The CLAW 2022

Volume VI

2022 Cedar Creek School

Ruston, Louisiana

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The CLAW, Volume 6, 2022 Head of School: Cindy Hampton Faculty Advisers: Jill Myers, Alison Amidon, and Leeanne Bordelon Art Instructors: Chase Lenard and Garson Woodard Layout and Design: Liz Craft Printing: Lapressco Cover Art: Sophia Parkman, Class of 2022

The Cougar Literary, Art, and Writing Magazine (The CLAW) is modeled after its predecessor, Cougar Reflections, which showcased the work of Cedar Creek students for three decades under the direction of faculty advisor Pat Haworth. The original cover art for Cougar Reflections (above) was designed by Donnie Barmore.

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Contributors WRITING HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

HIGH SCHOOL NARRATIVE FICTION

Sarah Adams Landon Amidon Sarah Beth Bates Kenley Brasher Tatum Brasher Madison Bratton Brooklin Diffey Allie Furr Kimmy Gill Mia Graham Zoë Graham Nathan Gremillion Will Harris Avery Lewis Stout Baylee Mabou Hayden McClusky Parks McConnell Sophia Parkman Riley Patterson Aaron Peel Grace Perkins Taylor Ramsey Ava Richmond Mary Lu Ricks Adrianna Robbins Leah Sutherland Katelyn Taylor AJ Thomas Jordan Vail

Sarah Adams Savannah Kilbride

HIGH SCHOOL PERSONAL ESSAY

MIDDLE SCHOOL POETRY Arlyn Boyet Eden Dawsey Kennedy Hall Abi Hyde Maddy Parkman Drake Purvis Eli Slocum Catherine Williams MIDDLE SCHOOL PERSONAL ESSAY John Parker Moak Gracie Parker MIDDLE SCHOOL NARRATIVE FICTION Selah Bryan Kate Harris Bailey Hiers Marley Jinks Joshua McCarthy Govind Prakash Kenna Williams

ART & PHOTOGRAPHY Bailey Adams Eden Dawsey Ashleigh Harrison Caroline James Allie Jones Gracie Jones Anna Grace Lee Madison Morris James Myers Kate Myers Sophia Parkman Emma Pearce Grace Perkins Amelia Reynolds Charlie Rufleth Eli Slocum Sydney Vance Gilly Grace Washam Presley Wall Bryleigh Williams Gray Worthey SECTION HEADINGS Annie Jones Anna Grace Lee

Hayes Bridges Madeline Kneeland Emma Love Pearce, Class of 2024

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“Unwanted House Guest”

by Taylor Ramsey, Class of 2024 I would like to introduce you to a guest that knocked on my door years ago Why he is still here?

I don’t really know His presence brings darkness wherever he moves But the worst part is that he hates to lose He wins every argument that takes place in my house Shutting me down until I’m quiet as a mouse He has taken over my home And won’t ever leave me alone He controls me He holds me Why? He never told me I thought he would leave a long time ago But no He’s stubborn He’s selfish And in your pain, he will relish After he moved in It didn’t take long for the temper tantrums to begin He punches holes in the walls And makes cracks throughout the halls “Listen to me!” He screams “I’m on your team This isn’t a dream You are struggling, it seems Don’t you think your fighting is a little extreme?”

He lists everything that I’m afraid of And swears they are demons that I will never get above

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I know that one day I will get the strength to kick him out He will keep coming back, I have no doubt But maybe I’ll learn to say no to him Maybe I’ll learn to keep him from letting my light go dim Maybe I’ll learn to not listen to his every threat But the trouble he brought me is something I will never forget What is his name, you ask?

He goes by Fear But don’t be fooled For he isn’t as innocent as he appears.

“Firebird”

by Katelyn Taylor, Class of 2024 Zooming through the bleak skyline, Blinding scarlet and vermillion plumage, The red-tailed hawk soars above

“Life in a Backpack”

by Sarah Beth Bates, Class of 2022 She was organized, says the neatness of her backpack All throughout the school year She was OCD, say the binders and pocket folders Each piece of paper exactly in its own spot She was responsible and busy, says the student planner With every detail of each day written down, and Tests day after day and months after months Always studying and preparing for the next day Say the notecards and pieces of paper with reminders

HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

Charlie Rufleth, Class of 2026 HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

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“An Ode to the Game of Baseball”

by Jordan Vail, Class of 2023

“Untitled”

by Will Harris, Class of 2022

When two teams come to battle Home vs Away, the loved vs the hated At the top of the first…

The away team gets the first chance To take the lead, yet he has to earn it.

Facing the pitcher on the bump, Bat in hand…. Thinking of what’s Going to be thrown.

After many innings of throwing, The pitcher has finally done enough.

Doing his best so his team can win, His arm screaming in pain, All hope relies on….

The closer that all fans adore Pitching fast and hitting his spots, He shows he’s the one for the job.

Now after seven innings of play, The crowd will sing along to…

“Take me out to the ballgame,” A song that every fan loves, maybe More than a home team win.

Then after nine innings of play, when Both are said done, the one With the most runs will be the winner.

Don’t let that fool you ....

The losers will be back to play another game

He left in a hurry, says the messy bed With the covers messily thrown to the side of him When he woke; sleeping pants lay on the floor As they were taken off and not moved again; Homework papers sit beside his bed, Along with three cups left sitting out; A six-foot phone charger is plugged into the wall, Likely where the student does his work; The room is fairly neat except for the few clothes on the floor, The closet is organized but far from perfect, The jeans and shirts say he is about average size; The bathroom counter is still wet from the sink, Likely from him getting ready for school; He must travel a lot by the look of His toiletries that are kept in a bathroom bag, He is always ready for an adventure or trip.

Bailey Adams, Class of 2024 The CLAW 6

HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

“Female Heart”

by Sarah Adams, Class of 2022

“Ode to the Life of a Dancer”

by Kimmy Gill, Class of 2023

It’s not frail nor soft.

It doesn’t crumble or fall over, crack or dry up.

So, it is concealed, protected, kept hidden from direct line of sight.

Yet it stands on the front lines.

Across enemy territory.

Who’s always on her feet.

Practicing day and nightsometimes forgetting to sleep.

Sharp turns and twirls fill the roomrepeating the counts out loud.

Five, six, seven, eight.

Making sure the moves are on beat, “tip, tap, tip, tap” – the sound of her feet hitting the floor, hoping to feel the satisfaction of the day’s work, but then not being satisfiedand starting over the next day.

