Page 1

Calliope The Independent Day School’s Literary Magazine

CALLIOPE 2010-2011 The Independent Day School Middle School Literary Magazine

This literary magazine is named in honor of Calliope, the eldest and most distinguished of the nine muses. She is the muse of eloquence and epic or heroic poetry. This magazine is a collection of creative pieces written by students in 6th, 7th and 8th grade. The content of the pieces range from celebrations of nature, explanations of identity, reflections on life, and many subjects in between. In total, this magazine is a compilation of the students’ self-expression through writing.

John F. Kennedy Chris Why is he my hero? There I am, a single American in a crowd of many, shouting his name in perfect unison with joy and hope in our hearts. There I am, listening to his Inaugural Address that inspired the country and the world. There I am, listening to his diplomatic handling of the Cuban Missile Crisis. There I am, watching, devastated, as Oswald shoots my hero. There I am, in the deserted, town where he was shot. And but what lands in my hand? Determination, pride, hope to aspire just like the hero of our nation. There I am, a single American in a crowd of hundreds, reciting his quotes to re-live his legacy. And why is he my hero? Because of what he did for our nation.

MY HERO ALEX Saif I remember the first time we became friends in 3rd grade. We were talking about webkinz and when we both had stuff animals named, “Chico,” we became friends instantly. You’ve never let me down and stuck up for me in all situations. You’re funny, smart, and someone who understands the kind of person I am. I’m never scared to tell you anything. You’re the best, and I hope we will always be friends.

My Mighty Force Noah Just because I’m small Doesn’t mean I’m not powerful, Doesn’t mean I’m weak, Doesn’t mean I’m delicate. Just because I’m a kid, Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t receive any less mail than adults, Doesn’t mean that I can’t be waiting on in a store, Doesn’t mean I should get any less respect. Just because I’m musical, Doesn’t mean I can’t play sports, Doesn’t mean I play an instrument 24-7, Doesn’t mean I don’t have any other talents. I deserve respect.

Who I am Lizzie Just because I’m outgoing, Doesn’t mean I’m embarrassing, Doesn’t mean I’m phony, And doesn’t mean I need to be the center of attention. Just because I’m adventurous, Doesn’t mean I don’t get scared, Doesn’t mean I’m careless, And doesn’t mean I don’t like staying home and watching movies on my couch. Just because I’m chatty, Doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention, Doesn’t mean I don’t have quiet times, And doesn’t mean I’m not thoughtful. Just because I enjoy my life, Does that mean I can’t get hurt? Does that mean I don’t get sad? Does that mean life doesn’t scare me sometimes? I may not be perfect, but I to live life to the fullest.

Who I Am Taylor Just because… Just because I laugh a lot, Doesn’t mean I don’t know when to stop, Doesn’t mean I can’t listen. Doesn’t mean I’m always going to make jokes. Just because… Just because I can act crazy, Doesn’t mean I’m mean, Doesn’t mean I’m not careful with my words. Just because… Just because I’m human, Means that I can be sad, Means that I can be mad, Means that I can love and be loved. Just because… Just because I’m me, Does it mean I can do anything? Does it mean I can sit around and do nothing? Does it mean I can just be myself? Answer: Yes, no, and maybe.



Decide at which stores you will purchase all of your clothes. Set a budget of how much you want to spend. Pick out an elaborate top that you can jazz up with some jewelry. Decide whether you want to buy pants or a skirt. Find a pair of shoes that will make the outfit just right. Pick out your jewelry, gold or silver. Once you have designed your perfect outfit, decide whether or not you are going to buy it.

Imaginative Spirit Lauren Just because I’m quiet in class, Doesn’t mean I don’t know what is going on, Doesn’t mean I don’t like to learn, And doesn’t mean I can’t speak. Just because I find truth in lies Doesn’t mean I’m always truthful, Doesn’t mean I always lie, And doesn’t mean that every lie is 100% untrue. Just because I take my time, Doesn’t mean I can’t be fast, Doesn’t mean I’m always slow, Doesn’t mean I can’t be on time. Just because I’m eccentric, Does that mean my quirks are bad? Does that make be weird? Can you only see me that way? Creativity and eccentricity are the biggest part of an imaginative mind. I am Lauren.

10 Things I Do when I’m Bored Chase

Go outside and shoot street hockey pucks into my giant hockey net. Do tricks on my red, phoenix scooter. Play airsoft with the kids on my street. Take an invigorating jog around the block a couple times until I see one of my friends. I get my protective dirt bike gear on and ride my yellow and black dirt bike around the block. I bundle up in thick winter clothes and take a walk in the woods to the stream in our backyard. Rake up a pile of leaves and do somersaults into the leaves. Do 50 push-ups and 50 curl-ups every time I die playing Call of Duty. Read adventure books that makes my mind wonder. I call one of my good friends to come over and play video games.

Temptation to Tease Nora

I remembered all the times My brother had teased me, And just to score one vile remark Would cover me with glee. Those shiny metallic squares Glued on my brother’s teeth, Would help me with my revenge, And boy, would it be sweet! There were just so many candies I could use to taunt my brother. Starbursts? Licorice? Or chocolates, one after the other. To do my duty as a sister Was to leave his braces alone. To be encouraging and consoling, And not turn my heart to stone. After all, I did feel guilty. He’d done nice things for me, too. I heard my conscience talking. I knew just what to do. I comforted my brother And made my mother proud. I was like a little angel, Sitting on a cloud. I don’t regret my actions, Because last week, you see, I went to the dentist, And guess what he told me?

