Imagine 2020

This book is dedicated to all the youth in Summit County .

We Love you.

Be Brave.

Be Bold.

Imagine the possibilities.

Impact the world around You. In loving memory of Toby Gard and Christopher Darst

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Contents Foreward. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Courtney Brown Author Spotlight. . . . . . . . . .18-23 Calista Luetkens Artist Spotlight. . . . . . . . . . 36-44 Ella Eland Artist Spotlight. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78-89 COVID-19 Quarantine Collection. . . . . . . . . . 118-125 Toby Gard Tribute. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6-7 Green Patriot Posters. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .52-53 Acknoledgements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .132 About Breckenridge Creative Arts . . . . . . . . . . . 133 About the After School Writing Club . . . . . . . . .133

Poetry The Name I Was Given | Courtney Brown. . . . . .18 How Do You Love Me Broken? | Courney Brown . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .19 Poetic Obsession | Courtney Brown . . . . . . . . . . 20 Untitled | Courtney Brown . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 The Coyote | Logan Ellison . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .31 Ice | Freya Schlaefer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .45 Art | Josh Smith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .48

About Building Hope . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133

The Wind | Eli Klasnick . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .58

Short Stories

Me and You | Courtney Brown . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71

Fly | Lindsay Davis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Remember Those Fun Times We Had | Christian Skowron. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 The Age of Age Itself | Kaitlin Tufano. . . . . . . . . . 28 Apathy and Empathy | Mandy Clawson. . . . . . . 46 The Cavern of Gods | Katerina Lee. . . . . . . . . .54-57 Time Travel | Molly Nikkel. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62-63 Goodbyes | Ian Hans. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64-66 Gregory the Tree | Carson Earnest. . . . . . . . . . . . .90 My Mom | Isabelle Tarrant. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .74 One Year | Hunter Stimson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 The Waltz of the Marionettes | Hunter Giacone. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99 Rises From the Ashes | Phoenix Meyer. . .104-105 Nostalgia | Sophia Brown. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .108-109 A Day of Reckoning | Case Bosgraaf. . . . . . . 112-115 A Painful Serenity | Molly Nikkel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 SueĂąos Compartidos | Anonymous . . . . . . . . . . .34 Time | Anonymous . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124 The Steel Dark | Maggie Butler . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Dragons | Tess Levin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 Mountains | Josh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 Clean Up That Mess | Ivy Edberg . . . . . . . . . . . . . .92 Pristine Land | Luke Klasnick . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .95 Sun Over Grand Canyon | James Klasnick . . . . 96 Older | Gabriella Michaels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .102 Words vs. Worlds | Emily Carisch . . . . . . . . . . . . .103 Prevention | Riley Lovejoy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .107 Dull Harmony | Isaac York . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 Balance | David Castro Hidalgo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .116 Covid-19 | Riley Lovejoy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125

Artwork Best Friends | Heather Collins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .8 Bonsai Tree | Kalena Sapp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .8 Travel | Ariana Golgoon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .9 Flamingos | Natalie Anderson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10-11 5 de Octobre Dos Mil Dieciseis, Little by Little | Dorismar Torres Rodriguez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Trapped | Madison Ayn Harlan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Eye | Kalena Sapp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .15 Space Girl | Natalie Miller . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .17 Little Flaws | Ginnel Camacho de Leon . . . . . . . .16 Too MuchDwelling on What Has Been |

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Cover Art:

Eagle Acryic Matthew Shaffer | Grade 11 The cover art is a still life painting of the eagle statue in Silverthorne, Colorado.

Courtney Brown . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Moms and Their Bellies: A Series | Courtney Brown . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Snowboarding | Jadyn Dalrymple . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 Lover | Madison Ayn Harlan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 A Splashing Winter | Victoria Nickel . . . . . . . 26-27 Koala | Matthew Shaffer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .29 The Baddest Beach | Maya Zook . . . . . . . . . . . . . .30 Neuro View | Faith Beal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .32-33 Just a Touch of Love | Calista Luetkens . . . . . . . 38 Dominick | Calista Luetkens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 Rylee | Calista Luetkens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .40 Dog in the Clouds | Calista Luetkens . . . . . . . . . .41 Frederick Vance | Calista Luetkens . . . . . . . . . . . .42 Cameron Boyce | Calista Luetkens . . . . . . . . . . . .43 Couldn’t Tell You | Tucker Garbe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 Are They Watching Me? | Annarose Craig . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 Space Invasion | Leif Joseph Anderson . . . . . . . 50 Untitled | Brady Platt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 RISE UP! | Jonah Alan Charles Mocatta . . . . . . . 58 Red Trees | Collin Doran . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .59 Sports! | Lucas Sudduth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .60-61 Gobble Gum Goblin | Payton R Ferrari . . . . . . . .62 Marble Reflection | Ivy Edberg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 Wolf Eyes | Natalie Miller . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 Rose | Madison Ayn Harlan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .67 Bonsai | Emilie McAtamney . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68-69 When Women Support | Zoe Turner . . . . . . . . . .70 Forbidden Love | Madison Lebow . . . . . . . . . . . . .72 Fox in Flight | Leif Joseph Anderson . . . . . . . . . . 73

Life of a Bonsai | Ivy Edberg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .75 The Drowning Pencil | Maximo Sanchez de la Torre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .76-77 Sunflower | Ella Eland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .80 Escape | Ella Eland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .81 WHOA | Ella Eland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .82 On the Water | Ella Eland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .84 In Omnia Paratus | Ella Eland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .85 Degrees | Ella Eland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .86 The Gift of Creativity | Ella Eland . . . . . . . . . . . . . .88 Focus and Breathe | Caroline L. Blackwell . . . . .91 The Toucan | James Klasnick . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 The Titles Are Insignificant | Gabriel W. Knight . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 Arctic Love | Kayla Hanson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .94 Silent Wisp | Saylor Fausel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 First Generation Dream | Violet Heisler . . . . . . . 97 MOO | Elizabeth Smith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 Summer | Litzy Ortega . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 Six Turtles Mandala | Lucas Sudduth . . . . . . . . . 101 Sunset in the Clouds | John Weldon . . . . . . . . . .101 Flying High | Liam Jackman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 Forrest Gump | Caleb White . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Bright Ideas | Lily Young . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 Rocco | Levi Horvath . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 Daisy Dreaming | Liliana Lopez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 Chasing the Clouds in the Sky | Hailey Ann Hagburg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 Captain America | Beckett Burnette . . . . . . . . . 109 Performance | Jaime Venegas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 Inspiring Words Elephant | Mia Norden . . . . . . .111 Calm Waters | Alina Cospolich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .110 Perspective | Dina Hernandez Nayeli . . . . . . . . . 116 Be Different | Skylar Halverson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .117 Dead Main | Caroline Fischer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .118 Drowning in Perspectives | Lucy Fiedler. . . . . .120 PANDEMIC | Ella Eland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .121 Untitled | Kaitlyn Carney . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122 Simplicity | Abby Daugherty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 Look up | Abby Daugherty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

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Foreward At the beginning of each semester, I have always shared a lesson titled, “What is Art For?” I was inspired to create this lesson originally after coming across a video by the same name, which was created and narrated by the Swiss born, Cambridge educated, writer and philosopher Alain de Botton. I have literally watched this video a hundred times or more over the past five years, and yet somehow I never tire of it. I think my students actually like the video, too, which is why I keep showing it.

The thing is, for some reason, that even though we know that art is all around us and most of us humans appreciate the arts in some form or another, oftentimes for most, it is still difficult to put a finger on just why art is so important in our world.

Alain de Botton suggests that art helps us to: 1. Be hopeful 2. Feel less lonely 3. Rebalance us 4. Appreciate the right stuff 5. Remember what’s good If there was ever a time for art...NOW is that time!! The current situation we are dealing with can be very stressful. With a worldwide pandemic, quarantine, distance learning and so much sadness and concern for the future, whether young or old, we all could use a little art therapy.

Have you ever thought that your imagination and being creative could do wonders for your health? Behold the long list of benefits below published by whataportrait.com!

Please enjoy the Imagine III 2020 collection of visual and literary arts created by the youth of Summit County, Colorado.

We hope that they provide you with some inspiration, hopefulness and an opportunity to imagine a better time. Because most certainly this, too, shall pass and there will be better days ahead.

Karen Fischer NAHS (National Art Honor Society) Advisor, Summit High School & Snowy Peaks High School Art Teacher Sonya Dalrymple Young Writers Club Facilitator, BreckCreate 4

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Best Friends Mixed Media Heather Collins | Grade 12 I love to draw, and I have a strong passion for Music

Bonsai Tree Graphite Pencil Kalena Sapp | Grade 12

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Fly

By Lindsay Davis The bell rings right into my ear.

“Yay!!!!” everybody screams. Time for recess.

The students rush outside trying to get to the monkey bars. I see a girl wearing bib overalls fall, but it is ok. Jack is helping her up.

Once I waited my turn in line, I got on top of the monkey bars and felt like I was touching the sky as did all of the students who were on the top of the monkey bars.

No one knew then that later in my life I actually would.

The girl from Jefferson Elementary would be the first woman girl to go to space.

Laying on top of those monkey bars made me feel free. I’ve been trying to catch that feeling again for so long that I have lost the meaning of it.

Maybe it is because now I am up here in space and feel as lonely as someone could possibly feel. What if I die? I am only 30. I still have more than half of my life to live.

I cannot get in contact with my coworkers on earth because my equipment has failed. I want to accomplish more, and I know I can. At this point it is all up to fate.

Whether or not the earth is to have enough gravity and friction to pull me down or if I’m going to keep floating and die of hunger. Whichever way it goes, I’m scared, and there is no way of stopping this feeling from going to the bottom of my stomach and eating every single ounce of hope that I have.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR My name is Lindsay Davis and I go to Summit High School. I really love making art. I think that art is fun and there are a lot of cool things to make. I also love it when you start making something and you are very dedicated to it then you see the final product and you love it! I love being able to express yourself in a different way other than talking.

Travel Arcylic Ariana Golgoon | Grade 12 My name is Ariana (Ana) Golgoon, and I am a senior at Summit High School. I have been drawing for a long time but took my first drawing class semester 1 of junior year. I really enjoy when I’m able to see the final product, it gives me a nice feel of satisfaction. Most of my art is inspired by adventuring, nature, bright colors, and patterns. If I draw any patterns,w I tend to do it in black and white. When I’m bored I usually start drawing flowers somewhere and that usually shows up in my art work.

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Flamingos Arcylic Natalie Anderson | Grade 12

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Art allows me to express myself and my ideas. I like the fact that art has no limits.

There is a huge variety of art mediums I can use to create different pieces. I love to paint. Paint is one of my favorite mediums to work with when creating art. I also enjoy playing rugby and lacrosse. I have lived in Breckenridge my whole life.

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Remember Those Fun Times We Had

By Christian Skowron I remember you, Grandpa, and how you would always say. “HEY” Although I lived far away, our relationship never went astray, our bond grew with each passing day. Your voice could be a voice of reason, a voice of love, or a voice of silliness.

Now, although I don’t hear it outloud any more, it is in my heart and will never fade away.

All those fun outings that we had, will live forever in my memories. Although things have changed, those special times will not be forgotten. I wish things hadn’t changed. I will always remember you, Grandpa.

For your joy and caring outlook on life. You made me feel so happy and made many good memories that I will look back on and think of those times when, we used to eat pancakes at IHOP or pick out toys at job lots, or eat cheese and crackers on the patio.

I will also never forget the day the sky sobbed, and when the basement filled with toys that had been such a big part of my young life flooded with three feet of cold musty rainwater. This was the day I felt my stomach drop like an avalanche. This was the day I felt my heart beat faster than a jet in the sky, but that jet must not have traveled fast enough because when I arrived, your heart had stopped.

Grandpa, you were like what an elephant is to an ant. I was the ant, and you were the great colossus elephant, larger than life. I know you have met the saints. And I know you will be watching from above as I follow in your footsteps.

I miss you grandpa.

“The Age” newspaper in Australia once said, “Cry not because he’s gone.

Smile because he was here.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR My name is Christian Skowron. I am a freshman at Summit High School. I play soccer and ski. I like hanging out with my dad and playing soccer with him.

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5 de Octobre Dos Mil Dieciseis, Little by Little Arcylic Dorismar Torres Rodriguez | Grade 10

My passion for art is based on the detail and effort I put into it. I try to involve color, shape, and creativity, as if no one has seen it. I try to make my artwork perfect, to its finest. Creating art helps me be calm, and when I complete art, I feel accomplished.

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Trapped Mirco Pen Madison Ayn Harlan Grade 10 I have been drawing ever since I can remember. The majority of my art I try to make as realistic as possible. All of my artwork has a very different story to go behind it as well. The names that I have given them, also give them a deeper meaning in my personal opinion.

Some of these drawings I did not do in class but in my spare free time.

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Eye Graphite Pencil Kalena Sapp | Grade 12

Bio on page . . . 8

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Space Girl Mixed media Natalie Miller | Garde 10 I like drawing in my free time, even though its taken 3 years to get where I am, I’m happy with it.

Little Flaws Graphite Pencil Ginnel Camacho de Leon | Grade 12 My art exhibits the beauty found on faces. I believe that every person’s facial features are beautiful. In my artwork, I included very distinct facial features (lips and nose). These represent the different facial characteristics found on very different people. In my perspective, every individual is beautiful in their own unique ways especially when it comes to their physical appearance.

