Beyond the Horizon: Volume 3 | 2025

Volume 3 2025

A Hope for Purpose

Poets write about romantic love stories, childhood memories

The journey of aging, finding the light within the darkness

Touching each reader’s heart with their words

Conveying feelings that one’s heart didn’t know was possible Painting a dream or a hopeful future

Here I am, Head buried into my hands, struggling to write something that speaks to me

Yes, I can write poems Poems that mean a lot to other people, striking them with feeling like no other

Yet, I never resonate with them It simply feels like a jumble of words That somehow touches the hearts of others, but never mine

Even so, my mind is flooded with ideas

Like a ship in the sea during a great thunderstorm

Searching for land and a promise for tomorrow, never resting until an answer is found

Until a promise or reassurance was spoken Nevertheless, nothing lights a spark of feeling within me

But maybe my words weren’t to motivate me

Perhaps it was meant to help others find a better future or help To help others feel the things they could never explain and to bring light to those who never saw it Whatever it was meant to do, I hope this poem finds its purpose

Audrey Cheang 8th

Grade

Table of Contents: Writing

Table of Contents: Writing

Table of Contents: Art

Table of Contents: Art

Lucy Panfiglio-Kekuewa | 7th Grade

"Would You Like Cake?"

“Would you like a slice of cake?” A woman near the counter asked me with a polite expression, the wood floorboards creaking under our combined weight. I'm sure she was a long-distance relative. I shook my head.

This was my birthday party, which was supposed to be about me, at my house. But it didn't seem like that. Everyone was more focused on someone else. I felt invisible as I peered over the shoulder of a little boy standing before me. I was being shoved around like batter in a mixer. I felt like no one knew it was my birthday; the entire reason why I threw this party was to celebrate the day I was born. The person in the middle was a girl, a younger female with brunette hair in symmetrical pigtails. It was painful to watch all the attention go to her in the middle. All she did was flutter her eyelashes and twirl around to show off the speckles of glitter on her dress. A mixture of jealousy and rage crossed my mind, causing my body to heat up. I felt like I was in a scorching oven, whilst the agonizing minutes flew past as I was consumed by the blazing warmth. It was pathetic.

I thought for a while: Would it always be like this? I questioned as I watched her mindlessly. I waited a couple of seconds before walking back to the cake lady–a mystery relative with a distant connection–at the table. She watched me with a sympathetic smile. “I understand how you feel,” she commented and patted my back, and then offered me a paper plate with a messily cut slice. I conversed with her for a while before the crowd started for the cake. A bittersweet feeling occurred to me. I was happy that I had someone to talk to who understood me, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. Staring at the lady wouldn’t help, so I sat at an empty table to enjoy the now-cold piece of cake. It tasted nice, but dry, like those store-bought baking packets I see. Eating cake wouldn't help my emotions though. I rose from my seat and discarded the plate in the garbage. I watched the adults converse while the kids ran around and enjoyed themselves. One adult, possibly one of my mother's friends, gave me a sidelong glance and started talking to another woman. The words were muffled and I could only interpret a fragment of a sentence, “She’s a loner.”

I didn’t believe that. I had the confidence to talk to others, but I

just didn’t want to talk to people who judged me. But I didn’t say that out loud. The more hours that passed, the more people left. I stared out the window while watching my mother bid farewell to the girl with a sparkly pink dress and her mom. A sudden tap on my shoulder scared me out of the trance and I turned around to see the cake lady. She held up the last piece of cake on a paper plate like before and offered it to me.

“Would you like a slice of cake? No one wanted it, and it's your birthday after all.” She smiled and placed it down on the table. “Sometimes people won’t acknowledge you, but don’t be sad about it.” She then slid a plastic fork over beside my plate. “Enjoy being a kid while you still can. Trust me, I was once like this a really long time ago.” The woman paused before continuing, “There will be someone special who will enter your life, and you’ll never feel lonely ever again.” I waited for her to leave and finished the cake alone. I never saw that lady again. I felt better about myself and managed to find something else to do instead of watch and sulk in the dark as others got more acknowledgement than me. Hopefully, I will find that special someone soon, just like the woman said.

Kilinahe Yoon | 8th Grade

“A Sense of Belonging"

A sense of belonging is a funny thing

Waiting

Searching for something to feel, The sense of belonging is hard to find Especially when people make you feel different from everyone else

The words they say pierce your heart, The looks others give you sever your spirit.

When you finally feel like you belong and you're finally smiling, People find something to tear you down.

Fading away day by day, You tend to isolate yourself, The feeling of hopelessness eats at you.

Searching for a path to follow

Others talking behind your back

As time goes on, you start to guard your heart So much to the point you don’t let anyone get close to you.

Still trying to find that feeling and sense of belonging.

How do people make it look easy?

Are they happy or just good at deceiving? I just want a little bit of that feeling, 'Cause every now and then I admit I just want to be just me

As crazy as this sounds I’ve yet to be truly found

So I cover up my flaws

But the more I do The more they appear

Even if it sounds like a fantasy I still look in the mirror and hope The hope that keeps me going

The hope that lets me think one day I will feel that feeling

But I guess I’ll have to wait and see If everything will just be and when they look They will finally see me

And I will finally have that feeling

Chan 8th Grade

Shiho

Lily Yasuda | 6th Grade

“An Unexpected Friendship”

It was August 6, 2024, and the end of my second day at Kaimuki Middle. It was a long and exhausting day. I had all six periods and there was a two-hour long assembly that felt like it would never end. It was finally 2:15; time to go home.

“Have a nice day!” My math teacher announced. I slowly made my way through the hall to the 6th grade pick-up area. I was in a traffic jam, just trying to get to my “off ramp” down the hall. Everyone was moving so slowly. I was heading towards a bench to sit and wait for my parents, when suddenly I realized I didn’t have anyone to wait with or talk to, knowing that I wouldn’t be picked up for a while. I was worried about being all alone. I looked around and saw the groups of friends around the many benches. They were happy like packs of dogs eating treats and having fun. I wish I had a friend group like that, I thought. I walked around the giant tree in the middle of the C Building courtyard. Since my friend Emma was nowhere to be found, I decided to stand instead of sitting on the bench like I usually did. I aimlessly wandered toward a blue wall with some chipped off paint that was still close to the parking lot, so I could easily see all the cars that passed by. The only thing was, there were no trees or shade to protect me from the blazing sun. With no one to talk to, I felt all alone and silently waited in the sun for my parents to come, watching as many other students jumped into their cars.

A few minutes later, I noticed another girl standing on the other side of me, a fair distance away. She had short hair, a nice green backpack with a panda on it, and she looked friendly. It looked as if she wanted to talk to me, but she didn’t. Maybe she is shy, I thought. I could feel an opportunity coming along. So, I took a deep breath, stepped closer, and introduced myself to her.

“Hi! I’m Lily,” I finally said in the same light tone as before. “What is your name?”

“I’m Rowan,” she replied with a smile. Then, there was an awkward silence between us.

The words “first impressions” came to my mind. I knew I needed to say something. How could I be both kind and curious about her, but at the same time not awkward? I wondered. I pondered about what to say next. Thoughts like, “Don’t be awkward” and “Let her know you want to know more about her” raced through my head. How about a compliment? I suggested to myself. Eventually I said, “I like your backpack! The panda is cute. What elementary school did you go to?” I asked.

“Thanks! I went to Clarendon Elementary School,” she said. “But you probably don’t know where that is because it is in San Francisco,” she added.

She said it so fast and quietly so I just replied, “Yeah.” I didn’t want to ask her to repeat what she said. A few seconds later, I stopped and realized that she was not from here! “Wait,” I said. “You’re from San Francisco?” I asked, still stunned. We chatted for a while, both waiting for our cars. I found out we had a lot in common! For example, we talked about how we both liked swimming, we are both on a swim team, and we have younger brothers. We also compared schedules and found we had English Language Arts, math, science, and homeroom together.

“That means that on even schedules we have all classes together,” Rowan pointed out. Time passed quickly as we chatted, smiled, and laughed. “My car is here. It was nice talking to you!” Rowan said as she clambered into her dark blue car. “So, see you tomorrow?”

“Yup! See you!” I replied. I guess that went sort of well! Tomorrow maybe I will introduce her to Emma, I thought. Soon after, my mom’s white van pulled up, and I happily hopped in. I could taste the sweetness of friendship just around the corner.

“How was your day?” my mom asked.

“It was great,” I replied while looking out the window of my car, thinking about what had happened. Maybe I could hang out with Rowan this school year. I had lots of fun talking to her. I was glad that I stepped out of my comfort zone and talked to that girl standing near me. It was worth it!

