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MÉLANGE 2013


Mélange Writing and art from

Morristown-Beard School 2012-2013 “Melange mine own, the unseen and the seen, mysterious oceans where the streams empty.” -Walt Whitman Cover Artwork: Joey DePoalo Faculty Advisor: Karin Anderson A special thank you to the following people: • Jackie Forte, Jeremy Meserole, Cyndy Hamilton, and Melodie Young for contributing pieces from their students • Chris Finn, Caitlin Trought, and Chris Teasdale for their technical help • Helen Bonner, Hillary Potter, and Melodie Young for editing • Boni Luna for her support 2


TABLE OF CONTENTS

LITERATURE Grace Hromin p.4 Courtney Ober Connor Heffernan p. 4, 66 Emma Polaski A. Anakru p.5,25,43,44 Joshua Aracena Charlie Ewig p. 5 Quiya Harris Jaime Sheppard p. 6, 18 Nicole Borowiec William Simon p. 6, 60 Julia Mariano Jadyn Lawrence p. 7, 63 Lindsay Smith Grace Kellogg p. 7, 9 Ben Utz Taylor Jaskula p. 8, 32, 47 Sophia Picozzi Jake Kurz p. 8, 58 C. Fitzsimmons Mike Steinberg p. 8 Austin Penizotto Khloe Diamantis p. 9 Jack Armstrong Lara Gajewski p. 10 D. Francis-Manshel Justin Adel p. 10 Ethan Kim M. Timcenko p.11,12,31,49 Lucy Thoroman B. Pickthall-Healey p. 11 Pamela Beniwal Ryan Heffernan p. 11 Dylan Dertouzos Sam Nadler p. 12 Olivia Land Lily Pinkin p. 13 Lauren Smith Nick Kapsimalis p. 13, 67 Rebecca Tone Jack Hughes p. 14 Peter Giaquinto Jarod Cohen p. 15 Jack Hyman Natalie Pruitt p. 15 James Gorayeb Deirdre Passione p. 15, 60 Richie Carchia Taylor Pinkin p. 16, 59 Sarah Evans Pd 3, 8th Grade Eng. p. 17 Mikaeel Jan Rachel Powell p. 17 Sam Hatfield Drew Loughran p. 18 Harrison Kusnierz Brian Collins p. 18, 19 Rylan DeStefano Nicholas Visceglia p. 19 Ian O’Brien Caroline Bernardon p. 19 Madeline Sit Renee Dorwart p. 20, 59 Blake Kernen Chris Hardman p. 20 Julia Papas Trevor Clemson p. 20 John Cohen Justin Wachtel p. 21 Paris Luckowski Ryan Green p. 22, 23 Jillian Hess William Simon p. 22 Liz Gately Sami Saunders p. 22 Lily Yee Sundia Nwadiozor p. 24, 28 Laurel Parker Sydney Beck Garrett Ryon p. 26 Ellie Buscemi p. 29 Jamie Redington Maeve Logan p. 30 Lucas Fagan Tessa Connell p. 31, 61 Carly Piniaha Sarah Yamashita p. 31, 61, 62 Will McCann Claire Chiperfield p. 33 Kenny Lavoie Allie Goldberg

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p. 34 p. 34 p. 35 p. 36 p. 36 p. 36 p. 37 p. 37 p. 37 p. 37 p. 38, 70 p. 38 p. 39 p .40, 70 p. 40, 60 p. 41 p. 42 p. 42, 58 p. 43 p. 43 p. 43 p. 44 p. 44 p. 44 p. 45, 64 p. 45, 46 p. 32, 46, 47 p. 48 p. 48 p. 50 p. 50 p. 51, 52 p. 51 p. 52 p. 53 p. 54, 55 p. 55 p. 56 p. 62 p. 64 p. 64 p. 65, 72 p. 69 p. 70 p. 71 p. 74

ARTS AND PHOTOGRAPHY Joey DePoalo Rebecca Tone Rachel Powell Jaime Sheppard Claire Chiperfield Pamela Beniwal Sarah Evans Ryan Heffernan Arabella Berman Grace Hromin Mikaeel Jan Theo Won Harrison Kern Mollie Kiel Jake Kurz Olivia Land Chris Hardman Curtis Fagan Isabel Warner Ian Schramm Paris Luckowski Lucas Fagan Garrett Ryon Dylan Dertouzos Emma Duffy Mackenzie May Shyam Popat Madeline Sit Andrew Quigley Isabella Carr Ian Schramm Joshua Aracena Ryan Waters James Duffy Liam Garland John Trombetta Ryan Green D. Francis-Manshel Matthew Dertouzos

C, 13, 23, 46 p. 4, 41, 67 p. 5, 39 p. 6, 31, 35 p. 7, 58 p. 9, 17 p. 10 p. 14 p. 15 p. 16 p. 16 p. 18 p. 20, 38 p. 21 p. 25 67 p. 25 p. 30 p. 32, 63, 65 p. 33 p. 34, 54 p. 36 p. 38 p. 40, 49, 57 p. 41 p. 42 p. 44 p. 45 p. 47 p. 51 p. 52 p. 54 p. 55 p. 57 p. 59, 65 p. 61 p. 67 p. 67 p. 71 p. 74


HOW MIGHT A SHY PERSON REACT IF A PHOTOGRAPH HAD MAGIC POWERS It’s been another long day at school. Sitting in the back, getting picked on, being the left out kid in the back of the classroom. Life is hard being me. Everyday I come home, do homework, and lie in bed. I don’t have any friends, no one talks to me. My mom died when I was five and I live with my dad, but he works late, and I never see him. I like to look through my mom’s old things because I don’t have a memory of her. But today I found this old, leather, dusty album. It only has one photo in it. It was my parent’s wedding photo. But the strangest thing happened: it talked. It said to me, “ Hello, I am the ghost photo of one’s past. I can change your life. What’s one thing you hate about it?” I shut the book as fast as I could, went to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on my face. Was I imagining it? Was it real? Of course the answer was no, but I still went back and opened it. It said, “Hello again, I am the ghost of one’s past. I can change your life. What’s one thing you hate about it?” I don’t know what to do but I answered it anyway. “I have no friends and everyone hates me.” And then all I saw was a white flash, and I was at school, and I was in the 1st grade again. Then I heard the photo’s voice. “You’re back 5 years: make friends, be more social, and don’t mess up again. It was your only and last wish, and now make the best of it.” By Grace Hromin

TRUSTY FELLOW Once was sturdy, Is now weak. First green, Now is grey. He believes, His day has come. Begins to wobble, And then falls. When everything seems dreadful, Another friend comes into play. As he falls, The fellow is there to catch. The tree will live a day longer, All thanks to a trusty rock. By Connor Heffernan By Rebecca Tone 4


THE BEE I step up to the stage trembling in fear. I sit down in seat ten, right here. The rest of the spellers sat down, and then— It begins. Stop trembling? I know not when. Slowly, yet quickly: nine spellers spell words. As the one before me rises, the worst— Is coming towards me. What shall I say? “Spell synchronous.” Oh, what a fine, good day.! As words hit spellers, felling them like trees, The fear of the unknown recedes from me. Hippopotamus, then euphemism, The trembling now an anachronism. There was not danger in the Spelling Bee. Merely the unknown tightly grasping me. By Amogh Anakru MEMORIES

By Rachel Powell

Waves crashing People running Boom! Your house is gone Bang! the trees are falling like rain Salt fills your nostrils Water chokes you You cannot breathe You just keep getting pulled away, you grab something and hope for the best When you turn around, everything is gone Take a look before and see a beautiful house and a picture perfect view Double take and you see nothing but the bases of people’s houses Everything turns to nothing Aquatic life inhabits your land It is an attack dog, it does not care who you are or what you have done Cars are driving with no direction Everything is gone, except memories. By Charlie Ewig 5


FIREWORKS The crackle echoes the streets The colors light up the night sky, twinkling like stars Fireworks reach across the sky, to be seen from miles away Feel my heart pounding to the beat of each blast I smell the long trail of smoke, floating away after each performance Like thunder it screams, like the sun it’s bright Tasting the summer air. By Jaime Sheppard

By Jaime Sheppard

I RACE I race for inland, but my car loses control, due to the incoming wave. I step on the pedal, but my car only slips farther away. It has a mind of its own and thinks it’s riding a wave, completely oblivious to the screaming people inside. The water is in complete control now, and now all I have to do is sit back and watch the end. By William Simon

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LOST Nothing No one My once exciting life Has now bored me Nothing sticks out So dull and gray my life is I try to write But nothing inspires me to do so I feel so lost. By Jadyn Lawrence

RESTORE THE SHORE I hear the sadness in people voices just seeing the demolished houses I see the destruction that is hard to bear I touch the huge rocks that plow across the beach I can taste the tears steaming down my face, seeing the hole in my house The houses are screaming at me for help Restore the shore. By Grace Kellogg

By Claire Chiperfield 7


DISAPPOINTMENT Disappointment is like a storm Excitement, nervousness, anticipation You are braced for the worst, but you hope for the best Feelings rush through your body like a raging river Boom! The lighting, thunder, someone breaks the news Devastation, disappointment, wondering why not The night of the storm is confusing Emotions race, you don’t know what to think A storm is all that blocks our way from happiness It seems like things will never get better, like there is no hope left Then, a shimmer of hope in the distance The clouds start to break, you are optimistic You settle down, like the calm after the storm You hope this is the last time that you will ever see it, But there are many more storms to overcome. GOLF

