Tamarack Tower Spring 2024

TAMARACK TOWER SPRING 2024

LITERARY MAGAZINE

The Creative Writing Club THE CORE TEAM Jaina Gonzalez President|Editor|Contributor| Formatter - Jaina is a senior. Their favorite genre is sci-fi, and love the idea of creating and consuming graphic novels.

Kathleen Saunders Vice President|Contributor|Editor - Kathleen or Katie, is a junior. She enjoys writing fictional stories with supernatural elements. When not writing, she likes to draw or crochet.

Betsy Cajas Vice President|Editor - Betsy is a junior. She enjoys horror and stories based around the human mind. She loves fantasy related stories with heavy amounts of worldbuilding involved.

Yvette Solis

Kathleen Saunders

Contributor|Editor - Yvette is a senior. While she most frequently writes poems, Yvette also writes short stories and is working on a novel of her own. She is also a big fan of music and acting.

Nicholas Bedoya Contributor|Editor - Nicholas is a senior. He is an artist who also is exploring poetry.

Mr.Fernandez Club Advisor- Mr. Fernandez is an English teacher at PCHS. He teaches Pre-IB/AP English 10 and IB Film

Mrs.Rose

Club Advisor- Mrs.Rose is an 9th grade english & 11th grade IB/AP english teacher.

The Big Three, Jaina Gonzalez

The Creative Writing Club CONTRIBUTORS Yadira Sandoval

Stepping into Music, Jaina Gonzalez

Yadira is a sophomore. She enjoys writing stories, plays , and poetry. She leans towards realistic fiction, mystery, and romance. When Yadira isn’t writing she loves to read, run, and binge watch her favorite TV shows.

Feisel Miranda Feisel is a sophomore.

Leilani Flores Leilani is a sophomore.

Alondra Bautista Alondra is a sophomore.

Guadalupe Navarro Guadalupe is a sophomore.

Anthony Enriquez Anthony is a senior.

Menelik Reason Menelik is a sophomore.

FORMATTERS Ava Osorio Ava is a senior. Ava enjoys reading about politics along with history and is always ready for a debate. In her spare time, she plots her takeover of the United States.

My Beloved, Ava Osorio

TABLE OF CONTENTS Cover and Back Cover Images by Jaina Gonzalez POEMS “Seafoam”, by Yvette Solis

4

“Progression”. by Nicholas Bedoya

6

“Gracias Ama”, by Alondra Bautista

7

“Doubt”, by Anthony Enriquez

8

“Silence”. by Nicholas Bedoya

9

SHORT STORIES “Colors of Courage”, by Yardira Sandoval

10

“Start Over”, by Feisel Miranda

15

“Learning the Hard Way”, by Feisel Miranda

19

“Amber’s Story”. by Leilani Flores

23

“The Train Redemption”, by Guadalupe Navarro “The Incurable”, by Menelik Reason “The Cold Hotel”, by Kathleen Saunders

ART Jay’s Character Sheet by Jaina Gonzalez

28 34 39 44

Dari’s Character Sheet by Jaina Gonzalez

45

“A Watchful Eye”, a comic by Jaina Gonzalez

46

Seafoam

By Yvette Solis Where the sea meets the shore is glittering foam as far as the eye can see Do you know how foam comes to be?

As beautiful as the water is, it'd just as soon swallow you whole Fisherman sing of monsters below and pray to unforgiving gods They fear becoming the delicate foam In the endless blue lies a kingdom of glittering pearl Thousands of treasures from sailors past yet the most precious is the king's daughter She sits on her father's right hand side, But when she looks at the throne all she sees is the bones they built this kingdom on Silent tears flow down her face when she finds the remains of ships She thinks of their families who will never find their bodies, lost on the ocean floor The kingdom loves her, their precious princess But how they laugh at her compassion How naive, they say, to care for monsters She keeps her thoughts of their own monstrosity to herself But she never stops her tears Of course when the sea witch came to her she accepted without a doubt When her head breaks the surface, she wonders how anyone could believe that the things that came from the surface should die Green as far as the eye can see and sand so warm it almost burns The wind caresses her face like a long lost lover and the sweet perfumes of fruits and flowers are more beautiful than any palace There is a palace anyway, of course In the kingdom above the sea, there's a prince who sits at his father's right hand, same as she Is he a traveler, a rebel, a fighter, a thief?

Who he is does not matter in this story What matters most is what he does Actions speak louder than words after all The sea witch took her voice as payment but it had been a price she was willing to pay She had kept silent all her life, what's a little more?

When she went to the palace, the prince told her how beautiful she was Told her how amazing she was Told her he loved her Told her she was to be his bride

4

She had seen the beauty of his world and saw the beauty of him and believed they were one and the same A beautiful world, yes, but what a beautiful lie Dressed in her best, she took to the chapel that day She paused in the doorway as she was not the only one in white A girl smiled to him, bright and beautiful She was a star just like the girl of sea Perhaps he collected stars like her just to watch them burn out She left her shoes at the door to the chapel She wanted to feel the pain as she ran through rocks and rubble As she ran, she passed villages she'd missed on her way in The children were starving, the crops were dying, and tears and dust were streaked across everyone's face Oh, how easily she was blinded by the beauty She should have known that treasures can't hide the bones Perhaps the people back home were right How naive, to believe they weren't monsters too This kingdom was built on blood, just the same as hers Away from the world she went, to the highest point she could find Away from the earth and away from the water Both were just the same Her feet led her to the cliffs, high up in the air One step forward to the ocean below One step back to the dirt of the earth She cried once again and oh how easily the tears came Through the haze of sadness came a voice, not sweet like the flowers, not cold like the water Oh precious one, the voice calls from below, the ocean may be cruel but at least it never lies From the sea you come, and to the sea you return She took a step and the waves welcomed her with open arms When she fell, there was no body left, only the foam Where the sea meets the shore is glittering foam as far as the eye can see.

5

Progression

By Nicholas Bedoya Light shines, eyes open there’s A ringing in the ear, Awaken Life flashes, days go bye, months turn to years Awaken Voices heard, knowledge to ords, the slate is clear Awoken Joyous cheer, no fear, young is a fool Anger Heavy weights, full of hate, years are cruel Anger Chains snap, life’s back, now Free to rule Hunger

Jaina Gonzalez

Doors open, Doors closing, Hands none hold Driven Chances given, spirit striven, Life grows old Driven Time ending, still running, Air’s embrace is cold Silence

Crochet Flower Granny Squares, Damaris Ramirez

6

Gracias Ama

By Alondra Bautista From the start you were there And I'm sorry for all the trouble I made you bare Just a little girl with big dreams Your wings were cut when you accepted that ring Always cooking and cleaning You never allowed to see how much you were grieving Leaving behind your parents to give us the best I will forever be grateful because you are my best friend You never allowed us to get tattoos Yet you feel insecure about the stretch marks under your clothes The ones we created when you carried us with love There's no doubt about it There's nobody who will ever come above

Crochet Rat, Damariz Ramirez

Your tired eyes and forced smiles have always gave me the strength to stride Thank you for your kindness and generosity You’re the reason I'm here... Because you've always looked out for me You have filled me physically, as you have spiritually and lyrically Your logical thinking and wise words pushed us to where we are Gracias Ama for being who you are

Thank you for your dedication I wont think twice about it You will forever be my medication I'm so sorry your dreams were cut down Ever since you put on that white gown I still see that little girl Tired and scared Don't worry Mom.. I will always be here and show you how much I care To my best friend and my everything I am grateful to you Because without you my life would be blue

7

Doubt

By Anthony Enriquez The opportunity to meet a hero doesn't come very often, Especially when having to battle against others to get that opportunity, And I suppose I had been in a similar situation.

Walking in, I knew the very real possibility of seeing them.

However, being able to get past the others would be a different situation, That is until I saw them.

At a distance, I couldn't tell if it was them, Or if my judgment had been clouded by desire.

Nevertheless, I wasn't going to let this possible opportunity get away.

And yet with every step my heart beat faster and time slowed, My eyes exchanged glances between them and the floor.

“Is that really them?”

“They aren't surrounded by others,” “Stop and say something,” The situation I hoped for was in front of me: You Won’t Miss Me, Jaina Gonzalez The opportunity to speak with them uninterrupted by the presence of others.

Even so, a swooning sensation disconnected my mind from my body.

My call to stop remained unheard by my legs' unrelenting advance.

“I can't,” Countless times I had told myself that I’d be able to do it.

Convinced myself I could.

But I grew accustomed more to the idea rather than the action.

As to why I failed, that can not be said.

Timidness, The idea of another opportunity, Or possibly as to not destroy the illusion of what it could be.

I don't know.

8

Silence

By Nicholas Bedoya I long for silence yet fear solitude. I beg for attention and yet stray away in order to not be a nuisance.

I crave for more and more in order not to feel alone and I consider myself selfish for it. I feel only human emotions and still I am inhuman. So much to consider, so many plans, no control, failure is all I know, the voices are all I hear, all I crave is silence. Why can’t I feel content, why can’t I be sure, why can’t I understand why why why? The voices get louder, degrading and belittling me, and all I want is silence. They won't stop screaming, he wont stop dehumanizing, I wont stop… All I want is silence, so I can feel alive.

Only one path leads towards silence, but I’m too scared to do it.

