Westerville_Writing_Contest_Winners_2017

Categories: Grades K-2 and 3-5

From left: Megan Stevens, Katherine Zonner, Sarah Sophia Boros, Mira Shyamalan, Rosalie Mujic, Daria Lesmerises and Calvin Pang. Not pictured: Brantley Johnsen.

Grades K-2 1st Place: Bamboo’s First Friend, by Rosalie Mujic 2nd Place: The Adventures of Gadgetman! by Calvin Pang 3rd Place: Inside the Piano , by Mira Shyamalan Honorable Mention: The 3D Man, Brantley Johnsen First place: “Bamboo’s First Friend”

By Rosalie Mujic Once upon a time there was a 2-year-old panda named Bamboo. Bamboo’s parents were very protective of her. One night Bamboo climbed out of her bed and set off on an adventure! Once Bamboo touched the forest ground, she was scared but she did it anyway. She kept walking until she got lost. She was surrounded by trees and she didn’t know which way was home. Suddenly Bamboo heard footsteps coming her way. A few seconds later a baby elephant appeared. Bamboo got a little scared but then she noticed that the baby elephant was as short as her. The elephant’s name was Elizabeth but then she said that everyone called her Elle.

Elle and Bamboo played tag but of course Elle was faster. They played hide and seek and Bamboo won most of the games. Elle was too big. After they played 5 games of hopscotch, they had to make a bigger hopscotch for Elle.

Then the sun rose and they had to go home. When Bamboo’s parents got up Bamboo told all about her adventure in the forest. Then she wanted to show her parents Elle but she didn’t know where she lived.

The next night they met up in the same spot. Bamboo asked Elle where she lived and Elle told her that she lived behind a big bush near there. They wanted to bring their parents to meet each other. So, Bamboo got her parents up and they went to meet Elle’s parents. Elle asked her parents if they could have a sleepover and they said yes. Once Bamboo packed her stuff she went to their house.

They watched a movie and had bamboo-corn and then they had to go to bed.

In the morning, Bamboo and Elle had bamboo-cakes. They played outside and then Bamboo went home. Bamboo’s birthday was coming up and she wanted to invite Elle along with her neighbors. Her parents said yes. The next day Bamboo asked Elle if she could come to her birthday party and she said yes. Bamboo told Elle that they were going to do it in the same spot they met.

It was the day of the birthday party and Bamboo was waiting for everyone to come. Elle was the first to get there, her present for Bamboo was wrapped in golden wrapping paper and it had a silver bow. At the party, they played 3 games and they had cake and opened presents! Bamboo went to bed once all of her friends left.

In the morning, Bamboo woke up, but instead of hearing the swaying trees she heard something that sounded like a tractor?! She went down from her home and she saw a big machine about 20 feet tall!! It was cutting down the trees.

Once her parents woke up she told them what she saw and then she told Elle too. Once Bamboo got home a girl appeared and Bamboo saw she had a blue truck with big bold letters on it that said JESSICA’S ANIMAL SHELTER. Jessica Smith saved animals from the people cutting down the trees and put them in an animal shelter. Jessica went near the spot where Bamboo and Elle lived. She went to Bamboo’s house and said to a guy helping her “It looks like there might be animals here.”

Jessica went back toward the truck and got out a very tall ladder. She went to Bamboo’s house and started climbing. Once she got halfway to Bamboo and her family, she stopped and took a deep breath. Finally, she said “Can you get a cage” to the man. He got a big cage and he climbed up another ladder. Once he got up where she was he gave her the cage. She took 2 steps up and saw the pandas. She reached one hand in and grabbed Bamboo’s dad, mother, and Bamboo. They went down the ladders and went in the truck and drove away.

Once they stopped, Bamboo found herself at a huge building. Jessica took them to a big place marked PANDAS. There were at least 12 more pandas in there! Bamboo was worried – she thought she would never see Elle again. A few minutes later, the door opened. When Jessica walked past her, she heard her say “Where do we put this elephant?”. Then they went back to the door and came back to the panda exhibit and said that “we’ll just keep the elephant in the panda exhibit until we make an elephant exhibit.” Suddenly Bamboo saw that the elephant Jessica brought was Elle! Bamboo was happy that Elle was staying with

her! Once they got used to being there, they were very happy together and stayed friends forever.

The End

Second place: “The Adventures of Gadgetman!”

By Calvin Pang One time there was a boy that just came out of the movie theater. His family was rich,so they went to the movies every Friday. The boy looked to see what the noise was in the alley. He saw robbers! He ran from the robbers and by the time he looked back his family was captured. He didn’t want people’s family’s to be hurt,so he became Gadgetman. If you are wondering what is the boy’s name.

His name is John Bear. Remember that now.

One day John Bear was reading the newspaper,when the radio said Goldman was stealing from the bank. John Bear quickly got into his costume. By the time Gadgetman got there Goldman was running from the bank.Goldman stopped running to fight Gadgetman. Goldman threw a gold net at Gadgetman. By the time Gadgetman got out of the gold net by using his laser to melt the gold net.

Goldman was gone. Gadgetman tried to catch Goldman every time Goldman robbed a bank,but Gadgetman always got caught in a gold net.

The city’s money was running low,so he had to capture Goldman. Then he thought of it! He could use an invisible suit! After a few days the invisible suit was ready. Gadgetman put it on and clicked the button to be invisible. It worked! Just that time the radio said Goldman was robbing the bank. Gadgetman went to the bank.He pressed the button that turned him invisible.He went right in front of Goldman’s face,grabbed Goldman’s hand’s and jumped over Goldman and put handcuffs on Goldman’s hand’s and gave him to the police.

The End

Third place: “Inside the Piano”

By Mira Shyamalan Hi, I’m Anna and there is one thing I like - music. My brother plays the piano and I play... well nothing. I guess I do like to dance to the music sometimes but soon I get tired.

My brother often gets scolded by dad to practice the piano. One day when he went to practice, he could not open his piano correctly. My mom asked quietly “What’s wrong?” He whined, “Mooommm, the piano is not opening properly!” So my mom opened all the parts of the piano, but it seemed like nothing was wrong.

Finally, she looked up and said “There is nothing wrong with the piano. I wonder if the floor is tilted a little bit.” She got her phone and tried to look up how to fix a piano lid. She was standing really close when she dropped her phone into the

piano! Inside the piano we could hear the phone falling Click Clack, Click Clack!