Rowan Wang | 6th Grade

“A Middle School Friendship"

“Have a nice day!” My teacher announced the key phrase that signaled the end of class. By now, I knew that you’re supposed to pack up and head to the next class. Usually I had no problem, but in this case I found myself caught in a huge blob of students. I pushed my way through the crowd, eager to breathe some fresh air outside.

It was August 6th, the second day of school. I didn’t know anyone yet because I had moved here from San Francisco only one month ago. I never remembered feeling so alone. I didn’t have anyone to connect with, which made school go on forever. I wished I had someone to talk to, but I was too scared to introduce myself to someone I didn’t know. Whenever I tried, I never knew what to say. I always stuttered or froze and made myself embarrassed. I wished my friends were here with me. They were much better at introducing themselves compared to me.

Once I made it outside, I plodded slowly across the courtyard to the grassy field, passing many groups of students talking to each other. There was a huge tree in the middle of the courtyard, with leaves that danced in the breeze.

Out on the field, there were no trees to block the scorching sun. Dry grass crunched beneath my feet as I wiped sweat off my forehead. I wandered around, trying to find a place where I could easily catch sight of the car coming to pick me up.

I finally found an almost perfect spot by a low wall. The wall was painted light blue and some of the paint was chipped off. I squinted through the glaring light and sighed when I saw the line of cars that seemed to go on and on.

Bored, I ran my fingertips along the rough wall until I heard the sound of two voices nearby. One was soft and slightly tired, while the other was kind and curious. Listening closely, I realized that they were both girls.

Maybe I could introduce myself and hope they include me, I thought. They seem friendly but I don’t want to interrupt their

conversation. I definitely don’t want to be rude. I pondered what the best way to try and become friends.

All of a sudden, one girl interrupted my train of thoughts with an exuberant exclamation. “Hello, my name is Lily! What is your name?”

Startled, I turned around to face Lily. She had her shoulder length hair tied into a ponytail and she was wearing wire-rimmed glasses.

“Umm, my name is Rowan. What team are you on?” I replied hesitantly.

“Team Na Hoku,” Lily answered.

“Oh! Me too!” I gasped, surprised.

We started conversing, chatting about hobbies, food, and family, but our main topic was school. I realized that Lily also had a younger brother and was on a swim team like me. I couldn’t believe how similar we were.

Then we came to the subject of pickup and how it takes such a long, long time. “My mom said she would be here at 2:25, but it’s 2:40, and she isn’t here!” Lily exclaimed.

That reminded me to scan the line of cars. There! I spotted the dark blue car coming to pick me up at the back of the queue. “I have to go,” I told Lily. “It was nice to meet you! Bye!”

She waved goodbye to me before I started heading away. Then I heard her ask, “Do you want to be friends?” I turned around and nodded cheerfully before dashing to the car.

Under my breath I whispered to myself, “Hopefully I can hang out with you tomorrow.”

When I got into the car, my mom asked me, “How was your day?”

“Good,” I replied, lost in my thoughts about Lily. My mom sighed. I pretended not to notice her and kept wondering: Was Lily being genuine? Would I be able to hang out with her other friends?

These questions raced through my mind during dinner, when I was showering, and before bed. Just before I fell asleep, I wondered, “Would I ever make friends at Kaimuki Middle?”

The next morning, I woke up late. I zipped around the house, packing my bag, eating breakfast, and helping Jasper, my sevenyear-old brother, get ready as well. We should have been driving to school by 7:30, but it was already 7:40 and we hadn’t even put on our shoes.

“Hurry up!” I yelled at Jasper while cramming on my shoes. He was frantically stuffing his lunch into his dinosaur backpack. “We’re already late! Can you move a bit faster?”

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” my brother yelled right back. “And you should say ‘please.’” Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he stomped to the door, where I was.

“Well, we’re already late! Next time, can you please move a bit faster?” I sighed, exasperated.

“I was hurrying as fast as I could,” Jasper told me as he walked out the door. “I wanna meet with my new friend.”

I froze as still as a statue, remembering that I wanted to try and meet with Lily. My palms began to sweat, and my pulse raced.

“Are you okay?” my mom asked as she passed by me.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, as I stood at the doorstep, before trudging to the car.

While driving to school, Jasper kept pestering me. “Rowan,” he whined. “Can we play a game?”

I shook my head and scowled at him, annoyed. I was planning what I was going to say to Lily and her friends. What if Lily’s friends didn’t like me? I pondered. What if I embarrass myself? The constant stream of “what ifs” made my head hurt as I tried to find as many solutions as I could.

Before I knew it, I arrived at school. I scanned the designated sixth grade area trying to catch sight of Lily. But, it was so crowded and noisy I couldn’t find her. I slowly wandered in circles around the courtyard, glancing left and right.

Then I heard someone yell over the loud din, “Rowan! Over here!” It was Lily!

My heart leapt with excitement while still beating rapidly with

worry. I whirled around searching for her until I finally spotted Lily by a table, near other girls. As I darted to her, I exclaimed, “Hi, Lily!”

We walked together, and as we sat down on a bench, I noticed another girl. I was pretty sure she was Lily’s friend because she silently mouthed something like, “Who is she?” to Lily. I wondered if she would be okay if I hung out with her and Lily.

“Oh! Rowan, this is Emma. Emma, this is Rowan,” Lily introduced us to each other.

“Hi, Emma,” I greeted her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“She was wondering if she could hang out with us since she doesn’t have any friends,” Lily explained, since Emma still gave her a questioning look.

“Sure, she can hang out with us,” Emma answered immediately with a smile. I sighed quietly with relief, and my heartbeat slowed.

For a few minutes before school we got to know each other better. Emma and Lily included me and made sure I understood everything they were talking about. I felt grateful that they put in all the effort to make me feel valued.

Emma shared that she was on Team Na Poʻokela and she loved to keep things neat and organized.

Suddenly the air horn blared, indicating that it was time to go to my homeroom. I covered my ears, and started on my way with my spirits high. I realized that I wouldn’t be alone anymore. I had two new friends that I could hang out with at Kaimuki Middle School. This is going to be a great year.

Sydney Wada | 6th Grade

“Writer's Block"

My forehead pressed firmly onto my wooden desk, my shoulders squared and back arched. My eyes could only see darkness, but the endless void was far better than the blinding light of my open Chromebook. The cursor on a blank page was blinking like a strobe light, urging me to feed it the words of a marvelous story. But I had nothing. No marvelous stories. No concepts. Just a blank page and a flickering cursor.

I arose from my chair, head laid back. With my hands clenching the armrests, I glared at the empty nothingness on my screen. My eyebrows furrowed together with frustration as a frown carved into my face.

“How?” I sighed, mainly to myself and a bit to the universe.

The silent humming of my ceiling fan was distant and my brain was as empty as my pages. My grasp of the armrests loosened as I shook myself awake, forcing myself to create. I made zero progress whatsoever so it was no time for dozing off. But whenever I tried to brainstorm ideas, all I could think of was quitting or sleeping.

I checked the corner of my desolate page and frowned. It read 9:53 p.m. I felt as if I was in a mere dream, wasting away while the clock ticked and ticked but remained frozen in place. The silver glow of moonlight lightly illuminated my dull room.

I should be asleep by now, I thought. I should’ve just taken the easy route.

I stared into the deep darkness up above, with flecks of stars dotting it. The blackness of the sky made clouds fluoresce like the pathetic pale pages on my screen. My eyes drooped, the moon nearly lulling me to a dreamless sleep and I still had nothing. I was drawing a blank. I had failed before any editors could even judge my work.

My frown deepened and I buried my face in my hands. How? That was the question I kept asking myself that night. How could I have failed at such a thing when writing was what I loved to do? How can I be stuck when writing lets me create amazing, unique stories on paper and pages? How is this possible when writing helped me turn all of my pain and emotions into words and plots that brought me joy?

I closed my Chromebook and crawled into bed. The soft mattress cushioned my exhausted body, and I quickly fell asleep. But, it wasn’t an empty sleep like before. I actually had a dream. I dreamed I was in my room, sitting at my desk, typing furiously on my Chromebook. The once empty page was now filled to the brim with words. What those words were exactly, I never quite knew exactly. But somehow, I knew I wrote about my writer’s block.

Madison Villanueva | 8th Grade

Ella Cordova | 8th Grade

“If Only"

Although the joy of a win is hard to forget, Nothing is more intense than the burden of a loss. Every little mess-up is now your biggest regret, Overwhelming thoughts cause everything else to pause. The constant thought of “if only” keeps you lying awake at night, A silent battle that you struggle to fight.

If only you had made that last shot, The answer to your grief that you desperately sought. A prison of overthinking you never escape, The hole in your heart still bleeds through the tape.

Lifted by the dreams you’ll always chase, Despite the struggles that you may face, One bad game doesn’t define you, That drive and passion pushing you through. That fire in your heart leads you to compete, Building from your failures makes you an athlete.

