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Sketch: A Seussastein Shelebration! INVITATION SHEL SILVERSTEIN If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . . If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, For we have some flax golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!

The 2013 King George High School Literary Magazine

Credits Screening, Editing Layout & Design

Ms. Hand’s Creative Writing II: Genni Askin Stephanie Avery Katie Bailey Mackenzie Broderick Katie Cooke Eleni Johnson We would like to thank:

The KGHS Art& Craft Design Students for their amazing artwork, as well as all KGHS students who were brave enough to submit their work for all to see. You put your heart and soul into your work, and sharing it with the world is not always easy. We have some awesomely talented students here and we are so proud of you. We hope you are proud too. Mrs. Jessie Reter-Choate for spearheading the English Department’s Coffee House scholarship event, year after year. None of this would have happened without you. We hope you enjoy your retirement and know that you will be sorely missed. All those friends, family members, teachers and mentors who inspire, shape, and support us. We promise your efforts were worth it. And our readers, thank you for indulging us. Enjoy!


Contents Words of Wisdom & Lessons to Live By

There & Back Again Arrival to Auschwitz: Collin 5 DeWaters Brokenheartz: Stephanie Avery 5 Nightmare: Carley Johnson 5 The Cold: Jonah Bryant 5 These Are Not the Reasons Why I 6 Love You: Ephraim Hall Petr’s Diary: Chadd Burrell 6 Cop-Out: Mackenzie Broderick 7 Going Home at Last: Alena Sigsby 7 Untitled: Morgan Sisemore 7 There Were Screams: Jenna Heiston 7 Terror: Glenna Shelton 8 Puzzled: Elissa Davis 8 Afro-Muslim Man: Stephanie Avery 8 True Care: Elissa Davis 8 World’s End: Stephanie Avery 9 Ballerina Dreams: Brittney Miers 9 Flight: Hannah Morgan 9 Spider Sister: Hannah Morgan 9 Friendship: Elissa Davis 9 Bad: Genni Askin 10 Falling: Dylan Simonds 10 Rebirth: Brittany Chiarizia 11 Sorrow: Hannah Morgan 11 Summer’s Gone: Tabitha Hill 11 Summer: Chad Perry 11

Untitled: Aurora Paterson 12 Sea of Specks: How to 12 Remember What You Will Never Forget: Stephanie Avery Giant Buck: Chad Perry 12 The Path to Darkness: Ephraim 12 Hall Freedom: Shannon Levi 12 Wisdom: Anonymous 13 Love Sucks: Mackenzie Horner 13 Swearing Poem: Hannah Morgan 13 Into Darkness: Genni Askin 14 Remember: Amber Breeden 14 Trench Coat– Keeping the 15 Outside Out: Sheamus Coleman Joy: Ruth Misch 16 The Truth: Elissa Davis 16 The Life We Love: Anonymous 16 Embarrassment: Hannah Morgan 17 Love: Elissa Davis 17

Against the Grain & Out of the Box Human Canvas: Joey Washington 24 Love Sucks: Vicki Garino 24 French Revolution: Stephanie 24 Avery When Angels Scream: Genni 25 Askin Nerd: Katie Bailey 27 These Are Not the Reasons I 27 Love You: Alex Aucoin Silly Hipster Poem: Genni Askin 28


These Are Not the Reasons 28 Why I Love You: Joseph Washington View From Above: Sara Francis 28 What a World: Travis 30 Schroeder

Whimsy & Absurdity Echo: Genni Askin 31 Precious Gift: Eleni Johnson 31 A Wave of Detergent: Taylor 31 Courtney The Potato & The Unicorn: 32 Brandi Merz These Are Not the Reasons 32 Why I Love You: Brittney Burrell Emotions: Elissa Davis 32 Jealousy: Anna Mae Koon 33 Your Sound: Chase Knop 33 White: Amy Neel 33 Untitled: Hannah Morgan 34 Blame: Kendall Powell 34 Summer Sensory is Calling: 34 Alex Dillenschnider Summer Fish: Taylor Courtney 34 Winter: Joseph Washington 34 You’re So Far, But Yet So 35 Close: KiYahh Scott Winter: Cameron Rucker 35 Untitled: Katie Cooke 35


There & Back Again Arrival to Auschwitz Collin DeWaters

our souls They bounce up into the atmosphere making the stars shine against the night sky But I have never seen you before Never known you With our broken heartz And our ragged souls We need each other To heal each other I love you

I had a very happy childhood until the war broke out. Then, I had to keep guard while the men prayed. The Reich’s picked my brother up and sent him to a camp. I handed him bread through the train’s window and that was the last I saw of him. “There are 80 of you in this wagon; if anyone is missing you will be shot like dogs!” Wheels ceased. “You’re at a concentration camp: Auschwitz,” Nazis barked. His heart raced. Two thousand died daily at Auschwitz.

Nightmare Carley Johnson Shattered windows. Hurling rocks. Their pleading screams, “Please don’t kill me.” Trembling mothers. Sobbing cries. The sirens wailing. Old and young dragged outside. Life becomes an eternal nightmare.

Brokenheartz Stephanie Avery Like a splash of fresh water I am always so alone It’s almost unreal that you’re here For we are the same I know you from somewhere You have the same scars We have the same brokenness We are imperfectly perfect together Denied by all Defined by nothing less than what makes living life so great Pushed to the edge It is here that we have made our home Here where we dance and thrive Off of the fumes that emanate from

The Cold Jonah Bryant Frozen snow under my hoofs Master fallen long ago Alone, I struggle through the sheets of white Fur freezing Heart slows I know I want to carry on Yet my body fails me My strength abandoned me far behind Only my will carries me on


Alone, I struggle Alone

These Are Not the Reasons Why I Love You Ephraim Hall In it he wrote About his happiness, About his sadness. In it he wrote Through the summer, Through the fall, Until it came, The dreaded winter That took Petr away. I read it now At the start of spring, I see the last page Of which he ever wrote. I see his last thoughts; Unfinished and lost And I remember, I remember the winter That took him away. That winter was long, That winter was harsh, And through it all, Not once, Not ever Did I see him. My dear brother Petr That left too soon. As I look at this, This unfinished thought, I add one sentence. One thought. One memory. “Petr never came home.”