The world is burning me and all I long for is to embrace the cold. The silence is what I desire, the silence is what I need, but in order to hear silence, I’d need to cease. I want silence to enjoy the noise, but all I want is silence, I deserve the silence, I deserve to go cold.

Jaina Gonzalez

9

Colors of Courage

By Yardira Sandoval Pacing back and forth in the kitchen, I wait for the arrival of the one person whose opinion could reshape my entire future. My heart drums against my chest, each beat echoing the words I have practiced for this moment. All of a sudden this kitchen seems too small. The sun dips below the horizon casting a golden color across the kitchen, shadows present across the countertops covered with mail. The front door creaks, breaking the silence of the apartment. My mom makes her way into the kitchen.

“Hey Mom, how is it going? Good day at work? I just got here, you know me, just doing homework, but enough about me. How are you? You know I love you, right?”

Setting her work bag on the countertop, Mom asks, “Why are you acting strange?”

“Just want to know how you are, that's all.”

“Well, my day was fine. Could you go to the store; I'm thinking of making your favorite for dinner?”

“Yeah sure, but I um, actually have to talk to you about something serious.”

“Now that I think of it, I have those ingredients. Just continue with your homework, dinner will be ready by seven.”

“Mom I'm thinking-” “Is your father here yet? Can't believe it, I've told him to stop working overtime.”

“Mom-” “As a matter of fact maybe i'll just do some soup, is that alright for you?”

“OH MY GOSH CAN YOU STOP TALKING FOR ONE FREAKING SECOND?!”

Her head snaps up and eyebrows shoot up, “Excuse me? Claudia, who do you think you are talking to with a tone like that?”

“Artist! I mean- I want to be an artist for my career, specifically a painter.”

“Claudia, you are a sixteen year old Brazilian girl. You don't know what you want.

“Mom you have to hear me out, I've thought about this a lot and-” “We are working constantly, earning money for you! All we do is for you. For you to go to a college and get a stable career and all of a sudden you want to be a painter? Do you know how ignorant and selfish you are acting right now?! I mean, we even picked out a college!”

10

“YOU AND DAD PICKED OUT A COLLEGE! NOT ME!” “Claudia, this is absurd. You're not having a useless job. End of discussion.”

“Look, I'm not asking you for permission. I'm simply just letting you know.”

“Simply?” Mom mocks, “Simply letting me know that you are throwing out your future?

I'm telling you, people like us don't get recognition. You should think before you act, I taught you better than this.”

“Do you not believe I can do it? I'll show you I can before- before college applications even open!”

Without waiting for a response, I go into my room and slam the door. I'll prove to her I can do it. She doesn’t know what she's talking about.

Does my mom even know what she's talking about? I mean, she knows me better than anyone. If she thinks I can't do it, I might not be able to do it. Am I making the right decision?

What if my mom is right? Will I be able to fix our relationship? I wonder if she's told Dad yet.

Seeking help, I find myself in Ms. Alvarez’s studio.

“I want art to be my life, my career,” I admit to her, “but I don't know what I should do to skyrocket my career. How do I make something that no else has made before? That's impossible!

Also I think I have an artist block...? That's a thing right? Out of nowhere! I mean it's probably because of all this pressure now. I don't know if I can do this...”

“Calm down, Claudia. Remember, your art isn't just colors on a canvas. It's your voice, your story, that's the advantage you have. Nobody else is like you, nobody has been through what you've been through.”

“How can I convey a whole story in a small painting?”

Ms. Alvarez's voice echoes in my mind as I stare at the blank canvas, “Start with what moves you. Let your emotions, memories or dreams flow out of you and into the canvas.”

With a deep breath, I dip my brush, each stroke feeling like an attempt to capture untold chapters of my life. Determination fuels my movements, I'm not just painting, I'm fighting.

Fighting against the norm, against the expectations laid out for me. Frustration bubbles as I think of my mother’s disbelief. Yet there is a burning desire to prove myself. With every delicate stroke, I feel as if I'm laying bare my soul, offering a piece of myself to the canvas. My art becomes my voice, defiance, my story. With each passing moment, I realize this canvas is really not just a surface for colors; instead it's a gateway to freedom, a portal into a world where I am accepted.

11

I meet up and tell my friends about my art passion, expecting support but their puzzled expressions let me down, adding up to my already compacted inner conflict. The studio however becomes my safe space, my new best friend. With the help of Ms. Alvarez, I create pictures that resonate not only with myself but to anybody who looks at them. Impatience grows as college application days grow closer but just in time I receive an unexpected invitation to showcase my artwork. Ms. Alvarez must've sent my art pieces to some galleries and one of them accepted it! I can't believe it! As I start thinking about it more, a sudden shot of nervousness takes over me as I realize this moment will either make or break my career. The familial and societal expectations drag me down, and it feels like I'm in a tug of war between my aspirations and the art world’s unspoken rules.

Palms sweating, I walk inside the big intimidating gallery, my knees feeling weak. I spent five hours trying to pick out an outfit. My first thought when I couldn't choose between two was to go to my mother and ask for her opinion- but of course I couldn't do that. This long white dress is really pretty; I remember one time my mom told me it brought out my hazel eyes.

Admiring the building's interior I stumble, I'm not going to lie, it took me a while to figure out how to walk in these white heels and clearly I'm still struggling.

My eyes scan through multiple paintings until I finally find my own. Making my way through the people, I walk towards my painting. As I get closer I notice there are five professionals complimenting my art. I halt and a small smile reaches my lips as I continue listening to their comments. Still entranced I get a tap on my shoulder, then another one, after the third I finally turn.

“That's yours?” my dad asks, standing next to my mom.

Unable to pass words through, I just nod. They both look over my shoulder disapproval being transparent.

“You don't like it,” I say.

My dad responds, “Not exactly. I mean sure a painting of... whatever that is, seems interesting but is this really a job?” With a sympathetic face he continues, “Honey, this is a hobby. You can do art and still work at an actual stable, amazing job! I think- well your mother and I think you being a doctor will be the best decision!”

“For who?” I hiss, “If I don't even want to be a doctor!”

My father can't hide his surprised look, hesitating to say, “Look, we just want what's best for you, trust us you're just having a small art phase.”

12

“Dad, YOU’RE the one that bought my first painting kit when I was seven. This ‘art phase’ is not just gonna dissolve. Can we not have this conversation right now please?”

Mom elbows my dad’s side, probably blaming him for buying me the kit.

She adds, “Look young lady, we can't afford to do all these theatrics. You are going to be a doctor whether you like it or not. Heck, we’ll even let you choose something else, but something that is actually stable, maybe a lawyer?”

“We can talk about this LATER.” I say through gritted teeth. As I go to turn around my mom to grab a hold of my arm.

“Stop talking to me and your father like we aren’t your parents. You are not old enough to make your own decisions! You are leaving with us at this second. Let's go!”

“I'm not leaving anywhere!” I pull my arm away, “I want to do this! Can't you understand? Can you not trust that I'm making the right decision for ME?” A security guard approaches and tells us we have to leave. As we get escorted out, embarrassment clouds over me as I see hushed whispers taking place around us. I look in the direction of my painting and the five professionals look at me shaking their heads in disapproval of my actions.

Stepping out into the chilly night air; a cold breeze passes through, sharpening the sting in my eyes. I tell myself not to cry, my words tangled in frustration and hurt finally find their way out of me.

“Oh I see what's happening. You came over to the gallery knowing how important it is to me and ruined it. YOU RUINED IT. I may never have this opportunity again! My whole art career is in jeopardy because of this!” tears drop down my cheeks I shout, “ARE YOU PROUD OF YOURSELF? DO YOU WANT A PRIZE FOR CRUSHING YOUR DAUGHTER’S DREAM?! BECAUSE YOU DID IT! MY GOD DID YOU EXECUTE IT WELL! I'VE DONE EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE YOU HAVE ASKED FOR AND WHEN I ASK FOR SOMETHING, ONCE, JUST ONCE YOU DISAPPROVE? HOW IS THIS FAIR?!”

My parents grow speechless. With nothing left to say I angrily wipe my tears away, turn on my heels and start walking home.

“You can't walk home at this time of day!” my mom screamed out.

“Watch me.” I say with a confident voice while my insides are pouring.

I can't believe all this. It's like I've chosen art instead of my parents. How can they not see how much this means to me? Why can't they just accept me for who I am? I finally found something I'm passionate about. Why can't they just believe in me?!

13

Lost in a whirlwind of emotions, I find myself in front of Ms. Alvarez’s studio. With shaking hands I grab the handle as I let out a big breath. Scanning through the room I see her working on her laptop at her desk. As soon as she sees my face, her eyes soften; closing the laptop she stands up and comes to me with big open arms.

“I didn't know where to go,” I manage to say between sobs, my voice breaking with every word. In her embrace I find myself understood. My tears subside and she leads me to a seat, as I tell her what happened.

In her sweet voice she says, “Claudia, sometimes we have to make difficult choices that don't align with our loved ones. It's painful but it's in these moments where we are able to discover our true selves.”

“I just don't know if I can do all this without my parents,” I admit.

“It will be hard,” she says, “but I think you are more than capable, you can do anything you put your mind to. You'll learn to not have the need for other’s validation and sometimes that's what you have to keep in mind when creating your pieces as well. Your feelings matter too, and I hope your parents will come to this reality and are able to understand and support you one day. You have to have faith, love.”