If only this, if only that; Your love for the game outweighs a bad stat. Although it takes all of your might, The never-ending struggle for success is worth the fight.

Lin | 8th Grade

Ziheng

Venessa Cho | 7th Grade

“Forgiving Myself"

I want to forgive myself, for pressuring myself, to get the highest grade possible, and to be the greatest out of my classmates.

I want to forgive myself, even though when I was younger, I was more gullible and trusted the internet, believing that the more achievements I got the more worthy I would be, not realizing what it would do to me.

I want to forgive myself, although I didn’t understand the consequences of doing this and how maybe if I didn’t start this, I could have been happier, and less stressed rather than trying to achieve perfection.

I want to forgive myself, When I start realizing my actions, and how it changed me, To become this super hard and strict person on myself, pushing myself to my limits like I’m hanging on with one hand on a cliffside, With self-imposed pressure, lifting off fingers, one by one.

I want to forgive myself, as I try to break the need to be at the top, and begin accepting the score I earned, and how it’s alright, since it won’t determine my future or my worth

I want to forgive myself, as I figured out that scores and letters, don’t matter at all in the future, The future isn’t all based on scores, achievements, and images.

The actual future is based on so much more, kindness, discovering and creating new relationships, and many others that are included in the future. Yes, there will be lots of struggles and horrible things throughout, but it’s necessary to acquire all the great and amazing things, That could possibly happen in the future.

I want to forgive myself, And I want to be proud of myself For being the wonderful person I already am.

Mia Lassoff | 7th Grade

Olivia Liu 8th Grade

Zhi Yi Chen 8th Grade

Emalia Benton | 6th Grade

Chloe Hall | 8th Grade

Quinn Quaccia | 7th Grade

Chloe Liu | 7th Grade

Suddenly ashamed Suddenly afraid

Everything starts spinning

The world begins to fade

Thoughts begin to run wild “Hide,” they whisper

Staring in the mirror, only one thought lingers . . . “Am I beautiful?”

Then, suddenly, you’re too nervous to be seen Suddenly, you’re too anxious to leave the house Suddenly, you’re falling…

Knock knock Wake up

Everything about you is beautiful

You’re beautiful And not just to be nice

You're beautiful like

The delicate snowfall from the moonlit sky Aurora lights dancing underneath the glistening stars, The wind waves goodbye as the snow disperses into the long night

You're beautiful like the sakura blossoms dancing in the wind

Twisting and turning as their brilliant colors fly across the sky in a waltz

You're beautiful like the person whose eyes light up whenever they're happy Happiness gleaming in their eye as their world fades

You’re beautiful

There is no definition of beautiful

You are simply beautiful And beautiful, is simply beautiful

Ian Taira | 8th Grade

Sinfonia for Solo Saxophone and Orchestra”

Full score and MIDI realization:

Ian Taira | 8th Grade

“Concerto in G Minor for Violin and Orchestra”

Full score and MIDI realization:

Aria Natanauan | 7th Grade

"Forgiving Myself"

To myself, I realized that this entire time I never thought once About forgiving myself

All the cruel and dark things that I’ve done I’ve only lived for 13 years And yet I have done countless things That can’t be forgiven

I remember all the times I crushed the ones I loved Whether it was physically or kept to myself I remember every single time I did it

The times when I did the most unforgettable things Affecting everyone around me Was I that stupid to think, It was all a joke?

I ended up breaking or losing things Due to my lack of responsibility and care I still carry some of those memories up to this day Maybe because I thought it would be a fun story to tell After a few years had passed

The biggest thing that I feel can never be forgiven, Is the negative side of my personality I remember being that sweet, kind-hearted girl all those years ago I thought that the word ‘stupid’ was the worst word to ever be said

Yet here I am, finding that version of me slowly fading away Now seeing curse words on the level ‘it’s no big deal’ Rather than one of the forbidden words

Sarcasm and cruelty came over me, Along with temper and lack of care

All of which created a structure Making up the brutal piece Of me today

As I look back at it all, I realized that I’m not ready Just because it’s in the past, Doesn’t mean I can let it all go I needed to actually care about all the things that I did Feel like it’s actually all okay, Feel the love and light in my heart

So for now I will leave myself to continue changing With a few reminders of my own I will soon feel the need To forgive myself

Amaya Araujo 6th Grade

Mia Lu 8th Grade

Rya Nakamura | 7th Grade

Ella Lam | 6th Grade

Kadyn Reyes | 7th Grade

Layna Tanizaki | 7th Grade

Kacie Kodani 8th Grade

| 8th Grade

滝

Zora Maurer 7th Grade

"Meteor Shower"

As everyone gathered on the hill, the night sky was a mixture of midnight blues and purples. I leaned back, my heart racing. Tonight is the night when I will finally do it. When the first streak lit up the sky, a collective gasp rose from the crowd.

“Wish!” I hear Laya, my best friend, shout. I close my eyes, thinking of what I want most: courage. More meteors fall from the sky, each gleaming beautifully. I feel a rush of hope as I watch each ball of light. I think of everything I want to change: my fears and hesitations. I look up to the sky again and see an exceptionally bright meteor tear through the sky. My eyes widen. This one is it.

“I want to be brave enough to tell him,” I quietly wish out loud. Layla nudges me teasingly. “Who? The boy with the guitar?” I smile as I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I look to the right. Sitting a few feet away, a boy was laughing with his friends, unaware of my feelings. As the last meteor flew across the sky, I felt a shift. It was as if I was getting encouragement. I stand up, my heart pounding.

“Hey, Lucas!” I called, surprising myself. The laughter from the group faded, and his gaze met mine. My heart beats louder.

“Can we talk?” I say.

With each step I take closer to him, my heart beats more and more. Tonight wasn’t about wishing, it was about taking that step. The sky glimmered above as I started to say my first word.

As I lay on the soft, green grass, warmth from the sun wraps around my body. Beside me, a mysterious boy gazed at me with eyes full of love, and his fingers gently intertwined with mine. A slight breeze whispered through the air, rustling the leaves above. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in slow, soothing circles, and I couldn’t help but smile. We shared laughs and talked for what felt like an eternity. It was just the two of us, in our own little world. A place where time stood still and nothing else mattered. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet, and his mesmerizing, dark brown eyes met mine, distracting me, and playfully reached out his hand to tag me. Before I could react, he swiftly took off down the never-ending grassy fields. My heart fluttered from his touch, but I hurried to chase after him. As I sprinted down the hill, I was stopped. My shoe caught on a rock, hidden in the tall blades of grass, sending me crashing onto the soft soil. My palms slapped the ground, catching myself with my two hands. The world around me turned silent, and everything faded to black.

I opened my eyes in panic, my heart racing as my bedroom suddenly came into focus, the dream slipping away. I sank deeper into my bed, covering myself with my blankets, and I couldn’t help but wish for just a few more moments with him. My perfect boy, now gone, left me with only the memories of a love that felt almost real.

Anya Ayau | 8th Grade

"The Unrequited Crush"

I don’t know why I feel this way. It’s not like he’s a big deal or anything. He’s just a guy. But is he? I see him every day; it’s not like he’s some hallway crush or someone you see online that you’ll never talk to. I mean, sometimes I can build up the courage to go and speak to him. He is so sweet, and when I see him smile across the way, I feel butterflies in my stomach. But I don’t want to seem weird. Everyone will think I’m some stalker if I stare, so I keep my feelings to myself. I tried telling my friends, but all they did was laugh or say, “Everyone has liked him; try to be a more original girl.”

It’s not like I’m trying to be stereotypical; it’s just how I feel. It’s not my fault . . . right? Is it fair to hold people responsible for their feelings? Emotions that develop over time, like love, hatred, fear, pain, and acceptance. It’s time for me to move on. It’s time for me to move on.

I’ve tried to move on so many times. I’ve tried talking to other people, pretending to like other people, but nothing has erased the thought of him in the back of my mind. Memories of us when we were younger, hanging out every day, having playdates, telling each other about our day even though we saw each other all day. I don’t know; whenever I see him, my mind goes through a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts: What if he thinks I’m some weirdo? What if I look dumb right now? Does he even like girls?

As my friends call for my attention, I snap back into reality. I shake my head to clear my endless thoughts. I look around, taking in the view of the school's courtyard, hearing the “athletic” boys yelling at each other while playing football or some other sport. Then, I turn to see the girls eating with their different friend groups at the lunch tables, giggling as they gossip about the newest rumor that comes out. I turn to my friends and continue with their conversation. I push down the urge to bring him up again, the memory of his smile and laughter lingers in the depths of my mind. These feelings will fade . . . eventually.