I like your smile I like your style But these are not the reasons I love you. I like your ability to cook I like how you can express yourself. But these are not the reasons I love you. I like your family and friends I like your love of animals But these are not the reasons I love you, I like that you know how to take care of yourself I like the way you sing to me But these are not the reasons I love you I like it when you make me laugh I liked it how you accepted me for who I was But these are not the reasons I love you. I like you for all of these things But these are not the reasons I love you I love you for something much much deeper Something I can’t ever explain My life will never be the same without you.

Petr’s Diary Chadd Burrell A diary. That’s all that’s left Of my dear brother My dear brother Petr.


Cop-Out Mackenzie Broderick

familiar face. He wasn’t there, but she’d known he wouldn’t be. Never again. The pain of all she’d lost pinched her heart until she could barely breathe, and her vision swam for a moment. A hand fell on her shoulder, and she jumped, her head clearing quite suddenly. Her mentor looked at her with tired eyes and said, “It’s time to go home.” “All of us,” she said, nodding slowly. And with her hand in her wolf’s fur, she followed all the others around her, glad to be going home at last.

I said I hated who I’d become. I lied. I hated who I was.

Going Home At Last Alena Sigsby A sound like thunder rang out across the land, shaking the earth, the sea, the sky. When the dust finally settled, she pushed herself up from the ground, touching the tender spot on her sorehead where it had cracked against the hard-packed earth. She wasn’t surprised to see it came away with blood. The gray wolf seemed to rise up from the darkness as he came toward her, his calm walk achingly familiar. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she paid them no mind as she pressed her forehead against the wolf’s, burying her numb fingers in his scruff. It’s over, his soft voice whispered in her mind. “I know.” She kept her face against his, her eyes squeezed shut tightly. Even she when heard the shifting around her and the hushed voices, she kept her tear-streaked face hidden, taking comfort in her wolf-friend who had returned after far too long. Time to go, the wolf whispered. She nodded her head, and he nudged her to her feet, letting her lean heavily against him. Her legs were still too weak to support her on their own, and besides, she lacked the will to move on her own. Their trembling mimicked that of her fingers as she gripped the wolf’s scruff even tighter. With their calming their quacking, she looked around, searching for a

Untitled Morgan Sisemore I had a family. I had them in my hands. I feel like crying. The sirens wail as if her paralyzed look might stop what cannot be stopped. The Auschwitz “angel of Death” blackness. Your number was the only name. Jew. They put us to work crematorium four and five, their screams become one, pushed out like garbage. We survived hell. We were a happy family, and never shall I forget. Dear Mother, little brother, I’ve come here to mourn.

There Were Screams Jenna Heiston Screams. Doors were knocked down. Everything caved in. That night. Flesh and beard. Razor. Hear the screams. Gone.


And have enough passion to fill two moons You speak the language of love and my own You are no stranger to sadness You find comfort in your art And early in the morning When you fall asleep The sound of your breathing keeps me up for hours You are beautiful You had to be made for me

Terror Glenna Shelton We were a happy family, and never shall I forget the sirens wailing. The darkness slowly thickening, we had disappeared. All the marching feet pushed out like garbage. A large pit. Bullets being fired. People falling. We must not give up hope. Hand in hand. I watched the darkness fade. We actually survived.

Puzzled Elissa Davis

True Care Elissa Davis

I’ve only knTwo paths Oh no which one Left or right Right or left No, that one is hateful Take the left No, it’s fine, popular and cool Stay on it Hurry up your running out of time for your life test Take the left path and do what is right Exactly right path is what every person does Now if you’re listening to your conscience like this person is, Which path would you take Right or left The right which is full of wrong or the left. Just remember three rights don't make a right But three lefts sure do

I’ve only known you for one year But one year is enough From losing grandpa Which was very tough But we are there for each other No matter what we are going thorough For I call this true care For I’m not lying, for this is the truth And I tell you about what I’m going through In my life And you listen to me Like a true cousin should be like For I know God will care As shows me in his works But you don’t know how much people care

Afro-Muslim Man Stephanie Avery You tall, light-skinned, brown-eyed man With hair that hangs down your back Your eyes are as soft as the sky You know every song ever written


catch the air; delicate beings float along through floral springs airy as a breeze, to perch on pink petal with ease

Spider Sister Hannah Morgan

Here on this careless earth But you showed me opposite That some people do care And that’s why you show me Your True Care

Inky black coffin stains the smooth female fingers, spiderfingers spinning webs to snare. They are lined in unseen calluses, burned by cigarette butts, yet softened to stroke baby skin. The spider turned a butterfly and took a flight away on the Perfect Vacation, without me. Miss Spider, when will I see you again? Little sister, you will see me again.

World’s End Stephanie Avery Deep within myself In the recesses of my mind My subconscious The part of me no one knows There is you You who has been there all along Deep and heavy It is time to go home And I know You will take me there

Friendship Elissa Davis

Ballerina Dreams Brittney Miers

Friendship is special Yes including me And no, friendship is not a boat of friends Headed out to sea Some take it for granted That’s not a good thing you see If I had lost my friend It’s a brick house between her and me See friends are guardian angels They’re their through thick n’ thin They’re there NO matter what I’m going through That’s friendship

When she grows up she wants to be a ballerina everything her mom ever dreamed of she little girl feels free and whimsical as she dances across the stage The mother was once the same young, free-spirited and clueless mother is afraid of the outcome she sees dancing and thinks how she never became; Exhausting and a waste of time.

