Special Thanks To: Jessica DiFalco, Cyndy Jean, Richard Robinson, School Printing, Brad Walters Faculty Support: Sarah Coble, Sousan Hammad, Jennifer Louros, Oshon Temple Faculty Advisors: Monica Carrier and Ellen Ferguson
. ‘23 Julia Magliato ‘23
The Arrow Hackley Middle School Literary Magazine 2019 Cover art: Ellie Karger ‘26 . ‘26
. ‘24 Cydnee Copeland ‘24
An Ode to Spring Annie Sheikh ’26 . A petal in the wind Waving all around The water in the creek Swirling round and round The grass in the meadow Swaying side to side Leaves in the wind Like birds in the sky Colors of the rainbow Shining bright and fair Flowers in the field Waving their bright hair And all around I think, I see And all around I see spring
. Alessia Sorvillo ‘25
A Fish Lived in a Tree: A Limerick ______________________________________________________________ . Beckett Johnson ‘24
A fish lived in a tree Everyone called him Pea When others saw his tail up high They wondered how he did not die But Pea flew away with the bees
Kylie Oh. ‘24
Snow Un-Fun ______________________________________________________________________________ DD Qin . ‘25
A foot of fluffy, white snow Almost blinding to the eye I’m on the foot of a huge hill, It feels like it’s as tall as Mt. Everest The smell of gasoline and a rumbling noise Coming from a passing snowplow I’m more excited as than could possibly be I drag my yellow sled and trudge to the top Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I step tentatively into the sled The moment of truth, I push myself off As I go down, I feel like I’m a cheetah. I go faster and faster and faster… Coming into my sight, I see a snowman. In the blink of an eye, I crash into it. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! I realize I wasn’t paying attention when I decided to go. My head is just stuck into the snowman and the cold, wet, snow comes in. My face is all red like a tomato with embarrassment and a bunch of people close by are pointing and laughing. I knew this wasn’t a good idea. As I pick up my sled and head home, I thought, This really was some snow un-fun.
. Ellie Karger ‘26
I Once Took a Trip to Europe _____________________________________________________________________________
. Sofia Malhas ’24
I once took a trip to Europe They were lacking in maple syrup The sheep were white Fluffy in the light The mountains reaching all the way u p
. Jake Nadol ‘26
Response to Maniac Magee _________________________________________________________ . Jiya Dhakad ’26 I have read the novel Maniac Magee with my 5th grade English class in the past couple of months. This is my exposition to a sequel. Dear Son, You have now made it to 728 Sycamore Street; my old home for quite a while. I have moved away with the Beales, the only family I really ever had. Well, I just wanted to tell you that. Whether you are reading this at night, day, before lunch or after, with your sister or not, I hope I have informed, not worried, you of my leaving. I hope you have a great life on Sycamore Street, as I did, and meet many new friends. Signed, Maniac Magee Who is this Maniac Magee? Seemed like a big guy around Two Mills, I thought. This letter is definitely not meant for me. I walked over to my nightstand and laid down the letter there. I was not really going to come back to it, but my brain wanted me to. My mother and I were staying in Two Mills for the summer, and luckily we found a rental house with a fair amount of history. The walls were rusty, the floorboards were popping out, and I could hear the sink water trickling down the old and broken countertops. Drip Drip Drip.
The first day we got here, I took a walk around the place. I saw secret pathways, secret doors, and cutouts in many walls. I found many things; things that seemed to be hiding from the eye. Old sneakers, a hat, some framed photos, a baseball glove, some books that looked to be from a local library, and most importantly, some old clothes, typically for a boy. When I searched up this Maniac Magee person, I could not believe what I have found.
. Guilia Sorvillo ‘25
Yesterday We Had to do a Lot of Court Sprints: A Haibun ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Charlotte Feehan ‘24 .
Yesterday we had to do a lot of court sprints during tennis practice. They made me really tired. Now my muscles ache a lot and it hurts to laugh. Ripples of wind fly Through petals of young flowers They float gently down
Enya Walah ‘24 .