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Author Spotlight: Courtney Brown the name i was given standing tall and alone i have a name you know, so sweetie and honey darling and dear makes my throat go dry, eyes full of fear. i have a name. not that chick or that whore not that slut or the girl next door but again & again i am cutie and darling and honey and sweetheart and i, i have a name. i am proud. and content. i am full. i am me. hey beautiful

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hey hot stuff mami love from men on the street, at work, in a club i do have a name i reassure myself, i have a name. sweetheart i hear once more as a man, unknown, yells across the floor so, hot stuff, my boss whispers while shutting the door my throat clenches shaken to the core again, filled with fear i close my eyes and see my name and wonder i must have a name, and it must be mine .

Author Spotlight C. Brown

how do you love me broken? a dark so deep a sky so clear skin so soft when you are near and it is here and it is now that you think why and you think how how in the world? how in their heart? does this human love me when i am so apart? apart from my thoughts, reality, fear, apart from my body, oh! how do i start?

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Author Spotlight C. Brown

poetic obsession well this is overrated old school outdated trash consuming my tiny heart overwhelming, tearing me apart numbers on lines numbers in my head i refuse to count to count, i dread, would mean a rigid form of art with restrictions, rules, and a regimen so how must i express myself, for those are your thoughts, instead.

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are you here to control my love? my thoughts? my head? before you enter, I must warn it is amusing, full of scorn, protruding thoughts that run as I lie awake in bed and write and write and write and write till the world presumes me dead.

Author Spotlight C. Brown

untitled i look into those eyes and my heart, it skips a beat a heart so fragile & it is mine a thought so wicked yet so divine for in years past i would have done exactly what i’ve liked and reached up on my toes and looked into those eyes and hitch my breath & leap and soar and cry and kiss and laugh and roar

a first that was forgotten a first that didn’t last for i was gone in record time and you were just an ash rekindled, reborn! shouted my heart but i knew, i knew we’d always remain apart but then there are those few brief seconds when you look into my eyes and my world stops, my heart skips a beat and again it thinks, you’re mine

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Too Much Dwelling on What Has Been Acrylic Courtney Brown

Moms and Their Bellies: A Series Acrylic Courtney Brown

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Courtney Brown Grade 12 My name is Courtney Brown, and I am an athlete, activist, and artist within Summit County. I am from Isabela, Puerto Rico, where much of my art was reflective of the world I grew up in; and still is now.

Moving to Summit at the age of twelve drastically changed what I represent, socially, in my art. When I am not creating art, I play volleyball obsessively, ski, advocate for healthy lifestyles in Summit County youth, and appreciate other artists’ work.

I have been creating art since I learned how to write my own name. It has always been a part of my life.

The aim of my art is to address impacts of racism, gender-based violence, and other injustices suffered by humans. In many ways, I present the idea of ignorance towards such topics and different portrayals and exploitation of sex in the media. I hope that my art may show that I and other youth are worthy of addressing such topics of violence, hate, and gender-based discrimination through promoting love and acceptance.

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Snowboarding Micro Pen Jadyn Dalrymple | Grade 8 24

My name is Jadyn Dalrymple, and I’m in 8th grade at Summit Middle School. I have been snowboarding since I was 7 years old and competing since I was 8. My favorite competition is the BoarderX race.

Lover Colored Pencil Madison Ayn Harlan | Grade 12 Bio on page . . . 14

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A Splashing Winter Digital Photography Victoria Nickel | Grade 12 This semester has been my introduction into photography, I had not worked with professional cameras until this year. My work has related mostly to landscapes and vibrant natural colors; but I branched out with this photo, putting it in black and white.

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The Age of Age Itself

By Kaitlin Tufano “A mature person is one who does not think only in absolutes, who is able to be objective even when deeply stirred emotionally, who has learned that there is both good and bad in all people and all things, and who walks humbly and deals charitably.” - Eleanor Roosevelt. What do you think it means to be a mature person?

Maturity in relation to age is the time in an individual’s life when they begin to make educated and justifiable decisions. It is rare to aspirate to maturity. In the entirety of a lifetime, few ever achieve or have self-encounterment. Qualifications are tough to pass and even tougher to stick to with every decision.

Willpower is the ultimate testament to one’s maturity. Whether each individual can stay true to, or even ever obtain the satisfaction and yield of maturity are the ultimate testaments.

Maturity is an industrial metal bridge; sudden along the path of life toward adulthood.

The bridge overpasses a treacherous river of poor decisions, peer pressure, selfish acts, and toxic behavior. Few people are successful in crossing the bridge to the other side and staying there. Oftentimes an individual’s ability to make mature decisions starts as they begin to cross the bridge of maturity. This is where the majority of mature decisions are formulated and tested.

However, tables can turn, resulting in a down fall into the freezing cold, and soaking wet river of immaturity. Some individuals never even make it to, on, or across the bridge.

These individuals swan dive into the raging waters—opposing and fighting the current— struggling to stay afloat, unaware entirely of the easy path: the better path, which is the path of maturity.

Varying levels of maturity do exist. No one

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person is undeniably wholesome and mature.

Many characteristics exhibit maturity. These include selflessness, prominent decision making, purity, and encountering the inevitable open-mindedly. Achieving selflessness is the code to the vaulted lock of maturing into adulthood. Disrespect and ignorance are forces of selfish reasoning; it is toxic behavior—toxins never yield positive results. If an individual often makes selfish decisions, there is no possibility of maturity, as the cycle of making these decisions is perpetual.

Making sound decisions takes clarity and courage, taking into consideration ethics and critical judgement. Purity is viable to maturity, revolving upon principles of staying clear—avoiding and distancing from impure forces such as drugs and violence. In life, bad things and impure forces are inevitable; challenging them open-mindedly is essential. An open mind requires the use of a multitude of thoughts dependent upon the situation at hand; including thinking empathically, practicing goodwill, and resisting temptation.

Ostensibly one’s evolution to maturation is difficult and sometimes overbearing. It can be simplified into knowing what’s right and wrong; then acting upon those vanities without hesitation. The bridge is strenuous and not the most traveled path—implying difficulty among teenagers in correlation to peer decisions and discipline. That’s where willpower comes in. The will to stick to self-morality and choose the pathway independently is the bottom line.

True maturity is gained—never given. The age of age itself is up to each individual. Comingof-age isn’t age itself, but rather yielded and fought for. Maturity will never come unless critical self-evaluation occurs and is acted and moved upon.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR I am in 12th grade at Summit High School. I grew up in Golden, Colorado then moved to Silverthorne, Colorado last year. I love to ski, hike, and be outdoors as much as I can.

Koala Arcylic Matthew Shaffer | Grade 11 Bio on page . . . 3

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The Baddest Beach Arcylic Maya Zook | Grade 10 My name is Maya Zook. I am a Sophomore at Summit High School and this is my first year of painting. I enjoy art because it’s really fun to see what it turns out like in the end.

My favorite media is acrylic paint because I think it looks really nice and smooth on a canvas. I also love that if I mess up, I can let the paint dry and paint over it with a different color. I feel like art has really helped me escape and just focus on what Im doing in that moment and time and nothing else. It’s a really good distraction for me.

The Coyote

By Logan Ellison He prowls across in the pale moonlight Tracking the prey, preparing to strike The wind slowly whispers through the trees As he howls to his brother, the moon He crouches in the tall grass and springs to attack A squeak of defeat rings through the night The coyote’s clan will not go hungry tonight.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR I like to read, write and draw. I have a sister and a dog.

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Neuro View Micro Pen Faith Beal | Grade 12

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I was born and raised in Summit County, but after middle school my family moved many times. Moving around definitely created some internal conflicts for me, and I have used art as a healthy way to cope with and express difficulties that I have faced.

I love to draw crazy patterns that may seam mindless and chaotic, but to me each pattern on the paper helps me to organize my feelings and thoughts. I always fill my paper, and I don’t like to leave a lot of empty space because in life everything that a person goes through collides and flows together. Issues build upon each other and create the complex thing that is the human experience.

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Sueños Compartidos Anonymous Los padres inmigrantes son aquellos que cruzan esa frontera para ver a sus hijos cruzar el escenario de la preparatoria con una hermosa negra toga brillante y un birrete.

Lo más importante, con una sonrisa en la cara diciendo “¡Mama, lo logré!”.

Miro a mi padre y veo a un hombre trabajador que trabaja duro y llega a casa sudoroso y sucio, pero para mí, ese hombre sigue siendo mi padre, no un inmigrante mexicano que roba empleos. Desafortunadamente para él, han sido los años más agravantes de su vida. Él ha tratado tanto para sacar lo mejor de sí mismo y hacer cosas como padre inmigrante. Mi héroe, el hombre que ha sido mi ejemplo para seguir adelante tiene que irse un día, el hombre al que fui a casa para mostrarle mis logros. Anhelante, tiene que irse un día. Tiene que dejar todo atrás por un error.

Cuando escuché las noticias sobre la corte de inmigración, todo tipo de pensamientos pasaron por mi cabeza, realmente no sabía cómo sería la vida sin un padre. No sabía cómo iba atender a clases al día siguiente cuando mi padre este en camino a su ciudad natal.

No creo que la inmigración sea un castigo sino una idea que la gente tiene. Si su caso no tiene solución, entonces no hay solución, lo tendrán que enviar de regreso a su país de origen. La inmigración es la separación de familias felices y que están en desarrollo.

Las familias están en camino para mejorar sus vidas a partir de su pasado. Mi padre comenzó de cero para convertirse en la persona que es hoy, pero no se ha convertido. Todo su esfuerzo fuese un desperdicio si lo enviaran de regreso a su país de origen, porque se esfuerza mucho para que su familia salga adelante en un país extranjero. La idea de que enviaran a mi padre a 34

México, estaba cumpliendo el sueño de otra persona; no el de mi padre.

Como hija de padres inmigrantes, crecí rápidamente en la mujer que soy hoy. Sin un padre como Juan, siento que no podría tener la misma suerte de ser criada por alguien más. Su fortaleza para seguir adelante me dio la esperanza de que algún día seré la enfermera que siempre he soñado. Su vulnerabilidad me ha enseñado a cuidar y ser integral con los demás. Crecí estando cerca de mi padre pensando que nada como esto arruinaría la relación que tenemos o simplemente la idea de que él estaría allí todos los días. Pero estaba equivocada. Habrá un día en que el tendrá que decir adiós a todas las peleas de almohadas, parrilladas y esas pequeñas peleas, saludos y despedidas de la mañana a la noche, en general decir adiós a su única y mayor hija.

Nunca me aproveché de cómo me criaron, pero me aproveché de lo bueno que son conmigo. Juan, mi padre siempre ha sido el único hombre al que siempre perseguiré además del Elotero. Lo creas o no, perseguiría a mi padre y seguiría todos los planes que ha hecho a lo largo de los años. Algún día, tendré que aceptar que el “Echale ganas, hija!”, la frase que mi padre siempre me deciá valió la pena. Mi sueño es ver a mi padre con lágrimas en los ojos, llorando de alegría porque su hija finalmente lo logró.

Pero, sin embargo, nos trastorna tanto a mí como a mi madre que él ni siquiera podría estar aquí para su sueño. Todo lo que ha hecho desde el día que cruzó el alambre de púas y tocó tierra estadounidense a las cosas que ha hecho hasta ahora demuestra que nuestros padres harán cualquier cosa para asegurarse de que tengamos más éxito y mejores que ellos.

Look up Abby Daugherty | Grade 12 Bio on page . . .128

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Artist

Calista 36

Luetkens 37

Artist Spotlight Calista

Just a Touch of Love Oil paint

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This piece is very specific to the way people feel when someone they love enters their life. The original portrait is depicted in black and white, whereas the other person’s hand is in red. This shows the way love can bring new color and light into your life that may have been hard to understand or find before.

Artist Spotlight Calista

Dominick Oil Paint

Dominick has been my school bus driver for as long as I can remember, and I have always admired his adoration and understanding for the students he transports to and from school everyday. I thought painting him would be the ideal sign of my appreciation for him.

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Rylee

Oil Paints

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better connection with my family and myself.

a way I haven’t with anyone else. By painting her, I believe I have found a

not only looks like me, but I have always been able to connect with her in

Rylee is my younger cousin, and has always been a mirror of myself. She

Artist Spotlight Calista

lenge. As for the clouds, I had also been practicing the technique for their unique texture using water soluble oil paints.

typically stick to people; however, I thought a dog would be the perfect chal-

This dog was an adorable way I could expand my horizons as a painter. I

Artist Spotlight Calista

Dog in the Clouds

Oil Paints

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Artist Spotlight Calista

Frederick Vance Oil Paints Frederick Vance is my great grandfather. He has always been an idol for me because he was a well known architect in Oklahoma, as well as a painter, like me. His work has always been displayed around my grandma’s house, and I was inspired to carry on his talent.

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Artist Spotlight Calista

Cameron Boyce Oil Paints

Cameron Boyce’s passing was heartbreaking for many people, especially those of my age group. He is depicted with a halo and angel wings in order to lighten the tragic events, as well as highlight a project from class on “things that fly,” my choice being angels.

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Calista Luetkens Art is the way I’m able to bring beauty to others, and to my own life. I paint all different sorts of people in order to capture the experiences, life, and emotion that is portrayed in every face. I also paint eyes a lot. I was born and raised in Summit County which has an impact on some of my paintings too. My medium of choice is water soluble oil paints.