Flight Hannah Morgan flight Stained-glass wings


Bad Genni Askin They told me to write, so I will. They told me to hush, so I did. I do everything They tell me to do because I can’t listen to myself. I’m not allowed to do what I want. “What I want is bad.” They say. What I did was bad. I am bad. Bad Bad Bad So I do what They say. I take pills and shots and am good. I will be good. I have to be good. Because I have been bad in the past. I was very bad. Bad to mom, bad to daddy, and bad to Charlie I was very bad to Charlie. He was always better than me. Always smarter. Always faster. All anyone talked about was Charlie. Charlie this, Charlie that. Mom and dad treated him better because they loved him best. It was never about me, only Charlie. I did not exist, but I wanted to. I wanted to be noticed. I wanted to be loved, but Charlie always got in the way. I hated Charlie. I wanted mom and dad to love me like they loved him. Charlie didn’t deserve that much love. He didn’t share. Charlie didn’t deserve to be happy. I was jealous of how much mom and dad loved him, so I was bad. Bad to Charlie. Bad Bad Bad I glued his CD’s to the wall. I ripped up his homework. I spilled water on his computer. I messed up his room. I did everything my brain told me to. Mom and dad yelled at me, and Charlie was always mad, but I was happy. They finally noticed me. But then my brain told me to hurt Charlie. It said I’d be loved if I did. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to hurt him, but my brain wouldn’t forget. Hurtcharliehurtcharliehurtcharliehurtcharliehurtcharliehurtcharliehur tcharliehurtcharliehurtcharlie It said that if Charlie was gone than mom and dad would love me best. If I wanted mom and dad’s love, then Charlie had to go away. And my brain told me how to do it too. It said I had to burn Charlie away. So I did. I pulled the curtains off the window and stuffed them in the crack under his door. It took two whole matches, and my brain applauded me when the fabric finally began to burn. I should have run, but I didn’t. I needed to wait. Wait until Charlie was

gone. There were no windows in Charlie’s room, and I left when he started screaming. I was bad. Bad Bad Bad And mom and dad didn’t love me more. I sat alone at the funeral. Then They came, and mom and dad didn’t even say goodbye when They took me away. They said I was bad Bad Bad Bad Charlie was dead because I was bad. And now I do what They say. Because my brain is bad. I can’t listen to it. It makes me bad. Mom and dad don’t love me anymore because I was bad Bad Bad Bad Now I live in the room with white. They watch me. They watch me all the time. They tell me what to do and what to say and what I want. “What I want is bad” They say. What I did was bad. I am bad. Bad Bad Bad

Falling Dylan Simonds That time of the year when the leaves begin to change and fall off the trees. The smell of the sweat from practice and the Friday night football games. The fun of being in the peaceful woods looking for the wildlife. The weather is perfect it feels like a cool breeze on a sunny day. The fields of fresh corn and the harvest moon appears in the night sky. The joy of the changed weather and days getting shorter.


Cool pools, sun glowing Summer’s almost here. Bathing suits, basketball, blue sky Summer’s here, summer’s here. Beaches, moonlight, dancing Summer’s almost gone Jobs, college, future Too bad, summer’s gone.

Rebirth Brittany Chiarizia Rain that colored her made her refreshed. She enjoyed the sweet sound of quiet, the touch of smooth soft rain on her skin, the feelings of calm and relief. Streets are empty also quiet she’s all alone, but still the smooth soft rain on her skin colored her made her feel refreshed.

Summer Chad Perry Packing up the cooler Backup the truck to the jet ski trailer Pick up my friends, goin’ to the river Back the trailer down the ramp Push it into the water Start it up, listening to that 1050 cc motor runnin’ Try and throw my friends off the tube Goin’ in a circle and hit the water really fast Cold water hitting my face

Sorrow Hannah Morgan Sorrow is a summer night With biting bugs and muggy air that warms And suffocates. The dark descends and never ends. I wander, blind and lost within The choking, burning blackness. Starry sky, too far high, Always out of reach; All is broken, until Dawn breaks.

Winter Kelsey Moore The leaves have fallen They don’t grow back Haunting chills That feel like ice Sleet and blizzards Whisper of an everlasting cold A never ending white Existence has left Snowflakes are winter’s expressions Falling from the clouded skies No signs of cold ever fading

Summer’s Gone Tabitha Hill Ice cream, cookout, Six Flags Summer’s almost here.


Words of Wisdom & Lessons to Live By Slowly getting closer… Ch, ch, ch… Ch, ch… massive tan head comes through the brush 10 yards away from me, the tan monster with huge antlers looks up slowly as I raise my shotgun Aiming for the heart, I pull the trigger The monster’s heart explodes like a broken watermelon

Untitled Aurora Paterson Through a blacked out night I return to you Amid slivers of glass Life withdrawn from dark eyes And I saw The Auschwitz “Angel of Death” Bullets fired All the time Acquaintances have parted I watched the darkness fade Never shall I forget

The Path to Darkness Ephraim Hall Coming out of hell Expressions gone Trying to figure out our next move Broken hearts made us gloomyminded I look to the left I look to the right There was nothing but darkness Six people, six sins Six animals, six dead spirits What’s wrong with our life?

Sea of Specks: How to Remember What You Will Never Forget Stephanie Avery Often times When I look up at the sky The stars enthrall me And how big it all is How small I am I often forget that I am nothing but a speck In a puddle of specks On the shore O a sea Of specks

Freedom Shannon Levi There was nobody left in the once crowded camp. Everyone was stabbed or beaten. There was no point in crying, for God was not on our side anymore. No more love or thanking. Every bit was gone. All we could think about now was

Giant Buck Chad Perry 5:30 in the morning, still dark 17 feet from the ground, just waiting Ch, ch, ch… Ch, ch… The beast is coming Adrenaline rushing like your heart is going to explode


here to Celebrate a wonderful new beginning?” Love sucks because you are easily forgotten Especially by those you love the most Never to be thought of again Without an explanation You’re left dangling, wondering “What did I do wrong?” Unexpecting and very surprising Hidden behind a mask, your love I thought you could never hurt me But I was wrong Very wrong Love sucks because you used me to get to someone, someone you wanted more Some one who didn’t care about you or me You are not the onle one at fault You both are You both are You both took my heart and shattered it While I wasn’t looking On the ground you all danced on my heart The shattered stained glass window All the colors mixed together in a jumbled mess Love sucks….

Wisdom Anonymous I am acquainted with Wisdom, Though he doesn’t like my company but he comes when I call, If I am loud enough. He wines and complains how he should run the world, And that if he could he’s be in ever house hold. If they’d allow him. Common Sense is his brother Compassion is his sister, we are good friends. Wisdom complains I don’t call enough, and says I am impervious to his brother. Though he tells me about his other friends. George Washington, Martin Luther King and Julius Ceasar (for a time) and many others He says I have the makings to be his friend. Says I should call more often. When I don’t he has no need around.

