As the last day of school inches closer and closer, the days begin to fly by. There’s a bittersweet nature to it. We’ve accomplished so much this year, experiencing many firsts and eventual lasts. This special edition of the journal allows us to travel back to earlier parts of the year, and reflect on our overall journey and the myriad of emotions we ’ ve all faced.
The submissions we ’ ve received throughout this year are all phenomenal in their own right. This issue explores many themes from the selected pieces from our staff, ranging from love in many forms to identity and the external factors that play a role in who we are as people. With striking imagery, thoughtful analyses, and humor, this edition ends our year off with a proper goodbye.
Through artistically crafted narratives exploring horror, magic, and slices of life, we delve into the lives of the characters thanks to the incredible storytelling and details. In Anya Geist’s ‘24 “New Year's Eve” there is a sense of impermanence mixed with the chaotic nature of life. Her poem reminds us of how important the mundane is in our lives, as the minutes, months, and years fly by without waiting for us to catch up or be ready.
Life is for wonder, it’s for dreaming and finding excitement in the little things. As our Seniors go off to greater things, we urge them to have fun, and not take the small seemingly insignificant moments for granted. As Jason Murillo ‘24 reasons, “Worcester was my home, The Heart of the Commonwealth, Was the heart of all these memories, I’ve gained growing up ” (Home Is Where the Heart Is). As they venture off, we hope that they’ll use the lessons they’ve learned from South and Worcester at large. Wherever you go, Worcester will always be in your heart.
Have a great summer!
All the best,
The Editors-in-Chief
Madeline Trombly and Shannon Dennehy
This Year…
Natalie Boucher, Grade 12
A penny alone and forgotten in the park fountain still shiny but discarded
This was a promise
A comet far beyond the realm of human sight still bright but so far
This was a deepest wish
A birthday candle melted and placed in the garbage Still halfway unburned
This was a new beginning
A dandelion
Fell from the wind to the earth decomposing could sprout so many more the seeds all there on the ground
This is a New Year's resolution.
The Ice Cream Man
Shannon Dennehy, Grade 11
Lasburg was not a normal city. It was anything but. The city folk were normal, as were their homes, lives, occupations; however, it was the after-dark hours that were strange.
Lasburg had a reputation. Sunrise to sunset it was the perfect beach vacation spot. Families would flock to the city to spend their waking hours lathered in sunscreen and roasting in the balmy sun.
After sunset, it was a different story. There was no legal curfew, yet it remained unspoken between the frequent vacationers and locals. You’d think that with such a widespread knowledge of the happenings in Lasburg the culprit would be caught, wouldn’t you? You’d be wrong.
In the end, it didn’t really matter—everyone knew about it.
The first incident occurred in May of 1996, when poor little Susie Chapman disappeared in the night. In the police report, her parents recalled hearing the eerie, twinkling sounds of an ice cream truck far in the distance. In the summer of ‘98, Henry Jer fate, neve James Wa
In total, there were twenty-three kidnappings, and the one thing they all had in common— aside from living in dreadful Lasburg and being between the ages of nine to sixteen, were the sinister echoes of an ice cream truck. Strangely for a beach destination none of the ice cream shops on the boardwalk owned ice trucks. When the police searched the DMV for ice cream truck license plates they came up empty handed.
Lasburg is the kind of city where it has everything you could ever need because it’s located in the middle of nowhere. The nearest town was forty miles away, so surrounding towns aren’t close enough, nor are they populated enough to generate substantial business for ice cream trucks. No matter where officials searched, they hit a dead end. Every. Single. Time.
But these unfortunate incidents didn’t stop professors Eleanor and Diego Knox from relocating their small family to the dreadful city. They figured that as long as they were behind a locked door by the time sundown rolled around, they’d be safe. Makes sense, right?
Their youngest daughter Madeline didn’t think so, and was reluctant to go. Her older brother Rhys, was more than happy to live in Lasburg. He’d wanted to start a podcast investigating the city’s kidnappings. But Madeline knew that if the city’s secrets didn’t want to be uncovered, they wouldn’t be.
