Teen Writing and Art Showcase - Summer 2016

summer

TEEN WRITING & ART SHOWCASE

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We hope you enjoy reading Gail Borden’s fourth Teen Writing and Art Showcase! This issue includes submissions from twenty-four students. We have published entries exactly as they were submitted.

For information about how to submit work for publication in a future showcase, please visit www.gailborden.info/teenwriting.

We want to see your amazing creations!

Table of Contents 1

Ethan Shaw (Grade 9, Homeschool) – C (DIGITAL SOFTWARE – ADOBE PHOTOSHOP CS6)

12 Asiyah Mardiyyah Arastu (Grade 8, Larsen Middle School) – An Unexpected Gift (POETRY)

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Emily Neuman (Grade 11, Homeschool) – Untitled (ACRYLICS ON CANVAS)

13 Jenna McKee (Grade 7, Abbott Middle School) – Patrick Stump (COLORED PENCILS)

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Sara Dickey (Grade 7, Larsen Middle School) – Glisten (FICTION)

14 Samantha Harville (Grade 11, Burlington Central HS) – The Gleam (NARRATIVE FICTION)

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Taylor Majer (Grade 6, Trinity Lutheran School) – Breaking Dawn

15 Rebecca Rickert (Grade 10, Rickert Homeschool) – Nature’s Conundrum (PEN AND INK)

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Stephanie Ramirez (Grade 8, Kenyon Woods MS) – Blue Exorcist Characters (PENCIL)

16 Isabella Axtell (Grade 9, Central HS) – Little Angel (PENCILS)

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Claudia Robles (Grade 8, Kimball MS) and Jacki Hernandez (Grade 8, Kimball MS) – Behind the Shadows (COMIC)

17 Marlan Renard Smith (Grade 7, Summit School) – Brian (PENCIL AND MARKERS)

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Hannah Lee (Grade 8, Homeschool) – Valentine Dance (COLORED PENCILS, BLACK PEN)

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Jessica Snyder (Grade 6, Homeschool) – Finn (DIGITAL SOFTWARE)

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Vincent Chiapetta (Grade 6, Lincoln Elementary) – Corn Chip on a Cow (COMIC)

10 Minahil Rahimullah (Grade 6, Homeschool) and Alina Fasihi (Grade 6, Cambridge Lakes Charter School) – Drifting (COMIC)

17 Ailish Seibert (Grade 6, Fox Meadow) – Lily (PENCIL AND MARKER) 18 Emily Miller (Grade 6, Willard Elementary) – Duck Life (COLORED PENCILS, MARKERS) 19 Maria Gudino (Grade 7, Jane Addams Junior High) – Don’t mess with these games… (FICTION) 20 Haruto Miragiri (Grade 9, Burlington Central HS) – Tobe (Fly) (COPIC SKETCH MARKERS AND FABELL CASTELL WATERCOLOR PENCILS)

11 Andrew R. Mitchell (Grade 9, South Elgin HS) and Leslie Pozezinski (Grade 8, Homeschool)– Into the Mirror (COMIC)

FRONT COVER

Back Cover

C

TOBE (FLY)

ETHAN SHAW 2

haruto miragiri

UNTITLED

EMILY nEUMAN

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GLISTEN

sara dickey

Footprints whispered as they went along.

Going through the woods, winding between trees, under bushes, and making their way through the night. The moon cast an eerie shadow over the snow glistened ground through the treetops, winter bare. The snow wasn’t the only thing on the ground, under the thin layer of sparkling white was ice. Slippery, shining, almost invisible as it was, it was more beautiful than anything. As feet padded snow into their shape the moon made the whole print glow as the light was reflected in the surface of the ice.

The wind made the trees sway and branches curve, but there was only one sound to be heard.