Swearing Poem Hannah Morgan

Love Sucks Mackenzie Horner

Aw, cuss, Or fill-in-the-blank. Pick your own poison It’s all coarse and rank A single condemnation Driving blade through soul; Chip away the fragments,

Surprising yet expected Loving but can be hurtful still A surprise birthday party though no one comes As you sit there alone you wonder “What did I do wrong? Why is no one


Nevermore be whole. It pains my heart. But what’s the worst part? Now, I rarely take notice.

Into Darkness Genni Askin

in submission to the sun. Until one day It just died. Oh dang I did it again. Sorry? Not really. I’ll write happy when I feel like it. But for now, I’ll just sit in this darkness scribbling away Don’t get me wrong. I like it. No one wants to read about happy flowers. No one remembers poems about simple things Just ask Poe Shakespeare and Lovecraft. Even Stephen King Am I doing this right? I guess I am.

Am I doing this right? This poem, I mean. No one ever taught me. So I’ll just let it flow. And I realize now, as I flip through these pages, that my good ones are quite morbid. Simply dripping with darkness Am I doing this right? I don’t think darkness is bad. Quite comforting actually. Oh well, I guess it’s time to change it up. So this one is about a flower. It was just a seed, but then the sun came out. And that little bud grew and grew until it could grow no more. Then that very same sun Shined on the flower with a new heat. And it began to wilt away. It sagged and bent

Remember Amber Breeden Hand in hand, a thousand of us walked, stopping only as marchers hurl rocks. We’ll die as Jews, in a volley of gunshots. There is no more reason to live,


came known as the Columbine High School Massacre, they shot and killed twelve students and one teacher, injured twenty-one students, where upon they finally killed themselves. Both were wearing trench coats to conceal their weapons. From then on, the image of trench coats was tarnished because society associated people wore them with this horrific tragedy and those who wore them became ostracized. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone who wears a trench coat is an evil, gothic psychopath. For example, I wear mine for different reasons. The main reason I wear my trench coat to be an original—not a copy in today’s society. I believe in being yourself and not caring about what others think of you. Another reason I wear my trench coat is to keep fake people away from so I don’t have to deal with their calumny. Fake friends cause strife and aren’t worth the trouble. Therefore, the people I do attract are genuine and actually take the time to get know me for me, instead of judging me for what I appear to be. The trench coat is more like a shield to me than anything else, protecting me from all evils and falsehoods of the world surrounding me. My trench coat also reflects certain aspects of my personality. Dark, secretive, and intimidating are just some of the similarities between my personality and my trench coat. The dark traits of my personality are more of an alternate way of living and viewing life, which are reflected by my choice in fashion. I’m not really an open person; most of the things I do or say are sub rosa. I’m only intimidating when I have to be; it causes people not to disrespect me and not walk all over me. Trench coat wearers aren’t all stereotypical; their image is tainted by the darkness enveloping the trench coat. Just because I wear my trench doesn’t mean that I’m malevolent by nature or a psychopath. My trench coat is basically my personality in object form. I, myself, am quite the opposite of the general stereotypes that follow the trench coat. I am hard-working, caring, and loving; also, I am thoughtful, helpful, and delightful. Working as Head Tech of the King George High School Theatre Department is

no more reason to struggle. A few crawl from their graves to later tell the world. I was fifteen years old in a blackness never broken. Remember all deprived of burial.

Trench Coat: Keeping the Outside Out Sheamus Coleman A trench coat walks through a crowded hallway; the hallway now looks like the parting of the Red Sea. The people move out of the way either out of fear of the trench coat or out of respect of the owner. The power of a trench coat is undisputable; it causes sensations of dread, fear, respect, disgust, or hatred. Many people have been known to wear a trench coat, such as: the kids involved in the Columbine shooting, Neo from The Matrix, The Punisher from Marvel Comics, and the vampire David from The Lost Boys. My reasons aren’t as popular nor are they malevolent in nature. Stereotypes have followed the trench coat ever since its creation. Stereotypes include evil, goth, punk, emo, psychopath, killer, depressed, secretive, and loner. Stereotypical goths can be described as black garbed, depressed, violent, suicidal, involved in illegal drugs, “vampires,” sadomasochists, and Satanists. Rebellious in nature and rock music addicts are general stereotypical punks. Stereotypical emos are said to wear black outfits, quite emotional, and listen to depressing music. The big claim to infamy for the trench coat was the Columbine shooting in Colorado. On the morning of April 20, 1999, two high school seniors, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold—labeled as goth kids because of what they wore—opened fire upon their school. In what be-


Yes how truthful the flow if it is Gliding through the wind, higher than the twigs Although it sways, like a boat in the water I know how it tends to the ground it Flows. To the ground it goes, again it may never flow Through to the end of its last rise I know it would never lie. At least I will always know how truthful it was Unlike the ending between the two of us.

hard but rewarding; I help build the sets along with my team of workers and painters. I try my best to give a helping hand to those who need it the most; my love for others and helping others stretches past my family and my close friends. I am not simply a wearer of a trench; I am an individual that shows even a weirdo can be happy, eccentric, and funny.

Joy Ruth Misch Joy is a child a happy, bouncing child who doesn’t know hate or anger or envy, whose loving parents are Ignorance and Optimism. Joy is a child that even cynics can’t help but shelter protect and in return, she smiles, and another joyful fool walks away.

The Life We Love Anonymous Today the Gestapo came into our home. They took all of our valuables Then forcefully uprooted us into the street. They set fire to our home and laughed. My family and many other Jews Are forced into ghettos; Faced with annihilation, Cut off from society, From everyone else. We now live in filth Where starvation and Disease is amongst us. We have been robbed from our freedom. We don’t even know who we are. We are like animals sensing a storm, Something terrible is in the air.

The Truth Elissa Davis You say one thing But you do another You change your direction Like the flow of a feather And although the feather falls Like the mid-autumn leaves At least they stay truthful Unlike how you were to me


Of Jesus my father who died on the cross for me. It also means to me begin there for others Like when a friend or family needs us to get together You know the type of get together with one person Because they need a trustworthy person to talk to about an issue. There are many types of Love in this world But I take this word Love Seriously So don’t just throw this word at people When you take it for granite For love is passionate Not for just saying it to someone When you really don’t like a person Because love is not just for fun.