“Okay,” I mutter, “but how am I going to apply to colleges? Decide if I want to move for college? Who will help me with-” “Calm down, take deep breaths. Something key to remember, take it a day at a time.

We’ll get to tomorrow when it comes,” With a slight smile she adds, “I happen to know a thing or two about majoring in art, I can help you with anything too. I'll tell you what, I know college applications open tomorrow evening. What do you say we work on them tomorrow Saturday morning? You up for it?”

“Yeah,” I stand from my seat and give Ms. Alvarez another big hug, “thank you for everything. Your support means more than you know.”

Jaina Gonzalez

14

Start Over

By Fiedel Miranda After school, I followed him home; I needed to know. When I saw him stopping, I hid behind a tree. I thought I heard him mumbling something. All of a sudden, a portal opened.

He went inside and turned around, and with a little glimpse, we locked eyes, and I ran as fast as possible out of the woods. I can't get it out of my head. What was that?

Not that long ago, I decided to move back with my dad to the US. I unpacked pretty quickly, and I started a new year at a new school. I'm not going to lie, when I was getting ready to go to school, I couldn't stop shaking and sweating at first. Back in Argentina, I took English classes, but I still had an accent. I didn't really know who to hang out with since I didn't know much about anyone. When trying to find my locker at the end of the day, I noticed this kid who I knew was also fairly new to the school standing right next to me. That's when I met Nick. I think he saw me staring that day, because he said something.

“Hey, you're the new girl, right?” he asked, “You know you’ve been here for only one day, and you're the talk of the whole school. I'm Nick, by the way.”

“I’m Emma, nice to meet you.” I smiled faintly, then looked down.

Meeting Nick was different. I never really had anyone to talk to back over in Argentina.

Everyone just wanted to hang out with me because of my mom’s money, and I didn't really care because honestly I just wanted friends. But with Nick, I knew he was being genuine.

That day he walked me home. We talked the whole way. He told me all about each “group” at school and who not to hang out with and all that. We got to know each other really well. Ever since then, we have grown very close. Everything was great. That was, until I noticed that he had been acting very strangely.

He had been missing school a lot and constantly making weird excuses. That was when I planned to follow him home. I know that's pretty creepy, but I just wanted to make sure he was okay. That was the day I saw him going somewhere else. After seeing that, I went home and just laid down on my bed. I was thinking of all kinds of possibilities. Who actually is he?

15

“Are you going to explain what I saw?” I asked him.

“Yes but I'm trying to find the right words. Look, you can't freak out okay. I need you to stay calm, but first we need to go far away from here.”

We were now back in the forest. Even though we were kind of isolated, I felt that I could trust him. He stood in the same spot I saw him the previous day.

“There's no point in hiding it anymore. Look, I'm not necessarily human. I come from a whole other world, but switch from there to this world.” He said. “I can take you if you'd like” I just looked him straight in the eyes. I didn't know how to react to what he had just told me. His words were just repeating over and over again in my head. Now I was even more shocked. And he said I could see what his world was? He chanted something and it opened up that portal again. He reached out for my hand.

“I won't be keeping secrets from you anymore. I promise,” he said insistently.

I took his hand, leaving all my other thoughts behind. I took a deep breath, and we both stepped through to the portal. It was different. We entered a forest not the same forest form before. This forest had these big, beautiful green trees with specks of gold on them. Sunlight filtered through their leaves, highlighting the flowers covering the entire forest floor. We walked out of the shade into the light and entered this small town. The town was filled with bright, vibrant colors. It looked perfect. There were small beautiful cottages that had this magical glow to them. There were many kids playing on the front lawns and riding what seemed like bikes, but different. There were other technologies that I didn’t recognize. Everyone was happy. It was like this perfect place. I saw that even the plants would come to life and help and interact with kids and their parents and they just had this bubbly personality. There was a new surprise everywhere I looked. It was magical. After a small walk around town, we headed over to one particular house.

“Okay don't freak out, but my parents are here. They are going to ask many questions, but don't worry, just leave it to me,” he quickly said.

I just nodded and followed him in. I don't know what I was expecting, but definitely not what I saw inside. A huge breeze of spices filled my nose. The whole house was surrounded with plants and moving pictures. It was way bigger inside than how it looked on the outside. It was beautiful. I inhaled deeply as we walked to see his parents, it smelled wonderful. We were greeted by Nick's mother first. She was a super sweet lady, with such a kind soul. His father greeted me as well. He was warm towards me and had a protective aura that just made you feel safe around him. Nick was right, they were asking many questions, but he easily brushed them off. He took me to the kitchen, where the rest of his family was. Nick introduced me to everyone.

Everyone was super nice. I don't know why, but I was expecting something different.

Nick was showing me around the house a little bit more. I got to see his room, and his whole room was filled with posters of bands and pictures of New York. He had this whole vision board of traveling around the world. He barely had anything from his world. It looked just like my room. We sat down on his bed.

16

“How come you don't have some of those cool moving pictures in here?” I asked him.

“I've been living here my whole life, but I want to experience something different. I dream of traveling all around your world; it has been my dream since I was a little boy,” He said enthusiastically.

After a couple of minutes his mom called us down to eat. Thank god she did, because I was starving. When we went back down, the dining table was so elegantly organized with such delicious food. Before I could even get near the table, the lights suddenly turned off. The whole room was pitch black, but you could hear some movement around the room.

“Guys what's going on? Is everything okay?” I stuttered.

There was no answer, just a quietness that filled the room. There were some little whispers, but nothing that I could catch. All of a sudden, I felt hands grabbing me and dragging across the floor. I struggled so hard to get out, and eventually they faltered and I could have tried to escape, but I didn't know what to do. Then I felt something right next to me.

“I’m really sorry” a voice whispered into my ear, I instantly knew it was Nick.

All of a sudden, they stopped dragging me and let me go. When I tried to get up and run, I bumped into a wall. The lights turned on and I noticed I was in this old creepy room. No one was inside. I desperately called for help, but of course there was no one. I stayed there for a couple of hours, just crying and trying to open the door. Nick’s betrayal was like a knife in my back. I gave up and just sat in the corner. That was when the door opened. Nick walked in.

“Emma, look you can't leave, and I’m really sorry,” Nick pleaded, his voice with desperation.

“You lied to me Nick! You used me to fulfill your dreams, but I have a life and I have my family!” I screamed at him.

With that, he left the room. I was stuck in that room for what seemed like forever. But I noticed the room had gotten colder but wasn't sure where it was coming from. Until I looked up and saw the vent. I made a plan. Getting up was quite a problem, but I did it. I crawled through that vent for so long. I wasn't sure where it was leading, but I didn't care as long as I could leave.

The vent took me to a basement where I got out of the house. I ran as fast as possible. I tried to find my way back to the forest, where the portal was. I was hoping that no one would see me. But even though it's a small town, there's someone who is always watching.

17

I found my way back to the forest. Everything was great. All I needed to do was say the chant again to open up the portal. The portal was now open. I ran to the front of the portal, ready to step back in. That was when someone dropped me to the ground. I quickly got up and ran inside of the portal. The weight of that stress was lifted from my shoulders, replaced by a sense of freedom. I was finally back. As I glanced back at the fading portal, I knew that I had found the courage to face the unknown.

As I got back home. My dad yelled for me. I made up this random excuse on why I was late, and I got away with it. After this very crazy day, I still had to go to school the next morning.

But after that event, it was as if everything changed. Of course, there's always something that has to happen. When I went to get my history book from my locker, already waiting there was Nick.

It wasn't over just yet.

Des Dominguez

Jaina Gonzalez

18

Learning the Hard Way

By Fiedel Miranda I panicked and ran. I sprinted full speed across the street, cars honked and swerved to avoid hitting me. My heart pounded in my chest and my vision began to tunnel. I could hear someone yelling behind me but I couldn’t make out what was being said. My heart was too loud in my ears. I saw a bus making a stop down the block, so I sprinted towards that. I entered through the back door despite not knowing where it was headed and never looked back.

It was a Saturday afternoon. My sister and I were at my uncle's apartment. He lived uptown in Kingsbridge, on west 195th Street near the station. We were from Fordham, which was not so far away. We often took the train on weekends to go visit him.

The apartment was somewhat big. It had four rooms: two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. My sister, my uncle, and I were in the living room watching a basketball game. The Knicks were playing the Hornets. Part of the reason we enjoyed being at our uncle’s place so much is that our mother had stopped paying for cable television two years ago, and so we had to come here if we wanted to watch TV. My uncle reminded us many times that the only reason he still had a cable subscription was because of us. He would say, “I hope you know that I would have stopped paying for this nonsense too if you guys didn’t like it so much.”

I didn’t believe this, because my uncle would watch TV regularly. Not to say he was lazy, my uncle was one of the hardest-working people I knew. He worked twelve-hour shifts on weekdays as a construction worker. For most people, construction work would take a toll on your body, and cause you to age faster. But my uncle looked just his age, if not younger. He had just turned 22 a couple of weeks ago. He had cornrow braids, and the sides of his head were tapered.

He was about 6 feet 6 inches tall and probably around 260 to 270 pounds. He played basketball and football in high school. He claims he could have gone pro if he hadn't dropped out in the eleventh grade. He told me, "Why did you drop out then?"

"I wanted to start working. I thought that I could make more money that way. Might be the dumbest decision I ever made. Make sure you stay in school, man.” He paused after saying that, and then he said "Jamari didn't stay in school, look what happened to him."

