The Write Touch

2020

A Literary Magazine by Youth Authors and Artists of Council Bluffs, Iowa

Front Cover:

Reflection

Makinzie Bedford

Grade 11, Abraham Lincoln High School

The Write Touch 2020

37th Annual Literary Magazine

by Youth Authors and Artists

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Introduction The Write Touch is published annually by the Council Bluffs Community School District in cooperation with the Council Bluffs Optimist Club. Students in the Council Bluffs Community Schools, Lewis Central Community Schools, Saint Albert Catholic Schools, Heartland Christian School, Children’s Square U.S.A., and Iowa School for the Deaf are invited to submit entries.

The Council Bluffs Community School District, The Lewis Central Community School District, Saint Albert Catholic Schools, Heartland Christian School, Children’s Square U.S.A. and Iowa School for the Deaf provide instruction and encouragement to young writers and artists. It is our desire to share their original written work (with editor rights) and original artwork with school patrons and citizens of Council Bluffs.

The selection of literary works to be published is determined each year by a panel of judges from The Council Bluffs Optimist Club. Area art teachers selected the student art work that is showcased.

We hope that you enjoy this literary magazine and that you remember the citizens of this community who have made this production possible.

Dr. Corey Vorthmann Chief Academic Officer

Council Bluffs Community School District

Roger Williams The Council Bluffs Optimist Club

The Write Touch can be accessed online at the Council Bluffs Community School District’s website at www.cb-schools.org, under ‘District’, then ‘Write Touch.’

Acknowledgements Our thanks to the following people for making this literary magazine possible: Interstate Printing Company, where the magazine was printed Daniel Stinman, Communications Specialist, designed and edited the magazine layout Carrie Nepple, English Language Arts Curriculum Specialist 6-12, coordinated literary items and process Michaela Hill, Visual and Performing Arts Curriculum Specialist K-12, coordinated art selection process Dr. Vickie Murillo, Superintendent, Council Bluffs Community School District The Council Bluffs Optimist Club

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Write Touch Magazine

Table of Contents

Page 1

When Hippos Fly by Abbylee Lustgraaf I Notice You by Lilly Hiatt

Page 13

Page 2

Childhood Memories by Jesus Barajas Silence is Really Loud by Jade Schrier

Page 14 Earth Eye by Sterlyn Aragon The Shore by Gabryela Galvan

Page 3

Billy the Extraordinary by Josh Womochil Cross Country by Paige Bracker

Page 4

Page 5

Stage Fright by Isabella Cain WC Flower by Megan Witte

Page 15 Blue Series by Mallory Miller Dirt and Blood by Kaden Krauth

Page 16 Baseball by Cole Pekny Dear Future Self by Camryn Hosick

DW Street by Damian Wilson The Honor Band by Ella Hanson

Page 17 Out of this World by Rylee Tierney Emotions by Amy Martin

Page 6

Henry and Baloo by Kaylee Salmons Rain by Theodore Oswald

Page 7

Old Hickory Manor by Kate Schleifman Yellow Paradise by Eric Matthai

Page 18 Forged in Blood by CJ Hansen Butterfly Bones

by Enrique Zambrano Jaramillo

Page 8

The Zombie Files #1 by Deegan Tanner Warm Eye, Cool Skin

by Marisol Ceballos Rodriguez

Page 19

Imagine by Aubree Poppino Jumping in Puddles by Abbigale Olson

Untitled by Anna Wyler

Page 20 Why Him? by Alizia Frieze Sky Cat by Ava Jarrell

Page 9

Pink Flower by Kalista Nipper

Page 21 Sorrow by Zoe Montenegro A New World by Vanessa White

Page 10

Natural Beauty by Keyli Sandoval Fears by Haylee Eledge

Page 22 The Shadow Mansion by TJ Nipper On Top of the World by Taylor Hartenhoff

Page 11

Turning of Attention by Lee Mathis Growing Older by Gracie Starr

Page 12

Take the Stage by Kirsten Spurgin The Old Guitarist by Kyleigh Moore

Page 23 Mountains by Ben O'Neill There's This Girl In My Class

by Kendall Robbins

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Page 24

Once Second Gone by Josi Clark

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When Hippos Fly

Abbylee Lustgraaf

Grade 11, Abraham Lincoln High School

I Notice You Lilly Hiatt

Grade 7, Wilson Middle School

I notice you. I notice when you get scared, you tend to look downwards. Or, when you are happy, you cannot contain your big, amazing, bright smile. I notice when you’re nervous, you bite your nails. I notice how your red hair looks more orange in the winter than in the summer. I notice how when you are embarrassed your face turns red, but that doesn’t happen often because you are proud of who you are and what you do. I notice how caring and kind you are towards others. I notice you and all the things you do. I notice how when you smile at me, my heart beats fast, and my face gets red hot. I notice that when you laugh at my jokes, my brain thinks faster so I can come up with another one to hear the beautiful music of your laugh. The music that is so dear to my heart.

I notice all the things you do, but I wish you would notice me. I wish you would notice how I am more nervous when I talk to you, more nervous than when I talk to anyone else. Or, how you’re the only one who brings out a real smile. But... that is okay because I would rather not tell you to your face. I just deal because I’m afraid that I will lose you to the way I feel.

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Childhood Memories Jesus Barajas

Grade 8, Saint Albert Middle School 2008-2017 were some of the best times of my life, Where everyone had fun and road on their bikes, When GANGNAM STYLE came out, And everyone was talking about it for hours.

When we woke up from bed and you saw there was snow, All you could do is turn on the tv and watch regular shows.

When life is simple and you don't need to have a phone to have fun, You would go outside in the summer and play with water guns.

We sat down with something that gave us so much joy, It was none other than our little Game Boy. And one of the games that were nothing but beauty, Is everyone’s favorite Call of Duty.

And in 2016 when Lil Uzi was the best, And everyone listened to him and they all thought they were impressed.

When kids came to school with a Lunchable, And some others came with the jelly flavored Uncrustable.

