This issue of Motley is dedicated to Maggie Pearl who ruled with an iron fist and a tender heart. An exceptional teacher who truly loved both the written word and her students enough to drag them kicking and screaming to the dance floor to move together in grace.
June 2014 Dear Reader, As you read through this year's installment of Motley you may notice a common thread in much of the text. This post-apocalyptic, dystopian theme was not planned or suggested by our editorial staff. Likely it arose from the popularity of the many recent novels that have been on the best-seller list including The Hunger Games, Wool, and The Unwanteds. Yet the concept of a bleak future is not new; many science fiction stories, such as 1984 and A Brave New World, have seized on this backdrop. As we picture the worlds these authors describe, how often do our minds hang art on the walls? Think to the movies we have seen that show us a view of a possible future and recall the homes of those with the wealth and power: blank, clean, white plastic or stainless steel. No art save the occasional monochromatic sculpture. The work in Motley, that on the walls of FMS, and all the creative endeavors our children undertake, be it music, prose, poetry, or visual art, ensure that we will continue to live in a world that is full of color and light, not merely shades of gray; a world with varied cuisine and flavors, not daily mush; a world in which variety and originality are praised rather than blank uniformity. A world where censorship is laughable, and creativity, individuality, and freedom of thought are championed. This magazine is but one stone in the breakwater holding against the unpleasant wave that would carry us to such a bland, artless future. Read it, pass it on, encourage your artists and writers, your actors and poets. Add another stone.
Simon Adams FMS Art
April Rain Leaving floods on the street Making cars and fields All very wet But that doesn't matter because April rain Is like no other It leaves in aroma of fresh flower lingering Telling us spring is here Those rose and daisies All parched, Thirsty, Craving The ever lasting Always forever April Rain -Annalise Rodrigue
Abi Lebel
Alone Alone In this world, I am alone If I left it would not be noticed But the hatred, coldness, and black That I feel, will stay with me FOREVER Never letting it go. It is a scar That hatred, coldness, and black A scar that will NEVER go away And YOU'RE the one that put it there Continuously you struck, cutting deeper Slowly killing my spirit And what spirit I had, is now gone Far away To another WORLD
-Sarah Blake Greenlaw
“The Woman with the Parasol” : A Replica of Life by Emily McConnell
The impressionist era birthed artists with light, carefree strokes; impressionist paintings brought scenes to life. The famed Claude Monet, an impressionist artist, is known for his lily paintings that decorate museums across Europe. However, my replica is of Claude Monet’s “The Woman with the Parasol.” Light filters through every aspect of “The Woman with the Parasol” from the backlit clouds to the shadowed grass. In fact, the oil painting is bubbling with vivacity. The ability to bring a scene to life is unparalleled. The principle that the paint brush shapes life upon a blank canvas excites my imagination. The wind flowing through the grass (the foreground) the woman’s dress and the young boy’s cheeks (the middle ground) and the cloudy sky (the background) effectively transport spectators to Monet’s sunny spring afternoon. The space between the painting’s different characters gives the depth that is present in reality. Claude Monet paints reality with a fanciful touch. In order to reproduce life on a twodimensional canvas, Monet employs the principle of movement, a technique used by artists to direct spectators through their work. In “The Woman with the Parasol,” a strong wind blows the grass and the woman’s dress. Monet’s
imitation of wind portrays the organic flow of nature. Moreover, the direction of the wind, begs the question of what lays in the grassy field beyond. Perhaps the woman has another child frolicking slightly to the left? “The Woman with the Parasol” only gives a snapshot of Monet’s entire vision for the scene. Within this snapshot, the dynamic yet casual application of color is both striking and comforting. Monet filters his fictional light through the clouds by incorporating soft, yellow hues and portrays the shadows with smudges of blue-grey. A lighter blue creates a halo around the boy, drawing the spectators eye. Likewise, the dark green of the woman’s parasol provides a gentle contrast to the sky. The use of color produces a breathtaking view of an artist’s ability to capture a moment in time. The artist who founded that movement of “capturing a moment in time” was Claude Monet. Monet lived from 1840 to 1926. His formal art education began in 1851, where he sold his charcoal caricatures for ten to twenty francs. However, Monet’s interest in charcoal diminished after being tutored by Eugène Boudin on oil paints. From then on, Monet used oil paints to depict his wife, sunrises, sunsets, and landscapes in a style that would later be labeled “impressionism,” painting to the effects of “light en plein air,” painting of the outdoors, with broken color and rapid brush strokes. The art of producing an “impression” of nature very quickly is difficult. It involves one to
let go of the details and be fully engrossed
Monet. At first glance the perception of depth
in the scene, which is especially difficult to do
portrayed in art is not always evident, however
when the scene is not surrounding you but
this project allowed for one to explore what
instead on a piece of paper. Although that piece
might have been the process of an artist. It was
of paper is not three-dimensional life, it is the
fun to step into the shoes of Claude Monet for a
legacy of an artist who sought to represent the
few weeks!
feeling of a certain moment in time in their own expression, the leader of that philosophy, Claude
"Claude Oscar Monet Biography." Claude Oscar Monet - The Complete Works. N.p., 2002-2014. Web. 10 May 2014.
The Doll Not able to laugh, Not able to smile, Here I stay, Forever frozen, Beautiful I am, But still I stay, My eyes don’t sparkle, My teeth don’t chew, My feet can’t dance with you. -Devin Noble
Emily McConnell
Ice
a river.
by
flowed to the lake nearby. The Seeker children
Elizabeth Seeker
It was a small stream that sluggishly
had discovered it during the spring thaw. At that time it was roaring along, fueled by melted ice, snow, and a winter of hibernation. It was only
Ice is a window to another world.
right that they name it after what they saw, a
Well, at least everyone
raging river. They liked alliteration. See, the
who believes in fairytales does. If you don’t, I’m
children named every landmark on their
about to show you how real a fairytale can be.
property. There was the tree graveyard, the
Everyone knows that.
Fairytales can contain even the normalest
peaceful pond, and good ole’ Geoffrey. Geoffrey
This particular fairy tale involves the
was a huge moss covered rock by the raging river.
people.
normalest of normal children, Jake, Emily, and Ivan Seeker.
Their last name wasn’t really
Seeker, but they were so curious that everyone called them “the Seeker children.” Jake was the oldest and Ivan the youngest. They lived in nice, modern,
house that had a teeny backyard.
Nothing exciting had ever happened in their 1.7 acres of woods either. Until December 13, the second to last Friday before break. Jake and Emily were lounging on the couch after middle school when Ivan came home from elementary school. Ivan unpacked his bag quickly, as if he had something to do. “Guys,” he said excitedly,”I think the raging river is frozen….” “Ice skating!!!” they all shouted in unison. They hurried to the mud room and grabbed their
Brooke Flaherty
snow pants, hats, mittens, boots, and coats. In three seconds, they were dressed and outside.