Mom said “Oh no, how are we get the phone out of the piano?” We tried and tried and could not figure it out. So we got ready for bed. We ate some mango and drank a cup of milk. I slowly crawled up the steps to brush my teeth. When I was in bed I wondered what happened to the phone. I had bad dreams about the piano and the phone.

The next morning, I suddenly remembered about how the phone had fallen into the piano. When I went downstairs I was surprised because nobody was awake. I went to the piano but I did not notice that there was a big black hole on top of the piano and in front of it too. I could not see because I had not turned on the light and when I got close to the piano I fell. THUMP! I landed hard on the ground. I sat up and saw a forest in front of me and I could barely see the city way behind it.

That’s when I heard a familiar voice but I could not remember who it belonged to. “Who are you?” I asked. Then a girl came out of the forest and I saw that it was my friend Jenny. She handed me a paper.

“This is how you get back” she said mysteriously. I looked at the paper and saw it had some sentences. I read, Look at the city and see the buildings Make a plan to go to the outside of the city Find the Color Designer “Um, okay” I said not sure that I wanted to go into the city. So Jenny took my hand and led me to the city. All the buildings were grey! The sky was grey!

EVERYTHING WAS GREY! “You see those mountains over there. The Color Designer lives on the very top!” Jenny said. There was a factory at the bottom of the mountain, so Anna thought that going through the factory would be easy. “It’s not easy” said Jenny as if she could read Anna’s mind. “How do we get into the factory?” It’s ruled by the Evil King and Queen. They banished the Color Designer to the top of the mountain. They disliked her and her colors. “How do we get grey?” Anna asked smartly. But Jenny had disappeared. Tears came to Anna’s eyes. The more she cried the more grey she got. Anna soon stopped crying and she noticed that she was grey. Now I can through the factory Anna thought. When she finally came to the door the guard hollered “HALT!” “Go”, then he shouted after checking her.

Anna entered and noticed a staircase going down, a dungeon and a long hallway that curved at the end. Ah ha! Jenny is probably in the dungeon she thought. She ran down the hall and into the dungeon. “Hello?” The room was silent. The only noise was water dripping. “Anna?” There was a rattle from one of the stalls. “How did you get in there?” I asked. “I don’t think you noticed but you were turning grey and I wasn’t so they captured me”. “Do you have a clue?” Anna asked. “Yes” Jenny said. But there’s a very dangerous forest up ahead. When we got to the forest, I stood there. I just stood there. That’s when my body did it. I transformed into a color girl. The color designer came! She blasted colors and rainbows from her hands. And I could tell that she was really happy. That’s when a hole appeared and I fell in it. “Bye” I shouted. “Hey look how many rainbows

there are in the sky” said my brother. And I knew exactly why there were so many rainbows and winked.

Honorable mention: “The 3D Man”

By Brantley Johnsen Once upon a time a 3D man escaped a 3D maker. The 3D maker yelled, “No!” Then in the toy aisle the 3D man passed a dad.

The 3D man said, “I escaped a 3D maker and I can escape you too.”

The dad leaped at the 3D man but the 3D man escaped.

Next the 3D man was in the board game aisle. He saw a mom and the mom saw him. The 3D man said, “You can’t catch me because I have escaped a 3D maker and a dad, and I can escape you, too.”

The mom leaped at the 3D man, but the 3D man escaped. Then he was in the 3D game aisle. He saw a kid and the kid saw him. The 3D man said, “I have escaped a 3D maker, a dad and a mom, and I can escape you, too.”

But the boy got the 3D man and played him.

The end.

Grades 3-5 1st Place: When I Wake Up This Morning, by Megan Stevens 2nd Place: Vole for a Day, by Katherine Zonner 3rd Place: We, the Topiaries, by Daria Lesmerises Honorable Mention: White, by Sarah Sophia Boros First place: “When I Wake Up This Morning”

By Megan Stevens When I wake up this morning I feel like I’m walking through a foggy heatwave.

I am so not used to California. Still feeling like dozing off, I look at my clock …

It’s 8:00! Suddenly I’m not so tired anymore. I hop out of my comfy bed, the only thing that is out of the moving van that is mine, and walk down the long hallway. I decide walking isn’t the best when you're late.

I hurry down our new windy staircase and into the kitchen. I hear my parents downstairs working on making breakfast. As I rush into the kitchen, I see my parents are practically running through the kitchen like me. They must be late too, “Shawn, I am so not used to this time change!” My mom yells as she quickly stuffs my lunchbox with whatever she can find.

“I know Deanna, but it’s for my job here,” Dad replies.

“But I miss New York! I had to leave all my family!” My mom wines.

“Hi guys?” I say.

“Anna you're late!” Mom yells. She is so punctual.

“I know, Mom. Did you make my breakfast?” I ask. My parents look at each other, then at me. All of a sudden my awful little sister, Ella, comes downstairs and is singing the song, The Wheels on the bus. “Ella be quiet!” I yell.

“Oh, good morning Mom, Dad, and the Wicked Witch of the West,” Ella says all snotty like. I honestly didn’t appreciate that last comment about me.

“Ella,” My mom says worried, “What is on your face?” I look down at Ella, how could I have missed it! Ella’s outfit and hairstyle!

She has on striped leggings, one of her ballet skirts, her winter jacket, a I WOKE UP LIKE THIS shirt, and that's just her outfit. On her face it looks like mom’s makeup bag blew up on it! Then her hairstyle, her hair has a hairbrush stuck in it, hair ties making little pony tails all over her head, and looks like it is sprayed down solid with hairspray. I start cracking up over the whole thing, totally forgetting I’m late. Mom gives me a steely look then demands, “Anna, you go get and eat your breakfast and quickly get dressed now! I’m going to help Ella. Shawn, you can packup the car. Now move!” All my family rush to their stations.

I look in the pantry to look for cereal… Yuck! All we have is oat meal. I start to remember my old house. At my old house we always had good cereal, and I was never late for the bus because I never had to take the bus. I decide to skip breakfast. I rush upstairs and into the hallway, I walk over to look in Ella’s room to see how it’s going. I see Mom trying with all her might to get that hair brush out of Ella’s hair. I’m wondering how she’ll ever do it when I enter my new room.

I look into my reflection in my mirror in my room and realize that for once I don’t have a friend waiting for me at school, let alone the bus stop. I wonder if anyone will like me, I’m so different. I look at the clock, It looks back at me telling me to hurry up or I’ll miss the bus.

I race to the closet then remember all my clothes are still in the moving van down the street. I smack my head with my tired hand. How could I be so dumb!

