Page Break Literary Magazine 2024

Watermelon Summer

ByCaitlynArnold

Rooted

ByJuliaByron

Screen

ByAnaiseCooke

God in my Heart

ByMaddieCooke

Rhett and Scarlett

Drift

ByHannahDenny

Lamgorghini Countach

ByEliFisher

Water Lilies

ByNailaHernandez

Roronoa

ByJackieHo

King Charles Spaniel

ByBaileyKeever

Hidden Venus Pool

ByKrisyNguyen

Mustard Shag Wallpaper

ByOliviaRyan

The Galaxy of Me

Myoptimismwasmisplaced.

HowdoIknow?It’smystified Idispleasemyself,sometimes WhenIdivetoodeep, WhenIwaterupmyeyes Iwonderwhattheysee, Isearchforthisgreatme She’ssomewhere,inside. Allatonce,eventhen You’llpretendtobemy Friend,Ionceconsidered Iwastruthful,nowIlie. I’mthedarksideofthemoon,allbecausetheykeptmealive. Ibreathemyartandthisverypoemfillsmylungs, I’mheldtogetherbythisforce,strongerthanathousandsuns. They’vekeptmeinorbit,nowtheythinkIshouldstayoutside.

Myconfidersarelikestars, Burningalive,beforeoureyes They’lltellmeoldwivestales, Andunravelalltheirlies. I’llnodandagree,and,inmyhead, I’llkeepnoteofthethingsIneversaid. Whenitkillsme,understand, Tomycreation,Iammorevolatilethanman.

ByBeatrizBernardino

Summer

Thebrightglareofthehot,goldensunreflectingoffthewater shoneinmyeyes,blindingmewithitsglisteningbeauty.AsI retreatedintotheshade,Ifeltawhooshofcoolairthatwas relievingandchilling.Thesuddencoldbroughtforthdistant memoriesofthespringthatseemedagesago.Myhandswere stickywithsugarandflavor,anuncomfortablebutnostalgic sensation.Thecold,sweet,wonderfultasteofcream,sugar,and vanillacoatedmytongue,makingmytastebudspracticallydance withjoy.Isatdownundertheshadeandlickedthedeliciousice cream,myeyesclosed,andIfellintoadeep,peacefuldaydream. Hopes,dreams,andmemoriesswirledaroundmymind,mingling witheachotheruntilIwasn’tsurewhatwasrealandwhatwas fantasy.Thecrunchoftheconebreakingunderthepressureofmy sugar-coatedteethsoundedloudtome,butIknewthatitwasonly awhisper.WhenIfinishedthelastofthesweet,crunchycone,I driftedoffintoblissfuldreamsofsummer.

ByElizaBuck

Psyche

Eyesofsepiaoutlinedinlayersofblackliner, Poutylipsofablood-likehue, Astarethattakesyoureverybreathinto consideration, I’minsanelyobsessedwithyou.

Iwatchthisfigurefromacrosstheroom, Blackfingernailsfumblingforapen. Twodoeeyeslookupatme; Iglancedownatthefloorandbackagain.

Nasallywordscamefromthelips; TheyspokewordsI’veneverheardbefore. IwasenchantedasIheldtheirhands, Takingthemintomyembraceandholdingonto themforevermore.

Yearshavepassedsincethatmoment. Asparkthatwasonceaseedisnowagrandtree. Handpressedagainstmine,Istareintothemirror, AndsmileasIseethereflectionofme.

YoumustmaintainstraightA’s;joineverysingleclub;studyahead oftime;collegeswanttoseethatyou’vemadeadifference; challengeyourself;finishyourwork;takingabreakwon’tkillyou; donotprocrastinate;youarefallingbehind;becomethepresident oftheclubs;volunteeroutsideofschool;youareslackingoff;what aboutmymentalhealth?;sacrificeafewyearssoyoucanbehappy inthefuture;studyfortheACT;a25isnotenoughfora scholarship;givetimeforyourself;studyfortheSAT;relax,you havetime;an1100won’tgetyouanywhere;retakethosetests, you’rerunningoutoftime;makefriends,you’renotaloser; friendsaredistractions;focusonschool;buildyourresume;finish youressays;focusonschool;a3.8GPAisnotenough;makeyour parentsproud;thisisoverwhelming;donotgetdiscouraged;your parentshaveagoodreputation,don’tmessitup;stayafterschool; leavebefore3:30;befriendyourteachers;donotbeafraidtoaskfor help;studywhatyoudon’tknow;donotaskforhelp,theywill thinkyou’redumb;communicatewitheveryone;doyoustillhave straightA’s?;thereismoretolifethanschool;donotflauntyour grades,it’llbelittletheothers;didyouchallengeyourself academically?;willeightAPclassesdothetrick?;dothepractice MCQ’s;schoolsonlyconsiderfoursandfives;dothepractice FRQ’s;prepareforthenextclubmeeting;planouttheentireyear; youmustbeabsentonlyforemergencies;donotfallbehindin class;skippingonedaydestroysanentireyear;focusonschool; thereisnothingtostressabout;timeisonyourside;yourfamily willloveyoueitherway;you’restillakid;yeah,akidwhohasto prepareforthefuture;whyareyousoworriedforthefuture?You aretheonlyonepressuringyourself.