“Mix-up” Patrick

“Zoooommmm...” The chair lift scoops me up of the ground and carries me up the huge mountain. The wind whips past me. The sun shines in my eyes, and the trees sway with the wind. I feel ready to have a great ski day with my parents. We get to the top. My dad goes first because he is a faster skier. I follow him with my mom, but she is so slow that I want to catch-up with my dad. I follow him down the mountain. When I get down I see him in the line to the gondola. I yell back to my mom, “I'll go up with dad!” She waves OK, “You go with dad, I'll rest for awhile and meet you at the lodge.” I can see my dad's golden ski suit and furry hat in the line in front of me. I don't have enough time to get to him because he is already getting on the gondola. I yell, “I'll be in the next car, dad!” I see him wave to me. As my gondola slows down in front of me, I put my skis in the rack on the side and step in. There are four of us going up the mountain, two kids about my age, and a tall woman that I guess is their mom. As the doors to the gondola close, it starts moving immediately. Gradually it picks up speed and charges up the mountain. I can see my dad's back in the car ahead of us. The gondola goes so fast that it seems as if it brushes the snow off the tree tops. When I get to the top, I catch a glimpse of my dad skiing down the mountain. Why isn’t he waiting for me? What's he doing? I think to myself. I yell after him, but no answer. But wait a minute, why does he have green ski boots. I thought his were black. I have no choice but to follow him down. How hard can that be? I see a little kid zooming down past me. I get to the edge of the trail, look down, and freeze. The wind is blowing snow in my face and pushing me back. It feels like a blizzard just hit me. The trail looks steep and icy. I am so scared that I can't move. I look around and a friendly ski patrol comes to me. He introduces himself and says his name is Billy. He asks if I'm OK. “My dad went down the mountain and didn't wait for me. But, now I'm not sure if that really was him. And my mom is down the mountain thinking that I'm skiing with my dad. I'm so scared to go down. This is my first time at the top of this mountain.” I say to the ski patrol. “I thought the blue trail would be easy,” I add. Billy smiles at me, thinks for a while, and says, “You got three choices here. One, I can put you on the gondola to go down. Two, I can take you down on a toboggan. Or three, you can follow me down the mountain and we ski together.” I decide to pick the third choice, to ski down with Billy. We start off by going across the very steep beginning, then zig-zagging our way down. All the way, Billy reassures me that I'm doing great. And I really am. I don't feel so scared anymore. Then the trail gets much easier and we ski straight through the moguls. Half way down, Billy gets a message on his radio saying that my parents are looking for me. The rest of the way is a pleasurable run. At the bottom, I spot my parents in the distance waving to me. I thank Billy for giving me a safe run down the mountain and go to them. They are happy to see me. I look down at my dad's boots; they are black not green.

An Interesting Boy Benjamin I am Benjamin Radcliffe. I am 11 years old. I have a contract with an agent. His name is Steve. He shakes my hand each time we meet, I wonder what opportunities he’ll bring to us. My brother once pushed me off a cliff. I flew into the Atlantic Ocean. It was a cliff, Not a tiny rock that your parents let you jump from. I once saw the Loch-ness monster, Lurking in the Loch-ness lake. Don’t believe me? I would not lie. I have puked into the Grand Canyon. I upchucked my lunch. Into one of Mother Nature’s most incredible places, On a family trip, I threw up. I’ve eaten a rattlesnake. At Rustler’s Roost, It was an option, And I gave it a go. I’m 11 years old. I’ve had adventures in those 11 years. I am Benjamin Radcliffe.

Things You Should Know about Me Chloe Just because I’m orderly, Doesn’t mean I like to clean my room, Doesn’t mean I always like my socks to match, Doesn’t mean I’m always perfectly put together. Just because I can be funny, Doesn’t mean I want you to be a clown, Doesn’t mean I want you to laugh at me, Doesn’t mean I can’t be serious. Just because I love to dance, Doesn’t mean I can’t play other sports, Doesn’t mean I’m a ballerina, Doesn’t mean I never miss a beat. Just because I choose to smile, Does that mean I don’t get disappointed? Does that mean I’m always happy? Does that mean I couldn’t frown if I wanted to? I am Chloe. I am orderly and happy. I love to dance and laugh. All because I choose to.

Paws Michael Dear Earnest, Please stop stepping on my feet. Your feet are as large as a lamp And your nails are sharp like a knife You may not know this But you weigh a lot. It hurts me When you step on my feet. You do it a lot. Don't get me wrong, You are awesome You are the best dog ever. You are fluffy and soft You follow me everywhere You probably don't realize this, because you're a dog, but please remember. Next time go on a walk, Remember my toes, Remember my feet. Your Friend, Michael

Kittens, Gramophones, and Monet Stevie I am Stevie Mills. I am twelve years old. I am tall. I have brown hair. I love fluffy, white kitties. I hate squirmy, fat cats. I always try to remember that cats are really kittens on the inside. I have five gramophones. I collect silent movies. I have a typewriter. I always think that things aren’t like they used to be. I am an enigma. I am one with nature. I always feel at home at the lake where the sun sets over the water. I love art. I love Monet. I love Renoir. I always like looking at Impressionist artwork. I am Stevie. I am twelve years old.

Why? Rose

“Ughhhh, Dad I really don’t want to go to the dentist!” I told my dad after he picked me up from school. He didn’t say anything until we were both in the car. “Rose something really terrible has happened.” I felt no pain at the dentist, while they were plying one of my teeth out knowing what my grandmother had just been through. A stroke. I don’t get why it happened, happened to her. The most loving, caring person, who always gave so much. I believed in fate until that moment. This was not her fate, although I can’t help thinking that this brought my family closer. That night, after crying so hard, I went outside in the freezing cold and just stood there and thought. Trying to think of some excuse of why this happened. Then I thought to myself that maybe something good will come out of this. We visited my grandmother in the hospital a few times a week and everyday we saw improvement. Her speech was damaged but her personality had not changed one bit. Every time we walked into the hospital she greeted us with the same warm glow. It has been almost 6 months after the accident and she is still getting better and better. Although she still calls me a mixture of my sister and brothers names, I always can see how hard she it trying and know that she is going to get better.

Letter to My Brother Derek

Dear Alex, I know How much You need To watch your favorite shows To watch your favorite movies. Your only excuse Is homework. No one else May use the computer Until you are done. Why? Why must you Always steal The computer from me? And stay on All night? I know, Your laptop is terrible, Your laptop is old, The TV is “not good enough.” I have needs too! Maybe not important, But neither are yours. We don’t “need” the computer. We both like using it. I want To play my games, To meet my friends online, To read about the latest news. Let us make a deal You must stay away Until I go to sleep. Sincerely, Derek

The Beatles’ Biggest Fan! Max Dear Paul McCartney, I am Your biggest fan. Your tunes Rock hard. Your music Makes me boogie. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band Plays non-stop In my mind. The Beatles Changed the world Revolutionized music Transformed lives Mesmerized millions. Strawberry Fields Forever! Love, Maxine

Earvin Joe

Earvin Johnson, you are a strong, fast, fearless man. I just remember when you marched into Boston, with many people frowning down on you, amid all of the racial tensions, and beat Larry Bird and the Celtics. It was like yesterday when you went to Bird’s house, extremely nervous, and his mother warmly welcomed you into her home. I remember when you got HIV and had to stop playing basketball. You are two persons, Magic and Earvin, but I like Earvin a lot better. I remember when you became great.

