ODDBALLS
Artist: Kaylee Howe
Créatif Spring 2022 Issue
24
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Créatif
Instinct vs. Reality of Mind
by Kyra Lynch
Créatif is the HUHS literary arts magazine that is published each winter and spring. We invite submissions in the categories of prose, poetry, art and photography.
Créatif Staff Lindsay Arvidson, Sydney Gifford, Kira Kirsch Madelyn Oechsner and Sam Sotola Faculty Advisor: Michelle Yu
Any questions or submissions can be directed to creatif@huhs.org 2
Akine
by Izabella Kettner 23
Robot
by Amber Rose
Table of Contents Title
Tank
by Nick Tiefenthaler 22
Artist
Page
Sasha
Sydney Gifford
Untitled
Jolie Mioskowski
4
Holy Hill
Miles Erickson
5
Pledge
Allison Schroeder
6
The Bonds of the Lynx
Elena Espinosa
7
Jade Skowera
Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby
8
Jessica Schoettel
Slim
9
Wish You Were Here
Jade Skowera
10
Contain
Noon Wallace
11
Perspectives I
Roxann Ibarra
12
Perspectives II
Sophia Parkinson
12
Perspectives III
Jiro Abuan
13
Perspectives IV
Kylie Langlois
13
Lightning in the Rain
Mary Becker
14
Seasons Reborn
Maggie Lanfear
15
6/20/21
Ella Robertson
15
A Dreaming World
Ashley BasoraHernandez
16
3
Front cover
Title The Inside Job Miss Butterfly
Artist Maximilian Steadman Kyra Yang
Page 17 18
Sadness and Pity B’Elanna Hawley Flowers Love Lost Jade Skowera
18
House of Tragedy Jasmine Muller
20
Robot
Amber Rose
22
Tank
Nick Tiefenthaler
22
Instinct vs. Reali- Kyra Lynch ty of Mind Akine Izabella Kettner Oddballs
Kaylie Howe
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23 23 Back Cover
The light peaking through the blinds, falling gently on her face like a feather, it was one of the only times that year that she looked so peaceful. After I finished online schooling, I started my homework. While doing so, I heard a quiet yell from my mom’s room. She yelled for my dad to come quickly. He went to her room and while they talked, I could only hear a couple of words, but the sentence I remember the most was my dad saying, “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” “No, call an ambulance,” mom replied. The paramedics rushed in and I locked myself in the bathroom trying not to panic, but I was shaking. I could hear everything, including my mom gasping for air and the paramedics asking if she was drunk. They left and my dad came to check up on me, and he saw that I was crying on the phone to my best friend. I hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go in fear of my mom not returning. I went to bed at 9:56 p.m. and at 12:35 a.m., my dad told me the news. I was devastated, hoping it was a bad dream and praying that I could wake up. The last memory I have of my mom was there on the floor gasping for air and telling me to go get my dad and see that the medics were here. Now it’s 2022 and I moved from Minnesota to Wisconsin. It’s been stressful, and having no time to cope with friends made it worse. The only comfort I had in the family had passed away. Sometimes I can hear her laugh and see her smile; It makes me wanna cry. I couldn’t even be in the house without feeling her presence and the gutwrenching guilt that pierced my heart and seemed so eager to drape over my shoulders in shame for not doing more. I try not to cry when I talk about her, but most of the time, I can’t help but tear up a bit. She helped shape me into the young lady I am today and a piece of her will always stay with me. I wonder if she can see me now and what she
would think of me.
Untitled
Now and then in my dreams, I can see my mom showing me my birth certificate after a doctor’s appointment. Just having it read, ‘Jasmine Cordelia Muller’ and below it ‘Congratulations, it’s a girl!’ Then she promised me while driving, that she would try to be the best mother ever. To me she was, but for others, wanting was quite different from actually doing. She wasn’t perfect, but no one is; we struggle with things that other people just can’t see. Overall, I love my mom, and there isn’t anything that could change my mind on it now. Tracy Danyelle Wright was my Mother and her legacy lives on within me and nothing in this world can take that away from me.