It had been three months since March, when the Knox family began making roots in Lasburg. Eleanor and Daniel were making their way up the social ladder and joined an esteemed boating club; they didn’t even own a boat. Rhys made friends rather fast at his high school and could never be found at home anymore; he had quite the social calendar. However, Madeline was his opposite: practically a loner. Her only companion was her cat, Poppy, but he didn’t really count.
So day after day, Madeline would go to school alone, sit in class alone, and was so alone, that she ate her lunch in the farthest corner of the library, in the section were the dictionaries were. No one would bother her there— not that she had anyone to bother her.
Thankfully, Madeline wouldn’t have to endure the loneliness of school any longer now that spring turned its page and summer finally began. Kids from school were swarming the boardwalk, their hands sticky from the cotton candy and slushy drinks. Madeline stood at the entrance to the commotion. There were a lot of people.
Through the crowd, she managed to find Rhys and his friends and then decided that she would try her luck with them before abandoning the boardwalk for a book and some ice tea. When Madeline approached the group, Rhys scowled. “What are you doing here?” he said. “Go away. ”
“I-I just don’t want to be alone on the boardwalk— there’s so many people. I could get lost!” Madeline exclaimed.
Rhys rolled his eyes, his patience for his little sister growing thin, ”I don’t see the problem.”
Madeline took a deep breath, trying to hold her tears in. Even her own brother didn’t want to be near her. She was truly all alone. So she span on her heel and ran through the crowd, all the way home.
It was a Tuesday night in the beginning of July, when Madeline’s only friend disappeared . Poppy was too curious for his own good, and peeked out through the door Rhys has left open on his way to a sleepover. Madeline fell to the floor after she scoured the entire house for Poppy. She could no longer hold it in, and soon her tears were flowing like a river. She had no one that cared for her. Her family didn’t even want her: her brother found her embarrassing and her parents were too absorbed in their careers that they hadn’t noticed Madeline’s solitude. Even tonight, Eleanor and Daniel were at a dinner party at the boating club, unable to provide comfort to their daughter. Not that they would have if they had been there.
So Madeline cried and cried and cried. It was all she could do. She cried until there was a singular knock on the front door. Madeline flinched, unsure of who could possibly be visiting at this time of night. What about the curfew? she thought. Who would dare to be caught outside after dark?
Madeline wiped her tears and rubbed her eyes, swollen from crying. She stood on her toes, peering through the peep-hole in the door to get a glimpse of the visitor. But the stoop was empty. A shiver ran through her spine. Its just someone playing a prank, she told herself. No need to worry. So Madeline decided that she would wait by the door to catch the culprit, if they chose to return. A few minutes passed, and it was so late that Madeline began to doze off. But a knock rang through the room and she shot up quick to answer the door. But again, no one was there.
She walked out onto the stoop and peered into the night but could not see anyone. How were they escaping so fast, and who were they? Madeline took another step forward and the door slammed shut behind her. She turned in fear, but when she tried to go back in her house the door was locked from the inside. No one else is home! How?? she thought, fear and adrenaline coursing through her. Madeline pounded on the door, hoping whoever closed it on her would have a change of heart. When she gave up is when she heard it. Her breathing doubled and her legs were paralyzed. She couldn’t run, and neither could the other unfortunate kids when they heard the dulcet tones of the ice cream truck.
Seabed
Eliana Panopio, Grade 12
The dark deep swallows whole, the ridges of white against the glistening heavens Which tumble and turn and roll over the azure cosmos.
Deeper down, blanketed by the shadows, Past trenches, seamounts, and abyssal chasms I could see the warmth.
No, it was more than warmth; it was a sensation comparable only to the sun.
Captivated, dipping down to reach the depths of the unseen, the tides tip and I plummet.
A carapace of the familiar air soon runs out of breath, and before long Apollo’s mirrored gaze can no longer pierce the aqua chambers.