Audrey Cheang | 8th Grade

"My Invisible Heart"

I’m glad we’re close friends, but, As her arms wrap around your waist You laugh, your heads getting close. You aren’t dating, but it stings Knowing it will never be the same for me, and that I could never be with you.

Whenever her name is called, You get excited, and in awe when she speaks Eyes always searching for her, Cuddling up to her when she’s around. You pretend I’m not even there, Seeing through my desperate attempts. You look at her so lovingly, If only you felt the same with me.

One day we were all together

Having fun, when it happened. We all know it wasn’t an accident That you just wanted to kiss her, So you did.

I try to talk to you, try to be your friend But I’m unnoticed, as she’s the only one you see. I try to joke around, brush the harsh feeling off. But inside, I know that you will never love me. Inside, I know that I am not enough, That my pathetic efforts will never get to you, And that my heart will always be invisible.

Anonymous | 8th Grade "Hollow Waiting"

In the depths of her mind, hope flickers like a dying candle

Its flame casts a waning luminescence over the stygian chamber

A fragile glow in the encroaching dark: a mortal blaze of lost love doomed to one day extinguish

She fantasized of love often once, Love like the tales inscribed on worn parchment, inked in gilded storybooks

Where each of her flaws would be nothing more than a mere brushstroke on paper

Where mistakes dissolved into soft laughter and every tear kissed away with compassion

Yet in her own story, she remains trapped in an endless corridor

Chasing after a door that never seems to get closer

The once pristine pages of her own tale creasing and crumpling

Yellowing from ages of waiting, damaged by years of neglect

Always waiting for the fall, the declaration, a chance that would never come

So instead she locks her heart away:

Each key forged with resentment, each lock with bitterness

A fortress of stone and solitude built on lonely nights where forgotten dreams gather dust in an inescapable prison

Late into the dark, she navigates these corridors of loneliness

Each footstep reverberates unspoken words, locked away within cells of stone

Each heartbeat remains a solemn reminder that she is always the one left waiting

The one who fears to fall, the one who tucks her love behind closed doors

And so she remains, the world fading to gray, a spectator to her own life

The delicate threads of her longing fraying, the door forever locked, the light forever dim, Lost to the shadows of a dream she no longer dared to chase

Renee Lee | 8th Grade

“Enchanted (A Reverse Poem)”

She was cursed

The maiden knew her life was under a spell of love

However, at that moment

She realized it was true

When she met the prince

Her thoughts were stolen

She felt distressed

His love was genuine, words truthful

Her heart would be lying if it said He was harsh and small-minded

How pretty the maiden looked, Yet, the only thing he saw was her personality and laugh.

They were her best features,

Their story could last forever

Nobody felt that Their tongues were tied

The spell said he must be the love of her life.

She’ll never call him a stranger

Lina Herzog | 8th Grade

"The Essence of Undoing"

it’s ironic how passion is destroyed by the very thing it's made of hatred seeps in, a cruel ending eroding its fragile beauty

like how love can be undone by the same hands that once held it tenderly, with promise and care now clenched in anger and indifference or how fire, born a spark can be smothered by its own ashes starved of oxygen, it flickers out left a desperate ember

even words, sharp as knives can cut deep, yet be hollow spoken in a heat of rage can shatter trust, like delicate glass

in the end, it's an intricate blend that combines creation and destruction where the essence is its own undoing

Minh Phan

8th Grade

8th Grade

Travis Nagata

Another bottle of expensive wine slams onto the bar counter. Old beer belly shouts at me to get another one, yelling at me, drunk and doozy. Scowling at his tearing leopard print jacket, undersized sunglasses, and unkempt goatee, I pivot around to grab a bottle from the rack, adding it to his huge tab. As I slide it over the marble tabletop, I cough as the smell of nicotine fills my poor nostrils. Booming with laughter, he tosses his cigarette onto the floor and chokes the bottle’s neck, cracking it open and pouring it all over his buddies. I sigh exasperatingly, disgusted by these drunkards polluting my work, but I’m thankful for being able to have this job despite my . . . rather messy past. After my treacherous shift, I escape through the back door of the club, a plain brick structure right outside Cinder City–a futuristic metropolis home to humans, robots, and towering glass skyscrapers. I stare at the blinking lights of the city, guilt with a hint of anger washing over me as I know that I’ll never be able to find a life there.

On a Friday evening, an interesting figure comes through the big metal door. I recognize her gorgeous features and pale skin as the colorful LED lights hit their face. It was my old best friend, Noelle. As she walks around the crowd, she waves and squeals out my name.

“Noli? Noli! Hey!”

I stop in my tracks, goosebumps instinctively coming up my arm for some reason. I was just barely a few steps away from my escape, the employee’s closet. She comes around the counter behind me and grips my hand, dragging me out the back door of the club.

“Hey, hey, hey!” I shout, stumbling as I attempt to walk backward.

Opening the door and stepping outside to the frosty wind, she confronts me in the highly claustrophobic alleyway.

“Noli! Is that you?” Something is off in the way she looks at me, “How are you. . . alive?”

I slowly step back, throat dry and hoarse as the memories sud-

denly flood back to me.

“How? Management has been looking for you forever! We thought a squad had imprisoned you already!”

Wait–“we”? Something felt off with the air as her pensive eyes stared into mine, goosebumps forming not from the cold, but from danger. Despite my odd feeling, I answer. “I escaped and since I am not going back to . . . The Pit anytime soon, I thought to start slowly rebuilding my life,” I crossed my arms, signaling to her that I was done talking.

Suddenly, as if the mention of that wasteland where we grew up had triggered something, Noelle snaps out of it. What appeared to be an awkward reunion suddenly became a serious confrontation. She pushes me against a wall, and shivers come down my spine as my back touches the cold, concrete wall.

“Noli, I’m working on tracking a fugitive right now, but my squad isn’t quite ready for the task. How about . . .” She looks me in the eyes, “. . . you join me?”

I decline. “Noelle,” I boil up, “you know very clearly how I feel about The Management, especially those greedy governors that took away our life!?”

I angrily push her off of me, trying to compose myself while heading for the club door. As the icy sensation of the handle meets my warm hands, I hear a faint click. Noelle placed her fingers on the trigger of a gun I didn’t see she had and my eyes widened.

She said grimly, “Noli, I think you forgot this, but there’s still a bounty on your head and I have to get it.”

Then, the forceful bang of a pistol and the unheard scream of a betrayed friend filled the silent night.

A captivating porcelain mask

It glimmers like the stars when the sun kisses it

Created with such delicacy

It is as perfect as a million suns shining on a single diamond

Beneath the surface, darkness looms a big black cloud covering the sun

The darkness is like a ravenous beast, hungry and wild

A vision of terror, filling people with dread

Disfigurement pretends to be an angel

Those who don the porcelain

Conceal their true intentions

Fabricating fables of false facades

But they cannot outrun themselves forever

Dahlia Germain |

6th Grade

“What Scares Us?”

I am young and sweet I have never faced defeat

I think the world is perfect Made of sunshine and light

I never would think That it’s the source of fright

As I get older, the colors fade The people I thought were happy I now see are afraid

But what is so scary? What fills them with fright?

Is it the beautiful colors and light?

Light has to appear And light has to fade

Like the days and the sun The stars And the leaves on the trees

Things will come and go Like a light summer breeze

But what's so wrong with that? What's so scary and frightening?

It's all just life That's it!

The people I thought were happy And I know are afraid

It's because of life And the things they have made

They’re scared of what will come And what will go

They’re scared of the things That they do not know.

When I found out you were gone, The world quieted.

The water which once rushed Turned into a slow drip

The music that once filled my heart And occupied my brain Was merely background noise

The wind that once rushed in my ears Turned to a soft whisper

The love I couldn’t express for you Now could only seep out through the corners of my eyes

I don’t even know if I’ll make it to your funeral I couldn’t even bear to see you alive. Alexandra

Audrey Cheang & Noah Yasuda | 8th Grade

My sniffles echoed off the grim walls of the hospital room as tears fell onto the documents stating that I was agreeing to withdraw my husband from life support. Atlas was injured so badly, but I . . . not so much. It’s been weeks since the incident. His body has been recovering, but the doctors said there has been hardly any brain activity, so there was a low chance that he’d ever regain function and control. I was getting restless from the countless cups of coffee, endless praying, and the smell of antiseptic that clung to the air. I would wait an eternity for him if it was guaranteed that he’d come back to me. But no one guaranteed that to me, so I knew I had to do this; let him go. It’s what he would’ve wanted. Though I cannot shake the feeling off, was there more that I could do for him? Finally finished with the forms, I wiped my tears with my sleeve before taking them to the nurses’ circulation desk.

