Page Break Literary Magazine 2023

They Who Reside

Beyond Ordinary Sight

ByEllaHawkins

World is Ours to Form

ByMcKennaMcIntyre

Pretty Boy

ByLilyLivingston

Creation Story

ByMaryClareClark

Koi of lily pond

Sirene, The Night Sky

ByCaitlynArnold

Lily

She is the Wind

She is the wind

In the sense that she can be kind enough

To brush the hair behind your ears

As an unwavering and unfathomable expression of love, But she often does not know her own strength;

Casting herself upon you so powerfully That she sweeps it entirely across your face, and yet She does not apologize.

I feel her unwavering wrath, How she wishes not to be challenged by anyone or anything.

She is the one who knocks on our doors

To let us know that the sky shall soon fall.

She takes out her anger by thrashing against the sea

While inadvertently consuming any source of light in her path.

And regardless of how furious she may become, She does not apologize.

She is a part of me,

She is the air in my lungs and the source of my being,

And for this, I curse her when I feel that I may resemble her fury.

But I also know that I have acquired her ever resilient strength, And that perhaps I would not be myself without her.

So as I breathe her in, I welcome her and proceed to let her go.

And for this, I have accepted, that She does not apologize.

ByAlyziaHogue-Wildes

Do the Waves Remember You?

The illusive feeling of the cold brushes against my hand

A lingering feeling, one with a heart

The wave traveled with me as my body drifted deeper and deeper, and the feeling remains.

This thrilling Deja Vu is a feeling to some that stays unknown

Another wave, another brush

The ocean hugs my legs and softly hums against my fingers

My own friend, I tell myself

The board supports my weight as I feel my body move up and down against the water

An unspoken bond forms between the board, the water, and I feel my body rise

A larger force meets me halfway

Within seconds, everything merges into one, silence

The wave crashes on top of me, and I lie on my board looking up

Sunbeams and clouds find my line of sight and I sink, relaxed

Another wave approaches and I repeat the process

The creatures of the sea and the fish in their homes look up at me as if I am a friend, I remind myself

That friends are just memories and within memories lie nothing

Who am I to not remember the Ocean?

Why do I ignore something that holds me close when I visit, something that offers me joy?

Who am I to deprive the ocean of a friend, more so, a memory of mine?

If I ask you something, will you answer?

I want to know: do the waves remember you?

ByAnsleyGarvin

A Healthy Obsession

Am I deserving of love?

Am I deserving of care?

Am I deserving of hope?

Am I deserving of people going above

And out of their way

To put me on high

To shine a light

On me, little old me

To make me perfect and hopeful

Peaceful and thoughtful

Shining and staring

Directly in the face of You

You make me feel high like I’m drugged

On the highest dose of love

Of affection too

And plenty of intimacy

You make me feel as if I’m the only other person

Alive

Thrive

With me

Live a life

Full of happiness and joy

With me

Come and make memories

With me Please

I’m practically begging

I’ll get on my knees

And cry and scream and shout

I’m all yours

And you mine

Please be mine

Mine Please

I’m not complete without You

ByAnaiseCooke

Porcelain

a doll made of porcelain she longs to be freed from resignation no longer nobody familiar with obedience no more can she take perpetual disguise beginning to break ages of submission have weakened her expression yet although fragile, she escapes possession relinquishing her mask, she forgoes compliance outraged by her behavior they condemn her defiance but the porcelain plaything she shattered her casing having eluded her owners now autonomy she’s chasing

So, criticize complaisance and its overbearing strings seek out liberty freedom over everything

ByArianaJohns

The Beauty of the Ocean

The beauty of the ocean is hidden in the depths of its water, It is not only shown on the surface of the blue water as the waves crash.

The beauty of the ocean is more than just the soothing sounds of waves crashing, More than just the feeling of the warm water caressing your skin.

Looking out to the ocean, you see no end, but that’s the beauty of it.

You never know when it will end, but you know that you will end up somewhere.

Whether that place is appreciated or not, you know that you have tried.

ByBrittanyCardenas

Reflective Surface

I see all, but cannot touch. I can be touched, yet it leaves a smudge. You can see through me, To some degree. I can budge, To allow you to see.