And Nickelodeon was everyone's favorite TV station, And everyone wanted to go to Great Wolf Lodge on their vacation.

When you play GTA 5 all the way through, When you and your boys played in Fortnite season 2.

Silence is Really Loud

Jade Schrier

Grade 12, Lewis Central High School

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Billy the Extraordinary Josh Womochil

Grade 7, Wilson Middle School

Billy just seems like a normal boy, but truly he is extraordinary. When Billy’s parents heard about a severe weather storm approaching, they took shelter. The storm got really bad, and a tornado started. After what seemed like hours, the storm was over. When they went outside, they were horrified. Their neighbor's house was gone. Billy went to what was left of the house, and he was wondering where his neighbor was. Right at that moment, he heard someone calling for help. It was his neighbor!

Billy was startled at first and thought about what to do. His parents were busy helping others scavenge for small things like pictures and other meaningful items. He decided to help the neighbor himself.

He yelled, “Where are you?”

He just heard more cries. Finally he located her and started telling her it would be okay.

As he pulled rubbage off of her, he said, “I will come back with help.”

Billy dashed towards his parents. Billy told his parents the neighbor was hurt, and he got her out. He and his parents dashed back over to their lawn and called an ambulance while Billy's dad helped the neighbor. The ambulance came within minutes. Later on, the neighbor introduced herself as Mrs. Geri. Mrs. Geri thanked Billy so much. She gave Billy a friendship that would never end. Even today Mrs. Geri and Billy are still neighbors, and their friendship is going strong.

Cross Country

Paige Bracker

Grade 10, Abraham Lincoln High School

It was my first season of high school cross country. I had been training all summer to get in shape and to prepare for my first meet. Every morning I would wake up very early and run and work super hard to push myself. The first day of practice was coming up very soon, this meant time trials were just around the corner. Time trials were a very important day; it would determine what team everyone was on and how everyone was in comparison to teammates. I remember how stressed and nervous I was for this day.

I had to prove to myself and to my coaches that I could run and that I was a good runner. Like always, everyone began to show up to practice, and we went up to the track to warm up. The sun was slowly starting to come up, and it was the perfect temperature for running. Before every race you feel this special feeling that is very hard to describe or to have people who don’t run races create in their minds. It is a very nervous feeling; however, at the same time, a very exciting feeling. Your heart races until the moment the gun goes off; then you feel a little bit of relief. It is a nervousness that is scared to feel pain, scared to push past your limits. Every nerve in your body is on edge, your head is just so stressed, and you just get nervous you won’t show off your best self to your team, coaches, parents, and spectators.

We all lined up at the stop sign on Bohnam to begin time trials. The coaches tell us to go, and we go. A certain mindset sets in, dig, run, push, and stay focused. You have to understand what you are trying to do, and the faster you run the faster you are done. We run up hills, pushing ourselves as our muscles are so tight and sore. Then accelerating down the hills as our legs are carrying our whole bodies.

As I come around the final corner, I am in the lead. I was running so well and felt like it was going to be a good season. We finish time trials, and the teams for the first meet are set. Seven are on varsity, and the rest are on junior varsity. It felt so cool to be the only freshman on varsity, and I felt very accomplished. I felt like I was then held to higher standards since I was doing so well and was the youngest.

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Stage Fright Isabella Cain

Grade 10, Abraham Lincoln High School

I was once told, you only succeed if you overcome your greatest fears. I had many fears from spiders to the dark, but there was one I didn’t know I had until it was thrown in my face. Stage fright. I had never before experienced stage fright in prior dance recitals or in school concerts, but it was on the stage that I felt scared to death for the first time. I had a role in the play Fiddler on the Roof Jr. at the Rose Theater. It was my first time ever going on stage singing, performing, and saying lines.

The night before the show I was prepared. There was nothing that could go wrong, or so I thought. All I could think about were my lines running through my head over and over. I played a small role as Sasha and only said a few lines, but I was nervous to perform. The whole night I tossed and turned and kept thinking about how I could screw up.

I walked into the dark theater, and spots filled my eyes as I looked around for my friend Nicolette. I saw her immediately after I walked into the entrance, smiling and very excited. She was the one who convinced me to do the play, and now I was regretting it.

Time felt like it was going in slow motion. Everyone was anticipating the show and talking about who they invited to come watch. It was three hours before the show, two hours, one hour, thirty minutes. I was starting to panic not knowing what to do with myself. I paced the dressing room and talked to the other cast members.

Ten minutes felt like an hour. Everyone was peeking through the curtains to see if they could find family or friends. I spotted my mom right away, seated next to my dad. They had no idea what to expect as my parents were never into music. My mom did yearbook, and my dad wrestled. Music was a foreign language to them.

The time came, and the scene started. I could feel myself start to panic. I started to walk on stage and to sit at the table, and that’s when I looked out at the audience and froze. I stared straight at the wall behind the back row, and I could feel myself turning pale under the bright lights. Darkness surrounded the edges of my eyes, and I felt like I was going to pass out. I blinked trying to get rid of the fuzziness and trying to calm myself. I convinced myself I was going to be okay and said my lines without a flaw.

We had more shows, and I felt more energy. I was ready to do anything. I was able to sing in front of an audience, make friends, and learn a better appreciation for music.

WC Flower Megan Witte

Grade 12, Lewis Central High School Write Touch Magazine

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DW Street

Damian Wilson

Grade 8, Wilson Middle School

The Honor Band

Ella Hanson

Grade 10, Abraham Lincoln High School

It was an early, chilly, and dark Saturday morning in December. My alarm buzzed, and I was awoken with intense nerves and jitters. My freshly ironed dress was hung in my closet. As I got dressed, I thought about all of the work and effort I had put into getting ready for this day. It was here, and there was no more time. This was how prepared I was. No more lessons. No more late-night practices. No more frustrations over missed high notes. Today was the day. The day to show and prove that I was prepared and capable of being part of the Southwest Iowa Honor Band. As I brushed my teeth, I remembered the countless times I had been in for lessons upon lessons. All leading up to this one day. “I am ready. I am ready,” I repeated to myself as I curled my hair. Today was the day I had been working towards for three months, and it was finally here! As I grabbed my clarinet case and music, I triple checked that I had enough extra reeds and cork grease.