Youhavetocalmdown.Think.Thinkofyouracceptanceletters; thinkaboutyourrecognition;Youaremorethannumbers,more thanscores,morethanstatistics.

Think.Howmanymemoriesdidyoumake?Howmanytimesdid youlaugh?Howmanytimesdidyousmile?Howmanytimesdid youcry?Howmanyofthosetimesweretearsofjoy?

Now,ask,areyoureadytomakenewmemories?Areyoureadyto letgo?

I don’t know. You are.

ByElaineDeGuzman Breathe. In, and Out.

Ode to My Past

I’lljoineverything.

Mydedication’sworthit.

Ioweyoumythanks.

It’ssurrealtomethatIsubmittedmyfirsthaikuinmyCOVIDcontrolledFreshmanyear,andnowI’msubmittingmyfinal poems.I’vereadandeditedoverfortyessays,poems,andshort storiesduringmyfouryearsasaneditor.It’sanhonortobepartof ateamconsistingofhard-workingandcreativeindividualsandto haveappreciatedinspiringartandliteraturefromourschool community.

Throughoutmyhighschoolcareer,myparentstoldmetojoin everyclubandeverycontestIwasinterestedin.Ofcourse,I listenedtothem,andI’vehadnumerouspleasantsurprisesandmy fairshareofdisappointments.Nonetheless,theseexperienceshave allowedmetomeetnewpeopleandcomeoutofmyshell.I formedsomeofmystrongestrelationships,metmyrolemodels, andnavigatedmanyofthethingsIloved.

Lookingretrospectively,Iholdanimmenseamountofgratitudeto myteachers,friends,family,andmentors.Withoutthem,Ireally wouldn’tknowwhoI’dbe.

Ontomynextjourney,

ByElaineDeGuzman

My Keffiyeh

At 11 years old, I sat on a wooden stool with a vibrant wardrobe engulfing my sight. While observing the rapid movements of my mom’s organization, a foreign item charmed my interest. Unable to suppress my beaming curiosity, I interrogated her.

“Hey mom, what’s this?” I asked, holding up a white and black piece of delicate cloth. Her curious eyes sought the fabric and familiarity consumed her.

“It's your dad’s keffiyeh.” This exotic name allowed a perplexed look to overtake my features.

With research, I learned that the keffiyeh is our traditional Arabian garment that is worn around the head for Palestinian representation. While further analyzing the item, I noticed three different black patterns intricately sewn upon the delicate white textile. The motifs represent fishing nets, ocean waves, and Palestinian trading routes. The keffiyeh was once foreign to me; now its symbolic patterns arouse identity and unity.

Allow me to elaborate:

The webbed design, similar to that of a fishing net, is imprinted onto the center on the keffiyeh. The interlaced pattern mirrors ideas of collectivism and unity. The fishnet portrays how a lone thread flourishes when connected with familiarity. While reflecting on the motif’s connotation, I couldn’t help but relate it to my family and our heritage. I am of Palestinian descent and engaging in the diversity of my community has allowed me to become a strand in the grand scheme of things. I hold a great appreciation for my culture and the adversities that my ancestors have endured. I’ve acquired an open-minded and appreciative perspective through acknowledging diversity, which unites people through offering the opportunity to become knotted together, as one.

Surrounding the borders of the keffiyeh, a black wavelike stitch is sewn. This artistic pattern is designed to symbolize strength and perseverance. The ripple effect presents how the rugged nature of the Mediterranean sea is akin to diverse groups, who have persevered through privation. This motif has constantly been associated with me. Conquering the battle of being different in America was challenging. I was frequently teased at school for my ethnicity. Suffocated by America’s unattainable standards, the vicious claws of insecurity pounced at me. Because of the hardship thrown my way, I was faced with a crucial decision: masking my identity and submitting to defeat or conquering the battle and embracing my ethnic background. I opted for the latter. I began to spark interest in my heritage and once I learned to love my background, and the crippling insecurity vanished instantly.

The broad lines that border the waves represent the networks of different cultures joining together, causing an interchange of contrasting heritages. Prior to emerging into high school, I was oblivious to the multitude of individuals who were akin to me. As I wandered through the school hall, I began to acknowledge my interest in different cultures and traditions through the diversity seen within my school and community. I indulged my interest through joining diversity clubs and visiting cultural festivals I have grown to appreciate experimenting with unfamiliar foods. Through my adoration of different cultures, I have become more aware and amazed by the diversity that is seen all throughout America.

As I grew older, the keffiyeh transformed from a symbol of hope and culture into a representation of my personal growth and the symbolism it holds. I have grown in my knowledge of my own heritage, as well as the heritage of others and, in doing so, have also nurtured my own confidence. The elaborate design of my journey of self-discovery, knowledge, and strength embraces the portrayal of the keffiyeh and my personal narrative.

ByDeannaFdoul

Has Cupid Ever Bothered Anyone But Him?