I look down at what I’m wearing right now, I’m wearing my hot pink poodle pajamas. So much for looking normal as I walk down the street. I go downstairs and out the old, but new, creaking door. It is hot! I almost melt into my shoes. I walk down the driveway and onto the sidewalk of our street. I can see our moving van from the corner of the sidewalk. But I can also see my new neighbor Jessica.

She and her parents came to our new house to welcome us to the neighborhood. Her parents are nice but she didn’t seem to friendly. I look again at Jessica and see her wearing normal California clothing, [a tanktop and shorts] and a big backpack swaying back and forth to the movement to her body. Oh no!

I forgot to hurry! I run to the moving van get my clothes, rush back to my house, get my clothes on, get my backpack, and run to the bus stop in record time. I get on the bus right when it comes down the street and realize, I don’t have a lunch box. Oh Well.

Second place: “Vole for a Day”

By Katherine Zonner I opened my eyes, blinking the sleep from them. I glanced over my shoulder to see my sisters curled up in the warm crook of my mother’s stomach. I knew I mustn’t disturb them, so I just sat around the center of the den in boredom in what seemed like moons. Finally, Pine woke up.

“Why are you up so early?” murmured Pine sounding drowsy.

“Oh Pine, it’s not that early!” I responded. “Let’s wake up Stream and see if we can go play a game outside the den.”

“Ok,” Responded Pine.

In the process of trying to awaken Stream, we stepped on my other sister Fawn and woke her up. She agreed to come play with us.

“Mother, may we please go play outside?” all three of us begged.

“Sure, but Bramble, don’t get into any trouble,” she said. “And don’t forget that there are wolves, badgers, and raccoons around, so be careful.”

We padded cautiously out of the den. When we got out, the crisp morning air felt wonderful, and the sweet scent of forest blended into the warm smell of milk on our pelts from the den. There didn’t appear to be any dangers around, so we started to talk.

“What shall we play?” questioned Fawn.

“I dunno,” I replied.

“How about fox and vole?” said Pine softly.

“Ok,” Fawn and I said at the same time.

All three of us scurried over into the clearing. I was the vole first, so my sisters tried to hunt me. However, neither one of them could catch me!

“No fair, Bramble! You’re too fast!” said Pine playfully.

“Ok then, let’s play something else,” I replied.

I wonder what they will want to play next, I thought. It had better be something fun.

“I’ve got an idea! Let’s pretend that wolves are attacking! Pine, you be the wolf, and Bramble and I will still be the foxes!” said Fawn.

“Now that sounds like fun!” I exclaimed.

Pine tried running full speed and jumping at us. However, she missed and fell flat on the ground. Dust went flying everywhere. I was worried that she was hurt.

“I’m fine! Let’s keep playing!” said Pine.

We kept playing wolf attack for the rest of the day until Stream finally yelped for us to come back to the den. All three of us scurried into the den where she told us to stay. She needed to hunt. “Be good!” yelped Stream from outside the den.

We patiently waited until she returned. I sat looking around the earthy den I had been in my whole life, with one corner being my mother’s nest and another corner being tree roots. This was my home. Finally, Stream returned with two juicy rats in her jaws.

“Here you go Bramble. Share this with Fawn,” Stream said softly.

“Yum!” said Fawn.

“Mother, can we go play a little more?” begged Pine.

“Sure,” said Stream, “just be back before dusk.”

All three of us scampered outside again. We didn’t end up playing. Instead, we ended up sitting down and listening to the forest surrounding us. We heard some voles nearby. Being very quiet, I stalked up to where I thought I heard a vole. I saw it, leaped, and caught it!

“Wow, Bramble!” exclaimed both of my sisters.

“That was so cool! The sun is setting though. Let’s go give this vole to mother,” I replied. We went inside, and I showed Stream my vole. She was shocked! She then said it was time to get some sleep after a long day.

“Goodnight Fawn and Pine,” I said.

“Goodnight Bramble,” Pine replied.

“You are the one who caught the vole after all, Bramble,” said Fawn halfawake, half-asleep.

Eventually, each one of us drifted off to sleep after a long day of fun.

Third place: “We, the Topiaries”

By Daria Lesmerises One day, I was running in the park with my dog, Zuzu. We were having a great time when Zuzu went over to sniff a topiary. I followed him a bit and then went back to the path. He followed me and I looked down at him. Oddly, his nose was green. I reached out to touch it but pulled my hand back quickly when he barked at the topiaries. I was looking at the topiaries when Zuzu stopped moving.

A cold sweat dripped down my back as I slowly turned to face him. His petite figure was a beautiful green.

I immediately realized my little Zuzu … had turned into a bush. I yelled his name frantically at the top of my lungs into his ear. But he stayed still. I was still clutching his leash in my hand when I started crying. My hand tingled and the leash dropped to the ground, turning to a bush the same green shade as Zuzu. I looked at my hand mysteriously. Then I realized something had happened to Zuzu – and I needed to stop it!

I called my mom to come pick me up. She hugged the bush Zuzu, then she started toward the car when I heard a wail. She had started crying too. I glanced at her back, which had turned a dark green. She got in the car and the seat started turning green, but it seemed she didn’t notice. I ran into the car and shut the door with a SLAM! I stared at Mom and was going to tell her about her green back. “Mom?” I asked. She answered but stopped halfway through her sentence “Ye-” She had turned to a bush!

Tears streamed down my eyes as I stared in horror. I couldn’t do anything to help her so I dragged her down to Zuzu and shoved the leash into her hand. I noticed I couldn’t feel my hand. I looked down to see my hand was a gorgeous

green. I realized the bushes were making a topiary garden, and I was the last piece. I ran through the other topiaries. I tried to walk over to my mom and Zuzu, but it was getting harder and harder to move. My feet had already turned to bushes. I reached my mom and slipped my hand into my mom’s as everything turned green.

So if you ever visit the topiary garden, go to the very last part and you’ll find Zuzu, my mom, and me. If you see my dad and my sister walking around our topiaries looking for us, you’ll know why. Make sure to tell them we’re still watching over them and we still love them. One day the curse will be lifted and we will go back in time so it’s like nothing happened. If you really do see me, think of me. And remember … don’t touch the topiaries.

Honorable mention: “White”

By Sarah Sophia Boros White is early morning light on a snowy winter day, White is the forgetfulness when your dream slowly fade away.

White are the chess pieces on your side of the board, And the piano keys with no sharp, nor flat chord.

Heavy whipped cream icing is the white layer on my cake, And white is the polar bear cub chasing a loose snowflake.

White is the soaring dove, for peace rolling the welcome mat, And white is the bowl of milk I'm always hiding from my cat.