Mushrooms
Bailey Gendron, Grade 9
Snowy Day
Jennifer Garajau, Grade 11
Blissful Day
Amita Klevanski, Grade 9
Lily threw her purse onto the ground and slumped down on her bed. An entire day had gone by; not even one person had remembered, not even her boyfriend, who hadn’t returned from work yet. She turned her head and stared at the calendar on the wall. The top half of the calendar was adorned with bright red and pink hearts, with the word ‘FEBRUARY’ written just below the colorful artwork. Below the word ‘FEBRUARY’, the fourteenth date was circled. Lily sighed out of exasperation before bitterly throwing a pillow at the calendar.
"No one ever remembers! Why, out of all the dates, does it have to be the fourteenth of February?!” Lily fumed irritably. She watched the pillow fly across the room and collide with the colorful paper lists. Her anger faded slowly, and she sank to the floor in melancholy.
Keys jingled at the door; her boyfriend Alex had returned from work.
Are you okay?” Alex rushed over to her. Lily sadly looked up at him.
"No one remembered; not even my coworkers did, not even you”
She was taken aback by the colossal bouquet of pale pink tulips, practically tumbling out of Alex’s hand.
"You…you actually,” Lily started.
"Honey, of course, I did! It's the most special day of the year! How could I possibly forget such a day like this?” Alex handed the bouquet to her.
“I thought roses were a bit too, standard. Especially for today. But I know how much you love tulips.”
The flowers kissed Lily’s face as she smelled them.
"You didn’t have to do this; I just wanted someone to remember my day." Lily pressed the flowers to her heart, as she walked to the kitchen, placing the flowers in an empty
"No, no, dea e favorite dress that you ow
"The black o Lily was staring at him susp
"Well, put it
Lily dressed walked side by side through
"Come on, tell me! Where are we going?” Lily laughed, and Alex simply gestured forward.
"Just wait!”
The streetlights were lined with blood-red tapestries, the sidewalk littered with pink glitter, and plastic confetti, and couples holding hands with each other.
Despite all this, Lily stared only at Alex. They arrived at the local park.
Unsurprisingly, it was devoid of people, since they had all gone to party earlier on that day. Alex took off, running through the icy grass and the festively light-adorned trees.
"Wait, where are you going? Come back!” Lily took off after him.
Small, illuminated heart ornaments hung from the trees; the lights blurred, blinded, and shook in Lily’s vision as she chased after her love. The trees got less and less decorated the further she ran into the park. At last, Lily stopped running, and was greeted with a beautiful sight. There, arranged in a cozy wooded clearing of the park, stood four violinists, under grand tapestries that were attached to some trees above them. Two chairs were placed in front of the violinists, with Alex proudly smiling at Lily.
"Oh my God! I always wanted a private performance! I can’t believe you made my wish come true!” Lily gasped, and hugged him tight; with all her strength.
"I told you I remembered! How could I forget such a special day today? Come on, let's sit down and enjoy the music.”
Every note produced from the strings of the violins soothed every one of Lily’s stresses for the day. She thought she would never be able to enjoy a regular classical concert with some annoying noise coming from the people behind her. The performance continued for about an hour before the violinists bowed politely and left Lily to be alone with Alex.
"Did you enjoy the private concert?” Alex asked her.
"I can’t put it into words; this is the best day of my life!”
"Well, it's about to get even better."
Alex reached under his chair and handed Lily a wrapped gift.
"Another gift?! You are going all out today! I just wanted someone to remember this day; I don’t know how to pay you back,” Lily breathed excitedly.
"You don’t need to pay anything; just open the gift.”
Lily undid the blue bow and opened the box. Inside were a pair of dazzling gold earrings, a matching necklace, and a matching bracelet, all laced with the shiniest black stones Lily had ever seen.
"Oh Alex, I think I’m gonna faint. I had never gotten gold jewelry as a gift before, only cheap nail polish and plastic nails. I could only dream of such a day as this. Thank you. " Lily hugged him again.