Reflections are reflected, Fingerprints left behind, Both of us are affected, Maybe, you will give me a sign?

I protect you, until I am broken, Hold on to what is spoken, Wait till you have awoken, To finally open.

Now it’s time for you to leave, I feel so frail. I try to hang on to your sleeve.

I see the string trail. I start to grieve, However, to my avail, I feel a sense of relief.

ByCaitlynArnold

All in a Name

As a child, I absolutely hated my name. Elaine didn’t feel like me at all. “Only old people go by Elaine,” is what I used to say. From watching TV, I wanted to change my name to Daisy or to Tiny. Never wanting Elaine.

In middle school, when I was still finding who I was and where I belonged, I played on my last name, DeGuzman, and called myself “Da Juice Man.” That’s how some people knew me and I liked it that way; I even used it as an escape to seem “more American.” It was a fresh, new name. With it, I became somewhat rebellious just to impress other people. These “friends” did not share the same interests or cultures as me, but I tried to keep their validation. I got caught in the trap of creating a persona that seemed cool and carefree. Then it fortunately died out. Elaine Da Juice Man was not a good representation of who I truly was. Elaine Da Juice Man was a completely different person, who portrayed an alternate version of myself that did not exist.

By ninth grade, I stopped caring about how people viewed me. I just went with the flow and became less influenced by my surroundings. I even disassociated myself from my “friends” in middle school, so Da Juice Man completely vanished from everyone’s minds. A perk of the transition from middle school to high school was the ability to start anew and be perceived with a clean slate. With more opportunities to be active in the school community, I joined many clubs and extracurriculars where everyone knew me as just Elaine DeGuzman, and it was the freshest restart one could ever have. As I progressed throughout my high school experience- even though I’m not done- I earned people’s respect, trust, and friendship.

Now, I see that my name reflects who I really am. I am proud of my growth, I am proud of my impact on society, and I am proud that I can see the value of my name. Now that I’ve grown, I learned to absolutely love my name.

ByElaineDeGuzman

Sonnet III

Buds emerge, rustling in the fresh spring breeze

Out on a limb, she fell and yet she flew

But what death ensues from winter's late freeze?

She prays to see the frost melt into dew

Cradled in a floral nest of petals, Cold permeates her airy feathers

She dreams of warm French countryside castles

Picnics in meadows teeming with flowers

Sharing poetry with her muse of March

By a trickling brook that cleanses their souls

Then, standing under a Chenonceau arch, In white lace dresses, two hearts become whole

A light aria invades the daydream

Her songbird reaches out, bright eyes agleam

ByMadelineJones

Strawberry Seed

I water my little strawberry seed, And I wonder why it has still not grown. Though the package said it was guaranteed, The seed sits still in the ground all alone. “That’s it!” I cry, an idea in mind. What my seed needs is its own little friend! When both the squirrel and the bird declined, I feared that this would be the very end. If nobody else, then how about me? So I sat down by my seed and just talked.

I told stories of sadness and pure glee, Until the time when the rooster squawked.

And as I close my eyes to sleep, I see My strawberry sprout looking back at me.

ByVictoriaUbelhor

Fly to Freedom

Perched along the windowsill, a white dove gazed out into the horizon, taking in all that the outside world had to offer.

The vibrant hues of the earth mixed with the modern towers of the city, melting together into a sight like no other, with forest vines climbing around gray towers or decorating pearl stone streets and roads.

But what stood beyond this world, was what the dove really cared for. A world full of unknowns and dangers, yet brimming with endless possibilities hung out along the golden horizon. A place that embodied freedom itself, and would welcome the dove with open arms, hardships and joys.

The thought urged the dove onward, forward, away from home and out into the real world.

Until the metal bars surrounding it kept it down.

The dove longed for this new life, growing sick of its comforting home slowly turning into a prison, the window to rebirth mere inches from it, yet standing so far away.

Its caretakers insisted it was for the best, and provided it with all that it could ever need, but the cage remained, and the bird grew restless as the days went on.

Even when the cage was made bigger, it was still a cage in the end, and the bird’s desire only grew stronger.