Snatched, guarded, hidden, lonely, inside tightly locked shell, Trapped under age old, enduringly strange spell, White is the grain of sand, quietly becoming pearl, As white as my ghost buddy in his mad floating swirl.

White is the lone cloud that never gives rain, And white is torn paper screaming in pain.

White is the arctic fox darting through the snow, And white is pure waterfall plunging into rivers flow.

Category: Grades 6-8 and 9-12

From left: Nate Finn, Nick Martz, Maeve O'Connell, Jake Schorling, Carissa Clark. Not pictured: Kaycee Johnston, Hawa Diawara and Christina Prokop.

Grades 6-8 1st Place: Tokidoki, by Maeve O’Connell 2nd Place: Sacred World, by Kaycee Johnston 3rd Place: Let’s Get Sickening! by Nate Finn Honorable Mention: Peaches, by Jake Schorling First place: “Tokidoki”

By Maeve O’Connell Sometimes I feel numb.

Not like the kind of numb you get When you’ve been in the cold too long.

The kind of numb that eats one alive, From the inside out in complete disguise.

Numbness is a slow killer.

Once someone finds out, It seems far too late to rid it of its toxicity.

Sometimes I feel like screeching,

Until my larynx ruptures and scolds me, By making me mute.

I can see the irrationality surging through my veins, In the form of adrenaline and other chemicals, That are imbalanced within my brain.

It makes me want to tear apart trees, Jump on people, from head to head, Or rip shingles off of the school roof.

Sometimes I feel like serotonin Is my only lifeline and I have to hoard As much as I possibly can.

So I can manually weave it into my neurons, Making sure every last molecule is detected.

It restores the harmony in my brain, As if I was myself again.

Sometimes I feel like dulling The overwhelming aspects of my life By distracting myself.

I attack my knuckles mercilessly, As if I were the lion and they were The only nourishment around for miles.

My hair, thin from my attempts to pull out the last sanity from my head, I have killed with these hands.

Sometimes I feel like staring at my scar-riddled body, As if my glare would make my skin envelop Those nasty reminders of the pain I have caused myself.

Other times, I feel like ripping off my sleeves, To let the world see my past mindset.

Sometimes I feel like I am too far gone, To care about showering or changing. I feel like I will cry myself into dehydration, Or I will never eat again.

Never move out of my bed again.

Sometimes I have no motivation or energy.

I wait until drowsiness to approach, Looking forward to skipping through time subconsciously.

Sometimes I feel that some days, Are better-paced than others.

One day I would be at my mind’s mercy; Another I would feel that I could live forever.

Sometimes I wish I could build my mind, like an assembly line-- many ingredients, one product.

That’s just not how brains are wired, unfortunately.

Sometimes I can accept that some things, That occur in my mind are not me.

Just disgusting merciless monsters, Feeding off of my reaction, as their sole purpose for existing being my misery.

I can now sit with my feelings.

Identify them, but not judge them.

Mindfulness is incredibly helpful.

Sometimes I feel like I want to glance Back to these days.

The days that my demons had brought me, To a seemingly bottomless pit.

I yell in attempts to point out the ladder, That can lead one up the hole.

But she doesn’t listen.

My past-self can’t hear me now.

Always, I know I must understand That the past is irreversible.

There are ways to prevent bad things, From happening in the future, By acting in the present.

Instead of reading this poem, With sorrow and pity on your mind.

Please, reread it.

Understand that I have been through this.

I have moved on.

Second place: “Sacred World”

By Kaycee Johnston Math sat before me, a bore as usual.

Nothing different, nothing changing.

Like everyday, I was whisked into my own world.

Cheering, excitement,and happiness.

Was all that was known there No anger, hate, or conformity.

Just me, with a ball at my feet.

No math or chemical equations.

Only the knowledge of my heart I would hear.

To know how to defend The soccer ball and how to score.

That was beauty in my sacred world.

The only thing you had to listen to Was your heart and not your head.

My parents didn't understand me sometimes.

But they told me, and I took it to heart:

“To be different is to be extraordinary.”

Knowing this and with the ball at my feet, I danced across the field, Flicking the ball up.

Rocketing a shot at the net.

I saw myself cheering in delight.

At the goal I scored; The goal that made the difference.

The goal that made us win.

Gripping the trophy in my hand, I cheered with my team, as we won.

Then ,like any other day, I was yanked from my sacred world, To the real one.

With the trophy gone and only a yellow pencil Remaining in my hand.

I looked back down at the math, That loomed below me.

Boring as usual.

Third place: “Let's Get Sickening!”

By Nate Finn Looking in the mirror, Putting on my makeup.

I find a little kid me looking back me.

He tells me I need to be as fierce as I can be.

I finish up my makeup.

My face glowing to the gods.

I hold a pair of Cha Cha Heels and a dream.

Those Cha Cha Heels are going to make me perform, Even more fierce than usual.

I put on those Cha Cha Heels, Get on my blonde lace front wig.

I start walking down the street.

I get a bit nervous of what people will think.

Then I remember seeing other gay people, Being proud of who they are.

That makes me feel better.

Mama always told me:“Be yourself, that's who we love.”

That stayed with me all day.

Although people always try to bring my confidence down, Which really bugs me.

I just ignore it though.

I have always wanted to be drag queen.

Every since I was 12.

Tonight is my first show.

I gotta decide which song I’m gonna perform to.

I decide on Toxic by Britney Spears, That song has always been my good luck charm.

I come out on stage and everyone is amazed at my fierceness.

It’s my moment to shine.

I jump up and land in a death drop, Which makes the crowd go wild.

I get off the stage, Wondering what this might bring me in the future.

Honorable mention: “Peaches”

By Jake Schorling I remember the thick smell of flaming cigarettes.

The flick of a lighter, while sitting on the concrete step.

The boiling of peaches on the morning rise.

The wonderful smelling peaches slipping into the mouth upon awakening.

I wake up and open the curtains.

Letting in the glistening red sunrise over the 18th hole.

The crackling of the rock driveway, as the relatives pull up.

The screen door slams shut, as the relatives skip in.

I am waiting for hugs and kisses in an old spinny chair.

The relatives slowly greet everyone.

The noise of the little dog’ chain clinking together, As she jumps and greets everyone.

The awkward silence while sitting on the old- scented couches.

The silence was then broken by an idea from the elder.

We walk to the attic on the steep, creaking steps.

We go find the treasures within.

A deer named Larry came out of the dusty shadows, With one missing leg and a cheering smile.