Embarrassment Hannah Morgan Embarrassment, the girl who talks too much, about her cat collection or extra digit or the issues of her Aunt Insecurity, the old hermit. (Embarrassment is her only caller.) She won’t remember your name, or her own—it’s too long. Some, with noticeable frostiness, call her Ember, a name to match her too-small red dress, hued to hide spaghetti stains. It markedly proclaims her presence, a cautionary banner. Her disheveled hair is cropped short to reveal probing eyes and waxen smile. She laughs too much, stands too close, tries too hard for charm. Her ally, Absence, reciprocates with amity. She has a too-big crush on Confidence, Madam Pride’s boy. It will never be. For she is just a too-much girl and her excess spreads distress. It’s best to keep your distance. Avoid her, if you can.

Summer Jacob Fulton Water hangs in the air, Too scared to touch the burning ground. Everywhere you go, You’re covered in sweat and dew. I feel like a towel, Whose purpose is to soak up nature. Washed by the ocean, Dried by the sun. I hate it. Carry me to winter. Where the air is filled with ice, And the only warmth comes from The smoke I breathe and the people I meet. That is home.

Love Elissa Davis What does love mean to you? There are many definitions for it To me it means sacrifice









Against the Grain & Out of the Box Human Canvas Joey Washington

Buying something expensive one day then the price goes down. Getting ready for school then realizing it’s the weekend. Running around in the yard only to step on a rake. Finding buried treasure then opening it to find an I.O.U. Love sucks just like a broken vacuum cleaner.

Colors of paint splatter and spill Dripping down a human canvas She is breathing the paint And feeling every single stream Flow down her body and Through her veins She is the human canvas To be observed To be wondered about and adored She is art

French Revolution Stephanie Avery We are our own Revolution Break free from bondage Shaking loose the chains of disobedience No we will not do what we are told For we are at the edge of the spring of our lives Our beautiful flowers giving way to merciless heat We will die another day So rise up and revel Ill-equipped we fall to our knees Our bones hitting the cold hard ground In puddles of our own blood Defeated We will die another day

Love Sucks Vicki Garino Love is like a sweaty fat man in tight sitting next to you on the bus. Saving a bird from dying only to come home to your cat’s mouth full of feathers. Like holding a baby above your head only to have it to puke in your mouth. Falling asleep at a party, to wake up with marker on your face. Going out to eat and finding a hair in your food. Running into a glass door with hot coffee in your hand. Stubbing your pinky toe on furniture. Your car breaking down, having to walk home in the rain. Eating a worm in your apple, or finding a worm half eaten in your apple.


ue to hum through old speakers even as the Infected scratched at the walls on the other side, their moans hungry for us. I remember climbing one of the only rollercoasters left. It was small, mediocre compared to other rollercoasters in the world. I climbed up to the crest of the hill and looked out, horrified at what I saw. Infected were shuffling towards the wall, their undead bodies pushing against the concrete. The Leaders were confident in the walls. They said that no Infected would be able to penetrate the huge cinder block barriers, but they inadvertently cut us off from the outside world. We went along with it, for it was the Leaders’ job to protect us. We were terrified of the Infected, and watched from the televisions in the Town Center as they began to consume the entire planet. But the Leaders assured us that we were safe. They promised that the virus would kill itself and the walls would be torn down soon, and that by summer the whole thing would be over. That was fourteen years ago. *** My eyes opened to the intense sunlight shining in from the window. I was entangled into the sheets and blankets, resting in a cocoon of warmth. I sat up and sniffed the air. Smoke, I thought, inhaling once more. Someone was burning something. It was probably the butchers cooking their freshly slain pigs. “Morning,” Blake greeted, shrugging on his police jacket. He was already dressed. “Where are you going?” I asked, crawling across the bed to meet him on the edge. “Some people work for a living,” he chuckled, leaning down to kiss me, the taste of his presence remaining on my lips even after he pulled away. “Do you have to go?” I pouted. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want to be alone. He was standing next to the bed, and I was on my knees on top of the covers, my arms slung around him, re-

When Angels Scream Genni Askin He was a gentle man, the carnival owner. Most people, when they reached his age, grew old and bitter, waiting for their inevitable death, but he took to it gracefully. Even when he became ancient and had to use a cane to get from place to place, children were still drawn to him. He never married, never had kids, but in his eyes we were all his grandchildren. I remember sitting on his lap one lazy afternoon, watching the carousel as it spun around idly, the plastic horses rocking up and down. I asked the owner how he could live to be so old. “Well, Molly,” he chuckled, motioning to a pack of children spinning around in teacups, their faces illuminated by smiles, “who else will keep this place open?” “Will it be open forever?” I slurred, imagining a land with swing rides that never closed and fun slides that never ended. “Forever,” he agreed. And for a while, he was right. The owner kept the carnival open. Even after the virus began to corrupt the minds of those around us, the rides kept going. Even after the Infected began to rise and walk the earth, the dinky prizes still swayed in the wind. He told us that even in this horrible situation, the carnival would provide a sense of normalcy to us. Like the Event would never affect, or infect, the aroma of hazy lights and happy music that surrounded the carnival like a protective shield. But then the Leaders decided to board up the town. They constructed massive concrete walls along the perimeter, locking us in. Even though it was trapped behind the stone dividers, the carnival stayed alive. The music would contin-


fusing to let go. He laughed as he curled his arms around my body. His mouth resting at my neck, “I’ll be back before you know it,” he purred. My mouth opened to respond, but the walkie talkie on the counter flicked on and a steady stream of static filled the entire house, buzzing angrily at us. Blake frowned curiously, removing my hands from him and making his way into the kitchen. I followed him silently as he picked up the device and turned a dial. Slowly, the static morphed into noises. A heavy voice was shouting numeral sequences that didn’t make sense, demanding that all available officers report to the gate immediately. “What’s going on?” I asked, hugging myself worryingly, but Blake didn’t answer. He was busy talking into the static, saying that he’d be there soon. There was another shout from the walkie talkie, someone was frantically begging for help. Blake spoke into it again, but there was no longer anyone responding. Only the static remained. “Blake?” I asked again. The siren blasted across the town, making every air particle around explode with the sheer intensity of it. It drowned out any thought that crossed my mind. I had never heard the siren. I remember watching the Leaders attach them to the corners of the barriers, and over the years I had watched them rot away. The Leaders thought about removing it, because the walls protected us so well. But now it wailed angrily, signaling for all panic to erupt. “Blake,” I said, but he was deep in thought, as if he couldn’t hear the siren at all. “The Leaders told us that it was just a village.” He moved to the window, gazing out into the rest of the town, “The sirens wouldn’t go off for a village.”