Tears and sweat create waterfalls, the dissatisfaction with every wrong move.

“Boom!” Her body slams to the floor.

Everything crashing down.

The words “give up” chant louder and louder in her head.

She ignores it.

Gets up.

And tries again.

All this work just for a dream.

To be a dancer

How dare it!

How dare the heart feel.

It is forbidden.

Women feel, ha, they are weak, If they don’t react, they are stone faced, cold hearted.

An object, Existing.

For the pleasure.

Of others.

The never Ending Circle.

Don’t show your emotion, You are cold.

Give too much, You are a fool.

Love, Don’t love, Always used.

HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

“Untitled”

by Hayden McClusky, Class of 2022 So much depends On the throbbing, Beating pumps.

The blood coursing Through the veins.

The warm feeling when Loved ones are near.

The joy all around.

The heart.

The most magnificent thing.

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“An Ode to an ALL-TIME LEGEND”

by AJ Thomas, Class of 2023

“An Ode to My Adoption”

by Tatum Brasher, Class of 2023

Ode – Man – Myth – Legend – Michael Day in day out Singing singing As a kid no breaks Dancing dancing Not a normal childhood Singing dancing Strict parents Ranting ranting.

Jealous brothers Dreaming scheming Mental Strain Deteriorating Fading.

Clapping clicking Styling Flashing.

Paparazzi Around Nothing but sound Happiness was found A new king is crowned.

My mom, who had 3 kids, wanted another.

She traveled across the world, flying like a bird To pick up her ray of sunshine When we made eye contact—it was love—real love My dad already knew I was his favorite The plane ride back, felt like 10 years I made a buzzing sound like the plane My sister’s friends dressed me up While my mom, took pictures Dad and I would go get a rock, every day!

It was shiny!

Dad and I would watch tv together Until he turned it to football Mom would feed me goldfish People would come see me And never leave Pinch my cheeks, till I started to cry We look back at pictures We all smile, laugh, and say: I was Wanted.

Chosen.

Loved.

Don’t worry though!

I still am!

“Heart to Heart”

by Nathan Gremillion, Class of 2022 It is blue Cold and wet The heart is healing For its previous Flame was Snuffed by the Darkness of life It wants to be released From its own cage It holds the key But does not want To be snuffed out Again

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“Alone”

by Parks McConnell, Class of 2024 Being alone changes a person No matter if it’s bad or good Being alone will calm you down Give you ease of mind Help you settle down Loneliness can drive you crazy You get tired of having no friends Sitting alone every day at lunch Lying in your bed every weekend Loneliness can cause hatred towards others Being alone changes a person

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Gracie Jones, Class of 2027 HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

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“Fear?”

by Kenley Brasher, Class of 2023

“An Ode to My Mom”

by Madison Bratton, Class of 2023

Each day I think about the future The days of unknown.

And when I think I get scared I’m scared of the future The presence of the unknown.

I’m scared of people The things they can do.

I’m scared for the planet that we live on The pollution we cause.

I’m scared for future generations The world they have to live in.

But in darkness There is light With light There is hope Hope for the future Hope for the people Hope for the planet Hope for future generations Hope for the unknown

It’s the new year, and it doesn’t seem right.

I’m sick, and you’re sick But I’m not allowed to see you.

You became worse and worse— But who cares about my sickness now?

I have to see you before you leave!

I hold your hand every day, I tell you I love you, I cry while you sleep, Because this doesn’t feel right.

You shined as bright as the sun one day And now it’s like a thunderstorm has hit You were a candle That would light up every room you walked in

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You had the biggest smile when I walked into your room.

You talked to me the first day I saw you, Each day I couldn’t hear your voice, more and more, Until the day you slept, and couldn’t respond

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But I knew you could still hear me I questioned everything Why does mom have to be sick?

Why would you make me sick?

The virus I had didn’t matter now You were more important than any of my sickness I was with you from morning to night— It’s 9:30, and it’s time to leave you— I go in your room; to tell you I love you, Telling you I’ll be okay Are the words you needed to hear.

You worried about me and Zach And you wanted to make sure we were okay, Before you left us.

God called you home that night.

Boom! My stomach drops; I weep down on Earth But you are now cancer free And my guardian angel.

It still doesn’t seem real I feel like I’m living in a dream But I wake up every day To make you proud That I am your daughter.

“Untitled”

by Aaron Peel, Class of 2022 So much depends on my heart, Filled with kindness and love To pour out to everyone.

Kill them with kindness And good things will happen.

“Thank You”

by Allie Furr, Class of 2023 To the sport I have played For what it feels To be a million years, But in reality Time has flown by And has gone by faster Then I could ever had imagined, Thank you Thank you for teaching me Not only how to be a better athlete, But also a better person: How to work with my teammates, How to listen, how to be respectful, How to work for everything in life.

Now that it is time to choose The college that best fits me Where I will enjoy My last few years of softball.

How will I know If I am going to make the right decision, If I am going to be happy, If I am going to like my teammates.

It is not going to be easy And it might be stressful at times But when I choose the college Where I feel most at home It will be bittersweet But in the end I will be happy My parents will be proud And my friends and family will celebrate with me And I will know That I made my 5-year-old self proud.

t Eden Dawsey, Class of 2028 HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

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“Reality Realization”

by Brooklin Diffey, Class of 2023

“Television”

by Grace Perkins, Class of 2023

Deep thoughts and sleepless nights Lie awake thinking how reality is coming Losing connections with everyone, speechless.

Wondering why things happen, for what reason?

Not understanding what to do Then realization hits Flooding in like rivers of joy Because you know reality is a new beginning.

A fresh start, change, to renew oneself Only having left memories eats you up inside Hard times are ahead You’re scared to grow up.

But aren’t we all?

Why can’t we be kids forever where we were careless and free No worries but which doll to play with next Brushing the doll’s hair as your own, free Now you have to grow up Take on the world yourself.

No more humming to your dolls.

No more childhood.

I wish I was in the tv.

My moves are all played out perfectly.

A silver screen without a crack.

The laugh track keeping me satisfied.

Everyone wanting me to get what I want.

I wish I was in the tv.

All my perfect friends and family, So organized and controlled.

Why can’t I be in the tv.

The errors and mistakes, The sadness and tragedy, Correctiveness of others, Constant change in direction.

I might be in the tv; But my show has no happy ending, Not yet.

Tv always has a happy ending, And it’s useless if not.