Grandma said, “What is that?”

I responded, “It's my new friend!”.

As I walked to the country club with my new friend Larry, I was soon followed by the shadows of giants.

The noise of the calm crisp lake as I settle down to take a break.

The firing sun soon fell down as we ate all night, While listening to the skipping of rocks on the glistening lake.

The noise of crickets chirping, As we close the curtains and sleep for another day.

Grades 9-12 1st Place: Simply Music, by Nick Martz 2nd Place: Half a being, by Hawa Diawara 3rd Place: Human Thought, by Carissa Clark Honorable Mention: Frederick Douglass, by Christina Prokop First place: “Simply Music”

By Nick Martz For my experience in “simple living,” I decided to go all the way and take away whatever electronic device that was closest to me. I figured that if I have to do this, why hold back? I thought that maybe I’d even get something spiritually redeeming out of it all. I knew right away what I spent the majority of my time on: TV and video games. These to take up at least half of the hours in my day. From whenever I get home to midnight, on a good day, I would immediately go to my room and watch or play whatever I felt like. I also made the decision that I would be going both days with I felt excited to be doing something out of my regular schedule, it was like I had been walking in a rut. I can honestly say that this project has actually done something for me. I have henceforth changed my regular schedule and I’m happy for that.

The first day I trudged home after a long emotional day of theatre rehearsal. I climbed the steps slowly remembering the commitment I had made and bitterly regretted it. I slumped into bed wondering what I would do to occupy myself. I looked across my room to see my beautiful acoustic guitar shimmering in the light. The dusty old thing had not been touched in nearly four years since I had quit taking lessons. I grabbed it and strummed a few chords, the untuned strings screamed with agony. I slowly got to work restoring its sound to it’s former glory.

Soon the sound was bearable and I began to play. I’m definitely no master but I began to remember more and more chords. I looked up progressions of various songs and played until my fingers were numb. There was something oddly satisfying about the encompassing sound the strings made. I felt a strange clarity and fullness to my mind. Never have I had a better night’s sleep I returned home the second day just as I had the first. Only this time I rushed up the steps with a newfound enthusiasm as I picked up my guitar. I felt a similar clarity as I had the night before. I also sang. I sang with passion. The culmination of the two paring musical voices, the guitar’s and mine, rang through me giving me chills. Sometimes a feeling would encompass me and I would play. I would also write. The music spawned a certain creativity within me that I had no idea existed. Not a single other problem concerned me. I didn’t worry about homework or the One Acts.No, the only possible thing I could comprehend was the music.

The feeling within the air was plain. Simply music.

This project has brought something I had never expected. Sometimes I didn’t even know this event could occur within my life. Change. When I get home I no longer go straight to the TV but to my guitar. To my music. I’ve discovered

something that I never would’ve known about had it not been for this project. Had it not been for Henry David Thoreau, that guitar would have stayed untouched.

And unplayed. We sometimes forget to appreciate things in life. Especially music.

Simply music.

Second place: “Half a Being” (inspired by the book Half the Sky)

By Hawa Diawara Half dead barely alive Uneducated women tamed by tradition Dishonoring women by honoring their deaths A hijab means more than their life Honoring of genitals is honoring of blood Because a husband lied that the sheet they slept on was as white as day A woman died half a being A round world Where sex is cared for more than a starving child Ignorance is a small price Easy to borrow as easy to pay As knowledge is expensive Only the wise can afford If women stay uneducated The world will keep bleeding.

As they would only be half a human being What would men be without women As they contribute freshness to civilization volume upon volume they learn to accept Accepting of their inescapable fate created by men Men learn to adapt the world to themselves While women learn to adapt themselves to men If violence destroys women, would silence destroy men?

Honored for their most precious hymen The shame of honor will not be taken lightly Woman tattoo death on their bodies As a reminder that it isn’t theirs The world is still because men don’t die for completing their reproductive function The world would go round if women didn’t die in childbirth If an Islamic woman is grateful she is rewarded with her husband’s love If she were to curse, she’d die in her parent’s hands because of their love

The empowerment of women is as blind as their helping hands holding up half the sky Ignorance is bleak knowledge is expensive.

If everyone had it We’d all be rich

Third place: “Human Thought”

By Carissa Clark I find it interesting how human thought translates to words on a page, A couple of scribbles like a galaxy swirling on a page, With each letter representing a single star.

What about making a pen bleed seems desirable to some?

Maybe it’s the release of a storm inside one’s head Or being able to create one in another’s.

Or maybe the love lies in the fact that I can move and change people’s lives With a mark on a page like an oncoming truck, Crash!

You’ll never be the same, Your life has been altered from a clean slate into an old notebook forgotten ideas.

Could the comfort come from knowing that you will be heard?

Maybe the love of writing comes from the ability to see how you’ve grown, How you’ve chased the world and didn’t let it cave in on you.

I suppose these words find hope in their placement in a sentence, Yet it is odd to write and know that it is inevitable that my words will be destroyed.

These words are a ratty quilt that your grandmother made, Torn apart and sewn together just to create some warmth.

These plastic premade printed words make their journey from my skull, Scattered and worn, thrown about Until they are placed gently onto the page by my brittle fingers Like new born baby in a crib.

The whole process is just as therapeutic as it is hectic.

Yes, they will be picked apart, piece by piece and burned and buried,

Still the sound of pen meeting paper like listening to rain pitter patter on a window, And the click-clack of the keys of a keyboard are evidence of the ideas coming to life.

These words are the most important thing on earth, They could save the entire human race with their presence.

Each word has a purpose and there is nothing more powerful.

My only wish is to string them together in a way that proves their power to everyone.

Honorable mention: “Frederick Douglass”

By Christina Prokop Frederick Douglass’ story showed that slavery is a dehumanizing process. By gaining his freedom, he not only regained his humanity but also fought for the humanity of thousands of other slaves. Douglass was sold into slavery as a young child, but he still had hope for freedom until he was sent to a brutal slaveholder, Mr. Covey. After having his humanity stripped away from him by this cruel man, he had to find a way to gain back his freedom and old way of thinking.

Douglass had been with his master, William Hamilton, for nine months. Mr. Hamilton decided that he didn’t work hard enough, and resolved to send him to Mr. Covey, a poor farmer, to be “broken”. As soon as he arrived at Mr. Covey’s plantation, he was beaten and whipped. Douglass had to work all day, no matter the conditions, and sometimes through the night. Mr. Covey would urge him on with his words and with his lash. On page 82, Douglass says “Mr. Covey had succeeded in breaking me. I was broken in body, soul, and spirit. My natural elasticity was crushed, my intellect languished, the disposition to read departed, the cheerful spark that lingered in my eye died; the dark night of slavery closed in upon me; and behold a man transformed into a brute!” (Douglass 82). This shows how Douglass was transformed from a man into a slave. He was beaten and worked so hard that he lost his ability to read, feel, and think. He had been broken by Mr. Covey, just like his old master had wanted.