A scream…

Faded like clouds in the summer. That’s where I found you lying. Your eyes bright, but your heart slow. So calm but so panicked. Ice shattered like glass around you. Your curly brown hair caught by every candy-appled breeze. The sweet, cold winter air turning your cheeks rosy and your nose a strawberry. I notice all these things standing over you. At first glance you are beautiful. The calmness of the silence lingers for a moment and replaced by panic for the future the next. I wish I could tell you these things that go through my head. I can’t. I’ve written a thousand poems I wish I could say. I can’t. All these wishes. All these cant’s. Why must we be in this position now?

This happened so fast. Time seems to have sped up to normal as I run over screaming-“Serafina!!”

You aren’t hurt. Stunned, afraid, in pain, but not a cut or scrape to be found. Bruised, but alive. “Are you ok? What happened?” I stroke your hair back out of your face. I wonder what’s going on in that mind of yours. “I-I don’t know. I heard something and then I fell and it was night

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and now I’m here and you’re there and I don’t know what’s happening” you respond, your words jumbled, you are shaking, trembling.

Either with fear or cold, I don’t know. “Come on, we need to get far away from here”. I grab my beaten up bag, filled with things of all sorts. A camera, clothes, food, water, some leaves that looked cool, old pieces of metal. Things you’d never think to bring along that just might come in handy, or things you always bring that go to waste. The soft black cotton rests on my shoulder as I help you up. I bend down and grab a chunk of ice and hold it up to the sun. The beams catch it and light twirls in every direction.

I throw it back down, grab your hand and run.

Past trees, through bushes, following the breeze as if we and the wind are one. When we are out of breath I drop my bag and we lay down staring at the sun. That is the last thing I remember.

Before we were captured…

The troops came as we laid there, as we forgot about everything. All we knew was each other and the blinding beams of light. We didn’t know they were here until the sound of their footsteps were right above us and there were tracks of footprints all the way through the forest. I don’t know what happens next. All I know is that we are here now and I don’t know where you are. But I will find you. I promise.

Nature has always intrigued me. The green, the blue, how every color is in nature. It surrounds us. And every time we step outside, we are swallowed by its presence. It has always seemed to engulf me in its entirety. When I’m inside, I envied everyone outside. But nothing like this has ever happened before. I was let out of my cell to wander around. They knew I couldn’t go anywhere because their security levels are through the roof. But I was wandering and looking for you when I stopped. My eyesight went black. I stood straight. Nothing would happen, I felt good, almost safe. As soon as I saw it, it was beautiful. It was the place you laid. With the ice shattered but you weren’t there. We had run away already. But there was

something different about the ice. It wasn’t ice at all. It was glass. Shattered glass now sat in shards on a wooden floor. A hole in the window and a single drop. Red like blood, but clear like water at the same time. It materialized into another shard but it was bigger. It showed the snow again. The snow in the forest. But it wasn’t over. A sickening thud and ice shattered.

There you were. Fallen helpless into a pit of ice.

But you kept falling. Into nothingness…

My vision comes back and I’m stunned. Is this a onetime thing or will it happen often? I’m not sure. All I know is that I made a promise to find you, and that’s what I’ll do. I continue down hallways and corridors. I don’t know why we are

here, but I will myself to stay calm. I have to. If I don’t, I freak out. Freaking out is the worst thing to do right now. I try to clear my mind but all I see is the ice and you falling into it. Shards flying up as you keep falling down into nothing. But when you fall, your face is calm. As though you knew it was going to happen and you weren’t scared. As if you were going to sleep after a long day. Your face never changes, it stay the same calm expression the whole time you fall. That’s what amazes me more than the vision. I can’t get it to stop playing in my head. It’s as though the black wall has been transformed into this video or somehow memory of you. I scream, and hear nothing…

NATURE’S CONUNDRUM rebecca rickert

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BLUE EXORCIST CHARACTERS sTEPHANIE rAMIREZ

BEHIND THE SHADOWS

CLAUDIA ROBLES AND JACKI HERNANDEZ

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VALENTINE DANCE HANNAH LEE

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FINN

JESSICA SNYDER

CORN CHIP ON A COW VINCENT CHIAPETTA

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DRIFTING

MINAHIL RAHIMULLAH AND ALINA FASIHI

INTO THE MIRROR

ANDREW R. MITCHELL AND LESLIE POZEZINSKI

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AN UNEXPECTED GIFT

asiyah mardiyyah arastu

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Based on the short film “The Other Pair” directed by Sarah Rozik

He followed the boy’s shoes through the crowd, Envy etched on his face.

