the ivy fall 2010
the ivy magazine : color
princeton high school’s magazine of the arts fall 2010 issue editors: avital drucker, jessica klimoff, jonathan taratuta-titus faculty advisor: scott cameron staff: bao karen alexandra braverman
maddie davis victoria ehrbar tiffany fang nicola faas elizabeth gerberich gianna kim rachel klebanov cassie lehmann kelly peretzman kendall petro katie prucnal chloe shumaker kaia soufl asli uyanik melissa jo zambrana
thank you for your unwelcome eyes.
contents
poetry: 3 photography: 7 short stories: 21 artwork: 27 credits: 33
website: phs.prs.k12.nj.us/theivy facebook: facebook.com/theivyphs email: theivy.phs@gmail.com
cover image: jonathan taratuta-titus 1
artist of the month: alison chen
P O E T R Y
Look at the lights They're coming towards You now Don't go too fast Or opportunities Will pass You by Look at the lights They're blinding You now The mistakes that you've Made along the way They've become Glaringly obvious Look at the lights They're going past You now Your chance has Come and gone And ask yourself What next? Look for the lights They're going to guide You home now 4
-Chloe Shumaker
last words Why do I try when there’s too much to say To explain what I’ve done by the end of the day? You’re just a mem’ry in pixels and bits But someone I feel for and someone I miss. See, my heart is not still, so it bounces and flies all round my ribcage. I laugh while you cry. That purple night in a castle of mist I either went crazy or couldn’t resist So I’m sorry, I’m sorry, all the way from the East Say you’re okay and my soul will find peace. -anonymous
stars Small silver shooting stars Create glistening silver arcs Across the indigo, night sky. One lands on my tongue – It’s sweet, like ice cold peaches On a scorching summer day.
-Elizabeth Gerberich 5
What matters to Google: How to tie a tie How to get rid of stink bugs How to How to train your dragon How to lose weight fast How to dougie How to roast pumpkin seeds How to get rid of bed bugs What may or may not matter to you: How to give a hug How to remember your name How to say sorry How to help your sister on the potty How to make her feel better How to share an umbrella How to break a fall How to make a smile What matters to me: How to write a ******* poem
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-Allison Chen
p h o t o s
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short
stories
Behind her the Noise Escalated The waves came up like angry hounds, hungering for a bite of human flesh. The sea roared its fury as its hands crumpled in on itself and met the edges of its boundary. The waves retreated, leaving a blank imprint in the sand. The girl stood at the edge, between the grasping hunger of the unknown and the safety of the shore. She dug her toes into the sand. She reached her hands out and felt the wind forcefully run past her. She stubbornly stood there as the wind whipped her hair up like stalks of grass and threw sand at her face. She turned her back towards the wind and the sea. Behind her, the noise escalated. The waves pushed on harder and farther, grasping, reaching, longing to reach the small girl at the edge. She turned around and bitterly flung some sand with her foot at the sea. She made a face and ran along the edge, taunting it, daring it to come get her. With a howl, the waves pulled up faster than ever before, rushing to obliterate that disrespectful girl. The girl laughed and stepped back. The waves only reached her knees. The girl was victorious. The sea fell silent, only the cries of the seagulls could be heard as a warning in the air. The girl found a broken liquor bottle lying in the sand. She picked it up and flung it into the depths of the ocean, She smirked; the sea was weak. All was quiet. The girl turned her back towards the Sea. Behind her the noise escalated. The waves advanced determined and bloodthirsty. The girl turned, her face frozen with surprise. The waves retreated, leaving handprints in the sand. - Anonymous 22
A Sunday Night It is 6:33 o’clock on a Sunday night. I am sitting at the dining table, staring with disgust at my homework. There is simply no way it can be finished in time for Monday morning. I look outside at the omniscient haze of darkness that emits an evil spirit. The silence is disrupted only by the melancholy crows of a few birds. Light rain begins to fall. Suddenly, a flash of hot, blazing lightening slams through the sky. I flinch, knocking my paper and pencils to the floor. I go to the window and close the curtains. No one is home but me. All the doors are locked. Suddenly, the phone rings. I rapidly run to it and hope it’s my friend. Only, it’s a number I don’t know. I pick it up. “Hello Jackie, how are you doing at home?” Mom! “I’m all right, I’ve been doing homework. I