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ice

By Freya Schlaefer it is the dangerous slickness hidden under the light snow blanketing the road. it is the light glinting off the sharp, shimmering stalactites dripping from the edges of roofs. it is the pattern of frost littering the glass of windows, painstakingly crafted by some elf, stealing away into the night. it is the hard casing clutching the heart in the chest of an unfeeling, quiet boy.

it is the wall you see in her eyes when she turns from you scorn radiating from her like cold from the snow. yet all ice must melt crack shatter fall soft warmth must always return to the hearth and the earth must grow pliant once more.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR My name is Freya Schlaefer. I am a senior this year (Class of 2019). I enjoy playing hockey and acting, and I am interested in writing because I have always loved to read, and writing is sort of a next step up for me. Freya was a recipient of the Rotary Writing Scholarship in 2019, and therefore selected to be featured in this publication as well.

Couldn’t Tell You Watercolor Tucker Garbe | Grade 12 My name Tucker Garbe, and I’m a senior in high school. This is my second art class at SHS. I’m not really much of an artist, but the main reason I took this class is because I love art.

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Apathy and Empathy

By Mandy Clawson July

WANTED: Roommate between 21-26 years old with a job: -Willing to share a bedroom -Can split $1500 monthly rent -Doesn’t mind lots of movies/tv shows playing -bedding is provided (disassembled bunk) Call me for inquiries: (503) 684-2794

My name is Kaleb Andrews

Valeria Lovett read through the ad carefully. She was new to the Portland area and needed a place to stay. Though Kaleb seemed to be a guy, she was desperate for somewhere to live and knew self-defense if he tried to mess with her. She just needed to convince this guy that she would get a job as soon as she could, instead of just making him pay for both of them. At times like this, she fell back on her life motto: Instead of asking why, ask why not? She dialed the number.

Kaleb Andrews was binge watching Sherlock on Netflix for the seventh time when his phone rang, displaying an unknown number. Hopeful that this was a roomie applicant, he picked up the phone eagerly.

“Kaleb Andrews, how can I help you?” he asked. A girl on the other end answered.

“Yeah, my name’s Valeria Lovett, and I saw your ad for a roommate. Is that still available?” she asked. Kaleb had to stifle an overjoyed yelp. He’d been waiting since what felt like forever, desperately trying to find someone to split the cost with. With the current expense, he was barely living week to week. Clearing his throat, he responded,

“Yes, it is. Would you like to set up a meeting to see the place?” he asked, even more hopeful. The girl on the other end hesitated, then replied,

“Yes, there’s just one problem,” she started.

Kaleb deflated, but let her continue. “I’m super new to Portland. I got in like yesterday, so I don’t have a job yet, but I will get one as soon as possible. Is that okay with you?” Kaleb paused, mulling it over. She wouldn’t be able to pay rent immediately, but she sounded like she actually planned on getting a job.

Making up his mind, he answered.

“Yeah, you’re new, and I really need a roomie.

Can you meet me at the address in 20 minutes? I’ll text it to you.” The girl said yes, and said she’d save his number. Kaleb, also wanting to save her number, asked,

“Valeria Lovett, right?” She confirmed. “Okay, see you in 20, Valeria Lovett.”

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August

Valeria struggled to produce her keys to get into the apartment she shared with Kaleb. Her arms were full of groceries, it was difficult. Kaleb should be getting home soon, and she’d hoped to get the food put away before he arrived. She liked making him happy, and it was an incredibly exhilarating experience for her for one reason and one reason only: Valeria was a sociopath, which meant she didn’t experience sympathy or regret. She’d never cared about what other people thought of her, but for some reason, she cared about what he thought. Kaleb was really nice, though he seemed to be really sympathetic, which was sort of odd for her to comprehend.

She understood that some people were just like that, but he seemed to be on another level.

Finally, she got the door open, but all her effort seemed to be in vain as Kaleb came in the door about two minutes later. His face lit up when he saw her, though she suspected he was just happy to see that she’d gone shopping. He’d been relieved when she’d gotten a job as a hostess at a pub nearby, and she tried to chip in where she could.

“Hey Sapphire,” he said, making his way to the living room. He’d started calling her that when they met, as he pointed out that her dark hair made a ‘beautiful’ contrast to her sapphire blue eyes. Kaleb, in her opinion, wasn’t so bad looking himself, with blonde hair and light blue eyes. She greeted him back. If she felt normal emotions, she liked to think she would’ve felt nervous, as she planned to tell him that she was a sociopath tonight. It was mainly to prevent him from being weirded out by her indifference to things, but she also felt he should know.

She considered him a friend, though it was odd.

She hadn’t had a real friend throughout college; she focused much more on her studies.

Sitting down on the couch opposite Kaleb, she asked him to pause his show. When he did, she confessed.

“Kaleb, I have something to tell you.” she paused, searching his face for an initial reaction.

When she saw nothing but anticipation, she continued.

“I’m a sociopath, which means I pretty much don’t feel emotions as much or as intensely as others. Sometimes, hardly at all,” she said, nonchalantly. His eyes widened. Please don’t kick me out, she thought. But his answer surprised her.

“Dude, no way! I’m an empath! We’re like totally polar opposites.” he giggled. “Empaths like me

literally feel what others are feeling. Aha!” he said, and without giving Valeria time to react, he said,

“That’s why I feel so relaxed at home! You don’t feel things, so I don’t feel what you feel! Oh my god, you have no idea how exhausting it is to sympathise with other people all day, every day.”

Valeria just looked at him. He turned to her and smiled.

“I’ve never felt calmer than when I’m with you,” he said, turning back to the TV.

“Mind if I turn my show back on?”

September

Kaleb watched his roommate carefully. Valeria was reading a book on the couch. They’d worked out a deal that on days when she didn’t work, he’d limit his shows so she’d have some quiet. He didn’t mind, as she only had Tuesdays off. She’d lived with him for two months, and they hadn’t fought yet, so things were going smoothly.

But she was beginning to observe that Kaleb was having some internal conflicts: he was falling in love with her. The only problem was that she was a sociopath, and he doubted that his feelings would be requited. Today, she thought he might confess.

She trusted him enough to tell him about her thing; he should let her know his feelings as well. He stood in front of her and swallowed hard, trying to psych himself up.

“Valeria, I-uh, don’t quite, uh, know how to say this but um… I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Valeria only looked at him. Then, she sort of grinned, chuckling under her breath.

“Ha-ha,” she said sarcastically, “You’re in love with me, sure.” she snorted. Kaleb’s breath hitched.

She thinks it’s a prank, he thought sadly. In an effort to explain, he said,

“No, really, I can chill out around you; I can’t get that with anyone else I- I’m totally in love with you,” he choked out. Valeria only looked confused, then annoyed, then angry.

Oh no…

“No,” said Valeria firmly, “you love what I do for you, like a drug. I take your feelings away, and you’re addicted to that, not me. Don’t waste your time,” she spat. Desperate, Kaleb tried to convince her, but she cut him off.

“Kaleb, you don’t understand,” she said, exasperated, “I’m a sociopath. I. Can’t. Love you. It’s impossible.” Kaleb’s heart shattered at her tone. She wasn’t trying to convince him; she really believed it. She was stating it as a fact. Kaleb held back tears and sighed.

“It’s possible for anyone to love,” he said, then retreated to their room. Valeria slept on the couch that night.

October

Kaleb had been moping around the apartment for a month. He still talked to her and did his normal routine, but she saw that he didn’t enjoy things as much as he used to. He barely paid attention to the season finale of Sherlock. That was when Valeria really knew something was wrong. She decided to confront him about it. When she asked, his answer was as nonchalant as she was.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked. He looked at her indifferently.

“You don’t- sorry, can’t love me, and I’m just going to have to live with it. But I’m happy if you are,” he said, making a feeble attempt at a smile. He sounds like he’s turning into a sociopath himself, thought Valeria, and suddenly she was hit with this wave that felt like a punch in the gut. She doubled over, holding her stomach. Searching for what could be happening, she realized it was panic. She was so terrified of Kaleb, bright, sunshine-y Kaleb, turning into an apathetic bean bag like her, that it hit her all at once. Kaleb stood over her, incredibly concerned.

“Sapphire? What’s wrong, why are you so afraid?” he asked, panicked. Her heart did what she’d call ‘skipped a beat’ when he called her Sapphire. He hadn’t done that in a while.

Gasping, she said, “You- you made me feel,” she sputtered. Kaleb almost laughed.

“I told you it was possible,” he responded.

“But what on Earth are you so afraid of? Your fear is almost overwhelming,” he said. Valeria, looking at him properly, noticed goosebumps on his arms and his hands shaking. She answered him quietly.

“I don’t want you to be like me.”

November

Valeria approached Kaleb. She hadn’t had any more feeling issues since last month, but she almost wanted to experience it again, just to feel something. He sat at their small table, eating a bowl of cereal for his breakfast. She stopped for a moment to take in his appearance. His hair was ruffled from the bed, his eyes shone in the light, and the thin tee shirt he wore really outlined his lean body. His smile was goofy and crooked when he bid her good morning.

“Kaleb,” she said, sitting down opposite him, “we need to have a discussion.” Kaleb stopped, looking at her, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his open mouth. Putting it down, he shrugged and gestured for her to go on. She took a breath, then said it.

“I want to try this ‘love’ thing with you.” It came out quick and jumbled, but Kaleb understood, judging from the dumbfounded look on his face.

“Valeria, you’re a sociopath. You can’t love me.

Those are your words,” he said, sighing. She nodded, looking down at her lap.

“Besides,” he continued, “I’m not in love with

47

you, I’m in love with what you do to me.” Valeria felt a twinge of sadness and guilt, which made her wince.

“I thought I did love you, but then you pointed that out, and I don’t know anymore. How can you be sure I love you if I don’t even know myself?” he asked, sadness showing on his face, his voice breaking.

“You’ve been moping around feeling bad about not truly loving me. From what I’ve read, if you didn’t love me, you would’ve moved on already,” Valeria said simply. She hadn’t meant to sound so indifferent, so she quickly kept talking.

“I’ve been doing some research, and what I found says that part of loving someone is loving who you can be around them. You can relax with me. I can feel around you.” she said, trying to sound a little more emotional. Kaleb only looked at her.

She could tell he still wasn’t really buying it. To add

the “cherry on top,” she finished her proposition with,

“I’m new, I’m no good at this. But Kaleb Andrews, I swear, I will learn to love you.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR I’m a Colorado native, but I grew up in Arkansas.

I love to read, write, draw, and cook. I’m thinking about going into Criminal Justice for a career, but I’ll see where the world takes me. I have two dogs and a ferret.

art

By Josh Smith musical art creative art drawing kinds of art art is something made with time and care you find it everywhere illusion art colorful art there is art that you can wear

snow art realism art impressionism art surrealism is my favorite cubism art outside art inside art as well

graffiti art peaceful art art that’s pretty fair

so be inspired get a paper, or some clay, or something...anything and make your art in its own way art

molding art carving art art that makes you stare art is done by everyone

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

language arts sketched art art that is nature skull art painted art try it - it takes a while 48

Josh is 11 years old and in the 5th grade at Silverthorne Elementary. His favorite subject is science.

He enjoys skiing, swimming, tennis and cub scouts. Josh has 3 brothers and a new puppy. He hopes to be in the Air Force.

Are They Watching Me? Oil Pastel AnnaRose Craig | Grade 12 My name is AnnaRose Craig, and I am a senior at Summit High School. I have lived with my brother and parents in Summit County for my entire life. I have been making art and taking art classes since I was very young. My favorite medium is painting

because it allows me to express myself creatively and freely, which can be very therapeutic. I try to focus on the artistic process rather than what I am trying to create as an end result, which helps me to be present in the process.

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Space Invasion Mirco Pen and Watercolor Leif Joseph Anderson | Grade 9 Because I grew up in Summit County, I have constantly been exposed to nature. This presence of nature always appears into my artwork. The artwork that I create is most often abstract, and usually interpreted in my own style which is cartoon. I personally believe that art is a way to explain what words cannot.

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Green Patriot Posters

This spread of pages is deicated to the Green Patriot Posters. These are posters that students at SHS have created supporting climate change and promoting sustanability. The guidelines of this project were to bring awareness to the current issues of our climate.

There was a local artist contest based on the idea of the Green Patriot Posters. BreckCreate held a contest for high school students.

The poster on the bottom left was made by Jasmine Laube, won first place in the contest and got a $100 reward.

The poster in the bottom right was made by Anna Vaine, won second place in the contest and got a $75 reward.

The poster on the next page on the middle bottom made by Regina Jaine, won third place and got a $50 reward.

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Artists from left to right Caroline Fischer Cashema Hemans Charolette Gunther Tayrn Wade Maya Zook Haley Davis Regina Jaine (Won third place in the high school contest) Pk Vinzce

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The Cavern of Gods

By Katerina Lee A man will go his entire life searching for fulfillment. Some never find it, and some come away from it changed in a way they had never expected. Fulfillment: a vague word handed out to optimists as lollipops are handed to children. We seize upon it, devoting time to it without considering the meaning until afterward. Men devour it, teenagers dream of it, and old codgers wish that they had found it. For me, fulfillment was the label I gave to what I sought, but it was only a small portion of what I found.

Since the beginning of western culture, we have sought for our history, something to tie us to a world before, something to ground ourselves, and to prove that we are more than just specks of dust in an unforgiving universe. This insatiable need to know the past carried on through history passed down from the world of Europe to its cultural child in Mexico.

city but also to search the surrounding area for evidence of Mayan presence. I arrived in June with a handpicked team of graduate students from the university I taught at and was warmly received by the site director. In no time we were scouring the land around the city. For days we walked through the jungle, looking for a hint that any piece of ground would be worthy of excavation. Our hours were spent hiking, looking for snakes, and avoiding the dark corners which every dense forest presents. Days turned to weeks. We began camping for several days at a time before returning to the city, occasionally setting up long enough to excavate an area and prove that there was nothing there.