Puppy Ultimatum Sadie Dear Tasmen and Milly, You left me no choice. I hid your toys. I am truly sorry, I tried simply scolding you, To no avail, You refused to listen. You left me no choice. You were bad puppies, You ate my shoes, You ran away when I took you on walks, You even nibbled on me! You were bad puppies. We can make a deal, I will walk you everyday, So long as you come when I call. I will give you bones So long as you don’t chew my shoes! We can make a deal. Your pal, Lucky Lucy

My Life Ellie Just because I’m a very contentious person, Doesn’t mean I am always a serious student, Doesn’t mean I love to take tests, And doesn’t mean I always follow directions. Just because I am two belts away from black, Doesn’t mean I love to be violent, Doesn’t mean I’m afraid to defend myself, And doesn’t mean I use my skills just because I have them. Just because I’m Jewish, Doesn’t mean I have anything against other religions, Doesn’t mean I’m Orthodox, And doesn’t mean I’m not proud of my faith. I’m my own person. I love my life.

JULIEN THE GREAT Julien I am Julien Brother of Lovely, Who needs sports, fast music and delicious food; Who loves people, rain, and calm water, Who hates summer, classical music, and stinky cheese, Who fears turbulent, deep water and the Taliban, Who dreams of sugary candy, thick maple syrup, and great times with family, Who is a resident of the world, Julien.

Wheels or Escalators Leander The rough sound of rolling wheels on concrete. The sandy feeling of the grip tape. The feeling of gliding on the ground then lifting off in the air only for moments. The clicking of the tail of a skateboard snapping up then falling again. The rotations of a board spinning like art in the air. Everything I love is in my skateboard. The crowding people everywhere. Shouting children and crying babies whining. People from every direction flooding in and out of stores. The “cha-chings” of the cash register making a documentary of another purchase. Occasionally, the alarming beeping of a felon stealing merchandise without paying. Everything I detest is in this, is the dreadful mall. Finally, a free Saturday. And I spend it wasted at a mall. A dreadful, crowded place. Hundreds of people. In each persons hand are multicolored shopping bags. The continuous squeaking of shoes drive me crazy. The rubber smashing against the tile floor. Sadly I had to go to the mall. My mom said she wouldn’t have another chance. In the end, duty prevailed and won. My desire for wheels hitting the concrete lives on.

I am Tom Tom Just because I’m weird and odd, Doesn’t mean I’m crazy and diabolical, Doesn’t mean I should go to an asylum, And doesn’t mean I can infect you with craziness. Just because I talk and chatter, Doesn’t mean it is always a joke, Doesn’t mean it is intended to be hilarious, And doesn’t mean you should yell at me. Just because I laugh, Doesn’t mean it is a joke, Doesn’t mean I’m a joke, And doesn’t mean you’re a joke. Just because I’m immature, Does it mean you have to hate me? Does it mean I can’t improve? Does it mean you can judge me? I am Tom. I talk. I laugh. I’m weird. I’m immature. And I don’t care.

Thrill of the Game Dan The nine were on the field, Not ready to yield. Dressed in our uniforms so white, They stood out bright in the sun’s light. I turned and saw the score on the board, I prayed to the lord. A ground- ball back to the mound, My heart began to pound. It’s time for our team to do what we do best, It’s time for our team to get out of this mess. Strike one, strike two, strike three, one out. Strike one, strike two, strike three, two outs. As the number nine batter came up to bat, The players in the dugout threw in ‘The Hat.” Maybe our hopes of glory, Wasn’t going to be our story. The next pitch hit the ditch, Our number nine batter walked to first base. My turn and when the pitcher threw the ball, I pictured it going over the outfield wall. When the ump called strike two, I was awakened from my daze. I swung with all my might. A powerhouse swing, Was my chance to be the king? As I rounded the bases, I saw my team’s smiling faces. To this day I will never forget, The thrill of the game.

Letter to My Sister Yavar

Dear Ava, I write to you On behalf of My homework and grades. They suffer. I must focus on my work. I request That you be quiet That you be tranquil That you be calm. I must focus on my work. I understand That you need sleep That you need food That you need attention. I must focus on my work. I know That you are 6 months old That you are a baby Yet, I can’t refrain from asking you To stop disturbing me. I must focus on my work. Maybe You could smile Rather than frown? You could laugh More than you cry? I must focus on my work. Your Dear Brother, Yavar

10 Things I Love About IDS Camille Safe environment to learn Sense of community Respected as individuals Treated as equals regardless of race or religion Teachers challenge students Strong bound between teachers and students Small classes with engaged students Opportunities to participate in sports, clubs, bands, choruses, and arts programs Close-knit family Feels like home


Michael Elizabeth When I was in school, I never really liked haikus. Refrigerator.

Bed vs. English Patrick The crisp air filled the sky with leaves. All I could think of was pulling the covers over me. As I pulled the covers up to my shoulders, I remembered I forgot to write my English paper. All I wanted to do was fall into an amazing dream. Instead, I dragged myself up and out of bed. It felt as if a line was attached between me and my bed, Preventing me from moving. I got up to do my English, Breaking the line, Only to figure out That I had not English homework. So, I crawled up the endless mountain of stairs, Up to my warm, cozy bed. And I fell into a deep dream. When I woke up again, I remembered that I forgot to do my MATH HOMEWORK.

The Things I Carry Aaron There are many things that I carry around each day that many other kids my age also carry. What I carry on the inside however is what makes me unique. The literal things I carry that other students also carry are notebooks, a book bag, and a computer. Also many other people, not just students carry things that I carry like pens, pencils, clothes, and a phone. The personal things that I carry show my thoughts, what I feel, and who I am. I literally carry many things, but they do not show who I really am. I carry my clothes on my back, notebooks to class, my computer, and I also carry my heavy book bag with all my notebooks and class belongings inside. I need to carry these school belongings to get through the school day. I also carry many other things that are not from class that are normal for a kid my age to carry. I carry a phone, candy (sometimes in school), a wallet (not with a lot of money in it), and a snack. Many other people might carry these things in and outside of school. I also have a job at school were I carry the American flag at the end of the day. Mostly The things I carry literally do not describe me. There are many things however; I carry inside that show who I am. These figurative things that I carry are parts of my thoughts and who I am. I carry the thoughts of what people think of me, especially in the 8th grade because I’ve known these people for so long, and I want them to think highly of me. I also carry, because of being older, responsibility in my house. My mom says, now that I’m older I’ll have more responsibility and not just at home. Mostly the responsibilities are chores; I have to walk the dog, feed him, take out the trash, and wash the dishes. I also carry the feeling that I’m going to fail every test and quiz that is announced in class. I study as much as I need to know but nothing can prepare me for the actual test. When I’m taking the test I instantly think that that I am going to forget everything. Also the thing that makes me most unique is my humor, and optimism towards life. I think those figurative thoughts that I carry are what best show who I am. I carry two lists of things, one is figuratively and the other is literally. Many other people my age also carry the literal things I do. Every day I lug around my clothes, my books, my book bag, and my computer. The literal things I carry do not show who I am. The list of things that I carry figuratively help identify me. I hold my thoughts of what people think of me, the thoughts of failing every test and quiz that’s assigned, my responsibility, and what really makes me unique is my humor and optimism towards life. These thing are what really make me unique.