No one wants to see that.

The sitcom that plays in my head, For everyone to see.

Romance and depression, Goals and grief.

My life’s reruns, In scenes playing over and over.

If I could change channels, Or playback my mistakes.

Erasing them from my time Or just pausing a moment.

A remote with each emotion, And my choices on a button.

My thoughts played out, But every time I close my eyes, I see what’s on the tv.

I want to be in the tv.

“Winter’s Breeze”

by Leah Sutherland, Class of 2024 Shall I compare thee to a winter’s breeze?

Thou art more piercing, biting, and numbing.

Winter’s feeling is like a bunch of fleas, So annoyingly cold and uninviting.

Sometimes your breeze heats up throughout the day.

It makes me want to enjoy the fresh air And stay outside with you, so we can play.

I do this because our friendship is rare, But thy winter’s breeze never goes away.

Some days are pleasant; some days are dreadful Which is why I sense that it’s here to stay.

This case is strange so I must be careful.

So long as we remain content as friends; So long as we’ve each other till the end.

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Kate Myers, Class of 2023 u HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

“Beware Heart”

by Riley Patterson, Class of 2022

“A Working Child”

by Mia Graham, Class of 2024

You are open now, full with love.

Someone has a hold on you and has for a while.

You yearn for their heart To beat against yours, They are joined to you, Through memories, Moments, Laughter, And love.

But beware— If they leave your side, You will break into a million pieces.

Therefore, The cage around you will be the only thing holding you in place.

You will be empty.

Filled with nothing but pain.

So, beware of this other heart.

For it is attached to you, And there is nothing— And I mean nothing— That you can do, To stop loving this fellow heart.

Inspired by the Industrial Revolution Iron monster of deathly rage Guard dog of my lethal cage A prison cell of ferrous torture Shields the upper class from my daily horror From thoughts that arouse them in their beds Why must I, a child, live their nightmares instead?

The smog creeps deep into my watering eyes Endless days bleed into nights For ten-to-fourteen-hour shifts I ponder life’s significance Even sickness can’t keep me from my work To feed the babe as starvation lurks Responsibilities they expect me to bear To delay death from drawing near Will we always be condemned to this cage?

The people wield no power for change One caught finger could take my life Is living worth this ceaseless strife?

Or I could crawl ‘neath my iron monster And madly realize I can bear it no further And be shredded into blissful sleep Leaving the world to live this tyranny so deep

“A Collection of Lies from Those I Am Closest To”

by Sophia Parkman, Class of 2022 “I have four dogs” “I’m the quarterback” “I have two nephews” “I like ice cream” “You’re the best at Mario Cart” “My name is Kimberly” “I have a boyfriend” “I wasn’t trying to throw you under the bus.”

“Call me whenever you need.” p.s. everything is a lie HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

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“I Began”

by Zoë Graham, Class of 2022 I began with “Bless her heart” And Mr. George’s pasture, A big walnut tree And fruit juice suckers Gluten free crackers, gluten free cake The hunting camp, Where I shot my first deer And “are y’all twins?”

There’s DeMarini bats

And the softball field – The turf you don’t want to slide on in shorts – A kickball-sized backyard, Hands raised on a Sunday morning, And the Sonic sign I broke my car on (the glue didn’t put it back together, and my best friend cried).

I swear I’m 50% pancakes Even though I don’t like breakfast food Dancing on toes so I can reach, Familiar phrases “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Maybe they did.

Madison Morris, Class of 2027

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HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

“Symphony”

by Avery Lewis Stout, Class of 2022

“Camp Waldemar”

by Mary Lu Ricks, Class of 2024

the thump of her feet hit

Camp is my own distinct version of home It’s the most important thirty days of my year It’s like a quiet, calming, worry-free dome My favorite place in the world is here

as the rolling track whirls; the chorus of them together waking up the entire house. she is in her own world a symphony of guitars, pianos, trumpets blaring through her ears, muting her thoughts for only a short amount of time as long as her feet hit the rolling track whirls the people in the housethe father, the motherboth awake now the pounding too heavy to ignore wondering what she is doing at 6am, the father, he trudges down the stairs lets the dog out makes some coffee wonders what it would be like to still be in bed he wanders into the front room turns the corner and starts to speak but his voice shatters the symphony of the pounding the rhythm is broken she falls off the treadmill her headphones falling out of her ears, robbing her of her symphony

HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

Waldemar is a sea of woods Outside is like listening to loud silence The feeling of relief is understood Crickets are the atmosphere guidance Light reflects off the water for hours on end Horses play in the river in the evening Cypress trees moving around with the wind The fish doing everything but grieving God looks at this heaven on earth he created Dances in the clouds happy he made it

“Child Labor in the 1800s”

by Baylee Mabou, Class of 2024 Sun up, Sun down, It’s always like this around town.

Get up, get moving, got to get to work.

Work, work, work.

It’s all I do all day, every day.

No time for fun, no time for anything.

Work is the devil, pulling me in, Slowly diminishing my childhood.

The machines are demons, The leftover cotton, the ferocious gin, Ready to strike and take my life.

Heartbeat fading every day.

This is no life for a child.

This is no life for anyone.

Why won’t they do anything about it, It’s not fair, it’s not right.

But all I got to do is keep up the fight.

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“Basketball”

by Baylee Mabou, Class of 2024

“Forgotten Lonely Nights”

by Adrianna Robbins, Class of 2024

The smell of popcorn and butter fills my nose.

Cheering from both sides erupts the whole gym.

Focus, determination, and effort all contribute to the game.

The basketball flies in and out of my hand, Screams and shouts echo against the tall ceilings.

My shoes growl at the opponent, ready to strike.

Sweat falls from my hair to the floor.

As my shot goes up a nervous energy takes over, The buzzer cries in excitement as I give us two more points.

Everybody runs onto the court in a huddle, Our skills and confidence have won the game.

Together we are a team, and it will always be this way.

lonely streetlight, foggy window towering trees, lonely breath breathe in out in out dark road, dulled stars serene moon, secretive crickets out in out in passing car deafening silence in out in out dreams of apricity long forgotten in out in out calming grip of night out in out watching the lonely streetlight in out breathing lest morning come again in cold night out out

“Famous Jameis (Jameis Winston Sonnet)”

by Landon Amidon, Class of 2024 Have you ever met a guy named Jameis?

He plays quarterback and he is elite, There are many reasons why he’s famous, Including stealing crab legs for his needs.