Weeks turned to months, and we had found almost nothing of importance. Our efforts had been rewarded only with dust and dirt. It was with disappointment that we had just abandoned our latest failed exIn my youth, I was an avid learner; devourcavation and were hiking back to Chichén ing stories, legends, and the true stories Itzá when we found it. A water break reof history. It was unexpected, then, when I followed my passion to study anthropology quested by a student who leaned on a rock wall quickly turning into a celebration and history in Mexico City. My career flourished, and with every passing year I became among a group of academics who had worked hard for a discovery of any kind. more devoted to my studies of the Mayan culture in the Yucatán peninsula. My name Little more than a mile from the main is Víctor Segovia Pinto, and this is my tale of city, we found Balamkú, “The Cave of the Jaguar God.” The cavern was immediately search, discovery, excitement, despair, and recognizable as a site of Mayan importance. fulfillment.

There were carvings in the cliff face lightly covered with lichen and greenery. Just

**************** inside I could see traces of artifacts: small pottery shards half buried by sediment.

There is a now famous city in the Yucatán I immediately sent word to our patron in peninsula; the city of Chichén Itzá. As a Chichén Itzá via two of my graduate sturelic of Mayan culture which is beautifully dents, telling him of our discovery and preserved and full of cultural importance, asking him to furnish the two students with it draws archaeologists from around the extra supplies. In the meantime, the other world. In 1965, I was presented with the students and I began to set up a temporary opportunity to not only go to the famed 54

camp at the cave entrance. Four small tents with an additional tent for shade in the center created our own mark of civilization in the midst of an untamed jungle.

Just before nightfall the students I had sent ahead returned to our cavern bearing rope, flashlights, archaeological tools and a number of other small items. That night we planned our first expedition into the cave, the seriousness of planning quickly dissolving into an impromptu celebration.

At first light, our preparations began. It had been decided that I, as the most experienced archaeologist of the group, would enter the cave while the rest would remain outside (there was scarcely enough room for one man to crawl on his stomach, let alone multiple men). If I ever found anything of archaeological importance, I would return and guide the students to it.

One student would remain outside holding the rope to ensure that I would not lose my way. After a short period of time, however, it was determined that the cave was too large for this method to work for long, and so I began to map the cave instead.

Days were spent in this manner as I mapped the cave, only venturing forward as I became familiar with the paths of the cavern and could be sure that I would not lose myself within the seemingly infinite maze. I was certain that every corner held a new mystery, a discovery of immense value, something more than the carvings on the wall outside. On the seventh day, I was rewarded.

I had been crawling through the cave system for what I measured to be three or four hours before I emerged in a suddenly large cavern. Among a multitude of stalactites scattered across the floor were Mayan bowls, statues, incense burners, plates and so much more.

I stood up shining my flashlight across

the floor in wonder and excitement, but I scarcely had time to process what I was seeing because in that same moment the walls around me began to shift. It was as if paint was flaking from the cave walls, revealing something which had always been behind them.

Light sprang into the room as torches appeared on the walls. Dark rock shifted into carved brick as beautiful as the Mayan pyramids. Stalagmites and stalactites reached one another and formed columns, sturdy and square.

Before I was aware of what had occurred, the transformation was complete, and I stood in a room which looked as if it had been finished yesterday. Artifacts sat lightly on the ground all around me, renewed and painted in vibrant reds and blues.

“I thought you might enjoy this place as it had been before,” a soft purring voice said behind me, stirring me from my shock. I whipped my head around only to be confronted with a sight nearly as strange as the shifting walls. A jaguar sat calmly on his haunches looking at me with a cocked head, waiting for me to respond.

“It’s beautiful is it not?” he said, prompting me. “Yes. It truly is, but I must ask, who are you?”

The jaguar laughed jovially. “I am the jaguar god of the people whom you have labeled the Maya. I have made myself known because you trespassed and I would like to give you a chance before I kill you.”

I was startled at how calmly he spoke of killing me. He laughed and gave me the gift of seeing this cavern as it was, and yet he threatened my life.

“You see,” he continued, “I sensed you had entered this cave several days ago. I was intrigued by your curiosity for culture, but I

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will tell you that it is one of my many duties to protect this sacred place. I would ask you to explain why you have come here.”

“It is a long story,” I said, bowing my head to the god. “Then come. Sit, and we will speak.”

Drinking chocolate in intricately painted mugs materialized in front of the jaguar and he gestured with a paw to the place in front of him. With that, I began to explain the concept of archaeology. Everything from the concept itself, to my involvement in it and how I had come to be here.

As I spoke, animals filtered into the cave and watched me with rapture, enough for me to be convinced that they too were gods. A large cobra sat coiled upon itself in from of the opening through which I had entered, its head lifted to regard me. Several parrots and rabbits grouped on the edge.

Another jaguar and a black panther also appeared. By the time I had finished my explanation the room was crowded. I finished speaking, and the jaguar stretched out and then looked towards the sidelines before returning his gaze to me.

“Your people are grave robbers. You call your graves sacred and yet desecrate ours to remove our people and examine their bones. You call yourselves explorers of a noble cause, and yet you disregard our ancient laws on which nobility is based. You seek knowledge, and yet you ignore all wisdom. You seek to protect, and yet you kill.

All this I know from the time before, when your people first visited mine,” the jaguar paused at this, looking to his fellows.

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“Despite all this, I sensed an innocence within you. You exude curiosity and it was for this reason that I allowed you to speak.

Do you truly seek to understand our culture and nothing more?” I lowered my head, feeling guilt for the first time for tracing my roots to Europe, “Yes. That is what I wish.”

The jaguar looked once again to his fellows,

and I felt as if a conversation was taking place from which I was excluded. After reaching what I believed was a conclusion, the jaguar spoke.

“Very well. I will allow you to continue your research, but with several stipulations. You will remain in this room for only one hour, after which you will depart. You will keep anything you learn to yourself and your fellows outside of this cave. When you leave Balamkú, you will not return and you will seal the entrance. We reward curiosity, but we cannot have this place harmed. This room is sacred to us, and to the people who lived here long ago. Archaeology, as you have explained it, I may support, but I will not permit you to remove the relics from here. If you do, you are no better than a thief or grave robber.”

I felt immense relief wash over me as I realized I had been holding my breath. Up until that point I had done my best to stifle my fear, hoping that the jaguar would not have killed me. Despite his relaxed demeanor, however, I feel certain that had my answers to his questions been unsatisfactory, he would have. I quickly expressed my thankfulness to him.

Slowly the other gods drained the room until only the initial jaguar remained. Just as he was about to leave, I felt the urge to ask one more question.

“You said you rewarded curiosity. Will you explain your culture to me?” The jaguar turned and I could almost see a smile on his face.

“Certainly,” he responded warmly. The two of us sat together in that room for the allocated hour as I questioned him about the relics, the people, and the cave itself. When my time was spent, he guided me back to the entrance of the cave before disappearing back into the darkness. I watched him as he went, his paws padding silently, his

tail swishing softly. I felt at that moment, joy for having been granted such an opportunity, but also sadness for never being able to return.

I greeted my graduate students and told them the story. I’m certain that more than one of them thought that I had gone mad, but they helped me to seal the entrance out of loyalty to me and the year we had spent together. That night I returned to Chichén Itzá with a story of failure to tell the site director, who was more than disappointed but was understanding.

My time in the Cave of the Jaguar was shortlived, but my life pursuit was reaffirmed, and I continued to research the lives and culture of the Maya. There is a power residing in that cave, one which I feel humbled to have interacted with. Despite this, I feel at the same time that there are few who would have obtained the jaguar’s mercy in today’s world of the hateful, greedy and power-hungry.

*************

The cave of Balamkú is a true place located just south of Chichén Itzá. Víctor was also a true person who discovered the cave in 1966. He, however, sealed the cave entrance and left very little record that the cave ever existed. In March of 2019, the cave was rediscovered and contains over 150 untouched Mayan relics. This has been my attempt to explain why Víctor sealed and mysteriously left the cave.

Untitled Digital Photography

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Brady Platt | Grade 9

My name is Katerina Lee. I am a senior at Summit High School (2019) and will be attending Colorado State University next year as a biology major. I have been an avid reader as long as I can remember with a particular interest in the fantasy genre. When I got old enough to understand the structures of what I was reading, I began writing and imitating the styles of my favorite authors. Katerina was a recipient of the Rotary Writing Scholarship in 2019, and therefore selected to be featured in this publication as well.

I love to ski.

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The Wind

By Eli Klasnick Flowing through the bamboo forest, their tall trunks towering.

My gentle blow brings the leaves down showering.

I glide in and out, around their bark.

The sun comes down, shining white and stark.

RISE UP! Acrylic and Sharpie Jonah Alan Charles Mocatta | Grade 9 Hi My name Is Jonah Mocatta, I am currently 14 years of age and I am attending and studying at Summit High school . I was born In Meza, Arizona and My favorite hobbies and sports are Drawing painting, Soccer, Running and Spending time in the wonderful outdoors.

For me art is the most satisfying form of anything, I can learn new techniques and inquire knew ideas to create pieces of art that I have earned to make. Art can express any form of emotion for example one might want to express their love for nature by painting a blue sky on a farm in which roses and flowers bloom in the spring. Whenever I create a piece of art that satisfies my taste it is the greatest sense of self fulfillment and accomplishment.

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I whistle soft and gentle, making a tune in flow.

The trees stand still, fast and peaceful they grow.

Knowing that I have to go my own way, I continue on.

My breeze carries my song.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Eli is 10 years old and lives in Breckenridge, CO. He loves to ski and play football. He is learning to speak Spanish and his favorite song is the remix of Burning Down the House by AJR.

Dragons

By Tess Levin Soaring in the wide blue sky Wings beating to get high Scales glistening in the sun Muscles rippling when they run

Red Trees Watercolor Collin Doran | Grade 10 My name is Collin Doran and I am a sophomore. I have lived in Summit County my entire life and that is one reason why I like painting things in nature such as mountains. My favorite medium was water color because I found it easier to use and I could create more textures with it.

Fire like molten gold Wings shining as they unfold Serrated claws scraping the ground Still trying not to be found Curving horns on top of their heads Scales as hard as lead Sleek tail curving through Most amazing to you

ABOUT THE AUTHOR I am in 5th grade at the The Educational Sojourn School. I attend the weekly Writing Club through BreckCreate. I like reading books of all kinds, especially fantasy. I ski four days a week.

And I just really like writing.

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Sports!

Graphite Pencil Lucas Sudduth | Grade 10 Sports have have had a huge impact on my life. From playing little league baseball when I was seven to watching Monday Night Football with my dad, sports have followed me through it all. Because of sports, I have learn things that will stick with me forever.

I have created memories that someday, I could pass down to future generations. This drawing is a representation of all those memories that I’ve had.

With that, I plan on sharing them with others so that they can create memories of their own.

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Time Travel

By Molly Nikkel A silent nod from the head technician was all I needed. The joy and nervous excitement fluttered in my stomach as I stepped into the time machine. The large metal contraption clanked and churred as the door swung itself shut behind me, sealing me in.

Thud.

Darkness swallowed me. I dare not touch the machine itself, knowing I’d break it.

The noises grew louder, echoing through the emptiness of space around me, within me. My chest tightened, the nerves that once were small grew, threatening to eat me alive if I wasn’t careful. 12 hours. 12 hours was all that needed to be done to ensure the machine worked.

Gobble Gum Goblin Colored Pencil Payton R Ferrari | Grade 12 I am a very creative person that likes to spend my free time outside ether skating, snowboarding, or mountain biking, most of my drawing come from ether events that have happened or are sparked from ideas of other pieces of art.

Clang.

The door swung open, its hinges creaking. Creaking? The sound reminded me of nails on a chalkboard, scraping the surface in agony. I stepped through the time-machine, my once nervous excitement falling as my stomach flipped. I stumbled for a second, looking around.

At first I saw nothing. Then the blood.

The pungent stench of death hung in the air as body after body slowly found their way into my vision. The corpse, dismantled and shredded beyond recognition belonged to no one and to everyone. The technicians, the hope of the future, me.

The 12 hours had wreaked havoc. But why?

Drip.

I jumped, turning around quickly. My heart was pounding out of my chest, threatening to turn me into one of the

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disheveled corpses. I scanned the wall, a dark red substance sprawled about it.

More blood. But this was… fresh? I took a step closer, my body growing heavy.

What had truly happened within the 12 hours? Then I saw the word. “Sorry” Crunch.

My eyes widened in horror as I read the word, then looked briefly back to the piles of molting flesh that remained of the technicians. Something wasn’t right here. A low rumbling noise started from a dark hall that stood in front of me. Glowing eyes. The bright amber seemed to burn through me, a hatred not known on this Earth. It walked closer, hidden under the veil of darkness beside its eyes. It stepped closer into my view, its broken body drenched in blood.

The matted fur, snarling fangs, gruesome claws, and worst of all, its human face.

Snarl.

I screamed, the noise piercing through the quiet that had formed around me.

The creature lunged, its claws reaching for me as if its life depended on it. They tore and shredded quickly, turning what I used to be into nothing more than the remains of a fellow technician. The hope and dream that I once held vanished into nothing as the creature seemed to grin. It stalked its way back down the dark hall, heading to finish off humanity.

Sorry.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR My name is Molly Nikkel and I am a senior at Summit High School. I have always been intrigued by art and writing form a young age, reading and drawing anything I could. I have started to write more as I entered high school, finding it fun to fabricate my own worlds.