When they got to the river, they leaped
Now, you must know that the raging river wasn’t
onto the snow-covered ice. Using their hands,
actually raging, as a matter of fact, it wasn’t even
they cleared away the snow eagerly with high
hopes of slippery fun.
Emily screamed, Jake
gasped, and Ivan looked around puzzled.
grade, stared at them in shock then burst into tears and wailing,”I WANT TO GO HOME!!!!!”
When everyone had recovered, Ivan
The human being (possible psycho)
asked,”What is going on? Is it not frozen?” Jake
overheard this and said,”Don’t worry about that,
wordlessly pointed to the clear spot. Where
you’ll never be able to go back, might as well save
cloudy ice should have been, there was a face. A
your voice.” This didn’t help Ivan and he sobbed
normal human face. It stared at them with clear
even louder. Emily glared daggers at the human.
blue eyes. A groomed mass of curly hair sat on a
“What’s
your
name
anyway?”
she
perfectly shaped head. It motioned to them.
questioned angrily while cradling Ivan in her
Fascinated, all the children leaned in closer. A
arms.
cracking noise rang throughout the woods as the
“My name is Phillip. And yours?”
ice cracked and fell in. All children screamed as
“Emily, this is Jake and Ivan.”
all the ice broke and they fell through.
“I need to show you my home before it
On the other side, the human watched amused as the Seeker children tumbled down. “I thought no one would ever come!” it said. “My family and I have waited for
gets dark.” “What happens at dark?” quizzed Jake. “The Ice Queen and her daughter come out, you don’t want to get in their way.”
generations to see someone. Everyone refused to
“Why?”
get us once we had fallen through Doctor Felinies
“No one knows, they roam the night with
time machine. Except it went wrong. It didn’t
evil intentions. No more questions, follow.” The
take you back in time, it created endless time.
children followed after Phillip. He lead them to a
When we fell through we fell into a different
small shack covered in ivy with a straw roof. He
universe altogether. We don’t get older. Emily
lead them inside to a cozy, single roomed house.
excused them for a moment and whispered,”Did
In one corner, there was a tiny kitchen consisting
we just fall through our river into an alternate
of a fire with a spit over it, and a tin bucket that
universe and meet a possible psycho who tells us
served as a sink and a garden hose leading
of a crazed scientist that created the possibly
outside by way of the back wall. In another
different world that we are in right now and the
corner there were two beds against the wall. In
psycho tells us he has been here for a thousand
the closest junction there sat two squishy arm
years?”
chairs by a small brick fireplace. In one of the Ivan
nodded,”Pretty
much.”
The
arm chairs sat a hawk-like figure hunched over.
children all stared at each other, the reality of
The hair of the hawk was messed up. Upon
Emily’s description sinking in. Ivan, only in third
hearing their entrance, the figure turned. Emily
Winnie Wu
Olivia Spelman
Josh Allen
Unknown
gasped at the haggard face that met their gaze. “My father,” said Phillip.
The figure
stared at them silently.
that the Queen seals them up on her nightly wanderings. Since it is almost night it would be dangerous to go now, but you might be able to
“So, when do we go home?” said Ivan,
leave.”
now fully recovered and quickly changing the
“Will you be able to come?”
subject.
“No, a curse is put on you after you have
“I told you already, never ever EVER! GET THAT INTO YOUR THICK SKULLS!” Phillip stormed off to his bed.
spent the night. I can never leave.” “Oh.” An awkward silence filled the room. “We’ll come back and visit you,” Emily
“Phillip?” Emily touched his shoulder, “we didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” “I know you didn’t. It’s just, I want to go
promised. Phillip shrugged and stood up. They walked over to where Ivan and Jake were standing and said their goodbyes.
home. Hearing other people having trouble
Trudging out, the children headed down the well
accepting it like I did makes me want to go
gardened path to the hole. Jake lifted Ivan
back.” Emily nodded and stroked his back while
through the hole. He gave Emily a boost up and
he cried gentle tears of sorrow. “There is one way
started to pull himself up when suddenly he was
you can get out though.
yanked back down. Ivan screamed and Emily
The hole you fell
through might still be there. There are rumors
shouted, “JAKE!!!!!!!” The window was sealed.
Scorpion Teapot by Nic Ryer
Charlie Henning
Kaya Linen
Jordan McDermott
Brian Chamard
Untitled Song By Haley Stark and Catherine Morrisette
Smile fading
Dedicated To Grace Legere
Voice disintegrating
In Loving Memory Of Uncle Roger
Laugh relieving Your life has left me grieving
Your eyes, eyes are so blue,
Here alone
As blue as the sea in the sky,
All alone
Your words, words are so true,
On my own
As true as the wind passing by, I take, back, the memories
You took, flight, carry me away from here
I wish, I could, understand
Grab, me, let your wings sway us near
Why, you're, not right beside me
Leave, me, all alone heartbroken
Why, your, not right here to see I just miss
It seems to be one of those Old time laughter
You took, flight, carry me away from here
It seems to be one of those
Grab, me, let your wings sway us near
words sought after
Leave, me, all alone heartbroken
It seems to be one of those Moments I just miss
Your heart, pure Your love my only cure
Alone, with you
Your voice, strong
Is all I ask
Oh, how my soul can long
Alone, so blue
Your hands, near
still holding up your mask
You comforted every fear
alone, it’s true
I just miss
Alone, with who?
Ella Coffin
Ben Adey
Charlie Goodell
A Man Deep In Sorrow by Charlotte Giordano
I recreated this painting by replacing the person with a cat. I felt like this was an appropriate fit because it wouldn’t look natural to use an animal without legs, and between a cat and a dog, I thought that a cat fit better with the
The piece I chose to modify was made by
feeling of the painting, which is sadness. I chose
an artist named Thamsanga Mnyele. The title of
to use charcoal and a white colored pencil just as
the piece is, ‘There goes a man deep in sorrow
Mnyele did, but I used an eraser to define the
like an underground river.’ This art piece was
lines and shades a little more. I feel like this was
made with a medium of coal and a white colored
the best choice because it looks the most similar
pencil. Thamsanga Mnyele’s paintings go more
to the original drawing itself, and I feel that the
with a style of expressionism. Expressionism is a
charcoal and white colored pencil contrast
style of art in which the artist paints a picture
couldn’t be captured with oil pastels, or paint.
that expresses how they feel about a certain thing.
I think that the most important element
Other artists that painted in the style of
of art in this painting was value because the
expressionism are Marc Chagall, Wassily
darkness was what mostly defined the mood of
Kandinsky, and Ludwig Kirchner. The thing that
the painting. The dark value makes it easier to
made me want to use this art piece was how
understand the sad emotion inside the painting
different it was from all the other pieces of art.
that could not be captured with a lighter value.