Jameis said he didn’t steal those crab legs, And we all know that that is the real truth, Dinner was nothing but a gift of legs, He said it was a mistake of his youth.

He is known for eating a W, Now he is known as a New Orleans Saint, Touchdowns tied with all the picks that he threw, On the Buccaneers he could be an Ain’t.

Famous Jameis really isn’t a joke, He is no man for your funnies to poke.

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“The ACT”

by Riley Patterson, Class of 2022 So much depends Upon A little score Determining your worth Laughing at Your stress Bubbles upon Bubbles

HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

“Together, Together”

by Adrianna Robbins, Class of 2024 all the beautiful colors of the world painted over by black and white. they scream and cry and tear away but the paint that

covers them simply stays. living in the shadows can only last so long before one might break out and find their lost home, but alas they are banished once more away to the corners of suffering and the pitfalls of pain since the rest of the world is all colored the same. the few lonely colors have been put to shame yet with one giant breath they all stand together and face the world head on. hate love confusion ignorance until at last there is acceptance and at last there is peace all together …

Allie Jones, Class of 2025 HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

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“If Cowboys Were Poets”

by Ava Richmond, Class of 2025 If Cowboys were Poets, there’s few That would really Know it.

Few would hear of The long days and Sleepless nights.

Few would hear of Their struggles And see them cry.

They’re a helluva Hand when crossing The land, and the Loops they throw Are quite grand, But sometimes they Have to take a Moment to sit and Write in the sand.

If cowboys were Poets they would Write of monstrous Defeat that would Truly make you Take a seat.

They would write Of long days with Happy ending like A calf finally Nursing and a Smooth branding.

But they would

Have stories of Dark nights, where Everything went Wrong and nothing Went right.

If cowboys were Poets few would Know it, But if you were so Lucky to read From these cowboy Poets, you would Laugh, you would Cry, you would be Thankful for a Clear sky. You Would get angry And you would feel Joy, And you would Realize that the Cowboy is so much More than just a Boy.

Gray Worthey, Class of 2024

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HIGH SCHOOL POETRY

“Responsibilities and Morals”

by Hayes Bridges, Class of 2024 They’re easy to drop momentarily, but they are like an anchor with a rope. You’re fine to do whatever you like while it’s dropping, but once that rope tightens and that weight starts to pull, it will drag you down with it. And when you’re falling, you will finally see why those responsibilities and morals are in place, but it will be too late. The damage is already done.

“Untitled”

by Madeline Kneeland, Class of 2025 There are many questions that humans have wondered about over the years. Such as, “What came first the chicken or the egg?” and “Why are teenage boys the way that they are?” One of the questions that humanity has pondered for many centuries might finally have an answer. “Why is cross country running like a cult?” Professionals have been working together for years and years to try to come up with an explanation for this bewildering question.

Cross Country is known for its exclusive tendencies and cultish reputation. Running long distances is nothing but pure pain, and that’s what cross country is centered around. Doing this with your team leads to great bonding moments, so you get HIGH SCHOOL PERSONAL ESSAYS

close with your teammates. Since you are with these teammates a lot, you start to grow so close to them that you start to group up. Have you ever heard of a cross country runner being best friends with a football player? Me, either. Maybe the 2-inch shorts that the guys love to wear bring them closer together? Maybe they all are insane and love the pain of running so much that it’s all they can talk about? There have been multiple theories that mankind has come up with.

There are multiple possible theories to why cross country is like a cult. After all these years, there could finally be a reasonable and correct answer. Cross Country runners have seen each other at their highs and lows. They have seen each other with mud all over them, tears running down their faces, and maybe even a little bit of blood. They have also seen each other when they get their first medal and get their new personal record.

The Cross Country team’s bond is like no other sport. People may call it cultish, but they all love each other so much and will always be those people whom you can lean on when you need it.

Amelia Reynolds, Class of 2025 The CLAW 19

“Left Behind”

by Sarah Adams, Class of 2022 He was a strong guy, say the iron plates against the wall forgotten in a box; a tall guy, too, says the shower rod rusted by time holding a half-fallen curtain in the upstairs bathroom; and a smart, sweet soul, say the diaries hidden in various shelves and stowed away, dusty, under the bedframe; but not much of a dancer, says the once used navy blue dress suit hidden behind an array of hoodies.

He kept changing, says the broken TV mounted above the dresser with all its drawers empty and left ajar; and he had dreams, says the autographed baseball left behind a stack of old books with broken spines and water damage from being opened over and over and over.

It was lonely here, says the door who never had any visitors but the boy. Something happened, he changed, he left us, says the painting of a football player’s silhouette on the wall. The weights say he was strong, the shower rod says he was tall, the diaries say he was sweet, the suit says he wasn’t a dancer, the TV says he was always changing, the baseball says he had dreams, why did he leave? Why didn’t he take all of us? Was it something we did?

“Lost and Lonely”

by Savanna Kilbride, Class of 2025 It had been three years. Three lonely years since I’d been on earth. I couldn’t wait to see my family next week. I was sitting on the deck when it happened. I’d been staring at earth longing to go home when I heard it. First, it was the cracking sound echoing throughout space. Then I saw the bright red liquid flowing out from the earth. I stood and watched as my planet exploded. I could feel the blast from Mars. I must have hit my head when the blast knocked me over. I woke to the sound of stone being crushed. I must have been unconscious long enough for the chunks of earth to be affecting Mars. I hastily gathered my things into the rocket and used the emergency override, and the rocket left just as a large chunk hit the ground where it previously was. There were little supplies left, and I needed to land somewhere. There was one large section of earth that still had buildings it seemed, so I went there. Maybe there would be someone. My hopes died at arrival. The rocket detected radiation and many other hazardous substances. I decided to try and find another spacecraft. I sat back and watched the planet I belonged to fade away and the stars take over. After 39 days, there was no food or water, my efforts were futile, and I decided to succumb. The loneliness was too much. The end is now.

Gilly Grace Washam, Class of 2026 u The CLAW 20

HIGH SCHOOL NARRATIVE FICTION

The CLAW 21

“Rainbow”

by Catherine Williams, Class of 2027

“Interior Design”

by Drake Purvis, Class of 2027

Once there was a Rainbow, Now there’s not.

Once I had a dog, But now, she’s lost.

