A huge thank you goes to the Creative Writing Club Advisor, Ms. Sofia Mazloum, for her constant support, her dedication to improving our skills, and her passion for writing. Thank you for allowing us to delve into a world beyond reality, while giving us the opportunity to reach our utmost potential.
KYNDA SALAM
My sky lost its color, my sun lost its light.
All my flowers are dead, and the moon fails to light up my night.
Every flake of snow has melted, my breeze doesn’t flow as smooth.
Not only my tears are drowning me, now the rain does that too.
My trees are breathing backwards, my ground is cracking up.
My fire doesn’t burn anymore, and my cold heart has frozen up.
My walls are stronger than ever, yet they fail to build me a home. Myguardskeepmesafebuttheynever learnedthattheymostlyneedtoprotectme whenI’malone. I’mstartingtogetusedtoitbutIdon'twant toadapt. Iwanttoprovidemyselfwithallthe comfortthatInowlack. Iwanttoliftmysoulupagain,Iwantto raisemyselfesteem. ButIfeellikeIlostmysoultopain,and myhopesarenothingbutadream.A purpose,adesire,amajorgoaltoachieve Butjustlikeyounow,thosearehandsof helpIcan’tseemtoreach.
w could I even think of gaining you back r having lost you for years Years of guilt ears of regret. Years of giving up what I w cannot get. I miss your smile and I miss your laugh.
Tala
To my younger self, Your first kiss wasn’t as magical as you imagined it would be.
And all the people you thought would stay eventually had to leave.
I can reassure you though, that it was never your fault.
So please don’t blame yourself, it leads to a very bad result.
Your hard work paid off well, and it got you so many places.
feel happy or sad, know on whose shoulder you’re leaning I won’t tell you who to trust. You’ll figure that out on your own.
Whether
Tala is an aspiring writer. She spent most of her childhood writing and therefore developed this talent, which turned into a passion.
When she was young, Tala used to write letters to her future self. In this piece, she decided to finally write her younger self back.
Your heart will need a break, make sure you provide that.
Bring comfort to yourself, because no one else is going to Everyone will try, but before you have them make sure you have you. You’ll have fun with your pencils. You will mean what you write.
You’ll start singing and acting too. Art will be a
You’regoingtolearnandteach.You’re goingtospeakandpreach. You’regoingtogrowandblossom.You’re goingtorealizethatyou’reawesome. You’regoingtofeelweakandfragile,but neverreallybeit Butyougotthis,I’mtellingyou.Tryto believeit.
Tala is an aspiring writer. She spent most of her childhood writing and therefore developed this talent, which turned into a passion. When she was young, Tala used to write letters to her future self. In this piece she decided to finally write her younger self back.
Don’t let your sky lose its color, don't let your sun lose its light.
Water your flowers on a daily, be the moon and shine in your night.
Life is a game, a challenge, a blessing so make sure you win this fight.
Be stronger than me. Embrace who you are. What
What forsaken being Can bathe in the sunlight undisturbed? What lonely doe Can drink at the river’s edge? What hopeless dreamer Can hopelessly dream of the future so unknown And make it across the great ocean Completely, utterly, perfectly alone?
Ignore the rules, traditions, and conventions, for they are meant to be broken. After all, the sea does not flow where we command it, does it?
It flows the earth’s crust, carving beaches and rocks, wrecking entire fleets in its fury and connecting us all in its mercy.
Rhea has always loved writing. Ever since she was a child, writing has been her safe haven, a chance for her to delve deep into a world built on imagination and fantasy. Being infatuated with the art of poetry, she spends her free time writing poems around various themes, one of which being the infamous subject of love.
Dear dreamers, Listen to the sweet melody of your hearts’ beat, For it renders all but love, completely, utterly, perfectly obsolete.
Asheartstringsconnecttwosouls Inlove,life,anddeath. Aseyesmeet Atloveatfirstsight. Asdreamersdream Anddreamscometrue. Thestar crossedloversshallmeet Andtheirloveshall,initsfervor,renew
So, dear dreamers, may I tell you a secret? That unconditional romance you desire? That passionate fairytale you believe does not exist in this harsh reality?
It does exist, as long as you are willing to seek it out.
It exists in the songs of the birds, the sun on the endless horizon.
It exists in the fields of endless daffodils, the winds against the grass
It exists in the sky, a blanket of deep blue. It exists in the twinkling lights, the craters of the moon. It exists in the soft confessions said under the candle light. It exists in the dances of lovers under the moonlight. It exists in the gentle embrace of a loved one and the kisses to the cheek of a beloved. It exists in Verona, a testament to a love prohibited.
Celine is a creative writer, using her imagination to entertain and to explore beyond the realm of this world. She invests her time exploring the law, justice, crime, truth, and everything in between. She channels such knowledge into her writing, an example being this murder mystery.
My blood was boiling. Drops of sweat glistened on my forehead as my lungs expanded and contracted.
Oppressive heat suffocating what is left of fresh air. Everyone in this room happened to be affected by this wave of heat, except the body on the floor.