By Taylor Jaskula

Bing! I hit the little white ball and it flies into the air. It lands on the short green grass near the hole. I look to my side and all I see is the green grass. Straight ahead is the ocean and the waves are crashing down. The yellow flag is blowing in the wind. And today is a beautiful day. I am very thirsty and the heat is almost unbearable. But there is no place I would rather be. By Jake Kurz LIGHTNING Boom, a giant streak of light fills the sky The bright erosion of electricity brightens the sky on a dark evening Lightning is a giant wrecking ball, not hesitating to destroy anything in its path A natural destruction, leaving people homeless or dead, frightened, and innocent people cowering in a corner An invasion, filling up the sky, leaving the sky unclear of the stars and sun Crackle, boom, you are another victim. By Mike Steinberg 8


TIMES SQUARE The bright, shiny lights looked down on me, The city was a movie Everything seemed to be in action, Yellow taxi cabs rushing on the busy streets, Honk! Honk! Hundreds of people walking different directions Stress was my only emotion Could I get there in time? This place was chaos Pedestrians’ chatters making my ears ring Anxiously waiting for the light to turn green Why can’t they go faster? By Khloe Diamantis

By Pamela Beniwal CITY The smell of the hot dog stand across the street Listening to all the chatter and noisy street cars The flashing lights booming into my eyes The salty pretzel steaming in my mouth The wet wonderful water comes from above and pours down on me The rain joyfully showers over me The city is like a mesh of animals jammed into one crate. By Grace Kellogg 9


MORRISTOWN-BEARD A grand white building Standing tall and strong Teaching new things everyday Emitting a sense of pride to everyone who passes Filled with happiness and laughter Morristown-Beard By Lara Gajewski

THE DIFFERENT ONE

There is always somebody, someone that is different someone that is an outsider someone that is odd but, in a way, we are all outsiders we are all odd this is what makes you yourself being an outsider has its pros you don’t go by someone else’s rules you don’t have to listen to the leader of a group being an outsider has its cons, too, though you don’t have someone to share your feelings with you don’t have someone’s shoulder to cry on. people wonder that if we are all outsiders than how come these pros and cons don’t apply to some of us? We are all outsiders on the inside but you can choose not to show it all the time some people show it more some people show it less but in the end We are all outsiders. By Justin Adel

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By Sarah Evans


GHOST

THE WORLD IS A BOOK

Trapped in my own house The world is a book. Prisoner I could have been You don’t have to read it, but if you do, you will be successful. Thoughtful, confused, lost The book teaches you anything, everything. Why do the kids taunt me? The writer is unknown. But who cares? Why are they scared of me? Am I monster to them? It is your book. You are the one reading it. Trapped in my own world Nobody can tell you when to read it. Prisoner of my father Nobody can tell you how to read it. As the years pass on, the book collects dust. Angry, aggravated, misunderstood Collects more and more dust until it can’t collect any more. All those years ago Why did you keep me locked up? Then the book becomes forgotten. Should I blame myself? Just an old memory. But there will be a new book. Trapped in my own dreams And another. Prisoner of hope And another. Faithful, brave, ready to be free Is she the key to my freedom? By Mark Timcenko Is she my second chance? “Hey Boo” By Bronte Pickthall-Healey

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By Ryan Heffernan


THE FINISH LINE You start off like a new car. Ready to drive as fast as you can. But you don’t know how to drive, you just want to go fast. As you go on, you become better. Now you can drive anywhere, wherever your driver takes you, but you’re still relying on your driver. Still as time goes on, you get better and better, and then you don’t need a driver. You can do whatever you want. Go wherever you want. See whatever you want. Now you become older, you go to the mechanic more often, need an oil replacement more often. Now you need a driver to take care of you again. When you find a new driver, he will fill your fuel, replace your oil, and keep you clean. You remember years ago, when your original driver cared for you. Now it’s the same thing, someone caring for you, keeping an eye on you. Then your driver can’t take care of you anymore. So the driver takes you to the junk yard. You are taken apart, your pieces spread far and wide. Some pieces are put to good use, but most are left behind. Now what used to be you sits in the junk yard, waiting to find a new driver, no matter how hard it will be. But the driver never comes. You wait and wait. You rust and rust. You rust until you can’t rust anymore. What is left of you falls apart. You are put into the ‘trash’ section of the junk yard. You did your job, now it is over. Forever. By Mark Timcenko

I AM WHO? I am like God. Everyone prays for me to love them. I got haters, I got lovers. They dream about me, draw pictures of me, for I am perfection. I wrote the Bible. By Sam Nadler 12


SUMMER AT THE SHORE Excitement starts well before the season Hot morning sand sinks underneath my toes By Joey DePoalo Cool, crisp salty air blowing through my hair Waves crash against the jetties as loud as distant thunder Winds howl are they run across the bay Bonfires roar while marshmallows bake beside them. Colors gleam the sky The cool, cool water NIGHTMARE? Mouth watering seafood Bike rides and vibrant sunsets The sound of crashing waves in the distance The summer is too short. Houses being torn to the ground I can taste the moisture in the air By Lily Pinkin The smell of the oceans water is suffocating me My stomach begins to cramp, hoping the water doesn’t reach me I hope everything is not what it seems I wake up and it is all a dream. We can hear the waves crash and soon enough It hits us with a bash My feet were wet And the water was still coming in like a fighter jet. By Nick Kapsimalis 13


By Ryan Heffernan LIFE IS LIKE A WAVE It can be choppy or rough, with a questionable path Or graceful and smooth, with the path seemingly lined up perfect It can be long or short, with unpredictable sections threatening the end It can be big or small, being famous or unrecognized It can close out and end with a crash, barely seeing it coming Or it can die out gracefully, slowly, and obvious in sight from the beginning Life is like a wave By Jack Hughes

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THE SHADY TREE The shadiness of the tree Roams in everyone It is something you cannot see, The opposite of the sun, No matter where you go, Darkness will always be seen, You will come to know, The shadiness of the tree. WAVES

By Jarod Cohen

A peaceful wave, curling up ready to crash forming repetitively, like nothing changes CRASH! Coming and carrying tons of creatures The smell of salt stinging my nose, water reaching my feet making my toes cringe A new wave is made and now starts again. By Deirdre Passione

PRINTS UPON THE SAND Footprints on the beach, gentle and soft, attempt to make their mark upon the damp, cool earth. Yet when a wave comes they will be washed away. Nothing soft can stay. The little prints upon the loose, smooth sand, will seen be erased, and forgotten forever. By Natalie Pruitt

By Arabella Berman 15


By Grace Hromin

CARNIVAL Millions and millions of people cheering A spectrum of colors floods the streets Music banging out loud so hard that it's hard to hear Click, click, click Many people surrounding are taking photos Insane fireworks shooting across the night sky Huge displays of art moving along the streets Women and men dancing in flashy costumes The air smells like street food Hundreds of people dancing in unison in the streets I reach my hand out to catch some beads This is an unforgettable experience Yet it happens once a year. By Taylor Pinkin

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By Mikaeel Jan


DEATH Death is the final chapter. The long book has concluded, and the story is finished. There were many journeys and peaks and valleys, each teaching a valuable lesson along the way. The book, though, remains to pass along to others. Death is a new chapter It is the sequel to the story of life New characters arise, while old ones find their peace. A new story is destined to be written by the Great Creator, the author of us all. By Period 3, 8th Grade English

By Pamela Beniwal

MADISON SQUARE GARDEN I feel the seats of Madison Square Garden, every seat filled by another fan. Tick-tock the countdown of when he gets on stage, not a second of silence while the crowd waits Smelling of all different perfumes combined together Hearing yelps and screams from everyone around you The vibrations of the screaming fans, hoping he would possibly hear their voice over the others. Hearing his voice, above all the screams Seeing his face, at the front of the stage. Seeing him dance, as he sings to the crowd Fans sing along together to each song Feeling the tears fall down my face Hoping this concert would never end. By Rachel Powell 17


SONG OF FREEDOM Listen to the mockingbird sing As it sings for freedom Its wings drape the sky with sorrow Still feeling prisoned in thought Fly bird fly As it soars for freedom The mockingbird shouts for justice Knowing what is right must be said Shout bird shout As it shouts for freedom Birds are not meant to be caged Imprisoned or trapped Birds should fly and spread their wings Birds are meant to paint the sky with songs of joy So listen to the mockingbird sing For it sings of freedom.

GOOD DIES As evil stalks up the hill, Good grazes the meadow. As evil crests the hill, Good grazes the meadow. As evil picks up the weapon of destruction, Good stands confidently. As evil takes a shot, Good dies. By Drew Loughran

By Jaime Sheppard

A LINE A line Across endless waves of air Crossing textiles Is not very different From the world Holding up The linens of the sky. By Brian Collins

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By Theo Won


DAZZLING DISNEY Disney is the greatest place in the world, My favorite attractions are Splash Mountain, Space Mountain, and Expedition Everest. Back at the hotel, the spectacular super slide is waiting for you at the pool, Disney will dazzle your socks off! Crunchy, salty nuts Sweet, smooth, creamy gelato Lemony, sour, satisfying lemonade Disney will dazzle your socks off!

A PEN A pen Writes smoothly So softly Changing people’s thoughts Lives Attitudes Making people laugh And smile And live.