The best memory of this day came on the ride to school with my dad. My dad was, and still is, someone I look up to a lot. He has always been encouraging, kind, and understanding. My dad helped me through and is still helping me through some of the hardest things in my life. I remember him telling me how proud he was in my effort and dedication.

On that crisp morning, my dad said to me, “Ella, I am very proud of you, and no matter what happens I will be here to support you.”

I remember whispering back, “Thanks dad,” and giving him a big hug.

To this day, even after all of the festivities and nerves were over, the moment I remember the most is this moment with my dad. I remember how much this moment reassured me of what I was about to partake. Without the support of my dad and other family members, I don’t think my SWIBA experience would have been the same.

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Henry and Baloo Kaylee Salmons

Grade 11, Lewis Central High School

Rain

Theodore Oswald

Grade 8, Saint Albert Middle School Sitting, lying, still Outside it is not still Trees swaying, worms crawling Small pools of clear liquid emerging out of the ground The sounds, rustling, pounding of the rain The gentle boom of thunder rolling across the terrain The sound of the droplets assaulting the roof It all melds together in perfect harmony Suddenly, it stops Still, for a moment there is peaceful silence Then the songs begin, sung by their small singers in the trees Flying through the moist air Splashes; from small boots, eager to jump & get out On the horizon, a beautiful ring emerges from behind the clouds, Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet light contrasts the gray clouds Then clouds form again overhead Another boom of thunder alerts the children to come back inside All while I sit inside, watching through a window, Sitting, lying, still Write Touch Magazine

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Old Hickory Manor Kate Schleifman

Grade 9, Abraham Lincoln High School Century corpses, or so they say, Life lost in the branch decay Rays hindered in this nook of town Somehow I’ve yet to come falling down Light, oh light, the absence of thee Has caused not one but many a soul to flee Old hickory manor, paint or stain? Paint or stain?

That lies atop the walls disdain Oh, the evening weeps, how wrenching they grew As merciless fates were placed before you A rope and a drop and a flame of course, The hunters bloodthirsty, by no means remorsed Century corpses, or so they say, Life lost in the branch decay Rays hindered in this nook of town Somehow I’ve yet to come falling down

Yellow Paradise Eric Matthai

Grade 11, Saint Albert High School

Endless fields of sunflowers Rhythmically swinging in the wind, To the distant horizon line Touching the edge of the sky, Melting into the afternoon beautifulness Boiling with shades of yellow Creating one burning sunshine.

The color yellow sinks deep into the reflecting sky, Mixed with the cluster of pure clouds Being pushed north by the winds of the deep south.

The sunflowers continue to sway, Endlessly and forever.

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The Zombie Files #1 Deegan Tanner

Grade 6, Lewis Central Middle School Warren

I slowed to a stop as I realized that the zombies had given up on chasing me. I turned down 11th Street and headed for the red brick house in the middle of a cornfield. I stopped at the edge of the cornfield and looked to see if I could see any movement in the house, hoping that I could see my parents. No sign of any life. I closed my eyes as I turned away from the red brick house, giving up all my hope that there was anyone left in the city or even maybe the world if it spread that big. I jumped as I heard something fall to my left. I ran down back to 9th Street and turned down 12th Avenue just to get some distance between my house and what may now be a zombie family. I walked inside a tall building on 12th Street and looked around. There weren’t any zombies from what I could see so I sat on the torn up couch in the corner. Before I knew it, I was passed out in a deep sleep.

Kingston

I broke through a window as a cannibal corpse began chasing me. I ran into a building down 3rd Street and kept running. The zombies were right on my tail. I looked over to my side and saw a kid run the other way down 12th Avenue. I stopped for a second; I couldn’t believe that there was another survivor. I thought I was the only one. I got snapped back to reality as the footsteps of the monsters came closer. I started to run again. This time as fast as possible, so I could go explore 12th Avenue and look for the kid. I turned and turned - going in a zig zag trying to get rid of the zombies. I finally lost the undead but didn’t stop running as if I was still running from something that I didn’t know of but my body did. I finally came to a stop after the feeling of something else was chasing me. I turned around and headed to 12th Avenue to look for the kid I saw. This time I walked wanting to save my energy and to see how much damage was done to my hometown.

Narrator

Now I don’t believe in destiny, but they now knowing that there might be more than what they thought out in the world leaves me to believe that destiny has some part. They had been thinking that they were the last kids that had a brain and didn’t have green skin and holes in their chest until Kingston found Warren on the couch in the building and woke him up. Now they are making their way to Kingston’s house to find things so that they can fight off the ankle biters.

Warm Eye, Cool Skin Marisol Ceballos Rodriguez Grade 6, Wilson Middle School Write Touch Magazine

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Pink Flower Kalista Nipper

Grade 9, Iowa School for the Deaf

A girl sits in class with a shining pink flower blooming in her heart. Five pink petals standing tall: her mind, heart, body, identity, and pride are full of joy. Sarah is a clever student, has a deaf family, and is a successful girl. In the classroom, she answers all the questions.

One student asks Sarah, “You think you’re better than us? Well you’re not. You’re awful!”

Sarah believes she should not answer questions so they will like her. Sarah stood quietly, while one shining pink petal fell as her joy faded.

She packed her bag and went to her next class.

A boy bumped into her, yelling “Watch out! Can’t you do anything right?”

Sarah was speechless. One shining pink flower petal starts to fall.

Sarah walked in her next class, the teacher handed her a paper. She got an A+.

A little joy sparked, but one girl asked, “What did you get?”

“I got an A,” Sarah replied humbly.

The girl rolled her eyes and sneered. A shining pink petal slowly fell, landing on the ground. The remaining petals stood together weakly holding onto one another.

In the cafeteria full of people, Sarah was all alone. One shining pink flower petal fell with her tears. Floating, starting to fade, the petal sinks to the ground. She sat alone with one pink flower shining still.