All of the other paintings and art pieces that I
The most important principle of design is
looked at were portraits, or war scenes, or
balance. The balance in this painting perfectly
landscapes. This painting just stood out to me. I
brings out the meaning of the painting. If there
knew that I wanted to choose a piece that would
was less white, or more white then there is, then
be sort of a challenge for me, and when I saw the
the painting would be harder to understand, and
different colors, and faded lines, and different
look a little odd at the same time. Right now, if
lines and shades, I knew that it would be really
you look at the painting you can feel the sadness
fun to try and recreate it. It turned out to be a big
or maybe the hardships of the artist who painted
challenge to add in the white colored pencil and
it, but if there were to be more white in the
it makes me admire him and wonder how he did
painting then it could come across as a different
it so well as I had to try multiple times just for it
message.
to look alright.
the strength and unity against cruel attacks and cruel injustice. He was born in Alexandra, Johannesburg. His mother was a domestic worker, and his father was a minister at a church. He started to draw at a boarding school that he was sent to when he was eight. On June 14, 1985, he was killed by South African commandos. In 1990 the Thami Mnyele foundation was created, for African artists to enhance their skills and become acquainted with European culture. His mediums varied with the type of art he was creating but most of his paintings were made with charcoal and a white colored pencil. In this project, I enjoyed learning more about Thami Mnyele and trying to mimic his style of painting. It made me realize how hard he must have worked to just create one painting as all of his paintings are quality and look a lot better than mine. I learned that I am pretty good at drawing with all mediums. If I could change Charlotte Giordano
anything, I would probably make the lines under the cat a lot less bold because they stand out a lot
Thamsanga Mnyele was born December
from the other parts of the piece. I think the
10, 1948. He was a South-African artist
connection between me and Thami Mnyele is
associated anti-apartheid politics of the African
that we can both look at a normal picture and
National Congress and the Black Consciousness
think of different ways that we can twist a
Movement. His artist career took off in the
common idea and express it to other people
1970’s when he started painting pictures of
uniquely.
emotional opression. As his painting style changed, he started drawing pictures to represent
Online, South African History. "Thamsanqa "Thami" Mnyele." Sahistory.org. South African History Online, n.d. Web.
Sarah Noyes
P.U.R.U By Liam Myers, Jacob Seeker and Jake Mitchell
source of light was torches lining the walls. A blank faced soldier who had led the way down whipped around to face everyone. He brought out a weapon called a Stunner Spear. A Stunner
Outside of the Dome lurked the Punishers.
Spear was a long stick with a metal tip that
According to the Elders, the carbon dioxide level
contained a large amount of electric voltage.
was so high, it mutated the remaining life outside
This was commonly used to fend off Punishers if
of the Dome - including sea life. The Punishers
necessary. The unfortunate end of the bargain
were mutated sharks with sharp teeth and a
was that, besides the walls of the sub, this single
constant thirst for human flesh. Several metal
Stunner Spear was the only source of protection.
spikes protruded from the beasts on either side,
The Stunner Spear was given to the eldest
making Jasper question whether the monsters
member of the chosen citizens, a man named
were really naturally created.
Renner. Jasper could not help but notice a
The time was quickly approaching for the Chosen to board the sub. Jasper tried his best to stop a cold sweat from beading on his forehead. He attempted to hide his nervousness; there was no mistaking the butterflies in his stomach. For all he knew, today was the day he voluntarily drove himself into a watery grave. Jasper descended the stairs leading to the underground tunnels. Behind and in front of him were other chosen citizens. Some of them were young and fighting back tears. Some were older than Jasper, standing defiantly despite the feeling of fear building up inside them. No matter what age, nobody could hide the huge gulps that they were all taking. Based on the history of the previously launched subs, they might as well had painted “free food” in red letters on the side of the sub. It would end up the same regardless. They arrived at the dock, where the only
strange object wrapped around the Stunner Spear, held together by tape. The soldier climbed up, lifting the hatch to the sub. Following the sound of the hatch creaking open came another chorus of loud gulps. Jasper was also in on this chorus. Surely he could not be the only one nervous. He tried to push the feeling down. He had almost been wanting to be chosen ever since his mother had been taken. He had been forced to live on his own and take over his mom’s job in order to provide for himself. For this, he resented the Elders. He felt the need to do something to exact revenge on them. But at this point, who in the Dome didn’t feel the need to act? Renner was the first to climb up and board the sub through the hatch. Jasper assumed the Renner had a lot on his shoulders at the time. He was the oldest, and most likely the strongest. If he were to show fear, it would do nothing but
discourage the younger, more timid people.
slightly as the sub straightened out. Then it began to make its way down the tunnel. As soon as the sub exited the Dome, the manual controls would kick in, and Renner would begin to steer the sub himself. There was plenty of room for the ten or eleven people in the sub. So, why did Jasper feel as though the walls were closing in? The sub was submerged in absolute darkness, the only source of light coming from the occasional flicker of an electric shock from the Stunner Spear gripped by Renner. Eventually, the sub emptied out into open waters. The doors to the tunnel slid shut behind them, and as Jasper looked back, all he could see was the sub’s reflection in the Dome’s tinted glass. It was silent. All that could be heard were people’s teeth chattering, both from fear and the decreasing temperature. The water was an incredibly dark shade of blue. It was dark, yet it was clear. Renner
Mask by Jake Marks Soon Jasper was next to board. He gripped the bars and climbed upward, trying to conceal the growing unsettledness brewing in his stomach. The sub was a one-way ticket to Shark Chow City. And Jasper was on his way there. As soon as everyone had boarded, the automatic controls kicked in. The sub started to lower its way into the dark cold abyss. The lights were beginning to fade, and Jasper stumbled
steered the sub forwards navigating his way through the practically empty trenches of the deep. He had placed the Stunner Spear on a separate part of the control panel. This drew Jasper’s attention back to the mysterious object. Was it some sort of parchment? As his curiosity grew, he slowly approached the flickering spear, one hand extending to unwrap the parchment. He quickly ripped the tape off holding it together, then unrolled it from its current position. Renner snatched the spear away from him and pushed
him aside, then returned his attention to steering the sub. Jasper didn’t care. He’d already found what he was looking for. The object was a thick piece of paper - a note from the Elders, perhaps? Squinting to see in the limited light, Jasper read the message written:
told you that the purpose of the Choosing is to send you off and find habitable land. But we are assuming that you departed from the Dome feeling a high level of bitterness towards our ways. You see, if you were to find land, it is
To The Chosen-
possible you could stage a rebellion on us - and
We apologize in advance. While this may
we cannot have that happen. Again, we
come as a surprise to you, we must tell you the
apologize, but you must understand, we do this
truth, as you will all meet your grisly demise in
in order to maintain order. It is merely a
merely a matter of time. The Punishers are
matter of population control. We must keep our
really robots controlled by our soldiers. They
only resources from growing scarce. We wish you
are not mutants. They are simply used to
luck, but the Punishers will soon be arriving to
dispose of the Chosen faster. You see, we have
dispose of you.