Chip and Dale, and Mickey Mouse Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty Prince Charming, and Stepmother Disney will dazzle your socks off! By Nicholas Visceglia

By Brian Collins

WOOD THAT IS WAITING TO DIE I remember when I was born. I was handled with care as I found my home. I started out small and frail, but as I was given water and sunlight I grew. In return for these things that were keeping me alive, I gave them air. I gave them life. But it wasn’t good enough. They took an axe and chopped me down. With each swing I felt my body crack and my heart seemed to wither away with the rest of my body. Now I was waiting. Waiting to die. My body is getting weaker, my arms are slowly drooping, and my leaves which were once bright green are rotting. I used to glisten in the sun and now I am just wood. Wood that won’t help people breathe, and wood that will never be beautiful again. Wood that is waiting to die. By Caroline Bernardon 19


RAIN Representing each tear dropped on the ground The feeling of loneliness and abandonment Drop drop drop Feeling unwanted and invisible Nobody cares and each tear continues to drop. By Renee Dorwart

THE GORILLA Alone in the grass. The gorilla stares at a dandelion. So focused and calm. Wondering and thinking. Feeling lonely and sad. No one by his side. Depression lingers in the air. With curiosity in his head. Wondering why no one is there. But it is only a dream. By Chris Hardman

BEACH The peaceful trees swayed back and forth in the cool tropic breeze The soft sedentary sand covered my toes as I walked towards the water The calm ocean goes “whoosh” as the small waves approached the shore The salty water spritzed my face as I looked out at the ocean’s horizon The feeling of relaxation overwhelms my body I wish I could stay in this tranquil paradise forever. By Renee Dorwart THE FISH DISH The deep dark hole As big as the earth Not one soul Will ever be in another birth, I’m coming close Now I’m afraid I’m reaching the coast This has been well played, It has been good The end is near If you misunderstood I will be eaten from head to rear, I have been a defenseless fish Now in a bear I was his dish. By Trevor Clemson 20

By Harrison Kern


By Ian Schramm

By Mollie Kiel

HORROR MOVIE: The Aftermath The images flickered in my head like a macabre photo album. A girl whose face is masked by a crown of hair that is as black as a raven’s feathers. A dark house on a lonely road. The trees outside my bedroom howled in the wind like souls from beyond the grave. The shadows of their branches clawed at me like demons trying to possess me. My heart pounded as hard as a steel hammer against iron. Everything seemed to stop around me as I waited for that girl to walk into my room. As I heard the slow, wretched creaking of the doorknob and prepared for the inevitable fate, I let out a small yelp. My mom walks in. “No more horror movies before bed.” Some things can be scarier than any horror movie. By Justin Wachtel 21


BREAKING NEWS! Breaking News: Hurricane Sandy Takes Thousands of Houses They were swept up by fierce winds and strong waves Locals, who hid during the storm, said they heard loud Bangs! This storm is like LeBron James demolishing his opponents Towns are just getting out of the shower and need a towel Hurricane Sandy gave bigger hits than Bernard Pollard. By Ryan Green A WALK I walk down the lively street The buildings are like walls keeping us protected from the outside The people talk to each other while others remain silent As I walk down the city street. By William Simon

EVERYTHING GOES DARK

Swoosh! Roar! The salty ocean breeze races down the town People screaming in terror Ocean water drowning others The angry waves overtaking houses and crushing people Snap! The trees break and cause even more destruction Families look at each other for the last time and cry as they go under Water splashed over their heads like a swimming pool As the winds get harder and heavier, I grow more terrified Everyone’s silent and all I can concentrate on is the noise, the leak in the roof Drip drop The rain gets louder I can’t bear it and I just want to scream Getting darker and darker as the clouds rumble in Everything goes dark. By Sami Saunders 22


THE BIG GAME I open the door The freshly waxed floor I bounce the ball And a loud echoing sound bounces off the walls My teams bench is filled with players I take off my clothing layers My shot goes Swish! But as the game starts I am looking to dish This game is so much fun It is better than basking in the sun I hit another shot My team is winning by a lot The final whistle blows I shake hands with my foes We have won the game I will go home in fame

By Joey DePoalo

By Ryan Green

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By Joey DePoalo


By Sundia Nwadiozor 24


SERENITY OF IGNORANCE The skier rushes down the snow-capped peaks, Comforted by the thought of the hospitable village nearby, Excited at the taste of the alpine air, Empowered at the feel of his ski poles, Exhilarated by the swoosh of the wind as he was bolting down the slope, But terrified at the turbulence of his trip, the thought of it turned him towards the tree, Which he collides with, never to reach the warm, homely village nearby. By Amogh Anakru

By Olivia Land 25

By Jake Kurz


THE STORY OF VLADIMIR: A Continuation of George Orwell’s “Animal Farm” Napoleon, Jessie, and Boxer were all sitting in a circle in a medium sized room with dark green walls and dark brown wood floors. Napoleon, being the host, had decided to have Jessie and Boxer over for a drink in his brand new house in the middle of the country side in England. The room had a fireplace, bookshelf, piano, and a tray with different types of alcohol. They all sat in large cushioned leather chairs. They were surrounded by food and drinks. Napoleon was drinking whisky, Jessie was sitting quietly, and Boxer was fooling around with his tail. “So, how are you all doing on this fine day?” began Napoleon. “I am doing mighty fine, and how about you, Napoleon?” replied Boxer. Well, to tell the truth I need more whisky, I’m about out of my specially made whisky that comes from Finland,” said Napoleon. “Well, that’s a shame isn’t it?” said Jessie. “Like you aren’t drunk enough already...” She muttered sarcastically under her breath. “I would like to read a small story to you two, just to pass a bit of the time if you don’t mind.” Napoleon said in a forceful manner. Napoleon got down from his chair and waddled over to the book case that held hundreds upon hundreds of old, dust covered books varying from children’s books to books on Medieval Times. He got up on a ladder and followed his finger across fifty different books until he arrived at a book that was covered in old dark brown leather. The leather was tied together by a piece of black wax stringing that looked like it had been aging for quite some time. The leather had blood stains on the front and a couple of wears and tears hear and there, but overall it was still in good condition for how long it looked like it had been sitting there. “Ah, here we go...” said Napoleon. “What is it?” said Jessie and Boxer, seeming interested. “It’s a book that has been handed down through my family for generations upon generations. It’s been in my family for as long as anyone can remember. The book was kept in a leather cloth so that whenever someone who knew my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great... Uh, well, you get the point... grand father, they would remember his story. This leather is his skin, and the black string around it is a strand of rope that was used to help hang him.” said Napoleon with tears slowly coming upon him. “Oh dear! I am so sorry Napoleon!” said Jessie. “Yeah, me too.” said Boxer with empathy in his voice. “Thank you, thank you.” said Napoleon looking first at Jessie then at Boxer. Napoleon slowly walked back to his chair from the book case, as though his thoughts were launching a full scale attack on his brain. As soon as Napoleon had reached his seat, Jessie and Boxer asked Napoleon if he was ok. He replied, “Yes, I’m fine, I just need to regroup after remembering what happened to my grandmother. She was slaughtered while still alive. Terrible memories from the past, but the reason why I brought her up was because she is the one who originally read me this biography/story on my, however many greats, grandfather.” Napoleon untied the black string from the sheet of leather that surrounded the book inside. Once he put the leather aside, Jessie and Boxer gasped in amazement at the beautifully decorated silver and gold book. “Wow, that is beautiful!” said Jessie still glaring at the expensive looking book. “Napoleon, if I may say so myself, your family must have been one smart and wealthy group of pigs,” said Boxer, looking as if he just saw the woman of his dreams. “

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Why thank you; you two are too kind.” said Napoleon. “Well, before we get too off track, I would like to read this biography/life story of my, very old, grandfather.” said Napoleon. He opened the book and let out a great sigh. He put his eyeglass up to his eye and flipped to the section that he wanted to read to Jessie and Boxer. Right before Napoleon started to read, he reached over and took a firm hold on his glass of whisky. He took a couple sips and put it back down. He licked his lips and cleared his throat and started to read. “Theodore was a 200 pound wild pig and was born in Wales, England. He worked on a farm just like Manor Farm, also known as Animal Farm, and was in what they called the lower class. Theodore, his wife, and his two kids, worked in the fields all day and all night without any break, food, or water. The animal who ran the farm went by the name of Vladimir. He was a cruel Chicken who threatened to hang any one of the animals if they slipped just a little bit. One day, Theodore was working in the fields and passed out because of heat poisoning. Vladimir had been on patrol making sure everyone was doing their job, but he saw Theodore laying on the ground. Vladimir clucked and clucked and clucked at Theodore not knowing that he was sick, he had assumed that he was not responding. Vladimir had a dog pick up Theodore while he was still passed out from the sun. Vladimir took the duty to remain along with rules and immediately took Theodore to the place where he would be hung.” said Napoleon. “Oh No!” said Jessie with fear showing in her expressions and in her voice. “ Shut up! Shut up! Let me finished the damn story!” said Napoleon. Jessie shrugged back into her chair with fright while Boxer got very wide eyed and looked at Jessie in a very confused way. Napoleon looked at Jessie and Boxer and made a very face that made him look like he was going to kill them on the spot. “I am sorry!” said Napoleon. “Now, if I can continue... Vladimir was in the process of hanging Theodore while the entire army watched in agony. The knot was pulled tight to Theodore’s neck. Right as Vladimir was pulling the lever to release the flooring, Theodore woke up and saw what was happening. He tried to yell out to stop, but the lever had been pulled before anyone could stop Vladimir. Theodore had been killed in cold blood by a chicken for something that he couldn’t help happen.” said Napoleon. “The reason I told you this heart wrenching story is because after I read this, I felt like I would have been able to stop things like this happening on farms just like Manor Farm. I ended up failing all of you and killed many people. I turned into Vladimir! I wanted to prevent these types of things but instead I encouraged them! I want you to know that I am deeply sorry for what I have done.” said Napoleon. “Well, I think I can speak for both myself and Boxer in saying that we appreciate your apology, but you did terribly unacceptable things when you ran that farm. You treated us just like your great... Grandfather was treated. We all almost died because of your selfishness and bad judgement. I’m sorry about what happened to your however many greats Grandfather, but overall I can not accept your apology.” said Jessie. “I completely agree with you Jessie. I wouldn’t have put it any other way.” said Boxer. “Hmmff. Well, if you think you can come into my home and treat me like this? NO! Get out! Get out!” shared Napoleon. Jessie and Boxer ran out of Napoleon’s house faster than a jackrabbit with wheels. “Yeah! And you stay out!” said Napoleon.