I knew the stories of mortals, mortals like Ganymede who were carried up to Olympus because the gods enjoyed their beauty. I was a mortal. I knew mortals like I who had repeatedly disobeyed the gods, loved the gods, betrayed them even. I was the mortal who spent time with the god of the Sun. I was the mortal who had heard my lover’s cries even through the underworld's dark tunnels, the sounds carrying his pain even as my soul passed through the wind they carried. The god I knew had given up his long life and spent his everlasting time with me. I had loved him, still I do. I heard other stories of his lovers: Daphne was now supporting the incredible beauty she had with equally as beautiful tree branches, but yet no matter their size her love for the god hadn’t grown. Coronis was shot down by his twin blood, but I like to think there is no greater love than theirs, one of the same date. I considered myself lucky to know I was never behind her aim. Cassandra spouted truths that listeners would turn to ignore, her words being cast aside as loudly as I had watched other’s love for each other, gone in instances. I had loved, still I do. I spent my mortal days with Apollo and wondered what he had done for Cupid to bother him so often. I wondered what he had done for someone’s body to be so perfect for loving, for holding, only for that golden skin to be cast over with a shade of rejection. I was a mortal prince who had wanted nothing but to live my life alone; I did not think Cupid would strike my heart. Apollo was godly, but beside the clear godly adoration everyone had for him, he was a person deep within. I learned where his skin would fit with mine perfectly, where his lips would mold with mine, and sometimes I wondered if others were jealous of how perfectly I fit with him. godhood.

Apollo’s love never cast me astray; I had never wanted to grow apart from him. I was a Spartan, born in athletics as Apollo had known, and had shared an equal love for.

I knew I was not a god, I knew my lifespan would deplete one day with nobody but my family at my side. I had not prepared myself for the arrow that had hit my heart to turn the gold intertwined with the veins in my heart towards the lonely god. I wanted to impress. I wanted to show the god I was deeply sorry for not being able to spend every mortal second I had with him. I feared another god would hit me down for loving too fiercely, for holding my hand over Apollo’s heart and telling him stories where love prevailed, where Cupid did not curse him for wanting to be held by the same hands I always held him with. I let the god know it was not a crime to want to be loved.

“Then why must Cupid pull us apart?” He had asked in response. I stared at him, the gold flecks in his skin, the ones embedded in his eyes that shone in the sun when I looked at him the right way. I told him that Cupid was not made to pick favorites. I told him that Cupid had given him another chance to prepare the long feast of love. I had put his hand over my beating heart and told him Cupid had chosen us to defy the curse he had laid upon him. I watched him brighten, brighten like the sun was exploding and for a mere second I considered the fact that my eyes may have been on fire. Apollo wanted to show me his love for me, for my athletics through a discus. Apollo had thrown first, a wonderful throw, one fit for a god like him.

I stood and made moves to impress. I picked up a discus and threw it, but I found that the rounded object did not meet my hand or return to me at all. I walked a few steps and looked about to see if I could see my discus, wondering if I had perhaps shown off too much and that it was truly gone. I looked at the god, Apollo, when it hit me that the discus wasn’t coming back. I felt shame, embarrassment for trying to show off in front of him and when I had opened my mouth to stop whatever wretched things he’d say about my hubris, the world went gray, the sun along with it. I had thought this was a curse from him, to take away my only true sight. To take away the sight I had loved seeing, the brightness of his smile, however, faltered, and I had soon realized the brightness was holding me. My skin burned and I wondered if I was dreaming, if there truly was no sun god and I had just stepped too close to the sun itself. A sun with not an emotion behind its eyes, a sun with a burning fierce power that flayed my skin and head as if it were death holding me. The vision of Apollo had gotten smaller and I could not see him very well before my vision truly disapperated, but before I went and the sun was not cast on us any longer, I saw the young god holding me like we had always lain. His perfect lips lay upon my own, upon my cheek, then my hands. I noticed the emotion that poured through him like a fierce river Poseidon had lost control of, the streams of water sizzling on my skin as our love evaporated into the air, as I lay dying.

I realized once the sun had gone out, I was hit by a discus thrown by Zephyrus.

That’s what I had been told. An act of jealousy had taken the god out of my life just as I had been prepared to offer my soul up to the god for the rest of my life. I could feel the echoes of the rays of his smile on my skin and the burning sensation I felt on my cheeks. I could feel the far cries and tears of his sorrow landing on my body as I passed onto the next life. We were not mortals, we were not like the young lovers Achilles and Patroclus who were able to be buried together, because my arrow carried me into the hands of a god crafted for me in every sense, Cupid had prepared and ripped my skin off of my body so that all Apollo could hold was my bones. I was not going to be a lover Apollo had lived with forever, no. I was going to be the lover Cupid had crafted and prepared for sacrifice, I was yet another lover who had died and left the god of the sun to mourn what little time we had. Godhood had been wanted by many power hungry people, but when I thought about the pain I saw even behind that ray of shine Apollo had been, I wondered what he had done to be plagued with an eternal fate of rejection. As my soul was laid in the field to stand for eternity, I let my hand touch my heart and remembered how I had watched him count my heartbeats, watched as he held me softly as I died. For things have to be hard to be a god of healing, but unable to save the ones you love more than

ByAnsleyGarvin

Autumn Trails Home

Vibrant sunsets paired with deep twilight skies, a cool autumn breeze flowing through the forest, stirring up a shower of crimson maple leaves decorating the woodland grounds. Spying the distinct image of wildlife from the corners of my eyes, deer darting through the thicket, squirrels scurrying into their nests as the evening called out to an awaiting slumber.