Marble Reflection Watercolor Ivy Edberg | Grade 12 My name is Ivy Edberg and I am a current senior at Summit High School. I have always loved looking at and creating art. I’ve taken classes in and outside of school that have taught me a lot about my personal style of art. I really enjoy ceramics, drawing in pen, and painting with acrylic paints. I like to make more abstract pieces with most of my art, because, even though I feel like I’m a perfectionist, I don’t want my art to be too perfect. I can get really frustrated with my art at times and how long the process can take, but most of my pieces turn into something that I might not expect, but that I usually enjoy.

My work almost always reflects what mood I was in when I made it.

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Goodbyes

By Ian Hans Part 1: Collection The delicate shell lays on a green leaf. I don’t know where they are from, Mom says they come off of some insect but I don’t really care. All I want is the shells, knowing where they come from ruins the fun. They could be from some tiny monster from another dimension that leaves behind its skin in ours. Or they are some creature that gets scared of me and tries to turn invisible, but I still see it because I am clever. Ever so carefully I pick it up, I learned my lesson to be careful after breaking so many.

My favorite part is holding it in my hands.

I have it, it’s mine now. I can do whatever I want with it. In this case, I will bring him back home to add him to my growing collection. I need something to put it in, but what?

Grandma probably has something. She has lots of things. Mom said she is kind of a hoarder whatever that means. I think when you get older all the things you get you don’t want to get rid of. I’m only 7 and have plenty of things, like the wood fire truck I got for Christmas. I don’t ever want to get rid of that. Walking through the porch door I can smell that smell. I don’t know what it is but it is always around old things. Maybe it is just the smell of old. I love this smell because grandma and grandpa smell like that and I love them.

“Grandma!” no response. She must be in the basement or upstairs. I should try the basement first. I don’t run down the stairs, they scare me and I don’t want to wake up the ghosts. The basement has a wonderful smell. Laundry is all done down here so the smell of soap is heavy.

“Grandma?” whoosh whoosh click click, the dryer is running. “Grandma?” whoosh 64

whoosh click click. I’m getting scared, I know there are ghosts down here. I don’t want to be here alone.

Whoosh whoosh click click.

“Yes?” Oh, thank goodness, I’m safe she appears from around a corner. “What do you want?”.

“I need a something to put this in” I lift the shell to show her my prized possession.

“Oh well I think I have just the thing for it,” she said this slightly disgusted but still happy. She leads me up the stairs in a slow fashion but I don’t think it’s because she’s scared. If she is she would not live in this house. In the kitchen I see Mom making something for lunch but I don’t care all I want is that container. We turn to go up the curvy staircase, this one reminds me of a castle staircase. Grandma’s going slower than I would like on this staircase but I don’t mind. She is giving me a gift after all.

Turning the corner of the stairs we begin to speed up. The shell lays delicately cupped between my hands like it is a secret that only Grandma and I know about. Finally, we reach the bedroom.

Grandma sure does have a lot of things. In her closet, she has clothes on clothes and many drawers with who knows what in them.There’s even more stuff in the attic where I sleep with the squirrels in the roof, or is it more ghosts?

“I think I have it in here...” Grandma says as she looks through a drawer. I try to peak over there but can’t get a clear look at what she’s got in there. “Here you go,” she says pulling out a small red box. It’s the perfect size for the skin of my insect husk!

“Thank you, Grandma,” I say reaching for the box. This thing is awesome! “ do you have any more?” I can’t have just one because it wouldn’t be much of a collection.

“Well sure, I just have to look some more”.

She is so awesome, always giving me stuff.

I guess it’s because you get so many things

in life that you can’t help but share what you have got with other people. When I am older I guess I would want to do the same thing.

Part 2: Chess “Can we go to the bookstore?” I love going to the bookstore with Grandpa he always gets me something.

“Do you want to play chess?” Grandpa always wants to play chess. It must be because he does not have a lot of other things to do. He doesn’t have to go to school, lucky.

But it must get pretty boring.

“Sure grandpa,” Mom says I should play with him because it helps exercise his brain.

I like chess but don’t love it. I am not very good at it like my friends are. Grandpa must be pretty good though seeing that he always wants to play it. I don’t like losing but I’ll do it for grandpa.

“Do you want to play chess?” He has Alzheimer’s, Mom says that’s why he forgets things a lot. It can get annoying but I know it is not his fault.

“Yeah, I’ll get the board”. I think it is in the drawer behind the table. Yes, there it is, I hope all the pieces are still in there. ‘Let’s play”.

“Oh yes,” he is really excited. I know I should play chess with him more but he can forget the rules and he always beats me anyway. I hear old people are wise and I am only ten so what chance do I have of beating him?

Putting my last pawn on the edge of the board I see that grandpa has not started.

“Here, I can help.”

“No I got it,” he says as he puts the rook in the wrong square. How can I remind him without upsetting him or making him feel bad because he can’t remember?

“I think that piece goes here.”

“Oh yeah, thank you” his eyebrows raised for a second putting on an expression of confusion. I offer to help put the pieces in place so we can play. I should not be inpatient it is not his fault anyway.

“There we go” the last piece goes in the right place, I think that jogged his memory because he looks excited again. His first move is hispawn in front of the queen two spaces up. I always have trouble deciding my first move so I copy him. Next, he moves his left rook out, I do my right. The game slowly advances with grandpa taking his time on every move, perhaps he is trying to remember the rules. He tries to move his bishop like it was a knight. “Oh, you can’t do that Grandpa” “Right, right,” he thinks about it for a while and moves it correctly taking out my knight. A stupid mistake on my part but it seemed to lift his mood more so I feel good about it. As I play I start to think does my grandpa having this disease put my mom at greater risk for it as well? It is really hard to see grandpa go through this but for my mom, that would be terrible.

Thinking about it more I never really knew my grandpa before the disease, except when I was very little maybe. Mom says he was a lot different before. I wish I could know him that way. He is still a great Grandpa but not the person he was. So what if my mom gets it. Will she become totally different, I really hope she doesn’t. What if I get it? What will happen to me? Will, I not be able to play chess? Maybe I should focus more on the game. I have his king in a corner and I still have my queen. I could really win against him for the first time! Just a few more good moves and I could get “checkmate.”

“What? Hmmf!” I did it I actually won. I would like to play chess with him more.

Even though he lost he stills seems really happy. Maybe I made his brain better.

“Good game” I offer up my hand and he shakes it. “Can we go to the bookstore now?”

“Sure” Grandpa likes the bookstore also, he could spend hours in one looking for books he might never read. I think going to the bookstore helps his brain as well. Mom is

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always saying how good reading is for me so it must be good for him as well.

Part 3: Goodbyes This is the last time I will be at this house.

Grandma has passed away and grandpa is moving farther away mentally. All my family is here to help move things or take things that they want from the house. A good thing about this I guess is I get a lot of things for my collection of knick-knacks.

I will probably be like Grandma, having a lot of things when I am older. Going through photos is the coolest part I think, seeing Grandma and Grandpa’s life progress. I was only able to witness the ending but their stories are so much longer than what I know. We watched a tape where Grandpa was playing with my mom and Aunt, that’s the first time I saw him as a father. It was a glimpse of the man I was never truly able to meet. Going through the basement, we find all of their zither things. Music, strings, even a few zithers which I will have to learn to play. I still wonder if there are ghosts down here. I was convinced when I was little, probably due to the night we spent down here during a tornado. It kind of hurts

Wolf Eyes Micro Pen Natalie Miller Grade 10

Bio on page . . . 16

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to think about that, but it also makes me happy. Happy that I can remember these things.

I love this house and all the memories within it, summer days spent looking for cicada shells or playing chess with Grandpa. Making my way up to the attic, I can hear the squirrels rustling about up there. I knew I would have to say goodbye to this house sometime so why does it hurt so bad? I guess I am worried that I will forget. Without the reminder of these things then how will I remember. It’s time to go but I don’t want to leave this house. I don’t want to leave Grandma and Grandpa. In the car Dad is pulling out of the driveway, “Goodbye Grandma” I say to myself. But why? Just because we are leaving the housedoesn’t mean I have to leave her. I can hold onto those memories without the house. Just like the knick knacks I took from there. The house and those memories can stay alive in my heart even if they go away in real life. I can carry Grandma and Grandpa wherever I go, all I have to do is keep them in my heart.

Keep them where they have always been and always will be.

Rose Graphite Pencil Madison Ayn Harlan | Grade 10 Bio on page . . . 14

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Bonsai Wire Sculpture Emilie McAtamney | Grade 12 My name is Emilie I love to send it and Iove my edamame.

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When Women Support Acrylic Zoe Turner | Grade 12 My name is Zoe Turner, and I am a current senior at Summit High School. I have drawn my art process to learning new techniques in mediums that do not always draw my attention. This encompasses watercolor and acrylic. I believe that the process of creating is a source to be applied to more fields than the visual arts. Henri Matisse said, “Creativity takes courage.� The creativity process allows for problems to be solved in new ways. I was able to study in a classroom with natural light, where I have to credit, many of my ideas sparked from. The art process is particularly important for me as it shows my creativity and allows me to produce my ideas without restriction. My work has no real deep meaning, however said each piece is meaningful to me as I have put my full creativity into it. As I journey through the art process I recognize many artists who have influence on me. Including Henri Matisse, Frida Kahlo, Pablo Picasso, Andy Warhol, Salvador Dali and many others. I hope to continue my technique and convey to my viewers that there is a love of creativity.

me and you

By Courtney Brown if we are told that new and old can define the curves of a face that our happy sad distressed and glad look different on every race then what is love and what is peace if we cannot find common ground, for i race until the edge of time and still, I feel misplaced

Bio on page . . . 23

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Forbidden Love Watercolor Madison Lebow | Grade 10 My name is Madison Lebow and I was born in Connecticut and raised in Colorado. This is my second painting class. I like making art because i can express my emotions. My favorite medium to use is pencil. It’s easy to blend out and create different shadows and shades. My favorite things to draw are objects or nature. I enjoy making things look realistic.

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Fox in Flight Mixed Media Leif Joseph Anderson | Grade 9 Bio on page . . . 50

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My Mom

By Isabelle Tarrant “No mud, no lotus.”

These words, They mean so much to her, She practically lives by it.

Her spectacular soul is stuck in the mud, Working hard day and night like she’s cemented in a continuous loop.

Struggling to release herself, To reach the lotus, To reach the reward, To reach the light at the end of the tunnel.

Three jobs, Five doubles a week, Her feet are beaten and battered like the soles of over-worn shoes.

Her head pounding from exhaustion because of all this effort, Simply to keep a roof over her daughters’ heads.

People constantly saying, “Oh how do you do it?”

“I just do.” My mother replies.

And it’s true, She makes it work.

We, together, make it work.

“We’ll figure it out.”

She always says and you know what?

That’s what we’ve done, And are still doing, Every single day.

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For the past several years, It’s just been the 3 of us, Myself, my sister, and my mother.

We’re like a super trio, Or the 3 musketeers!

We respect each other, We support each other, But most importantly, We love each other, To the moon and back.

And I feel so clever, Creating this poem for the best mom ever.

And yes I know this sounds cheesy, But maybe for her it wasn’t so easy.

She had to fight for her place, Within this new space.

Her determination mixed with motivation, Sprinkled with passion and love, Formed a beautiful lotus that no one could’ve ever crafted, So delicately as she has.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR My name is Isabelle Tarrant and I’m in 10th grade. I love to ski and play rugby, I also love spending time with my mom, sister, and two dogs. My interest of writing kind of sparked in middle school when in 8th grade there was a poetry slam for my English class. I immediately had a rough draft of a possible poem for the competition, and I quickly fell in love with poetry and all its aspects. I write poems when I’m not sure how to express feelings and to help me convey emotion.

Life of a Bonsai Graphite Pencil Ivy Edberg | Grade 12 Bio on page . . . 63

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The Drowning Pencil Digital Photography Maximo Sanchez de la Torre Grade 9 This was about a pencil that could not float. A pencil that ended up Drowning.This was captured on a DSLR in a fish tank with a pencil.

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Artist

Ella 78

Eland 79

Sunflower 80

Oil Paint

Eland

Ella

Artist Spotlight E.Eland

Artist Spotlight E.Eland

Escape Acrylic

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Artist Spotlight E.Eland

WHOA Acrylic

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Artist Spotlight E.Eland

About This Painting This painting was submitted into the Scholastic Arts and Writing Awards.

The Scholastic Arts and Writing Awards is a non profit oraginzation to identify students who show exceptional talent in the arts or writing.

This painting won a gold!

This is a painting of a photo I took of my cousin after she rode a ride at Gillian’s Wonderland Pier. I loved how it captured her wonder and excitement at the thrill of it all.

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Artist Spotlight E.Eland

On the Water Watercolor 84

Artist Spotlight E.Eland

In Omnia Paratus Acrylic

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Artist Spotlight E.Eland

Degrees Acrylic

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Artist Spotlight E.Eland

About This Painting This is a more abstract painting aimed to show the contrast between feeling really happy or really sad. I painted this for an upcoming art show about mental health my school’s art honor society is putting on called “Between Two Extremes.” I wasn’t aiming for it to be realistic, but more loose and expressive.

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Artist Spotlight E.Eland

The Gift of Creativity 88

Acrylic

Ella Eland I am a 16 year old, self-taught artist born and raised in Breckenridge, Colorado. I have been creating since I could hold a pencil, but only started to take art seriously since I was about 11 years old. I love the creative freedom and personal expression that comes with creating every piece, the process soothing and enjoyable. In the past, I used art and photography I found on Pinterest as my inspiration and to learn from. Recently, however, I have been experimenting with photography and using my own photos as references. I am still exploring different styles and mediums to find my “niche�, but I currently love painting (especially with acrylic and watercolor) and drawing with colored pencils.

