Once Upon a Time

N

e

w

s

l

e

t

t

e

The Literary Magazine of SCH Girls Middle School

r

The Literary Magazine for SCH Girl’s Middle School

This issue of Once Upon a Time proudly presents:

Sun and Moon

Byrd A poem by Sarah

A poem Anonymous Page 3

Segal 5th Page 2

Ghost of the Titanic A story summary

by Julia Barrist 5th Page 3

Stage Fright What it means to A Poem

by Celia Hoffman 6th Page 2

Résumés think like a girl Everywhere A poem by Annie McDonald 6th

Page 3

A story Anonymous Page 4

Deeper A poem Anonymous Page 4

On The Other Side of The Window A poem by Emma Yeatman 7th Page 5

November 2013 Page 5

Page 1

Stage Fright

by Celia Hoffman

I don’t know a lot about acting in a play, but I don’t think I like acting anyway.

I have stage fright.

When I get on stage I basically freeze.

I forget what I’m supposed to do⎯ speaking lines

lifting my feet

turning an arm turning my head

hoping my character will be felt.

These are all prevented because of my stage fright, like last year when we had to do our animal headdress dance

Ghost of the Titanic

by Julia Barrist

Gabrielle Montina has always been a clever girl. After the authorities tell her brother and mother and herself that Gabrielle’s father is dead, Gabrielle’s mom stops thinking straight.

It is up to Gabrielle to take care of her little brother Jake.

Things become even worse for Gabby when she goes on the Titanic, and meets a mirror. Some things on the Titanic aren't always what they seem. Or some people aren't always who they seem to be...

For more information on this book contact jbarrist@sch.org.

There was no one in the audience for practice. I still could not be the chameleon that I had chosen to be.

The fright in me lives in my feet.

I know this because sometimes I have to force myself even to walk across the stage to exit.

If only this fear lived inside a book I’ve already read and won’t open again.

I want most of it to go away, but not all of it.

Sometimes its imagination talks to me, tells me to do what I’m better at⎯ using the camera and working the curtain⎯ all the things that have stage fright, too.

Byrd

by Sarah Segal

Remember playing with Sophie her saying “baby hands” her chasing after red objects.

I remember Sophie wearing the ruby red necklace.

I remember whirling Sophie around until she laughed her falling over the meadow I will always remember Sophie saying “Mo” I will always remember Sophie for now and forever.

Page 2

Sun and Moon

Anonymous

Every day the sun hides from the moon Into a secret world known to no one Perhaps it goes to die in a lifeless void And is born again in the renaissance of a new day Maybe it travels the world seeking for places in need of illumination The possibilities are endless as are the words to describe them Frail but powerful The sun hides from the moon every day It is not considered cowardly or indolent It is an image of beauty A soul going away to make room for another Happiness of the day swallowed by the secrets of the night Love A love that is pure and true Dark and light The sun lets the moon shine in the darkness and admires it from afar The distance of opposites Are bonded by worship Worship of the world’s constant hope For the moon and the sun to meet.

What It Means to Think Like a Girl

by Annie McDonald

To think like a girl means to be curious.

To be beautiful.

To have a divine and trustworthy heart.

It means to be loved. To have feelings.

To make choices. To be powerful.

To know good and bad. To wonder.

It means to have imagination. To be free.

To believe. To make friendships.

To pursue your ideas. To make yourself heard.

To think like a girl means to talk like a girl.

To learn. To have knowledge.

To solve problems. To keep secrets.

It means to hope. To stand up for others.

To be a leader. To be puzzled.

To dream wildly. To be self-sufficient.

To think like a girl means to be gentle and understanding.

To be sophisticated.

To set and achieve goals.

To think like a girl means to be who you are, and be that perfectly well.

Page 3

Résumés Everywhere

anonymous

Her bed was made, just like her mom had done it years ago. She had several copies of her one-page résumé sprawled out on her bed with hand-written notes and highlighted sections on them. Her bed smelled faintly of last night’s microwaved meal. Her pillow had no pillowcase, but on the back she had doodled on it with Sharpie when she could not sleep. Her bed had one rough sheet on it, with a very nice wool blanket she had kept since her childhood. It was all she had left of her parents. Above her bed was a poster of the London Eye, somewhere she had always wanted to go. On the bottom corner she had scribbled prices of airplane tickets and hotel rooms and circled them in bright red highlighter. Her headboard from her childhood had scratches and marks on it. She had carved her first initial into it along with someone else’s initial, with an equal sign and then a heart. Now, it had been scratched and crossed out. She had only one other pillow, a small square, colored dark green, with “Knols” written on it in Sharpie. Her small radio on her bed-side table was set to the “Blues” channel.

Deeper

anonymous

I swim though the deep blue ocean sea With waves trying to push against me I swim far and slow, but when I go I go down deeper to where the sun does not shine, I go down deeper to where some might close their eyes, I go down deeper and deeper to where you don’t feel the waves, I go down deeper to where you might be afraid.

But even when you’re afraid, you must be brave.

For if you’re not, you will be locked In a world, where you can’t place.

So conquer your fears and wipe your tears Because no matter how far you go down You have to come back up for air.

Page 4

On The Other Side of The Window

by Emma Yeatman

Dying whispers of color light a dreary autumn sky, and fall down as deserted dreams, empty of merit, until discovered by a new Hopeful, unused to the ways of the world.

From above, a never-ending scape of recurring beauty reminds us that life, no matter how bleak, continues even if we don’t wish it to.

Slowly drying, falling down, life at its loveliest towards its end.

Memories By Lenny Lorenz The memories came all the time.

They came in mist and clouds.

She loved the wind she loved the music.

A thread of song.

The memory is this A blue blanket in a basket.

She remembered voices and words.

Words like soft wind touching her.

She is lifted up and held tight.

Kind faces she remembers.

There were clouds in all her dreams.

She dreamed of white hair like silk.

She Remembered the color red.

Red flowers and cloud red sunsets.

A tiny teardrop of red.

That glowed like a fire in the light.

Why wasn’t she frightened when she remembered this.

She remembered the man.

His hands strong brown The sound of song coming up surrounding her.

She smiled at the thought.

It was his hands she remembered.

Rock paper scissors.

Red always made her happy.

Page 5