By Garrett Ryon

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NOVEL PREVIEW: ~*~ 12:45 is what the clock read. The school year officially started today in 7 hours and my eyes just wouldn’t shut. I twisted and turned in bed. A whole new school year, a whole new start as a Jr at Throne-Stone Private. I was a decent student, never getting lower than a 3.75 GPA, the teachers adored me, and the whole student body pretty much knew who I was. I was told that I was one of those people that caught your eye when you walked past, but never really saw it for myself. I think that my appearance in the school orchestra had a lot to do with my popularity. I had an interest in the upright bass since I was a playful 4th grader ignorant to what life was really like, and started playing in 7th grade. It wasn’t an easy instrument to commit to, especially considering I was a 12 year old girl taking on the height of 4’10. I can still remember my teachers words when I wanted to quit. “Not many girls your height-- well actually not many girls in general make the choice of playing the instrument you have decided on.” “I know.” “So why out of all instruments did you choose the upright bass, Miss Mason?” “I.. I.. I don’t know Madame” “Merde! Désirée, you knew that you and that instrument have some kind of connection and you are desperate to find out what it is! You cannot just play an instrument like the bass for the fun of it... It’s an instrument of meaning... Of passion. So get off of your butt and show me what you can do with that bass!” I smiled at the memory of Madame Levine. It had been such a long time since I had taken lessons with her. Two years exact. She was my start. She was the person that opened the door for me, and I would have never made first chair without her. I would have given up such a long time ago, but she pushed me. She may have cursed at me a whole lot in the process, which as a 7th grader kind of frightened me, but that’s what pushed me even more. Her hurtful words burned into my head the first few months of my private lessons until finally I found paradise. Sooner than later I started to listen to the beating of my heart, letting my body connect with my bass as if it was a part of me. That’s when I knew it was final; the bass was all mine. When I played it, I would leave all of my life’s troubles behind and just be...free. 1:09am. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t sleep. I sat up straight in bed ran my fingers through my curly hair and sighed.I looked up at the ceiling, wondering why my body wouldn’t shut down for the night. My heart rate started to speed up. I was nervous. Junior year. God, I can’t believe it. JUNIOR FREAKING YEAR! I got out of bed walked out onto my balcony as the light breeze blew back my long curls. I smiled and went up the stairs that led up to the roof. I stopped on one of the steps, staring out of the glass that was protecting me from the city below. My grandmother was pretty lucky to get the largest penthouse in Manhattan, because it gave such a great view of the city. 28


The lights were beautiful, all the buildings built for different reasons, holding diverse people. People who were all doing different things. Sleeping, talking on the phone, crying, partying, shopping and....falling in love? That was the last thing that came to mind as I looked down and spotted a young couple walked up to my building holding hands. I watched as the boy stopped and faced the girl. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and stared down at the girl, while she faced him biting her lower lip. A string of her hair fell into her face, and he brushed it back behind her ear. Then they just stood there. The girl staring up into his eyes, waiting for him to make his move and, as if he could read her mind, he grabbed her waist and she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his back. You could see his hands pressing into her back as he held onto her tightly and kissed her passionately. When he let go of her, I let out the breath that I didn’t realize I was holding in. I stood there even after the satisfied girl ran into the apartment building and the boy crossed the street. I closed my eyes holding back the emotion that sooner or later would be pouring down my face. My heart was beating fast again. I wanted that. I wanted what they had. I ran down the stairs and into my room, shutting the balcony’s glass door behind me. I leaned against it and slid down, tears forming in my eyes. I wanted love. By Sundia Nwadiozor

SILENCE IN A CROWDED ROOM A sad song plays I hear it People around me chatter I hear it The crowded room echoes I hear it The people around me walk I hear it The room becomes silent I hear it. By Ellie Buscemi 29


SEASONS Our love is beautiful, simple, and clean Just like a fresh spring morning, spent with you You say I’m the most beautiful girl you’ve seen Just like a budding flower, our love grew Our love is exciting, wild, and bright Like a summer day, crazy, insane, and fun We are dreamers, this has never felt so right Nothing can outshine us, not even the sun Our love became fragile, a weary state Like an autumn evening, lights started to fade We lost our spark, we used to be so great It’s too late to clean up this mess we made You and I are hopeless, words were left unsaid Our love is like winter, bitter and dead. By Maeve Logan 30

By Chris Hardman


THE BEACH The warmth beating down on me like a blanket warming me up. The bright light shining down in a godly fashion. The waves crashing gently on the shore, splosh, splash, splosh Everyone is in the water. The ocean invites us in. I get into the water, it warms me up. The ocean water filling the air, calming everyone and everything around. Then time starts to pass. Summer turns into winter. The water gets cold. Nobody comes to the ocean, but people will come back next year. Next year. MOMENTS

By Mark Timcenko

INVISIBLE All alone, in the corner Sitting there, with no one to talk to

An inviting smile crept up on his smooth, rough lips, Her blush spread like red tint on ripening tomatoes. The sun rose bashfully in the distance, alight with golds and pinks anew, Baby bluebirds and robins chirped to a similar tune, humans envious of their freedom. The relentless tides crashing against the shore sparkled and glistened, relishing the gaze of an old friend. By, Sarah Yamashita

Looking different, color washing away Hoping nobody looks at me Feeling sad, gloomy all day No talking, everyone can go away By Tessa Connell 31

By Jaime Sheppard


JULIUS CAESAR Julius the Great Was confronted by his fate On the Ideas of March By Sam Hatfield

ET TU, BRUTE? Love, Trust, loyalty Qualities that should be shown to your leader Caesar, Brutus, Antony, Octavius Friends and comrades, always there for one another Hail great Caesar! A Conspiracy brewing beneath the streets Down with Caesar! All of the boundaries of friendship and loyalty vanish Clever Cassius bending the truth and influencing others around him Poor Brutus tricked by Cassius Loyal is Brutus, more loyal to Rome than the love of his friend "Beware the Ides of March" A city splits between Caesar Friends become enemies, warnings are given and dismissed The Ides of March are upon us, but not gone great Caesar Tricked by his his fellow comrades, cornered and stabbed He is confused, dismayed "Et tu, Brute?" By Taylor Jaskula

By Curtis Fagan 32


By Isabel Warner THE CONSPIRATORS All scattered around the room Cassius, Casco, Cinna, Trebonius, Mettelus, Ligarius,and Brutus They feel anxious for what is about to occur As Caesar makes his way in, the plan is in full swing Everyone is getting into their places. While a sharp blade makes its way out of Casca's cloak and into Caesar, The fate of Rome's destiny lies in the hands of The conspirators. By Claire Chiperfield

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THE WALLFLOWER

By Ian Schramm

This boy, a wallflower Carving faces in the sand of the person he wants to be. Not forgetting the past and not moving into the future. Mistakes were made along the way Some bigger than others. Footprints fade away quickly, leaving no trace of where he was. A lovely, shy boy whose voice was never heard. A wallflower. Frail, Silent. Melancholy on the inside, but putting on a smile so no one will see his pain. Nights of crying and sadness shaped his future. Independent. Fierce. Bold. Then something changed. Laughter. Smiles and joy. Leaving tracks behind and being proud of who he is. But still there is that part of him, that part of him who was shy and frail. Never forgetting the past but open to moving into the future. A wallflower is who he is. Never changing. FAILING

By Courtney Ober

Getting an F is like a car crash At first it is unexpected, it hurts you hard After the crash, though, you realize what you could have done to stop it Having to deal with your parents is the worst, getting told how irresponsible you are But, you can get the car fixed so it is no longer destroyed You are now back on the road, driving smoothly but more cautiously this time Preparing for the obstacles that lie ahead. By Emma Polaski

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GROWING UP IS LIKE AN INCURABLE DISEASE Growing up is like an incurable disease There is nothing anyone can do to stop it, it is inevitable No one wants to go through it, but they have no say in the matter It feels as though there is no time to enjoy the good things in life. When in the first stages of the disease, it feels as if everything is going to be okay, but when reaching the last stages, it becomes a huge problem. Your end is coming, and you are left with a question: “What did I accomplish?� We celebrate the years we have lived, knowing eventually that everyone will die one day But in the end, you always have your family and friends right by your side, and although time is limited, you must cherish those moments with the people who hold dear to your heart. By Joshua Aracena

35

By Jaime Sheppard


LOVE Love is hot pink like a bridesmaid’s dress. It tastes like sweet, sugary Valentine’s Day candy. It smells like a beautifully fragrant orchid. It looks like a private table for two. It sounds like a harp playing a slow song. It feels like having butterflies in your stomach. By Quiya Harris

WHY ME? Stranger Odd one out Foreigner Newcomer Alien Why me? Out of place Lonely I’m forgotten I’m different I’m alone Why me? Everyone is against me I have no one on my side I don’t deserve this I don’t need this I am friendless I am an outsider Why me? By Nicole Borowiec

By Paris Luckowski TO DANCE To dance is to be free To be whoever you wish To express yourself in ways words can’t To be stronger and more powerful To dance is to be you. 36

By Julia Mariano


GO! As butterflies fill my stomach, the horn blows Sharply turning past the first gate, people cheer loudly Only five more blue gates and six more red gates to go I can hardly remember waiting impatiently at the top for my turn. Full of trepidation, will I cross the finish line in time to win a medal? Swiftly, my skies speed down the slope slick as ice Almost there, almost there, phew! Across the finish I go By Lindsay Smith DEPRESSION Sadness is blue like the flowers on a casket It tastes like mushy, cold, canned, asparagus It smells like dark, dirty, stagnant pool water It looks like a funeral It sounds like hysterical crying It feels like a sharp, throbbing stab to the chest Depression is a dark weight pressing on you.