Sarah did not think she could survive through the heavy darkness without her light. Until one day when a deaf-blind woman came to her school. She shared her story on how she would never give up even though her world was dark and lonely at times. Sometimes, you have to find your own light.

For weeks, all Sarah could think about was that if a deaf-blind woman can survive all the horror she has been through, then Sarah can too.

Sarah was done with the darkness inside her. She wanted her joy back, she wanted her pink flower shining bright again. From now on, Sarah would not let the harsh kids get into her mind. She stood up tall, threw her fake mask onto the ground as the pieces shattered like they were worth nothing.

She got her food and sat down with her friends who bullied her.

She sat down with a smile on her face, saying, “Hi, what did you get for lunch?”

They looked at each other quietly, as she smiled brightly at them.

In class, Sarah received another A. Her classmate rolled her eyes and sneered.

Sarah replied humbly, “I would love to study with you.”

The girl was shocked and smiled back. The last shining pink petal no longer stood alone and weak. It grew from the tears it soaked in.

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Natural Beauty Keyli Sandoval

Grade 10, Lewis Central High School

Fears

Haylee Eledge

Grade 8, Wilson Middle School I’m scared I’m scared of being different I’m scared of change I’m scared that everything I do Is gonna blow up in my face I’m scared that taking a chance Might mean changing my life I’m scared that if I’m different I’ll get even more hate I’m scared of doing what I love Because it’s not accepted I’m scared of being myself Because it’s not accepted I’m scared of having these friends Because they’re not accepted But sometimes you gotta take that chance Be different Be yourself It could be the best decision of your life Sometimes you just have to choose to be scared Write Touch Magazine

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Turning of Attention Lee Mathis

Grade 12, Thomas Jefferson High School

The whir of a broken fan, clicking and hitting against the wall as it rotates. Turn, just to click, click, click again.

The smell of hot fruit. Like tangerines and the mixture of an older woman's perfume: sour and sweet, something that causes a sick feeling when indulged in. Sticky, the hot sun pouring in through the open windows of the classroom.

Ahead, on the board, the chalk is dusty and bright against that dirty shade of green. The same color you’d expect to find in water full of leaves - the kind people are forced to drink when no clean water can be found. Filled with disease, mostly untouched. Not a living thing. With fish tangled in algae, sticks poking out of their water prison.

Lakesh tapped his fingers along the smooth surface of his desk, taking in a few of the designs that had been etched. A light tan with scratches with names like ‘Sybil’ or a faded pencil drawing of a man in glasses. Lines shaky, smudged, and long-forgotten by the artist. He had the power to add to the canvas but decided against it.

“Mr. Pujari?” the teacher whispered, nails gently tapping in the center of his working space, “Are you doing alright?”

Her name was Mrs. Ganga - the name of the holiest river in India. She was small in height, a dark red lipstick always decorating her lips. She chose nice dresses to wear, her voice was gentle. Thick, dark hair, pulled back - most likely to show off her bindi, a jewel, usually red and in the shape of a raindrop. She was aware that Lakesh had hypoglycemia, his lack of focus stirred anxiety into her very core. The class had watched as Lakesh had passed out once before; Adweta searching through her school bag to find something from her lunch. Why hadn’t he told anyone prior that he needed something to eat or drink? Perhaps it was the anxiety of interrupting the class - having to take away time so selfishly.

Lakesh stared out of the window...a wolf passing by in the distance, a rabbit in its maw. Seemingly dazed, eyes glossed over. In all reality, he didn’t seem all that well. A leaf on a twig, shaking in the air.

“Just leave me alone! I’m fine,” he barked, sniffling as he hung his head, lips curled in a toothy snarl, nostrils flaring. Hands now rolling into a ball, clothing clenched between each talon.

She had seen this reaction before but figured maybe he’d tell her prior to this. That maybe, just maybe, this time he’d get help for himself…push came to shove, initiative was her responsibility. Sauntering off, dress flowing behind her as she walked.

Lakesh turned his attention back to the wolf - only for it to be gone. Disappointment rising in his chest, like fire. Embers blowing in the wind, just to disappear. Slowly going as the panic rises. If he hadn’t been bothered, he could have watched.

Growing Older

Gracie Starr

Grade 7, Wilson Middle School

Everyday you grow older. Even though it doesn't feel like it, you grow older. Soon enough, your mom is going to be crying when you go to prom for the first time, or when you go off to college, or when you graduate. Then finally, she’ll cry on your wedding day. Your mom will always likely be your best friend. Your whole life she has cried for you and put her life on hold for you to have the things you want. She will be with you even on the darkest days.

So remember, even when you grow older, you are still a little kid in her eyes.

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Write Touch Magazine

Take the Stage

Kirsten Spurgin

Grade 12, Abraham Lincoln High School

“DING!” The sound of the bell rang in my ears as I opened the weighted glass door. My nostrils were instantly flooded with espresso and chaos. An immense amount of chatter caused the room to feel as if it were vibrating. I made my way to the makeshift stage the shop had created for me. I let out cheesy giggles and toothy grins as the butterflies in my stomach began to fly about with an exuberant amount of uncontrollable intensity. My eyes jumped about the room. As I settled into my environment, I began to notice a constant throbbing sensation occurring at the tips of my fingers. I peered down to see that I had made semi-permanent divots on my fingers from practicing the entire day, getting ready for this moment. Yet, I still couldn’t help but feel utterly unprepared. Visions of everything that could go wrong played on repeat inside my head.

Nevertheless, I made my way to the front of the shop, and with every step a new set of eyes became locked on me. By the time I was on the stage, there wasn’t a person in the crowd who wasn’t looking at me. All of a sudden, my stomach began to churn, and my face felt like static. I clung to my guitar for dear life and parked my lips next to the cold metal microphone. I proceeded to introduce myself in the smallest, shakiest voice ever produced by a human being. However, it caused the thunderous clouds of voices to drop to dead silence in a matter of .02 seconds.