19

Jamari was my older brother. He got locked up last February for possession of marijuana with intent to sell, and then again three months later for illegal possession of a firearm. He moved into our uncle's place before he dropped out and got arrested. This caused our mother to blame our uncle for his arrest. She mentioned it every time my sister and I told her we were going over to his place. Jamari was also convinced that somehow our uncle was responsible for his arrest. When my sister my mother and I went to visit him after he was arrested the first time, he said to me, "Ay, be careful with Unc man. He'll get you caught up in something you can't escape. Just look at me. I had to learn that the hard way." I nodded my head like I understood, but I only did that to make him feel better. My uncle had never done anything that led me to believe he wasn't an honest person. As much as I wanted to believe that Jamari's arrest wasn't his fault, the reality is he is the only person to blame.

The game was almost over, and both my uncle and sister had fallen asleep on the couch. I felt like going outside, so I grabbed my basketball from my backpack and grabbed a water from the kitchen. I left the house through the back door and headed to a park that was a few blocks away. When I got there I saw some of the kids I knew from the neighborhood. I walked over to them, and as I approached I heard one of them, Chris, say, "Is that Jamar?"

"It is!" said another kid named Dee. "What's up man. I haven't seen you for a while."

"Good to see you guys too," I said. "Let me hop in this next game?" They said sure, and the three of us started playing a game called twenty-one.

It was almost dark outside when Chris swished in a three-pointer to end the game. I ran over to where I left my stuff and checked my phone. The time read six-o-two. I collected my things and prepared to leave. When I looked over at my friends, I was surprised to see that two police officers were talking to them. I decided to watch them from a distance. One of them seemed to be asking them questions while pointing to a picture the other one was holding. Chris and Dee did not say a word. The officers, seemingly frustrated, walked up to a different group of people to do the same thing they had just done to Chris and Dee. I waited to make sure they weren’t coming back before I ran over to my friends. They both looked stunned and before I could get a chance to ask them what had happened, Dee said, "Yo, your unc is the tall guy with the braids right?" I nodded my head in response. Chris and Dee looked at each other, then finally Dee said, "I think he's the guy they're looking for.," he said while pointing to the officer.

"Did they say why?" I asked.

"No."

20

Nobody said anything. I tried to calm myself down, but I couldn't stop assuming the worst. I mumbled a goodbye to my friends and started walking home. I could hear them asking me questions, but I did not answer. I started walking faster. I checked the time again. It said six-o-five. I started running. I ran all the way to 195th Street. I made a left turn onto the street my uncle lived on. I could hear sirens in the distance. As I kept running towards the apartment the sirens got louder and louder.

When my uncle's apartment was finally in view, I was terrified by what I saw. There were at least six police cars at the front door. My uncle was being dragged out of his home by three officers. I could hear my sister screaming inside. I was so shocked I couldn't even move. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an officer staring at me. I recognized him from the park. We locked eyes for a few brief seconds. Then he began to approach me.

I panicked and ran. I sprinted full speed across the street, cars honked and swerved to avoid hitting me. My heart was pounding in my chest and my vision began to tunnel. I could hear some yelling behind me but I couldn’t make out what was being said. My heart was too loud in my ears. I saw a bus making a stop down the block, so I sprinted towards it. I entered through the back door despite not knowing where it was headed and never looked back.

I took a seat on the bus and caught my breath, my whole body drenched with sweat. I could still hear the sirens ringing in my ears. I sat there processing what had happened. After about 30 seconds, I decided that there must have been some misunderstanding. I refused to believe my uncle had done anything wrong. I also couldn't decide what made me run. I had done nothing wrong, and running just made me look suspicious for no reason. "I should have stayed, to help my sister," I thought. Then I remembered what Jamari had said to me the last time I saw him. Something about how he had to learn not to trust our uncle the hard way. At the time I had no idea what he was talking about, but now I figured he might know why our uncle was arrested.

I needed to talk to him, but I couldn't go visit him in jail. I decided to go home and try to explain everything to my mom and see if she knew what to do. Luckily, almost as if god had heard my thoughts, this bus was headed to Fordham.

I got off about fifteen minutes later and then walked about another three minutes to our apartment complex. I used my keys to get in, then ran up the stairs to my mom's apartment. I started rapidly knocking on the door. My mom answered. Before I could say anything I needed to, she embraced me with a hug. I hugged her back but was surprised to hear another set of footsteps approaching the door. This time, it was my sister. Her eyes were still red from crying. I was so shocked to see her that for a moment I forgot that I needed to explain to Mom what happened. Again, before I could say anything, my mom said, "Come inside, Jamar." I entered the apartment and was again shocked by another set of footsteps coming from the living room. These were heavier, and I could tell they belonged to a man. I thought, "Could it be my uncle?". Then I heard a deep yet familiar voice say, "What's up, bro." just as the man left the living room and came into view. I was stunned.

It was Jamari!

21

I was too stunned to speak. I completely forgot about anything I was going to say before entering the apartment.

"Come, sit down," said my mom. We all entered the living room and sat on the couch.

Before I could even ask a question, Jamari started explaining everything.

"It was Unc's fault I got arrested in the first place. The weed and the gun were both his.

The thing was I was a kid, and kids get in less trouble with the cops for those types of things. So when he found out the police were gonna come looking for his weed and gun, he tricked me into thinking the right thing to do was to hold onto them so he couldn't get caught. He promised me that I wouldn't get searched. And I trusted him enough that I agreed. Then 'bout a week later, they caught me at school with the weed and caught me again at the park three months later with the gun. I didn't learn the first time, so the second time I had to learn the hard way." He smirked after saying that. "I pleaded guilty to the charges both times, so there wasn't much of a trial. That was until some detectives noticed how sketchy both of my cases were and decided to investigate.

Didn't take them too long to find Unc’s fingerprints and DNA on the evidence for both cases.

That was earlier this week. I guess today they finally got a warrant or something and came to arrest him. As for me, they dropped all my charges due to 'lack of evidence'."

I took a moment to digest what I had heard. Just a moment ago, I would have never thought that there was any possibility Unc had done anything at all. I felt betrayed. How much longer until he would have tried something with me or my sister? I was putting too much trust into someone I didn't know all that well. I won't make that mistake again.

As for my uncle, I doubt he was getting out anytime soon. It's funny how your actions always catch up with you in the end. I guess Unc had to learn that the hard way.

Des Dominguez

Jaina Gonzalez

22

Surviving the Unknown: Amber’s Story

By Leilani Flores Lost in an adventure, I found myself alone in a forest at night, going up against the unknown. To tell this story well, let's go back to where my adventure started, and how the events of the night made me stronger than I was before.

Hi there! It's Amber Anderson from Lockwood High! I'm 16 and absolutely love going on adventures with my best friend, Alex. Our adventures always lead to the most amazing discoveries. Whether it's finding hidden spots in our town or coming across an interesting story in a book, every moment is an adventure. Speaking of books, fiction is my absolute favorite genre. And let's not forget about my other passion, drawing! In my free time, you'll often find me with a sketchbook in hand, bringing my imagination, and things I find on my adventures to life on paper. One afternoon, I was drawing in my room in my sketchbook, feeling the need for something exciting to happen.

"Hey, Alex! Want to go to the forest for an adventure and camping later tonight?" I suggested.

Alex, always up for a good time, replied, "Adventure? And Camping? Absolutely! What's the plan, Amber?"

As I told him what we would be doing, we packed up supplies we would need for the night, and once we finished we set off for an overnight camping adventure in the forest. The idea of exploring the unknown and finding hidden wonders made me excited about what we could possibly find. As we entered the woods, the orange like sun was setting behind us.

"This place is amazing, Amber! What do you think we'll find?" Alex asked, the excitement clear in his voice.

"Maybe a secret cave! Who knows? That's what makes it fun," I said as I looked into the trees in front of me.

The further we went, the darker it got, and our laughter mixed with the sounds of the night.

"What's next, Amber?" Alex asked, as he noticed the mischievous look in my eyes.

"Night exploration! Camp here, and we'll find a lot of things by sunrise," I suggested, telling him my plan.

23

Little did I know that our night in the woods was about to become an adventure beyond my wildest dreams. As darkness settled in, our flashlights cut through the shadows in the forest as we ventured deeper into the woods. The rustling leaves and distant hoots of owls created a melody that heightened the thrill of our nighttime adventure.

"What was that?" Alex whispered, the crunch of leaves under us, making him jump.

"Just an animal, probably a raccoon. Nothing to worry about," I reassured him, though the forest seemed to close in around us. Our flashlights illuminating over tree roots and twisted branches, creating shapes that seemed to move with each gust of wind.

"This is amazing, Amber! But, uh, I didn't sign up for a horror movie night," he joked, trying to hide the fact that he was nervous.

“Don't be nervous, Alex.” I said, trying to reassure him.

“What's the worst that could happen?” I joked, not knowing what was about to happen.

“Don't jinx it Amber!” He yelled, still nervous of being out in the dark forest.

My food suddenly caught on a rock, and I stumbled down a hill, with him calling out after me.

"Amber, are you okay? I told you to not jinx it!"\ "Yeah, just a little fall. No big deal!"

I brushed off the leaves on top of me. Little did I realize that this small fall would change our plans for the night. As I reached the bottom of the hill, I looked around, only to realize that Alex was nowhere to be seen. The forest, which was once a familiar place, now felt strange and unfamiliar. I had never seen this part of the forest before.