“What do we do?” I asked. The town had never had a breach. The walls have never been penetrated. No one knew what to do, and without a word, he grabbed my arm and headed out the door. The siren was louder once outside of his house, and the sight was just as terrifying. “The Leaders were wrong,” I gasped, my grip on him tightening. Behind the gate, Infected were piling up over one another. The masses of undead easily reached the top and fell over the concrete barriers. It was raining Infected, and the pure thought of it sent a ripple of fear throughout my body. Once they reached the ground, the Infected stumbled up, terrorizing the inside of the town. “The Leaders said it was a village that was breached.” Blake’s arm tightened around me. “It was a city.” The smell that I experienced before was not the butchers, but instead a wild fire that ripped through houses and buildings. I didn’t know whether it was started by the panic or by an attempt to kill the Infected, but thick, dense smoke rolled over the land like a poisonous fog. The Infected were making their way throughout the town. Falling from the top of the walls, they attacked the unprepared townspeople, moaning with delight at the sight of blood. An entire city of undead was destroying us. And for a while, we stood still. Blake and I watched as the sea of Infected rushed forward, their deadly forms pouncing on people in packs, tearing at their flesh with a passionate starvation that I did not understand. The angry flames licked at the dry houses. Infected stumbled around, infernos protruding from their limbs. Blake was pulling me back, but I was frozen. Blake yelled my name, snapping me out of the deathly trance that I was caught in. The heat intensified as we ran away from the ocean of dead. There was nowhere to go. The Land of the Dead was teaming with Infected, but people were dying and rising again right in front of us. Before I knew it, my hands felt the


cool stone of the barriers. Blake had pressed me between him and the wall, holding a knife out protectively. I squirmed out of his grasp, coughing from the thick layer of smoke. My eyes widened as I saw the crowd of Infected approaching us. We were waiting for the inevitable. I banged my fists against the concrete. The skin on my hands broke, and my sleeves turned red as blood rushed from the new wounds. The very walls sworn to protect us entrapped us. I stared up, fifteen feet away was salvation; a way out. But it was fifteen feet too far. All around us, Infected were falling from the sky. As if God himself threw them down upon us. I looked at Blake, his expression angry and protective. He didn’t know that this was the end. I screamed as rotting hands grappled my body. Angry nails dug into me, and I could feel blood running down my skin. They pulled me out of Blake’s grasp, our hands wrenched away from each other. I shouted, reaching out for him, but they were dragging him away. I could hear him shouting too as he tried to fight off the massive amounts of Infected that materialized between us. It was no use. This was the end. There were so many hands. The moans drowned out the siren, drowned out the cries of children as they watched their mothers and fathers rise again. The Infected overwhelmed me, their hands tore at my skin, their stench of decay suffocating me. And those teeth, those horrible, horrible teeth.

One day she’ll wish she had. One day they’ll all want to know him. He’ll make it happen. He knows it.

These Are Not the Reasons I Love You Alex Aucoin Starting off in Lumbridge at level 3. Having to run to Varrock to cut some trees. Making all my money from scratch then losing it all to people who scam and take it all. P’king in the wild Get d’dosed and come back to realize I was ramboed, from a spec Merchenting items until I get a purple phat getting lured to have it all and within an instant, it all falls Level 34, doing dragon slayer After hours of running around doing quests I finally got to Elvarg. Attacked the dragon He’s almost gone I am dead These are the reasons Why I hate this most Runescape, I hate you But I love you so.

Nerd Katie Bailey His head is bowed over his book his eyes hidden, his thoughts hidden. No one stops to talk; No one cares, of even Notices. The librarian looks, considers going over to him. She doesn’t.


Silly Hipster Poem Genni Askin

On the canvas To be loved and adored By your creator I love you art

Hipsters here Hipsters there Hipsters running everywhere. They say they are different, and I think that’s just fine. But now I’m gonna tell you that they’ve really crossed the line. If everyone is different, and everyone’s unique, then those that are not hipsters are truly such a freak. So what does that make them? They’re different from the rest. When they refuse to hipsterize are they the ones with zest? This whole thing is confusing But before I say goodbye Let me ask you a question What are you? What am I?

View from Above Sara Francis Oh, how I’d like to watch the world burn. Viewing the city from the top is so boring now. I used to enjoy it: having my food to come, drinking from the finest and slimmest of necks. Everything I wanted at my fingertips. But now I see them, the humans of Chicago, I feel… This is not the first time this has happened; I was young and enjoyed the highest of English fancies. I grew tired of all the laughing and dancing. Then I took a man’s heart from his chest, and found something new to listen to. I didn’t stop until I heard every version of a scream humans could make. Then I started at the bottom again, grew until I could not reach any higher, and then tore myself down. I recognized the cycle long ago, high class to monster, soft to fierce, human to animal. All the way back in the 1700s, and when it came to light, I brushed it off, not caring enough to put even an effort into changing. Why should I change what was working for me? I smirk at the memory, moving for the first time in hours. The last bout of wildness happened in 1902. It was before these terrifying weapons and magical technologies. I had never cared enough, during those times, to conceal myself from authorities. They are just harder prey, something I relish. I wonder, if I were to do this now, would they be able to harm me? Kill me? How interesting…