Again the boy stopped and bent down Wiping his shoes in haste.

A lone young boy meandered among The clamoring crowd as it bustled by.

Dust rose in clouds from the sandy streets.

The sun blazed from its perch in the sky.

Jawad looked on at the gleaming shoes, Entranced by what he could not afford.

They were so shiny, he wistfully thought, Why polish them even more?

Jawad glanced down at his tattered shoes, Which bore the signs of wear and tear.

Weatherworn and falling apart, Decrepit, in desperate need of repair.

A clanging bell announced The arrival of the train.

The boy crouched down one last time To buff his spotless shoes again.

He pulled aside from the hustling crowd, Seeking some rest in the soothing shade, Then tried to mend his ruined shoes, To see if they could be remade.

But as he climbed to step inside, He stumbled and fell on the floor.

His shoe came loose, slipped off his foot, And tumbled out the door.

His mind blurred with frustration As again and again he tried.

But all his efforts were in vain.

He tossed them away and sighed.

Jawad leapt to his feet and ran full speed Towards the fallen shoe.

He knelt beside it, lifting it up, Debating what to do.

With a tear-glazed face he gazed about, Eyes straying to people’s shoes.

Their soles were sound, their uppers strong.

He wished his were like that too.

The train began to slowly inch Along the rusty tracks.

Puffs of smoke billowed from The dusty, tall smokestacks.

Then his gaze fell upon one pair An embodiment of his most wishful dreams: Rich and glossy, smooth and sleek, Flawless leather, unfrayed seams.

Eyes fixed on Jawad from the door of the train, The boy felt sad and downcast.

Jawad watched the boy, holding the shoe, And made his decision at last.

They were worn by a young boy, just like him, Dressed in crisp new pants and shirt.

With every few strides, he stooped with a cloth To dust his shoes of specks of dirt.

He dashed towards the troubled boy As the train gathered speed.

It slid further and further away.

Jawad clearly could not succeed.

Jawad froze and gaped in awe, And as he gawked, he thought, If only I had shoes like those!

These old ones are all I’ve got.

Finally, out of desperation, Jawad hurled the shoe at the boy, Hoping against hope he would catch it.

But his hopes were all destroyed.

The shoe spun in a graceful arch, Then hurtled to the ground.

The plan had failed; the shoe was lost.

The train would not turn around.

The boy grinned broadly, smiled and waved.

He felt no remorse or regret.

He had made his loss into a gain, A pleasure he would not soon forget.

Jawad groaned in dismay.

The boy’s gaze was forlorn.

The loss devastated them both.

The boy felt crushed and torn.

Jawad waved back, trying on his new shoes, A reward for his attempted good deed.

He mouthed his thanks, heard by none but God, Who through grace had fulfilled his need.

He had cherished his new shoes And had cleaned them with such care.

Losing one so soon Was an awful blow to bear.

Time was running out.

There was nothing they could do.

The train steadily chugged on, Heedless of the lonely shoe.

But as hopelessness engulfed them, And it seemed that all was lost, A sudden idea struck the young boy, But he did not know at what cost.

There was no time to weigh his options.

There was no time to wonder “how?”

If he was to try to do anything, He would have to act now.

He wrenched off the other shoe And flung it with all his might.

It sailed through the air, toward Jawad, Glinting in the light.

Jawad watched in bewilderment.

Was it something bad or good?

Was the boy acting out of anger?

Then Jawad understood.

He darted forward to retrieve the pair, And fingered the soft leather.

The boy could no longer use the shoes, But Jawad would treasure them forever.