have loads.” “Well, honey, good luck getting it done.” “Thanks,” I said. “Hey Jackie, I believe some one might be coming to our house today. Let him will you?” “Sure thing, Mom.” The line ends. I hang the phone up, and take my position back at the table. I look at my history homework with profound disapproval. The rain patters even harder. Something smells cold, dark and sinister. I hear the crack of thunder strike like the foul growl of a monstrous beast. I flinch again. I can’t concentrate on homework. I decide to watch television to forget my childish fears. I scamper towards the living room when suddenly, someone knocks at the door. I go to the door cautiously, who is it? I open the door. Who is this man? 23
He stands at the door erect, and I immediately notice that he is carrying a large brown bag. He has greasy brown hair, and he is wearing a long grey coat that is tainted by dark stains. He has big, muddy boots that are spattered with dirt and other things. My nose stiffens to the smell foul that he is clearly emitting. It smells of trenches, sewers, and... I am too frightened to go on. The big brown bag is large enough to fit a person. I flinch. “Jackie,” he says, “I know your Mom. I’m here on business. Can I enter?” His voice is clear and striking. I know I must obey. But that call from Mom. This was probably the person that Mom was asking me to let in. Perhaps I should. My thoughts play a wild dancing game of madness inside my head. Should I let him in? He has rings of exhaustion around his eyes. His cheeks are checkered with red spots. I look at his eyes and immediately receive a spasm of trepidation. They are holes- utter holes, chasms of empty emotion… Almost unhuman. Something is wrong; I don’t know what. I let him in. I flinch. His foul smell suffocates the entire room. I smell the rot of flesh, the stench of the sewers, the burning of the infurnace, and something very sinister. He is so mysterious. I offer to take his oversized coat. He ignores me, and heads inside, pulling his coat even tighter to him. “Where is the bathroom?” “Right around the corner to your right,” I stutter. He heads directly towards the bathroom with the large bag, leaving behind big muddy trail marks on the wooden floor. There is a clamor of noises in the bathroom. Something is being banged around. I smell a scent that is absolutely execrable and monstrous. I know something is wrong. I flinch. 24
I feel like running, but I feel frozen to my toes with shock and alarm. I hear the squeak of the shower knob turning. The shower turns on. I stand outside, afraid. I don’t know what will happen next. The shower turns off. The door opens. The man with the big coat comes out. He looks at me with his sadistic eyes. “I left something in my car, I’ll be right back,” he murmurs. I flinch. He pulls open the door, and slams it shut behind him. I realize that he has forgotten his big brown bag. I am too frightened to go the bathroom and see. Instead, I go back to the couch to watch some more TV. I shiver; it is suddenly very cold in here. I fall asleep. Moments later, I wake up. It is 8 :00 pm. I look around, where is the man with the oversized brown coat? There is a knock on the door. I go and open it. Mom. “Hey honey, sorry I’m late, had a business meeting.” “That’s okay Mom. Sorry, I don’t know where the guy who was supposed to meet you went.” “What guy?” “The guy that you said was coming to our house for something. He had long greasy, brown hair and a big overweight coat…” I wanted to go on, explain what I had seen, free myself of the fear that had overtaken- the egregious feeling that something was terribly wrong. “Honey, I don’t know what you are talking about. No one was supposed coming to our house today.” I clutch my arms to myself in panic and stare at her in disbelief. Suddenly, I understand. It was a dream, nothing more. I return to the couch to continue watching television. 25
A scream shatters through the mumble of the TV. Mom. I run to her; she’s at the door of the bathroom. Her face is shocked into an expression of terror and horror. What has she seen? Her arm slowly lifts, her hand slowly unfurls, her finger slowly stretches. She looks at me. I see. The big brown bag in the bathtub. And I scream. - Anonymous
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artwork
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don’t just talk about it:
art about it.
submit your artwork, of any kind, to the ivy magazine. theivyphs@gmail.com phs.prs.k12.nj.us/theivy facebook.com/theivyphs
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photo credits kendall petro 7 left, 8 up, 11, 13-16, 20, 21 avital drucker 3, 10, 12, 18-19 maddie davis 7 right, 17 victoria ehrbar 8 down jen tao 9 allison chen 27, 28, 30-31 veronica bychkova 29, back cover