To the future and back
The Monster & under the sea
The Ocean I am from Where am I from?
What watches us
# Title Song 2-7 8 9 10 - 11 12 - 13 14-15 16-17
Addiction and Dry Shampoo
A Team by Ed Sheeran VOL 3 | ISSUE 1 | 24-25
Hislerim by Serhat Durmus
Monster by Andy Grammer
Let Go by The Calming
Alive by Empire of the Sun Divided by Polish Club
Halloween Theme by John Carpenter
ASH BALOG, 10 | BALOGAUD000@HSESTUDENTS.ORG ELAINA KING, 10 | KINGELA000@HSESTUDENTS.ORG
“August? Auuuguusttt!
Elisa whined, “Get up! Schools over! We’re free!” She lifted her arms over her head, pumping them in the air excitedly. August let out a light laugh.
“Yeah, if you consider working constantly instead, free.”
“You know what I meant,” she said, hitting his shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah.” Elisa grabbed his hand and dragged him through the school, to the outside. The halls had mostly cleared, but a
few students who knew them turned to say goodbye. They wouldn’t see each other over the summer, after all. Elisa was still gripping onto August as he tried to break free.
“August come on! It’s the last day of school, live a little! I’ll throw a party, and we can invite all our friends. Ooh! I can make my mom bake her cupcakes for you!”
“You know I’d love to, but I have work. I can’t.” Elisa huffed.
“You can, you just don’t want to. That’s okay though, we have all
summer, right?”
2
“Yeah of course! You know I’m just going to abandon you!” gave Elisa a tight hug and turned around. He walked the bustling streets New York. The cars yelled back and forth on the street, and the people pushed through each other. August didn’t think he’d ever get tired of it.
He came to a stop by a rusty old taxicab. The number across the side read 267. August dug through his pockets, rummaging through everything, before pulling out a set of keys. He pressed
not He turned bustling yelled and each he’d rusty across dug rummaging pulling the
button on top of the door, holding his keys close, and pulled the door open. The inside was not a regular taxi. It was bigger on the inside. The car opened up to a small metal room. The walls were covered in the same deep gray metal as the floor. There were purple lights running through the walls and floor. In the middle was a small control panel, filled with buttons and levers. August stumbled back in shock and looked at the number on the taxi again. 247. He had read the number wrong. He was going crazy, that was it. He couldn’t possibly be seeing this in real life. The world didn’t work like that. He stepped in, wanting to get a closer look. He shut the door behind him. The people on the street didn’t need to know of his discovery. His fingers trailed along the pulsing lights. He didn’t know quite how long he stared, but he heard a door swing open. He lunged for the panel hiding behind it, hoping and praying whoever it was wouldn’t see him. From the sound of how they continued humming and pressing buttons, they didn’t. The room flashed brightly, blinding August momentarily, before fading. The room looked exactly the same. August peeked up to see if something had
changed on the other side of the room. The other person in the room was staring right at him.
“Bad timing?” he chuckled nervously. The guy stepped closer.
“Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you get i- dang it! I forgot to lock it!”
“I- uh well, I was just going to my cab, to start work you know. Anyways, I must have gone to the wrong cab number, and when I opened it, I found this, and I was super confused because this shouldn’t be possible! I mean according to all known laws of physics-”
“Hey, hey slow down. I’m not going to hurt you, I just wanted to know. Come on let's get out of here.” He motioned his hand toward the door. August was still freaking out a bit but followed anyway. He was shocked to see they weren’t in New York anymore. At least, not his New York. He was led through ally after ally, and street after street.
“This place is really cool!”
“I mean, it’s not anything special, it's just home.”
“Well, it's certainly not home to me.”
“So, you like…came from the past or something?” Isaiah shook his head, flipping his goggles up, away from his eyes.
“Yeah, well for me this is the future,” He paused, trying to mentally wrap his head around the whole situation.
“God, this is trippy.” He holds his forehead, as if he were getting a migraine from the whole situation. This comment is returned with a confused look from Isaiah, like he just cussed him out.