As so it sang. It sang a song of longing, of hopes and dreams. The melody rang out around it in a glorious tune, reaching the ears of everyone in the city.

To most, their spirits lifted, taking the song as the joyful cries of a majestic bird sharing its natural love to the world. But to a select few, their hearts sunk at the sound, the hidden griefs and yearning resonating with them. They could feel how the dove’s cry for escape echoed with each note and tune, its calling for freedom even stronger than before.

For days it sang its hopes out into the world, its voice reaching out to the unknowns, hoping it would call back.

Hope that a way for escape would arrive, hope that one day, the sight of the unknown would be within reach.

Hope that one day, it could fly to freedom, and live out a true life in an unpredictable world, brimming with infinite possibilities.

ByMcKennaMcIntyre

Becoming a Gladiatrix

According to the man I would come to call “Father,” my mother abandoned me as an infant. She wrapped me in a blanket and floated me down the Sarnus River in a basket with the words “Greatness” carved into the edge. Lucky for me, I was found by a man named Grumio before I could be eaten by predators or succumb to my hunger. Grumio raised me as his own daughter and showed me love and guidance. Unfortunately, just after what we believed to be my 10th birthday, my world would become disheveled, and I would lose the man who showed me so much kindness and compassion. Upon Grumio’s death, his brother Augustus would take me in to live with him.

Augustus was nothing like Grumio. He was cruel and treated me just as terribly as he treated his slaves. This harsh treatment led me to run away at age eleven. In order to survive, I worked odd jobs for many different people and sometimes stayed with them for short periods of time. Despite the generosity of these people, I never had a true home or a family to help care for me. This pattern lasted for about three years, and then, a few months after I turned fourteen, I realized that it was becoming harder for me to find work that didn’t require me to become a slave. Though I technically had my freedom, I was not free from the need for survival and a steady promise of that, so I decided to return to Augustus.

When I arrived at Augustus’ home, I found only a pile of rubble. To this day, I have not found a person who can tell me what happened to Augustus, his home, or the people who lived there. Having nowhere to turn, I realized that my freedom was not worth my survival, and I made the hard decision to allow myself to become a slave.

After making this decision, I found myself in the home of Caecilius for whom I worked for just over ten years. Caecilus and his wife Mellisa were the most kind people I had met in quite a while. Living with them seemed like living in a home with a family where we all belonged. And though we slaves knew our place, we never felt as though we were treated like slaves. They never asked too much of us. They were never cruel. They never even raised their voices at us. After many, many years I finally felt love like I had when Grumio saved me. However, this too would fall down around me. During my twenty-fifth year, Melissa passed and, not bearing life without his true love, Caecilus passed just after I turned twenty-six. In their will they left us freedom, and all of their money to be split between the seven of us. This inheritance would not last me a full year, and even though I knew what hardships awaited me as a slave in another family, I also knew that I had to survive. I decided to sell myself back into slavery.

Luckily for me, this time would be far different from all the other times before. This time, instead of being purchased to perform chores and duties within a home under a master and mistress, my ability to be a fierce gladiatrix would be recognized. This time, I was able to sell myself as a gladiator and serve with honor and respect. As it turned out, I was destined for this. My body and mind were sculpted for the service of battle, and I had finally found the greatness my mother thought I should be.

BySavannahDurden

PageBreak2023Staff

ArtEditor: LilyLivingston

LiteraryEditor: ElaineDeGuzman

PublicityManager: BrittanyCardenas

LayoutEditor: SophiaBolan

ArtTeam: RaeganEllis NailaHernandez

JackieHo

McKennaMcIntyre

GraceTaylor

LiteratureTeam: CaitlynArnold

HannahDenny

NailaHernandez

JackieHo

PublicityTeam: CaitlynArnold

ElaineDeGuzman

NailaHernandez

MadelineJones

McKennaMcIntyre

VictoriaUbelhor

LayoutTeam: GraceTaylor

CoverArt: EllaHawkins

FacultySponsor: Ms.EileenCarlson

MadelineJones

McKennaMcIntyre

VictoriaUbelhor