PATRICK STUMP JENNA MCKEE

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THE GLEAM

SAMANTHA HARVILLE

Introduction: Who says fairy tales are only for children? For those of you who think that they know the classic story of Little Red Riding Hood, you’re in for a big surprise…

A resounding crunch echoed across the misty clearing. Red winced and peeled a browning maple leaf off the bottom of her damp boot. The air was cold, and her breath spiraled upwards to mingle with the naked trees, interlocked in a sort of archway. The woods had donned its sinister evening cloak, and the insects had begun their rhythmic chorus. Her hand felt frozen around the wicker basket, loosely swinging at her side. Red was on the last leg of her journey to her widowed grandmother’s home, glad that she knew the path by heart, because her vision extended no more than a couple yards. At last, her quivering fingers grasped a sturdy post. The rope bridge.

She was almost there.

Red drew her hood about her to shield herself from the wind. Careful not to lose her footing, she advanced with one hand on the railing as the planks swayed gently. One step.

Two. The boards creaked dangerously.

Suddenly, the bridge pitched violently.

Vibrations traveled all the way up her legs.

Gasping, she whipped around, her cape snapping briskly. Blood rushed in her ears, and her throat went bone dry. A fine string of spit made its way onto her blue lips. As her pupils dilated, Red reeled backwards in shock.

Nothing. Not a single soul. Her flowing garments became suffocating, and she forced herself to take another tentative step. The sound was not at all the familiar groan of wood.

Red instantly focused upon a nearby mulberry bush. Two blazing silver lights peered

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back. Wasting no time, the form sprung out of the foliage with incredible speed to land in front of her. She emitted a shriek, but didn’t get much farther. A meaty paw clamped across the entire lower half of her face, cutting her short.

Violently twisting her around to face her fear in a sort of forced hug, the figure spoke at last. Red kicked and swung, but her struggle was to no avail. Finally going limp, her eyes slowly traveled up the bristly black body. It was alive with muscle. The broad chest that she was pressed against heaved with heavy breathing, and something like a deep chuckle. The pointed ears were completely upright, framing a bone-chilling grin armed with white razors. His eyes bore into her like beacons.

“Young ladies like you don’t go around at this time of night. Where are you headed?”

“You are obviously not interested in the basket. Let me go.”

He threw back his head and laughed heartily. With a guttural growl, he tightened his already inescapable hold. The unmistakable scent of blood was on his hot breath. Red pulled her head back as far as she was able, straining her neck. An amused smirk crossed his face, displaying once again the gleaming daggers that dominated his cavernous mouth.

“A woman with spirit. I’m impressed.

But, you still didn’t answer my question.”

Unbeknownst to herself, Red’s eyes darted to the distant lanterns that marked her ailing grandmother’s residence. Only for a second. But that was enough for the predator.

“Ah yes, the old hag. I’ve been waiting for her to leave the cottage, but all she does is lay in bed. You should tell her you’re going to be late.

Or better yet, maybe I’ll take those for you…”

Red’s eyes lit up, burning with rage.

Finding her strength at last, she delivered a swift upward kick. The beast howled in pain, releasing his death clench. Red turned and ran, her lungs raw as she gulped the frigid air. The mahogany door of the house became visible. All at once, Red was thrown to the ground, and she

heard a tremendous ripping noise. White hot pain crossed her back. As she scrambled to her feet, haunting laughter rang across the forest.

Red couldn’t possibly imagine what was so funny. The wind snapped her tattered cape around her as she finally stood at the door, panting. She couldn’t seem to stop the deep, husky breaths. The moon was full and bright,

casting the woods in a silvery glow. Somehow, she knew that the chase was over. The night no longer seemed so cold or unwelcoming. As she was about to knock upon the seemingly miniature door, she paused, fist in the air. Red allowed herself to smile triumphantly, moonbeams glinting off her canines.