It was times like these that I missed her the most. I continued to travel through the woods, a single destination in mind…

“You lazy bum, wake up!” A pencil thwacked the top of my head, and in the next instant, my head shot up from the wooden coffee table, letting out a confused garble of words upon awakening.

I looked up to warm, soft laughing from across the table. Sharp brown eyes lit up as she laughed, soft, sun-kissed skin wrinkled in amusement, and long locks of curly brown hair bounced with each exhale that left her lips.

Even with my sleep disturbed, I couldn’t be upset. Spending time with her meant the world to me, no matter what it meant doing.

“Damian, you promised we’d study together for final exams!” She said once her amusement settled, pouting as I shook off the last of my drowsiness but made no effort to look interested in reviewing.

“We did study,” I cheekily replied, a sly smirk on my face as I started to lower my head again. “For thirty minutes. Plus, that’s not our main concern here.”

She sighed at that, flicking my head with her hands this time. Soft, I noted.

“True, but I already finished my applications to study abroad,” she explained, glancing out to the windows next to us in the cafe. “May as well study for upcoming exams before the year’s over.”

Fall’s spell had long taken effect over the town, gold and crimson leaves sprinkled over pearly sidewalks, a sunflower hue peering down from the sun, coloring the world like a vivid painting. I spared a glance outside as well, noting a particular leaf clinging onto a tree, refusing to fall even as the wind battered and beat it. Resonating oddly with it, I sighed, flipping through my unfinished applications and study guides.

“It’s still hard to believe that traveling students get to end their final year during the fall semester,” I muttered more to myself than anyone else. “Feeling a bit bad for everyone staying behind, but even leaving is jarring in its own right.”

“But it’s so exciting too!” she argued, her eyes lighting up at the thought. “Making it on your own in a new place, meeting new people and seeing the world; it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

I chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Yeah,” I agreed with a slight smile, a small reluctance hidden behind it. “It’s a shame we won’t have moments like these anymore…”

Autumn was my favorite season for a plethora of reasons. The warm, cozy atmosphere as the world’s energy began to shift, the pleasant smell of spices and baked goods flowing from restaurants. The tranquility that came from spending time with friends and family–with her–never failed to settle my nerves and worries. “Don’t say that, Damian. You know we’ll stay close, even once we part ways.” I could sense a similar anxiety in her gaze, though it was nowhere as evident as mine. She was always the more positive of us, managing to keep an inspiring smile on her face, regardless of the circumstances. “Phones are still a bit of a rarity around here, but I’m sure we’ll be able to get some in the city. That way, we can chat whenever we get time.”

“Yeah…” I said, sparing a solemn glance at my papers, spying only the messy handwriting of my own name at the top. “Once we get to the city..”

Passing by the cemetery, I spared a glance at the noticeably clean tombstone sitting between a mix of old and dirtied others. I couldn’t see the faded words etched into the tomb, but I still knew what they said.

They were the names of my parents, who had died on this exact day several years ago, back when I was just getting ready to leave the town, leave the country.

Leave, with her.

It was a sudden tragedy. They were in good health despite their advanced age, but fate took a turn for the worse with their hearts. My only comfort was knowing they parted ways from this world together, side by side in the hospital as they said their goodbyes to me, and everything else they’d be leaving behind. Their friends. Their family.

My dreams.

Autumn. It’s a shame so many goodbyes occur in such a bittersweet season.

“Damian? You really came…” Her voice was soft, yet consumed with grief, pity crossing her features upon seeing my disheveled form, hardly any energy in my steps, dragging myself along with only one goal in mind.

I had to see her off. If my dreams had to die, I at least wished to witness the birth of another. Her dreams.

“Come on, I’ve always kept my promises,” I said, offering a weak smile. She returned it, though I knew she could tell how hard it was to even form the expression. “Back when we were studying a few months ago at that cafe, we promised to see each other off.”

I looked up to the gateway, reading the destination schedule displayed. England, a whole world away from home. A one way trip to a new life, with no plans to return.

“Damian, you lost your parents literally hours ago,” she pleaded, dropping her luggage to the floor as she took my hands into her own, eyes sparkling with pity. “If anything, I should be apologizing for leaving, and that I can’t stay to offer support.”

Her voice lowered into a whisper as her grip tightened. “I don’t know why I’m doing this…The person I care about most is heartbroken, yet here I am getting ready to abandon-”

“Don’t you dare say that.” I retorted, switching our hands so that mine covered hers, pulling them close to my chest as I continued. “None of us predicted it, so it was too late to cancel by the time it happened.”

“Besides…it’d be cruel of me to keep you here, knowing you should be off living your dreams in England.”

Taking a deep breath, for the first time in hours I gave a bright, genuine smile. One that could rival even her own.

“It’s like the saying goes: If you love someone, you have to let them go.”

Fate was a complex thing. The one who I shared my life with, whom I’ve loved for years, was leaving me. That day, I lost so much, yet gained so much more in those few words.

The evening had grown late by the time I made it out of the forest, brushing off stray leaves collecting on my body from the trail. There I stood, back into the town that had changed so much in the years that I remained.

Shops had come and gone, people drifted through the town like tumbleweeds, where unfamiliar faces mixed with the few remaining people that I knew from childhood.

Others my age had long since packed up and left, searching for more to their lives, just as she did. I might have been the only one left, a straggling bird left behind by its flock as they migrated with the autumn winds.