These Are Not the Reasons Why I Love You Joseph Washington The long nights staying up Because of no imagination Nothing to inspire me to Make you While you sit there blank Nothing on your canvas I stress to create you So I may love you and Your wonderful colors and shapes I creep into my mind To find you And then appear suddenly


with the setting sun, almost completely dark. The room I sent the boy to is lit, and I can hear him puttering around, nervous. Perfectly normal reaction, nothing to distinguish him from the thousands of others. The door opens silently; he didn’t close it all the way. He is standing in front of the window, pawing at the window, trying desperately to get it open. “I’m afraid I’ve put more thought into this than that,” I say, making him jump and spin around to stare at me. His clear eyes are wide and dilated, adrenaline thick in the smell of his blood. “W-what do you wwant?” he asks. One of the two responses: reason it out. Completely normal. Yet I found myself staring at his tensed muscles under middle class clothes, his shifty fearful gaze. His… no. Stay distant. He is food. But still… “What is your name?” I hear my words, but I don’t allow them out, they come on their own. The boy shrinks into the wall, and it sparks anger. It takes only three steps, less than a second, for me to stand in front of him. His loud intake of breath is cut off by my hand around his throat, lifting him up the glass. His fingers claw at my arm, he’s trying to get his precious air. I wait until his eyes toll back before setting him back down, supporting him loosely. “Well?” “Darren,” he gasps. He raises his eyes, looking at me, nodding his head. “Darren.” I pull him forward, letting him fall against the bed. My anger is flaring. What is causing this? This is out of control. I will end this quickly so I can sort through my thoughts in peace. I grab his hair, pulling his neck as far as it could. His pulse is there, flowing quickly through the arteries. I lean down, my teeth, touching his hot skin. Darren takes a shuddering gasp, pressing them closer. Just another five layers of skin and it will be over. We stay like this for five seconds… Why don’t I end it? Ten seconds… He’s nothing.

The door opens, drawing me away from the window. A young man stands nervously inside. Shifting his weight on his feet, he was staring around at the rich interior of the suite before focusing on me. Nothing has ever changed, I always feel satisfied when eye widen at my body. I will never deny that. I smile, a simple lifting of one corner of my mouth, causing his heart beat to increase, allowing me to get a better bearing of his smell. Mmmm… strong and pure, no drugs: healthy. Perfect. “Go down the hall and into the last room,” I order, dropping my voice low. He almost runs out of the room, heading where I directed him, like a puppet on jerking strings. I wonder if that is fear or pleasure? I find myself asking. The thought freezes me. I lost the ability to tell the difference some centuries ago, and again, never cared. It does not matter what makes their hearts beat faster, merely that it does, only that it benefits me. I’ve known that, and still… I am picturing his travel from his life to here. Probably a college student, by his age. I can see my men dragging him to a vehicle, shoving him in, speeding off. Ralph, my ‘speaker,’ knows what I like, I inform him from day to day. He’ll put a gun to the boy’s head, and tell him how to behave, and if he doesn’t he’ll be thrown out of the building and shot. He isn’t told it’s better than the alternative. There must be something wrong with me today, what I am feeling isn’t part of me, gentle or fierce. Why do I want to comfort that boy? Want to know about him? It can’t be anything he did, he did everything all the others before him did, so it must be me. I make my way across the thick carpet. The lights are dimming


Fifteen seconds… Nothing but blood and a body! Twenty… “Please,” he whispers. I throw him away, making him collide with the bedside table. He curls in on himself, expecting me to come at him. He looks pathetic. I no longer care. “Get out,” I order, turning away, leaving him in his stench of fear. I can hear him give one last elated sigh before I exit the room. The hallway is completely dark now, but I walk with perfect ease. Nothing impedes my eyes. I find myself walking back to the same spot I had left, in front of the giant wall of glass. All the pretty little lights start to turn on, man’s way of thinking he can control the dark. A silly notion. As one who lives in the dark, I know it can never be tamed, but let the humans have their safety. Darren walks slowly down the hall and pauses at the door. “Thank you,” he breathes. I spin around, wide-eyed, only to look upon an empty room. I scoff. Deluded human, I didn’t do it for you. But then who was it for? What is the point now? I sigh and turn back to the window, staring down at the lights of cars and the shadows of people passing by. Oh, how I’d like to watch the world burn. So I no longer have to watch it turn.

We think we have found happiness, But it only lasts for a short while. Soon, we move on to something more, Maybe something we haven’t had before, But only ever finding the things which cause distress. One thought she had found salvation, But no one would believe her, And soon she found himself headed toward damnation. Another thought he had found it oo, But then he pulled the trigger, And blew his head in two. What a world we live in. It’s such a violent place, But even in the darkness, Happiness can still put a smile on your face. Though it may seem full of hate, It’s only a good disguise, Waiting for someone to bring it out.

What a World Travis Schroeder

They will surely hide out, Waiting for one to illuminate, To shed that horrible guise, And for once they may be shown That, even in the darkest place, If they just wait with toughness, They can always find a smiling face Just waiting to be known.

We are a race heading toward demise. We are destroying this place. Inside, all we want is to see a smiling face. We never do see that smile.


Whimsy & Absurdity Echo Genni Askin

an innocent smile is painted across her face. As she stands her shadow goes along and shares the joy with her as they both dance around because of their excitement. The bus is finally here and right before I get on, the girl waves to someone in the window smiling from ear to ear. Later a young boy gets off and she runs into his arms, catching her and swinging her around in a slow circle. I get onto the bus, taking my seat, and return my gaze back to the couple. They both sit on the bench, laughing and enjoying each other’s company, then I realized that the precious gift she was waiting for all day had finally arrived.

The twinkling lights only enticed your dreams as wonder and elation bubbled at the seams. But no one foresaw that this clear night would end in such a chilling fright. And when hatred grows as thick as mud, the twinkling night would end in blood. Flowers there, beamed with red as one came out, the other dead. And the only thing left of this lethal wrath? Simply echos of the killer’s laugh.

A Wave of Detergent Taylor Courtney At the super market, An ocean of color Immense walls guide you On either side, to the Front, a cool breeze of Ice whips your hair, Suddenly uneasiness, You realize you can’t Reach the top shelf, As you climb it It gives way and you fall Along with your dignity And a wave of detergent

Precious Gift Eleni Johnson She sits in her pretty blue dress, waiting in the park on the bench as she does every day, anxiously waiting for her precious gift. The bench looks old and rusty with an orange and brown tint to it. She rests on the bench below the trees with the evening breeze blowing in her face. It smells of late blossoms that have bloomed on the tall trees so delicately. The sun is beaming down through the branches covering every inch of her caramelized skin. The wind sends a sweet smell throughout the air, she tilts her head back a bit, closing her eyes and breaths in the soothing aroma. The birds began to sing mesmerizing songs and the sound of children’s laughter fills the air, grown folks having their almost silent conversation to keep it on the hush just adds the extra excitement to the day. Up ahead I see the bus approaching that is finally bringing the sweet moments to an end. As I look over to the girl she is now standing and sees herself that indeed the bus is coming and


“Hurry, Johnny. Shoot it!” The farmer-potato does what he is told and shoots it. The rainbow shatters and becomes skittles. The farmer- potato starts to feel the old him come back. He was covered in the white cloud and transformed back into a man. Farmer-man never hurt another potato again.