“What is ‘trippy’? That sounds like some major old language.” He looked at August weird, as if he was one of the aliens they learned about at school.
“Still from the past,” August reminded him, laughing as they reach Isaiah’s home.
“Oh my god, dude. Is this your house?” Standing before him was a small, dystopian like apartment building. He was surprised by the look of the building, since he expected screens and a futuristic look.
“This was not what I was expecting,” he says, turning back to Isaiah, who looked confused by his reaction.
“What were you expecting?” Isaiah asked, as if it was the most normal apartment building ever. He opens the door for August, letting him walk in first.
“I don’t know, not this, that’s for sure,” He replies, walking into the dull and grey building. The walls were stained and looked like they hadn’t been cleaned for years. The stairs were withered and way after their time. The mailboxes had cobwebs, like nobody sent mail anymore. They walked up the stairs together, each step making a creak from beneath their feet. August coughed up the stairs, dust from the rug floating up into his mouth. “Jesus, dude! This is rough,” He coughed into his arm, dust flying everywhere.
“Yeah, I know,” Isaiah replied, and once up the stairs, they entered his apartment through facial recognition, which was weird because of how outdated the rest of the complex was. The inside was actually insane to August, large TV screens and weird
gadgets littered the floor of the apartment. Isaiah leads them up to his room, and they sit in on his massive bed. He flicks his wrist forward, showing a group of holograms that looked like computer screens. A purple keyboard, also a hologram, appeared I front of the screens. August’s eyes widened at the sight and immediately spoke up.
“What is that?!” August exclaims, leaning forward to look at it more closely. Isaiah turned to him, his palm seemed to be displaying the holograms, and he looked at him like this was normal.
“What do you mean? This is my own hologram device. Everyone has one now.” He says, turning back to the device and using his gloved hand, which had neon purple wires running up and down the gloves, allowing him to type on the hologram. “Anyway, I’m guessing you have some questions. So, ask away,” Isaiah says, putting his hair in a ponytail. Even though he was still starstruck, August immediately started asking questions.
“Where am I?” He started, still not knowing what country he was even in.
“What? Like the state? You’re still in New York, dingus,” Isaiah replies, snorting as he used his index finger to scroll on one of the hologram screens.
“Okay, and what happened? Why am I here?” August kept asking questions, trying to figure out the whole story.
“I disguised my time machine as a taxi car, and you got in the wrong car,” Isaiah shrugs, like it was normal.
“Okay. I’m from 2022, what has been discovered about our world since then?” He frantically asked, leaning back and forth to show how nervous he was.
“What kind of dorky question is that?” Isaiah paused and looked up August’s question, since he didn’t even know himself. “Okay, well, it looks like we found the cure to cancer, and obviously, time travel. Some dead guy named
Elon Musk did it,” he says, reading through an article, following it with his finger.
“Sound familiar?” He asks, turning towards August.
“No? Obviously?!” He stood up, pacing back and forth now. “What else?” He paced in the small bedroom, and Isaiah continued.
“Oh, God dude. Apparently, you guys had a ton of trees and stuff. And we invented severe advancements in technology. So much that everyone is obsessed with it now,” He scrolled on his hologram, reading the scary part of the article. “Okay, that’s enough of that. Want some food?” He flicked his wrist and closed his fist, then the holograms disappeared. He stood up and watched August pace in his room.
“Fine. That should calm my nerves,” August says, and stops pacing, his shoulder still tense. They walked out to the kitchen, where a large, bulky device stood next to a small screen.
“What do you want
to eat?” He asked, opening the small touch screen, which had a text box that looked like coding from in the movies.
“What do you have?” August asked, taking a deep breath and looked around for a pantry or a fridge.
“Anything,” Isaiah shrugs, turning his head around to look at August.
“Really? Okay…I guess I could get some french fries or something,” he shrugged, still a bit appalled by the weird machine in front of him.
“Okay,” Isaiah replies, and pours a pitcher of water in the top of the orange and white machine and punched some code into the screen. It started to smoke from the bottom and a tube opened, forming a box of fries from the bottom, on the plate.