BREATH TAKING VIEW Pink, orange, and yellow the colors flow across the sky it lights up the sky like a flame Birds singing the morning song tweet, chirp, tweet Cool air nipping at my rosy nose The smell is crisp fresh, firm, freeing air It does not last for long. In a moment, everything disappears. The colors fade the aroma dissolves the breathtaking view deflates like a balloon The day moves on.

By Ben Utz FLYING FOOD “Crash”, echoes the tray as it hits the counter Sausage and corn bounce from the floor to ceiling like basketballs Shooting for the hoop Soggy bread and sour milk splash and split sideways Bruised bananas and overripe oranges sitting there, looking like Puppies waiting to be fed. Warm water, sitting to wash it all down. “Crash”, echoes the tray, as it this time hits the garbage can. By Charlotte Fitzsimmons

37

By Sophia Picozzi


LUCY Around the house she zooms, she goes from room to room She has a tiny wet nose, she looks like a rose, She has four paws, and is nice to all dogs, She loves to sleep, and loves to eat, and no matter how bad, or if I am feeling sad, I always know, no matter where I go, That Lucy will always be there, shedding her hair, sitting on the couch, or cheering up a grouch, those are just some, of the things that she loves, so whenever I am sad, or really mad, without a doubt, I can always count, on my little pup, to cheer me up.

By Harrison Kern

PERFECT MORNING

At the crack of dawn, a wet, cold nose bumps my face I hear the loud “bang bang� of a tail hard as steel against my bed frame happy, adorable, hazel eyes stare into mine scruffy, golden fur catches my eye but large ears raise at a noise from below and in a flash, the fluffy, gold ball bolts down the stairs and disappears like water on hot coals A wonderful start to every morning. By Jack Armstrong 38

By Austin Penizotto

By Lucas Fagan


FALLING DESTRUCTION Falling destruction Down from the sky Like a paratrooper with no parachute Waiting to die

LONELY LITTLE TREE Lonely little tree

Falling... Falling... Falling...

A photo dressed in black and white. The light changes like day and night.

Kaboom!

The tree on a ledge looks out on a cliff. The wind goes by, on a drift.

By Daniel Francis-Manshel

The leaves on the tree sway back and forth. It makes you think what life is worth. The arid desert is dry and brown. Except this lonely little tree sticks out from this ground. By Daniel Francis-Manshel

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By Rachel Powell


LIFE What is Life? Life is joy, laughter, and things that make you happy. Life comes only once and goes quick. Life is a lagniappe, so sit back and enjoy. Life is good... Life is the time you love and relish. Life is a new awakening. Life is a mirage that is ephemeral. Life is so opulent that you just want to immerse yourself it in. Life is good... By Ethan Kim

By Garrett Ryon

LIFE Life is like sailing. Floating, barely staying upright. Flirting with the idea of capsizing. Waves crashing, urging the boat to tip. Sails that may be strong enough to hold everything upright, but also may not. Strong control is needed, with your sailers there to help. Traveling through the storm together, the boat may tip. Some stay in the water, all hope lost. But others... They climb back into the boat. And just keep sailing. By Lucy Thoroman 40


ROUGH ROLLER COASTER RIDING

By Rebecca Tone

Walking in an amusement park, smelling the confection called cotton candy. Hearing the screams of delight, as the ride shoots downward. Waiting for the ride to commence, while excitement is gnawing in the stomach. Slowly but surely the cart is ascending. Ha ha! What fun! The carts reach the top and teeter totter perilously, like a top ready to stop spinning. As fast as a cheetah, they shoot downwards. The wind is blowing through the hair, and one feels like they are flying. No one can make out anything, because swiftness is gaining. The ride slows down and terminates, one feels dazed and flushed. Even though an individual will not remember all of the details, they had a great experience. By Pamela Beniwal

By Dylan Dertouzos 41


TICKING CLOCK

By Emma Duffy

sitting and waiting eyes locked on the clock class is almost over the clock is moving slow as a sloth one minute to go “tick tick tick” clicking my pen and smiling to my friends I sit and wait everyone is anxious to go home for summer break one second left I look at the clock the bell rings “bing-bing” class is dismissed By Dylan Dertouzos THE STORM

Lightening crackles and dances overheard Trees sway wildly as the wind whips through the outstretched branches The distinct smell of rain as atmospheric bullets are pelted at you from above Thunder rumbles, sounding like a deep, evil laugh as it ripples through the thickening clouds The sky is suddenly illuminated, as a long, jagged sliver of electricity targets the earth below Lights flicker and dim wildly as power lines begin to topple to the ground The smell of ozone as the clouds begin to part The thunder is now just a lonely whisper Weak flashes of fleeting electricity waltz across the sky As quickly as it came, it’s over Thunderstorm By Olivia Land 42


ALONE

THE OUTSIDER

Left out, unnoticed, quiet Closed up like a locked box Nobody understands Teased or ignored, Always an outsider Taking the world in Until it’s lonely and sad Life is different Whether or not it’s chosen to be that way An outsider feeling alone.

At the gathering Huddled in the corner, No one can comfort her. In town, She walks alone, No friends or companions. Always alone, Always an outcast, This is the life on an outsider.

By Lauren Smith

By Rebecca Tone

AS OASIS The town is an oasis of light in a dark and desolate desert The town’s lights shined happily in the peaceful air of the night, reveling in the serenity of the area. The lights and lanterns lit the locality, lending a lively spirit. By Amogh Anakru VIBRATIONS Music is vibrations. Those vibrations are a sensation, a sensation of your second sense. Those vibrations can make you feel melancholy, or the vibrations can make you feel joyful or mello. The vibrations trigger the emotions in your brain, make you feel happy or despondent. It can cause turmoil in your brain; the music can cause indescribable feelings. Music is vibrations; vibrations are music. By Peter Giaquinto 43


By Mackenzie May LIFE OF WONDER Life is like a race track You make choices and you don’t look back. When you do that, Life is simple. There are twists, dips, And fast straight opportunities, which guide you to success or failure. You choose to be who you are, Told who you should be. Trying to cut out the corners of the track will be noticed and make you less of a person of brightness and hard work. You can have fun in turns, or take them seriously. THE SEASON OF DYING Ever changing with thoughts on how to move. Some need instruction, The coldness forces all the trees to sleep And to some, it comes natural. The coming winter’s freezing grasp will reap No matter how life comes to you, All life is turning brown to die You are on... The secret underneath is but a lie A Track. By Jack Hyman

LOVE IS A BEAUTIFUL FLOWER Love is like a beautiful flower, growing and learning just starts from a seed, nowhere to go, driving lots of power, it is a rough journey, blocked by some weeds.

The journey ends, the annuals do wilt The powerful trees shed their leaves and sleep Ruination is coming for this is the start of this reaping The orange leaves, as beautiful as they be Are dying slowly, in such agony. To love such beauty, how cruel are we! By Amogh Anakru

By James Gorayeb and Richie Carchia 44


STARRY NIGHT The starry night lights my path through the luminous town Under my feet is the delicate snow, collapsing with every step I take The cozy smell of the fireplace drifts towards me, warming my walk The quietness of my walk is interrupted with a “woosh” of the breeze blowing through the air The twinkling town’s bright bulbs are brilliantly blazing, leading me through the night. By Sarah Evans FLOW The serene water is glistening, reflecting all that passes by The overlooking trees drop their leaves onto the flowing surface below Their peaceful path is rarely bothered, growing the winding branches wildly onto the path Surrounded by silence, all that can be heard is the rustling of the giants above the river All day long the river continues to flow By Sarah Evans FOREST My tracks now covered with the autumn leaves My tall friends now nearly naked, falling into a deep sleep, waiting to be awakened in the spring. The trains no longer venture this way for my end leads to a place where winter cannot take you. The creatures that once ran across me have ceased to do so, The lake that once was filled with children is now filled with leaves, Everything is serene, but gloomy. I am a forest. By Mikaeel Jan

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By Shyam Popat


GLOWING Lights guide you home Feel the shine ignite your bones As you climb the mountains, try and reach for the ever-glowing moon Then fall onto the welcoming snow, and watch the stars Listen to the sweet silence until you realize it’s time to go Then the lights will guide you back home, as the path will always be glowing. By Mikaeel Jan

By Joey DePoalo

THE MIDNIGHT LIGHT The town is taking it’s midnight run, lighting up the night The light dances, giving a show As people buzz around the town to and fro, As bright, beautiful lights, light up the night with might Energizing the town, like the bees finishing their duties. The town is a burning bonfire that brews, drowning the town with... The midnight light. By Sam Hatfield 46


WHOOSH It is no train, but the wind of leaves’ autumn flight This is the leaves one and only journey They cling to the past with might, Just like ghosts of past passengers that filled these tracks. They are taken away from their past life Whoosh The train passes by The ghosts are gone I’m no longer in my dream. By Sam Hatfield

By Madeline Sit

MAPLE LEAF

A maple leaf Nothing special, nothing superior Just a leaf A leaf in an expanding and developing world left behind by industrialization A speck in a word trillions of times it’s size It falls off of the tree Floating down, hoping to persevere. It hits the cold, black pavement. Crunch. The smallest sound is uttered, A last hope for the dying leaf. Then, a light in the distance, almost a blinding light. The light gets closer, it is not stopping. Crunch...crunch... The car continues down the road, oblivious to the life that came to an end. The leaf just sits there, ripped and broken. No one stops for the poor maple leaf, no one cares. It is just a leaf. 47