After what seemed like an eternity, my set was over. I walked away still shaking from the amount of anxiety that had been coursing through every inch of my bloodstream. Finally, I was able to collect myself -- until the next artist came up and put me to shame. She was more talented, more calm, and by far, more experienced than me. I was filled with embarrassment.

As I left that night, I received many compliments while I walked out the door. However, due to my perception, the comments felt both empty and ingenuine. After I got home and in bed that night, I had convinced myself that I would never do anything like that again. “Some people just aren’t meant for that kind of thing,” I told myself, “I can probably find something more ‘behind the scenes’ that I can do with music.”

But ever since that day, music performance has been an enormous part of my life. It’s hard to believe that at the age of fourteen, I was more than ready to give up on performing entirely, only for the mere fact that it frightened me. If I had not chosen to try again, I would have missed out on doing the thing I believe I am meant to do for the rest of my life. It is as Art Garfunkel said, “Everything worth doing starts with being scared.”

The Old Guitarist Kyleigh Moore

Grade 8, Lewis Central Middle School The streets aren’t meant for those who have everything, Only the old and worrisome humans who must lay cold on them every night Without a thing to keep them going.

All that's needed is an excuse for a wooden box with strings, Except this one plays the most joyous of sounds, A guitar is all he needs, not new clothes or vision.

Feet crossed on the ground, his trembling fingers glide down the strings A peaceful and pretty sound that brought a shy smile to his cracked lips His skin clung to his bones like oil on canvas, But this doesn't matter, for he had found something greater.

And as the sun began to set yet again, The man and his guitar will finally rest, but only for a second.

On the cold streets of Barcelona, Spain, that's all anyone thinks he’s worth, Until he begins to play his song again because now they know his purpose.

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Imagine

Aubree Poppino

Grade 9, Abraham Lincoln High School Imagine: You’re in a room. There’s a fire going on in the opposite room. A beautiful, old, generational dark oak desk is in front of you. There are many yellowed sheets of stationary present in front of you, all blank. You start to write. Nothing in particular, just anything. You’re calm.

Imagine: It’s dark, the sun has set, the birds have stopped singing, the stars decorate the sky, and the curtains are drawn.

Outside the windows, you can hear the trees brushing against each other from the slight breeze of the night. The only light in the room comes from the candles placed throughout, and the warm glow dances on the ceiling and walls. You’re at peace.

Imagine: You’ve now moved into the brown, well-used armchair placed a comfortable distance from the fire. The wood crackles as you glance at the wall covered in bookshelves, waiting for one to shout your name. There it is. At the far corner, middle shelf, there’s the one. Covered with red cloth, it sits covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s obviously old, but something about it just makes sense. You stand, walk over, pick it up. It’s heavier than it looks but not because of the material it’s made of. It holds memories, words written from years past. You sit down again. You’re excited.

Imagine: Wow, the book you chose is just incredible. It’s filled with many different tales that take you on diverse journeys.

No wonder this book stood out to you; it’s just perfect. After reading this, your mind is elsewhere, distant. You take the weathered book, stand up and put it back on the shelf. You’ll never forget that book, filled with vibrant, colorful stories that could make anyone awe. You walk out of the study, blowing out the candles as you go. The sweet scent of vanilla and caramel, now ash. You walk down the hallway, shutting off the lights as you make your way to your bedroom. You change into some pajamas and climb into your cozy bed, peacefully drifting off to sleep, dreaming of the wonders of the book. You’re sleeping.

Jumping in Puddles Abbigale Olson

Grade 12, Abraham Lincoln High School I calmed the storm inside of me: the tears stopped falling, the frustration ceased striking, the voice died down, and the shaking moved on...

Sure, it’s a lil’ damp and muddy, but I’ve always loved jumping in puddles.

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Write Touch Magazine

Earth Eye

Sterlyn Aragon

Grade 11, Iowa School for the Deaf

The Shore

Gabryela Galvan

Grade 10, Thomas Jefferson High School

For almost all of my life, I was always trapped in discontent. Nothing about me was satisfied, and I felt out of place where I previously resided - despite how all of the people I knew showed nothing but sympathy for me. I felt as though I was confined to one home, to one part of the world, and I would never get to see more of this world.

I began to walk outwards into the ocean, taking in a deep breath to smell the air, enjoying how the wind tousled my hair and hit my face. This is what I had always wanted; this is what I always yearned for. I yearned for the freedom that the sea offered; I longed to feel the wind on my face everyday. But as far as I was aware, there were never any opportunities that had offered their mercy to me, so my wishes sunk down into the depths of my mind, aching for me to stop chasing the fantasy they bestowed upon me. I never stopped, and my heart thanks me for not doing so. Every night I would go out to the shore and stand there, similar to what I do now, and gaze out at the sea, watching every ripple, and observing how the moon reflected off the water. Then, when I would look out at the waters, I wouldn’t feel calm or free. I would feel all of my worries of never leaving this cage. I was confined in the cage - weighing me down, threatening to drag me into the darkest depths of my mind.

I turned my gaze to the home that was anchored down. My mind drifted to our captain - how he’ll be in his hammock, reading to keep his mind buzzing and awake. He’s a tall man, with a wild mane of hair and eyes that are cold and calculating to the eyes of the public. He adored the sea more than I craved it, and that is what I was drawn to.

One day, my feet led me to town, and I spotted him carrying crates filled with a multitude of food. I must have stared at him for too long, because soon, our eyes locked for what felt like an eternity. Before time could go on longer, he offered me a smile and asked me if there was something I needed. I shook my head and mumbled a soft ‘no’. I wasn’t sure if he had heard me, as he had moved on, dipping his head in a silent farewell as he walked off with the large crate.

For the time being, I thought that such an interaction would only occur one time.