Homework Woes Daniel Every day when I get home I want to have fun. I want to go outside. I want to be free. I want to play soccer with my dad. I want to run, run, run. Fresh air feels as good as eating a banana split on warm, sunny day. I always bring homework from school. I have to do it. I have to correct my spelling. I have to check my grammar. I have to put in my college headers. I have to dot my i’s and cross my t’s. When I start my work, I get very sleepy. I always do my duty. I tell myself to do my homework. I complete it. I pick up my pencil and write. I pick up my eraser and fix my mistakes. Homework is a brick wall that stands in my way. I must break it down one assignment, one brick at a time. But when I break it, And I get an A, I go outside. I finally have my freedom.

The Snowy Procrastinator Jonathan

I sit in front of the T.V., looking at the dark blank screen. I am nervous to turn on the screen, not wanting to hear that the snow storm will not hit us. I am scared. I anxiously push the power button and the screen immediately turns on. I turn to the news channel, and anxiously await the weather man, Bob Maxon. The weather man pops on, and delivers the bad news. The storm seems to have gone out to sea. That’s all I need to hear, and I sulk over to the table, preparing to do the tons of homework that I have left for Sunday night. I have to do a huge grammar packet, twenty math problems and read ten short stories. This is just plain wrong, no teacher should do that to a kid! I start the homework, but in an hour, I’ve only done half the grammar packet. Everything else remains to be done. “How’s it coming, Jon?” my mom asks. “I’m not going to finish tonight,” I say. I get up from my seat. I decide that I am just going to hope for a snow day. I walkup stairs and sit on my bed, sickened by the thought of showing up to class without my English packet . I then lay down and fall asleep. The next morning, I wake up. I look at the clock. To my surprise, it says 8:01. I stare at it in amazement, thinking that it is broken, or I have just overslept and there is actually school. I jump out of bed and run to the window. I throw open the shades and look out at the winter wonderland. I yawn, and shuffle back over to my nice warm bed. I awake again at 10:00, and rundown stairs to go into the snow. After a couple of hours, I come back in and start to play Wii. After that, I eat dinner and am about to start to watch T.V, when my mom interrupts my plan. “Hey Jon, when are you going to do your homework? I get a feeling in my stomach as if I have just been pelted by a huge, heavy snowball. I decide to turn on the T.V. hoping that there is another storm in the forecast. I turn to the news channel I look at her and look back at the screen. Bob Maxon, who I have now come to despise, telling us that the storm is going to hit our county. I am overjoyed. “Don’t push your luck, Jonathan. Whatever Bob Maxon says is usually wrong” My mom says. I decide to push my luck. I go to bed again without reading the ten short stories, finishing the grammar packet, and without even looking at the twenty math problems. The next morning, I am awoken by sun hitting my face. I look at my clock and it says 8:02. I get out of bed. I turn on the T.V. and read at the bottom of the screen “Independent Day School- CLOSED.” I eat breakfast, throw on my snow clothes and run outside. My friends are already outside. We build an igloo and have a gigantic snowball fight. I got cold and went inside. Waiting for me is a roaring fire and some hot apple cider that my mom has ready for me. I spend the rest of the day texting my friends from school and playing video games. It is a perfect day. As I just advance to a new level on SuperSmash Bros. my mom came in the room. “How about that homework, Jon?” My mom asks. She is trying to rain on my parade. I did not want to do any of it. “I’m not even going to look, Mom. Maxon said that there is going to be another storm. There is no way we are going to have school.” I want to push my luck for day three. I went go bed without even glancing at the short stories, the packet, or the math problems.

The next morning, I do not wake up on my own. Instead, I am pushed awake by my mom. “Jonathan, it is time to go to school. You did not set your alarm!” I tried to go back to sleep, hoping it was all a bad dream, but no. Maxon had been wrong. There was no third storm. Soon, I am sitting at a table at school. I luckily got to miss math because Mrs. Effgen was snowed in and she could not get to school. However, Mrs. Ficke had a snowplow, just so that she can make sure she gets to school alright. She walked in and excited to read the ten short stories, ready to check who has done the homework. I think to myself, “Please don’t let you call on me. Please don’t let her call on me.” I pray that we will suddenly lose electricity. I have no such luck. “Jonathan, where are your short stories?” She asks. I respond, “Well, ummm, about that...”

Joy Sophia A Bubbly feeling stirring up inside, A tingling sensation you don’t want to hide, Heart pounding in your chest, Wondering if that was your , A toothy grin from ear to ear, A salty droplet of water coming from your eyes, is that a tear? Wanting to jump high with glee, Feeling as buzzy as a bee.

That felt nice, The exhilaration of a game won. Now I think I need a nap.

Gloomy Days Song Jazzlyn

Verse I see the leaves of the trees turning black All of these voices in my head bringing me back Back to those days where you tore it all apart I am still in love with you deep inside my heart Chorus All these gloomy days rip the soul out of my life All these gloomy days string my soul up on the line All I need are rays to fade away all my dreadful pain All these gloomy days--Verse I see the young kids they gather in the park No one to comfort me my life lives in the dark I know your choice was to run away from love Now you're the only one I can't stop thinking of Chorus All these gloomy days rip the soul out of my life All these gloomy days string my soul up on the line All I need are rays to fade away all my dreadful pain All these gloomy days--Bridge You've got me going crazy playing till my fingers bleed What did I tell you baby you're the only one that I need to heal me Chorus All these gloomy days rip the soul out of my life All these gloomy days string my soul up on the line All I need are rays to fade away all my dreadful pain All these gloomy days--Now I'm stuck in these gloomy days as they fade away

The Kiss Nicole

The first thing I felt was a warm hand pressed into mine. I moved my hand, groping for my braille book. I read the lines and found that the hand was a person, a boy, about my age. My teacher communicated to me that he had brought me chocolates. Chocolates! I loved the sweet taste of it on my tongue. The warm hand clamped tighter. The way I am reminds me of Helen Keller, the blind and deaf woman. This is a different story, though. That boy made me feel like I was a normal person. His movements told me that he was swaying. Was he singing? I wish I could hear him. My teacher told me he was singing “All You Need Is Love�. I felt a warm, glad, feeling in my heart as he rocked me gently. I groped with my hand to find his face. Before I could, he came close, and kissed me.

