INK Magazine South Salem HS 2014

ink magazine 2014

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Table of contents

ART

MUSIC

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PAGE 4

POETRY SHORT STORIES PAGE 5-6

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PHOTOGRAPHY PAGE 8

CHLOE CURTIS

Executive Editor / Designer RACHAL MEZA ROJAS Public Relations Director JULIE McGOWAN E BL

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INK magazine

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Contact 503-399-5542 1910 Church St. SE Salem, OR 97302 clypian@southsaxons.com INK Magazine, published for use

by SSHS students, faculty and staff, is private property. A single copy of INK Magazine is free for single copies per household. Additional copies may be purchased for 50 cents each. Unauthorized removal of multiple copies will be considered theft and is prosecutable. Copyright 2014.

Managing Editors ASHLEA DIAZ OLIVIA FORD SATIVA HELMER SAMANTHA SCHAFER Web Editors TYLER NORBURY BRYCE RAY Publisher BRIAN ERIKSEN Special Thanks ELIZABETH CALLAHAN KATIE GILMOUR CLYPIAN STAFF

Art

AliceFallin y b s g i R a l y a K

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g

Grade 12

Acrylic painting w it

h an ink transfer.

A Study of the Mermaid Kayla Rigsby Grade 12

Acrylic painting with an ink transfer.

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Music Connect

Takur Conlu Grade 10

This is an arrangement of Connect by ClariS, the opening theme from the anime, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, for the Alto Sax. The instrumental of the original song can be used as an accompaniment.

Go online to Clypian.com to hear Takur’s live rendition.

Poetry East Loss This hill is still crusted in snow, The branches casting etches of cobwebs above my head, they turn to Lace before my eyes. And they burn with the East, Alighted in screaming oranges and pinks Turning my retinas to gold.

Some days, like today, I wish I didn’t have to turn the bend in my road towards the northern nothingness, I wish I could run away. Into the eastern sunlight, Enveloping my bones in light to carry.

There are hills there that only plague my dreams, And somewhere Over streams and mountains lies Chicago.

If only I could ever make it away from This valley clinging down my skin with sodden fabrication, The lies and truth of what never really was home to me.

My mother always wanted to run west but I itch for East.

Elli Van Der Linde Grade 10

The Forest Time was still.

Everything awoke abruptly.

Motions were blurred I heard the Sound of men chasing us through The forest. Leaves crunching.

Branches snapping. The man held My hand almost dragging me.

He kept on repeating, “Sh, keep Moving don’t stop. We stop we die.”

We then found a low under cut in a Ravine. We took refuge.

The man then handed me a pistol.

He then asked, “Do you remember what I told you?” I told him, “Yes.” The man then ran off. He was gone For an exceptional amount of time.

I began to worry.

Sounds began to resonate in the Forest, unknown; mechanical; Inhuman. Then I began to see Shapes forming in the woods.

Humanoid in nature. Closing in.

They were coming to get me.

Fear was over taking me.

I then gripped the pistol.

They were closing in.

I brought it to the ready.

After that. Everything went dark.

Ryan Greenspan Grade 12

[Untitled] If only life was a circle that never ended.

If only death was an imaginary point on a separate plane.

If only sickness was a line parallel to health, never meeting.

If only health was an infinitely large plane exactly equal to life.

If only love was timeless.

If only friendship was inseparable.

If only...

Kaitlyn Clawson Grade 10

Loss is not just an emotion.

It is a pain that starts at the base of my throat.

It starts out as a cancerous lump, that gets bigger and bigger, Until it erupts.

Then the pain spreads like a fire, Burning its way through my body, And overwhelming my mind.

The burn then subsides and, like drinking whiskey, It leaves my soul numb.

The burn is now gone, but so is the relief.

Life turns into a hollow balloon threatening to float away.

I want to it let go, but eventually, Someone walks into my life.

They hold me together, and everyday easier.

They stitch the tear in my heart.

The lost will never be forgotten, They will always be loved.

Their love will be remembered, And turn into a permanent scar.

Loss isn’t just an emotion; It will always remain as a part of you.

[Unknown]

His Silence he would Sit at the window and Stare at the wall and he would Pretend he was Nothing at all he wouldn’t Say anything not one single Sound these invisible Chains Held him tightly bound oh, he’d Think things, of course and all the words he Didn’t say Swirled about in his brain Dreaming and Longing for Freedom one day;

Hope Magee Grade 11

How Will I Respond How will you respond?

When, life pushes you down, How will you respond?

When you give up, How will you respond?

When someone gets bullied, How will you respond?

If you get abused, How will you respond?

If you are stuck in problems, How will you respond?

If you feel like giving up, How will you respond?

Your response will be all from yourself.

When you need help, or someone you see needs help, that’s your option to stand up and fight for yourself.

You can’t sit down and expect everything to come your way.

Stand up and fight for your right.

Alex Cristobal Grade 10

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Poetry

The Longest Day

[Untitled]

It was a cold morning, The waters were chilled like the icy Grip of death itself.

We have been traversing the ocean For days now.

Hunger has set in.

Insomnia has taken it’s toll.