-The Elders
Cuttlefish by Jacob Lorenzo
Glass Window
that is perceived in the artwork, he uses different
by
colors and convoluted brush strokes by deciding
Cali Wiberg One of Winslow Homer’s most famous
how much of the brush to apply to the art creating thicker and thinner lines of the color.
water colors is “Glass Window”. Glass Window is
The texture in my piece is jagged and sharp on
a piece of art that was painted in 1885 of a rocky
the rocks; however, not in a cold, standoffish way,
ocean landscape peering to the water. Through a
but in a way that you would walk on. As for the
large gap in the layering of rocks, you can see the
water, he still uses a fierce, yet soft, texture that
water and a petite boat in the distance. The day
does not push you away but draws you in. For the
is cloudy with the blue sky peeking through the
sky, he softens the texture up a bit and creates the
clouds, however, happiness is within the painting
clouds as if they were something you would want
despite the large amount of clouds in the
to sit on or take a nap on because they looks so
background. I chose his piece because I felt it fit
soft and gentle. By using texture in his piece,
‘Falmouth’ because we are located along the
Winslow Homer catches the human eye in more
water’s edge and my house is directly next to the
places than one and every time you look at his
ocean on the Foreside. The ocean has always
art, you see something more and more detail
intrigued me because of the beautiful views, the
within the texture or sometimes a new texture
vibrant colors, and the ‘homey’ feeling that is
completely together. By using texture, he enables
received when walking along the waters’ edge.
many different interpretations of his art which, I
The way the large rock is seemingly balance on
think, is why his artwork is so popular.
other rocks leaving a framed space to look out to
Another thing Winslow Homer is good at is his
the water through represents space because it is
contrasts. As I said earlier, he uses different brush
chopping the clear view of the water up into a
strokes to do different things allowing a variation
even more complex and intricate view and
of ‘eye poppers’. He has contrasts in textures,
leaving space between the blue sky and the blue
colors, shapes, and lines and he pulls all of these
ocean and space between the two rocks being
differences together into one big masterpiece.
almost pried apart by this long rock in between
Almost like in real life. A person's’ uniqueness
them.
and differences is what makes them beautiful and
One thing Winslow Homer does really well is the
he does the same by using contrast in his work. I
way he provides texture to his pieces. even by a
took notice to the water in the gap between the
quick glimpse and just going through his pieces
rocks. I noticed that as your eyes followed the
and deciding which to do, I could see the texture
water to the skyline, the coloring of the blue got
in his water color pieces. To create this texture
lighter. and as you got nearer to the shore, the
coloring got darker and darker until it was a
between. Now when I look at the painting, I see
navy blue. He also differed in the texture (as
the sun peaking through the clouds and trying to
mentioned earlier) of the rocks to the texture of
find its place in the painting. I see the calmness of
the clouds and the water in between. Another
the water as if untouched. I see the gentleness of
example of contrast in this piece is the way of
the rocks and the sun radiating off the rocks.
interpretation. The first time I looked at this
There is never ending amount of details in this
painting, I thought that it was not a stormy day
piece.
but not a perfect day either; somewhere in
Moonlight (after Munch) by Ben Wuesthoff
Hudson and Pandora by Rachel Morse and Catherine Carpenter
Hudson I wake up, a thin layer of sweat covering my body. Today is the day, where my fate would be changed for better or for worse. I have a feeling that it is going to be for the worse. With a rebellious little brother and no father, I know my family wouldn’t be picked to enter Eden 10249. It is the first synthetic dome in Finland, but only has a certain human capacity. Only 1,000 people are allowed in, leaving 2,999,000 people to fend for their lives outside. By tomorrow, I will be one of those people. Pandora I wake up, ready for the day. I have my finest quality belongings packed, and am ready to move into our new suite. Being the mayor’s daughter definitely has its perks. We have one of the first rooms built in Eden 10249. This means I could continue my life of luxury, without a care in the world. But sometimes I wondered. If only 1,000 people could live in the Eden 10249, where will everyone else live? Why are only certain people allowed into the dome? I’ve tried asking father but he’s just run me off with excuses. No true answers. That’s odd too, because he usually gives me a whole sophisticated answer to any of my questions. But no matter. I have to prepare for a life in the new world.
Hudson I walk into the overwhelmingly hot town square with my family in tow, ready to hear from the officials if we can stay in the Eden 10249. My baby sister, Lola, silently cries in my mother’s arms. It’s almost as if she knows the world is ending, and we will end with it. The smell of burnt trees and dry grass fills my nose. We ruined the Earth once, and it seemed like the poisoned environment is finally getting its revenge. One chance, and everything’s over. Kind of like my life now. I have one chance to live after all of those rich jerks move into their fancy homes. If I make the wrong move, I’ll be dead. The crowded square just makes me want to run away and hide. Away from capture. Away from death.
Pandora I stand on the stage in the town square. The air is sweltering, but we have air conditioners built
Santos Gramlich
Maggie Lamarre
Sophie Marcotte
Ryan Britton
into the stage floor. My father is next to me, in a new fancy suit. My hair is curled in ringlets, and I’m wearing my new salmon colored silk dress. “We must always look presentable,” my father always tells me, “We have a prestigious family, and we have to keep our reputation in check.” I always feel bad, because he says it rather loudly in public places where all the less wealthy can hear. It’s almost as if he wants everyone to know he is important. I doubt that, my father is one of the nicest men alive. “Welcome to the first official Fogneese choosing ceremony! Lets get right into it,” His voice booms next to me. “First off, we have the Johnson’s. Come on up!” The Johnson’s are our close family friends. John Johnson (I know, right), works as a famous lawyer who is very successful, and like us, wealthy.They are going to make it into the dome for sure. “Congratulations, Johnson’s! You’ve been accepted into the Eden 10249.” And on it goes, with families either radiating with pride or hiding in shame. I am truly captivated by one particular family. A dirty, rough around the edges group who I know won’t make it. And like the others, I feel something like pity. It is starting to seem cruel to just make people stay outside and fend for themselves without any assistance. Except this time, I feel more than pity towards this group. There is a boy about my age that looks ashamed while his little sister clings on to him fiercely with wide eyes. There is a little boy too, that squirms on his mother’s shoulders. The mother looks exhausted with dark bags under her eyes and wisps of hair falling all around her face. At one time she could be beautiful, I think, but years of work and sweat has changed her. There is no father with them. I can only assume that either he passed away or abandoned them. I long to pick up the little girl and hug her with all my might, giving her whatever she wants. I want to see that mother’s face light up and smile again and relax. But I can’t make those decisions. As they walk up to the stage, I know they aren’t going to make it. All of a sudden I hear the little girl cry out, and immediately is hushed. My heart beats rapidly. I have sweaty palms. Guilt hangs over me like a big, dark cloud, pressing me down. Why don’t they get a chance? This is so unfair, my mind screams. And then I do the unthinkable. I run. I run off the stage, down the streets, and then run, and run, and run. When I am completely out of breath, I stop and sit down on an old, dry log. I am in the forest, or at least what is left of it. Sun baked dirt covers the ground with very little vegetation to accompany it. No one has come after me. No one even tried. So I just sit there and I cry.