Paintings, pictures on the wall If they aren’t nailed in, they will fall Every season they will change But for a little while they will hang In fall it is red, yellow, and orange leaves who knows But in winter it will be changed to trees with snow Sometimes we put stuff on our walls That in the end wasn’t worth it at all We have so much junk and art That we have no idea where to start So much stuff we can’t stop By the end of the day, we will flop Tacks, glue, and tape make a stain But all of that was nothing but pain

Just like a rainbow, There’s a pot of gold.

Just like my dog, Dixie, Who I wish I could hold.

Even though I found the golden pot, Nothing else can ever replace her spot.

“White Winter”

by Arlyn Boyet, Class of 2027 Running.

Faster!

Faster!

I slip I reach over to fill the ice-cold snow It is like dipping in the pool Both are wet Both are soothing Except this is ten times colder I roll over to my back and stare at the sky The white sprinkles kissing my face As I rise, I throw a fistful of the white powder in the air It looks like a white firework exploding in the sky It reminds me of a video I saw one time I smile at the memory and shade my eyes from the sun, It’s going to be a white winter

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“The Masks They Wear”

by Kennedy Hall, Class of 2027 We have a habitat to judge, We can’t handle a little nudge.

We see something we don’t like We just want to put up a fight.

But judging people on what they wear, Even if it’s a little dare…

It’s never kind.

Sometimes we can be a little blind.

Always remember this, What goes around comes around, And always be a bliss.

MIDDLE SCHOOL POETRY

“Ode to Paper of the Toilet”

by Maddy Parkman, Class of 2026 Thus, goes to the bathroom as one would and should, But as thy reaches for the toilet paper, Screams echo from the walls and thy body begins to shake Fear! Terror!

The toilet paper!

Has thus toilet paper run out? No. Has thus been left with the thin transparent substance? Why?!

The glorious and victorious, Charmin has vanished What shall one noble fellow do, But just sit on the white bowl forever?

Ashleigh Harrison, Class of 2028

Thy can’t make any deals, He knows, To earn back his dear friends.

But how is it that this fellow is to make a deal, If he shan’t get of the toilet?

One can’t.

So, the young fellow is stuck, Forever and ever longing for the smooth soft feel of Charmin or Angel Soft.

“Mrs. Myers’s Room”

by Eli Slocum, Class of 2028

Wonderful, Astounding!

Full of wonderful books This classroom helps students prepare for college It has three whiteboards The fellow shudders as he remembers his 19 desks dear friends, Many pictures drawn by students from past school Charmin and Angel Soft. years They were taken by those arrogant cowards Several poems And fools who dared to take his paper.

15 iPads owned by the honors class of 2028!

He remains on the toilet, Greek god body biographies Forever and ever.

Rows of books on shelves and one whiteboard Mourning his stolen friends.

One clock 3 bookshelves The tears streak down his hallow cheekbones, 2 windows Face as pale as the moon.

One door The tears reflect tears that have fallen Many markers On this poor fellow’s face.

3 cabinets Only a fellow in this dilemma can feel the sadness One table That sadness itself feels.

Legos Only a man like this can be as lonely as lonely itself is. A producer chair THREE BABY YODAS!!!

MIDDLE SCHOOL POETRY

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“The Guy with The Mustache”

by Eden Dawsey, Class of 2028

“Home”

by Abi Hyde, Class of 2028

I sit alone in my tower Surrounded by bright orange light, And wait for him to arrive The princess is here But I still feel alone.

The cold, bare, stone walls Leading down dark hallways to nothingness.

The rain pounds on the roof, Like I had pounded on the door of her castle, The day it all started.

I had my best men On the front lines, But he was unstoppable.

I was barely able to grab her and get out of there, He was hot on my tail.

I lost him in the forest When the brothers slowed him down With their mighty hammers.

I made it back to my castle But he always comes back Every time, never-ending.

I can hear the pitter pater of his footsteps down the hall now, He is here The guy with the mustache, Mario I am The guy everyone thinks is a villain, The guy that everyone hates, The guy no one asked for his side of the story, The villain that no one fights for, Bowser.

I look around my room, Gryffindor banner hung on the white wall, Funko Pop collection staring at me, Bags in the corner, Waiting to be unpacked, Everyone busy, I am always alone, I think of where I was thirty minutes ago, Blue walls instead of white, Bathroom shared with only myself, A hyper two-year-old, Three dogs instead of one, I look back to what happened, Several years in the past, I cannot quite remember much, Loft bed, Little tent for naps, Plushies everywhere, A blast from the past is enough to make me wonder, Will I forever have a broken home?

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MIDDLE SCHOOL POETRY

“Untitled”

by John Parker Moak, Class of 2027

“Daycare - More like Prison”

by Gracie Parker, Class of 2027

I would love to go to Yellowstone. A few years ago, my brother went, and the pictures were stunning. The wilderness, mountains, hills, canyons, and streams went on as far as the eye can see. It is the perfect place to immerse yourself in the beauty of nature. There were all types of animals. From bears to birds, it has it all! Some of the trees were so tall that they seemed to reach the for the stars, holding up the sky. Although, with all these magical experiences scattered around the park, Ole Faithful may be the most magnificent spot in the entire park! First you hear a thunderous rumble, and an explosion of water bursts from the ground and flies high into the sky. And yet, you better not blink, or it will be over before you even realize it! Yellowstone is a place of dreams come true!

When I was little, I absolutely hated going to any school of any kind. I would cry and have a tantrum, or a lot of times, I would feel like I was going to throw up.

When my mom dropped me off, I would cry, and I remember one of the teachers would always have juice and crackers ready to give me when I started to cry.

I would be in a bad mood all day! When my mom or grandmother would pick me up, I would run and start crying happy tears because I was ready to go home!

I remember one day was particularly bad. I was going to school, and a boy did not feel good… I went to go and grab a toy and BLAH! HE THREW UP ON ME!!

My mom came and picked me up, and we went home.

I was dreading going to school the next day, and it was the same routine, just the boy did not throw up on me.

Thankfully he was not even there!

Grace Perkins, Class of 2023 MIDDLE SCHOOL PERSONAL ESSAY

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“The Witch, The Wizard, and the Soldier” book and found several spells. One spell was the stun spell “statafus.”

by Joshua McCarthy, Class of 2027 “Dad tell us a story,” John Nathanulson asked his dad, Jack. “Yeah, tell us,” agreed his younger brother Eli. “Ok, but promise to be quiet,” Jack replies. “Ok,” they say in unison. “I was 12, and I was at a Halloween party with Tyler,” Jack started.