By Jolie Mioskowski
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21
House of Tragedy
by Jasmine Muller
In 2005, a baby girl was born in Hennepin County Health Center. Even though her mother wanted her name to be Ariel, her father ‘fought’ for her name to be Jasmine. My mother understood that the world can be a cruel and unforgiving place, but she said that she knew I would become something extraordinary. This
Holy Hill
by Miles Erickson
made me feel as though my mom would be by my side forever, but who knew that forever could be severed by the sharp knife of a short life? The girl I speak of is me, and this is the tragic tale of how I lost the most important person in my life. My mother lived as someone who could make me laugh even when I was mad or sad, like when I was scared of the dark and cried until she stopped me and hugged me, telling me it was all right and that she would protect me unless it was John Wick. I couldn’t stop laughing. I would always get mad at her for it, but later I saw it as a gift. If she wasn’t working, she would either do chores, run errands, or spend time with me and my older brother, Alex. Well, that’s if she could. My mom was an alcoholic, not the physical abuser kind, but a psychological one. I tried to make excuses for her, like in 2012 when she didn’t pick me up from school till the clock showed 8:27 at night or when she left me at the park by myself when I was 7, and then I had to drag her two blocks to get home. My dad tried to offer comfort, but all it was only telling me how much of a bad mother she was. I love my dad, and I knew he meant well, but it still hurt. She would always drink and drive, sometimes with me and my brother and me in the car, which led to an accident where she and my brother almost died. When she came back from the hospital, I didn’t even want to look at her. When she wasn’t drunk, she was quite enjoyable. She had a smile that could light up a whole room. She would even play video games with me. The good nights I remember are us two watching a show or movie till we fell asleep. Those are the moments I crave to experience just one more time. I remember the day like it was yesterday. It happened on May 28th, 2020, and I was 14. I woke up my mom with a normal good morning; “Mornin’ Ma.” She greeted me back in a hushed tone with a simple, “Hi, Baby Bear.” She sat up in her bed and started reading The Bible, so I stood in the doorway and watched her in silence for a brief moment.
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5
Pledge
by Allison Schroeder
Arlene Ida Handle was my maternal great-grandmother, we are connected through blood and names. Arlene is my middle name, named after the woman who died
Love Lost
by Jade Skowera
a few short months before I was born. Arlene means “pledge,” a word that truly embodies what kind of person she was. Grandma Arlene was devoted to her husband and children, despite the mental illnesses that plagued her, which were passed down from her parents. As history likes to repeat itself, she too passed down the genes of mental
illness to her son, her son to his daughter, and potentially down to myself or one of my four siblings. Putting aside her mental turmoil, Arlene had a life and personality to be admired. She married early in life for love. She’d often be dancing and laughing in the kitchen, cracking jokes and wisecracks to her family. While her mental illness kept her in bed for weeks at a time, at the point of almost being institutionalized, she still tried her hardest to be
a devoted wife and mother. All that was forgiven and forgotten when her husband, Wayne died. She slipped into a deep depression and passed a few months after him. Arlene died of a broken heart. When I hear the stories about her, I ache a little at the knowledge that
I ache a little at the knowledge that she and I will never meet.
she and I will never meet. I will never be able to tell her that she is still missed, that her love for her family is still felt today, and that I am
I’ve heard the stories about broken hearts But I did not believe them when they said The pain from them will break you into parts. I have seen it in all the books I’ve read And I said I’d never be that stupid I’d never give that power to a man To my surprise, the culprit wasn't cupid But someone who was a part of my clan So my other half stabbed me in the back. Twas the element of surprise that hit where it hurt, stopping me dead in my tracks As I was thrown into the fire she lit
glad to have inherited her name. If she would have been willing, I would have loved to have a heart to heart
about mental illness as well, because it’s not something I enjoyed witnessing firsthand
And as I looked at the smile on her face I watched as all I thought I knew erase
in my mother and grandfather, and it’s certainly not a battle I’d like to endure myself. If it is in the cards for me to inherit it, then I’ll make sure to do my best to love as passionately as she, devoted to my family. I am glad I inherited her name,because of all the family history behind it, and because of her unique personality. I dream of one day getting married and starting a big family, similar to the qualities of Arlene’s family. Despite everything, I pledge to cherish the name I was given as it connects me to my ancestors and reveals the culture in my genes.