"You're always welcome, love. Nothing brings me more joy than seeing you happy. Now, I have one more thing planned, just right up that street.”
Lily couldn’t fathom how to express her appreciation to her boyfriend and ended up kissing him on the cheek. He laughed and kissed her back.
“I still can’t believe you would do all this for me! We have been together for only a year. ”
“It doesn’t matter how long I’ve known you; I just want this day to be the most special for you. ”
They left the park and headed down the street.
The two arrived at a rustic restaurant.
“Now, close your eyes, and I’ll lead you to where we need to go. ”
Lily closed her eyes, and she took Alex’s hand. He opened the door and approached the waiter.
“I am here for my 7 p.m. reservation,” Alex told the waiter.
“Right this way, ” he told him.
Alex started making an array of sharp twists and turns; the sounds of laughing couples had whizzed by Lily's ears.
They stopped, as the sounds were barely audible anymore.
"Open your eyes now. ”
Lily blinks a few times to get her focus and sees a small table at the very end of the restaurant. The bustling of the couples at the front was reduced to only some light ambiance noise.
“Alex, you got a table the furthest away from the noise? How did you do this?” "I simply made a reservation in advance."
They sat down and took their menus.
“I know I said this about a million times, but I’m so thankful for everything you ’ ve done for me. I didn’t think anyone would have recalled this day until I saw those tulips you gave me. It is a miracle to be with you. Thank you for everything you have done.” Lily finished her sentence as she placed the menu down.
Alex smiled and reached across the table to hold Lily's hand.
The waiter returned to their tables, took their orders swiftly, and got them their food in less than fifteen minutes.
As they enjoyed their meal, Lily couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by Alex's thoughtfulness. She knew she had found someone truly special and cherished every moment they spent together. The dinner was filled with laughter, deep conversations, and a connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing minute. Suddenly, the waiter returned with several other employees who worked there.
“I promise, I have one final thing planned for you, I hope this will be better than those coworkers at your job,” Alex told Lily as he nodded to the waiters. They gathered around her, and, with one tender holding a rich slice of chocolate cake, they serenaded:
“Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday dear Lily!
Happy birthday to you!”
A Glimpse
An Binh Pho, Grade 12
A Lamb Is Born
Madeline Trombly, Grade 9
A lamb is born
Listen as it sings with youth
Approach the dew-coated field
Mundane sunsets speak the truth
Bathing in the shallow pond
Irradiated by the sun she sleeps
Slowly awaiting the death that creeps
Bleating desperately her body now torn
Orange purple skies await
Recalling the warm spring days
Nonetheless a lamb is born
Roots
Kaleth Morales Boria, Grade 11
Bittersweet Vasiana Mancolli, Grade 9
Bittersweet
There’s a coffee shop down my street
It’s next to bustling palaces
But it's been dark for too long.
No one seems to remember when there weren't turbid skies swarming it.
The ‘For Sale’ sign, big, bright, bold, seems to have been there forever.
It's a weird feeling, nostalgia, dazed but thinking clearly, like frosted ice on a lake. There’s a thin blanketed layer of dust on the untouched surfaces.
The time flashes like a ray of light
The coffee shop always seemed to scintillate with a warm golden glow from the shafts of dappling sunlight, even as the shop itself is lost to time.
Each Saturday, a lorry steadily drove by the cafe, exchanging pleasantries, and delivering the catalog. The employees hastily rip the package, grateful for the welcome scent of crushed coffee grounds when it emerges from the container. Another day, another inventory restock.
In mere moments, half-awake customers would rush through, the need for a wake up call or an open public space consuming their minds, the stress getting to the most lively of people. Murmurs of the buzz of bustling chatters await them, along with routine deference.
Teak root tables, upholstered accent chairs, whatever had been thrown out had a purpose in the shop, with club chairs on casters, tea trunk cushions, umbrellas and parasols, mismatched dining chairs with varying sizes and outdated patterns scattered across the layout.