Douglass slipped further and further into depression and hopelessness, and almost all of his dreams of freedom had died. One day, he became sick from working in the heat and was badly beaten by Mr. Covey. He ran away to his old master to beg for help, but he wouldn’t help him. He met another slave in the woods, Sandy Jenkins. Sandy gave him a root which he said made it impossible for a white man to whip him. Douglass returned to Mr. Covey’s, and started to work for him again. One day, Mr. Covey came into the stable where Douglass was working and tried to whip him. Douglass mustered up all his strength to seize Mr. Covey by the throat and hold him back. He then proceeded to fight him, and win. On page 93, Douglass says “This battle with Mr. Covey was the turning point in my career as a slave. It rekindled the few expiring embers of freedom,

and revived within me a sense of my own manhood. It recalled the departed selfconfidence, and inspired me again with a determination to be free.” (Douglass 93). This shows how Douglass was made from a slave into a man, with the encouragement of other slaves and his own strength.

After Douglass had regained his humanity, he began to fight for the humanity of other slaves. He was now a free man, and he began to attend anti-slavery meetings among whites. He also began reading a newspaper called The Liberator, which helped him understand the anti-slavery reform deeply. On page 147, he said: “I had not long been a reader of the Liberator before I got a pretty correct idea of the principles, measures and spirit of the anti-slavery reform. I took right hold of the cause. I could do little; but what I could, I did with a joyful heart, and never felt happier than when in an anti-slavery meeting” (Douglass 147). Douglass was also asked by William C. Coffin to give few speeches on slavery, which he did. This shows how after Douglass gained his freedom, he began to fight for the freedom of other slaves. I think a major reason why he did this was because he knew what it was like to be stripped of his humanity and he didn’t want others to have to go through what he did. This also proves that Douglass had regained his humanity, because even after he had experienced so many terrible things, he still had a loving heart and wanted to help others.

The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass is an inspiring account of a person’s journey from man to slave to man. Douglass had raised himself to become a intelligent, determined young man, but this was all taken away by Mr. Covey. He had to rely on other slaves and himself to fight as hard as he could to overcome his hardships, and he faced many obstacles when doing so. He was incredibly strong mentally, and this is what allowed him to complete his journey to freedom and continue to help other slaves along the way.

Work Cited Douglass, Frederick. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave. Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 2000.

Category: Adults Ages 18 & Up

From left: Errol Zoog, Hannah Haines, Angie Zielinski, Linda Barr and Bryan Campbell.

1st Place: Virgin Pool, by Bryan Campbell 2nd Place: Perseverance, by Angie Zielinski 3rd Place: Rainy Days, by Hannah Haines Honorable Mention (1st): Bedtime, by Linda Barr Honorable Mention (2nd): The Happy Fish, by Errol Zoog First place: “Virgin Pool”

By Bryan Campbell Adam and I gaze out his tall bay window, down the muddy hill to the pool at the bottom.

Crystal water, surrounded by a bright band of fresh concrete and a proper fence, sits like a sparkling island in a sea of mud that will soon become lawn.

Just filled, we will be first. With shorts and towels, we are ready to conquer.

Jill comes in wearing a pink bikini and a sly smirk. “Dad wants you, Adam.”

But it was supposed to be just us…

Out in the garage, Adam’s dad has us knee-deep in mud boots. I can tuck my shorts into the tops of mine. Adam looks as silly as I feel.

Jill actually looks good— I must be crazy! Her dad is here and besides, she’s Adam’s annoying sister.

“I expect those boots to come off before you step onto my new pool deck.” Adam’s dad locks me with his gaze. “I won’t have a nasty pool.”

“I’ll be careful, sir.” I say “sir” because his house is like a castle and he has two Corvettes in the garage.

He’s a smiler, a backslapper, a good fellow, but I also see predatory teeth and sense his gravitational will.

“I expect you to come up to the house if you have to go to the bathroom.”

Awkward laughs.

He smiles. “If you go, I’ll know. The pool is treated with a special dye that turns blue when there’s urine.”

“No way!” I say, disbelief overcoming careful deference.

Now his teeth are on full display. His gaze penetrates me, as if by his will alone he can cauterize my urinary functions. “Do not pee in my pool.”

“Yes, sir. I never do, sir.” I lie, because the truth is somewhat different. I believe shock at the idea of urinary banditry is feigned— culturally expected— something everyone does.

I think he knows. But I’ve said all the right things.

He releases us.

We slog down the hill, not waiting for Jill, mud sucking and clinging with each step. At the pool gate, we evacuate our boots, leaving them stuck in brown muck, and step onto the warm white concrete that surrounds the glistening oasis.

I glance down to check for errant mud— success!

Adam is my first friend with a real, in-ground, pool. This afternoon promises to be only the first of many excellent days this summer.

The air is hot and still, the pool’s surface smooth, like glass. I can read the logo emblazoned on the pool drain far below, as if the water isn’t there.

Is it possible, in those perfect depths, a malignant trap is set?

“I think your dad is kidding about the dye.”

“Daddy knows who invented the chemical,” Jill says, stepping out of her boots.

We jump in to beat Jill— glacial chill takes my breath away. Jill only sits and dangles her feet over the edge.

She is so distracting.

I dive off the board to one side. Adam dives the other way and drops a monster cannonball nearly on top of Jill, destroying her luxurious repose.

Sibling war ensues; pool noodles and strainer poles are used to great effect.

They reach a truce and now we are all in the water together. For a few magical minutes, everything is perfect. Jill smiles and laughs. I’m forgetting myself, lost in pure pleasure— I have to pee.

I look at the stuck boots, the muddy hill, and contemplate the long slog to the house.

Adam and Jill resume the sibling war.

I’m no one’s sucker.

Carefully, underwater, I pull the drawstring of my shorts and peek inside. What if… just a tiny bit… my heart races— nothing. I jiggle my hips and try to stir it up, to activate it. Maybe it takes time… nothing. Maybe a little more... no blue.

I thought so.

“Your dad didn’t put any dye in here,” I announce, triumphant. “I just tested it!”

Jill stops beating Adam with the pool noodle— they both look at me.