Hudson I walk up onto the stage, Lola squirming in my arms. I guess it’s better to just get it over with. But as I reach the stage, a girl, (I assume the mayor’s daughter), leaps off the stage and runs. Fast. But
The Metaphysical Muse (after Carra) by Maya Michaud
the oddest thing is, nobody seems to care or even acknowledge what has happened. But her running away and the sadness I saw on her face just before she left makes me almost distracted enough to forget the terrible message that awaits me. “I am deeply sorry Mrs. Bentley and family. With great sorrow I must say, you will not move on to the Eden 10249.” And then the mayor smiles again and moves on to the next family, barely giving us time to move off the stage and to the dirty streets. Liar. He isn’t telling us this news with great sorrow. He’s just relieved that we won’t be able to be a part of his perfect life in the Eden 10249. Pandora I still sit on the log, all out of tears. Why did I ever think that this plan with the Eden 10249 was a safe plan? I feel awful. My father is forcing people to live in a certain place, and they can’t make a choice. All of the people that really need to stay in the safety of the dome have been cast out to fend for themselves and I think, eventually die. My mind screams injustice as I plan my next move. Maybe I should move into the dome first and get organized. I have the advantage of money and power: why don’t I use it like everyone else? I grudgingly stand up, my dress torn and dirty. There are still dried tears on my eyes, but I move forward. On instinct, I end up at my house. It is quite large, and has white marble walls. There are rare artifacts, and a huge diamond chandelier. It is quite nice, I’ll admit. It never feels like a true home, though. Hudson I walk into my small, broken down house with my family in tow. All I feel is shame and weakness. Why can’t I be stronger and provide for my family? I’m a failure. And now everyone has to pay for it. My mother touches my shoulder and I turn to look at her. When I do, she gives me a weak but encouraging smile, then whispers the words, “We’ll make it, some way or another.” I want to scream and say that we won’t make it, won’t survive, and won’t be happy ever again. But I can’t. I have to man up and be strong for my family. Pandora I walk briskly down the shiny, squeaky halls, my father in the lead. We are in the dome, about to get to our room. The dome is very large, with the first floor being the town type of scene, except much more fancy. Movie theaters flash their lights brightly, telling you what’s next on the big screen. Little cafe’s and restaurants with all sorts of cultural foods crowd the center of the down stairs, where there is a large town square. Although you can just call for food to be brought to your door, it’s nice to able to get out with friends for a dinner at a restaurant. But one thing still nags at my mind. If only 1,000
Fox by Marley Thomas
Orca by Fred Schreiber
Cow by Summer Spiegel Walrus by Catherine Carpenter
people can live here and the rest have to stay outside in the wilderness and fend for themselves, when will the dome run out of food for 1,000 people. And will it always be just 1,000 people here? There are always new babies, and people that die of old age. What happens if there are extra people? I guess I’ll ask my dad. Hudson Since my family must stay out in the wilderness, we are allowed to keep our homes. Or at least that’s what they said in front of everyone when there was still the group of people that moved into the dome. But last night, when everyone was settled in and ready for years of pain to come, a troop of government officers marched in, complete with trucks and moving equipment. Then they did the unthinkable. They started taking down our homes, took away our valuable possessions, and ransacked the place. I had already been awake, trying to figure out the best way to collect food for my family the next day, when one of the officers entered the house. I stopped him and, being surprised as I was, demanded to know what was happening. All he did was grunt a “for the dome,” and “get lost, kid.” And, seeing that we didn’t have any valuable possessions around, left. When I thought they had finally gone, I woke my mother to tell her what had happened. She told me that she was not surprised and that it was a good thing that we had hidden our valuables. But I didn’t do anything. I didn’t stand up for the only home we have. Instead, I’ve run away with my family, keeping them hidden behind a waterfall in a cave. It will come any day now, a wave of greed and struggle for survival. I can feel the tension building up. There will be a war. Not among the officers and us, but between everyone who didn’t make it to the dome. Between my family, and all other families. I’ve heard about what these are called. It’s an anarchy. And this is what the officers want. If only my father was still alive to help me.
Pandora I finally have made myself at home in the Eden 10249. We have a spacious apartment on the third floor, all to ourselves. I lie on my bed, thinking about what my father had said when I asked him my questions. Truthfully, he hadn’t said much at all. He completely avoided most of my questions and the ones that he did answer were vague and didn’t help me figure out what is wrong. So now I have to make a decision. Will I stay here and accept the government’s plan, or go check out the outside of the dome for myself ? I guess I’ll just have to sneak out and figure things out for myself.
Beach Scene by Danielle Casavant
Sailboats (after Van Gogh) by Maeve Oliver
Hudson The expected wars have started. I’ve told the rest of my family to stay hidden while I go out and try to find food and other stuff that is useful. Since nobody out here has good weapons, we’ve all had to use our resources, which aren’t very many. We do things like throw rocks and use wooden clubs. I have a wooden club that isn’t very effective, but if I swing it hard enough, it can knock someone out for about ten minutes which is long enough to grab what I want and go. But today, I’m sneaking over to get our hidden family valuables which consists of a fine china tea cup and saucer, a handkerchief, some of my father’s work tools, and his pistol. The pistol has only five bullets. I hope I never have to use it on someone, but since it’s getting so dangerous to live here, it’s better to have as much protection as I can get. It’s dark outside as I sneak around to the hiding spot of my family valuables. But, just as I’m about to leap over to the next rock that hides the valuables, a figure in black clothing darts from a tree to the rock right next to me, standing right next to where the valuables are buried. I’m afraid he/she knows what is beneath the rock, but then the person leaps over to my rock and bumps into me. Before it can dart away or do anything dangerous, I grab the figure by the arms and cover its mouth.
Pandora At eleven o’clock, I decided it was safe to sneak out to see the outside of the dome. I grabbed an old shirt and jeans, both black, and put them on. I’m only supposed to wear silk dresses, but my parents knew how much I liked to lounge around in the only comfortable room of the house, the finished basement, so they got me these clothes and a few others. I snuck outside, only almost getting caught once by a slightly drunk young couple walking past. Now I stand just outside the door of the dome, the cold air dotting my arms with goosebumps. I decide to go into the dead forest area, where I stopped after my long run off the stage. I sneak behind rocks and trees, and leap to the last one where I plan to hide, but, I am all of a sudden grabbed from behind, a hand clamping over my mouth. I kick and scream although the screams are stifled. My heart races. What will happen to me? Am I being kidnapped? I never should have left. While I think about this, I am dragged over to a tree where I am tied on to it by some rope. It’s just me and this dangerous stranger. It would be very hard for anyone to find us in the middle of the dead forest, hidden behind dead trees, rocks and boulders. A voice whispers something in my ear, sending a chill down my spine.
The Determined Fly its big eyes darting, its tiny wings vibrating only seeing what’s beyond, the window, again and again it bangs against the glass, like a toddler, who doesn’t take no, for an answer.