We were in the haunted house when Tyler said, “Hey, Jack, want to go on the hayride next?” “Sure,” I replied. I was a wizard, and he was a soldier. I had gotten my wand from some old store. We were on the hayride, and we went down a dark and creepy ride.

The only light was the full moon. Then there was a flash of lightning, and everyone else was gone! We could hear their screams. Up on a hill, there was a house. Light was flashing through the windows. We could hear cackling all the way over here.

The driver had turned into a zombie. We got off before it could notice us and made our way to the house.

When we got there, there was an old lady dressed like a witch doing some spell with a wand. All the other kids from the hayride were floating in a circle around the sorcerer and a cauldron. She was chanting, “ola-maya come to me spirits of the fire lake,” continuously. We crept into the house and up to the attic.

There was a hole in the floor, so we could see what she was doing. Then I found an old looking book. It was a spell book! I wondered if my wand was a real wand, so I tried the light spell. “Lakia,” I muttered, and my wand started glowing! I looked through the

Then I saw a spell that made fake things real - “animagaus.” I used this on Tyler’s uniform and gun. We devised a plan to save everyone. I would use the invisibility spell “invisibilis” to sneak around the witch and start removing children from the circle, then use the disappearing spell “disargius” on the cauldron all while Tyler was distracting her. Then we would attack her. Right before leaving, I saw that the spell brings two spirits back from hell for each child’s heart, and it only works during a full moon on Hallows Eve (Halloween). When we got down there, Tyler was about to shoot her when she saw him and threw lighting at him. Under the invisibles charm, I snuck around and used disargius on the cauldron. She had already used a knife to cut out five children’s hearts. I pulled the remaining children out of the circle. I shot stun spells at her while she sent lightning at us both. Her shield spell was too strong.

I got the children in a circle with me in the center and, using the magic that had been flowing through them, told Tyler to shoot at the same time as me. I got ready and yelled statafus. My stun spell was so powerful that it shattered her shield and knocked her out for a week.

“Dad, that’s not true,” says John. “Yeah, no way,” Eli agrees. “It is,” Jack replies, “I’ll prove it.” He pulls out his wand and says, “Lakia,” and the wand starts glowing.

Caroline James, Class of 2026 u The CLAW 26

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“The Halloween I Will Never Forget”

by Kenna Williams, Class of 2027 “Guys, are y’all almost ready?” I asked my best friends, Kate and Alex, “We’re going to be late!” With that, we hopped in the car, and we sped to church as fast as we could. Every year our church holds a fall Halloween festival. We have been going together for as long as I can remember. This year we dressed up as hippies from the ‘60’s. We wore huge hoop earrings, dresses that had peace signs on them, and tall white boots. Every year at the festival, we got little pumpkins on our faces by Mrs. Harrison. Mr. Harrison, Mrs. Harrison’s husband, drove the night hayride that we always went on.

On the hayride there were a couple of little kids and their parents, and there were a couple of college kids.

The hayride smelled like sweat, hay, and paint. Suddenly there was a fog that seemed to have come from the motor. It covered the entire trailer in less than five minutes. When the fog cleared, it was like nothing had ever happened. We decided not to ride the hayride again because the fog was super weird. We couldn’t jump off the trailer, so we had to go down the stairs. It was like a maze trying to get around all the hay bells and kids. When we FINALLY got off the trailer, Alex tripped on a stick, and she fell onto Gerald. Gerald was the hottest guy in our grade.

“OUCH!!!!” Alex squealed as she hit the ground with a thud, “I thought I fell on Gerald, not the ground!”

“You did,” I replied, “I don’t know why you went through him.”

“He didn’t even flinch!” Kate chimed in. “That was super weird,” I thought to myself, “Something’s not right.” I decided to go test something out. I walked up to Nancy, another girl in our grade, and I walked right through her!

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“Ummmmm, how did I just walk through her???” I asked confused, “Are we INVISIBLE????”

I walked through a few more people just to be sure.

No one even flinched.

“I know this may sound crazy, but I think we turned into ghosts,” I said slowly.

“I read about this happening once!” exclaimed Kate.

“I thought it was fake, but I guess that it is real!”

“How do we change back into humans, well, I mean alive humans, not dead ones?” asked Alex.

“I don’t know, but we will figure it out. Kate, in the book you read did it say anything about how to change back?” I asked Kate curiously.

“Ummm, I think it said to find a glowing blue stone, and the instructions will be with it,” Kate replied.

After that, we went searching the entire town. Finally, when we were about to give up hope, we saw a glowing blue stone! We all ran up to it to see if the book was right. And it was! There was a tiny piece of paper beside it. We read it out loud together.

The paper said, “Hold the stone tight, and count out loud for three seconds, starting with one and going up.

After you count, throw the stone in the air. You will reappear where you stand right now. Good luck.”

We did as it said, and it felt so weird. We didn’t know if it worked or not. There was a man who was chopping down wood. We called to him, and he looked up.

“It worked, it worked!” we all exclaimed excitingly.

“We’re back to normal!”

p p p

Presley Wall, Class of 2028 Eli Slocum, Class of 2028 Sydney Vance, Class of 2028 MIDDLE SCHOOL NARRATIVE FICTION

“The Bell”

by Marley Jinks, Class of 2027 The bell rang, and I sprinted towards my locker. I had to get out of there before the second bell rang. I had to take a big history test today. I grabbed the cheat sheet out of my locker and stuffed it into my hoodie pocket.

The teacher would never notice. As soon as I walked through the doorway, my best friend from the other class pulled me to the side.

“What’s in your pocket, Mike?”

“None of your business, now go away.” I tried to keep walking, but Zach pulled me back again.

“I know you better than that. Just let me see what’s in that pocket.”

Now Zach was an extremely tall and buff guy, so there’s no way he was going to lose that battle. For a second I was too intimidated to move, but slowly I reached into my pocket and pulled out the paper.

“Mike, don’t do it. You’ve never cheated on a test before, and it’s not going to start now. Why didn’t you study? You had the entire night.”

“Look dude, my parents got into a big fight, and that’s that. I couldn’t focus, okay? Give me a break.” Even if I did study, I’d be too worried about what was going to happen to me if my parents separated to make a passing grade.

“I’m sorry, alright? Listen to me. Just don’t cheat. Try your best, and that’s all that matters. You could probably talk to Mr. Trace, and he might would let you take it tomorrow.”