Once fully formed, Isaiah takes the plate of real food and hands it to August. “There you go.”
August’s eyes go wide, taking the plate from Isaiah carefully. “Is
this real?” He asked, staring at the plate skeptically. Isaiah nods with a confused look on his face.
“Yeah, duh,” He snorts and sits at the table nearby. August sits next to him and sets the plate in front of his seat, staring at it, still not fully convinced. He takes a bite and was surprised by the taste. It tasted real, and better than anything he could find in 2022.
“Oh my god, dude,” He wolfs them down quickly, and dusts any salt off his hands onto the plate. “What am I gonna do?” He suddenly realized the worst part of this entire thing.
Isaiah looked at him like he was crazy.
“Uh, go home? What else would you do?”
“No, no, no you don’t understand! I can’t go home. I’ll accidentally slip up and say something I’m not supposed to; I’ll mess up the past. I’ve seen this in the movies and I can’t mess it up like
that!” He stumbled over his words, panicking.
“Hey, hey, it’ll all be ok. We’ll work out something.”
“No, no it won’t! I- I’ll never see my family again! I’ll never see my friends again! Everything I had is gone! Everyone who knew me is gone!” His breathing sped up and he got up from the table, using it to steady himself. Isaiah jumped up, concerned, and grabbed his arm. He led him to an empty area of the apartment and set him on the ground, but he kept one hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. August was gasping for air at this point, and he was shaking like crazy.
“Hey, hey, dude I need you to breathe, okay?” he took a moment to pause, “Okay, I need you to point out three things you can see. Can you do that for me?” August let out a weak nod.
“The table, you, and, uh, the wall?” August said, his breath shaking.
“Good, good that’s really good. Okay now can you do three thing you can feel?”
“Your hand, the ground, and my clothes.” His breathing had slowed considerably at this point. Focusing on something else had really helped him.
“Good, good. How are you feeling now?”
“Terrible, but I’ll be better.” August laughed. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, and he still felt unsteady, but he could at least think clearly now.
“I mean I don’t think you’ll accidentally suffocate yourself anymore, so that’s a win.” They both laughed.
“That still leaves the question unanswered, what can I do?” They sat in silence for a moment before Isaiah spoke.
“Oh, I actually have a solution,” Isaiah stood up, took August’s hand, and lead him out to the garage.
“What are we doing here?” August asked, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. He looked around the empty garage, with dust and a small trapdoor on the wall, covered poorly by a heavy metal band poster. “Are they still popular?” He asked hopefully, walking over to the poster and grinning.
“Who, them? Nah, I found it in my grandma’s attic. Turn it over,” Isaiah shrugged, walking over to August and setting his hands on his hips. August flipped it over to reveal a huge trapdoor, which opened to a large workshop area, with gadgets and a large worktable, littered with rusty nails and hammers. “Okay, here’s my idea,” Isaiah starts, pulling out a wrench from his pocket and flipping it in his hand. “Let’s
make a mind wiping machine, I can make it, of course,” He finished, turning to August, who was hesitant to even enter the workshop.
“Is that even allowed? Brainwashing?” August asked, stepping over the trapdoor and into the workshop.
“No, it’s actually really illegal,” Isaiah snorted, as if he didn’t really care about that. “But since this is so well hidden, you should be fine.”
August looked hesitant, but at this point he would do anything to get home and not ruin the future. “Okay, let’s do this then,” He took a deep breath and walked over to Isaiah, ready to assist him in anything he needed. Isaiah nodded and got to work on a previous attempt.
A few hours later, they had a brainwashing machine. “Okay, um, how do we test this?” August laughed, scratching the back of his head nervously.
Isaiah shrugged, “We have to try it on you, I guess.” He looked down and kicked a stray rock with his foot.
“Okay, but before I do…” August ran toward Isaiah and gave him a tight hug. “Thank you so much, Isaiah. I genuinely would be lost without you.” Isaiah smiled sympathetically, hugging him back.