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Blue Series Mallory Miller

Grade 12, Abraham Lincoln High School

Dirt and Blood Kaden Krauth

Grade 12, Lewis Central High School

My gaze steadied and my eyesight cleared, only leaving me filled with dread as soon as I could make out my surroundings. Approaching me from directly ahead was a Vietnamese soldier with an M1911 pistol in his right hand. The Vietnamese weren’t rich, but they were resourceful. They took every liberty to ensure every bullet, shell, or bomb was being used to kill the highest number of soldiers as possible. This particular soldier was looking to make his bullets count; he didn’t fire randomly hoping to hit me. He had every intention of closing the distance between us where he knew his shot would connect…I decided I wasn’t going to give him a chance.

I peered out over my cover rock and took aim. Still the same hot sunny day, sweat and dirt covered my face, with bruised and dirt covered knuckles. I centered a man in my iron sight and for a brief moment, I hesitated. In a split second, I thought about what I was going to do. In less time than it takes to blink, I considered. This was a man I was about to kill - to end his life and any other chance for him to live on. There was something so unjust about it.

Who was I to be the judge, jury, and executioner for this man? Sure, everyone else told me, Viet Cong soldiers were all lying, scheming bastards who would do anything to put you in the ground. Maybe they were right, but I wasn’t the one to decide for this man. But after I had blinked, weighed the consequences in my head, I squeezed, heard the ring, saw the flash... and a man dropped dead to the ground. I had no time to weigh the consequences.

I found my next target and began to open fire; this is what I was trained for. This is what I had to do, to ensure the war stayed in Vietnam and didn’t end up a city block away from my home. A dozen more Vietnamese fighters descended upon our position, and these took no liberties or restraint with their munitions, firing left and right wherever they could see another enemy. We began to return fire and unloaded round after round at them.

While the gunfire screamed past, I could still hear my squadmates on the radio, screaming for reinforcements and artillery. They were coming but never fast enough.

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Baseball Cole Pekny

Grade 8, Saint Albert Middle School I walk to the plate with a mighty swagger, That pitcher thinks he’s got an easy strike out.

No way, I send a wink and an eye dagger, I’m gonna hit a digger no doubt.

Fast balls, curve balls, sliders and splitters, He thinks he knows me but I’m ready for him.

Fall, Winter, Spring practices make the better hitters, Lifting weights, running laps, fielding, hitting at the gym.

He can throw that heater right over the plate, Those balls don’t scare me at all.

I call them meatballs I can’t wait, This baby is going over the wall.

Bat flip, huge grin, I’m trotting the bases, The fans cheer and clap loudly.

Teammate high-fives in green and gold shoelaces, I see my parents looking at me proudly.

I love this game with all my heart, It makes me happy and very excited.

I see the baseball as a work of art, I will always play the game that is decided.

Dear Future Self Camryn Hosick

Grade 7, Wilson Middle School Dear Future Self,

I hope you fall in love with your life, even if it’s not everything you dreamed. I hope you find that there’s much more to life than waiting for a Snapchat from someone who you won’t even remember this time in a month, three months, or a year. You have too much going in your life to waste it on something so small or on someone who doesn’t think of you the way you think of them. I hope you know that test scores or social media don’t define your worth or how intelligent you really are.

I hope you are addicted to smiling every moment of your life because it’s the only way you can truly express your dignity and gratitude for others. I hope you realize that generosity, and kindness, and putting others' needs in front of your own, will put you farther ahead than others.

I hope that you understand that no matter what college you get into, even if it wasn’t your dream college, and if you aren’t majoring in what you dreamed of, it doesn’t matter that much. As long as you are getting an education, life will be good.

In the long run, I just hope you are happy! I hope you grow from what happened in middle school and high school. All of that stuff doesn’t matter now. Just live your life to the fullest!

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Out of this World Rylee Tierney

Grade 7, Wilson Middle School

Emotions Amy Martin

Grade 12, Thomas Jefferson High School

Memories are moments of our past, full of information which we remember later. Memories are things that happened to us, sometimes with others or just by ourselves. But if a memory is a good or a bad one, if we want to remember it or rather push it in the deepest corner of our mind, that depends on the emotion that leads to the memory.

When anger leads my actions, I feel like I’m burning inside, like my body gets hotter and hotter, like there comes more and more air into my brain. And when there is too much air in my brain, it will explode. It feels like I just want to scream to let the fire out, the anger, and all those thoughts that make me mad, let it all out. But reality makes it sometimes impossible to scream. Then I try to close my eyes and breath, slowly and calm. Sometimes it helps, but sometimes the breathing makes me even more mad.

Another emotion we feel is fear. My body starts to panic and shake. My head starts sweating, and I imagine a worst case-scenario. I’m afraid, and I want someone to protect me. There are times when I start crying or screaming. I just wish my thoughts could stop for a second because they make me freak out.

Another emotion, the one that scares me the most, is sadness. In moments of sadness, I feel like my whole world collapses, and everything that I built up, relationships, memories, and imaginations, will just break and fall apart. I feel like something traps me, something heavy pushes me to the ground and won’t let me stand up again. Tears run down my face, and my heart starts beating faster. I remember memories that used to be good, but now I turn them around and think they’re bad. I just want to be alone and to cry it all out, or I want to share my sadness with someone I trust.

The emotion I want to feel the most is happiness. The feeling that my life takes the right path, and my dreams will come true. Then I feel free and just want to smile. I wish those moments would last forever. But most of the time, I think my happiness will be over soon or that I don’t deserve all the luck and something bad will follow. But it is the best to just enjoy every moment and to not think about what will happen next. Because sooner or later, the moment becomes a memory led by the emotion we chose to feel. We shouldn’t be afraid to feel anger or sadness because those emotions are important in order to be happy again.

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Forged in Blood CJ Hansen

Grade 8, Wilson Middle School A battle hardened warrior Blades of iron and steel.

A mind broken by war Unable to love and feel.

Trust, a commodity of old Unknown to you or me.

Soldiers do what they’re told The truth under lock and key.

Insanity sets in A mind flayed from rage.

In my head a constant din As of flies on meat bad from age.

My training falls shortened Home and family undefended.

The sights I see contorted But still, my prowess uncontended.

Everything fades My mind falls short.

Suddenly I'm back in the glades “A soldier again” I contort.