By Taylor Jaskula


WHAT SETS ME APART? Peering out from my large kitchen window, I begin to wonder, What sets me apart? I feel that I express the same interests as my neighbors We both like to push our boundaries and explore our communities, but I am still perplexed as to What sets me apart? Is it my physical appearance? My scruffy hair and glowing eyes? Reflecting, I realize that I let the citizens of Maycomb define the type of person I am. I let them decide what makes me, me, What makes Boo Radley stand apart from everyone else. So when I truly think about what sets me apart, I sense that it is my ability to look past an appearance and find out what is truly within, My ability to seek the knowledge I need to learn about what makes a person unique, My ability to not discriminate. That’s what sets me apart. By Harrison Kusnierz MY BOY There is a boy I know Kind, brown eyes Flowing brown hair, the color of milk chocolate He is the smartest boy I have ever met He will love you like there is no tomorrow And care for you like a delicate baby He will never stop giving you hugs When I talk to him, he makes me whole world glisten with laughter He is as sweet as my favorite candy Although he is leaving for college in a few years, I can’t be any happier to call him my beautiful brother. By Rylan DeStefano

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STUCK

By Garrett Ryon

Stuck. Stuck. Can’t move. Can’t get out. We try to get out, but they keep us stuck. Stuck. Stuck. Why have we been here for so long? What do they want from us? Stuck. Stuck. They keep us here, expecting us to do something. But how can you do something when you’re stuck in their trap? Stuck. Stuck. They look at us differently. Treat us differently. Talk to us differently. Like we are different. Stuck. Stuck. Now we are getting out. They are starting to understand us. Finally. We can run free. And not be treated differently. Free. Free. 49

By Mark Timcenko


BLINDED BY DARKNESS Running backwards from the “it” of the tag game, a single lurch, the balls of my feet lift up, the ground catches me with opening arms, soft turf warmed by the sun against my cheek, the scent of spring speeding spontaneously into my nose, yelling voices becoming more and more distant. Fighting, fighting, yet falling and fading into a nightmare of nothing but shades of black, layering over each other over again and again. A tunnel, a hole, endless with all of my fates, impossible to overcome the hand forcing my eyelids shut. No matter how much I fight but fall and fade, I can’t escape... until my eyes open to see that I’m alive. By Madeline Sit

THE DESERT IS HOME Slithering, swaying snakes. Whooshing, wicked winds. Stinging, savage sand. Passive, prominent pyramids.

The desert is home to the little, tiny scorpions that hold their deadly poison. The desert is home to the cacti whose thorns are sharp as needles. The desert is home to the camels, who are used by the nomads who roam the land. The desert is home to the illusions of water, and many other things we see. The desert is home to the sand that stings our faces and feet. The desert is home to tiny little spiders that hide in the sand. The desert is home to the dead shrubs, who wished they could have been big and strong. The desert is home to the few palm trees, who give shade to those in need. The desert is home to the oases which hold water for the needy The desert is home to the pyramids, who were built by the hands of men long ago. The desert is home to many things. The Desert is Home. By Ian O’Brien 50


By Andrew Quigley

STAINED GLASS MEMORIES Chipped blue paint and rusty hinges. That’s really all I am? Cracks in my windows, planks missing from my floors Was the happiness all a sham? I once had life in me, Laughter, love, care. Now I am a hollow house. Nothing here. Nothing there.

I’M HERE

My dreams are in a different color, sunlight through a stained glass door. Pale pink paint on my outer walls, laughter emanating from my core.

I’m here. Hidden and an outcast, looking out, dreaming. I’m here. I’m no monster. I do not have snarling teeth, nor do I have eight eyes or a thousand legs. I’m just like you.

These dreams fill my dusty halls. Rattle my inner frame. I miss those merry moments. I hope to find happiness someday. Someday.

Notice me! I’m right here! Right in front of your eyes! Tree, gum, blanket, knife... My hand is stretched towards you, Why won’t you take it? Notice me!

Til then I stand alone. Memories in the air. Life is so far gone. Was it ever even there? By Blake Kernen

I’m here. Patiently waiting. Silently hoping. Desperately reaching. I’m right here. By Julia Papas 51


MUFFLED Walking through a winter wonderland, To my left and to my right, snow coated pines surround me. Everything is muffled, not a sound, except the slow, rhythmic paddling of my feet, trudging through the fluffy snow. Luminous light shines down on me from above. The sky is clear, deep, black. As I walk, it is as if I am in space, above is black, however, white and gold dots gleam through the sky like blazing fires. I look into the dense woods, see animals, trees, and I watch the snow slowly tumbling down around me, not a sound, only quiet, muffled peace. By John Cohen PROWLING IN THE STORM The thunder rumbles over my head, shades of grey paint the sky, wind shakes the arms of the trees, there was not a single bird shrill or cry. The blast of air whips wheat grass to and fro, rain beats down on the boggy ground, the darkness of clouds hides all light, the downpour of rain is the only sound A deluge of water floods to the soft earth, a strip of light flies across the sky, the storm wreaks havoc on all life, and that’s when he prowls by.

By Isabella Carr

His razor claws scrape the ground. He settles down upon the forest floor, his coat is fire with streaks of coal, with frightened eyes he watches the storm. By Blake Kernen 52


ON YOUR WAY BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! “Wake up!” The alarm lashes out loudly After such a fantastically fun weekend. You reply, “Shhh," I just need to sleep a little longer on these comfy, plush pillows that feel like blissfully filled feathery clouds, set on softly sumptuous satin sheets. Soon I’ll be on my way! Slam the snooze button once, twice, Until the alarm sounds again BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! You’re gonna be late! Get on your way! It’s back to the usual With homework each night You must get out of bed And get ready First, Brush your teeth Second, Brush your hair Next, Eat your breakfast Now you’re on your way! You fall into your desk Slithering, slouching, struggling Eyes squinted like a newborn puppy Get out your pencils and pens Open your books These important instruments initializing Your future That will help you on your way! By Paris Luckowski

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KALEIDOSCOPE The newly fallen leaves crackle and crunch under my boots Flimsy trees hang over my head I take a deep breath and inhale the scent of wet leaves and autumn air I take a step back And look at the big picture I’m in the midst of a color book A kaleidoscope Shades of orange, red, yellow, and green surround me Summer has left, and fall is here And so begins a new season One with memories and new experiences. By Jillian Hess 54

By Ian Schramm


LACROSSE Sprinting down the field Gaining adrenaline with each footstep I take Boom thump boom thump, I hear repeatedly Hearing my name being yelled from ten different places Hearing “shoot!” or “pass!” Getting nervous Stressed Not knowing what to do I listen to my instincts I score! By Liz Gately

PRETTY LITTLE LIARS Pretty little liars is like a drug It pulls me in and I can’t escape Drama surrounds it, and its addicting I can’t stop taking it in It’s not good for me, but I can’t help it I need more. By Jillian Hess

BULLYING Walking down the hallways in fear Gripping your books, hoping no one notices you Living with chains constraining you Laughing is such a familiar sound Hearing the whispers as you walk by Thinking - what could they possibly have to mock me for? Trying to take a stand But that only makes it worse I guess I’ll just stay silent from now on. By Liz Gately 55

By Joshua Aracena


MY DARKEST DAY The brilliantly rainbow colored flowers lined up around the room mock the sadness of the event. I smell their too sweet, cloying smell. Yet another mourner comes and I receive yet another “I’m sorry”. I open my mouth to acknowledge their presence, but only a quiet murmur comes out. They seem to understand though. The lump in my throat is making it hard to breath. My chest feels like someone has put a vise around it and they keep on tightening it. I know I cannot hold in my tears anymore. I run to the bathroom. I look in the mirror and the face I see is unrecognizable. Pale skin, a gaunt face, and hollow eyes look back at me. I become acutely aware of the rushing in my ears, I cannot bear to look at myself any longer so I walk out. I see a few of my friends have come. They briefly joke around with me, and too soon, they have to leave. I’m scared to see him, so I only cast the coffin quick glances. I feel as though if I look, he will truly be gone. Soon, the speech is over and all I can think about is how little was said. I remember all of the things he and I did together 56


I give the coffin one last look. I feel a strong twinge of pain in my chest and a piece of my heart breaking as I whisper to him my final words. “Bye Dad� Fighting back tears, I stride out, leaving my father behind. By Lily Yee

By Garrett Ryon

By Ryan Waters 57


CATERPILLAR The innocent little caterpillar is wandering around, Trying to build a cocoon. He doesn’t know what it will do, But he wants to build it. When he enters, he is fine, But when he leaves, he is different. He has matured into a beautiful butterfly. He will never be the same. By Jake Kurz

TAKE SOME TIME Take some time out of every day to look in the mirror. See past the physical appearance. Try to see through yourself to see what’s on the inside, past the organs and bones, to your core, your center, where emotions bubble like molten lava. Take some time out of every day to look into a mirror and ask yourself, Do you like what you see? By Olivia Land

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By Claire Chiperfield


LIFE IS DIFFERENT Suffering, pain, agony, Feeling invisible, worthless, and unwanted, Dreams being crushed, worthless thoughts, Certain ones getting away, Feeling as if they can do anything. Life is different, For them. They do not suffer, They do not experience pain, No agony, Dreams coming true, Thoughts becoming reality. But for us, Life is different, We experience the horror. By Renee Dorwart THE HUMAN RACE Racist thoughts, Racist fears, Racist actions. Such wasted energy, such wasted time, such wasted effort.

By James Duffy

All for nothing, For such actions get us nowhere. No progress, No love, No compassion. In the end, We are all the same. One heart, One race, The human race.