“Dude, of course! There’s literally no way I would pass
up making a friend in this boring place,” He laughed, and let go of August.
“I’m serious. I’d still be on the floor sobbing without you,” August held Isaiah by the shoulders. “Thank you, and if this does work, let this be our last goodbye.”
Isaiah’s smile dropped, realizing that August wouldn’t even remember his existence. “Aww, dude. I’ll miss you too,” He grinned, and turned back to the machine. “Okay, put this on your head and sit in this chair.” Isaiah sits August down in the ‘magic’ chair, pulling up the control panel. Before he does anything, he pauses, looking back at August for the last time. He walks over to him and gently kisses the top of his head. “See ya, man.” Isaiah turns back to the control panel and clicks ‘go’ before August could react.
August woke up to pounding on his taxi window. He groaned and looked up to see a pair of green eyes staring at him. Quickly, he rolled down the window.
“Dude, what the heck! You were supposed to come to my place after work!” August groaned again and help his hand up to his head.
“Did you even work at all?”
“I’m sorry Elisa, I must have dozed off when I got in. My head is killing me.”
“Nah, it’s fine. Im not actually mad, but my mom did spend all that time making cupcakes for us. Maybe we can go to my place still? We can get you some pain meds on the way, and we could have a movie night just the two of us. No party.”
“Yeah, sounds good to me.” August climbed out of his taxi, making sure to lock it, and started on the way to Elisa’s place with her.
Isaiah sat holding his head. It had been a few weeks since he’d sent August home. He hadn’t left his home since. Everywhere he looked, something reminded him of August. The table, where they’d eaten dinner together or the corner where he’d brought August out of a panic attack, they all reminded him of his friend. He was the first real friend Isaiah had made since he was little. He was the only one who seemed to care about him and enjoy his personality.
He pulled himself up and walked to his garage, passing by the machine he’d used for August. He
felt a pain in his heart and tears began to well in his eyes. Before he could stop it, he broke down and started sobbing. He had never felt this attached to someone before and he couldn’t bear losing him. Tears streamed down his face as he sat down and pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them. He let out a choked sob and pulled his legs closer, desperately seeking the comfort the pressure could give him. He looked up at the machine through his blurry tears and stood up. If August was able to forget him, he should be able to forget him back. He didn’t need him. He could live his life alone. He knew those things weren’t true, but he was so angry. How could August not feel the same way about their friendship? How could he just forget about him? They could’ve worked something out; he could’ve gone to the past to visit him sometimes. They could have made it work! Of course, it didn’t work out that way though. Isaiah had never been quite too lucky.
Before he had time to regret his decision, he sat down in the chair, and got himself all set up and strapped in, helmet and all. Then, he pressed the button.
NATHALIE PRICE, 10 | PRICENAT003@HSESTUDENTS.ORG
You accidentally made a monster. You made a figure out of clay, It was perfect, So, you say.
You didn’t stop it when it broke our gnome, So, there were no repercussions when it ate all the furniture in our home. All you say is, “We’ll buy more.”
So, it thinks its behavior is okay. When it learned to talk, It called me names, You did not tell it that it cannot treat me this way. You did not begin to think it insane, You did not tell that my life is not a game, So, without preamble it went outside to play, It crawled into the sewer, And you searched all day, And brought it back home, Even though it now smells, I thought in the sewer it should stay, And when it got banned from school, You didn’t care, You coddled it anyway, You should have noticed when it became violent, You say when it hits me, “It’s a mistake.”
“That’s not what it meant.”
So, when you wake up one morning to find my throat slit, Who will you blame?
You, me, or it?
BROOKLYNN REYES, 10 | REYESBRO000@HSESTUDENTS.ORG
The ocean is perfect
But not as perfect as you
Think same people are scared
Same people are in love
Same don’t care
But the reason same are
Scared is from the unknown
Same hate the sea creatures
They love how they are free
In the oceans ether you are
Scared of the oceans or you love the
Oceans we still need the oceans
So, we all still need to take good care of it.