Years of grief, struggles and isolation. Learning to support myself, to comfort myself as friends slowly drifted away, leaving me behind with the one thing I had left.

A promise. One that we had made in those final moments before she had to leave, still bittersweet that I wouldn't be sharing that same youthful joy alongside her.

“Wait for me at the cafe. I’ll come back for you. Promise?”

“It’s a promise.”

Neither of us were the type to break a promise. So every day, for years I would go to that same cafe, awaiting the day she would finally return home.

And return she did. On the anniversary of the day my dreams died, they were reborn into something much brighter that I could’ve ever hoped for.

There, standing outside the building, stood that familiar face that I adored. The face I could never forget, even after countless years of separation.

Turning her head towards my footsteps, her eyes lit up in that familiar warmth, radiating sunlight like the evening glow that shone over us. With the smile and gaze that I had longed for she ran up to pull me into a tight embrace, the years of separation fading away in that moment. She parted her lips, and the word I wished to hear most finally arrived.

“Damian!”

I buried myself in her shoulder, noting the familiar scent of spices and maple from her. Home. That’s what I smelled.

“I missed you.” I sighed, pulling her closer. “Welcome home, Autumn.”

ByMcKennaMcIntyre

The Curious Case on Problematic Procrastination

Awakeningattheraysofgoldendawnlightglitteringdown blinkingatthesun,cloudsofunmotivation havetakenovermyearlythoughts,leavingmetodrown Iglanceovertotheblankpagesscatteredacrossmybed, recallingthenearendlessnightbefore graspingforwordsthathavenowfled amightyharvestofinspiration nowreducedtoscrapsandspoilsleftfordamnation

Eveninadirestatelikethis, mystandardsstillremainatanalltimehigh.

WhataclownamIhuh?Badum-tish

Nobodysaidthishadtobeyourmagnumopusyouknow…. True,butI’llstillactlikeitshould.

Youdon’tevenhaveanythingtobeamagnumopus.

I’mworkingonit!

Snappingoutofinternaldebate, thesunnowsitshigheruponitsskywardthroneirate, aharshandjudginglightbearingdownuponmyback.

Aburningicethatsendsshiversuponmyskin,exposingthe realityofmysituationonceagain.

Nicework,whileyouwerearguingwiththeair,youwasted theentiremorning. Ohwhoaskedyou?Thesethingstaketime.

Time.Notthatlongagoitseemedlikeanearendlesspath. Awinding,welcomingroadthatstretchedouttowardsthe morethanplentifultime Ihadtoworkonit.

Atleastthat’swhatitfeltlikeaboutaweekortwoago.

Nowitwasmorelikeadirtylinethatlookedsketchedoutbya stick.Evenifwewereactivelytryingnotto, wesawwhereitstarted andwhereitended, anditdidn’thelp thatitwas like…fourfeetaway Wehaven’tmoved,buttheroad’sbeenchanging.

Bitbybit,it’sshriveledupbeforeyou,theinevitableend becomingclearerwitheachpassingday.

Youknow,thatwouldbeanicelineforadarkerpoem-

Canyoupleasefocus?You’renotwritingoneofthose!

Idon’tevenknowwhatIAMwritingtobehonestwithyou.

Andasiftotauntmymindevenfurther,myeyesrebelled, directingmyattentiontoasingularwordprinteduponawhite canvas. Thesunhadgrownboredofmyfailuresandtookitsleaveto slumberundertheskyandstars.

Substitutingforitsbrightercompanion, thegentlemoonwasmorecomforting asitobservedthedistressradiatingfrommyformlike agapingcanyon

Fleetinglight,roaringmoonlight

Lunarflame,solarchill

Wait.WhatwasItalkingaboutagain?

No,no!Don’tstop!Youactuallyhadsomethingthere! Evenifthesefluffywordssoundniceonpaper,Igenuinely havenocluewhattheymean.

Themoonbringsagentleflameofinspiration, awakeningmymindtoasurgeofnewthoughtsandideas.

Limitlesscreations,unbridledliberation,alliteration, obliteration-

(WhendidIstartrhyming?I’mnotcomplaining,itcamewith greattiming.

Waitno,Ican’tstop!Cutouttheinspirationbeforemyhead pops!)

Iletoutanechoingyawn,andjustlikethat,mymidnight motivationhasnowbeenovertakenbytheall-powerful, undeniableurgetosleep.

Youcan’tgotosleepyet!Youwerejustonaroll!Lookathow muchyoumanagedtodo!

Yeah,wellI’mtired,soI’lldoittomorrow.I’msureI’ll rememberallthiswhenIwakeup.

NO.NOYOU-

Butit’stoolatethen.I’veretreatedtomyden,thelastflickers ofvibrantvocabularyfadedawayinfavoroftranquilzen.

Andyou’restillrhyming!Atleastpretendyouaren’t procrastinating!

Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.Nowshush,tomorrow I’llfinishIswear.

Awakeningattheraysofgoldendawnlightglitteringdown blinkingatthesun,cloudsofunmotivation…..

ByMcKennaMcIntyre

The Creation

God is a sculptor, a creator. We, Lord God, are the clay and You are our potter. Height, shape, color, and hair, Everyone is created differently, but with infinite care.

After six days of work, God rested the last day. Let us, therefore, make every effort to enter that rest, so that no one will perish away. Six days of work builds up stress; The last day shall let us cool down and not digress.