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By Taylor Pinkin


ATTICUS FINCH Atticus Finch is a man of his word he stands up for people and needs to be heard. These people are folks who’ve been wrongly accused, and he insures that the law is never abused. Tom Robinson’s plight was a terrible thing, so Atticus Finch took him under his wing.

WALLS OF GLASS

Walls of glass between you. Your hands and nose, pressed against the wall. You can hear them. You can see them. By Deirdre Passione The glass cube of society boxes you in. And the walls envelope you. You are bound. But you can see through the walls. And what if you swing your hammer of freedom and liberty, and break the glass walls of society? THIS TOWN They will shatter. And they will shatter on you. This town looks nice. Tiny shards of glass The sun is out that cut deep the grass is green and laugh when you cry out. the trees rise up to the sky. And the glass box is back. But it’s tighter now. This town looks nice The walls press against your wings. but the monsters are hidden within. And the fog on the glass is gone. The people only seem good The walls are clear as crystal. but they have a dark side. By Lucy Thoroman

This town is not good. Their ways of life bother most people, men get killed for acts and crimes that they have not done. The only evidence against them is how they look. Then the monsters rise from the shadows, celebrating the death of a man. This town is not good. They have a problem. A big problem, which no one is willing to fix, By William Simon

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BLOOMING In the winter I am like a bear. I hide in the ground until spring rolls back again.

By Liam Garland

Once I awaken I spread my long, lemon yellow petals out. INK-FILLED INSTRUMENT

The warm, comforting sun on my face makes me feel untouchable.

What would happen if, A pen could change a person’s life? Could it write someone’s destiny, In dark blue ink on parchment paper? Or could it mark their future, With words so true they seem like tomorrow’s newspaper? When you think about all of the ideas that are waiting for you, Waiting for you inside this ink-filled instrument, It makes anything seem possible.

I wish winter and fall never came to be. But the birds are starting to sing, and the frogs are beginning to croak. So let’s focus on spring until summer comes. By Tessa Connell

By Sarah Yamashita 61


MOMENTS An inviting smile crept up his smooth, rough lips, Her blush spread like red tint on ripening tomatoes. The sun rose bashfully in the distance, alight with gold and pinks anew. Baby bluebirds and red robins all chirped to a similar tune, humans envious of their freedom. Cherry roses and lilies basked in the generous sunlight. The faint scent of fresh strawberries and wild grass masked with dew drops filled the air. Relentless tides lapping against the shore sparkled and glistened, relishing the gaze of an old friend. His smile faded as she walked away. The sun set in the distance, with soft blues and purples painting the evening sky. The bluebirds and robins’ song ceased, and an uncomfortable silence filled the air. Daffodils and sunflowers sulked in the moonlight. The sound of crashing waves quieted, and an old friend departed for the day. By Sarah Yamashita

THE PATH I look down the path and feel the light, warm breeze. A faint chirp from a bird hidden in the branches. The crunch as I walk down the narrow, grassy path. I don’t think I recognize this part of the forest. Lost in my thoughts I continue my stroll I stop for a second and find a log by my side. A sun ray beams in my eyes as my legs take a rest. Reaching for my water, a bee notices a flower. I focus on it as it buzzes by. Looking back down the path, I continue my thoughts. By Laurel Parker

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DISAPPEAR Away from all my so called friends Never to be tormented again Away from all the noises around To a place so majestic Where I can’t hear a sound To a place that I could call my own To a place where I wouldn’t feel so alone And though it may happen again and again I guess all good things must come to an end But even when reality resumes I still have my dreams to help me get through By Jadyn Lawrence

IN A TRANCE Snowflakes dropping on my nose Frosty wind blowing at my face You may call this winter But I see it as so much more When the sun shines, but fails to warm When it seems as though the whole world is at a stand still This is my trance at its finest No one can bother me I am invincible I am the last human being And the whole world is my friend From the birds in the trees To the worms underground I am in my magical trance By Jadyn Lawrence

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By Curtis Fagan


WHITE All I can see is white The frosty flakes are swarming around my face My ears are frozen, along with my hands All is silent, except the crunch of snow under my boots Then, it stops The world is covered in a white blanket. THE WIND

There is a tree blowing in the wind Being bent over backwards because it is too strong The rocks around it stay still But I will blow away With nobody to help me Just a couple of clouds in the sky But still I will be pushed The sky may be blue But the wind is so crude I hope the wind will stop soon or I will break. By Sydney Beck

THE BULLDOZERS Riding in the car, I close my eyes, It seems the same as it has always been, The cool salty breeze hitting my face with the pounding surf calming all who pass by But what seems foreign to me is the bull dozers beeping as they back up into the street to get another pile of sand But one glimpse proves devastating Seven foot tall mounds of sand line the boulevard as we pass by Grasping the window, I gaze at all the houses ruined, Destroyed, lost. By Jamie Redington

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By Sarah Evans


THE LION

By James Duffy

The zebra All alone The only animal with stripes He is hated Hated by all the others And lives a sad life One day A lion comes Accuses the zebra of killing his baby lion The zebra did not But the lions don’t agree Or just don’t want to agree The zebra is hated By all the lions And they plan to kill him Until one day An old, wise lion stands up for what is right Tries to convince the lions That the zebra is right But they don’t want to believe it

Until one day One lion believes the wise lion And there is hope for the zebras But the other lions Convince him that he is wrong What has this unjust world come to? By Lucas Fagan

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By Curtis Fagan


La Glace Un jour, Arnaud et Thérèse jouent à un match de foot. Soudain, Thérèse lui dit "Je voudrais une glace!" Arnaud lui répond "Moi aussi! Je demande à tante Jessie!" Après, Arnaud va vers sa tante Jessie et lui demande "Est-ce qu'on peut aller acheter une glace s'il te plaît?" Jessie répond "Oui!" Arnaud lui dit "Merci Jessie!" !

Thérèse et Arnaud vont au parc pour acheter une glace. Thérèse achète une glace à la vanille et Arnaud achète une glace au chocolat. Ils mangent la glace et sont très contents! Ils retournent à leur maison. !

Soudain un homme sur une bicyclette heurte Thérèse! Elle commence à pleurer. L'homme lui dit "Désolé! Désolé! Ça va?" Thérèse ne répond pas. Après, Arnaud et l'homme amènent Thérèse à l'hopital. !

Thérèse se couche sur un lit. Un docteur et Madame Picon entrent dans la salle. Madame Picon dit "Thérèse! Thérèse! Ça va?" Le docteur lui répond "Elle a rien. Ce n'est pas grave!" Thérèse crie "Mais je ne me sens pas bien!" Madame Picon lui dit "Thérèse, je suis désolée!" Soudain, l'homme entre dans la salle avec une glace à la vanille! Thérèse sourit! L'homme lui donne la glace! Il dit "Je suis très désolé!" Elle lui répond "C'est rien!" Thérèse mange la glace. Ça va beaucoup mieux! !

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By Connor Heffernan


Sleepy Hollow

By John Trombetta

La Leyenda De Sleepy Hollow El es feo como una rana. El cabello color de cana. El caballo de Ichabod es Él Gunpowder viejo. Él tiene miedo del espejo. Brom Bones es alto. Él es un adulto joven. El caballo de Brom Bones es Él Dare Devil fuerte. Ichabod Crane va a morir pronto. ¿Dónde está él? Nadie sabe. Katrina no sabe. Ichabod Crane es un profesor. El hombre sin cabeza es el agresor. Ichabod Crane es muy miedoso del bosque en la noche Brom Bones es sólido como un ladrillo El árbol en el bosque es espeluznante Pobre Gunpowder Él no corre, él sólo puede caminar. Él hombre sin cabeza vive en el bosque. La leyenda de el hombre sin cabeza es un cuento antiguo. By Nick Kapsimalis

By Rebecca Tone

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By Ryan Green and Jake Zurz


HOME She was thinking about it again, how they invaded her planet a year ago. How Dylan and she might be the only ones who survived. But she pushed the thought away. " Sierra?" a voice called "Sierra." it said more loudly. Suddenly she snapped out of it and looked at the front of the room. "Looks like someone finally decided to pay attention," her teacher Mr. Bruner called, directing his eyes on her. A couple of students started to giggle. "Now Ms. Fields can you please tell me what I just said?" Mr. Bruner called as the rest of the class stared at her intensely. Sierra looked down at the floor, trying to think and more kids stared laughing. Sierra looked at Mr. Bruner's weird glasses that made him look like Ozzie Osbourne. "I don't know." Sierra said not taking her eyes off him. Mr. Bruner walked up to her desk and sat down looking not angry but upset. "Sierra you can do better than this. Please try," he whispered making sure no one could hear. Then he walked back up to the black board and sat in his desk. When the bell rang everyone ran out the door like a wild herd. Sierra was the last one out. Dylan was standing right by the door. "Just because it's the end of the day doesn't mean you have the right to slow me down," he said with amusement twinkling in his eyes. "I'm tired of living here, I just want to go home," Sierra replied as a tear ran down her face. "Hey don't be like that. We'll be home one day," Dylan said. They walked down the hallway of the school, looking at the posters for Earth Day. "Come on let's go home," Dylan called as he raced ahead, Sierra followed him but stopped at the door. It was pouring rain. She could hear thunder in the distance. "I wish it would stop raining." Sierra muttered as she raced out in the rain to catch up with him. Their house was only two blocks away. Though it wasn't really a house. It was a three room log cabin they found in the woods a year ago when they first came here. She remembered the day as if it was yesterday. It had been raining even harder than it was today and they had both been both tired and soaked after their two man rocket ship crashed in the park right next to the school. They had run through the woods to make sure they weren't being followed. Dylan had fallen face first into a huge pile of mud and Sierra had laughed at him, even though they were both terrified about being heard. When Dylan had gotten up, he had mud dripping from his face which sent Sierra into another laughing fit. Then they started running again until they came to the cabin. They opened the door a little and peaked inside. It looked abandoned. Dylan went in first, creeping his way through the living room then waving at Sierra signaling to come. She crept forward, tiptoeing her way over to him. The place reeked of hot dogs and dust. When she got to him she looked around. There was an old yellow couch that had holes in it and stuffing coming out. The room was tiny with checkered wallpaper coming off in chunks. They slowly made their way to hallway and went into the first room on the right.