With a heavy heart, I return to the hospital room and here he still is, lying vulnerable, hooked up to the many machines, unable to do anything for himself. A stoic expression rested upon his face, drastically contrasting with his usual charming smile. I take notice of the innumerable scars that are hard to ignore forming on his face and they send me right back into that moment.

It was bright and early Saturday morning. Atlas and I had just eaten breakfast. We were on the way to my appointment at the clinic, where we would discover the gender of our baby.

“I wonder what gender it’s going to be,” I exclaimed.

“I can’t wait,” he smiled. “We’ll be there in 10 minutes.” His eyes were sparkling with excitement and I couldn’t help but smile back. I thought about the countless days we talked about baby names, the decorations that would go up in the nursery, and the future we would have together.

We were on the highway when a car suddenly careened into our lane. The harsh impact caused a cacophony of sounds as I felt my body being thrown around the car. I remembered the look of terror on Atlas’ face and our piercing screams.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for what was to come.

“Mrs. Plath?” The faint sounds of the nurse's voice snap me back into reality, “Are you ready?”

“Hm?” I murmur, in need of her to repeat herself.

“Are you ready to proceed?”

“Yes, I just need a moment,” I state, my voice barely above a whisper. Was there ever really a time when someone is ready to part from the love of their life? Ready for their child to never have the chance to meet their father?

I firmly took hold of Atlas’ hand. “You know I’ll always love you. Thank you for everything.”

Kissing his forehead, I whisper, “Goodbye.” I memorized every last detail of his face, holding it in my shattering heart.

The nurse starts to turn off the machines, one by one. Then, with each beep, the number on the heart rate monitor and the waves of the heart line started to diminish.

BPM: 63

BPM: 55

As the numbers got lower, they increasingly made my chest feel heavy. I could hear the laboring in his breath as his body fought against the inevitable.

BPM: 47

BPM: 39

BPM: 30

As his final heartbeats approached, the unbearable reality that these were our final moments became overwhelmingly vivid. I clutched tighter onto his hand, hoping to hold onto this painful moment.

BPM: 21

BPM: 13

BPM: 0

With the last beep of the machine, my self-control ceased to exist. I collapsed over him, my wails loud enough to reach God. Atlas was gone.

Shiho Chan | 8th Grade

I am born in a cloud, a sooty mist that separates my siblings and me from the rest of the world. I yearn for freedom and push against the hazy barrier. But what can I do? I am a feeble droplet that cannot break through the cloud’s gates. That does not deter me. I was patient and waited and waited until I grew to a bigger size, fed by the cloud itself. It is then I could part the thin, gray gates of my cloud, and drop into the world.

I free-fall for a while, soaking up my surroundings. Dozens of clouds scattered across the sky, my fellow droplets shooting down with me, and a dark blue mass bobbing back and forth against a light beige surface. Then I crash, I crash against the blue mass, the only evidence of my existence is a small ripple on the water’s surface. As I sink into the water, I am pressed snug against other droplets. There were many, too many to count, all bunched up with one another. We squished so tightly together that you could’ve seen us as one thing, one entity. The ocean.

Although I was again reduced to a smaller size, I was still as happy and free as I was when I fell from my cloud. I even began to converse with my new siblings, at least the many I was clustered with. “Where are you from?” I asked them. Answers varied from each droplet, one came from a cloud, like me. Another came from a thinner, less salty version of an ocean called a river. Others came from a stronger, wider version of a river called a stream. One droplet even told me it came from a giant stream that flowed vertically. They called it a waterfall. I recalled my new vocabulary: River, stream, waterfall. All of this knowledge seeped into my tiny water conscience. I settled with my other water droplets I’d talk with, all pushed snug against each other. In the ocean. My ocean. And there would be many more rains and drizzles, accompanied by new droplets to chat with, and I would find myself comfortable with my life.

But it changed. All too fast, I was whisked away again. From my home, my friends, and my lovely conversations. It was an especially humid day. My body felt separated, splitting into smaller bits of my current size. The early morning was fine, with the sun tucked away behind the eastern horizon. I talked to my droplet brothers and sisters as I normally would and listened to the steady stream of conversation, adding in a few words here and there. But when the sun had risen in

the center of the sky, shining its golden rays directly down upon us, it was then I felt weaker. My body felt so minuscule and feeble, similar to when I was in my cloud. And then there was the rise.

The sun had stretched its gilded fingers, and plucked me from my siblings, from my ocean. It carried me into the great blue sky, and as I looked down at all of my siblings, whom I’d talked to and learned from, my little body filled with worry. I was at the sun’s mercy, unsure of where I’d go. Once I was rising towards the clouds, I felt microscopic. My memories blurred, and I felt myself drifting away from the world, and to a dreamless oblivion of black.

I am born in a cloud, a misty barrier that surrounds my siblings and me. A certain feeling pulls me to the world beyond, but I do not understand why. I do not know why I crave freedom. But I am curious. So when I became a bigger droplet, fed by the cloud itself, I opened the gates of my cloud and dropped into the world.

Shiho Chan | 8th Grade

Shiho Chan | 8th Grade

Renee Lee | 8th Grade

Millie Brechler | 6th Grade

私は月。

高い空から皆を見守る月。

人々が帰宅するのを見ている。

働いた後の人々、両親、子供や兄弟、おじやおば、 そして大切な人と歩く家族の姿を。

私は月。

景色や空気を感じる月。

人々の表情を見つめ、言葉を交わす姿を見守る。

時には、小さくこどくで、落ち込む様な空気に包まれている事もあれば、 喜びと満ち足りた感情にあふれる事もある。

私は月。

人々や場所を見つめる月。

森や林、街や都市、田舎。

お店が立ち並ぶ場所もあれば、自然に満ちた場所もある。

車だらけの渋滞もあれば、静けさに包まれたところもある。

360度、どこもかしこも見わたして。

私は月。

皆に時を伝える。

生き物たちに眠る時と人生を楽しむ時を教える。

私の大親友である太陽と交代に入れ替わりながら。

人間にとって、

私が現れるとほとんどの人は眠りにつく。

都会では、街灯だけが私の話し相手。

森や木々には、私が光を届ける。

植物にとって、

時には少しずつ成長したり、 休みながら息を整えたり、

強い日差しをあび続けた葉も優しくいやしていく。

動物にとって、

大変な狩りをした疲れた体でも、

私の光の元で安心して眠れる者もいれば、食べ物を求めて、

私の光の元で

頑張って食べ物を探したり取ったり一生懸命働く者もいる。

私は月。

絶対に一人じゃない。

私の隣にはあなた達が「星」と呼ぶもの。

いつもそばで輝く、キラキラ美しく光りほほえみながら人々の目を ひきつける。

時々親しげな飛行機が私の間を通り抜け、 雲をこえていく。

飛行機の中には目を覚ましている人がいたり、 長い旅の途中で寝てる人もいる。

時々親しげな飛行機が私の間を通り抜け、 雲をこえていく。

飛行機の中には目を覚ましている人がいたり、

長い旅の途中で寝てる人もいる。

私は月。

時には姿を現し、時には隠れたりしているが いつもここにいる。

私は満月だったり、三日月になるときもある。

暗い時もあれば、輝く時もある。

私は太陽と共に、季節を伝えて映し出す。

人々は私を見上げる。

夜の一番のかざりとして、 地球のかざりとして、

世界を美しく彩る存在として。

私達が支え合うと一つになる。

その時、奇跡が生まれる。

Kairi Kepa-Nguyen | 7th Grade

"The Moon"

The moon casts its gentle light

Upon the dark, unlit night, Clouds drift softly across the sky, While the trees dance, swaying high. The wind whispers a tender song, And I sit in solace, gazing long

At the distant moon, a comforting view, Breathing in air, crisp and true. Though the chill wraps around me tight, The moon’s warm glow feels just right, Igniting a spark within my soul.

This is a reminder that I am not alone.

"A Free World"

In every confrontation, Judging is the first thing people do. At every glance, We are counted, sorted, and ranked. We wear our labels like armor, Afraid to be seen as less.

We are taught to accept our place. To know our role in our society And abide by standards crafted by the fortunate.

The rich’s voices echo; Their paths are paved in gold. While the poor are silent, Buried beneath endless struggles.

Yet in the spaces between society’s walls, There is room for change and growth Unnoticed voices who speak of a free world. A place where everyone is equal, Where worth is not measured by rank or label But by who they truly are.

"Outshone"

Once a star, burning bold and bright, Perfect and wished upon in the endless night sky. A light destined to shine, A spark that others yearned to have.

Now, swallowed by the rising brilliance, The fierce glow that was possessed, hardly perceived. The spotlight shifts to one more bright, Leaving behind a star with little gleam.

Overshadowed by greatness, A presence that once stood apart, No longer special.

Fading into the dark as others watch.