“I gotta go … see you at lunch.” He handed me back the paper, and I turned around and took one step.

“Hey, why’d you give me back the paper?” He kept walking. “You’ll see.”

I walked confidently into Mr. Trace’s class, but then I got to thinking when I sat down. The trash can was

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staring me in the face, and might I say, it wasn’t a pretty sight. Then, my perfectionist self was telling me, who cares, it’s just paper. It’s clear to me what’s right and what’s wrong, but I just can’t decide.

At the end of the day, the right thing’s the best thing to do. Yesterday, I got sent to the principal’s office for cheating. My mom was already sad and stressed enough before I did this. I should’ve thought about her instead of myself. Zach was disappointed in me, too. Who knew your actions could affect the people around you so much? I’m also extremely disappointed in myself. The mind can be a torturous thing, but I’ve learned a lot in the past twelve hours. Life lesson: Others come before you. (And cheating results in terrible consequences.)

“Dirty Windows”

by Selah Bryan, Class of 2026 As soon as I heard the doorknob click, my stomach sunk the lowest it could go. I eyed the smudges on the window, just sitting there, waiting to be wiped off with paper towels and a bottle of Windex. But it was too late. My father stepped in, his brown, dirty boots making a thump on the freshly polished floor; the one chore I remembered to do. His black, evil eyes immediately went to the windows. My hands began to tremble, and my vision began to blur from the tears that I knew would soon drench my face. My whole body began to shake uncontrollably, so much that it shook the table, as he unhooked his belt and pulled it from the loops on his stained jeans. My breathing haltered as he walked slowly towards me, and then I let it stop all together. Not from fear, but because I was going to save every last bit of breath I could. I was almost eighteen, an adult. He ruined my teenage years, but I wasn’t going to let him ruin my life. I continued to let my breathing cease as I prepared to run. I stepped back as he stepped forward and grabbed the one thing that my mother left: a dingy purple vase holding dead flowers. I chunked it at his face and smiled at his highpitched screech as I sprinted faster than I ever imagined I could go.

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“Organ Engines”

by Kate Harris, Class of 2026 “Come on, Lanie!” I begged.

“Ugh, fine,” she gave in, “but if I get scared you have to hold my hand.” I sighed dramatically and obliged.

We climbed up into the hayride, bouncing our legs in excitement and nervousness. It was October 31st at a Halloween festival in Colorado. My parents took us and let us come to this festival by ourselves. This hayride was supposed to be the scariest thing there, and the haunted house was already terrifying. The trailer started moving, crunching the snow on the ground.

“Kate, I’m not gonna make it through this if it’s the scariest thing here… I nearly peed myself in the haunted house…” Lanie trailed off. She was staring at the dark trail ahead.

“Don’t be such a wimp. You’ll be fine. And if anything happens, I’ll just beat whatever it is up.” Lanie gave a half-hearted laugh at that and kept her eyes ahead. The trailer stopped and I saw her stiffen in her seat. A thick mist rolled out from the woods and swept upon the trailer. A murmur broke out amongst the people.

“This has never happened before…” someone said.

“Is it natural?” another.

“I don’t feel good about this.”

Lanie’s eyes were darting around in fear, mine in thrill.

“Do you think they’re part of the show? Trying to get us uneasy?” I whispered.

“No, Kate, I think they’re serious.” The mist was so thick at this point that I could hardly see Lanie. The murmur had grown louder and louder until it finally stopped. Silence took over the trailer, daring anyone to mumble a single word. I looked around as the mist cleared a little and discovered that there was, in fact, no one to mumble.

It was just me and Lanie.

“Woah! They’re gone! I knew they were actors,” I said. I looked at Lanie and saw her hugging herself, shaking. “Are you cold?” I asked.

Lanie could only look at me and tremble.

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“Calm down, we’re fine. They might just jump out from the trees, and we’ll laugh about this on MIDDLE SCHOOL NARRATIVE FICTION

the way home.” She nodded and stared at the ground in silence, trying to stop shaking. I looked around, waiting for someone to jump out. We waited… and waited… and waited. It had been several minutes. Lanie was now darting her eyes around in the darkness, searching and listening for anything to happen. I had gone silent too.

“I’ll go ask the driver what’s taking so long.” I stood up. Lanie grabbed my arm and held onto me as she stood up (she was still shaking very badly). We walked in silence to the tractor that pulled the trailer. We could see the driver’s silhouette through the back window, and he hadn’t been moving.

cars and models of Teslas. I looked at the desk in front of me.

As I rounded the corner to the door with Lanie clinging on to me, I froze in my tracks as I peered inside the tractor. The windshield had been spiderwebbed with the hole of a bullet in the center. In the seat, the driver was slumped over, his mouth agape. His dull, lifeless eyes were open in shock from the unexpected hit.

“Cut the crap and start talking. Why do you need to talk, and where is Lanie?” I hissed.

I stumbled away from the door, knocking Lanie to the ground in my urgency. I spun around to help her back up before pulling her away as I began to run. The mist had returned and was covering the woods in an eerie silence. I pulled out my phone to call someone, but it was dead. I turned to Lanie and dug through her pockets until I found her phone. It was dead, too.

“Kate,” Lanie began, her voice shaking. “What did you see in the tractor?” I turned to her, trying to conceal my panic.

“He’s,” my voice cracked, “he’s dead.”

“Oh… oh my god.” Tears began spilling from her eyes. “What are we gonna do?”

I swallowed, “I’m not sure.” I looked around, avoiding her watery gaze.

“Are we gonna die?”

“No, of course not. I’ll get us out of here.” I saw something creep up behind her, but before I could scream, I was gagged and drugged to sleep.

I woke up tied to a chair in an ornate office. The shelves against the walls were covered in books about MIDDLE SCHOOL NARRATIVE FICTION

“Musk…” I read aloud. I jumped when someone opened the door behind me. Swiveling around, I strained to see who it was.

“What do you want, Musk,” I spat out his filthy name as he walked around to his seat. “Where’s Lanie?”

“Calm down, Kate. It’s nice to see you, too.” His calm voice was infuriating. “I brought you here for a meeting. I need to talk is all.”

“Lanie is safe, I can assure you. Now, why don’t we have some tea?” he offered.

I yelled in annoyance. “No need to be so hasty! I’ll start talking once we get the tea.”

He rang for his butler to bring us the drinks and had me untied at the wrists. “Right,” he said when the butler left the room, “You’re here because you’ve been spreading some rumors.” He pulled out a list.