In 2016, I started an Instagram account (@artisteland) dedicated to sharing my artwork. Now, I have a following of over 1.7k and have won various online contests--one of them international. In 2018, I was featured alongside my aunt, Karen Eland, in the Cascade A&E art magazine for an exhibition with the company, Portrait Connection. In 2019, I once again worked with Portrait Connection and became a working high school artist at the High Country Artisans Gallery in Silverthorne (where you can purchase originals and prints of some of my work!) I have worked in collaboration with a small art supply company, Benicci Art through Instagram, and done sign boards for the boutique at Bhava Yoga Studios in Breckenridge. In the future, I hope to pursue art in a creative career and make a positive difference with my art!

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Mountains

By Josh Mountains, mountains wide at the bottom and small at the top With thin, thin air and the temperatures drop.

Full of snow at the top and filled with trees at the base. Here is where adventures await.

Pioneers, Native Americans set up camp below the face.

They say they walked, they talked and they wandered all around, But now they settled down.

Since then we haven’t heard a sound.

Hikers, bikers, skiers and boarders lollygagging all around, but to the mountains they can’t hear a single sound.

Avalanches piling around, leaving scars from up to down.

Mountains, mountains all around From the Himalayas to the Rocky Mountains convergent boundaries, volcanos, whatever They are big and rocky and stay there forever because the base is rock and the top is a boulder.

Covered with snow, flakey or fluffy, hard or soft, the wind blows it off.

Cold wind, breezy wind knocks you off your feet.

You land on your head and think you are dead, but it is just the howling winds again.

You’re miles high. You scrape the sky.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Josh is 11 years old and in the 5th grade at Silverthorne Elementary. His favorite subject is science. He enjoys skiing, swimming, tennis and cub scouts. Josh has 3 brothers and a new puppy. He hopes to be in the Air Force.

Gregory the Tree

By Carson Earnest When I was a tiny person, about 4 or 5 years old, I didn’t really care about anything. But I had a special tree in my backyard. I cared for the tree like it was a family member. The tree was my best friend. I even named the tree. His name was Gregory.

One day, when I was playing outside, I heard the sound of the chainsaw. Not long after, I went to play with Gregory. I saw a bunch of workers near the spot where Gregory was. I went over. Gregory was on the ground. The workers had cut him down.

Out of all the trees, they chose MY tree to cut down. I ran inside to my room. I stayed there for what felt like forever. It felt like my life was cut down, not just Gregory. All my amazing times with him, gone. There would 90

be no more adventures with Gregory.

When I finally came out, my parents had a long talk with me. They told me that it is ok to lose things you love. It happens sometimes and you just need to remember the good times, the good memories. I have always remembered that and I will remember Gregory for the rest of my life.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR My name is Carson Earnest. I am 11 years old and I attend Summit Middle School. I like to dance, act, sing, paint, and do other fun things.

Focus and Breathe Digital Photography Caroline L. Blackwell | Grade 11 I’m born and raised in Summit County, Colorado. I love photography and am hoping to do it, professionally, outside of Summit High School. If you’re interested, follow my photography journey on Instagram: @carolines.photo

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Clean Up That Mess

By Ivy Edberg I keep finding tissues Tissues all over my house Stashed between cushions And pinched behind pillows I don’t remember putting them there Was it all the times my feelings fell through those cracks Only to be brought up again when I thought they needed cleaning All the feelings left behind Until someone finds them And asks, “What the hell are these doing here?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The Toucan Colored Pencil James Klasnick | Grade 3 Hi! I am James and am in 3rd grade I love to pet puppies, eat pizza and ski!

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My name is Ivy Edberg, and I have grown up creating art my entire life. In the last few years, I have really learned to appreciate art in all of its forms, and I am pursuing a degree in arts and sciences at CU Boulder starting next year.

I am always looking to spend time with good people and find that I am happiest when I am outdoors. I hope to continue to use art, whether it is in the form of poetry, painting, or otherwise, to express myself and create positive change around me.

One Year

By Hunter Stimson She was given a year to live. Her sickness was taking over her brain.

Every morning, she puts on a smile, trying to ignore her disease. But everyday it took more and more of the high beaming grin from her.

Three months left to live, and she has almost nothing. The disease has taken everything from her. She barely remembers the girl she used to be. She has gotten so used to her disease that she forgets what she was like before.

A minute left to live. All her close relationships have said their last goodbyes, parting from her world.

She was now alone, looking back on the life she had lived. Reminiscing on the times before her disease and remembering the friends she had and the memories she made.

Unfortunately her time is up, her disease has taken over.

The Titles Are Insignificant Marker Gabriel W. Knight | Grade 12 I had a child at fifteen. I am a technician of theater and I am involved in the local high school community. I love music like electro swing, reggae and classic rock.

Time of death: high school Cause of death: jealousy

ABOUT THE AUTHOR My name is Hunter Stimson, and I live in Breckenridge, Colorado. I have grown up in the secluded area of Summit County my entire life. While growing up, I have witnessed many dimensions of life already, including new friends, falling outs, gold honor roll, failing a class, etc. My life has been filled with many ups and downs, but each experience has made me who I am. I love being able to express my emotions through not only art, but writing as well. It has been a great way for me to express my feelings and open my eyes to the bigger aspects of life.

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Arctic Love Watercolor Kayla Hanson | Grade 10 My name is Kayla and I have lived in Summit County my entire life. I create art in order to express myself and what I believe in to the people that view it. I use paint in order to create my artwork because the multitude of different ways that you can apply paint to any surface, which can change how the tone of the painting is viewed. I love to express nature, as that is where I love to live and wholly enjoy life. My work is not only about expressing myself, but also what I believe in using a creative outlet. I love to play volleyball, ski, bike, and hike in the outdoors.

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Pristine Land

By Luke Klasnick Powerful I am, my land is lush.

Water surrounds me, Every wave crashes with a gush.

Bountiful is the rest of my hidden land, Every piece of treasure in my sand.

I am Hawaii.

Beautiful are my fragrant flowers, Every petal opening with the rain showers.

Colorful coral near my shore, so pristine.

Every part shimmers with a gleam.

Plentiful are my hidden coves, Every sea creature longs to go.

ABOUT THIS AUTHOR Hi! My name is Luke and I am 12 years old. Skiing is my life.......and I love nature.

This author is also the artist of the artwork below.

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Sun Over Grand Canyon

By James Klasnick I am high, Up in the sky.

I am the sun, Over the Grand Canyon.

I am bright, Red, orange, and yellow shine light.

I am quiet, Rocks right by.

I am love, Watching from above

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Hi! My name is James. I love puppies, skiing and art. I am 8 years old and in 3rd grade.

Bio on page . . . 92

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Silent Wisp Digital Photography Saylor Fausel | Grade 8 I am fourteen years old and I live on a ranch. I am passionate about art, horses, and writing. I like photography, alcohol inks, and water color. I mostly do photography because I like finding the beauty in things that are already there.

First Generation Dream Collauge Violet Heisler | Grade 12 My name is Violet Heisler and I am a senior at Summit High School. I moved up here in 8th grade with my parents and younger brother. I have been taking art classes since 8th grade but I haven’t taken one each year since 8th grade. My senior year is the most art classes I have participated in. After learning about and trying different mediums my favorite one would have to be either water color or pallet painting. I like how the colors flow with each other in water color but I also enjoy the freedom of creativity that comes with pallet painting. I am not the best at art but these two mediums help me thrive in my artwork.

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MOO Graphite Pencil Elizabeth Smith | Grade 12 My version of art is drawing the thing that you see or feel when you look at a certain object or thing.

Summer Graphic Pencil Litzy Ortega | Garde 11 I just love drawing flowers, love nature

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The Waltz of the Marionettes

By Hunter Giacone As the crimson curtain slowly rise off the ground. The pale spotlight, bit by bit, begins to burn bright. Soon the room is filled with whispers and sounds Our wooden bodies lay revealed in the golen light.

Our limbs are bound with rope and twine, We face the crowd in frozen delight As we begin to articulate, connect and bind.

Soon enough we are gracing the stage by a forced hand As we stand face to face, with fear on our lips.

We turn and face the crowd as they clap on command.

As the music begins with a brisk and swift “click.”

Here we are again, compelled to dance by the Master’s hand.

Though we are alive, we barely begin to speak.

The strings sweep us across the stage in elegant technique.

free, He only laughs and drinks from his flask.

He still forces us to dance in his jubilee As he sits back and basques in his maddening glee.

And so we have become the puppets of our Master’s fancy.

Our actions and movements controlled in every way Even though we’re more damaged than a trampled pansy.

Now the enchanted crowd begins to disappear into the dark As the Master slowly lowers us back to the stage The music ceases to spin and bark.

As he lays us back within our cold dark cage.

The crimson curtains slowly falls to the ground As the golden spotlight begins, bit by bit, to burn out We slump together, bound to the ground.

But our period of silence does not last long As our strings are once again pulled tight.

Soon the sound of the music echoes back in song As the crimson curtain rises again, re-drowning us in light.

Together again we dance this delicate waltz in the spotlight, But we can’t escape from our Master’s grasp Spinning round and round as the crowd’s eyes gleamed bright While our ears are filled with their delightful gasps.

And yet, though they’re as close as can be, They fail to hear our cries in vain For they only see happiness and glee.

And when we cry to our Master to set us

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Hello there! My name is Hunter Giacone, and I’m in 11th grade at Summit High School. When I was younger, I would like to make these dramatic stories and poems that I loved to write.

From making a poem about the winter seasons to writing a short story about a dark crime, I’m always inspired to write something creative.

One of my fondest memories was in 7th grade when my English teacher would sometimes pull out a book that had these really cool short stories. She would only read the title of a story and then ask us to write a story inspired by the title. I would always be excited to write whenever she gave us those assignments because I could unleash my creativity. I would write a full page if I could because I was just so excited to write creatively; and also to be ‘that’ kid in class who does more than what is asked.

From then on I’ve made a really amazing improvement in my writing, which I’m incredibly proud of. It just feeds my soul to write, no matter if it’s a little poem that I banged out in ten minutes or a long story that took me months to perfect; I really just love to write whatever I want. That mindset was one of the biggest drivers for me to submit my work because I really want people to read it and to have a reaction to it.

Some of my biggest interests I write about are crime and macabre things. I don’t know why, but writing about these things allows me to release my dramatic ideas and details into the story. Currently, I’m exploring writing a novel called “Escaping the Puppeteer,” which is a crime story that I’ve been working on for a while.

While I enjoy the dark and creepy, I also dabble in sweet, enchanting, and fantastical stories; I’m also working on a love story that follows a girl from the first-person point of view, but that’s still in the works.

Aside from that, the piece I chose to submit is called “The Waltz of the Marionettes,” which is a poem that follows the first-person point of view of a pair of puppets as they perform for an audience. I really wanted to play with how they would see and react to this. In reality, we see puppets and plays as a charming and happy thing; we don’t really see how the puppets “feel” about how they perform and “live.” I really do hope you enjoy!

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Six Turtles Mandala Mixed Media Lucas Sudduth | Grade 10 The natural beauty of nature has always inspired me. The geometric shape in animals like the sea turtle is what made me decide to capture their pattern in the form of a mandala.

Sunset in the Clouds Watercolor John Weldon | Grade 10 My name is John Weldon and I am a Sophomore. I was born in Chicago and moved to Breckenridge 3 to 4 years ago.

I love creating art adding lots of detail and being creative.

My favorite medium is acrylic due to the strong color and it’s mixing abilities. I like painting various environments from deserts to mountains. I paint in a messy style with many colors that aren’t blended in all the way.

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Flying High Watercolor Liam Jackman Grade 12 I am 17 years old and live in Breckenridge, CO. My father’s main hobby is painting and became a professional at it. My hobbies include lacrosse and biking. I like to be creative and adventurous.

Older

By Gabriella Michaels

I’ll do my homework if you do mine.

And things.

I’m elevenThe oldest..

And I have the bragging rights, And I will always be taller, And I will get my way.

And then there’s my sister.

Poofiest hair, Speaks her mind.

People always say, Older siblings are the worst, But Nah.

My friends tell me She has an attitude.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

But it’s tolerable.

And nice.

When I say, Get me this.

Do that.

What’s this?

Tell me about that.

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I live in Breckenridge with my family and 4-yearold dog. I love animals, art, design, drawing, and chocolate. Especially that last one there. I look up to famous authors and strive to make my work as funny and good as it can be. I enjoy hanging out with friends as well. I am an older sibling and have to deal with the daily hassles of being poked and prodded by a little sister, but I manage to find the good things about it in this poem.

Words vs. Worlds

By Emily Carisch Until I sit down at this paper I am full of worlds until I sit down at this paper and stare down its blank face I am full offloating brimstone castles sleeping, wingless dragons curled into Sun-tucked pearlescent stoned coves flowers crowned by broad, thick-veined leaves silver strands of moonlight that float and wave on a breeze Shamrocks that grow, in explosions of color across the hillside

drops of gold like fallen stars jellyfish that bloom through the water pulsing faint pink and blue like dropped lace, spread in the tide I am full of worlds

Full of words exuberance, lackidasical bromeliad until I sit down at this paper and stare down its blank face, afraid to place the first mark

ABOUT THE AUTHOR I’m a sophomore in Summit High School. I love to read and travel. I write poems to release stress.

lanterns floating down a dark river like

Forrest Gump Mixed Media Caleb White | Grade 12 My name is Caleb, I’ve lived in Summit County my whole life.

I currently am a senior at SHS and it is my first year doing art. I enjoy painting because I am able to put my own kind of expression on a certain painting. Painting also helps me to express myself in a unique form and to explain my personality. I enjoy mountain biking in the summer and skiing in the winter along with hunting and fishing. I later hope to be attending CSU after I graduate to study Natural Resources and Wildlife Preservation.