-Devon Noble
Illustrations by David Steindl
Faultless
whiteness of our house makes the sun shine
by Maggie Lamarre, Audrey Pratico, Summer
perfectly off of it, the neighbors have the same
Spiegel, Maddy Joyce
houses, some being with, blue, pink and yellow roofs. This is how we have always lived, perfectly.
I sit up in bed, gasping and sweating. My
I clean myself up and get ready to catch
sleep monitor beeps loudly. I roll over in bed and
the speedway. I look for my brother, Aris, but I
push a button on its shiny metal surface, stopping
cannot find him in the crowd of blonde heads. I
the sound mid-beep. I slide out of bed and get
sigh and turn towards the entrance of the train
dressed in my gray clothes-the same ones that I
and climb in. School passed quickly, the lessons about
wear every day. They’re standard, everyone in my sector wears them, but of course that doesn’t
the history of Faultless and the war were just a
make them any prettier.
blur in my memory. They always tell us about the
When I reach the main living space downstairs, I order my breakfast from the screen on the wall, shovel it down and sign out of the house-scanning my eye on the retina scan by the
war that occurred but never what it was about or why. *
*
*
The next morning I awoke screaming
exit. A robotic voice says “Goodbye Luna” as I
again. This time I remembered my dream. The
slip out the door.
face of a women I had never met. A pair of
The sun was just peeking over the horizon
white gloved hands clamping around my waist
as I walk down my empty street. Everyone in my
and pulling me from her arms. A bloodcurdling
sector is still asleep in their beds-right where they
scream rips from her lips and then everything
should be at this hour. I’m sure that I will be
goes black. I wake up in a cold sweat. Again.
disciplined for leaving the house so early when
The dreams continue, always the same
the sign out report comes back tonight. My heart
thing. But they begin to lengthen out, and give
is still racing, it seems to be for no reason-but it
me glimpses of something else.
must have been from my dream. I adjust the dial on my wrist for it to let calming serum into my
*
*
*
In my recreation hour, I headed to the
bloodstream. Within seconds, the serum kicks in
Infolab, a place to access information, much like
and I take a shuddering breath. I kick up my
a digital library. I typed in “beginnings of
heels and run, breathing steady now. I take a lap
Faultless and the war” and waited. A warning
of our block, and quickly scan my eye as I enter
popped up on the screen saying that the
my flat. My family is just beginning to stir as the lights come on in our small home. The shiny
Girl by Sophie Magadieu
Abigail Adams by Teagan McMahon
information was confidential. I stepped back
printed in beautifully solid script- nothing like the
and looked at the screen. This can’t be right.
stick like letters that you would see on a screen. I
Why would the government want to hide the
flipped through the pages until I found one that
history of our nation from us? They must be
was the directory for page numbers. I opened
hiding it for a reason. There is only one place I know of that I
the book up to the appropriate page and began to read.
could find my answers. This is the artifact storage facility-where my father works. The next morning was a day off from my upper school. I asked my father to come visit and learn about what he did in his job. Of course, he was always pleased to have his children interested in a topic, especially one that had to do with a certain occupation. We caught the speedway together, and waited for the car to stop at the big storehouse. Inside, the workers would sort, clean, repair and box the artifacts-some going to museums, and some being stored for later use or studies. As soon as we entered the building, I told my father that I wanted to go look at the printed books-a small section of the facility with few workers. I weaved my way through the crowds of white clad workers, and slipped behind a row of shelves. The books were beautifully made, so old
Flower Seller by Gwen Armitage “On the fourth day of the seventh month of the year
and lovely, that it would be easy to get lost in the
2098, the central government of our nation was split into
dusty array of colors. I put no a pair of safety
two parts, one in favour of a perfect world, where there are
gloves that sat in a box for the workers to use and
no people who were ugly, thought differently to the masses,
began to search the titles of the books for one
or followed different religions. This would result in the
about the war. At last I found a big, leather
perfect world because then everyone would look think and
bound volume titled “The History of Our
feel the same, so there would be no conflict. The others
Nation” I pulled it gently off the shelf, blew the
favoured diversity, but that could only result in an
dust off it’s cover and opened it. The words were
imperfect world because there would still be conflict, ugly
Brady Pierson
Andrew Allen
Michaela Amato
and difference in our world. This disagreement resulted in
was just...not. A skimpy chain link fence
a war, the greatest the world has ever known. The result
surrounded our city. That was all. I knelt down
was the death of thousands of people, and the side in
next to the fence, listening to hear if it was
favour of a perfect world won. The city of Faultless was
electric. There was no sound, so I touched it
built, and populated by people with the most perfect of
tentatively with my index finger. I pulled at the
looks, and the rest were banished to the wreckage of the
links, and to my surprise, I small hole opened up
world, where they lived in the ashes of the Broken City.”
at the base of the fence. I looked behind me, then scuttled quickly underneath.
I stopped reading there, and took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe what I had heard. A broken city? With people in it? We had always been taught that Faultless was the paradise of the world, the only place that had survived the war. Suddenly realization washed over me, and I couldn’t believe it. “Our whole world is a lie?” I whispered. It had never bothered me that everything looked the same, everyone talked the same way, walked the same way and were always perfectly on time for everything. It was like we were programmed to do this. Programmed… The next morning I awoke with the dream early again. It was not quite light out yet, but I slipped out my door and headed to catch the 5:30 speedway to the edge of the city. I knew that I shouldn’t be going this far from home but I wanted to go look at the city wall, a place that I had never been. The story was that it was set up to protect us from the radiation coming in from the war, but I now knew that it was really set up to to keep us from going out. When I got to the city wall, I gasped. Not because it was so grand and tall, but because it
All I saw was grey. Grey trees, burnt by the smog that filled the air, and grey rubble. Everywhere. I walked for hours, feeling the cool of the wind whipping at my hair. I knew they would come looking for me. I also knew that they wouldn’t look out here. There was one thing I knew for certain: that there was a city out here, and I just needed the time to find it. By the time the sun was high in the sky, I could see where I was. I looked around, and, in the distance, I saw the crumbling towers of the city I knew must be Broken. *
*
*
I was very nervous by the time I reached
face smudged with mud. She cowered away from
the first crumbling tower. It was grey, just like
me, and let out a scream, which brought many
everything else around it, and none of the other
dirty people scurrying out into the clearing.
buildings looked the same. I peered into the
They looked at me, with eyes that could see right
entrance of the building and saw a person. She
through me. I stepped back, shivering in spite of
was small and frail, dressed in dirty rags with a
the warm weather.