“Number 1: ‘Elon Musk uses human organs for Tesla engines.’ Number 2: ‘Elon Musk beats his workers if they damage one of the cars.’ Number 3: ‘Elon Musk is corrupting the brains of our youth.’ Number 4:” he sighed. It was a very long list. I sat straight up and stood my ground as he read my many accusations toward his company. “Number 19: ‘Elon Musk makes his wives work for him in order to keep their marriage.’ Now where did that one come from? Honestly, I think that about all of these. What made you think I use human organs for the engines? These accusations are untrue and unfair, and there’s 36 of them! That I know of.” He added quickly in response to my grin.

“I don’t enjoy hearing all of these rumors, so I’m giving you this one warning before I do something worse.

So, stop. You realize that I can and will ruin your life?

I can do almost anything with my money, and I’m not CONTINUED on next page The CLAW 31

FROM previous page afraid to do it. If I hear of any more rumors after two weeks, because I know my workers will find more, then I’m going to ruin your life.” He leaned close when he said it, so I spat in his face. He flinched back and wiped his face with a handkerchief. I made a nasty face. Who still uses handkerchiefs?

“I trust you understand. Have a good day,” he said with disgust coating his voice. One of his butlers came up behind me, and before I knew it, I was gagged and drugged to sleep once again.

I woke up in a cab with Lanie by my side and our hotel pulled up on the GPS. I looked over and saw her studying the GPS, making sure the driver was going the right way and not taking us to another unknown location. I tried to open my mouth and ask the driver who he was, but I was still gagged. I grunted and kicked the back of the driver’s seat. He simply glanced in the mirror and continued driving.

We took the last turn and pulled into our hotel. The driver leaned back and untied us before taking the gag off. I glared at him as we stepped out of the car and walked into the hotel.

That stupid Elongated Muskrat won again. All thanks to his money.

“The Invitation”

by Bailey Hiers, Class of 2027 Ding Dong! What is that? Mail doesn’t come on Sundays. I went to open the door, and there is an envelope on the ground. It has a sparkling red stamp with a long name on it. “Hello? Is anyone there?” I yell, scared.

Whenever I brought it inside to open it, on the inside it said,” Come to this address at 6:00 pm. Sharp. You don’t want to be late.” What is this?! I don’t even know these people! I think they have the wrong address. But, since I’m nosy, I would like to go see what it is. I change out of my pajamas into my nicest suit, slick back my hair, and head out. After driving for an hour, I arrive at my destination just to see it is an old, The CLAW 32

torn-down house. “Are you kidding me? How did I fall for this?! Come on!” Suddenly, a man walks out and asks me,” Where’s the invitation?” “Excuse me?

Look if this is a part of this little prank I- “ “Look, just show me the invitation.” So, I show him it, and he takes me in the old home. Whenever I stepped inside, I fall until I hit a landing pad. Where am I? There are hundreds of men and women walking around everywhere with all of the same badges on. “You are one of us now. We are one of the largest activist groups ever. I have been watching you in your daily life and think you are up for the job.” The strange man confesses. After a little bit of walking around and getting to know the place, he asks me,” So, are you up for the job?” Now, the sound of it all sounds great. But I have a normal life and I love it! So, I said,” I think I will-”

“The Decision of Life or Death”

by Govind Prakash, Class of 2026 The lights dimmed, and my curtains swung open. I felt like I was going to throw up. Why had I ever thought staying here was a good idea? March 2nd, the day Hitler and his killing machines sought to round up every single Jew in all of Germany. I’d heard it on the radio yesterday. We weren’t supposed to have radios, as the new restriction for Jews stated that they could not own radios. I had one anyway, and I’ve hid it from the Nazis and my parents since I was 9. Now I’m 13, 4 years into total Nazi control of Germany. I sat there, angry at my people for whatever they did to make the Germans hate us, angry at myself for staying here with no connection with any resistance or any plans to escape, and most importantly, angry at the Nazis for what they do.

A bright sunny morning turned into a gloomy dark night, with the air filled with silence and emptiness.

I looked out of my window, and right before I did, I heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. A man fell to the ground, filling the once empty air with cries of agony. I flinched, the man looked fairly young, and his life just ended right then and there, in the middle of the street right outside my window. Raising my head MIDDLE SCHOOL NARRATIVE FICTION

just enough for climbing down the soldiers to not the gas pipe. see me, I looked There wasn’t outside and saw much to grip the black trench on, and if I fell, coats and polit was certain I ished black boots would break my of the SS. The leg. I made it SS weren’t any 7 steps down 3 regular German stories. Then, my soldiers - they shoe lost grip, were the worst of and I fell. I was the worst. They woken up with are notorious for spotlights shining committing war around the street crimes and being and loud thumpblood thirsty. I ing sounds of heard loud bangs German soldiers’ on the housboots. I didn’t es across from know what to do. me. “Come out!

This is a potential Come out now life of death situaor you will be tion. Should I run arrested.” The SS for it? Or should I were beginning hide? to round up the Jews! People I sprinted out of came sprawling the backyard into out of their house. a dark alleyway.

I knew what was The stench was about to happen. awful with gar“Line up shoulder Anna Grace Lee, Class of 2023 bage lying around to shoulder!” an everywhere. I SS officer barked. Everyone was next to each other, thought of all I had to live for, how I could grow up with children clutching on to their mothers’ legs. and become a doctor, have children of my own, and become successful in life, and possibly even moving A military truck came around the corner of the street to the United States. I quickly erased the thoughts and parked in front of the house next to me. The from my mind, and I put my mind to survival mode. women and children were ordered to go in the truck, I saw a cafe to the left of where I was. This was the and the men were told to stay. Who knows what they most important decision I’d ever have to make in my were about to do to them? The truck sped off out of life. If I were caught, I’d be killed, or even worse, get my view. Pkow. An old, elderly man dropped to the sent to a concentration camp. That’s it. I ran for the ground. There were about 14 men. Moments later, café, and after I was a couple steps into the street, I more shots followed up, and the cries finally ended. saw 2 German soldiers. I prayed for the best, hoping I had to do something. If I stayed here any longer, I they wouldn’t see me. would be one of the men looking up at the sky too. I knew what I was going to do. I ran for the window.

“HALT!” Telling myself to not look down, I slowly started “ MIDDLE SCHOOL NARRATIVE FICTION

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t Bryleigh Williams, Class of 2027

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