In the winter, when the brisk snow billowed, when the contrasts in temperature fogged the windows, the heat of hot chocolate radiated from everyone ’ s fingertips. We would submerge ourselves in the hot liquid, deep in thought, and our fingers traced the rims of our mugs absentmindedly.
The cacophony of sounds often enveloped the space. From the moment you walked in, you heard the ding of the soft bell, a hearty welcome. The employees called out orders. The incomprehensible murmurs of voices and laughter. The dishes clatter. The spoons clinking, The thick whirr of a frothing machine. The cling of a cash register And yet it was never too loud
The w There n the word h nosta
The w wispy reme
We w arts. Only Beau
Tessellations
Fresca Danquah, Grade 9
My Paradise
Chloe Williams, Grade 12
I want to go up there someday, I think as I lie on the soggy, dirty thing that could be called a blanket on the ground. My cousins and brothers surround me as we all collectively stare up at the light blinking at the top of the mountain adjacent. Their screams of joy as they play are distracting, but they do not deter my curiosity from the light. At that age, I thought it was a lighthouse, and it would take me years to realize that it was instead a cross. As soon as I learned of this, I begged and pleaded with my parents to take me, and from there sprouted the tradition to hike the 2-hour trek as a family every year.
Anyone who knows me is aware about my Swiss nationality. Whether or not I mean to, I talk about it a lot. My enthusiasm for sharing this with people mirrors how essential it is to who I am. But when I think about what parts of Switzerland I enjoy most, my mind always centers on the wonderful place called Gola di Lago. For as long as I can remember, the entirety of my mother’s family has gone to this cabin in Gola di Lago, Ticino for 2 weeks straight. This was my paradise.
As kids, my cousins, brothers, and I would run around the center house probably around 100 times, flapping our arms and yelling while pretending to be dragons. We would stare out from the windows in the dining room and watch the jagged streaks of lightning illuminate the landscape of mountains beyond. Have fresh, homemade pizza from the pizza oven in the already cramped kitchen. Even having to go outside to the single and tiny bathroom, whether it was pouring or if it was in the dead of night. It was in no way perfect; actually, it was quite the opposite. But that’s not what mattered to us.
Until it wasn’t anymore. For years, dormice had been gradually inserting themselves into the walls and ceilings of the cabin. At first, it was a mere annoyance, but it quickly became a nuisance that made the house practically inhabitable: eating our food, leaving excretions all over the house. Come summer 2021, the weather had been awful in the first week and with the worsening dormice problem, the adults decided we had to leave a week early. All of sudden, I realized what the situation meant. We wouldn’t be able to go back. All of those traditions were never to be repeated.
It has now been two summers since we left. I had a really hard time at first coping with the loss of such an important part of my life, but we have managed to make new traditions. We have rented another cabin in a small mountainous village called Champery; accrobranche, going out to dinner in the village, tennis in the mornings became our norm there. I have realized that while memories are crucial to my identity, the person that I am becoming is just as essential. One thing I am certain of though: I will always continue to approach experiences with the same hope and abundance of dreams as that little girl looking at the light in the distance, in her favorite place in the world.
dog in the night
Jasper Fritz, Grade 12
New Year’s Eve
Anya Geist, Grade 12
We sit around the table as night falls
Champagne and Thai food, sparkling apple cider
Our Christmas tree is still up (it’s not Christmas anymore) And outside the world is hidden
Swaddled in a mess of chilling December wind
Predictions for 2024 swirl around Biden vs. Trump who will it be?
(We all think Biden—60/40)
Recession? Inflation? Pandemic? War?