We were all very aware of What was to come.

We approached the beach, Time began running slow.

The enemy in site.

The boats just ran aground the gates Dropped and we charged.

Hundreds of thousands of soldiers Storm the beach.

Madness ensues.

Bullets fly everywhere.

It seems silence was almost Unthinkable on that fateful day.

People were falling dropping like flies As the steaming lead gave them a One way trip to god.

Minutes after I saw my friend get hit With a stray round.

I soon followed his fate.

A 30-06 round hit me square in the Leg. Very near to the femoral artery.

As I lay there bleeding out calling To my corpsman. I began to realize.

It’s happening. This is the time.

The corpsman suddenly appears Into my hazy vision he sees the Wounded leg and begins to treat.

But, it is too late shock has already Set in. As he begins haphazardly Treating the leg for the bullet wound As this process continued.

The world began to spin and fade In and out of color. Then everything Just went black.

From night to day I feel you, Pain You’re here to stay You make me insane

Ryan Greenspan Grade 12

With all my might I don’t give in I continue to fight But I just can’t win You push me down But still I try I feel I’ll drown As I start to cry You just won’t leave Therefore I stop I let You achieve With one final drop You’re in my soul You’re one with me No longer do you control But now I see I’d tried so hard I just wanted to forget Now I’m scarred My path is set It could be Fate But no matter what I can no longer hate For that door has shut It’s the way it is With one final show One last kiss I let the hurt go Don’t think I won My battle was lost But I no longer run I paid the cost

Ashlea Diaz Grade 12

Short Stories

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Extended version available at Clypian.com

David Weber Grade 10

Short short stories

A

few months ago, just before my English students read a short story by Ernest Hemingway, I shared with them the following anecdote concerning Hemingway’s writing style. The story is the ultimate example of what Hemingway is best known for-his economical writing style that says so much in very few words.

“Apparently, Ernest Hemingway was lunching at Luchow’s with a number of writers and claimed that he could write a short story that was only six words long. Of course, the other writers balked. Heming-

way told each of them to put ten dollars in the middle of the table; if he was wrong, he said, he’d match it. If he was right, he would keep the entire pot. He quickly wrote six words down on a napkin and passed it around; Papa won the bet. The words were “FOR SALE, BABY SHOES, NEVER WORN.” A beginning, a middle and an end!”

--Arthur C. Clarke I then challenged my students to write their own short, short stories.

Below you will find a few examples of what they produced.

Matthew Isom, English teacher

He tried to balance the world, but it always came out lopsided.

Kellie Stellmach Grade 10

He could love, just not her.

Hayli Mcfarland Grade 9

The photograph bore signs of persistent attempts to enter the second dimension.

Kellie Stellmach Grade 10

I saw the sun today for the first time. Beauty blinds.

Kaitlyn Clawson Grade 10

He spread the word of god for $10,000 a month.

Kellie Stellmach Grade 10 Ripped clothes, dirty skin, rotten food, and a frown full of hope.

Jorge Ruiz Grade 10

“The NSA will never find us here!” *Door breaks down* Nathan Camuso Grade 10

His head cracked on the sidewalk.

No one heard.

Kaitlyn Clawson Grade 10 You can be anything you want to be, no dream is too big, no step is too small. Take a leap of faith.

Macie Ruble Grade 10 Long distance relationships: miles between, but no one closer.

Kaylene Abraham Grade 10

Alone, ripped away, but never forgotten.

Cheyenne Ward Grade 10

Stay strong, and smile on.

Miriah DeBoer Grade 10 I pass a man with a smile and determined to step.

Isaac Morris Grade 10 Hospital, life, first cry.

Miranda Rogers Grade 10 You leaned against me. For a better look at her.

Hayli Mcfarland Grade 9 The photograph bore signs of persistent attempts to enter the second dimension.

Kellie Stellmach Grade 10 We all sound the same, under water.

Hayli Mcfarland Grade 9 In the rain, no one could see the tears on the gravestone.

Kaitlyn Clawson Grade 10

The Wait

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inutes, hours, days, they all trickle by. I am near her always, but she doesn’t feel me. Her face, her smile, her tone, everything about her is hollow. She was wiped away the moment my heartbeat ceased, now I watch

her shell, praying that she comes back. Maybe then, I could leave.

Faded beauty that she is, I love her still. She has an empty peace about her, knowing how close the end is, accepting it, but fearing it still. I touch her

wrinkled hand with my translucent, perfectly young one, and she doesn’t stir. She never does. I watch the machine’s sporadic, jumping line that tracks her heartbeat. Then, finally, it is a flat line, a green horizon against the black screen.

I look back at her as the woman I love finally emerges from her cocoon. Her face is no longer marred with indents and folds, she is no longer weighed down by years of loneliness.

She is free, and so am I.

Kayla Rigsby Grade 12

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Photography Chance Crockett Grade 11

Looking Up at the Light Macie Ruble Grade 10

Chloe Curtis Grade 11

Freedom

Macie Ruble Grade 10

My Vacation Spot in Mexico Elizabeth Perez-Quintero Grade 11

Chloe Curtis Grade 11