“Gross.” Jill jumps out, like the pool is suddenly infested with piranhas. “I’m telling Daddy.”

I watch her slog up the muddy slope, helpless to take back my triumphant discovery, to save a perfect summer.

Later, Adam told me his dad actually drained the pool and refilled it— not that it matters to me.

“At least now you know.” I said to Adam.

“Know what?”

“There isn’t any magic dye.”

“Yeah there is,” Adam says. “Dad said he put some in when he refilled it.”

“But…” Then I remember that smile— those sharp teeth, the pull of dark gravity— that oppressive will. I twists and bends his actual into something fantastical… something false.

Over there, things are not clear. Not clean.

It’s all illusion… like the dye.

Second place: “Perseverance”

By Angie Zielinski Rrrriiiinnng. Rrriiiinnnng.

"Ahhhh. Wwhhhy?" Dr. Jennifer Pham, 31 years old and a 3rd year medical resident at the Queen City Medical Center, was woken up by the phone in the on call room. She checked the time on her iPhone. It was 3:45 in the middle of the night or morning or whatever. Dang she felt tired. She had been in the hospital for 30 consecutive hours and had 6 more to go till her shift ended.

Today had been a crap day with two codes in the last 30 hours. One patient - 80 year old Mr. Slozky survived. He came in for gallbladder surgery and seemed to be recovering fine when he went into ventricular tachycardia and sudden cardiac arrest. The man looked 20 years younger and would now require a pacemaker/defibrillator but easily had another 10 to 15 years of good life ahead of him.

The other patient - 43 year old Julia Evans wasn't so lucky. Four kids would now grow up without a mother. She had been brought in two days ago after a motor vehicle accident. She required a splenectomy and surgical repair of a compound femur fracture. Twenty-four hours after surgery, she had been awake, alert and appeared to be recovering amazingly well.

According to the nurses, Julia's two teenage sons were at an out of state basketball camp and their grandparents were driving out to pick the boys up and bring them home. Julia's 4 year old blonde cherub twin girls came with their Dad and were able to visit with their Mom just that afternoon. At 10 pm Jennifer heard the code blue overhead page and ran to Julia's room. The room had been transformed in the last 24 hours with family photos and hand drawn cards

taped to the walls and windows. Jennifer looked at Julia's pale, lifeless body and saw the organized chaos of the code blue team. She then saw the rhythm strip - pulseless electrical activity or PEA which had an incredibly high mortality rate. No, no, no!Jennifer thought. The only way to bring Julia back was to treat the underlying cause which Jennifer knew in her bones was a massive pulmonary embolism. Julia assisted the code blue team and the attending physician. They administered tPa, a clot busting drug, but it was too late. The attending made Jennifer stay to assist him in notifying the family. The hardest part of the job he said and Jennifer wholeheartedly agreed.

And now the ringing of the phone meant it was time to go back onto the floor of the hospital. Jennifer took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"Dr. Pham," she answered.

"Jennifer," said Molly, the night desk clerk for the Surgical Intensive Care Unit.

"Yeah," replied Jennifer tiredly.

"Your sister is on the phone and she says it's a family emergency. Should I transfer her?" asked Molly.

Was this a joke? It had been 19 years since... "Molly, who are you trying to reach?"

Jennifer asked in a quiet voice.

Molly blew out a breath. "She said her name is Nancy Pham and that she needed to talk to you, her sister, Dr. Jennifer Pham about someone named Ba." Ba, Jennifer thought. Ba, the Vietnamese word for Father. Jennifer let out a sharp bark of laughter and asked Molly to take a message. Then Jennifer's memories transported her back to when she was just 6 years old...

Third place: “Rainy Days”

By Hannah Haines The last apartment complex we moved to that summer, that’s where I saw her. I was 15 and Jim was 10, and Mom had not told us why we had to pick up our lives and leave them behind again.

The place was like a fortress. It had four different rows of apartments all facing each other.

In the middle there was a playground, one of those metal ones that are intimidating to climb.

All the colors had been scraped off besides the blue on the bottom of the slide. There wasn’t much grass, just a small amount lining the edges of the playground. We were surrounded by a chain-link fence, caged.

My favorite thing to do was climb out of my window and sit on the roof. This was where I felt the most freedom. I would watch Jim play with his friends on the playground, but I knew I was too old to play. All the kids in this complex were younger than me and Jim didn’t want his big brother always hanging around. Sometimes I wanted to join in. Sometimes I wanted to have something to do and people to talk to. But I was used to being on my own. It was easier that way.

I always made sure to climb back in my window before Mom got home from work. She would beat me if she saw. I just knew she would.

It was the first rainy day in the complex, since we had moved in. The gray clouds covered the sky and I heard the tapping of the rain on the windows. The metal playground became a

lightning rod as the thunder began to roll in. Jim was still outside, playing right next to it. I immediately called him into the apartment. “If you don’t come inside right now the lightning will strike you down into the ground!” I said. He was terrified of lightning. The rain however, seemed harmless to him.

I climbed onto the roof like I always did. I knew I was getting wet from the rain but I didn’t care.

Through the rain crashing down onto the concrete I could hear a voice, singing. I could not make out the words and to this day I wish I ‘d asked the singer. It was a woman who was stripped down to her underwear. She was probably 60 years old, but at that age I called everyone with grayish hair a grandma. She had left the door of her apartment wide open. She held her hands straight up into the air like she was reaching for something. She began to spin around and sing and dance. It looked like a ritual. She moved her arms in all directions without any rhythm, flinging them into the air. Her feet just tapped on the concrete; sometimes her heel would tap and other times she tapped her toes.

I found myself not being able to go back inside. Her bare feet on the wet ground seemed to slap painfully, but her face seemed completely content. Everyone else was hiding in their homes, hiding from the rain. She didn’t seem to care. Not a soul was around but me and her.

I made a habit of going outside and watching her dance whenever it rained and whenever Mom was at work. I wonder if she knew I was watching. There was something beautiful about it. Me, watching innocently from the background as she enjoyed her life. One day I stayed until the rain had stopped. She plopped down on the concrete and closed her eyes. For a moment, I thought she was dead. My first instinct was to yell down to her, but I didn’t want to disrupt her peace. It was starting to get dark out, which meant Mom was supposed to be home soon. So I climbed back in my window, and the woman was gone by morning.

Toward the end of the summer, it hadn’t rained for a few weeks. I still sat on my roof and waited. Whenever the sky would get a little cloudy, I would run back inside and go out my window. I started to worry about her. I started to wonder what she did inside of that apartment when it wasn’t raining. It was like she didn’t have a life when the sky was clear.