Dan, stop being so negative, we say
But we laugh anyway, sip on decaf coffee, take a bite of brownie
The hours tick away, soon it’s near eleven
We are yawning but won’t sleep—the new year is so close
Cocooned in restless darkness, we can’t wait
Because tomorrow will be, must be more different Than yesterday was from today
In ten months, though, who will remember
Everything we said tonight? Caught up in Dying computers and family fights and groceries and errands
The weeks will blur, mundane—everything is normal
No spectacle, just cars needing gas every couple of weeks
So now the lime microwave clock shines 11:30 Every sixty seconds another minute falls away
We barrel forward in the darkness
Tracing dreams on inky infinity
But when morning comes, it’s like they were never there
Madeline Trombly, Grade 9
I’d Melt for You
Amita Klevanski, Grade 9
Another blackout in New York City had dimmed all of the light in the large metropolis. Maria was pacing back and forth around her apartment unit, hoping to find some source of light in her living room. Her hands bumped into two objects: a small, plain, white wax candle, and a lighter. Wanting to pass the long, dark night quickly, she grabbed the objects, climbed into her bed, and placed the candle on her bedside table. Her finger rolled the spark wheel several times, not quite getting the light she desperately wanted.
“Come on, the one time I need you, you don’t want to work, what is this?” Maria muttered under her breath as she fumbled with the igniter.
She brought the lighter closer to her ear and gave a small shake. It seemed to be almost empty of fluid. She rolled the wheel a few times more, her frustration growing with every failed attempt. Finally, the wheel gave a promising spark, a wisp of grey smoke, and out came a blazing, scarlet flame. Maria gave a meager cheer of triumph and lowered the fire to the candle. The small fire burned the fresh, white taper to a blackened crisp. Maria watched as the meager, but dynamic flame dissolve the shadows of her room. Her eyes stayed fixed on the brilliant teardrop of orange, the one that brought life to the deathly atmosphere. The candle continued to burn all night, the lone clock on the wall ticked as the wax dripped down from the wick.
Maria awakened the next morning with a radiating ache in her skull. She turned to the candle, still burning.
“Ah, What is wrong with my head? Why does it hurt so bad? I probably didn’t get enough sleep…”
Maria's quiet thoughts barely interrupted the buzzing white noise, deep in her brain.
Her head felt a little bit lighter to her as she walked to her high school. As she went through her mundane school routine, the agony spread down to her neck, shoulders, stomach, arms, and even legs. Exasperated, irritated students pushed and shoved each other as they made their way to their rooms, but Maria, leaning against a locker, was unbothered by any activity. She stared at the cold, tile floor of her school. The simple, little design of alternating tan curls and lines, melted into a swirling mess before her eyes. Feeling a sense of fear mixed with dread, she ran to the house of her beloved Michael after the school day has ended. Her limbs were starting to go numb, and her skin sagged a bit from her flesh. She told him about her pain and the candle that she lit the night before. Feeling confused and distressed, Michael decided to search for her peculiar symptoms on his laptop. Only one search result came up: a small article about a cursed candle. They read it together and went silent as they finished the blog.
“Do you think-” began Maria.
“Check if the writer is still….” said Michael.
Maria searched for the name of the author, and another article showed up and stated that she had disappeared without a trace. Police reported her body missing.
Fish Tessellation
Patience Munyiri, Grade 9
Cocoa
Kaleth Morales Boria, Grade 11
Pink Bubbles
Charlie Morrow, Grade 9
He hates his job, every day he wakes up at 5 and goes to sleep at 12 just to keep up with it. He works at a dusty old 7 Eleven. He is pretty sure that there are more rats in the store than sales they've gotten in the past month. On the drive home he remembered that the store inspection was tomorrow, he swore at himself, he knew he would fail. Everyday when he comes home he takes a bath to relax. But today, today was special. He was going to have a bubble bath. He knew he didn't have any so he went back outside to his car and drove to the grocery store to get some. The only bottle they had was pink, he hated pink, oh well it would have to do. He drove home and went up to his bathroom. He got the water running and waited till the tub was full, he got undressed and then he put the bubble liquid in the tub. The bubblegum pink liquid swirled around in the tub until it got mixed in, and big pink bubbles started to form. He got in the tub with a sigh of relaxation, it was nice to take a moment to dissolve into the bathwater and forget all about his problems. It felt like he was floating in an ocean of pink bubbles, he enjoyed it. BAM! His arms bang against the side of the tub as he wakes. He must have fallen asleep, he yells a few swears as he rubs his wrists. By now the water is cold, how long was he asleep for? He checks his watch, it's 2:41. He swore again, but this time at himself, he was going to be miserable in the morning with only 3 hours of sleep. He starts to drain the tub, he watches as the water level slowly lowers. For some reason the bubbles don't go down the drain, they just stay at the bottom of the tub. He picks up a clump of pink bubbles and tosses it across the tub in anger, of course the one day where he fell asleep in the bath is the day before his store inspection which he knew he was going to fail. He gets up with a sigh and seps out of the tub, but his foot slips on the bubbles. BAM! That's the second time he has heard that noise tonight. He reaches for his towel, but wait, he is still in the tub. He starts to feel a throbbing pain in the back of his head. He reaches his hand back and feels where it hurts, when he brings his hand back there is a red stain on his hand.