I am from pot holes From charles and keystone
I am from the broken swing sets (yellow, muddy it felt unstable)
I am from police sirens the red & blue lights
I'm from hand-me-downs and sunday dinners
From my momma and daddy
I'm from a loud house and random outburst
From "come in before the street lights come on" and "you smell like outside"
I'm from praise dance, drill team, and choir.
I'm from Warren Township, seafood boils, and fried chicken
From the life my uncle lost due to gun violence
The life my great grandma lost due to community east hospital
I am from where the color of my skin is a federal offense where the content of my character is always dismissed
I'm from sounds and sins and grace and mercy
Now I'm created in christ image, now I love through his Glory
LAUREN FEE
10 | FEELAU000@HSESTUDENTS.ORG
I am from coffee machines, From espressos and cafeterias.
I am from the sand box in my backyard. (Red, Sandy It had a soft touch.)
I am from the trees and sunflowers, The elm and oak trees
I am from apple pies on Christmas eve and my mom's brown eyes, from Mangela and Maritza.
I'm from the kindness and wilderness, From kindness is key and honesty is the best policy.
I'm from Bible bingo, and worshipping our god.
I'm from Miami and Jimmy's branch, rice and beans and Cuban coffee with milk. From the boat my grandparents came In from Cuba
The time my cousin came to live with me. On my mom's nightstand, lays a memory Of me.
A memory with love, she'll cherish always and forever.
NOEL KERLIN, 11 | KERLINOE000@HSESTUDENTS.ORG
I am American.
patriotism runs in the people around me.
The second amendment controversy brings fury to my family.
I am American.
A part of a broken society.
The history streams in my brain.
The truth that grates like steel on glass.
Where freedom rings, but echoes differently for all of us.
Where justice is promised, but only delivered to some.
The anthem speaks of unity,
But I see the fractures—deep and wide.
I stand in the midst of it all,
Caught between what we say we are,
And what we’ve become.
The past whispers of triumphs we celebrate,
But the shadows of injustice loom larger.
We’re told to look away, to be proud,
But my eyes remain open,
And I cannot unsee the cracks.
I am Indigenous
My grandmother’s culture runs through my blood
the vanishing of our tribe
The land taken from our very grasp
The land promised never came.
Pushed and pushed till there was no more pushing to be done
Our traditions lost into the American society
Our blood in the ground
When I speak of my ancestors,
They question, “Are you really one of them?”
As if the blood flowing through me is diluted,
As if my identity is something I must prove to them.
I am met with skepticism,
Cold, hard eyes that strip my heritage bare,
Like they own the truth and I, the outsider.
I show them my grandma
As if I owe a piece of my blood.
They call me a stranger to my own people,
But they are wrong.
Even if they can’t see it, even if they deny it,
The stories are in my veins, the land still remembers,
And no matter how hard they try to silence me, I know who I am.
Known for food
Food my family couldn’t afford
Formed communities
Little Italys they called them
Impoverished but connected unlike any other
The American dream they say.
Seems unreachable to us.
But so reachable for the people the history books dedicate themselves to.
We built our lives in the cracks of this country,
In neighborhoods forgotten by maps,
In streets where dreams were sold for survival.
We were the labor, the hands that built the cities,
Yet they called us strangers in a land that promised us hope.
I am from my father’s house.
His words filled with malice
Lacerations unseen to the naked eye
But I can feel them
I can feel the words cutting deeper and deeper Pain. Pain is relative they say.
The phase not bearing enough weight to describe my relative.
The past is supposed to be left there
But the past lives with me now I look at the world differently
That is part of where I am from.
Where am I from?
I am from this godforsaken world,
A place where shadows linger, and dreams unravel.
My family’s history, buried in the dust of time,
Fades into whispers, forgotten in the winds of oblivion.
I am from the echoes of voices long stilled, Their laughter and sorrow dissolved into nothingness.
The stories of my ancestors, once vivid and bold, Now lie crumbled, like pages torn from a forgotten book.
And I too, will drift into that silent sea,
Where memories sink like stones in deep waters.