The Potato & The Unicorn Brandi Merz Long ago, there lived a man that worked on a potato farm. Every day he would roughly rip the poor roots apart, forever separating the adult potatoes from their babies. One day, he was doing his daily duties when, suddenly, a cloud of sparkly whiteness puffed in front of his face. Some of the glitter got into his eyes, thus making his eyes water. When he was done crying out his glittering eyes, a wizard appeared in front of him. His clothes were made out of potatoes and his hat was French fries. He took his potato wand and spoke to him in s calm voice. “Boy, you better stop doing what you’re doing. You’re hurting my people. They cry to be able to see their babies again. You must pay!” And with a wave of his wand the farmer magically turned into a potato. “You must find a unicorn and shoot at a rainbow to return.” With that, the wizard poofed away, leaves behind a cloud. After a moment of panic, he sees something gallop by his side. It was tall, white as silk, and had a horn in the middle of its forehead. It’s the UNICORN!! “Hop on my back, Johnny, We must find that rainbow. “You’re so manly. Can I have your credit card?” the farmer-potato says with giant eyes. “What? No. Let us go.” Hours turned into days, until finally they find it. It was beautiful that it made both their eyes water.

These Are Not the Reasons Why I Love You Brittney Burrell The first time I saw you Made me fly I was so mesmerized When your eyes met mine My shoes dancing On that stage Was the best feeling My feet ever made But the beat died down And my shoes stepped away I lost my breathe I lived that day You made me stand All through the night Waiting in the crowd Looking for your light Driving Waiting Sitting Hating The time until you came out

Emotions Elissa Davis Have you ever got that feeling Feelings that you couldn’t explain From the pit of your stomach


That feels like pain I call them emotions From inside my brain to my heart Sometimes they’re butterflies That made me want to barf Sometimes it’s anger Most of the time they’re tears I can’t live in fear Your can’t fear fear But fear can fear itself Because if I fear fear Then I hurt myself See emotions aren’t that scary Until you make it seem scary and hurtful But you don’t have to do that When you can just be joyful

you. It describes you like words tell a book; It fills you with adrenaline and tears you down like a crane. It is you; You are it; Embrace the feeling and grasp the moment.

White Amy Neel

Jealousy Anna Mae Koon

The color white moves like a floating Cloud waltzing across the sky. Born in the coldest days of winter, White blanketed the snowy world. Still holding its grip As spring approaches, The cold whiteness turns into a melting sheet, Unrolling miles of colorful flowers. White is like the daylight battle between dark and light. The color white wishes for the peacefulness of the airy sky As it ascends to its throne. The blinding sun hides behind, Shy of the ever staring world. The whiteness is anything but the dark, Scary night with it’s nocturnal eyes. White is a box of new chances; A clean slate promising a bright future. It sings is song of wonderful wishes to all who listen.

It creeps and it crawls It slithers and it follows. It pushes you around Until you reach the gallows It pushes and moves, It screams and it cries. It’s trying to break you. Come on, don’t be surprised. Now that your taken You only will feel, The creep and the crawl As jealousy takes the wheel

Your Sound Chase Knop It runs through your veins; It brings you life; In your moments of weakness you hear it; Like a flash of a camera, it focuses on


Summer Sensory is Calling Alex Dillenschnider The waves smile at me with her pearly white teeth. The clear blue sky cloudless, nothing to help protect from the sun The exception of occasional shade. Children play and taunt each other, extremely thankful for the little breezes The good smell of freshly cut grass The glistening ray of sunlight skipping off the water The smell of heat radiating off bodies.

Untitled Hannah Morgan I picked a bit of sunshine for my mother yesterday, I placed in a box for safe-keeping But it was rather over-bright So I add a dash of twilight and fold it up into a tiny pack. I gave it today, and when she cracked the lid, out burst a shower of kisses upon her open hand.

Summer Fish Taylor Courtney Tis’ the hottest time of year Parched gross, parched people But yet the gross reaches Further to the sun, so we must cut it, The animal, it must constantly Search for water, there is none, Fish, summer is the best time To catch them, If only they could speak, They would curse The fisherman

Blame Kendall Powell Have you met my friend blame? He seems to always be in trouble. Some say he lies, but I don’t agree. He likes to call me and say who did what and when. He sometimes has a smirk on his face, like he did something wrong. He uses his fingers a lot, pointing at his peers. Oh, you don’t like blame, you say? That’s ok, because it wasn’t I who introduced you.

Winter Joseph Washington A fresh white blanket Of snow falls to the ground As children have snowball fights And sled down hills I feel as if I can sit By the fire and enjoy A simple cup of hot chocolate while

Untitled Katie Cooke Some paint with a brush I paint with a razor Some paint on paper I paint on my arm


Snow falls down and another Blanket is set And the trees are naked No leaves to hold Shivering from the cold

You’re So Far, But Yet So Close KiYahh Scott

the morning sun has risen you see your breath fog up your view and the air carries not the slightest sound

You stare at me all day with your sharp knife Pointed towards my strong pale chest The blue coldness of your eyes says you hate me Yet your red pulsating heart says other wise Your flowing red and white sea Moving with the never ending wind from the left of you and the right of me I see the pureness of you It seeps through the white paleness of your sacred skin The love you’re shown and give is like a burning flame You burn thought the strong walls of my heart So dance with the zephyr from the west of you my sweet Remain a strong tower For as long as you stand I stand my red I realize in the hatred of those eyes creeping out in pure starry white Hatred does not like but the pure truth of that navy

Winter Cameron Rucker It is that time again The sky has lost all its life the trees are now bare, lifeless no birds sing their sweet song


We Hope You Enjoyed

Our Shelebration! 36

Sketch: Seussastein Shelebration  

The 2013 KGHS Online Literary Magazine

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