"Alex! Where are you?" I called out, my voice echoing through the trees that surrounded me.

As I called out for Alex, I got a sense of unease. The forest had morphed into a maze of shadows, and the darkness surrounded me in every direction. I turned on my flashlight, desperately hoping I could find Alex, or any way out of this maze of darkness.

With each step I took, the forest became darker, and the trees seemed to close in, making it difficult to see my surroundings. As I walked further, I realized I was lost. The forest, with its twisting maze-like paths and hidden trails, had gotten me lost. I started panicking, but I couldn't let fear decide my actions. I took a deep breath, attempting to calm down.

"Okay, Amber, think. Alex must be nearby. Maybe he went in a different direction," I whispered to myself, my words barely audible in the loud silence of the forest.

24

I retraced my steps, or what I thought were my steps, stumbling over uneven ground and occasionally tripping over rocks or twigs on the ground.

"Alex!" I called once more, I was desperate to hear any response from him.

The realization that I was alone in the dark made me even more afraid. With each passing minute, I lost hope that I would ever find him.

"Okay, Amber, don't panic. Alex is smart, at times... but he'll find his way back to the campsite," I reassured myself, although I was uncertain.

I continued to navigate through the forest, my fear continued to grow, and every rustle in the bushes made me jump.

Suddenly my flashlight stopped working, “Oh no. This can't be happening! Not now!”

I was now all alone, with no flashlight, and to make matters even worse, I was completely lost.

“I hope Alex is safe,” I whispered. I was scared, alone, and helpless without any food or water. As time passed, all I could do was hope that I would find Alex soon, or that I would find the campsite and finally escape this nightmare. Without my flashlight, I didn't know where I was going. It was too dark to see anything.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” I tried calling out to see if anyone would respond, but I should've known it would be of no use.

"Why would anyone even be out here in the forest at night? Other than me and Alex, no one in our city has been stupid enough to go explore a forest at night!” I told myself, questioning why we even decided to do this in the first place.

It was my fault that I was in this situation and with each passing minute, I started getting tired. At this point, I didn't know if I would ever make it out of this maze, or if I would ever find Alex.

“This is helpless, I'm pretty sure I've been walking in circles for hours!”

Suddenly, I came across a cave, it was the perfect place to rest for a little while, at least until I get some of my energy back so I can continue searching for him, or the campsite.

Suddenly, I heard something move behind me.

“Is anyone there?” I asked, hoping that it was another person who would help me get out of here, but I should've known that it couldn't have been a person.

Fear struck me as I turned around to see a brown bear, twice my size, and It was sleeping in this same cave that I am standing in right now, and I had woken it up... I couldn't move. I was frozen in fear. There weren't many things that I was afraid of, but bears have always terrified me.

25

The bear got up slowly, growling, as it looked me right in the eyes. As the bear continued to growl, I realized that any sudden movement could trigger it. My heart pounded in my chest, echoing in the cave like a drumbeat of panic. I carefully took a step back, trying not to provoke the massive bear.

Suddenly, the bear stood on its hind legs, towering over me. My mind raced, searching for any knowledge about what to do in a bear encounter. I recalled that my teacher, Mr. Fernandez, had told us that for some bears, playing dead was the most recommended strategy, but this was a brown bear, known for being more aggressive than any other bear. Panic rushed through me as I thought about my options.

The bear took a step forward, and I immediately dropped to the ground, curling into a ball with my hands protecting the back of my neck. The cave's cold floor pressed against my cheek as I waited, holding my breath.

Seconds felt like an eternity, and I dared not open my eyes in fear that the bear could see me move. The sound of the bear's heavy breathing and the echo of its movements filled the cave.

Eventually, the growls disappeared, replaced by the rustling of the bear moving away.

I cautiously opened my eyes to find the bear exiting the cave, disappearing into the darkness of the forest. Relief rushed over me, but the reality of my situation remained. I was still lost, alone, and now facing the challenge of navigating the forest without a flashlight. And the bear was also still loose, roaming around here.

Gathering what courage and energy remained, I walked out of the cave, using the moon's dim light to guide me through the trees. Every rustle of leaves made me jump, fearing another encounter with a bear, or something even worse. The forest seemed to play tricks on my senses as shadows danced around, creating imaginary threats. I couldn’t speak anymore, I was terrified that the bear could come back and find me again at any moment if I made a sound.

Despite the fear, determination fueled my steps. I continued walking and once I was far away from the cave, I got the courage to continue to call out for Alex, still scared but hoping that he would hear me or that I would stumble upon the campsite and finally escape this nightmare.

The night went on, and I was exhausted.

“Alex! Where are you!? Please answer me!” I continued to call out, I had little to no hope left of ever finding him. I had been walking for hours, and there had been no sign of him or the campsite.

As dawn approached, I found a clearing, illuminated by the sunrise. A wave of relief swept over me as I spotted our campsite. There, in the shelter we had built, was Alex, who was just waking up.

"Amber! Where have you been?" Alex exclaimed, his tired eyes widening as he saw the messy and exhausted state I was in.

26

I collapsed next to him, telling him what I had gone through and the encounter with the bear.

“Next time I say, Night Time exploration, please talk me out of it.” I jokingly said.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try, but you don’t always listen.” He said while laughing.

As we gathered our belongings, I couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and fear. The forest, once a place that I loved exploring, now was a place I never wanted to see again. I may come back, but not anytime soon.

That adventure tested my limits and strengths, but I’m glad to have survived it. That encounter with the bear and everything else that had happened that night, made me stronger. If I could survive that, I can survive anything.

Jaina Gonzalez

Ava Osorio

27

The Train Redemption

By Guadalupe Navarro My name is Arthur Raleigh. Since I was a kid I have been on my own, and I had no parent figure or anything like that. My mom died soon after I turned three years old. My dad, that bastard, would always beat her up even when she was suffering and rotting on her bed. There was nothing I could do about it but even to this day I clench my fist in rage every time he comes to my mind.

“You have to learn how to survive boy; I can't be looking out for you much longer,” My dad said.

When I turned four, he decided he did not want to deal with me anymore. So he did the easiest thing, to leave me in the streets of a town named Valentine in the northwest of the U.S. Luckily I had a place to live; I lived in an orphanage until I turned ten years old. My stomach was my best friend, and I had to figure out a way to eat. That is how I got into this stuff of stealing and killing. I started by stealing from the stores around strawberry, and then robberies throughout the west. My first robbery was just an apple, but overtime I became a better thief. It did not take long until I got caught and somehow that bastard of a sheriff decided that I deserved to get my neck hanged.

I only stole food and a bit of money, around five dollars. But somehow I was gonna get hanged, I thought it was over and that anytime they could pull the lever. But when I was about to get hanged, one of the sheriffs got shot in the head, then the other sheriff was also shot. Next a weird looking guy came close to me and cut the rope that was gonna hang me. This was so long ago but it still lives in my memory. I was then put on the back of a horse and taken to the camp of these guys.

“Who are you guys?” I said, while shaking.

“My name is Trewlany, and we decided that it would be good to save you. This other guy to my side is John, what is your name kid?”

“My name is Arthur Raleigh- but why did you guys save me?”

“I am founding this gang and we need more people to be in it, so, let me ask you. Will you join our gang? And do not worry if you decide not to, you can just walk away.”

“Honestly there is no other place I have to go, and those bastards in strawberry will hang me if I even come close. Sure, I will join your gang, Trelawny.”

28

And this is how I ended up here, in a gang being a wanted outlaw. It has been twenty years now and I can say that I have improved a lot since then. John, that bastard is great, he is one of my closest friends. He is not really sharp with guns but he is not as dumb as he seems.

Trelawny is the leader and I am not saying he is bad with guns because he is great. But what most stands out about him is his great intelligence and plan making. Doryan is also a part of the gang that fellow has been with us for a long time. He is surely dumb but he can fight and he is not as bad as he seems. Sally is the only girl in the gang. She is very smart and knows medicine very well. She is not strong or extremely good with guns but she can shoot.

“Arthur, let's get going and stop writing in that journal of yours, would you?”

“I was about to finish! Why don't you get your nose out of my damn business, Michael.”

I forgot about this bastard, Michael recently joined us after he saved Trelawny's life in a saloon. No one in the gang likes him but somehow Trelawny really trusts him. I have to admit he is sharp with guns and is also the butcher of the gang. He is truly a crazy bastard and he also has the same name that my dad had so that is a bad sign already.

“Let's get going then Arthur, we need to get the explosives to blow the tracks and quick. I will ask Trelawny where the camp that we are gonna attack is.”

The simple thought of having to work with this rat made me sick. I do not know what but something told me that he was a rat. Ever since he joined the gang, everything has been worse.

Now we are being chased by the law. Michael thought it was a good idea to rob a really rich, powerful, fellow, and now he contracted some private lawmen to chase us until they kill all of us.

Blue Medal is the name of the company who legally chases and kills outlaws since the state law seems to not be capable. It is expensive but if you want some crazy bastards like us dead then it is a good idea.

“Arthur! You and Michael need to hurry and get the explosives so we can rob the train; you know that my plans will work. I just need you guys to have faith in me. This is the plan: you guys are gonna rob a wagon full of explosives which we are going to use to rob the train and then leave for another country,” said Trelawny.