Butterfly Bones

Enrique Zambrano Jaramillo

Grade 11, Abraham Lincoln High School

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Untitled Anna Wyler

Grade 12, Thomas Jefferson High School 19

Write Touch Magazine

Why Him? Alizia Frieze

Grade 10, Abraham Lincoln High School

In 2011, all the chaos started to begin, and the tears came in. I was six years old and waiting in the doctor's office with the rest of my family, waiting for the results to come back. I sat in the brown leather chair with my elbows on my knees and my face stuffed in my hands anxiously waiting. When the doctor came out with a white lab coat, everyone's eyes got big when they looked up at him. The doctor started to talk, and that is when my heart wanted to sink to the floor.

“Gary has brain cancer and a tumor the size of a golf ball on the left lobe of his brain.”

Then the doctor proceeded to tell all of us that they only give him approximately six months to live. Everyone in the room was shocked and could not believe what was happening. When the doctor was done talking, I ran into the restroom to get some space.

I kept repeatedly saying in my head, “This can’t be happening!”

After five minutes, when I finally calmed down, I sauntered back into the waiting room and sat in the brown leather chairs once again.

As soon as we were able to go into his room and see him, I jumped out of my seat and raced to the door so that I could see him as soon as possible. When I walked in, I expected him to be crying or to be devastated, but he was neither.

He had a big old smile on his face, and he asked me that regular question, “Now, where’s my hug young lady?”

I ran into his arms with tears streaming down my face like a river. He looked me dead in the eye and asked me, “Why are you crying?”

I looked up to him and said, “Because you're going to leave me and I’ll never be able to see you again.”

He sighed and had a quick pause before he responded, “I'm never going to leave you Alizia. I’m always going to be in your heart, and you will see me again someday after we both go to heaven. And as soon as we are there, you are going to have to give me my hug, okay?”

“Yes, I love you.”

He kissed me on the head, “I love you too, more than you could ever know.”

Sky Cat Ava Jarrell

Grade 6, Kirn Middle School Write Touch Magazine

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Sorrow

Zoe Montenegro

Grade 8, Wilson Middle School

A New World Vanessa White

Grade 10, Abraham Lincoln High School

My eyes were half open. My first sight was two men looking at me. I began to widen my eyes even more. My heart began to pound rapidly when I realized who they were, police officers. Not again, not again would I be taken away, but this time was different. Little did I know I would not be coming back.

My name is Vanessa, and I was taken away from my mom when I was around five years old. It was a regular morning with my mother Crystal, well so I thought. Crystal was a young mother, my mother. She was too young to be taking care of a kid, but her heart was big and so was her smile so she embraced me for what I was, her daughter. She loved me, but that morning she had to give up something she loved, which was me. Police and social workers stood above me. I was confused and scared. This had happened many times before, but this time was different. My mom was awake and aware of what was happening. She had a sad, melancholy look on her face. I didn’t understand, nothing was of understanding at this point. I hugged my mom for which I wasn’t informed would be the last time. I felt the sadness of my mom’s tears and touch. So gentle, so lost. And like that I was gone.

Time went by, and I began to miss my mother more. I came to the realization that I would never see her again.

After this, the social workers began to put me in foster homes, temporary homes, and I had many of them. This was confusing to me, I had many people taking care of me but none of them were my family. None of them wanted me.

Well, they did for the money they would receive from the government. Family was what I was missing. I may have only had my mother and a few distant family members in the past, but I had love and passion, that is what these people were missing. Most foster families gave me the bare minimum, the basics of survival.

I had to rely on myself and had no family at a young age. This shaped me into an entirely different girl. I was shy.

I did not open up because I didn’t know how. I was scared. My past caused me to be fearful of everything and everyone, but I was still strong. I lived a life of fear, until the day of adoption. Adoption was something I was unaware of, I was too young and all I knew was temporary, nothing was permanent for me.

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Write Touch Magazine

The Shadow Mansion TJ Nipper

Grade 11, Iowa School for the Deaf

A creepy medieval-like mansion stands among swampy trees and lily pads. Thick fog and mist as grey as the sky surrounds the area as a small breeze blows, giving me goosebumps. The path I followed is flooded with mossy cobblestones. Fireflies flash by as a frog swings a tongue out grabbing its dinner. Crooked, mossy vines cover wooden stairs and thick wooden doors with rusty door handles hang upside down. I decide to open it. The door creaks open as it bumps into fallen twigs. A dusty grand staircase meets my gaze with its white railings. The chandelier is gigantic, entirely covered in white webs and dust.

Suddenly, a huge painting of a creepily dressed man opens - behind it a secret passageway. Inside, there’s a large message written in bloody handwriting in a foregin language sprawled across the crooked wall. There is a weird symbol on the back of the painting. Three arrows cross each other with three circles connected with chains in the middle.

Unexpectedly, something clatters from across the room, maybe in the kitchen? I look around, and there is a long table with ripped chair cushions and legs scattered nearby. Some of the glassware is broken on the table, fancy silver utensils shine in the moonlight passing through shattered windows with torn up curtains. The grey mist and moonlight illuminates the room. I peak around the corner and see a dark shadow shift out from the kitchen.

Footsteps and creeks suddenly start coming from the grand staircase. It glides past the creaky stairs, through the maze of dark hallways, ripping up carpets and paintings as it goes. Some of the doors open and slam shut. The chandeliers glow dimly in the hallway. A breeze rushes throughout the room, but this time I don’t get goosebumps. I am drawn to move closer to it.

Doors slam in usion; however, one door remains open. There is a lit candle inside the room. The organ begins playing, and I find myself moving closer - I no longer have control. A shadow grows bigger, covering up the reflection of the candlelight. Then a loud screech sounds, and the walls are covered with shapes of weird symbols crawling out from behind the paintings. The next thing I know, the figure and I vanish into thin air.

My shadow reflects on the ground from somewhere unknown. The legend says that the shadow still lurks among the swampy mansion on nights with particularly grey skies waiting to add others to its collection.