My Hero Kate

Dear You, I think I owe you a thank you. You are the inspiration for everything I do. You help me through all times of distress. Without you, I would not be the person I am today. I remember so many times when you showed your bravery and compassion, and I thank you for them all. I remember this morning, when you looked in the mirror, saw me, and promised to be the best Kate you could be. I appreciate that. Love, Me

Why Am I Me? Maggie

No one truly knows who they are or who they are going to become. Perhaps you'll be a scientist and fly something into this sun. This poem might not be interesting to you. It's something I made up. This is an example of why I'm not going to be a poet when I grow up.

My Identity Ricky

My name is Richard Murphy. I am a joyful 14-year-old boy who enjoys playing sports, listening to music, watching TV, talking with girls and hanging out with friends. I have a strong personality and am not afraid to speak up for others and myself. I am a curious human being that likes to try new things and meet new people. These are just some the things I use to identify myself (p.s. I hope it didn’t sound like the profile of a lonely lover). When I meet someone new, the first thing I do is tell my age and where I live. If the new person lives near me, I will include where I go to school. Another thing I will tell them is that I enjoy playing sports. If they are familiar with a certain sport or play a sport themselves, I will include the 3 sports I enjoy playing. If the new person becomes a friend, I make an effort to keep in touch with them.


Sophie Like a poison being shot into your veins. Like a drug being in your system.. Like a disease that never goes away Sometimes, these feelings make sense. Sometimes, it’s like you would never see it coming With every step you take Closer to that person, Your heart starts to pound Your hands start fidgeting Your sweat starts trickling Your breath starts heavying STOPPPPPP!!!!!! Boom! You’re in love! You feel yourself more attracted to the person You want to talk to them all the time, You feel as though you need to stare You even dream about the two of you together Hand in hand Loving each other, And smiling at each other.

Three Haikus Michael Elizabeth Do not grasp my love, It’s quicksilver in your palm. Clutch it- it darts away. I see you drivin’ ‘Round town with the girl I love, I’m like, forget you. Follow me, my love, To a place of peace and joy, Away from our world.

Untitled Jenna Eyes meet from across a hallway, We smile, Walk towards each other, We talk, Ignore everyone around us, We laugh, About everything, We share something, Remembering everything about each other. But then, You walk away, Something more important comes up, You forget, Suddenly you can’t remember, You crush me, Sent me into violent tears, Make me want to roll up into a ball, Can’t remember a reason to live.

Tiny Survivors Jenny

As I stare quietly into the downpour, I see the little robins, And remember that ten out of every one-hundred Of these little birds live to adulthood. These are the airborne creatures of the woods, And one of the smallest. A robin’s egg All shiny and blue And new to the world, Will never escape The jaws of death that threaten to bite. A tiny chick Just hatched Can easily freeze, Or fall, Without evading the teeth in the jaws By staying in the nest. Its feathers grow, And so do its wings. It prepares for the leap of faith, That will propel it through the air, Or might slow the descent to the floor, The common downfall of bird kind. All grown and flying, The traveler now searches for a partner, Trying to find a place to rest, Avoiding the jaws that search for a meal These tiny blue treasures, Lying encased in the gentle hands of Mother Nature, Continue the circle of life. Some may not make it very far, But all will persevere until their dying breath. As I stare quietly into the downpour, I watch the next generation Preen herself and then take flight. I wonder about the days to come And the fate of this tiny robin.

Wind Thomas Flow of energy through the air Cold or warm, blowing through the fingertips of the multicolored shining trees Trees swaying side-to-side obeying your powerful command Leaves and sand on the great old forest floor being swept up and carried gently to be placed back onto the ground like a mother putting her child to bed A feeling of life in the dead calm air.

Moon Olivia

Bright, high, huge Gives light in the night. High up in the sky. No feeling, no heart, no problems.

Mouse Olivia Small, brave, soft Scurries from left to right. Everywhere from the barn floor to the attic. No school, no friends, no doubts.

The Lion and The Doe Katy

Golden Tears glisten So high above Thought, so cold Thought, unloved But the golden tears glisten just out of reach As if, to all life, they have something to teach Just as the lion chases the doe The sun chases the moon Tearing black silk of night, it seems, too soon From salmon scale sky to day of cornflower Great lion beyond Earth radiates his power As each beast much do, the lion must sleep Say goodbye to the day, the flowers, they weep She dances home, Great doe of the night Safe from the sun, sinking, out of sight The constellations, they spin to the song of the dark joined by the whippoorwill, Owl, and Nighthawk She dances so free, holding the sky until the night turns to day, flying by The chase goes on forever Lion after doe The world will cease to stop It simply insists to Go The sun seems so joyous Living in the land of light the moon, cold and solemn, encased in the night But the lion in the sun looks down with a feeling, never to show Of loneliness and sorrow as Earth prances and twirls far below The doe in the moon has her siblings and friends, Not hid with steel bars but joined by the graceful and glistening, golden stars.

Thirteen Ways I Love Puddle, My Cat Allwynne

Purrs loudly On my cozy bed at night Lays on my chest Soft sweet meow Following me Drooling when happy Licks my fingers gently Rubs soft face against mine Go outside, rubs my legs Huge yawn Allows being picked up like sack of potatoes Round eyes Rounded to a point muzzle



Not winter nor autumn not snow or leaves but, flowers, greenery, and birth the world comes alive after its long slumber smelling the fresh, crisp, clean air after being cooped up all winter Exploring the world as though you have never seen it before.

Summer Danielle

Humid, unreasonably hot, sweating summer vacation, beaches, being outdoors Summer, like every season has its ups and its downs spending time with friends jumping into a cold pool playing in the rain watching the sunset the leaves getting ready to fall the first day of school.

Sun Presley Bright, hot, huge Gives us heat and warmth In our solar system No face, no tears, no coldness

Grass Presley Green, soft, strong Sways in the wind Below our feet No friends, no love, no feelings

The Ultimatum of a Fisherman’s Wife Sam His repeated trips To ponds, To lakes, To oceans, And streams, To the tackle shops, To share and gloat Became too much. No longer! No more! His wife had enough! She snapped! Her ultimatum: Take it or leave it. It’s me Or the fish. The next morning Tackle box, Fishing rod, Trailer and the boat, Gone! Missing! It all disappeared Overnight. His decision clear, With the feeling of rejection, Her head sagging, Like a limp fish out of water She was now alone. Her ultimatum Had not turned out As she had planned.