The Powerful March ______________________________________________________________________________
. Suka Nwiido ‘25 This morning, when I had risen, a deep abyss of fear had settled in the pit of my stomach. Today was the protest, the day when we would march in the streets for our own women’s rights. Even though I knew this was the right choice, I couldn’t help but feel a seed of doubt and skepticism about my future actions. After five minutes of hard contemplating my rebellious behavior, I quickly shook those thoughts out of my head. “This isn’t just for you, it’s for women in the future who would have to fight themselves if we don’t,” I muttered. I couldn’t bear sentencing a future generation to the suffering that is happening now. I finally aspired to get out of bed and get ready for today’s events. I waddled over to the window, still groggy from the sleep in my eyes. Then, I stood straight and looked myself in the mirror. I hate looking in the mirror. It reminds me of the women who want to keep being subservient to their husbands, not giving a second thought to their great granddaughters who might actually want the right to vote. Well I, Rebecca Black will never. After snapping out of my feminist trance, I quickly did the bare minimum to get ready and pulled on a demure, yet elegant royal purple dress from my closet. Then I zoomed out of my house to get to the department store. I was a department store clerk in the biggest department store in New York City. I entered the store with a neutral expression on my face and was greeted by the small, timid owner of the store. This was going to be a long day. After my long and tiresome shift, I swiftly headed home and dressed in our planned outfit for the protest. A long, itchy, wool white dress stuck out of my colorful closet and I grabbed it and put it on. When I arrived at the protest, I already saw the spiteful reactions of many people, mostly women. I quickly seized a sign and started marching down the street, yelling “equal rights for women!” at the top of our lungs. The crowd quickly uproared at our clamors and grew furious at us. Many of the women marching felt very fearful for the females around them, and for themselves. Nevertheless, we kept marching, pushing all terrors to the back of our minds. After what felt like an eternity, the march ended and the crowd had died down after a while. I dashed home, put on my nightwear, and quickly got ready for bed. As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but feel disappointment in myself and in society for the density they couldn’t seem to shake and accept people for what they really are.
Daniel Shola-Phillips ‘23 .
An excerpt from Croissants and Disagreements . Rowan Pedraza ‘24 ALEX (Stands up) This is ridiculous. I just don’t understand. All I ever said was that I’m not better than you just because I got in and you didn’t. I’m being totally gracious to you, but you’re just too stubborn in believing that there is any way that I did something that you didn’t. I don’t think I can stand this. I worked every second I could on preparation, and I actually achieved something great. I got into the Curtis Institute of Music! You shouldn’t let things go to your head. Just because you’re more accomplished than me doesn’t mean that you are better by default. You know what they say: Hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard. And you decided that you were just going to pretend that there was no way in the world that I could ever do something that you didn’t. I’ve lived under your shadow for my entire life. The one time I’ve ever done better than you, you still don’t accept it. Even after I was nice and gracious to you. I don’t understand. I think I will be better off without you. DANIEL (Stands up) Fine! See how you do without me! ALEX (Pushes his chair in) I will! (Strides out of the room. DANIEL (Sits down with shock as he watches him leave. The door slams and the lights fade to nothing as Daniel puts his head in his hands.)
. Harper Kelsey ‘24
I Am an Apple _________________________________________________ . Juno Yang ‘26
I am an apple. A worm bites through me and I die. I am an orange. My skin is peeled off and I die. I am a lemon. My innards are squeezed out and I die. I am a kiwi. I am sliced in half and I die. I am a blue raspberry. I am crushed and I die. I am a blueberry. A thumb squishes me and I die. I am a grape. My heart is pulled out and I die for the final time.
. Lucia Butterfield ‘25
Grayscale _________________________________________ . Afsana Dhali ‘23 Complicated That’s how you describe things Complicated With all your colors Mixing together Screaming at each other It’s confusing It’s all confusing Loud, bright colors Each telling me to change Each telling me to be something I’m not. It’s loud It’s too much It needs to stop Stop Stop Stop It hurts Hurts my head My head My head throbs Why can’t you just simplify things? Black and white? Right and wrong? I peer out at you Ruining the pristine world From my black and white mask. To me You are just The gray area In between; Confused Unable to make up your mind. Black and white White and black Black or white? I lost track.