On Top of the World Taylor Hartenhoff

Grade 11, Abraham Lincoln High School Write Touch Magazine

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Mountains Ben O'Neill

Grade 11, Saint Albert High School

Traveling on the side of a mountain Filled with excitement to reach the top Although far from the top The thrill built inside The mountain was relentless Seeming as though the travel would never end The wind picked up The mountain was more treacherous than ever

There's This Girl In My Class Kendall Robbins

Grade 7, Lewis Central Middle School There's this girl in my class; She usually happier than a kid full of candy; But at home she's… different; She doesn't laugh, she doesn’t smile; She is as sad as leaves getting crushed in the fall; But she says she is okay.

The peak is nearing The travel is almost over The pain and suffering will pay off Soon the peak will be reached The peak has been reached You stand upon your achievement Just to realize There is a larger mountain ahead of you

There's this girl in my class; She doesn't smile anymore; She doesn't wear her band tees anymore; She wears black sweatshirts and jeans; She doesn't speak in class anymore; But she says she is okay.

There's this girl in my class; She walks alone in the hall; She doesn't talk to anyone; She’s failing her classes; She never smiles at me anymore; But she says she is okay?

There was this girl in my class; She was so happy, But her eyes got dull; She changed…

And now she's gone; She was never okay!

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One Second Gone Josi Clark

Grade 9, Abraham Lincoln High School “Please, please,” I screamed, but the sounds came out as white noise.

I was walking so fast But you were walking faster…

Faster.. Faster.. Faster..

Farther behind I became Too fast for my small feet to catch you.

Was it that easy for you to walk away?

You heard me. I know you did.

My painfilled screams echoed throughout the neighborhood.

I kicked, I pulled on your shirt.

I promised to never disappoint you like I felt I had this time.

You didn't hesitate It's like this is what you were meant to do.

“Please don't leave” I remember it too well.

That heart-throbbing, throat choking moment.

My tears, crystallized on my face, never sacrificing a moment of my bitter screams to dry them It's like a part of me was taken, a part of me that I thought would never leave my side Torn, ripped, pulled from my once content soul.

I wonder what you felt. Hurt? Even the littlest bit?

Did I really ever mean anything to you?

You're going to miss everything.

This thought never left my mind.

Every birthday, every Christmas morning without you stuffing my stocking with that candy I loved that only you knew about.

Every first date - what about my wedding?

You will never get to see your little girl walk down the aisle.

All I ask is to have a father daughter dance Is that too much?

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Index Aragon, Sterlyn....................................................................................................................................14 Barajas, Jesus..........................................................................................................................................2 Bedford, Makinzie..........................................................................................................................Cover Bracker, Paige.........................................................................................................................................3 Cain, Isabella.........................................................................................................................................4 Ceballos Rodriguez, Marisol...................................................................................................................8 Clark, Josi............................................................................................................................................24 Eledge, Haylee.....................................................................................................................................10 Frieze, Alizia........................................................................................................................................20 Galvan, Gabryela.................................................................................................................................14 Hansen, CJ..........................................................................................................................................18 Hanson, Ella..........................................................................................................................................5 Hartenhoff, Taylor...............................................................................................................................22 Hiatt, Lilly.............................................................................................................................................1 Hosick, Camryn..................................................................................................................................16 Jarrell, Ava...........................................................................................................................................20 Krauth, Kaden.....................................................................................................................................15 Lustgraaf, Abbylee.................................................................................................................................1 Martin, Amy........................................................................................................................................17 Mathis, Lee..........................................................................................................................................11 Matthai, Eric..........................................................................................................................................7 Miller, Mallory.....................................................................................................................................15 Montenegro, Zoe.................................................................................................................................21 Moore, Kyleigh....................................................................................................................................12 Nipper, Kalista.......................................................................................................................................9 Nipper, TJ...........................................................................................................................................22 Olson, Abbigale...................................................................................................................................13 O'Neill, Ben........................................................................................................................................23 Oswald, Theodore..................................................................................................................................6 Pekny, Cole..........................................................................................................................................16 Poppino, Aubree..................................................................................................................................13 Robbins, Kendall.................................................................................................................................23 Salmons, Kaylee.....................................................................................................................................6 Sandoval, Keyli.....................................................................................................................................10 Schleifman, Kate....................................................................................................................................7 Schrier, Jade...........................................................................................................................................2 Spurgin, Kristen...................................................................................................................................12 Starr, Gracie.........................................................................................................................................11 Tanner, Deegan......................................................................................................................................8 Tierney, Rylee......................................................................................................................................17 White, Vanessa.....................................................................................................................................21 Wilson, Damian.....................................................................................................................................5 Witte, Megan.........................................................................................................................................4 Womochil, Josh.....................................................................................................................................3 Wyler, Anna........................................................................................................................................19 Zambrano Jaramillo, Enrique...............................................................................................................18

Special Thanks to the following teachers who helped students submit writing and art chosen for The Write Touch 2020:

Carrie Booms-Ryan – Abraham Lincoln High School, English Language Arts Dan Cavanagh – Abraham Lincoln High School, Art Ann Coombs – Saint Albert Catholic Schools, English Language Arts Matthew Eledge – Thomas Jefferson High School, English Language Arts Jane Hanigan – Abraham Lincoln High School, English Language Arts Angie Hetzel – Lewis Central Middle School, English Language Arts Michelle Kavars – Lewis Central Middle School, TAG Strategist Alicia Knau – Wilson Middle School, English Language Arts Kari Lewis – Lewis Central High School, Art Debralee Lithimane – Wilson Middle School, Art Courtney Mimick – Thomas Jefferson High School, Art Molly Pettit – Lewis Central High School, English Language Arts Amanda Portsche – Wilson Middle School, Art Jessica Riggle – Kirn Middle School, Art Marla Schoening – Abraham Lincoln High School, Art Megan Shama – Iowa School for the Deaf, English Language Arts Jen Urlaub – Wilson Middle School, English Language Arts Sarah Wiberg – Iowa School for the Deaf, Art