Cow the Cow The great story, about a cow’s adventures By Alex D. and Peter M. Part 1 Once upon a time there was a cow that went moo to a Donkey. “Why do you moo?” asked Donk the Donkey. Co the cow had pondered this thought since he was 7. He was 15 and still pondered this thought. Co went to the cow librarian with his question only to get the unwanted reply that cows do what they do. Suddenly, while relaxing at home, Co was kidnapped by burglars with two legs and brought to an open field. Unlike all the other cows, Co was curious and listened to the two-legged creatures. He learned their language and found out that they were called humans. After he learned their language, he went to what he learned was called a scientist. The scientist explained that cows once lived on a large ball in the sky called a moon. When they lived there, they called their planet Moo because they could not pronounce, moon. As the moon began to develop craters and lost its oxygen, all the cows jumped to earth. Now, cows say moo when they look into the sky because they want to go back to the moon. “Oh!” Co said satisfyingly. “But why can’t we pronounce the letter “ee,” he tried to say “n” but he couldn’t. To be continued… Part 2 “Eeg, Mooe,” for the life of himself Co couldn’t say “n.” He asked all the humans with PhD’s, and no one knew. One day he was walking in the meadow when he saw a tube-like-thing. “AAAH!” he screamed, not knowing why he did this. Curiously, he went to Old Matty, the wise old cow in the barn. He asked Old Matty, and Old Matty told him that this was a noodle. Co had a tough time understanding the word because Old Matty also couldn’t pronounce “n.” “Why can’t I pronounce n?” Co questioned. “There was once a large plague going through the cows. When they ate eoodles,” he tried to say noodles, “they were poisoned. Because of this, they cursed the noodles and promised never to say “n” again. We eliminated “n” from our alphabet and were taught never to say it. “This is why we can’t say “n,” Mmm, Co exclaimed. “But who poisoned the noodles?” Co asked. Befuddled by yet another question. To be continued…

Peanut Butter Passion Timothy My heart broke like an eggshell Being cracked into a bowl When I couldn’t have a muffin Until I clean my dirty room. He said I had to clean it From the bottom to the top, All the dirty, stinky clothing And the dust that made it cough. But the peanut butter vapors, Wafting straight into my nose, The yummy, chocolate chip-ness Sent a shiver to my toes. The smell of all those muffins Was like torture to my heart, Like watching all your siblings Tear open presents without you. I straightened out my bookshelf And I heard the timer beep, The muffins were now ready, My eyes began to water. But I did not give up hope for my room was almost clean No more clothes not in their places, No more books without a home, My determination was endless, And I knew I would succeed. Finally finished with my cleaning, I raced down the stairs I quickly snatched a muffin My reward for all my labor I wonder was it worth it? All that cleaning and the time? My first bite into the warm, fluffy muffin Sure eased my mind.

A Poem for Her Lilly Hestia gave up her throne. She is forgotten and alone. She gave up her spot so her nephew could rein. The god of wine, Dionysus was not a big pain, But he partied so much he was almost insane.   Now the deeds of our Hestia are long, long forgotten She warms our hearth, And she’s not rotten.   Now she may not get an epic poem, But this may be enough to show ‘em.  

Food Fun Paige Pork Chop Man and Salad Lady were in a relationship. They were always together. One night, Brie was having a party. She turned on the music and started dancing. Eggs then started break dancing. Ice tea then starting d.j.-ing. Steak was feeling adventurous and was doing the tenderized with Milk. They got tipsy and went out of the fridge. The family dog started chasing them, and they ran all around the house. They hide in the food elevator and went down to the basement. They decided that living in the basement was safer. The next morning they woke to a scream. The woman thought that her house had been robbed of food. She call the police and was arrested for malnutrition.

Twins Betty

The homey smell of fresh baked cookies filled the dark living room as I fell onto the overstuffed lime green sofa to turn on the television. In other words I couldn’t have been happier. My homework was finished; American Idol was on; my Dad wasn’t laid off yet, and I scraped myself onto the honors list at school. I took a big sigh that was full of cookies and happiness. I wedge the remote out of the crack in the floorboards and applied all my force to the power button. The small TV, cast lights all around the room as the trademark American Idol trailer came on. Ah, the joy of mindless television. I ran my fingers through my puppy’s fur as the little creature crawled on my lap. While the ads came on, I looked around at the walls. The shabby wallpaper was peeling off in places, and my mother was trying hard to maneuver herself around the tiny kitchen. My life wasn’t bad; it was just so incredibly mediocre, unlike Zoe. Zoe had just placed herself at the retro coffee table with my laptop. Well, technically it wasn’t my laptop, it was both of ours. We share everything because, unfortunately we’re twins, but not just any twins... identical twins. Zoe and I used to be best friends in junior high. Then when we went to high school, Zoe stuck to the “cool girls” like a cocklebur. One of those girls was my arch enemy, Daisy. Daisy would sneer at me, everything about me, my clothes, my hair, my friends. And of course Zoe, my own sister, would join along. I pulled my mind away from depressing thoughts and focused on Steven Tyler singing Dream On on American Idol. Zoe was typing and when she types it sounds like a heard of elephants slamming down on the keys. Click, Click, Clack!! We have a old laptop with sticky keys but her typing seemed to become increasingly louder with every click. I tried ignoring it, but it was like The Tell Tale Heart; the clicking wouldn’t stop. I turned up the volume louder and louder with every click trying to drown out the noise. I thought my actions should be very clear to hear, but she continued as though I wasn’t even there. Usually when she did this she would start screaming at me, but she seemed completely absorbed in whatever she was doing. Finally, I huffed to get the point across to her, but she ignored me. This how it was every single night! She would sit down on the hard black plastic chair and email for hours. Why doesn’t she understand that watching American Idol is one of the small joys of my life? Don’t ruin it with your obnoxious typing! I pictured the email she was sending... Hey Daisy, Wasup? OMG I can’t stand my sister, she is such a DORK. Now she is like watching American Idol AKA: Lamest show in the world! Toots (: Anger pulsed through my body at the imaginary email seemed to buzz around my head. I’m not really sure why, I don’t usually do things like this, but I picked up the hard plastic remote and flung it at her. It hit the wall next to the computer, to my surprise she didn’t respond at all. So I yelled, “Zoe, Shut up! If you want to email Daisy and all your other beauty queen friends, do it somewhere else!!” Zoe looked up from the screen for the first time. The expression on her face was odd, almost disturbing. Her skin seemed like it had been tightly stretched across her face. The white expression and glossy eyes scared me. I had never seen her this way. “Texting and Driving,” she whispered hoarsely. “What?” I said confused. “Daisy is dead.”

The Silence of God

Found Poem by Hannah I prayed at dusk. I continued to devote myself to my studies. Night fell. Oh God, Master of the Universe, in your infinite compassion have mercy on us... Suddenly we fell free of the previous nights' terror, we gave thanks to God. Someone began to recite Kaddish, the prayer for the dead. Where is merciful God, where is he? He kept six crematoria working day and night. Why, but why would I bless him? I no longer accepted God's silence. It's over, God is no longer with us. Yes, man is stronger, greater than God. Lines taken from Night by Elie Wiesel

Danger Nicole lurking in the corner of every alley dark, mysterious, frightening lurks in the shadows of the night screams echo through the air. No place to run from the darkness.