Paint maybe? He tries to get out of the tub again, but yet again BAM! Why does he keep hearing that sound? He doesn’t know. Maybe the neighbors are having a party. He reaches for his towel, but again he is still in the tub. He looks down at where his legs are. He notices that more of that red paint is flowing into the tub from behind him. It is staining the bubbles red. What's happening? He turns behind him to see if the paint is coming from the faucet. Nope, wait, it's still coming from behind him. He looks down at his hand and sees the red stain again. Then he remembers the pain in the back of his head, wait, the pain is gone. He reaches his hand to the back of his head, his hand comes back covered in red paint. No, not red paint, blood. Well, is it? He doesn't know, he doesn't care. He remembers how well comfortable the hot water was, how good it made him feel. He fills up the tub again, now the water is stained dark red, why not pink? He remembers putting in pink bubbles. Oh well, he doesn't care. Red bubbles, pink bubbles, still bubbles. He slowly drifts off to sleep, maybe he won't have to go to work tomorrow after all.
Sasuke and Itachi
Marion Zziwa, Grade 9
Applebee’s
Natalie Boucher, Grade 12
Reminiscent of the past
And a tribute to what was
And what never was
And also, just maybe, what could be
It is an American dream
Empty
Dated
Sparse
But now and again
Warmth
And a special ingredientLOVE
Radiates from the Wonton Tacos
Wonton Tacos
What else could be so unique to this country?
State Route 107
Anya Geist, Grade 12
Driving through rambling New Hampshire roads
In the chilly autumn night:
Moon overhead, ghostly face in the sky
Obscured by wisps of smoky cloud
Fog rises from the road
Dancing in the headlights
And cars in the distance move like spectors
Red and white haze from another world
The yellow center line shimmers:
Racing away down black pavement
It escorts us, alive and moving
As we barrel into the oncoming dark
What will come, who can say:
Wind whistles outside
With every breeze it peels back
The boundary between this world and the next
Home is Where the Heart is
Jason Murillo, Grade 12
Worcester was my home
The Heart of the Commonwealth
Was the heart of all these memories
I’ve gained growing up
Will any other place
Compare to the riches
Found in this hilly city?
I’m unsure if there’s any other city
Where you can pass by two Dunkin’s
Maybe even three
On your way to school
I’m unsure if you can find streets that have Chinese, Italian, Latino, African, and Vietnamese
Restaurants all in one place
Is there a city where I’ll be awoken
By my Puerto Rican neighbor blasting reggaeton?
Or by my Vietnamese neighbors singing karaoke?
Or by the partying college students
With police knocking on their door
Because they couldn’t have waited
Just a few more years?
No.
Worcester is my home
The Home of the Smiley Face
The Home of the Valentine’s Card
The Home of the Liquid Propelled Rocket
The Home of the Monkey Wrench
And it will always be my home.
Staff Members!
Editors-in-Chief
Madeline Trombly and Shannon Dennehy
Magazine Cover
Hero Micher
Magazine Layout
Vy Duong
Editors
Jenny Huynh
Vasiana Mancolli
Natasha Nderitu
Iyad Rhaouat
Mrs. Er Young
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