Sunset Ghosts by JessicaTroubh
Olivia Teufel, Kate Goss, Maddie Marks, Hope Cote
Our Biggest Enemy Guns are our biggest enemy of all They harm and destroy lives of everyone around them cold and emotionless and do not care what they kill or who they kill However Guns keep us safe They protect families and save lives They help create freedom These are the traits of the gun Made in America and born to fight The gun spends its final days in battle Fighting against the Confederate soldiers spitting bullet after bullet Killing person after person. The gun doesn't stop It doesn't feel Thrown down and beat up Jammed and overheated Stomped on and buried in the sand Left behind as the Union retreats The life of a gun
-Nate Rinehart
Spiders by Riley Reed
Panda by Reilly Tucker
District Zero
Annabell works as a microchip builder, ironic I know! MCB, as it was commonly called,
by
was one of the more exciting jobs a citizen could
Annie deCastro
have. Most work in a warehouse, and slaved away cleaning and fixing machines, or they worked
Annabelle felt different, and different was
hard and long in the fields, tending to the
not good. She didn’t understand it, she followed
machines that harvested and watered the crops.
her schedule and got her work done with never a
Despite different jobs everyone follows the
complaint. Yet instead of being satisfied, like
schedule that is programmed into their
most citizens, she wanted more. She was curious
transporters.
where most were scared, she obeyed when most
To keep in contact with friends and keep
agreed, she loved and felt emotions. She even
track of current events, everyone gets blinder
remembered past events! Yet there was
glasses. These glasses are locked on to every
something missing, a black hole in the timeline of
citizens head. The glasses have a mind control
her life. She actually did have her memory wiped
screen with many helpful apps. To make sure a
by the government after they found her. Don’t get
citizen fallows their schedule, the government
me wrong, Annabelle was still happy with her life.
entrusted the help of officials. These officials
She had a job and was even eligible to have a
carry around smasher plasma ray guns to help
child. In order to have a child in district zero you
fulfill their duties. The SPRGs are loaded with
had to be of the best health condition.
infrared rays that torture the victim without killing them. If that doesn't work small metal spikes on the guns sides are used for beating. Most citizens fear these officials greatly and would never stand up to them, including Annabelle, but that was all about to change. Annabelle woke up on that normal day in a normal way. Her breakfast came just on time, 6:05, through the small shoot in her sleeping pod. Her transporter took her to the train platform at 6:10 sharp and everything went smoothly.
Fallout by Tyler Baker
Annabelle eyed the official on the train. He or she, there was no way of telling, had the traditional white jumpsuit on. There helmet was
also white with a tinted visor covering there face.
The knife had gone through a official who had
A gold badge printed with the government
fallen to the ground. Many young men dressed in
symbol (A Electric volt) was pinned to the
nothing but animal hide skirts and frightening
official’s uniform. Annabelle didn’t stare for long
spiked helmets rushed into the room. They
because she didn’t want to be caught looking at
ransacked the cafeteria and stuffed large bags
the official.
with food. Killing any officials in their way with
The transporter next to her contained a
small knifes. More officials flooded into the room.
small frail boy who lived in the pod next to her.
One shot rays at a boy. He burst into screams
His hair was messy and his clothes contained
and his body started to slowly melt (clearly the
several stains. Annabell rolled her eyes, she had
ray guns were extra powerful). The men started
learned that this boy had gotten in trouble with
to exit in a rush. Annabell felt her arm be tugged.
many officials. He apparently had some
Not knowing what else to do she followed the tug.
malfunctions with his mindchip. Annabell kept
She was thrown into one of the bags and carried
her own white jumpsuit crisp and clean with her
away. A hand reached into the bag and shot her
privilege of washing machine use. Clearly this
with a tranquilizing dart. Annabell blacked out.
boy did not have access to a washing machine or a comb. Annabell’s stop came and her transporter moved her off the train and into the mind chip factory. Annabell found her way to her station and began work. At twelve she moved into the cafeteria hall and received her meal. A young new employee sat in front of her. He looked a little confused and scared. “How is your first day going?” Annabelle asked in a caring tone. “It’s ok I guess. Everything here moves so
Funky by Trent Hollings
fast!” He said. Annabell nodded. “You will get used to
When she awoke she found herself on a bamboo mat. As her vision cleared a boy
it.” Right as she said that, a loud bang sounded from a nearby table. Annabelle looked over and saw a metal knife lodged into the table.
appeared. He wore a animal hide skirt with a spiked hat. The hat was gold with long metal spikes protruding from in like horns. Despite the
menacing hat his face was kind and handsome. He smiled when she opened her eyes.
“This is the girl I captured papa.”
“Welcome to our home!” He said in a cheerful tone.
“Well done Ka, maybe you can lead more attacks in the future.” The man said in a pleased
“Where am I?” Annabell replied in a drowsy voice.
tone. “Where should I take her.” Ka said.
“The jungle!” He said. She sat up and
“I had the troops set up a small tent near
looked around. She was in a pyramid shaped tent
the barn. You are to take her there and give her a
with one door. The tent was very interesting to
horse and clothing.” He replied.
her. It was made out of dried animal hides hung
“I already have clothing!” Annabelle said.
up by sticks tied together with a thin, strong
She still was a little confused on what was
looking vine.
happening.
“Come with me,” He said while tugging her arm. Annabelle fallowed. The boy led her through a flap in the pyramid shaped door. Outside of the tent there was twenty or so other tents. Young children were running around and
“You will need proper clothing if you want to be a soldier.” The man said. Annabelle said nothing in reply, afraid of offending the man. “That was my father. He is the chief.”Ka
playing games. Adults were talking, making crafts
boasted as they walked to Annabelle’s hut.
such as baskets, and riding these huge creatures
Annabelle nodded not knowing what else to do.
Annabelle had never seen before. These people
All of this throwing her in a sack and bringing
called them horses. The boy led her to a large
her to the jungle thing was going by really fast.
man with a red spike on his helmet.
While they walked to her tent, Annabelle saw children playing with each other. At her home children were kept in a incubator until they are able to work. Once a mother gives birth, she has fifteen minutes with her child. This limits the emotional bond between the mother and child. After that the child is sent off to the incubator to be kept in a gell filled pod until they are fifteen years old. The mother hardly ever sees their child ever again. Most kids will end up in different sleeping pod warehouses from their parents.
Fort Kent by Willem Labbe
Annabelle had never seen children this young
before. Near a tent a mother was clutching a
the knife in hand he reached to the back of her
newborn in her arms. The child was sleeping
head and cut a slit in the binding on her blinding
soundly raped with bundles of blankets.
glasses. The glasses fell off.
Annabelle couldn't help staring at the child. It’s
“Much better!” Ka said with a grin.
chubby face was poking out from the blankets.
Annabelle blinked and opened her eyes to light.
Tiny chubby fingers clutched the mother. Once
The glasses had been tinted blocking out most
they reached the end of the camp a waft of
sunlight. Annabelle had never seen that much
animal waste hit Annabelle’s nose.
light in her life.