. Cam Greenberg ‘24
Seen ___________________________________________ Suka Nwiido ’25 . Monkey see, monkey do You don’t see me, I see you
I scream, you watch, never hearing a sound You laugh in your phone, my sanity crumbles as I fall to the floor
You love yourself, I destroy myself You stare at my glass, a barrier between and my existence and your sanity
Your makeup is your shield, you perfect you shield through me My tears are as constant as your life, moving, feeling, betraying
I tear my hair out, you curl it to supremacy Alone, my walls are like reflections
Reminders of the life I am restricted to The cycle of my stability breaking
Me, Me, tears, screams, shards in a never-ending cycle Then it stops, I see the broken pieces, scattered on the stone-cold wood
A shard is what I become, what I’ve been confined to From now, to eternity
Monkey see, monkey do Monkey screams his lungs out too
I am cursed, broken down Forever alone, no life to live
I sink forever in my prison No more strength to be given
But yet again, the cycle starts And with it goes, a piece of my heart
Akshi Khowala ‘23 .
Dreams: Catbird Cry __________________________________________________ . Aniketh Arvind ’24 “…awakened in the near dark” — John Steinbeck I flutter up the branches to my nest A bed of twigs longing to be slept on and used My palmated toes slide in, under the cold blanket of the breeze As a mirror that fogs under a warm shower my thoughts drift away like the willowy petals of a dandelion blowing in the wind Minutes turn into measured breath and all that is left is a dream. At the foothills of that dream My conscience leaves the nest, as I gracefully float through the wind. The dark washes over and I tremble down, for my catbird-feathers have been used. As the ominous clouds threaten, my home is cleansed by a beautiful rainshower Yet my thoughts are as calm as a cool, summer breeze I look down to see my gigantic shadow as I glide in the breeze This is no longer just a fantasy, it’s bigger and better than just a dream Now as a soaring eagle my vicious thoughts come in a deluge of shower. I seek an innocent prey hiding its fledgling in its nest. A life is used. I greedily sail away in the wind. As I scan the terra firma below, my steely eyes cut through the wind. Smugly I watch my many preys (hearing me come) scattering like a breeze. Their little paws are used, a nightmare to them is for me a sweet dream They are too slow to make it back to their nest, my talons – weapons for a blood-shower My frightened eyes spring open at the imagery of the blood-shower What has died is nothing but the wind All is intact in the nest For all that engulfs me is the gentle breeze. Was my nightmare thankfully was just a dream? Or were my nerves used? Steel or nerves used? blood-shower or rain-shower? nightmare or dream? gust or wind? death or life in a breeze? warm hearth or cold nest? Life is not used and benign is the wind. A warm spring shower welcomes flowers a-fluttering in the breeze. This is the dream from the comfort of a nest.
. . Kareena Parasnis ‘26 and Fiona Pedraza ‘26
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I was Born on a 4 Square Foot Houseboat ________________________________________________________________________
. Fiona Pedraza ‘26
I was born on a 4 square foot houseboat off the coast of Java I grew up on the foothills of Cambodia
I was born all grown up My mother had a braid as long as her memory She wrapped me in her hair, cut it off, and died. Her hair was healing It gave me death So I could live
. Charlotte Feehan ‘24
Under Our Dark Watchful Eye ________________________________________________________ . Abigail Nager ’26
Under our dark watchful eye Trays of steamin’ smoky ribs Mac n’ cheese, fresh cornbread Shiver gleefully as they’re Snatched up greedily We wait… and wait… and wait… And with a brisk click! and pop!
We flicker into being.