Praises that were reserved, now given to others, Leaving the star in silence, Wondering when the light began to fade, Searching for the moment it became just an ordinary speck among the rest.

Elizabeth Huang | 8th Grade

"A Hint of Truth"

It started as nothing more than a black speck, a flickering darkness at the edge of my peripheral vision. I caught it as I crossed the wide city street, the flashing highways above already hindering my view. I blinked harder and then tried rubbing my eyes. Yet, the spot still lingered in the corner. I sighed in defeat, it’ll probably go away later . . .

By noon, I noticed some things beginning to change. Sitting in my office, the colors along the walls seemed more muted than usual, and the normally bustling atmosphere in the lounge was unsettling and empty. I looked around during my break to find someone to talk to, but no one seemed to be there. Maybe I missed an announcement or something, I thought, returning to the computer I’d been staring at all day.

After leaving work that night, I walked through the crowded city, thinking it might help clear my head. But, only an uneasy feeling grew in my chest as I looked around. Everything seemed a bit off. Almost too... normal? People drifted by on the sidewalks carrying blank stares, their steps eerily in sync with the others around them. The blinding signs and bright vending machines along the streets began flickering the longer I stared. But, as soon as I blinked, they froze, returning to their normal state.

Suddenly, a dizziness came over me, along with a sharp ringing in my ears. The cold wind prickled my skin, making the hairs along my arms rise and the rest of my body tighten. The speck began to pulse, darkness seeping into the world around me. My breaths rushed as my heart raced in a panic. What is going on? Pain exploded in my head and my hands instinctively gripped my head. Tears filled my eyes, but I resisted the urge to scream. I forced myself to look around for somewhere—anywhere—to hide.

Slowly, something began to materialize in the blurriness I was trying to blink away. Squinting past the haziness, I saw a figure hunched over a keyboard sitting alone in a dark room. The only light came from the three computer screens in front of him illuminating his face with a pale glow. From under his desk, a quiet hum emanated from a generator, resonating within the walls. The rapid clicking of his keys echoed in the silence as he typed vigorously. Lines of what looked like code filled all three of his screens, stretching across

hundreds of pages.

“This bug is really terrible,” the man muttered, his voice low and hoarse. His hair looked disheveled, curly, unkempt strands flying away at different angles. Dark circles drooped below his eyes, hinting at sleepless nights spent debugging his work. Empty bags of chips and crushed energy drink cans were left scattered on the tables and floor around him. Stretching out his arms, he leaned back far in his leather chair, the hinges and screws creaking as his weight shifted. Straining his neck backwards, he froze for a moment and closed his eyes, taking in the brief moment of respite.

A few seconds passed, and then his eyelids began to flutter open. Slowly, his neck stretched to the side until he became rigidly still, eyes widened, looking straight at me. For a long pause he just stared at me in raw emotion. Shock. Confusion. His mouth fell open, but his breath caught in his throat. Eyebrows furrowed upon his face as if his mind was scrambling to process what he was seeing. Finally, a gasp broke the silence.

“Wait . . . you're from–” His voice cracked, “How are you here?”

Steven Au | 8th Grade

"The Day Where The Giants Fell"

The voracious flames creep near my feet as I gasp for air uncontrollably; the overwhelming heat is too much to bear. As I crawl along the scalding floor, all I can hear are the blood-curdling screams of my coworkers from the offices down the hall.

“I love you, Emma. I’m going to miss you,” I wheeze into the smoke.

It was like any ordinary day; I had left my cozy apartment with my loving wife, Willow, and our sweet teenage daughter. While I walked through the sardine-packed streets of New York, I thought of the days where Willow and I would spend hours together before the morning rush. We would spend our mornings together cooking scrambled eggs until the aroma of bacon and eggs filled the apartment. However, all those sweet memories left my head as I glanced back at my watch. Being extremely late for work, I sprinted towards the MTA, hoping that my boss wouldn't fire me. Running towards the front entrances this chilly morning, I noticed that everyone around me had their business attire with coats draped over. The elevators were especially crowded as the air buzzed with ambition for the new day. I rushed towards my cramped cubicle desk, laden with thousands of spreadsheets; some crumpled and stained with coffee. In my haste, I forgot to look at the clock; only to be relieved as it showed 8:00 on the dot.

After a gruesome 40 minutes of working, I headed toward the water jug to grab a quick drink, as endlessly looking at pie charts and data had dried up my eyes. By sheer luck, my great friend, Alex, was also taking a sip of the cold, refreshing water. He took a long gulp and crumpled his paper cup. He turned towards me and spoke slowly in a low-pitched voice, “How is everything going with the family?”

I sluggishly replied, “Well these last few weeks were pretty stressful with all the upcoming deadlines, and I’m not always home for dinner.”

Alex frowned, but then exclaimed, “Hey, at least you can look forward to your birthday next week and the deadlines are this week too!” After our conversation, I headed back to my desk and felt a little better with Alex’s comforting words. For once, I thought my day would

be better, but then all of a sudden I heard the thunderous engines of a jet which shook the tables. With my eyes wide open, I saw a massive commercial airliner, coming closer with every second. I ducked for cover, not even questioning the reason for the jet’s intentions, at that moment my whole world seemed to be collapsing before my very eyes. Everything is pitch black with grainy soot covering every inch of my body, permeating the smell of charcoal into my clothes. My hands burn, and my skin peels off in great chunks as I slowly crawl on the carpet. The raging fire below makes the surrounding air as hot as the sun, with my sweat almost evaporating from my forehead while trying to find the stairwells for freedom against the choking soot. Alex appears looking deeply injured, this time no longer speaking like the optimistic person he once was. He cries in agony, a large gash on his left leg due to a falling steel beam after the crash. Visibility is incredibly low, and all the surrounding fires make escaping almost impossible. I shout for help, but to no avail as the crackling sound of fire is too great for my raspy voice. Alex, knowing that the end is near, grabs onto my collar and whispers, “Tell my family that I love them.”

Desperately I utter a few words to keep his hopes high, “We can get out of this building; just get up.” Without warning, the fire from below bursts up like magma spewing from a volcano. Together we look at each other in horror as the pure pain of being burned alive sends shivers down our spines, but eventually, in this final moment with only mere minutes left to live. I thought about how little time I spent with my precious girl; she had grown up to become independent, but how would she feel when I won’t return from work? We had gotten into an altercation over breakfast due to me missing her big dance performance again.

“I wish you would never come back! All you do is just work and you’re never here for anything,” Emma snarled with tears in her eyes; then left the room with a palpable atmosphere. Even under the immense pain, I began to tear up while clutching the small photo of Emma in my hands. As everything burns around me with the picture slowly turning into ash I sob saying, “I’m sorry for everything Emma; I hope you can forgive me.”

“A Divided Nation”

Chaos and mayhem reign upon the disheveled people of America. A nation is fractured into two; divided by hatred and defined by set agendas. Endless days of depreciating remarks against both opponents. Civility thrown into the wind without regard. Nothing but pure squawking at problems that won’t be resolved unless fierce resistance.

Objective issues become twisted like a knotted branch, till the sole purpose loses its meaning. A country once full of aspirations is now a wasteland of shattered dreams. Perhaps?

Is there a way to wind back time?

Perhaps, can we return to the days of when our leaders vouched for compromises?

Perhaps, can we turn from our divided selves to become one, united for a just cause?

Not to be deceived by others, but to discern right from wrong. Perhaps, can we stride toward open conversations instead of spiteful discussions?

Will there ever be a time when we can take a glimpse back to the good days? Nevertheless, we can reflect upon our roots and ponder fundamental principles that were created: “We the People”

Red and blue split into two, like a curtain torn from tension

However, things can be mended back together like a cloth sewn into one Instead of deception, we shall collectively work with each other for a better future

A shining beacon of freedom, justice, and opportunity for all No matter whether left or right; a union is built upon compromises for the betterment of America

Mirah Cristobal

7th Grade

The ground would shiver, The walls would shake. I never thought about it, But this time, it didn’t stop.

Seconds to minutes; Up and down. The land shattered. Was the world… Ending?

Resting in the same place, For weeks, months, years, maybe decades

With the memory of a mother Sitting in the leather driver's seat, Not being able to get out, With the driver’s door glued shut by the debris and Pushed closed with a fallen tree branch.

I have been infested with insects I have seen other cars crash I have heard the panic. The worry I feel abounding, Weighed down by the vines, weeds, flowers, And the guilt.

I see the soul of the driver still walking around, screaming at people for help I feel her panic and worry as she tries to get attention to save her baby, Holding her stomach as she cries,

I couldn’t stop. My brakes wouldn’t work. I heard her screams as I crashed into a wall.

Smoke coming out from the front, Gas leaking, And a fire slowly starting to burn, I feel the heat as the fire spreads from the trunk, to the passenger door, Until it covers me like a warm blanket, then I hear it, Boom.