So we headed out to the usual route that the explosives wagon follows. Michael and I would wait for the wagon and then rob the explosives but as always this bastard wanted to cause more problems than wanted.

“Arthur, let's kill them slowly so that we can have fun.”

“Are you crazy? We just knock them out or tie them quickly, then you take the wagon and I can take our horses back to camp.”

“Why do you always make things so boring? I will just do it my own way.”

29

“Fine then if you want to waste your time and get us caught then go ahead i'll focus on the wagon.”

The wagon came by and before I could react Michael shot both of them in the head killing them for no reason. That bastard was crazy but we could not afford to get caught so I took the wagon and headed back to camp.

“Trelawny we got the explosives, we are ready to rob the train.”

“Perfect Arthur but, where is Michael?”

“That bastard got mad because I did not let him torture the wagon drivers so he probably went to kill some people. That will get us caught but you are the one who decided to trust him.”

“Arthur, everything is gonna be fine; we will not be caught by the Blue Medal.”

Hopefully that was true but it seemed like it wasn’t. Michael came back covered in sweat running from something or someone “Arthur, John, Trelawny, Doryan, we all have a problem. The Blue Medal found me and now they are coming to camp.”

“Sure, ever since you are in this gang everything has been going wrong,” said Doryan.

“Yeah and coincidentally every problem is connected to you Michael,” said John.

Now we have to shoot our guns if we want to get alive out of there. I have been doing this all my life and I do not doubt killing. Even though I always wonder if I am doing the right thing and if my mom would show her teeth if she knew I was messing people's lives. She died when I was very young so I can barely remember most things about her. She did not want me to be an outlaw like my dad and spend my life running from an inevitable faith. At least that is what she told me when I was very little and somehow I ended up doing exactly the opposite. I was zoning out and when I realized we were all getting shot by a group of at least twenty guys from Blue Medal. It was five of us against twenty since Sally was not in camp at the moment.

Everyone was shooting their guns and looking for coverage. I managed to shoot three of them at the same time but it was not easy to win.

“Arthur, I need some help over here!” Doryan said.

I tried to quickly go help Doryan who was surrounded by five Blue Medal agents. I went as quickly as possible to the other side of our camp but I got there too late. I shot two of the Blue Medal agents and rushed to look at Doryan who was on the floor bleeding.

“Doryan! Breathe there are no more agents. We killed them all and Sally will be back soon to heal you.”

30

All my words did not have any meaning since he could not hear me anymore. He was shot in the head and instantly died there. A member of the gang had not died since Holdstead died in that damn bank heist, so I went back to reunite with the group.

“Trelawny! Doryan is dead, now what? Who is gonna die next? This damn rat went on a genocide and brought the agents on us and now what are we gonna do,” said Arthur.

“Relax, Arthur, the boy was useless. We have to get out of here before we get lawmen on us,” said Michael.

“Sorry Arthur but Michael is right, we have to get out of here. I am sorry for Doryan but we cannot look back. Michael did a mistake and we will get out of this.” said Trelawny “Why are you always defending this damn rat? Every single time that he plans something it goes wrong. I have been with you since you saved me almost 20 years ago. John, Sally and I are the ones left now, who is gonna be next?” said Arthur.

“Arthur, we will talk about this later just have some damn faith in me. Michael and I are gonna go look for Sally. You and John are going to get ready for the train.”

I could not believe that Trelawny was acting like this. I always considered him like a father. I loved this gang because we were not just some killers. We robbed rich people and never hurt innocent people. We were not all good and I am not all good. I have done things that I am not proud of, but our gang was not like that. Smith and Holdstead both were killed in that bank heist. I miss them all the time and wonder why such things happened to them. They were the part of the gang that least hurt anyone. Smith would be the butcher and Holdstead was the accountant of the gang and both were killed in horrible ways. I guess you don't get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you. It is weird how much Trelawny has changed to the point where now he kills anything that opposes him and only cares about money and his own benefit.

“Arthur! The train is coming, focus,” said John.

I had zoned out thinking about all my damn thoughts. I quickly put the dynamite on the train tracks and timed perfectly for the train to get blown. The train was blown, John and I took care of the driver and then headed to the wagons. One by one we stole the gold bars and money that was in all of the 10 wagons. I kept moving towards the next wagon when a security guard from the wagon jumped me. I had to draw my gun fast enough so that I would survive. Quickly I shot the guard in the head and I kept moving towards the next wagon. One of the wagons was like a big box made out of steel. When I entered there were a bunch of kids on top of each other with ripped clothes and in a bad state.

“What are you fellows doing here?”

“We are being moved to an orphanage, our parents were all killed or left us.”

31

I could not avoid thinking that those boys are in a situation that I once was in. But why are they transporting kids with gold? That did not sound good to me so I reunited with John and told him about it.

“John, there are kids on this train.”

“What? Why would they transport kids on this train? I am sure Trelawny and the guys are close to coming to the train.”

Sooner than later Trelawny got to the train and we explained the situation.

“They never transport goods and people together. John let me see those gold bars for a minute please... guys these gold bars are fake,” said Trelawny.

“Fake? We were set up, what is the plan now Trelawny?” said John.

“We have to get out of here, there are lawmen and Blue Medal agents coming.”

I was ready to leave but then I remembered the kids that were in that steel wagon.

“Trelawny, there are kids in that wagon if we do not take them out of there they are going to be killed. You know how the Blue Medal is to get information about us.”

“Sorry Arthur, I know that you would like to help them but we have to let them get tortured or killed. Whatever it might be, we have no time.”

And that is how Trelawny took off riding his horse and everyone in the gang followed them besides John.

“Arthur, I will help you to get those kids free.”

Me and John took our guns out and shot every agent and lawmen that would try to hurt the kids. I would like to say that the law is fair but they just do not care and many of them are not so different from what Michael is. Even Trelawny is now turning to this bastard who does not care about killing some innocent kids if that means he gets some benefit from it. The agents were now using the kids as bait for us to fall in the trap and be captured. Killing kids to catch some criminals is a very dirty strategy, something that only Blue Medal would do. We managed to free all the kids from the wagons or at first that is what we thought. There was one more wagon full of kids where I headed to.

“Arthur Raleigh and John Mars, If you both don't get out of that train with your hands where I can see them we will have to blow up the train,” said agent Adam “But if you blow up the train you will also kill every kid in this wagon,” said John

32

“That is not my problem, once again, if you both do not come out with your hands up I will blow up the train. I am feeling nice today so I will give you a deal, only one of you has to come out and we will spare the children's lives.”

Now I was in a really big problem, should we both go out? Should we try to escape and let the kids die? I do not know what to do and I would not like to die but killing these many kids for my selfish desires. I wonder if my life is worth more than the life of those kids and I look back to those times in the gang before Michael. But those times do not exist anymore so If I look back, do I really have anything left? I have the chance to for once, do something good.

“John, leave. I will stay here and hurry up.”

“But Arthur there must be a way we both can still get out of this.”

“Not everyone can get out this time, John unfortunately I will stay here. Also you still have something left, your family. The gang was my life and now that Trelawny has changed there is no point in me staying in the gang.”

“Thank you Arthur, you know you are my brother.”

John left and the only thing I had left to do was come out and spend most of my life in jail. I thought that I was gonna be arrested but when I came out I had no chance to even react. I was shot by all the agents in every place of my body. I could not feel my body and I had holes everywhere. My vision was blurry and the last thing I saw was the sky while I was falling on my back. I guess I could not expect good things to happen to me, but at least I did something good.

For once in my life I made my own decision, and did something good for someone else.

Des Dominguez

Jaina Gonzalez

33

The Incurable

By Menelik Reason I was diagnosed with leukemia a couple of months ago. Everyone around me was calling me mad and deranged. But the truth is, they don’t know what I’m dealing with, and they never will. I have escaped the institute. I couldn’t stand it anymore. The feeling of the IV piercing my hand has left a practically permanent scar on my right arm. The smell in the morning and the silence at night. Above all, there was the unreal feeling of watching everything happen while I felt stuck in my own body. The crazy looks I would get when I would ask them to help me and give me something to relieve my pain. Leaving the hospital was easier than you would imagine.

No questions were asked. I’m sure my dad will start asking around looking for me, but luckily I have Joe, the nurse, covering for me. She knows about my escape; she knows a lot.

It’s a breezy, warm night. I can feel the wind blowing across my face. For the first time in months, I was free. I saw a taxi and started waving my hand frantically for it to stop. Then it did; that was a lot easier than I thought. I opened the door and sat in the cold leather seat "Are you alright, Miss?” asked the taxi driver.

“Better than ever,” I replied.

"Are you sure?” he asked, with a hint of concern.

“Yes, now drive, please,” I said sternly.

“Where to?”

"Mmm, take me to Main St. first; I need to get some things.”

He started driving. I started thinking about how much money I had left; hopefully, it would be enough to buy the tablecloth and basket for my picnic with Damien. I let him know to meet him at South Beach before I left the institute. I talk to him often, but not in person; we’re very close. Damien was my first love; we had lots of history together. We were together for some time until he broke up with me. But none of that mattered to me. He made me feel horrible when it happened like I was drowning. But I know deep down that he still loves me; he still feels the same way, even if he doesn’t show it. I haven’t seen him in around two months. We lost connection, but I’m going to go meet up with him. The last time I saw him, he told me I could always find him by the water. I spoke to him last night to make sure he knew where to find me, not in person, but I knew he could hear me.