. Calliope Yannuzzi ‘26
There I Sit a Small Rotting _____________________________________________________________________________
. Fox Quattrone ‘25 From inside an uncleanly shack in the small town of Utrecht, there I sit a small rotting moldy chair. A family lives here too. They are very poor but get just enough to scrape by. Every day I see them praying for the lord to please help them, although silent I pray for them as well in my head. This particular morning I hear shrieks from the young girl, Edith’s bed. The father jumps and rushes over to find his girl unable to breathe, coughing, and sweating. The truth is too obvious. The older son had already gone to work a few hours earlier but is very worried when he comes home. Is it tuberculosis? Will she live? I was expecting death from the moment I heard a first cough. The father was up all night mourning for the daughter, and underneath his somewhat hopeful prayers, he knew the truth of it. She gets more and more ill, as the weeks go by. Now she has stopped eating, and falls asleep for most of the day. During the night she experiences terrifying sweats, she overheats, and becomes very frail. The entire family is like a house with no roof, they take on anything that comes. A few months pass, and she is barely surviving. The brother has fell ill as well, and not soon before the father does. About three months after she felt sick, she dies. She gets carried into her grave by her weak, old father. Both cannot mourn for long, because the father and brother die the next day. The father sitting on me, the son on the bedroom floor. No one visits the house again, it is my guess that the whole village got wiped away by the disease. I still sit there rotting away seeing the house burn away, from the drought. Bugs, rats, and the family cats scurry everywhere trying to leave, but it is to late. Everyone has gone, and we must all feel this great morning as we pray for the future generations to have more happy, safe, and joyful lives. I hope this for the future, as my legs start turning into coal, and my remaining body roars with the hot flames.
. Amy Kliatchko ‘23
Why Weren’t There Tacos Today? _________________________________________________________ . Aiden Wasserman ‘24
Why weren’t there tacos today? It would make everyone happy. After a hard day a treat is good.
They sit in the dark. Everyone passes by Alone from all touch.
. Sam Sanders ‘24
I Am From ______________________________________________________________________ . David Lefkovits ‘26 I am from a tennis racquet, From Hackley School and New York City. I am from the long, quiet, happy, and fun street. It looked like smiling and playing. I am from a tree and water. The hardwood of the tree. I’m from an athletic and fast family. From “You are going to be incredible!” and “You can do it!’ I’m from the Torah, The Ten Commandments. I’m from New York City. From Challah and Matzah. From the shaders with my family to find the Afikomen with my brother, to tennis courts. I am from the best place in the universe!
. Sydney Morris ‘26
12 Angry Tigers _____________________________________________________________________________ . ‘25 ’25 and Sasha Haider . ‘25 ‘25 Rafael Castro
Daniel Tiger found himself running towards a shifty package that his good friend Clifford left him, when the box exploded! “Try picking up Speed…” said a mysterious voice. Daniel knew who it was. He turned around and faced the snarling face of his nemesis. Daniel drew a deep breath and launched himself at – But she escaped into a group of jurors.
The only way to find and stop her was to go undercover. He took a breath and entered.
. . Evan Jones ‘24 with Beckett Johnson ‘24
The Goods and Bads of Winter ______________________________________________________________________________ . Max Neidhardt ’25
The first day the snow fell, I thought of everyone that would soon be ringing bells, But I also thought of what wouldn’t go well, Snow days, joys of sledding, But it feels like as early as morning the Sun is always setting… As I was walking that day, Everyone was wearing gloves of wool, Complaining about this and that in every which way, But I was not complaining, I thought the snow was cool, And was a refreshment from the dullness of my normal day at school And although there was no more swimming in pools, I thought that winter was a jewel
. Travis Knaggs ‘24
Sestina: The Meaning of Life in Terms of Death ______________________________________________________________________________________ . Cole Silpe ’24 When asking ourselves What is the meaning of life One must ask What is the meaning of death As the notion of living Will only succumb to the notion of dying We as people fear dying But are we really being truthful with ourselves Of course, many enjoy living But should the definition of living go hand in hand with life Wouldn’t being free from stress and burden ease the thought death A question of the unknown is always difficult to answer and possibly even harder to ask In order to answer, one must ask In order to live, one must confront the thought of dying Life has always been considered the opposite of death But in reality, death is as close to life as we are to ourselves As death is simply the absence of life Much like the way, there wouldn’t be light without dark, there wouldn’t be death without living Throughout life, you are living But that leads you to ask If death is the opposite of life Then does that mean that throughout death you are dying There is turmoil brewing inside ourselves As we connect the dreaded thought of dying with the welcoming notion of living Everyone portrays and envisions their own completely different and original idea of death This idea evolves throughout the time that you are living Whether we know it or not this portrayal is embedded deep inside ourselves An impossible question to ask Is, why does every living thing have to go through the process of dying Science may have the answer but only a true human being can unlock the meaning of life Will life Unlock the secret of death Or will dying Reveal the key to living This is what we must ask Ourselves Because dying is the inevitable end to life How can we relieve ourselves from imminent death We don’t have an answer, but why are we living, is what one is obligated to ask.