Surrounded By Everyone but Still Alone J. Hannah

Slap, slap, slap, the rubber souls of my old, torn, ragged shoes hit the ground, my long black silky hair wiped through the wind. I’m so glad to be out of the house, I hated it, after my dad lost his job are family moved from New York to a shabby shack of a house in Middletown. I felt like nobody was there for me. While I was trying to organize my thought’s I sat down on the curb of the road. “Hey.” I looked up, Zachary Miller looked down at me. He looked at me his dark brown comforting eyes that made me relax. He fixed his perfect dark hair and looked at me. I stood up and fixed my top and smoothed out my jean shorts. “What’s wrong?” he said. “Oh nothing,” I said. Then out of the blue my dog runs up and started to jump and nip at me, as I desperately try to shake her off of me. “Really?” he said as I shook the dog from my leg. “Stop!” I muttered and shook the dog harder off my leg. “Is this a bad time?” he said backing up. “No,” I said embarrassed. I scuffled around trying to distract the dog, “Go home!” I yelled. “OK,” Zach said putting his hands in the air as if he were innocent. “No, no,”I said, “the dog,” I said as I pushed her away she growled and jumped up and started to bark. “Shut up,” I screeched at the dog and kicked her. She started to whimper and I looked into hurt fearful eyes. “Maybe I should go” he said as he gave the dog a sorry frown. I approached the dog but she cowered away. “No, don't go,” I called but he looked over his shoulder and shook his head no and looked at me like I had disappointed him. I buried my face in my knees and rocked back in forth like a baby. Hot salty tears reminded me of home, my friends, and the happiness that was now slipping out of my hands. The summer sun sank and drowned, but the moon had not risen. Again? I was alone. Again.

Tension Insia

The runner is in position All ready to go Competitors nervous about how to row It’s a race, a big race The lake is calm As the whistle blows The hands move As the boat sails far Nowhere to be seen.

Unnatural Selection Bo

A cyclone of fear, With nothing to stop it. The winds do not cease, The downpour does not end. The terror is all consuming, So the shock will not stop. Only instinct is left now, And knowledge means nothing. With the weak struck down, Only the truly strong are left. And eventually, they will again, thrive.

Seven Days to Live Mariah

It all happened in slow motion. I was running down the field when I felt light headed, tripping over my own feet, falling to the ground, then my body smacking to the ground. I lay there for a second, feeling my head throbbing, my lungs bursting, my leg burning. Kneeling down, I get ready to sprint, and shoot my myself up. “Ahhh....” I howl in pain and fall back to the ground. Coach comes over with a soccer ball in her hand and asks me what’s wrong. “I just tripped and hit my thigh, like, really hard.” I explain. Coach tells me to go into the locker room to check out my leg. In the school, I lift up my soccer shorts and discover a colossal bruise the width of my thigh, almost to my knee, along with the colors of yellow, purple, and blue combined. Coach comes in and looks at me in horror. “Ummmm.... Let me call your mom. I think you should probably go to the doctor.” I gulp and nod my head hesitantly. Twenty minutes later my mom shows up at the school, and demands to see the bruise. Again, I lift up my shorts and show her. She, too, looks at me in horror, sympathetic, and clearly upset. “How hard did you fall again?” she asks. I lift up my fingers and pinch them together to show her just a little bit. We both load up in the car and find ourselves in the ER. After taking my weight and height, and other medical questions, the doctor arrives in place of the nurse. An hour after poking and prodding my bruise, she asks me to leave the room to talk to my mother privately. I sit outside the door and try to eavesdrop. “Do any of her family members have Wilson’s Disease?” I hear the doctor mumble. I now hear my mother speak, “Well, her grandfather on her father’s side had it, but he died eight years ago.” “Did you ever had her checked for it?” the doctor asks, speaking more rapidly. “Wellllllll......... No.” my mother responds hesitantly. “Oh dear.” I hear no more from the doctor, or my mother. “Olivia?” I come back into the room. The doctor takes a deep breath, and I brace myself for what’s coming. My mother sits down beside me, her hand in mine. “Olivia, due to your tests, and the colossal bruise on your leg, I’m afraid to say that you have Wilson’s Disease.” I stop breathing for a second. “Uhm.. Not to sound stupid or anything, but what is it?” The doctor goes on to explain that Wilson’s Disease is an inherited disease where there is too much copper in my bones. I glance at my mother then say, “People still live with that, right? Like, with medical help and stuff?” Again, I hold my breath for the answer. “Yes and no.” the doctor responds, “But, your case is very severe, and again, I am sorry to say...... that you have seven days to live.” Instead of breathing out, I burst out crying, along with my mother, although maybe even harder then me. “I am so sorry.” whispers the doctor, tears in her own eyes. She leaves the room. My mother grabs her purse and we leave the hospital. “Alright,” says Mom, roughly wiping her tears from her face, “we are not going to sit at home for seven days with the lights off, watching movies.” I nod my head rapidly, obviously agreeing. In the car, my mom leans back against her seat and closes her eyes.

“So what do you want to do? Anything, really.” she asks her eyes still closed. Now, it’s my turn to close my eyes and think. “Mom, I would really like to see Time Square, at night, with like, all the lights on and everything.” I imagine a world full of color and movement, everywhere. “All right,” replies my mother, “enough said. But first I have to stop at the bank.” Once we are there, she picks up $700; all of my bank account. She looks over at me, asking for approval. I nod solemnly, knowing that I won’t be able to use it anyways. Then we are on the road, and two hours later, we arrive. Mom parks in the Marriott parking garage, and we walk in to the hotel itself. At the check in desk, she asks for room with one king bed, and a jacuzzi, along with letting the clerk know that our stay will be for only one night. After we receive our key, my mother and I step into the room, and we both gasp. The room is gorgeous, and right on Time Square, so all night, I can stare at the lights until I am fulfilled. My mother breaks the silence by saying, “Well, lets go shopping. We didn’t exactly pack.” We both smile at the thought. Naturally, we use the elevator and walk out the door onto the street. Mom signals for a taxi, who shows up almost immediately, as if the driver knows we are rushed for time. The driver, who’s name is Raul, drops us off at the nearest Abercrombie and Fitch. As soon as we walk inside, Mom says to pick anything at all. In the end, I buy a shirt, a pair of jeans, a sweater, a sweatshirt, a skirt, and a cute blue and gray bikini, for the jacuzzi of course. By the time I am done shopping, it is nearly dinnertime. “I want to take you somewhere special.” Mom says. After the 20 minute taxi ride, we arrive at a restaurant named Carmine’s. “This is where your father and I first met.” After the five years that my mother has been divorced, this is the first time she has spoken of my father, who now is in rehab down in Georgia. At the restaurant, we sit down and order spaghetti and meatballs which comes out “family style”, on a heaping plate. We eat and talk for an hour, then head back to the hotel to try out the jacuzzi. In our new bathing suits , we slide into the jacuzzi and talk. “Mom, what’s the one thing you regret most in life, with like, your own family?” She sighs for a moment and thinks. “I really wish that I reconnected with my brother after Dad died. I guess it wasn’t really his fault that they got in a car accident.” This happened only two years ago. I think for a minute. “You have to promise, that after I die, you fix it,” I order. My mom nods her head rapidly, tears filling her eyes. After our jacuzzi, it is time for bed. I lay, facing towards the glass door, in time for the Time Square lights to come on. I am going to die in six days, I think to myself. Then, I fall asleep. The next morning, we wake up early, to hit the road as soon as we can. On the highway, I ask if I could call my father, down in Georgia, one last time, hoping he’s not drunk. My mother hesitantly hands me her cell phone and I get the number from an operator. After passing through a secretary, to a nurse, I finally hear a man’s voice. “Hello, dad?” The man responds. “Yeah, a long time ago.” I continue, “Hi, it’s Olivia. And I have a few things to tell you.” He’s quiet for 20 minutes while I tell my story. “Oh, Olivia. I am so sorry.” I stay quiet on the line.