“What’s wrong with your nose?” Ka said to Annabelle. Annabelle didn’t notice but she had scrunched her nose in response to the foul smell. Her cheeks turned red with embarrassment,
Ka led her to a barn where the smell seemed to be emanating from. Ka went into the barn and returned with a massive beast. “This is wind. He is a young spotted saddle horse. He is yours!”
although Ka didn’t seem to mind too much. At
“Mine!” Annabelle gasped
the end of the camp Annabelle found a small
“Yep all yours. My mother will show you
tent made from animal hides. A loose flap in the front was used as a door. Inside the tent a mat made from bamboo rods served as a bed and a fabric Annabelle had never seen before encased sheep wool. The pouch of wool was used as a pillow to rest the head on. A small robe with leather boots rest on the end of the bed. The boy told Annabelle to put on the clothes. He left the tent to give her some privacy. Annabelle took off her plain white clothes. She picked up the robe and found a graceful horse sewed into the fabric. The boots were slightly small but Annabelle didn’t mind. She had never seen such colors. Most of the items in district zero were white, grey, or black. Ka smiled when she appeared
No Signal by Megan Josephs
from the tent. He took from his belt a small knife
how to make a saddle and reins for him.”
and approached Annabelle. She took a step back
Annabelle approached the beast. To her surprise
in fear but the boy kept approaching her. With
the beast lifted his head to reveal his large kind
eyes. Annabelle patted the horse. His fur was smooth and fluffy.
entered her tent. “Come with me.” Annabelle had learned
“Do you want to ride him?” Ka asked.
it was best just to roll with what people told her
“Um I’m not sure how to ride a horse.”
here. Many people were gathered around the
“I can teach you!”, and with that Ka
campfire. Annabelle recognized several others the
hoisted Annabelle onto the horse. He led the
tribal people had captured from her work. The
horse forward with a series of clicking sounds he
chief came in his tribal hat. He stood up and
made with his mouth. The horse responded and
started telling a story.
galloped forward. Annabelle clung to it’s mane.
“Many years ago the world was different. People
Through the next couple of days
were free of government bounds. They had
Annabelle learned many skills from the people of
freedom and choice. That was until the
the village. She learned the make a saddle for
population became blinded by all of the
wind, reins, baskets, weapons, tribal
technology the government presented them.
helmets(which Annabelle later received as a gift),
iPhones were the main culprit. People became so
armor, and snares for catching food. She was
obsessed over these phones that they didn’t
getting more comfortable riding wind and Ka
realize the government was being taken over by
was training her military skills. One night Ka
robots! The people finally subsided to doing whatever the government wanted. This resulted in the world we live in today. The only hope we have is tribes like ours who think for their self and govern their self.”
Anchored by Janna Braley
Stuck by Jackson Larlee Diary Entry 57-23' 9-30-3016 It was dark and stormy today and I’m awaiting their arrival. It gets colder by the hour and my food reserves are running low. The feeling of winter is sinking into my soul. I only hope they will freeze. The other day one of them found me and created a large gash in my left shoulder while I was retrieving firewood. Their teeth are like knives piercing my skin. There are screeches each and every night making me shudder while asleep. The house in which I’m in is busted and barely standing. It sits on the top of the solitary hill in the center if the island. Luckily the creatures can’t climb up the steep incline heading to the top. The climate here is awful. It’s cold and barren with few traces of edible food. The food that can be found is an odorous brown fruit from the only three trees on the island. Unfortunately the creatures live in these trees so most of the time I’m forced to regurgitate what’s in my stomach. Their only target seemed to be me for I saw them attacking in twos which leads to the hypothesis that they’re monogamous. Today while I was procuring food of the ground a rustling could be heard from the trees. Then, all at once a pack of rabid squirrels of microscopic size came out of the trees! It was almost like an apocalypse with their faces all torn up with scars,almost like a specter. Running, I quickly bolted toward the cliff. I could feel them gnawing at my legs as I leapt towards the wall. Barely grabbing the scaly face, I ascended up toward the top hoping I’ve escaped. When I reached the top it seems they have followed me. Returning to the house I bared of the doors and windows so that they wouldn’t get in. I hope that I write in this tomorrow. Good luck, and goodnight.
Billy Myers
Delaney Wimert
Carson James
Delaney Wimert
Mother Earth Behold Mother Earth, for who she is. The natural entity who nurtures all. For upon the hills and under the opaque sky, we reap her virgin bounty. Though mourn for what was once her glory, the opus of her years. Razed was tree and hillside, tainted were her river tears. I see scars upon her visage, painted black by urban greed. Yet those who see her for what she truly stands, strive to paint a brighter understanding. Beneath my toes, lies soft the grass, and under that the soil. My earthen fingers grasp the trunk of an ancient apple tree. So old, so full of wisdom, sorrow, and memory. But in the eyes of our Mother Earth, her bearing appears so transient. I toil up the sturdy tree, my vision takes in all it can see. I push on up to the great blue sky, and thread a ladder of the stars. I gaze upon our beautiful world from high up in the heavens. A tranquil peace, yet a separate piece, contrasts my calm and hers. Descending the rungs, I make my way from mountain to the sea. Each place Mother Earth remains free of strife, a spiritual monastery. For what she gives us, we collect her ripening fruit. Though from human goals and the will of all, hill has been swept of farm by fear. Her food provides us all with life. Those who gather know her best. From her seasons to her weather, to hard times that put all to the test. Natural. Indulgent. A feast like no other. Those that are eaten as they were created, are the best taken from Earth Mother. A farmer I notice, turns to
look upon me. “What have we, when all that is local, cultured, and inspiring ceases to exist?” Steal a swift glance at the sun, who keeps our earth from cold. But even still, think of the moon, who is lonesome, for when she rises over the night, all are asleep and dreaming. My name comes upon my lips, and the Mother beckons me to her. Deep within the forest, lies a single, brooding tree. I trace my blood down to the roots, and whisper through the wind. Winding down the veins of Mother Earth, she sees me. Her kind face shrouded by soil-brown locks, her eyes shrouded by pain. “Why do they harm me, for what do they hope to gain?” My mind ponders her question, but no answer comes forthwith. For why would anyone, inflict injury upon their mother? “Go my child, my hero, my sage. Never forget what remains good without interference, whether it be food or soul alike, will always remain. Stay whole and never wavering, for who knows when tragedy will strike.” She bids me farewell, and tears leak from my eyes. I grow up from the ground. My hair, methodically flowing, is made of plants, even down to the roots. My eyes are kind yet clever, set from river stones. The lips upon my complexion, are soft and made of clay. In tune with the earth I can return, back to aid in the righting of wrongs. Wholesome and strong, nothing shall befall me. For I walk with Mother Earth’s blessing, and bear it so all can see. -Thomas Hiscock
Tree by Kaidi Aloupis
Storm Warning by Clare McGlinn
7 Years & 50 Days by Clara Tolley
Oaxaca Rabbit by Alden Sawyer
Strawberries
Reddest Of all hearts Plump Juicy parts Sweet Like a perfect Life Destroyed By a silver Knife Cherished With admiration A symbol Across the nation Peace is the longing Cry Carried by winds To the end of the Sky
-Holly Barney
What e'er men do, or say, or think, or dream, Our Motley paper seizes for it's theme. -byline from The Tatler (Eng. 18th c.) -from Juvenal (Roman Satirist 2nd c.AD)
Warhol's Horse by Noah Parks
Gopher by Jack O'Hanlon
2014 Motley Editorial Staff: Katie Han Sophie Herdrich Maggie Lamarre