God was before all creation, before everything was visible. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together, indivisible.

Many volcanoes erupt, We don’t know how Earth began to form, it was so abrupt.

They reside in perfect harmony and connection to God. Sinless and unbroken, they were both naked and did not feel odd. A football team so in sync, Two minutes left and they came back in a blink.

Humanity has “dominion” over the place, For sin has no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace. Many want to play basketball, We don’t like small, but we like to walk the hall

Life will be difficult and cause you to struggle. God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Too many problems coming at you at once, You need to learn from them for this is what He wants.

We experience pain, and we want it to go astray. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.

We shall heal from pain; Only thing left is what we gain.

“The snake tricked me,” passing the blame, He who covers his sins will not prosper, and instead feel shame.

He told me to break it, The blame I will not admit.

Humanity has the breath of God; He invades our personal space.

The Lord God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, forming his face.

Gasping for air, I need CPR; He healed me, and I have no scar.

ByBraylonMitchell

The Envelope

“Good morning, Andrew,” one of his colleagues says to him. Andrew has just arrived at his office after a long and dreary night of finishing up a project for his boss. He is tired and groggy and doesn’t want to speak to anyone.

“Are you all right?” his colleague asks. Andrew responds with a grunt as he drags his feet to his cluttered cubicle. When he sits down, he contemplates his life. He has a low-paying job with a tough boss that he hates, but no one else would hire him since he has no experience. He barely has money and no close family besides his father, with whom he is very close, but who always tells him that he can do better

After a long day of getting yelled at to stop slacking and get a move on, he hangs his head low and traverses to his apartment. As soon as he arrives there, he opens the door to the building’s small lobby and checks his mailbox. Inside is a large, packed envelope sitting on the cold metal surface, addressed to him, but with no return address There is a very strange and unique stamp on the upper right corner of the envelope, but he pays no mind to it. Andrew drags it out of the box and walks it up to the third floor of his apartment building. He opens his old, creaky door and sits down on his slightly weathered sofa to see what’s in the envelope.

“I wonder what this could be,” he silently mutters to himself as he haphazardly opens the package. After ripping the top open, he sees that it is filled with money. He looks around, expecting someone or something to come out of the shadows, but it’s only his mind going wild. He carefully pulls the money out of the envelope and sets the now empty package aside, and after slowly counting all the banknotes, he finds out that it equals a little over twenty thousand dollars He is thrilled, and his mind is racing far ahead of him on what to do with it. Soon this sudden high catches up with him; he informs himself that he doesn’t know who it is from or why it was given to him. He finally sits down and listens to the hum of the air-conditioning along with the chatter of people walking on the sidewalk below and tries to calm himself. He decides to put it in a safe spot and see if he receives something else.

He goes to work the next day with only the envelope on his mind. His boss scorns him for not paying attention while he is talking. A few more hours pass and during his lunch break, he talks to Howard, one of his co-workers. Andrew asks him what he would do if he suddenly received twenty thousand dollars

Howard chuckles and briefly tells him, “You know I would use it on my car to fix it up!”

A week passes and no other letter makes its way into his mailbox, so he goes for a walk and thinks about what he should do with the money. He loves the town he lives in, but it can be pretty underwhelming with the trash on the streets and the stench of the humidity mixed in with dirty clothes. After walking a little way, he finds an old, dilapidated building with a for-sale sign taped to one of the windows. He peeks through the gray, glass block windows and sees an old concrete floor covered in dust and old, tattered boxes. Andrew thinks to himself, “I could turn this into something, but it just looks so run down.” After walking around some more, he decides to do some research. After rummaging around on the internet and finding some useful tips, he contemplates the thought of starting a business as he turns off the laptop and drifts off to sleep.

He is awakened by birds chirping on his window seal and the sunlight finally reaching through his window; he bolts upright and looks at the time. “Oh,” he tells himself, “It’s Saturday, no work.” He looks around his apartment after that strange experience and opens his laptop once again to research some more. After a few hours, he gains enough confidence to call the real estate agent; he is given a tour and decides to think about it some more. He decides to meet up with Howard and a few of their colleagues for lunch at the sandwich shop on the corner. Although Andrew is anxious about doing something on this scale; he knows that hanging out with other people will do him some good. After ordering, he talks with some of them about how he’s come up with a plan to build a community center, but he doesn't tell them how he got the money to do so. One of Howard’s friends, Janice, says that she would love to help Andrew start up his very own business. Joseph, another one of their associates, commented that he would love to help out. Andrew goes on to explain, “Me and my father have always known that I’ve loved working with kids. They need something like a community center in this town so they don’t get into trouble.” After a few seconds of tranquility with only the sound of chatter from the other tables and the clang of dishes in the kitchen, Andrew announces, “

Alright, I’ll tell you what you can help with soon. I really appreciate your help, since now you have to go to work and help me with this.”

Over the next several months, Andrew signs the contract with the real estate agent and fixes up the building with Janice, Joseph, and a few hired workers while also working at the office. The center is finally open and quite successful with over a dozen kids coming each day. The center even receives multiple donations from a few local businesses because of the large influence it has on the town. Even Andrew’s father comes down from Americus to visit him. When Andrew sees his father, he greets him with a big smile and a heartwarming embrace.