BREAKING DAWN TAYLOR Majer

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LITTLE ANGEL

ISABELLA AXTELL 16

BRIAN

MARLAND RENARD SMITH

LILY

Ailish seibert 17

DUCK LIFE 18

EMILY MILLER

DON’T MESS WITH THESE GAMES... maria gudino

I know what you were expecting to see. “It was a dark and gloomy night.” Pfft, what a cliché starter. But, it was night. And it was dark, but I enjoyed the dark. So did my friend Aaliyah, but...We were also the weird type that liked to mess with Ouija boards and Bloody Mary, we played games we found on a website called: scaryforkids.com. From games from centuries ago to Charlie Charlie, it was all there. We did play a game where we find out how we die. A dark game, but not as dark a one game. Red door, Yellow door...I can still hear myself chanting it, I can still feel my fingers massaging her temple, and her head in my lap as her arms stood up straight. It was a Saturday night, me and Aaliyah were hyper on sugar her parents out in the town.

A typical night with us two. I was checking my Tumblr, laughing at all the funny Supernatural GIF’s. I heard a laugh from my friend, “Dude, I just found this awesome game we can play!” I crawled over excitement taking over me. “What did you find?” She smirked at me, “Red door, Yellow door. Weird.” “What’s so weird about it?”

I asked in confusion. She shook her head, “There’s no comments on this whole thing. The writer’s even anonymous.” I wanted to laugh, as if that’s going to scare me. “Let’s play.” She nodded, “I’ll go first.” I read the instructions out loud, “Lay in a friend’s lap, and put your arms up straight in front of you.Make sure your eyes are closed. Have the friend massage your temples while chanting, ‘Red door, yellow door any other color door.’ Until your friend can see a room full of doors,ask them- Oh whatever.Let’s just play.” I left the computer abandoned and proceeded to grab a pillow, “Lay down.” She obeyed and laid down and followed my earlier commands. I started to massage her temples and started the ominous chant, ‘Red door yellow door any other color door, red door yellow door any other color door, red door yellow door any other color door, red door yellow door any other door.” Aaliyah started to breathe heavily. “ I see some doors. I laughed, “How many?” She sighed, “Eight. They’re different colors.” “Tell me the colors.” “Red, blue,

black, grey, yellow, green, white, and pink.” I gagged, I hate pink. “Avoid the bright colors, go through the red door.” I waited, until she told me what she was seeing. “I’m in a classroom. It’s bright, and there’s children in the room.” I groaned, “Boring!Get out and go into the grey room.” I waited patiently as she internally closed a door. It was strange, she could be lying, but...What was there to lie for? “I went throught the door.” She claimed as she broke through the silence like a knife. I nudged her head, and she nodded. Two minutes had past, and she stood still. “Maria, there’s a woman. In a white dress.

She looks like…” She groaned, “Sorry, I can’t remember who she looks like.” “It’s ok.” I said, my fingers still massaging her temples. “Now go through the black door.” She sucked in a breath and her body trembled. I paid no mind to it, and waited. I was getting ready to ask her what she say when she had quickly said, “Wake me up.

Please.” I raised an eyebrow. “Why?” Her body jerked, and I dropped her head on the floor. She woke up, “What did you see?!” I asked loudly, worry filling my words. “The woman in a white dress, I saw her again. But this time, she was holding my dad’s pocket knife. Why did she have it? But she still looks really familiar.” She went to her bed, “I’m going to bed, grab a nightgown from my closet. There’s a white one that was my Aunt’s, you can use it. I had changed into a gown and saw it went below my knees. ‘Honestly.’ I thought, can she have any bigger clothing? She was five feet at most. I walked into the living room seeing something that looked like my phone. And picked it up. I staggered into the room and saw my friend, sleeping soundly. ‘Like a baby’. I thought and held in a laugh. But as I looked in the mirror, I saw myself. I never really see myself in the dark with a mirror in front of me,especially in a dress. But as I looked at the object in my hand, I saw a small pocket knife. And I looked to my left where Aaliyah was, and there she was holding a phone and a knife.

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