. Justin D’Alessio ‘26
The Shadow Boxes . Cydnee Copeland ‘24 “Have I nothing better to do than cure insect bites for ‘little Indians’? I am a doctor not a veterinary.” - - John Steinbeck You open The box And shove me inside You act like we’re all the same I won’t fit and I don’t fit This is who I am now How would you even know who I am? For once try to have an open Mind and learn that not everyone nor everything will fit Into a standard sized box We are all unique and none of us are exactly the same What's on the outside doesn't determine the inside Have you ever taken the time to look on the inside Use this time now To look. Are we the same? We try to open The doors to your minds, but you close them off and ship our feelings away in a box In which we can’t fit You must not work out or stimulate your brain because it is not fit Enough to tell you that not all people of one race religion or ethnicity are the same Dumb poor, rich, different are just some of your favorite boxes To blindly sort us into right now It's just a game to you but to me it finally opens My eyes to this cruel world that will always be the same Take a step in one of our shoes and see if it feels the same I promise it won't be a perfect fit The pain you cause us inside is like lemon juice dripping on an open Eye and flowing throughout making you feel sour inside We watch as you now Compressor us and our friends to fit in this typical box One day there will be no such thing as a box We can be free to be ourselves and not always thought of as the same The time is now For change to come as long as we see fit Sit down stay awhile and look inside The key to kindness is being open Watch now as each box Has opened and dumped out its contents the opposite and yet same The same way they all were first put inside
. Zora Blu’ Teacher ‘25
Night and Day _______________________________________________________________________________ . Sophia Kliatchko ’24 “The stars still shone and the day had drawn only a pale wash of light in the lower sky to the east” — John Steinbeck The sun rises and shadows fall Birds chirp their songs and call their cry The stars flee from the light A day is born after the night A new era of possibility arises And all the animals come to play
All of the children love to play The night gets longer in the fall And as the time to work arises The mother hears her baby’s cry They had a long and restful night Reluctantly, they greet the light
However, cats enjoy the light They stretch their legs and start to play Nobody watched them through the night And though they jump, they never fall They yowl, and mice flee from their cry The need to feed and hunt arises
The dogs lick their owner as he arises The window lets in beams of light Again, the baby starts to cry The dogs all urge their owner to play The owner walks down the stairs, only to fall. What a short night
Only owls and parents greet the night Parents finally rest as the moon arises So grateful for the lengthened nights that happen in the fall The sky turns black without the light Games stop as children cease to play Now silent is the baby’s cry
Parents don’t miss the baby’s cry They love the silence of the night Only owls are awake to play And with the owls, the raccoon arises They love the night and scorn the light They love the chilly wind of fall
As they play, they stop their cry They wonder at the fall of night Once more, the sun arises, bringing light.
. ‘23 Afsana Dhali
The Urchin’s Demise ____________________________________________________________
. Jad Benslimane ’24 “…winking and glimmering under the setting sun.” — John Steinbeck
Waves crashed over the sandy beach. Salty water washed away seashells. The boy sat with feet dangling from the wall. He was not alone in wondering. A tiny sea urchin drifted up beside him, small as a pebble. As tiny as the slowly fading sun.
His eyes were bright, a light yellow like the rays of the sun. Footprints strewn across the beach. The ripples on the coast caused by skipping stones, flat pebbles. Sharp edges and broken seashells. The boy sat deeply in thought, wondering. Pressed in his thighs was the cold edge of the sea wall.
Reflected light glinted off of the wall. The boy sat, gazing at the sun. Always wondered where he came from, sadly wondering. He had no memories, but he could remember the beach. He always felt at home, among animals and seashells. The sky turned black, making him feel small as a pebble.
The boy picked up a small stone, a sturdy pebble. Flung it as hard as he could at the wall. It cracked in half. Smack! scattered across the seashells. Dark clouds arrived, replacing the sun Droplets of rain began spattering the beach. He hid in an alcove in the seawall, still wondering.
Julia Magliato ‘23 .
The Arrow is the Middle School Art and Literary Publication of The Hackley School, 293 Benedict Avenue, Tarrytown, NY 10591