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Rises From the Ashes

By Phoenix Meyer My name has always meant a lot to me. It symbolizes who I am.

I follow a motto that follows my name. The motto is “Rises from the ashes.�

The Legend of Phoenix says that a Phoenix Bird will be born and live for one hundred years. After that time, the bird will burst into flames and die.

Bright Ideas Watercolor Lily Young | Grade 12 My name is Lily and I am a senior. I was born in Hawaii but have grown up in Breckenridge. I enjoy skiing, mountain biking, and hiking around the county with my friends and family. During my time at the high school, I have not taken many art classes. I took Photo I and Photo II but am glad I branched out and took a Painting class to expand my experiences with different medias. I enjoy making art because it is something other than typical school. Art allows more freedom and opportunity for expression than my other classes.

From the ashes of the previous bird, a new bird will rise. This bird will rule until their time is over, leading to the next.

The story has always inspired me. From the legend of the bird that shares my name, I learn that I can always rise up from the ashes. When I have a bad day, the next one will be better. When I have a bad game, the next one will be better. Every time I mess up, I will become better

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and do better the next time.

Over the years, I have formed my motto, “Rises from the ashes,� reminding me always that I can do better next time, and when something does not go right, it will be better next time. I will always rise from the ashes.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR I am in 6th grade at SMS. I love ELA class, play basketball, chess, guitar, sing, and snowboard.

Rocco Mirco Pen Levi Horvath | Grade 10 I am an athlete and student from Summit Country, and I spend my time skiing mountain biking, and drawing.

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Daisy Dreaming Acrylic Liliana Lopez | Grade 10 In my artwork, I always include the idea or concept of a meaningful moment. I try to express it with what I am feeling and how it can presented with the colors.

With that I try to piece it together with the design that I create. I try to build a connection with my artwork because I feel that this projects more emotion to both me and the audience in my work.

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Prevention

By Riley Lovejoy She’s back in the hallway Trying to find space Her tears fall silently as she fades away And she falls She’s back on the playground Sliding down the slides, swinging on the swings Trying to play tag Her tears fall again, silent as the night She’s back in her bedroom Her mother lying on the bed She tries to say I love you, But her voice is no use She holds on with all her might as she fades away Her tears fall silently For she shall forever be stuck in, Her grave

ABOUT THE AUTHOR I am an optimistic, outdoorsy girl. I enjoy snowboarding, dirt biking, running and making songs on my guitar. I love living in Colorado and spending time with my friends and family.

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Chasing the Clouds in the Sky Mixed Media Hailey Ann Hagburg | Grade 9 My name is Hailey, I am a freshman at SHS and grew up in Summit County. I have been doing art since elementary school. I went to Upper Blue Elementary. I have always loved doing art because to me it is a way of expressing things without writing it down in words.

I have a lot of animals, and I find that is a big part of my inspiration, but I usually like to create whatever comes to my head first. My favorite medium is pencil, I love the look of pencil sketches, and you can always erase it if you make even the smallest mistake.

Nostalgia

By Sophia Brown I love you mom. Also, do you ever smell something or taste something, and it takes you back to a time you forgot about? Miu miu, marc jacobs. When mommy walked into grandad’s house with her suitcase.

Bolton was playing with the trains. I was sitting on the old, rotting bed which I shared with my brother who still wore diapers, playing cake doodle. I gave her a hug and inhaled the sweet scent of her fancy job; her other life i knew nothing about. I look back now and feel like i knew 1%, every once in a while it all clicks - like an epiphany of some sort.

Well I miss that, being tiny. The only thing I cared about was making sure to not leave 108

any of zizi’s kingdom behind, or making sure the cookie was evenly spilt between me and bolton.

It’s different now, but that’s okay. it hurts a little more, but i’ll manage. i always have. it’s honestly easier to keep it to myself. i feel like two different people sometimes.

And then there’s those moments where you barely feel human?

Or where you snap out of your life for a second and remember who you are, then you try to grab that moment, but it slips through your head like the algae on the rocks in the “forbidden” river. That river is so

orange. I remember when my pink ball got stuck in the river. or when we built a bridge to the other side. That was the first time I felt independent. I wish I could describe it.

Picking raspberries from the bushes with my little skirt wet just at the edges.

Nervously laughing as the stream started looking more like a waterfall. The small pinch in my heart, when slipping two feet into the river was easily the scariest moment of my life, and yet I still had a smile on my face. That rebellious moment when I stepped onto the branch and thought I’m going to do this. But then my stomach dropped in the bad way when I saw the faces of five parents who had no clue where their barely 4 foot kids had been for the past hour.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR My name is Sophia Brown, I love to travel, try new things, and make memories with my friends and family. Some passions of mine are scuba diving, being in the sun, and writing.

For me writing is an escape from the raw, never ending repetition of life. It’s almost like creating your own dreams, you can go anywhere and be anyone you want to be. This diary entry style poem is dedicated to my mom who has always been and will continue to be my role model.

But there was still a smile there, maybe not on my face, but everywhere else.

Captain America Colored Pencil Beckett Burnette | Grade 5 I’m 11 years old and moved to Breckenridge from Austin, TX in 2019. I love to draw super heroes and various characters. I also love mountain biking and skiing.

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Dull Harmony

Calm Waters

By Isaac York

Watercolor

The soft pulse of the sun flows through the branches of the trees.

The leaves all around me ripple in the breeze.

The ground around me, a gentle, blurry composition of snow and dirt.

The birds harmonize their songs as I overhear.

The sound of my feet crunching the leaves obstructs the recital.

The serenity of the scene confounds me.

Yet, still uniform with the foretime.

A replica of a trek before, As I crunch along the forest floor.

I yearn to find adventures more.

ABOUT THE AUTOR I am twelve as of writing this but when you read this I will be thirteen. I enjoy skateboarding, playing soccer , video games, and of course, writing. I have two dogs and two cats. My favorite music author is Josh A and my favorite book author is Veronica Roth. Other than that, not much else about me, I’m still a bit of an un-written book, trying to figure out what I wanna do.

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Alina Cospolich | Grade 9 My name is Alina, I love the outdoors and art. I am also a competitive snowboarder. Art is really something I am interested in because it lets me be free with my creativity, and I can make whatever I want to.

Inspiring Words Elephant Mirco Pen Mia Norden | Grade 3

I enjoy reading, piano, gymnastics�, skiing, and of course arts and crafts. I’ve traveled to Ireland, Italy, France, and many other places in the U.S.A. I have a sister named Maddie, my dog Rooney, my frog Hansel, and my parents. I also love tacos. Bye!

Performance Graphic Pencil Jaime Venegas | Grade 12 Music is life.

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A Day of Reckoning

By Case Bosgraaf Alastair Khan had been dreading this day.

He was to be tested, as is customary in the village of fire. However, this was no ordinary test. It was a test of power and will, and a test Alastair had been fearing for many years. This was because a life lost was mandatory for victory. A similar tale had been bestowed on his father and his father before him. As Alastair kept walking towards the arena, he heard the bell toll twice. He was late, he thought to himself. Alastair froze for only a moment. His eyes widened, and his pupils shrunk to the size of beads in an instant, and his breathing became heavy as though a dark storm were passing over him. The air suddenly became hot from the anger emanating from the arena.

Alistair’s breathing had become even heavier, his existence began flashing before his eyes as panic settled in. A few simple moments, just images of him training his whole life, not coming home until dark with hands singed and blistered. The burns had soon left his hands, but those blisters stayed on his palms. Reminders of all that he hated about his village, all the death that “had to happen”.

He saw images of his father, a bitter, angry man who had always made Alastair fear that he would be dead come sunrise. He was surrounded by threats of violence if he came home early from his training.

A final image seared itself into his mind his younger brother, battered and bloody from Alastair not having been able to defend him, and Alastair remembered his words fondly.

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“Promise me…” he had choked on his words then, blood splattering from his mouth onto the towel in front of him.“Promise me, that you will never stop fighting for me.”

Alastair’s eyes flashed open, steeling over with determination. As the terror abated, and they returned to normal, his pupils became a fire-like shape. Beginning an incantation, his brother’s broken face flashed before his eyes one last time. “impuls de flacără” He set his arms behind him, palms towards the ground making him look like a bird of some sort. A large red dot appeared a few inches off the center of his palms. Two crimson lines began to swirl around only about half an inch away from the dot itself on exact opposite sides, as they created a hurricane-like effect over both his hands.

Fire then began to spout violently from the center of the dots. All of a sudden, Alastair launched fifty feet in the air.

The wind was cool on his face, he truly felt at home here. No problems, nothing to be afraid of, just the clouds floating above the roofs, no longer holding him down. Being in the air was something he loved, like cold baths before they would boil over from his own hands. He loved a cool breeze more than a gazelle would enjoy a world without lions. This is why Alastair trained his sudo flying so much, just to get one more chance to enjoy the cool breeze. He snapped back to reality when the wave of hot air from the arena passed over him.

He would have to make it into the arena soon or risk being hunted and killed like a wild animal. He set himself in a flatter position and prepared for a fast flight. Despite his mastery in this skill, it still used up a considerable amount of his energy. While still hovering, he took a moment to focus, drawing small pockets of energy to his hands. He opened his eyes and released the

energy. He shot towards the arena, relieved that he would not be too late.

A few moments later it hit him. Alastair had smacked straight into the wall with the top of his head, however, the spell was still going strong. He kept pressing through the wall headfirst. The more and more he pressed, the more and more he could feel the rocks from the wall cutting into the top of his head. At first, just scratches, something that could be from a rose bush. The scratches quickly became large gashes as if a wolf was gnawing at his scalp.

From within the stands where Alastair had been tunneling, people moved out of the way, jumping from their seats and preparing for combat, worried the village of metal, was attacking. Many people looked over the sides of the wall to find nothing. The metal villages’ war drill would have still been visible, they had been close to war for a while, and the tensions were apparent to all the people of both villages.

With great confusion people asked one another what was happening and why. Suddenly, cracking began to sprout from the spot on the opposite side of the wall from where Alastair entered. More and more of the wall began to splinter and protrude outwards before breaking open like a plant blooming, and Alastair flew forward from the wall landing in the arena. He only found his entrance remarked with lots of booing and ridicule due to his poor timing.

He heard things like: “You only show up now!”

“If you wanted to be late, why didn’t you stay out longer!”

“I’ve heard of fashionably late, but this isn’t it!”

Alastair did not care about these comments. Only one thing was scaring him

now. Seven people sat in the top box, all with white hair and very muscular bodies looking down at him. No comment from them. This was good. Alastair had images pop into his head where any`one of them would have stood with one hand of theirs in the air shouting an incantation “suliță de foc” A large spear of flame would appear before flying forward and then black. Permanent black. His imagination had gotten the best of him again. Sweat was running down his forehead, not too much but enough for Alastair to be nervous that they would see.

This would not be good, his fighting might become shaky or worse. He closed his eyes trying to calm his nerves but could only see this same clip of his own imagination play again and again. Every time a little less fearful than the last. Nonetheless, he focused harder and found himself floating in a void, allowing himself to feel his own cool and gentle breeze.

His nerves slowly began to pass before hearing a sudden loud sound. A gate had begun opening, and the crowd was roaring something unfamiliar to him. A figure began to step forward. Alastair set himself in a stance ready to fight, both fists up, bent knees right leg in front of left, two feet apart ready for any attack.

“But who could it be,” Alastair thought to himself. A booming voice came from the booth atop the arena.

“Bazan Stone, step forward.”

Alastair froze..

He thought to himself, “Not him. Anyone but him.”

This was one challenge that Alistair was not prepared for. Bazan had always been able to best Alastair without fail. Several images flashed within Alastair’s mind. First from his 113

past laying flat on his back sometimes on grass, sometimes near a river, sometimes just a patch of dirt, but he always lost. He saw himself laying flat on his back, beaten and bloody and Bazan standing in a fighting stance prepared for anything, the crowd cheering Bazan’s name. Alastair couldn’t move. These “daydreams” had been going on too frequently all throughout the day.

Alastair knew that he was terrified of the contest altogether, but adding Bazan’s overwhelming strength compared to Alastairs made his knees go weak and his arms fall from in front of him as if a pair of snakes were falling from a tree and hanging by only the tips of their tails.

A look seemed to cross his face - one of pure terror. His eyes were very wide, eyebrows very high, and his jaw falling. Sweat began rapidly falling down his forehead down to his face until he could feel his very being falling, falling inward. He only saw his dark void, his cool breeze became a violent storm.

Wind pulling on his skin and beating on his face, he started screaming to no avail. No one could hear him, no one could save him from the torment of his own mind.

The thing he loved so dearly was tearing him apart. Alastair was looking for any way to leave this place that he had once held so dear, a rope was their off in the distance blowing in the wind. Alastair could usually maneuver within the void but right then in that moment, it was impossible to move.

Suddenly moving forward, the next moment launching backward, no way of maintaining control now.

Then somehow the rope was behind him. It had something inscribed on it.

“You promised.”

This gave Alastair newfound confidence, the confidence to take the rope and escape 114

this place and prepare to fight. Alastair felt himself being tugged all the way back to the surface of the world. Only a few moments had passed while he was in that world. The determined feeling from earlier that day had returned to him giving him a feeling of great strength and confidence.

He resumed his fighting stance.

The leaders of the village signified the battle to begin.