34

It was the early hours of the morning. I asked the driver to stop at the only store I knew would be open. He was kind enough to me during the drive, so I tipped him what I could afford.

I started walking up to Dollar General, one of the only stores open at the time. I walked in and grabbed a cart. There were a lot of things in the store that would be useful for my meet-up later tonight. I didn’t specify a time with him, but I’ll just wait for him. He’s not the type to bail on me; he never was.

"Ma'am, you're in the way,” said the worker.

This was when I realized that I had been standing still for some time and that I should probably go look around. The treatment made me zone out, but I didn’t want to explain that to her. I went down the food aisle and picked up some snacks for Damien and me to enjoy. The kitchen section was nearby, where I picked up the tablecloth. In the miscellaneous section, there was one of those stereotypical picnic baskets. The dim lighting made it difficult to see things, but I even managed to pick up a dress and some makeup so I could look my best. The store's long hallways felt never-ending. The store was empty, so there wasn’t anyone to get new things from.

People carry around all types of things: watches, money, and jewelry. They're so ignorant that they don’t even realize when it’s gone.

I got to the checkout and opted for the self-checkout since I didn’t want to deal with any more ignorant employees. I walked out of the store with a bag full of items. There was a gas station across the street, and I started walking towards it. I was crossing the street, and suddenly I saw headlights, followed by a loud screeching sound and a honk. The man seemed annoyed, even though he was the one who almost ran me over. People can be so careless with others; he doesn’t know what I’ve been through. I started walking towards the gas station entrance and made my way to the back, which is where the bathrooms are located. I walked in and looked at myself in the mirror. I stared at myself for some time. I was, in a way, proud of myself for coming so far. Who would’ve thought that a 16-year-old girl could pull this off?

I started to put some makeup on—just some eyeshadow and lipgloss. I didn’t want to overdo it. I kept thinking about Damien and how I left the hospital for him. I can’t wait to see him. I put the dress on but kept my zip up over it since it was a bit chilly. I looked at myself in the mirror again—my reflection. I almost admired myself as if I had never seen myself before like it was my first time. To be fair, since the illness, I have almost become a different person.

I noticed things about myself like I was watching from a different point of view. It felt as if I were outside my body. I slowly made my way out of the bathroom and saw a man who had a lot of things in hand. He looked busy, almost stressed. He was arguing with the cashier over something. The man started getting angry and moved his hands, and all of his things fell.

“See, look what you made me do!" he yelled frantically. He scoffed and started picking up his things.

35

I felt like the only kind gesture to make was to at least help him pick up some of his things. I dropped my bag and handed him a bag of chips and a soda, which he had dropped. He grinned at me, and I walked out of the gas station unnoticed. One of the things the man dropped on the floor was a box of cigarettes. They would never sell cigarettes to a young girl like me, but taking them was as easy as giving them back. I had a lighter in my sweatshirt from previous uses; I don’t smoke often, especially inside the hospital where they don't let you. Damien does, though; I picked them up just in case he wants one.

The street was dark and dim. I had nowhere else to go except the beach. I know it was probably a bit too early, but I wanted to make sure everything was set up by the time Damien got there. Plus, by the morning, they would probably realize I'd been missing and would go on a goose chase to try and find me. It’s not like I wasn’t planning on going back; I just wanted to see Damien one final time.

The cancer has been slowly killing me. Despite what everyone says, I can feel it. I feel weaker as time goes by, slower, and lethargic. I can barely muster enough energy to walk, but the thought of seeing him one last time keeps me going. How his hair was always perfect and the conversations we would have. Even after everything he put me through, he was always on my mind and still is. I want to tell him all of this when I see him. So I guess in a way I was planning, planning on how I was going to start our conversation and where I wanted it to go. Where I wanted “us” to go. I finally saw a taxi. This time, the driver was a woman.

“Where are you headed, Miss?” she asked.

"South Beach,” I replied.

"I don't mean to interfere, but what do you plan on doing in South Beach at this hour?”

She asked in a curious, almost inquisitive manner.

"I'm meeting up with someone special,” I reply.

"Well, they must be if it’s worth going at a time like this,” she said. “But the beach in March?” she asked.

“It’s the best time to go; there'll be no one there,” I reassured.

She started driving. I was thrilled. I maintained my excitement somehow. I started thinking about my dad. He would always take me to South Beach when I was younger. Over the summer, we were pretty avid beachgoers. We spent most of our time there. Whether it was the whole day or just in the afternoon to watch the sunset; I miss being a kid. I miss being given the benefit of the doubt because of my innocence. Now people just assume the worst in me without even thinking because I’m just some snobby teen. I can assure you that's not the truth. South Beach was my childhood; it was where I created some of my very first memories. It’s special to me. I always confided in Damien; it's likely why he told me to meet him here.

36

The drive was a bit long since it was on the other side of town. Once I got there, I could feel the butterflies all over again. The cab came to a stop.

“Thank you so much,” I told her.

“Take care,” she replied.

She seemed very sincere about it too, not like one of those people who say it just to say it.

Finally, I made it. I didn't expect him to be here because it was 3:30 AM, but I’m sure by the time the sun rises, he’ll show up. I love watching the sunrise. It’s so healing. South Beach is huge; by that, I mean it takes a while to get by the water. I also didn’t want to get a spot too close and risk ruining my dress and the picnic because of the changing tides. I started making my way down the sand, taking my shoes off first to make it easier to walk. Feeling the sinking sand below me made me feel something for the first time in months. I found a spot mid-beach which seemed perfect. I took everything out of the big brown paper bag and started setting up my picnic. I even bought a candle. I placed the tablecloth down and the candle too. I decided to leave the food in the basket and just wait till Damien got here.

I sat down on the tablecloth and decided to light a cigarette to kill time. Everything was perfect and peaceful. The scenery was beautiful. The clouds gave character to the dusk sky. The aroma of the beach was healing, and the sound of the waves was soothing. So much so that I decided to lie down and just focus for a bit. I figured I could be waiting a while for Damien, plus I had taken a long journey, so a little rest wouldn’t hurt. I laid down on the tablecloth, and before I knew it, I was out. When I woke up, it was brighter than ever. The array of colors almost distracted me from the point that Damien wasn't there.

“Damien?” I started shouting. “Where are you?” You could hear the immediate silence after my cries.

"Damien." I kept going. “Where are you? Don’t do this to me. You said you would be here.” I started shedding enough tears to fill a river. “Why aren’t you here? Why are you doing this to me?"

The beach was no longer silent; it was an echo of my sorrow. I started looking around, continuing to scream his name. It's the only name I’ve ever loved. At this moment, I realized I had to get closer. Closer to the water, which is where he told me to meet him. I stepped foot in the ocean, leaving my perfect picnic set up behind me. The weight of the water felt soft against my feet, pulling me in more. It reached my knees, keeping me closer to the light. I kept moving closer and closer until it filled my ears, and soon my mouth and eyes. Until my legs were no longer controlled by me; I wasn’t in control of myself. Water filled my lungs and pushed me further in. I was in darkness, but my soul felt surrounded by light. I could almost hear him.

“Nessa?"

37

“Damien.”

The light took over. All that was left was an empty beach with clear blue seas and a picnic basket on its golden brown sand.

Jaina Gonzalez

Des Dominguez

38

The Cold Hotel

By Kathleen Saunders Sabrina closed the hotel door behind her as fast as possible and winced at its loud sound.

However, she knew it was the right choice when all the cold air bled out of her lungs as she inhaled the sweet scent of the lobby. She felt her bones unclench, her heartbeat slowed, and her mind became a little less heavy as the warmth seeped into her every joint and extremity. Sabrina approached the front desk.

“Hello, how may I help you?” said the Clerk behind the desk. Sabrina noted that they looked pretty young for the job.

“A room for one, please.”

“And how long will you be staying?”

“Just one night, until this cold lifts. Gosh, it is freezing!” Sabrina hugged herself and imitated a dramatic shutter, “Brrr!”

The clerk covered their mouth with their hand and chucked politely. Sabrina signed her name in the guest book and took the room key the Clerk slid over. Its cool metal stung her dry hands. She chirped a thanks to the clerk and felt her exhausted smile slip off her face the more stairs she climbed. Jesus, what floor was room 405 on? Was she going to have to check every single one of these floors until— Oh there it was. The key may have been coarse and old, but it smoothly unlocked her door with a click. To Sabrina’s left, there was a small bathroom, in front of her there was a desk and chair, and most importantly there was a twin bed with a wooden frame, but the covers were who cares what they were– Sabrina collapsed onto the bed and wrapped herself up in the sheets. The industrial silkiness of the white bedspread draped over Sabrina in waves, and drenched her in the coolness of an untouched bed like ice water. Sabrina pouted under the blankets; aren't beds supposed to be warm? Whatever. Sabrina finagled her way into a sitting position with the blankets mercifully snugged around her legs and upper torso, some uncomfortable decorative pillows supporting her lower back. She reached into her bag, pulled out her laptop, and started typing. The cool air from her rapid fluttering of blankets seemed to seep into the fabric with a vengeance, but Sabrina tapped undeterred on her keyboard. As the minutes ticked by, the cold seeped into every joint on Sabrina’s fingers, which ached more and more as she continued. It curled around her fingernails and patches of dry skin, the silent trill aching her hands and hardening every key tap.