I realize now, something I wish I would have known then. The woman was never actually alone. And neither was I. We had an unspoken pact. We were together in the loneliest of rainy days. Even if I was confined to my roof. Even if she didn’t know I existed. She was happy and seeing her like that made me happy. And I missed that. And I still miss that today.

First honorable mention: “Bedtime”

By Linda Barr The storm was pretty scary, Jill told herself. It was nearly 11 pm, but with the nonstop lightning, she could clearly see the trees outside tossing in the wind. The living room windows rattled as rain hammered against them.

Her husband Peter looked up from his book. “I hope the power doesn’t go out.”

“Me, too!” Jill kept her voice steady so Peter wouldn’t tease her again about being afraid of storms. Just then, a crash of thunder seemed to shake the walls. The TV show that Jill was watching flickered. Seconds later, they heard their son thumping down the hallway from his bedroom. Seven-year-old Aiden soon appeared in the doorway, clutching the teddy bear that

he apparently would never outgrow. He shouted, “I can’t sleep with all this noise! It sounds like someone’s inside the house!”

Jill paused the TV and got up to give her son a hug. “Go get back in bed and pull the covers up to your chin, buddy. Before you know it, the storm will be over, and you’ll be fast asleep. Remember how early the school bus comes in the morning?”

“Go on, Aiden,” Peter added with a reassuring smile. “Mom and I are right here to keep you safe.” Aiden sighed dramatically, reluctantly turned, and slowly headed back to his bedroom, dragging his bear by one ear.

Peter yawned. “I can’t keep my eyes open, so I’m going to bed, too. I’ve got an important meeting first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll come as soon as this show is over,” Jill told him.

About ten minutes later, Jill clicked off the TV and walked through the living room and kitchen, turning off lights. She made sure the front door was locked and went to check the back door.

“Darn!” she whispered. Someone, probably Aiden, had forgotten to lock the back door. That was the second time this week. She would have to talk to him about it--again. Then she checked on Aiden, who was fast asleep in his bed, clutching his bedraggled bear.

Whenever Peter went to bed early, Jill used the guest bathroom to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. That way, she wouldn’t wake him by using the master bathroom.

Teeth brushed, Jill quietly headed down the hall. As she stepped into their bedroom and passed their closet, she could see that Peter’s side of the bed was empty. She noticed a sliver of light under the bathroom door, on the far side of the room. He’s still in there, she told herself, slipping into bed.

Jill sighed, closed her eyes, and felt her body begin to relax, melting into the sheets. Rain continued to batter the roof. Still, she was sliding into sleep when she heard a scraping sound from the closet.

Jill opened her eyes and spotted a shadow moving out of the closet and into the bedroom.

“Peter,” she whispered, “turn on the light so you can see where you’re going.”

Just then the bathroom door opened—on the other side of the bedroom. Peter was standing in the doorway, outlined by bright light from the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. “What did you say?”

Jill swallowed. Had she been dreaming? No, she was pretty sure she had been awake. The shadow had looked like Peter, like a man….

“What did you say, Jill?” Peter asked again. “Do you need something?”

Jill opened her mouth, but no words came out. With the light from the bathroom, she could see that no one else was in their bedroom. What could she say to Peter? That she saw a shadow that couldn’t have been there? She must have been dreaming….

“Uh… let’s both sleep with Aiden tonight,” she whispered, getting out of bed. “There’s plenty of room in his big bed….”

“Is Aiden still awake? Anyway, his bed isn’t that big, not for all three of us,” Peter protested.

“Jill, who is really scared of the storm, Aiden--or you?”

“Uh… It’s not the storm, Peter. Really! I… I heard a noise, and the back door wasn’t locked….”

“Did I forget to lock it again? Sorry! I’ve just been distracted by the meeting tomorrow morning. Speaking of which, I really need to get some sleep.” Peter pulled back the covers on

his side of the bed and sat down. “Jill, go ahead and sleep with Aiden if it will make you feel better.”

“I… I guess I will sleep with him. He might wake up and be scared,” Jill mumbled, glancing around the bedroom one more time. “Good night, Peter!”

She hurried down the empty hallway to her son’s bedroom. The pounding wind and rain made it hard to hear any other noises. I had to be dreaming, she told herself again. Nothing else makes sense….

Second honorable mention: “The Happy Fish”

By Errol Zoog She liked to watch the world fall away. Most people liked to stand at the very front of the boat and feel the water spray on their faces as if flying. But not her, she liked to stand at the stern. Leaning over the back railing she still got the sensation of being disconnected, but instead of flying she imagined the world speeding away from her. She stood there as the sun began to set, the long emerald horizon of Exuma Sound spread out as if cascading towards the sun.

Her memories of the world were not sentimental. They were big, they were defined, but they were not sentimental. There was a pungency to them as strong as the smell of brine and heat escaping the atmosphere. They spread out like the atolls and cays, most of them uneventful as the small uninhabited scraps of land. But when surrounded by so much sea, beautiful, tropical, and always temporary, they were the crooked rocks that formed a life. They explained how she had ended up on this boat in the Bahamas. But that story was in the wake just starting to fall away.

As a girl, there were many things she was told she could not be, but any last resentment stretched out as thin as the sheen of water they accelerated over, speeding over depths she could not quite comprehend. Amos had told her the rest of the crew could see it bubble up in her eyes. She had felt shame when he told her this, and for the next few days she had not let her burden weigh heavy as she shared in their end of the day jokes. But after a few days Amos had told her that every man, every woman, every child had burdens, and if there was a price to pay it would be paid. And he had been right, for that sleepless night it had gathered up somewhere in the periphery like a tropical storm, and then hit her with the full force of a hurricane in the late hours.

Maybe the heat and her memories were like the tide, receding back into the sun. But as the sun set and they docked, the memories were reflections that were lost in the night, suspended they bobbed in the world that had fallen away. She laughed, as Amos held a cubera snapper at the end of the dock for her, its large comical mouth and thick lips making it for a moment look like a terrified clown before he released it into the water, cursing as it splashed him.

Powerfully it whipped itself away from the boat’s light into the darkness. For a moment, she longed for it to reappear. But as she stood on the shore, the moon and stars reflecting off the Caribbean, imagining it returning to its reef like a giant aquarium she had seen as a girl, she imagined it a happy fish.

The thing she had learned about escaping to faraway places was, unless there was this darkness of amnesia, even for but a few minutes, she could never become the island.