Alastair charged at Bazan who hadn’t taken any stance yet. Bazan stood and waited with a well-formulated plan in mind from fighting Alastair in the past. Alastair threw the first punch with his right hand, and Bazan took a step to the right. Alastair was dumbstruck as he glided past Bazan before feeling an excruciating amount of pain.

Bazan’s fist was pressed against Alastair’s ribcage.

“What an immense punch. He has grown too much for me to take on,” Alastair thought to himself as he flew two feet away from Bazan as if he had thrown him like a sack of rocks that he had seen Bazan training with.

Alastair stood up feeling the weight of his own body more than he had before. However, Bazan had used an incantation before Alastair could get his balance.

“Explozie,” Bazan had said A large ball of fire had formed in front in Alastair and exploded just before he could get his balance and get out of the way.

Alastair threw his hands up in front of his face to protect himself. He was launched three feet in the air still trying to guard his face. Most of his body had become singed like fish over an open flame. He felt like he was falling hundreds of feet. His own imagination was acting up again, seeing his younger brother again and the same idea that had sent him the rope was back.

Alastair looked to where Bazan was standing to find no one there just the hard dirt he had fallen on many times before whilst fighting Bazan in the past. Preparing to hit the ground he saw none other than Bazan above him with his foot straight up in the air Alastair put his hands over his head to protect himself from the attack, but the head was not Bazan’s target. Alastair could feel his body begin to fold in half around Bazan’s foot. His arms went limp and started floating in the air as if he were on a roller coaster. Alastair hit the ground hard, and his body became flat like a board as he fell on his back from the kick, coughing up a bit of blood from the two impacts in quick succession of each other. Alastair’s vision had come to fruition. He closed his eyes in defeat.

Suddenly the ground began to shake as if 1000 elephants were stampeding within the arena. A mark began forming on Alastair’s forehead as he lay on the ground, the dirt-holding him up to his killer. Bazan, however, was thrown from his balance and in an attempt to get to his feet, he fell once more.

whispered as it flew by, alas it was gone as fast is came but alastair got the message, a tear ran down his face and hit the ground but only one, now was not the time for sadness and mourning, now was a time for pride and enjoyment in his victory. Alastair continued to listen but there was no cheering the people were still in shock.

As Bazan ran, three masked people ran after him. Alastair had won.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR I am in 9th grade at Summit High School. I was born in England and grew up in the US. I enjoy writing as a means of escape. It really allows me to explore the depths of my imagination and realize the little snippets of an idea that comes to mind.

The quake had subsided, and Alastair’s wounds were nowhere to be found.

A set of armor made entirely of fire surrounded him like a cocoon, and a sword appeared in his right hand. Everyone’s jaw dropped at the sight of this. They had only heard stories of such a technique.

Many of the people realized that the stories must be true, and they became fearful because if this technique was back, then so was the creature, the creature that nearly destroyed the world 10,000 years ago.

Bazan ran. He knew he had a better chance of beating the military of their village over Alastair in his new state. A smile crossed his father’s face one pride one Alastair was unfamiliar to hime and a cold wind passed by passed by with the words “thank you,”

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Perspective Acrylic Dina Hernandez Nayeli Grade 10

Hi my name is Dina Hernandez I am a 10th grader and recently attending Summit High School. This is my first year making art in Summit High School. I recently discovered I really love painting. I like using Acrylic its my favorite type of paint. I also love making art it helps me stay calm and not stress. It’s also away of being able to focus on things that are not school related. Art makes me happy and I feel more creative I love painting and drawing things of nature most. I am not a professional painter but watching other people make art really inspires me I love art.

Balance

Our minds filter out the bad thoughts, but some of the thoughts just come out, and we can’t control them.

By David Castro Hidalgo

But that’s how we are built - to feel pain, love and to be balanced.

Balance is a thing that is inside of all of us.

This means that you have two sides.

A dark and evil side and a good and light side.

This causes balance, and it makes a person.

Every single person on the planet has dark and bad thoughts, but we also have good thoughts.

Our bodies are temples, and they hold all those thoughts.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR “Why frown when the sun goes down. If you’ll wake in the morning to such nice sounds. When the nighttime creeps, well your eyes might weep. But that’s moonlight tryna find nice people” This make’s me want to do art becuase I am a student from SHS. I am a sophomore my name is David and this quote is just saying why cry when you will be happy I don’t have a preference in art I just draw what comes to my mind even if it doesn’t make sense. My passion comes from my heart and my mind when im mad I just draw. To focuse the anger away from me and onto a paper.

Be Different Mixed Media Skylar Halverson | Grade 11

My name is Skylar, I am a current junior at Summit High School. I have lived in Breckenridge, Colorado for almost my entire life. My favorite medium is watercolor, as it allows me to balance control and have more freedom in my work. I have always been influenced by the nature and landscape that surrounds me, as I like using realism the most. From there I believe art means self expression, while I am able to use art to portray myself to the viewers.

A Painful Serenity

By Molly Nikkel

Then, I stopped.

There was nothing left that I could do.

The surface lay at the end of my reach, but something within me wouldn’t let me get there.

I sank.

The frigid water swept me under its grasp, dragging me further and further into the dark abyss. I kicked and pulled and fought and swam. Again and again, my muscles would fail me as I sank hopelessly.

The water calmly carried me to its floor, welcoming me to its eternal silence. There were no fish, no creatures, no life besides mine. I was alone in this vast body of water.

My eyes stung from the salt water as I tried desperately to look around to find something - anything that would indicate my safety.

I stopped moving‌thinking‌fighting, and drifted away, my mind at ease in the serene nothing of the water.

Nothing.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

My lungs burned for air as I put the rest of my energy into swimming upwards. The light of day coming closer and closer to my view. Almost there. I pulled harder, swam faster, kicked stronger.

My name is Molly Nikkel, and I am a senior at Summit High School. I have always been intrigued by art and writing from a young age, reading and drawing anything I could. I have started to write more as I entered high school, finding it fun to fabricate my own worlds.

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COVID-19 Quarantine COVID-19, also known as corona virus, was the global pandemic in 2020. This outbreak of this deadly virus affected many peoples lives. Summit County was affected in a way no one has seen before. Our community was almost a ghost town.

We asked students from Summit County to create art during this global pandemic. The following art is what was submitted.

Dead Main Digital Photography Caroline Fischer | Grade 10 My name is Caroline Fischer and I am a freshman at Summit High School. My interests and comfort in art have changed over the short course of the semester. Painting with acrylic paint is my favorite medium. While working on my art, I think that I struggle the most with thinking of the final product and get caught up with the portion that I am working on at that point. I am a big animal person, so I think that inspires some of my work.

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COVID-19 Art Collection

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COVID-19 Art Collection

Drowning in Perspectives Acrylic Lucy Fiedler | Grade 11 120

COVID-19 Art Collection

PANDEMIC Mixed Media Ella Eland | Grade 10 Bio on page . . . 89

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COVID-19 Art Collection

Untitled Sharpie Maker Kaitlyn Carney | Grade 12 “People are like robots out here in the world, graffiti separates us from being a robot in everyday life.” ~Skuf This quote has always been one of my favorites because I believe people don’t really think about the decisions they make and what influences their choices and actions.Don’t believe everything you hear & see in popular culture, on TV or social media.I try to look at things from an overarching perspective, I try to look at things from a way I haven’t looked at them before and maybe make other people think about things in a different way. My art is mostly for me, but also to portray universal human emotions in some way. When someone looks at my work, I want them to feel some kind of emotion, which might be unique to the individual, but also perhaps a universal emotion.

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COVID-19 Art Collection

Untitled Arcylic Kaitlyn Carney | Grade 12

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COVID-19 Art Collection

Time

By Anonymous Time doesn’t make sense anymore.

I’m not saying it ever did. I’m not saying that in all the centuries humans have spent on this planet that we have had the capacity to understand the intricacies of the fourth dimension. In fact, I tend to enjoy the paradox of time, being a measurable thing that changes as people perceive it. But I have never known a time when the world stood so still.

The days of the week still stay the same. I can get up in the morning and know intrinsically that it is Wednesday. Or Saturday.

Or any day in between. But somehow that feels less significant. Every day is today until it fades into yesterday and later becomes now. There is no schedule when time means nothing, and some days the pills I’m supposed to take daily don’t even make it out of the bottles. Time melts around me in blurry definition, beckoning me into its depths to find meaning in the world.

My days in quarantine are spent in thought, though not the type of thought other people would like to see. My parents and teachers beg me continuously to look at my schoolwork, to just do one thing, anything. The threat of failure looms over me, and yet I can’t bring myself to do what they want. I read, instead, and listen to folk mu-

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sic through old earbuds. I draw fantastical cities and take my dog on walks, and somehow I can’t help feeling that this is how life should be?

I am fortunate enough that I do not suffer the larger repercussions of the virus. But I do know that I am feeling peace. So the thought of others in the world being deprived of that same peace because of socio-economic status, class, or race, awakens a discontent in me.

This time is different. It is hard. It is confusing and sometimes scary. But I know that this time will fade into yesterday. And I cannot bear the thought of returning to times before, where time was something we were always running out of and never something we stopped to hold.

I hope life resumes. But I hope in greater measure that it never goes back to the way that it was. I hope that through this social pause we can see the fallacies of our own society and work to strengthen it, not by focusing on divides as we so often do, but by focusing on our common humanity. We went through this together. We lived this time together. And the only way we can move forward is if we do it together.

I just hope we don’t run out of time to do it.

COVID-19 Art Collection

COVID-19

By Riley Lovejoy Gloves and masks cover our skin Stay 6 feet, wash your hands Feeling trapped in my room Oh, how tragic this has all been When, oh when, can we go back To the way it’s been?

Stuck in quarantine Contained in an all-town lockdown Stay 6 feet, and wash your hands Bio on page . . . 107

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Simplicity Hands tell a story without any context. Looking at those two peices of art, people can relate to each photo in their own way. Hands, unlike a face are known for emotional expression, but hands can tell you how a person is feeling or their troubles in life.

The point of these drawings are to connect the auidence to a memory that they can relate to the piece of art.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR My name is Abby Daugherty and I am the Graphic designer of this years Imagine book. I wanted to show the art that I have created, so I am going to use the last few pages of this book to show you my art.

The next spread is my photography, you can find more of my photograhy on the back of the book.

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Between Two Extremes This is an exhibit presented by Summit County Teens with a focus on the redifinition and illumination of mental health.

Mental health is consant flux and can oscillate between extremes of postivie and negetive. the work presented gives locals and visitors the space to destigmatize mental issues together and to start the conversation about prioritizing mental health in today’s busy world.

The next piece of art was created by Abby Daughtery and is one of the submissions for the exhibit.

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Acknowledgments This is the 3rd edition of the collection, Imagine, and it is encouraging to see how well it continues to be received. Students are eager to submit their artwork and writing, and the community local bookstores, parents, teachers, non-profits - show such overwhelming support.

A huge thanks to all the writers and artists who submitted their work for this book and to Matthew Shaffer for the front cover artwork of Lake Dillon, a familiar and much-loved landscape. Thank you all for being brave enough to put yourself out there and share your creativity with us. This was an especially challenging year for students, and we thank those who added extra submissions reflecting on their experience in quarantine and on the life of Toby Gard.

We appreciate all the students in the National Art Honors Society who stepped up to lead this project. They will continue to spearhead this book in the coming years. Thank you to all the teachers who made this possible - Karen Fischer, Sharon Speedy and Sarah Revel, High School Art Teachers, Sonya Dalrymple, Young Writers Club instructor at BreckCreate, Andria Barberi, 6th grade Language Arts Teacher, and Summit High School for sharing about this opportunity with their students. And thank you to Anna Faulk, owner of Incline Business Essentials for helping to edit several of the writing selections.

Summit High School senior, Abby Daugherty, was selected as the graphic designer for this project this year. She became an expert with the technology and added her own creativity and nuances to the layout and design. She is graduating from SHS and plans to attend Western Washington University.

A special thank you to all who purchase this book. Your donations will go to support a favorite local organization benefiting Summit County, Building Hope. They have countless resources available to our community around mental and emotional health and huge hearts to love and lead.

We’d also like to thank Breckenridge Creative Arts for being a partner in this book project and an advocate for the arts in Summit County.

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ABOUT BRECKENRIDGE CREATIVE ARTS Established in 2014, Breckenridge Creative Arts (BCA)—or BreckCreate for short—was developed by the Town of Breckenridge to support and promote arts, culture and creative experiences throughout Breckenridge. This multidisciplinary nonprofit organization is responsible for the successful management of a series of programs, properties and partnerships that collectively animate and populate a cultural corridor in the heart of downtown Breckenridge. From quality performing and visual arts to the development of one of the region’s newest arts districts, Breckenridge Creative Arts is a transformative force for Breckenridge and the greater Summit County community.

ABOUT THE AFTER SCHOOL WRITING CLUB The After School Writing Club is for middle-school students, and meets every Tuesday from 5-6:30 pm in Old Masonic Hall. Join us for inspiration, fun, and guidance in creative writing. Each week, the group will tackle new elements of the short story, poetry, flash fiction, novel writing, and more.

Students will also have the opportunity to submit work to be featured in this collection of local writing, published annually. To ensure a spot, register online. Walk-ins also welcome, first-come, first-served.

For more information contact sonya@sonyadalrymple.com

ABOUT BUILDING HOPE Building Hope Summit County is a community-wide initiative designed to create a more coordinated, effective and responsive mental health system that promotes emotional health, reduces stigma and improves access to care and support for everyone in Summit County. Their resources include a network of counselors, therapists, community events, and support groups.

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Designed by Abby Daugherty, with Inspiration from Jeremy Baxter’s Design from Imagine 2019 and Angela Knightly’s Original Design from Imagine 2018

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