After about an hour, Sabrina slammed her laptop in exasperation and shoved her hands under her thighs to try and maintain some warmth. However, as Sabrina returned to herself, she noticed it wasn’t just her hands that were cold. It was nowhere near like the cold outside, but her room still failed to mend her slightly numb ears and toes. With each breath, she felt her lungs brace as a rush of cold air clutched them.

39

Sabrina abandoned the bed and the blankets with a petulant flourish and tiptoed down the creaky wooden stairs, hand trailing across the glossy varnish of the oak railing.

Sabrina walked over to the clerk, who was still occupying the front desk. She said, “I'm sorry to bother you, but it’s pretty cold in here.”

“Can I feel your hands?”

“Uh— I'm sorry??”

The clerk casually took Sabrina’s hands into her own. Sabrina tried not to squirm. She failed, but it seemed the Clerk didn't notice.

“They do feel quite cold. Do you find you have bad circulation?”

Sabrina had never given it much thought. Her hands didn’t tend to get cold, but then again, it had never gotten this cold where she grew up. Her hometown was all warm breezes and the easy chirping of chickens flowing through the trees in the night. Not like here.

“Yes, maybe that’s it, bad circulation. Sorry for bothering you,” and Sabrina said, embarrassment curling up in her gut as she took her hands back from the clerk.

“Don't run off just yet!” The Clerk smiled politely, “I have some spare gloves and hats in the lost and found up here.”

“Is that really, um, allowed?” Sabrina asked, edging around her hesitation to stick her hands in a bucket of strangers’ grime.

“Oh yes, they’re usually never returned to their owners, so they just collect dust in here. I do wash them when they're used, of course.” the clerk said, apparently reading Sabrina’s mind.

They grabbed a pink pair of chunky knit gloves and handed them to her. Sabrina gingerly took the gloves and slid them on.

She resisted the urge to wince. With each breath, each slight twitch of movement, she felt her brittle skin scrape against the jagged edges of the knit material. It shrieked in agony as it curdled and mutilated further under the strain. She said nothing to the Clerk, nor did she let her face betray what she was thinking. She shouldn't worry about the present; if she gave it time the insulation of the gloves was sure to warm her up. She just had to give it some time.

Jaina Gonzalez

40

Sabrina sat at the desk in her room, munching on the sandwich she’d brought for lunch. The melted cheese had reformed, and she pouted as each bite gave beneath her teeth and she was rewarded with lukewarm salt. But then she remembered that this was a hotel, and hotels usually have like- microwaves and stuff. Brightening, Sabrina flitted down the stairs. The Clerk was adjusting something beside the coat rack.

“Hello, can I ask if you have a microwave I could use?”

“Mmmm, sorry. The microwave hasn’t been working properly for a while.”

“Oh.” “Yeah,” The clerk frowned sympathetically, then dropped it and went back to what they were doing. Sabrina dragged herself back upstairs, perhaps a little dramatically. The stairs still creaked.

Sabrina tossed and turned in her bed. She normally didn’t sleep this early, she wasn’t sure anyone did. When not traveling, Sabrina usually had dinner at this time— but she couldn’t read or get any work done with the chill in the air. But each toss only splashed her face with another bucket of powdery pillow sheet, tangled her with more layers of marble sheets. She was just about to self-soothe with a nice deep breath when another turn tangled her in blankets and made her sweater tighten and her pants ride up. Sabrina shot out of bed and kicked, punched, and head-but her way out of the stupid bed. Her gloved hands clenched in anger. Before she could try a deep breath again, Sabrina found herself storming unapologetically down the noisy stairs, suppressing the urge to growl like a feral critter.

The Clerk wasn’t at the desk, and was instead folding small towels by a rack. Sabrina barely registered this as she stormed over to them.

“It’s still cold,” she said.

“Mhmm,” the clerk hummed indulgently.

“Are you even listening to me?” Sabrina managed not to yell, “It's not even just a little cold it’s freezing in here! Have you done anything at all to try and preserve the heat here?? I swear to god my toes are going numb and I’m wearing wool socks and- Uh.” The clerk was crying. “I’m so sorry!” Their hands flew to cover their face, even as more tears spilled onto the floor silently. “I don’t know what to do! It’s never gotten this cold before! And no one else runs this place, it's just me, the other owners said I could handle it this week and they left! I don’t know what to do!! I’m sorry!”

“Um, it's okay,” Sabrina awkwardly patted the Clerks shoulder as they shuddered and futilely wiped their eyes, her fury forgotten.

No, not forgotten. Transformed. Sabrina turned to the clerk, “I have some ideas…”

41

Sabrina sat at the desk in her room, munching on the sandwich she’d brought for lunch. The melted cheese had reformed, and she pouted as each bite gave beneath her teeth and she was rewarded with lukewarm salt. But then she remembered that this was a hotel, and hotels usually have like- microwaves and stuff. Brightening, Sabrina flitted down the stairs. The Clerk was adjusting something beside the coat rack.

“Hello, can I ask if you have a microwave I could use?”

“Mmmm, sorry. The microwave hasn’t been working properly for a while.”

“Oh.” “Yeah,” The clerk frowned sympathetically, then dropped it and went back to what they were doing. Sabrina dragged herself back upstairs, perhaps a little dramatically. The stairs still creaked.

Sabrina tossed and turned in her bed. She normally didn’t sleep this early, she wasn’t sure anyone did. When not traveling, Sabrina usually had dinner at this time— but she couldn’t read or get any work done with the chill in the air. But each toss only splashed her face with another bucket of powdery pillow sheet, tangled her with more layers of marble sheets. She was just about to self-soothe with a nice deep breath when another turn tangled her in blankets and made her sweater tighten and her pants ride up. Sabrina shot out of bed and kicked, punched, and head-but her way out of the stupid bed. Her gloved hands clenched in anger. Before she could try a deep breath again, Sabrina found herself storming unapologetically down the noisy stairs, suppressing the urge to growl like a feral critter.

The Clerk wasn’t at the desk, and was instead folding small towels by a rack. Sabrina barely registered this as she stormed over to them.

“It’s still cold,” she said.

“Mhmm,” the clerk hummed indulgently.

“Are you even listening to me?” Sabrina managed not to yell, “It's not even just a little cold it’s freezing in here! Have you done anything at all to try and preserve the heat here?? I swear to god my toes are going numb and I’m wearing wool socks and- Uh.” The clerk was crying. “I’m so sorry!” Their hands flew to cover their face, even as more tears spilled onto the floor silently. “I don’t know what to do! It’s never gotten this cold before! And no one else runs this place, it's just me, the other owners said I could handle it this week and they left! I don’t know what to do!! I’m sorry!”

“Um, it's okay,” Sabrina awkwardly patted the Clerks shoulder as they shuddered and futilely wiped their eyes, her fury forgotten.

42

No, not forgotten. Transformed. Sabrina turned to the clerk, “I have some ideas…”

The Clerk tilted their head at her, staring with confused red-rimmed eyes.

“Do you have any more thick blankets? Sabrina asked “No…” “Okay, we gather blankets from unoccupied rooms and give them to the residents.

“Oh, that would work!!”

“And next, put the carpets on the lower floors and hallways on the higher floors, it prevents drafts.”

“Oh, is that true? That’s very clever of you.”

“Yeah, I saw it in a book once.”

“Uh—“ “My last idea would be to cover all the windows with curtains, that also prevents drafts. Oh, maybe we could use spare fabric to cover the bottoms of doors and stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah!” the clerk nodded, fists held up and clenched in determination, “Okay, could you help me bring up the blankets to people? Uhm! That is, if you were offering to help—“ “Yeah for sure. Just promise not to make fun of me when I trip over the sheets I'm carrying.”

“Haha, I won’t! Actually, your suggestions have given me some more ideas…”

Sabrina collapsed into a bench in the main lobby. Tired, yet happy. Although it took a while to execute all their ideas she swore it felt a little warmer already.

Sabrina felt the clerk slump into the spot next to her, their head resting on her shoulder.

“You alright?” Sabrina asked.

The clerk hummed noncommittally. They didn’t move from their spot. “It’s a start, I think. A good one. Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” Sabrina said, smiling as she gently flexed her toasty fingers.

43

Jay’s Character Sheet

By Jaina Gonzalez

Jay conceptually is an undercover spy for a small rebel group trying her best not to get caught. Her snooping and suspicious attitude end up catching the eye of the top student, Dari.

44

Dari’s Character Sheet

By Jaina Gonzalez

Dari has grown up thinking she’s the most talented person on Earth, and she wants to keep it that way. Jay is a personified version of her worst nightmare; someone who makes her question what she already knows.

45

A Watchful Eye

By Jaina Gonzalez

46

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS “You, the reader, are the heart beat to this magazine!”

SHORT MESSAGE So, if you enjoyed reading this ussye, we encourage you to check out our previous editions that can be found on the Port Chester High School webpage.

Secondly, if you would like to submit writing, art work or photography for future editions, please get in touch with the Creative Writing Magazine by emailing either Victoria Rose or Jesse Fernandez. Their contact information can be found above, on this page.

Finally, if you are a dedicated writer or reader, everyone is more than welcome to join the Creative Writing Club, a safe, supportive and collaborative space where we work on our writing skills and help brainstorm new story ideas.

Contact Victoria Rose: vrose@portchesterschools.org Jesse Fernandez: jfernandez@portchesterschools.org