I will be forgotten, like the countless souls before me,
Lost among the stories that no one remembers to tell.
But still, I stand, a little light in the night,
Writing my own story in the stars before they fade.
Though time may bury us all in the end,
For now, I leave my mark upon this godforsaken land.
The trees swayed under the moonlight, casting long shadows on the dirt. Leaves rustled overhead. He heard animals all around him, but he couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being watched. With every step he took, with every leaf that crunched under foot, the feeling became harder to ignore.
“It’s here. It’s here. It’s here.”
The voice in his head wouldn’t stop.
“Shut up!” Theo yelled into the trees, his fists clenching, “God, I must be insane.”
He continued walking, watching for anything unusual. He knew something was off.
The wind whistled, creating sorrowful songs
through the wiry branches above. He clutched the shoulder strap of his bag tightly. He should’ve left long, long ago. Far before it got dark, but he couldn’t stop his curiosity. The pit of unknowing would grow and grow until it became too much to handle. He got jittery at the thought of simply finding out what was hidden out here.
The stories around town had to have some truth to them, and he was going to find out. He had to. Red glowing eyes, long knifelike fangs, and a furry body, or so he’d heard. Those stories couldn’t have come from nowhere. He would find out where they came from, no matter what.
A sudden crack sounded behind him, causing his body to still. Fear flooded his veins, and his breath stopped. He stood still, unsure if he wanted to
see what was behind him. He knew it couldn’t have been anything other than a normal forest creature, yet all logic had left him.
He slowly turned, feeling a biting gaze on his body. He glanced quickly around, the light from his flashlight flowing with him, and looked for the familiar glow of animal eyes in light, anything he could pin to something normal, something natural. He stood face to face with the creature.
It had a long, wet snout, long, lanky legs, and small ears poking out of the side of its head, just below sharp, spindly horns. It stared at Theo before scurrying off, its hooves kicking up dirt and leaves as it went, and Theo sighed in relief, laughing.
It was a deer. Deer live in forests, he didn’t know
what he was expecting, and yet he still felt fear in his bones, down to the marrow. He laughed again, holding his head.
The deer scurried off, its hooves crunching the dry leaves scattered across the forest floor. He heard more rustling as it left, its legs kicking up into the air, hitting bushes and sticks. He didn’t pay attention to the fact that the rustling was closer than the deer was.
He moved on, an unsettling feeling still growing in a pit in his stomach, no matter what
he did.
Its just the forest, you’ve been here so many times before. Yet, the anxiety was almost bursting him at the seams.
He kept walking, pushing away wide branches and vines to make his way deeper into the forest, branch after branch, leaf after leaf, until he ran into something and stepped slowly back.
He stood face to face with a creature of monumental stature. It had to have been at least 7 feet tall. It was humanoid, but
covered in brown, muckcovered fur. Large moth wings protruded its back. Bright red eyes pierced into Theo. Theo stared back. The creature let out a soft rumble, before spreading its wings and taking off into the night.
Theo watched as it slowly became one with the sky and he couldn’t see it anymore. He sat down slowly, in awe. He had seen it, he had seen what others could only dream of.
He had seen Mothman.
addiction and dry shampoo i don't believe in dry shampoo it's a lie powder for hair that should've been showered its a temporary solution to what seems to be a minor problem maybe if you only try it "i'll only use it today" you swear but the next day it's waiting there it's easy and fast and just makes life easier and maybe you're even more relaxed less stress, work, and worry "ill shower tomorrow" you say this is a problem for later a secret problem you brush and fluff your hair until your unshowerhedness is invisible anyone else would think it wasn't a problem i wouldn't recommend dry shampoo or maybe i'm warning you "don't do it" they say "don't even try" "not even one time" over and over you are warned about the dangers addiction a scary thing something you need to stop but can't control a way to hide the problems of yesterday and tomorrow i promise it won't be one night one time one place it will start to take over your like in a way you won't be able to erase months will go by and you'll wish you would've showered sooner or got some help i thought i knew her but she was hiding dry shampoo and her addiction i thought we were best friends