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The Bonds of the Lynx Miss Butterfly By Kyra Yang
Sadness and
Pity Flowers By B’Elanna Hawley
By Elena Espinosa 18
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Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby by Jade Skowera
Inside Job By Maximillian Steadman
The second the play button is hit, the world’s spotlight finds me, Tuning out everything else and for a moment, when it all falls away, I feel in sync with the world Moving to the melody of the music. If a song could be mineThis would be it. And as I get to the halfway mark I think, 7 minutes is far too short for a song like this. A song like this should go on forever Its sound’s just too glorious to be discontinued Its flow, too precious to be interrupted Songs like this belong to eternity
Not to any one person, But to the world. To the birds who wake up the sun with their songs To the ones who miss the train and have to walk home alone To the little kids catching fireflies in their backyard And to all the moments that remind me of life and its beauty
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A dreaming World by Ashley Basora-Hernandez
Slim by Jessica Schoettel
will something bring to an end my eternal inner slumber for I am never at peace alas I cannot rest, I wait for someone to assure me that in dream I’m not in someplace horrid for I cannot rest, alas the last of my brain cannot muster the power, if I’m to sleep I hope tis well not to be a battle with life itself there’s nothing left within the world of suffering for the exit is nowhere near I must dream of another realm to leave This cursed world, that we wish to leave instead we say much but act so little our fragile bodies are oh so brittle. Alas to change is a hassle but to put forth the effort we can change for ourselves, there’s to be a world where no one should sleep or the world is so peaceful no longer are there dreams to be reaped the world that I speak of has no need For the dreams of the world are the reality that we seek.
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Wish You Were Here by Jade Skowera I woke up with my mom and my sister standing over me
Seasons Reborn
by Maggie Lanfear
When the clocks turn back and the days become shorter, I become empty while you turn colder. Soon new life greets you when the clock turns forward,
Their faces were so serious, I thought it was some kind of joke they wouldn't let me in on until it was over.
But their frowns never flipped, their eyes remained wide And when curiosity finally drove me out of bed and into the living room, I was ambushed by the words that came out of my sister’s mouth And the pain in her voice as she told me that one of our dear friends
You scream, “Oh boy, finally it’s over.” The Sun fills the souls of the empty faces That once lay on the snowy blankets. When I was so distant from the cold, there it was waiting for me to fold.
Committed suicide.
It was a moment in time that got tripped up and played on repeat And as I rocked on my front porch swing, I watched with disbelief at the cars driving past And thought how dare they keep going like nothing changed
While I remained in the loop, repeating the moment that broke my heart
I have seen death before. And it’s always sad. When old age is the culprit, it’s still inarguable.
But the pain that was created when a young life ends is worse. In millions of degrees
6/20/21
With thousands of more knives
10
by Ella Robertson 15
And when it’s one’s own pain that’s responsible for their death,
Lightning in the Rain by Mary Becker
The force of gravity doesn’t even compare.
When it rains I think of him, how much even God misses him Every time I see the color yellow, I am brought back to the night before it happened
when I saw him alive and smiling I see him in every tall, skinny boy who has piercing blue eyes and that same messy haircut I feel him lingering in the rooms and throughout the hallways in every building, All the time
And all of the pain that he left, was absorbed by the people who knew him And loved him the most And I can only be grateful for the pain, Because it’s the only reminder of him that I’ll have
Contain
By Noon Wallace After the memories of him fade away and I can no longer remember the sound of his voice I will never forget that day, on the porch swing and the look on my sister’s face as she told me Layne left us.
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PERSPE
CTIVES III
I
Jiro
Roxann
Abuan
Ibarra
II
IV
Sophia
Kylie
Parkinson
Langlois
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