“I can’t afford to come up to see you, and I don’t think they’ll let me. I know that I can’t make up the five years that I haven’t been a good father. But there is never a day when I don’t think of you and I am completely honest when I say that I love you.” Tears now fill my eyes and I say in a trembling, whispering, voice, “I love you too.” My mom darts her eyes over to me immediately, and holds her hand out, signaling she wants to talk to him. “Mom wants to talk to you.” My dad sighs and says, “All right. Goodbye, Olivia.” I hand the phone over to Mom, who talks to him for a few minutes before saying goodbye. That day, we watch movies, from day to night. Day seven, I am in the hospital, thinking about my previous week. Reconnecting with my dad, and knowing that my mom and my uncle will be brother and sister again. This whole week, I have been trying to live life to the fullest. My mom sits next to my bed on emerald green, velvet chair, eyeing all the IV’s connected to me. I smile at her and she smiles back. I look at all the flowers and stuffed animals my family has dropped off to me. Now it is only my mom and I in the angel white, sterile, room. The clock reads 10:30 PM. I think, Maybe I will make it to eight days. Again, I look over to my mom, and weakly, whisper, “I love you with all my heart.” My mother responds, “I love you too, with all of my heart, to the moon and back.” I smile. My mom starts singing the lullaby she sung to me when I was baby. I look up at the ceiling, feeling rather sleepy. Finally after seven days, I close my eyes and fall into a peaceful sleep.

Martyr Omar

With Friends lying behind you And Enemies in your sight You pull a trigger And then a person dies With cries of pain all around you You don’t know when you’ll die For when you are dead you will remember Those that you fought to protect Enter you my heaven Enter you my garden

The Chaotic Crash Mark My grandmother limped out of the door of the West Palm Beach condo, moving slowly, and watching the ground closely for things that might trip her. When she reached the minivan, she realized she had forgotten the car keys and had to go back to get them. When she finally arrived, she dropped the keys beneath the car, swore, and had to have Mom pick them up. I scampered into the booster seat in the back, while Nanny climbed into the driver’s seat and fumbled with the keys. Mom said to her “Mom, are you sure you don’t want me to drive to the restaurant?” Nanny responded “Yes, deary, I am absolutely certain I want to drive”, and I realized that her voice was hostile and defensive. Nanny fumbled with the gear shift in the middle of the car, trying to get it from park to drive, and finally started to drive. As the condo faded away in the torrential downpour of rain, I could feel the car swerving back and forth slightly. The car drove along the road through the thick rain for about ten minutes, and the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers lulled me into a light sleep. I woke up later on, and I did not know how long I had been asleep. We were at a busy intersection, closing in on a red light, and cars were zooming rapidly by. I could see the restaurant right on the other side of the intersection. I realized I was starved and would love some good food. I was in the middle of imagining a stack of pancakes when everything went wrong. Nanny was driving forward, and I wondered, “Did the light turn green?” I glanced up at the traffic light. It was red. I was mortified. Mom screamed, “Mom, stop the car now!” There was a red Corvette closing in on us, and Nanny saw the horrible danger far to late to do anything to evade a collision. The driver in the other car slammed on the brakes and the Corvette made a screeching sound on the pavement as it tried to stop, but there was not enough time. The Corvette crashed into the passenger side of our minivan. We were all thrown against the wall on the driver’s side, airbags shot out, and the minivan flipped over onto its roof. My seat belt broke, and I fell to the ceiling of the car that was now the floor. I banged my head hard, and my right arm felt broken. I got myself up, and glanced around. Nanny and Mom were both lying against the airbags covered in nasty scratches and with torrents of blood flowing from their noses. “Are they dead?” I asked myself. “Why aren’t they moving?” I went to open the door nearest me, and when I started opening it, it just fell clean off. I staggered out, tripped, and skinned my knee on the asphalt. I could not find the strength to lift myself up again. Then everything around me faded away. I thought,“Am I dying?” and then I blacked out. I woke up a while later in a bed in a hospital room. I had bandages all down my arms and legs, and another one on my head, and there was a sling on one of my arms. At first, I did not remember what had happened, but soon it all came rushing back to me. I wanted to know whether or not Mom and Nanny were alive. Then the door swung open and a doctor stepped into the room. The doctor said, “I’m glad to see you’re awake. That was a nasty car crash you got in there. You have some fractured bones, internal bleeding, and a broken arm, but you’ll

live. Your Grandma and Mother are alive. Unfortunately, they have whiplash and some nasty bruises. They’ll both need to stay here for a while, and so will you� Then the doctor left the room and closed the door. I stayed in the hospital bed for several days, and eventually they let Mom, Nanny, and me out. I never found out what happened to the people in the other car. When I returned from Florida to Connecticut, I had one unwanted souvenir in the form of the ugly, arm cast.

Hurry Up Summer Sarah Summer time, It’s almost here. Damp, hot air Paradise. Cold, frigid winds, We don’t want you any more. When will it come? From rainy, cold days To warm, sunny weather. It feels like forever. I want to play In the sand, On the beach, Through the waves, Instead of scraping cold, dry mud off my feet. I want to dive Into a clear, open pool Instead of going to school. I want to go on vacation. I’m done with homework aggravation! Please, I’m begging, Hurry up summer!


The Independent Day School’s Literary Magazine



Student literary Magazine

Read more
Read more
Similar to
Popular now
Just for you