I felt the heat from the fire, The smell of smoke,

Slowly, people came to observe me, Taking pictures, The woman screaming to save her baby, Tears stream down her face, as everyone ignores her.

I saw her, slipping away from life, Holding her stomach as her eyes closed with a tear trickling down her cheeks

As she is dying, I realize, I’m dying with her, missing some parts, A wheel, A door, A pedal, And a bonnet

I am fully aware that I have crashed, That the owner has passed away, along with her child, That I will sit here for years, maybe even decades, Rusting, disintegrating, Turning into a figure of the past.

I know that I can do nothing, But sit I wanted to live more, I wanted to experience more things, I want to survive

Soon, I hope that the owner can also see That all she can do is accept so that she can rest in peace.

My final wish, Is that my owner, And her baby, Can find peace.

October 21, 1985

Dear Friends,

I will never finish writing this poem. I will keep you wondering what happens next. Forever wondering, hoping. Till the clouds in the sky turn to ash. Until you become so curious, You can hear your own screams echo in your empty skull. How does it end? How does it end?

I will leave the pages blank, The screen filled with static, I will let you listen to the howling of the wind and the screaming white noise. I will watch as you stare. Intently. At.

The blank pages, And the screen filled with static. Waiting for something to appear. For all those mysteries to come together. For you to find the answers. How does it end? How does it end?

The world will keep on turning. You will keep on wondering And you will never know. How does it end? hOw ddoeS it enD?

Then the curiosity will overcome you.

All those eyes, staring, never seeing That eye of nothingness.

Of illusion.

Of tricks.

Never will you know. Never will you know.

How does it end? HOW DDOES IT ENd!?

“How does it end?”

You will keep on wondering.

Until you grow mad with despair. Till you fall into the darkness. And you will see darkness. And all you will know will become Darkness.

How does it end? HOW DOES IT END?

Will you ever truly forget?

Will you ever truly stop wondering?

Will the ending always be at the back of your mind, The one question you never can answer? And the worst part is,

Shiho Chan | 8th Grade

Dahlia Germain | 6th Grade

"The Frigid Deer"

The frigid deer Shall come and go

Make people feel as cold as snow

It may touch you with its head or nose

But when it does

You'll know it's time to go

The frigid deer smells like soft spring And when it comes

You'll feel a dash of rain

The rain will feel Cold and grim

Yet soft and light

It will cover your eyes

And make it

As dark as midnight

Some people think the deer only

Brings hatred and fright

And some think it is the one

That brings the light.

Elise Yoshida | 6th Grade

"Last Thoughts"

A flower is grown, and can be cut

Regrown to be just as much

But you cannot

You aren't a flower

Your radiant smile can light the world

Thawing the frost from trees

Your laughter can mend a broken heart

Every move you make is guided by the will of god

You’re one of a kind

But you don’t rise with the dawn

Your life can end, and when it does

Do you think . . .

You spent your life well?

Did you share your joy with all who were there?

Did you give love to all who cared?

But most importantly, did you feel loved?

And when you weren't, what kept you going?

Christina Bui | 6th Grade

"My Heart's Desire"

The quote ‘follow your heart’ continues to confuse me throughout this journey. If the heart is ever to shatter, what must one follow?

-Christina Bui

01/01/2024

For every painting I have ever done It continues to cripple one by one, The mind and creativity that was put to the piece It’s creases from the iron stomps of one’s feet They never seemed to notice that the "scribbles" were thoroughly processed

As the shuffles create further messes, pieces of my heart begin to slip away

What about the quote? What about the process? It seems to have no other way

Although this might be a lesson from my dear parents It burst my heart to see my thoughts become transparent

The lessons from my parents guide my path Although it can be hard to not look back The past is forever a rain cloud above my head And I tried and tried but can’t seem to look away It brings back memories, memories that haunt me

My mind just can’t let me be I know my parents told me not to look But what was the cause? I’m not a perfect book.

The quote ‘follow your heart” is no longer confusing. Even if the heart breaks, it will always beat just as hard.

-Christina Bui

01/01/2025

Emilee Tran | 7th Grade

"Oh, Where Did the Time Go?"

Do you remember when you were young,

And you used to wish you were older?

Do you remember when you couldn’t wait for your 18th birthday

So you could finally move out and be on your own?

You couldn’t wait.

And now all you do is wishing you waited.

Wishing you had more time

Wishing you didn’t grow up so fast

Wishing elementary school didn’t flash by in a blast

You couldn’t wait.

Wishing our parents still spoiled us like they did when we were younger

When they would take you to special places

When they would take you to school and pick you up, lunch bag in hand

Even though they were still working, They would buy you new toys, clothes, and sheets

Do you remember?

Wishing we were children again

And running around during recess, not caring about a single thing

Not caring about school or if you looked cool

Do you remember?

Not questioning if he’s playing you

Or if he thinks you’re a fool

Or using you like one of his tools

Loving someone not for money, but For you, loving you not for other things

Just for you

Not questioning if you are pretty enough

Smart enough

Good enough

Not questioning anything at all

Do you remember it?

“Growing

Up”

As a child, there was always room in the world for everything

Always room to cut chunks of my hair off for the satisfying sound

Always room to pull all-nighters with my sisters just for the thrill And I dreamt of the day I would grow up and have the independence to live life to the fullest

But that dream is the one thing I now wish never happened

As all the room I had is now packed to the brim with Assignments and stress that build every second of the day

Grades becoming harder and harder to maintain each year that comes around

Being told by others, “I know you can do it” and “You’re smart enough.”

When deep down I know I can’t do it and I know there are things I’m not talented in Life is becoming too much, too much for me to keep up with

And Now there’s no room to enjoy spending hours playing board games with family

No room left to spare in my schedule

No room left for even the slightest mistakes

And now there’s no room to laugh with those I love

Not enough room to simply relax without feeling guilty

All I do now is wish that I could rewind time And stay young forever to times when there was simply room for everything

"Sisters By Choice, Not By Blood"

Having a friend group as close as sisters is:

- Being able to tell each other anything.

- Doing a lot together almost everything

- Sharing food, makeup, and water without thinking it’s gross

- Being there for each other when we need it most.

- Laughing till it feels like abs are going to form

- Helping out like fixing a shirt that's torn

- Making sure each other is okay

- Lifting each other up especially when it's a really bad day

- Giving each other advice and showing each other we care

- Checking each others outfits and even our hair

It can be tiring from time to time But, I love them more than anything, I bet you could have guessed.

So I dedicate this poem to wherever my group may be To the people I love for now and forever To my sisters, from me

In one flash of a cheap camera, I’m dumped onto the bridge connecting childhood and tomorrow. Once, I raced forward with a ready heart, but now I pace with weary steps. But I want to run back to those pristine skies, where joyous and free memories thrive; But the tangent path behind me crumbles, leaving nothing but the scent of bittersweet memories

To sip the morning dew once more, To dance in the untouched snow, To walk on trails smoother, And to surf on waves, now long gone.

Day to night, my fingers are stained with charcoal-black lead, My hours once filled with free playing, are now consumed by endless typing. Trails, once marked with simplicity, are now unstable and uneven. Oh, childhood, like sand in an hourglass, Seeping away, undetected, and unrelenting.

So, I trudge on this frigid, cobblestone path. Stumbling, trying to fit in Knees, scraping upon what I could have done.

But I pick myself up, Clutching onto each bittersweet photo and memory Tens and thousands of priceless fragments of time, Yet it all felt like a few miles.

真っ青の空の下で

初めて見る顔を思い出す

授業中真面目に勉強して 放課後友達と話しながら 「また明日。」

授業の宿題が増えるだけで 新しく学ぶ物はあまりない

先生の教え方で困る一方 いい成績を取っても 何が正しいのかがわからない

友達に会うのが一番の楽しみで そこで無い場所で会っても照れるだけ 3年経った今、興味も趣味も変わって

最初は苦手だった人は今隣に立っている

友達は波の様子に行ったり来たり

時には怒り、怒られ、笑い、笑われ くだらない事で泣いた日もあった

学校は出会い、始まりと終わりの塊で 一番の思い出の場所 そして思い出せば笑顔になれる

もう会えないかもしれない

でもまたどこかで出会える そういう気がする

忙しい放課後の青い空の下で 「またね。」

Jadelyn Takaki | 8th Grade

“Winds

of Change”

I

once feared change

Fear that nothing will ever be the same

Yet a refreshing wind to face for days

As change can come in many different ways

Thunder may strike to ruin the day

Or the sun may follow to brighten the play

I once looked upon a patch of flowers

Beautiful than ever, glowing with light

But it slowly withers away within the hours

To be left in rot and acrid blight

The most beautiful of others could not escape

The winds of change that eventually flow by

But hope is not lost as the bodies break

To grow a new plant right in place

I once feared change

And I still fear now, it will be unchanged

Yet appreciated or not, it won’t alter the fact

That change is inevitable in life

A subtle breeze or a violent hurricane

And they are nothing but winds of change

Audrey Cheang | 8th Grade

"The Feeling of Home "

The scent of burning cigarettes swirls through the polluted city air, Mixing into the rich aroma of the small food vendors selling sizzling stir-fried foods.