A human being. On the floor. Dead. Specifically a seventeen-year old student who just happened to be a new friend I had made. And I happened to be a suspect Having been a very active participant during the time of her murder, I definitely could be the killer. I will neither confirm nor deny that, for I don’t trust you to keep your mouth shut However, times are desperate now. I must narrate the events that have occurred these past two days. If I fall with the lies, I must make sure the truth lives
The thing is, I wasn’t exactly the best person to begin with. I was, and like to think that I still am, a high achieving person. I dabbled in the art of minding my own business until I saw an obstacle in my way; it is then I made sure I crushed it to extinction. Whether that obstacle was a piece of paper or a human being, I was more than happy to occasionally jump across the extreme ends of morality to get what I want.
In other words, I was quite the devil. I may have done a few things deemed as unethical, but luckily, or what I understood as lucky then, I had the gift of completely ignoring any inch of remorse I had felt.
Looking back at the person I was pre murder case, I realized that I was shallow I was a fingertip, desperate to touch any inch of power, bringing down anyone who cared about me in the process.
Series of Prompts: One out of five December 21 2021
“I had won every medal, every trophy, every award that was within my reach
A police officer is currently staring suspiciously into my journal, as if a pond of blood would suddenly seep into one of the pages. I’m nervous. There is no blood, but there’s worse. Words. A lot of them. My thoughts were obsessive, ignorant, angry That journal was my personal catharsis, I did not appreciate the intrusion of privacy yet I didn’t have much of a choice. I wanted to cry in frustration Flipping through the pages, she inches closer and closer to the series of prompts about my new friend, potentially making me a primary suspect.
is a creative writer, using her imagination to entertain and to explore beyond the realm of this world. She invests her time exploring the law, justice, crime, truth, and everything in between. She channels such knowledge into her writing, an example being this murder mystery.
I basked in the obvious jealousy underneath the fake “congratulations”, the radiating envy, even from my own friends. And the worst part is that I loved it. The agitation in my friends’ faces as I achieve what they wished they could but never can, what they dreamt of doing until I beat them to it. I’ve been called a vulture, subtly stealing my friends’ ideas and eating at their authenticity. Though I don’t see the similarity considering vultures feed on the dead, and I feed on ideas that happen to be very alive.
There’s this secret mantra regarding being a good friend, which I never had to follow of course, and it is to always be happy for your friends’ achievements.
I don’t comprehend why I receive all this hatred either. If my dear friends preferred for me to not interfere in their achievements, then they shouldn’t talk about it. Anything that’s said in the air is for anyone to catch You might even say that I’ve done them a favour. I brought what they could never do and made it a reality. I am quite the success factor. The finest part of it all, is that they were forced to plaster a smile on their faces instead of unleashing the pure resentment they carried in their poor heavy hearts.
Celine is a creative writer, using her imagination to entertain and to explore beyond the realm of this world. She invests her time exploring the law, justice, crime, truth, and everything in between. She channels such knowledge into her writing, an example being this murder mystery.
I welcomed the half hearted hugs, arms extended as if to choke me, defeated laughter, and the few congratulatory words carrying an underlying flavor of fake surprise. I live in their negativity, like an unwanted guest overstaying their welcome, urging me to do more, to be more.
Though the new girl surprised me. Having entered on a scholarship, I knew she had somewhat of a reasonable intellectual capacity; I felt the need to compete. I befriended her, allowed her to share her ideas. She was a chatter box, bubbly and joyful. I ignored most of what she said, except when she had started babbling on and on about a science fair competition, expressing her excitement to potentially win. I knew this was my chance. Fast forward two weeks of preparation, I had won. I saw the sad smile on her face, but I also saw something new.
When congratulating me, she was genuine. There was not one speck of envy, no deep rooted resentment, simply admiration, as if I inspired her. I felt weird. I was angry, angry that she wasn’t jealous. I didn’t feel any power. I almost fell into guilt, that made me angrier, I was losing control
To my further surprise, she had asked me if I had wanted to be partners for another nearing competition. I quickly refused, claiming that we were better off as competitors. It was then I saw resentment in her expression. At last, a bit of power Though, it didn’t feel as good as I thought. Perhaps I was feeling guilty. This is terrible. She’s too new."
Nightmare would’ve been an adequate adjective. It’s evident through this prompt and the rest to follow that I was conflicted, unfortunately a very prominent trait of a young murderer.
I don’t like sharing my thoughts. I feel the urge to grab my journal and smack it on the officer’s head. How dare she read my thoughts so calmly, so blissfully, they are not hers to know. How dare she misunderstand the entire situation.
If only I could not relive these horrendous few days. But I have to. Justice is worth the sacrifice
One night, I looked to the sky. I remembered the moon is whole even in different lunar phases.
Euphoria and enchantment gradually pervaded the atmosphere.
There was an intensity and heighten in emotions as the moon rose.
The moon appears bright, despite the night devoured by darkness
Just as the mind constantly works, despite the creature devoured by doubt.
Class of 2023 Beirut, International College
RHEA MADHOUN
CELINE NOUREDDINE
DANIEL CHEHIMI
HALA HANOUN
KYNDA SALAM
LAMA ABI AMMAR
LAYLA AYASS
MOUSTAFA HOTEIT
RANI ZAITOUN
SAMAYA SOUFI
SARAH KALOT
SARAH SAMAHA
TALA FLAYHAN