His father says to him, “Look at what you have done. I always knew there was something more in ya’. I have the most extraordinary son in the world.”

A year flies by, and Andrew receives word that his father has suddenly passed away. He drives up to Americus with his partners to attend the funeral. When they arrive at the cemetery, they notice that many people are attending the event.

“He must have been a well-respected man,” Janice whispers. Andrew responds, saying that he was that one person in a town that everybody loved. Janice and Joseph leave for Albany to run the center while Andrew and his cousin Rose sort through his father’s house. Andrew is in his study going through his desk drawers. He finds his father’s stamp collection, one of his most prized possessions.

“I remember when you used to show these to me,” Andrew quietly said to the room. After flipping through a few of the souvenir sheets, he notices something peculiar. One of the stamps is missing with a message written in its place. While reading it, Andrew starts tearing up, finally finding out who helped him in the beginning.

“Dear Andrew,” it read, “You are the greatest treasure I could ever ask for. You are destined for greatness. You always had it in you; all that you needed to do was just find it. Happiness is not the same for everyone; but for me, it is seeing you succeed.”

ByLouisMcMickle

The Woods

He was out in the woods; darkness surrounded him. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he had to keep moving. It felt like everything was against him, wanting to physically or mentally attack him, even the thin branches of the brush beneath the tall, thick oak trees mixed in with the luscious, towering pines. His dull orange hoodie contrasted with the not-so-bright leaves at night. Thankfully. it was the beginning of the spring season, and all the plants and bushes hadn't grown out just yet, making the woods just bearable enough for him to be out there in the first place. While running, he was contemplating everything that had happened that day, most of which involved his parents getting onto him about his addiction to electronics then having a small gathering of friends over to watch the big game, and the disaster that took place right after he started scrolling on his phone. If it couldn’t be figured out already, Johnny had many upon many fears, especially of nature.

It was 11:00 in the morning on a Saturday, and he loved sleeping in. It brought him peace the school week didn’t give him. Once it got late enough though, he always seemed to wake up to the point of it not being easy to fall back asleep. He walked downstairs and grabbed his phone from the kitchen counter. Once he checked it, he realized he forgot to charge it throughout the night. “Great, now I have to sit in the kitchen and let it charge,” he mumbled to himself. His dad walked into the kitchen, “Good morning- or I should say evening!” he bellowed. Once hearing this, his mother,

who was in the other room, walked in as well and said good morning. Then things got serious. They started complaining and reprimanding him about how he’s always on his phone, scrolling through whatever social media or app calls for him to do so. There were two things in life he truly enjoyed, Hershey, his dog, and electronics. These always brought him comfort and suppressed the outside world, which can be a scary and cold place. He didn’t really like having friends over on the weekend. He always believed that weekends were for himself and just to spend time alone. His parents knew that, but they tried anyway.

That evening, his parents’ friends started to arrive for the game. While the adults were watching the game, he was put on “dog-watch,” where he would obviously watch the dog and make sure he wasn’t doing anything mischievous. Such devious acts included eating the food off the island in the kitchen and escaping outside. After a while, he sat down in a different room from where the party was taking place and looked at his phone. He noticed the dog looking out the window intently as if something was out there, or even someone. Johnny looked out the window as well and saw nothing. Then it moved. It was just a squirrel out in the yard, apparently looking for some food. Johnny got lost in his phone once again, and a few moments later, the dog ran out of the room and through the doggy door in the adjourning front hallway. After comprehending what had just occurred, he darted out of the room as well and opened the door while calling for him. He didn’t want Hershey to hurt any creature or himself, as he was quite clumsy.

He saw Hershey darting across the street and into the woods, and then he was gone. “Oh no,” Johnny thought to himself, and with a slight bit of hesitation, he ran after the dog, calling for him while leaving the safety of the house behind and entering the dark and scary woods. At first, it wasn’t so bad; he didn’t really have time to think about how creepy it was out there at night. Thankfully, he also had his phone, which he used as a flashlight. He also knew these woods stretched for miles, and he realized there was not much hope of finding Hershey quickly. He stopped trying to run along the uneven ground and just walked, no longer hearing the crumpling of leaves by either animal. Hershey was the only being he wanted to hang out with through the week, creating a strong bond between the two. Johnny called out for him again, but he heard nothing, Hershey was probably long gone. The woods were surprisingly quiet, with the chirp of the crickets, the croaking of the frogs, and the occasional faint rumble of the cars on the road behind him. After walking for five minutes, he started to feel lost. “Hershey!” he called. He wanted to turn around, but he knew his parents would blame him. Besides, he loved his dog too much to give up now. Then he heard something, the leaves crunching; he sped up, hoping it was Hershey, but alas, it was not. It was a bird, and it looked as if its wing was injured. It was trying to fly and move around, but it was struggling. Moved by this, Johnny picked it up, put it in his hoodie pocket, and continued walking. He hoped he would find Hershey soon so he could take care of the wounded bird. Even though Johnny was quite introverted, he was always caring for animals. Maybe that could be why he was willing to go into the dark woods for his dog.