On these crowded, bustling streets, alive with life, Echoes of the metro rush past my ears.

As angry taxi drivers honk their horns to get by the rush hour, Ticking sounds of the signal on crosswalks ring in my ears.

The streets, adorned with bright city lights and vibrant colors of red and yellow, blink into my eyes.

The wave of anxiety lingers as a comforting reassurance washes over me.

These streets, these voices—they whisper and shout, Filling my heart with nostalgia, love, and pain; It's really a symphony of chaos. But this, it makes me feel Makes me feel . . .

Home

Brandon Lai | 8th Grade

"Shades of the Day"

The sunrise is beautiful, isn’t it?

The crack of dawn emits powerful beams of light

Slowly, hope rises along with the sun bringing

Hope that things will be accomplished

The sun is bright today, isn’t it?

Happiness fills the soul, with motivation that could move mountains

Time flies, and time stops

An abundance of things to do with so little time

The sunset is stunning, isn't it?

A colorful scene, filled with shades of pink, orange, red, and yellow

Something so beautiful should last forever, With memories continuing on, moments lasting endlessly

If only I could have more of what the world could offer,

But, those gifts dissolve with the setting sun

The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

It knows secrets, and heard countless wishes

Unwanted memories, thoughts that could not be spoken

If only the world knew, if the mistakes could be reversed

But the world keeps spinning, Maybe there's hope for another day

2024-2025 Editorial Team

Kiana Alcain is the better twin who has been pleased to draw the cover for the past three years. She loves Miffy and is obsessed with the koto instrument, but no one expects her to like the color red.

Steven Au attempts his very best to always meet standards or even go beyond them, although he may seem like a nerd on the outside. In reality, at heart, he’s a geek for SpaceX and all other things related to space including Mars. Nevertheless, all his fellow classmates still know him as a “try-hard,” but his perception of school is just to maintain a 4.0 GPA.

Christina Bui enjoys listening to Stray Kids, watching K-dramas, playing piano and doing her studies. Throughout the week, she stays up late watching K-dramas, eating every second (especially for her mom’s Vietnamese food), looking at her grades, and gets extremely worried when she gets anything below an A. She’s a social butterfly and cares for people’s emotions deeply no matter if they are strangers, close friends, or family.

Venessa Cho deeply enjoys listening to music, especially Laufey; she streams her songs constantly on Spotify. She also loves being in orchestra and always goes in during STAR time to practice her beloved viola. While practicing, she maintains a 4.0 GPA throughout the quarters, often putting it first to other wants.

Sophia Damitio pushes themself to the fullest. Music, nature, and creativity always seem to bring them joy when they aren’t at their best. They always want the best for others; though it may not show, they want their friends to live life to the fullest. They wonder where life will take them, but knows that in the end, everything will be okay.

Naya Furuyama enjoys making pottery and crafts in her free time. She thinks it feels freeing to make physical items from her imagination. She scrolls through Pinterest 24-7 and has times where she reminisces on cringe moments. She hopes to improve her outlook and become a happier person overall.

Florentyna Germain likes drawing, listening to music and exploring forests. She doesn’t know what she wants for her future but hopes to figure it out alongside her friends. They hope to make positive impacts

in as many people's lives as possible and to spread kindness across the world. They feel honored to be in this year's BTH Editorial Team!

Eve Hollen loves music (Asteria, Laufey, Sir Mix-A-Lot), art, and talking to her friends. When life gives her lemons, she plants the seeds and invests in her citrus empire. She has no idea what she’ll do with her life, but she dreams of enlisting and being a marksman, then wakes up.

Elizabeth Huang strives to live a life full of excitement and growth. She always makes the most of every opportunity, hoping to learn something interesting, meet new people, and have fun. In her free time, she enjoys reading, talking to friends, listening to music, eating, or laughing at the silly reels she gets sent.

Tytus Ito-Macion has big dreams of becoming a rapper. He also likes to play soccer and box. He is a sneakerhead and has way too many pairs of shoes. He takes his grades very seriously and needs a 4.0. He may have some challenges, but he always pushes through it.

Risa Jumawan loves music, practicing at STAR and home for piano and bass lessons. She also loves art and is always doodling in class on her paper assignments. She has lots of flaws, scars, and insecurities, but sometimes, only sometimes, is proud of who she has become.

Miko Kawai is a straight-A student and has unnecessarily high expectations for herself. However, her parents really don’t care if she gets a ‘B’ or not. Miko spends her days paddling, drawing in her free time, and listening to music, specifically Hatsune Miku.

Alexandra Knight believes that to define is to limit.

Lily Kuroda is an avid but introspective individual. Her day unfolds in a cycle of socializing, eating, and studying. At the end of these experiences, her thoughts lull her into a well-deserved sleep.

Renee Lee tries to be content with everything she sets her mind to. She is passionate about drawing characters, designs, and clothing. She tries to see the connections in stories or artwork, knowing that each piece contains a perspective-changing spirit and style.

Veta Li can come off as cold and unapproachable sometimes, but can be very nice when a conversation starts. They love to draw, play games, and listen to music (Beabadoobee, Will Wood, Red Velvet). She works hard to remember things more often and tries to do his best to wake up every morning. It can be very hard for them.

Brooke Lopez has most of her life planned out and isn’t all that open to new experiences. She believes there is always more to a story than how it appears on the surface. Her favorite pastime is talking with her friends, beginning late at night and continuing until she can see the sunlight peeking through the curtains.

Mia Lu loves pretzel sticks and can be quite ditzy. She always tries her best at everything to impress others, usually ending up messing up and making everyone laugh. However, she’s proud of being the silly human that she is.

Emily Mau is the owner of three fat cats. She enjoys hanging out with her friends, playing sports, such as golf or volleyball, and has a weird obsession with pasta. She is also the best sister ever!

Zora Maurer is very focused and chill. In her free time, she enjoys music, tennis, and literature. Her bright sense of humor means she is always ready to share a laugh.

Elizabeth Oh is a hardworking and kind-hearted girl. She enjoys time spent with friends and family. A few things she likes are playing instruments with friends, sketching, and meaningful writing. She always focuses on achieving her goals and striving for perfection.

Leilani Phillips is a compassionate and sincere girl who enjoys listening to music (alt-rock, musicals, midwest emo, classical), doom scrolling, Legos, crafts, and whatever hobby she’s fixated on for that week. While she does have dramatic moments and a major procrastination problem, she does her best to be open-minded, care about the people she loves, and try her best despite what life throws at her. She also likes eggs–like, really likes eggs.

Kalea Starr is a cryptic and unusual humanoid. She loves music and plays the oboe in band. In her free time, she enjoys reading, practicing, and annoying her friends by making pop culture references.

Kairi Takata loves green aliens from Toy Story and has a hobby to collect them. She also plays the French horn that is never in tune. A few things that she likes to do is hang out with her friends, eat ice cream, and cause trouble to her sister.

Mana Takimoto tries to avoid socialization as much as possible, but enjoys spending time with her few friends. During her free time, she enjoys sleeping on the couch (until she gets yelled at by her mom), laughing out loud with her friends, and eating anything she finds delicious. She also has a bizarre family tree at school, which sometimes surprises her.

Caylee Tran enjoys socializing with others, especially her friends. She also has a passionate love for music, as she enjoys playing the violin and listening to all kinds and genres of music! Although she does have a major problem of procrastinating quite often, having to do her homework under insane amounts of stress. However, she always gets the job done, and is able to produce quality work and still get A’s! Somehow . . .

Ayanna Watarida-Okura is very loud and obnoxious around her friends, and is also athletic in volleyball. She loves practicing her clarinet and loves music, especially K-pop (Straykids, Enhypen, TXT, Ateez, Seventeen). She loves Beyond the Horizon and all the submissions we get to read as well!

Elise Yoshida loves figure skating, playing the clarinet, and reading books in her free time. She loves school and really cares about her academics. She takes her grades very seriously, but still has time to hang out and have fun with her friends.

Advisor | Dr. Matthew Tom loves seeing what students can do and the people they become when given the time, space, and resources to dream, imagine, and explore. Dr. Tom firmly believes that the stories and perspectives written and shared by the youth will heal and change this world for the better, one conversation and one heart at a time.

You are important. Your story is important. You have a story worth telling.