After walking for a while, he came across what looked like a shed, yet it was so deteriorated it barely represented one. Thinking about what monstrous creature could live in there, he sped by it, leaves crunching and flowing behind him. As he picked up his pace, he felt something wrap around his right foot. Johnny started sprinting, but it kept wrapping itself around him. “It’s a snake, I’m going to die, I’m going to die!” he quietly exclaimed. He started jumping and kicking his leg around, hoping to knock whatever it was off, but it wouldn’t stop. Chills and adrenaline coursed through every part of his body as he flailed around. He looked down and saw it was just a green rope. He sighed a breath of relief, realizing he was spooked by just a piece of fiber. He loosened the rope and stepped out of it, kicking it away, horrified at what just happened, then he kept walking. “This has been quite an eventful night," he thought to himself, “I’ve found a wounded bird, which I hope is still ok, and maybe the woods aren’t as scary as I originally thought.” While calling out for Hershey once again, he ran into a spider web, and as we all could predict, he went berserk. He swatted at everything in front of him to try to get it off of his face. Once clear of all spidermade webs, he looked back and saw a tiny little spider on the tree branch, almost sad looking, seeing all his work get torn up. “Sorry, little buddy, not much I can do to help,” Johnny said. He started to realize that he was more of a threat to the spider than the spider was to him. Suddenly, he heard rustling once again, along with some barking.

“Hershey!” he wondered and called. He sprinted over to the noise, still cognizant of the bird he had stored away. He wasn’t scared anymore and realized the most dangerous thing in the woods was himself, mentally and physically. It was Hershey, and he was barking up a tree after the squirrel who had finally climbed up high enough to escape him. “Hershey! Come on!” he said to him. Johnny wasn’t mad; he was actually somewhat happy. He had stepped out of his comfort zone and done something he was scared of, and now realized it was something he shouldn’t fear. Once he found his way back using the shed, rope, and sound of cars as a guide, he sprinted back into the house. “Mom! Dad! I need your help!” he cried to them. “Hey sonny-o, what’s wrong?” his dad asked. “It’s a long story, but I found this injured bird! Can you take it to the vet or something please?” Johnny pleaded. With a sigh and a huff, his dad t00k him to the garage and they hopped in his truck and headed to the emergency animal clinic. Thankfully it was a short drive, only a couple of streets away. They took the bird in and gave it to the vet. The veterinarian said all will be well and the bird is in good hands.

Fast-forwarding a few years, Hershey has since passed, much to the dismay of Johnny, but he will always remember him through memories and the medium-sized, rock-like gravestone at his house. Johnny started volunteering at the local animal shelter, taking care of the animals, since his love for them has only increased. Being at the shelter and around animals has affected his screen time in a positive way, as he spends more time off of it. Looking back he realizes how that terrifying experience on that one fateful night in the woods helped him overcome his fears and showed him he was his own worst enemy.

ByLouisMcMickle

Autumn’s Fall

I’ve never seen colors like this, Of tangerine and lavender in the morning sky.

Watching the trees sway to and fro

With the rays of the rising sun barely peeking through the branches.

Clouds drift away, that once stretched far and wide in the night, Making way for the dawning of a new day. It’s all haunting, really,

How the birds sing their songs of melancholy

As the full moon gazes upon the earth,

Smiling a clever smirk.

All the while, the playground sits empty, Swings blowing in the autumn air

Where the children once played.

My heels make soft tapping noise on the ash pavement

As I hurry to get inside from the blistering cold.

Yet, mesmerized by the howling of the wind, how it captures the essence of the day to come, Silence is all I hear.

The only sound is of rustling leaves, Emboldened by Fall’s scheme of crimson and rust.

Nothing can prepare me for what’s next

For it leaves me wondering what fright.

ByChyrisseSmith

Change

A pecan orchard runs down the road to my neighborhood.

Countless beautiful, tall trees that glisten in the sunlight, bow in the wind, and stand firm through every storm uniformly line that land.

They border acres of indecisive farmland.

Some years it yields cotton, others wheat, sometimes just a field of weeds.

Across the road there's a large field filled with cows; A tiny silo sits at the very back edge of the property. And I can't help but count the cows every time I pass.

A few years ago they planted new pecan trees; The new lines run in between the full-grown trees.

I can almost picture a little kid looking up to their grandfather. They let those saplings grow so tall.

I could see the trees they were to become.

But they've decided to sell the cows. They've torn up the farmland, put up power lines, and built roads. Worst of all

Yet worst of all-They've ripped up the trees.

The proud grandfather trees, The growing baby trees,

They're gone.

And I've never hated the sight of Georgia clay so much.

But I know better than that. They've planted new trees where the cows used to be and different cows have moved into a nearby field. My best guess?

Well, my best guess is that they're building a neighborhood. They'll probably build copy-and-paste houses, But grandfathers will live there, And babies will live there. They'll be there.

And I hope they love the pecan orchard that runs down the road to their neighborhood.

ByVictoriaUbelhor

Strangers

We smiled at each other, as strangers do. a quick glance, awkward acknowledgment, unsure where to look until out of view. We waved at each other, as acquaintances do. a mutual recognition, unnecessary small talk, simple passing moment. We laughed with each other, as friends do. an exciting encounter, joy and appreciation, vibrant adventures. We trusted each other, as lovers do. an unspoken understanding, respect and admiration, supportive cooperation. We ignored each other, as strangers do. a painful reminder, aching heart, unsure what to do next.

ByVictoriaUbelhor

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