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The room was slightly bigger than the first room. The fridge was out dated and a faded green. Dylan walked back over to the small table and sat down in one of the chairs and fell through the cushion hitting the ground with a thud. Sierra ran over to him and helped him up. Dylan started to laugh as he stood up. They slowly walked out of the room, turning back every couple of seconds to make sure there was no one there. They crept to the end of the hallway and went in the last door on the left. There were two single beds and ripped purple curtains on the window. Dylan looked under the beds and in the small closet, then walked back to Sierra. "Welcome home." Dylan said jumping onto one of the beds and sitting down. The memory faded away as she and Dylan turned the corner to go to into the woods. " Do you feel ok?" Sierra asked. Dylan had stopped right in front of her and was staring out into the woods with his intense green eyes. "Someone's here," he whispered with terror in his voice. "Follow me." Dylan climbed up a tree then reached down for Sierra. She grabbed his hand and scrambled up the tree. Just then two kids walked by and stopped at the tree they were in. It was a boy and a girl about their age. " Don't worry, we will find her. I know she lives at the cabin," the boy said in a reassuring voice, brushing his hand through his black hair. " And what if we don"t?" the girl hissed, anger raging in her dark brown eyes "Do you know what will happen to us if we don't bring that sorry excuse of a princess home!" She looked as if she might rip out her own hair. "We'll come back tomorrow and get her, ok?" the boy said, grabbing her arm. "Ok, but if we don't find her tomorrow you're toast," the girl said, following him out of the woods. When they were sure they were gone, Sierra and Dylan jumped out of the tree. Sierra looked at where the two had been standing. " They were looking for me." she whispered with horror in her voice. "Come on, let's just go home." Dylan said, putting his arm around her and guided her to the cabin. When they got in the house Sierra looked around seeing if those kids took anything. "I don't think we can call this place home anymore." Sierra muttered. "Let's go eat some dinner." Dylan said, pulling her into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet then the other and then the fridge. "Uh, maybe we can go down town and get some pizza." Dylan suggested. " I'm not really hungry." Sierra said. " I’m just going to go to bed." Sierra walked out of the room and went to the bedroom. She sat down on her bed and looked out the window, hoping that those kids wouldn't come tomorrow. Sierra laid down and pulled her blanket over her. She closed her eyes and fell asleep. By Carly Piniaha

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TICK, TOCK, GOES THE CLOCK Tick, tock, tock, tock, you sit with your hand on your head thinking of ideas… your ideas don’t make sense to you, your mind seems broken.. Time is ticking like a clock, you can never make it stop sitting down, you just can’t function. You stop… but, time doesn’t stop, it goes tick, tock. Your ideas seem like sales talk… Tick, tock, tick, tock It’s 6 o’clock Oh it’s 6 o’clock, you say? It’s 6 o’clock, you can’t stop. Tick… Time seems to stop, your ideas seem to rock.. You notice the time, 6:03 you feel like a piece of chalk. Carving your ideas into paper, you feel like a hot stock… You look down with pride and joy at your masterpiece like the clock You feel it’s time to stop, you feel admired like the clock, and you go, tick, tock. By Ethan Kim PAPER TOWELS

SCIENCE

Paper towels are like white. White like sugar, salt, and dry ice. The dry ice is cold. Cold like it was during the October snow storm. The snow storm was white. White like the sugar, salt, and dry ice.

I was in science class Trying to make a pass Mr. Mead brought out dry ice It looked like this lab would be nice But I held the ice in my hand And it started to sting And sting And sting

By Will McCann

Ow....... By Austin Penizotto

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By Daniel Francis-Manshel

OUTDOORS MAN Being an outdoors man is only being outside. The outdoors means getting dirty on the way out and on the way in. One man obsesses over the big fish or deer. Only one man gets to be the one with the big one. And that man is me. By Kenny Lavoie

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THE REUNION: A Continuation of George Orwell’s “Animal Farm”

The doorbell rang and Napoleon sighed. "And so it all begins," he thought. Leisurely, he got up and strolled to the door. Just as Napoleon had guessed, it was Boxer. "Welcome," said Napoleon. His words echoed off the grand walls and ceiling of the large foyer. As expected, Boxer was not happy, and Napoleon knew he had a long day ahead of him. As the animals had grown older and the end of their lives neared or had already occurred, grudges were mostly forgotten. The animals felt compelled to gather to reminisce and reflect on their time together at Animal Farm, good or bad. This was the motivation for the Animal Farm reunion that Napoleon was hosting. "Please, head into the living room and sit down. Help yourself to anything you want," continued Napoleon. Boxer still did not speak; he let the silence speak for itself. Boxer headed to the living room and chose a modest wooden chair to sit in. He had not lived a luxurious life and did not intend to start now. Napoleon headed into the kitchen to prepare the food. Finally, Boxer spoke up. "I presume I am the first one here?" "Of course," replied Napoleon quietly, not wanting to anger Boxer. The doorbell rang again. This time it was old Benjamin, and he too wordlessly headed into the living room to sit down. He, unlike Boxer, chose a large, red, leather chair and plopped down in it. "The rest of the party should be arriving shortly." Napoleon explained, as he brought the food in and took his seat in a the largest chair next to the fire. Napoleon sat down with his guests to wait. Still, none of them spoke. Despite their best intentions, they were all tremendously angered, but did not wish to share it yet. The doorbell rang for a third time. It was the final guests, Clover and Snowball, who had arrived together. "You are the last two. Please, come in and sit down." "Thank you," replied Snowball. All the guests were finally seated, all of them with anger obvious in their eyes and expressions. Napoleon was the first to speak. "Welcome to my home. I imagine we will be here for a while, so please make yourself comfortable." "We will," said Boxer, speaking for the entire group. "As you can tell, the four of us are very angry at you," stated Clover. "You carried out the revolution and then naturally rose to the top because of your intelligence," continued Boxer. "We have no problem with that." "It wasn't just him," added Snowball. "I rose to the top too." Everyone in the room knew that although both Snowball and Napoleon rose to the top because they were pigs, they were not the same quality of leader. Boxer spoke up. "Although both of you led the farm, you were so different. Snowball: you were a good leader. You knew what we wanted, and you tried to obtain it for us. You had our best interests at heart. For example, if you had succeeded in building a windmill, we would have worked less and lived a better life. Just how Old Major had wanted it." Clover continued for Boxer. "But you, Napoleon, you were bad. A bad leader. You were selfish, taking everything for yourself, not caring about the wants or needs of the lower classes." "Like us," said Boxer, speaking about Clover and himself. Napoleon interrupted. "I did what I deemed necessary. When we pigs rose to the top, I saw the situation as a chance for me to become rich and happy. I knew I could take advantage of the lower classes and do whatever I wanted, so I did. What is wrong with that?" "That is where the problem arises," Snowball interjected. "While I was there, I was trying to help. We made rules and tried to follow them. I wanted to follow Old Major's beliefs for a better life. I, like Napoleon, rose to the top, but I had my comrades' best interests at heart. I was smart, though, and Napoleon knew that. He knew he would have to get around me for the chance to take control. He knew people would want me to take control, and that is what I was planning to do."

Boxer knew where Snowball was heading. "Everyone liked you, Snowball, and would vote for you and your plans. Napoleon knew that he could not become more liked than you."

"So I used force," Napoleon admitted, although he did not seem particularly ashamed of this fact. "So you used force. You got the dogs to kick Snowball out. Then it was just us naive folk left, who knew nothing about what you were doing," said Boxer. Everything was finally coming together, and he was truly realizing how fooled he had been.

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"You are forgetting about someone," added Benjamin.All the animals turned to look at Benjamin. They had forgotten about him, for he had not spoken up yet. "I was wise. I was on to the old pigs the entire time. From Old Major's speech to the end of Animal Farm, I knew that Animalism was a bad idea." "But you could not show this to the Animals because of my propaganda campaign. Yes, the propaganda. It worked so well. I--" "You brainwashed us," interrupted Clover. "To put it harshly, I guess I did 'brainwash' you." Napolean admitted. "Once I got Snowball and his ideas out, I needed something so you would follow me. I knew the lot of you was naive, but I did not realize it was to such an extent. I fed all of you with propaganda - the speeches, poems, songs, and traditions. The lower classes fell for all of it. I got all of you to--" "Enough!" cried Snowball. "I want you to know that nothing you did was right, and you are making the lower classes look like fools, when you are the criminal." "Yes, you are." Boxer would no longer be the fool. "I am not the criminal. All I did was seize a great opportunity. I could not miss it." "That is where the problem lies," responded Snowball. He knew by the look in the eye of Napoleon that, no matter what he said, Napoleon could not be converted to the other animals' point of view. He knew the best he could do is let him understand the other side, even if he would never respect it. "This was not just an 'opportunity' to make your life better. These were living animals that you are ruling! Animals!" "I agree," Benjamin added wisely. "Okay, I understand why you feel the way you do. My belief is that someone, presumably Snowball, would have done the same thing I did had I not been there. I needed to seize the opportunity before someone else did! I took over and then used propaganda and religion to make my control last. Religion, that's what I wanted to say. Keeping Moses around was one of the best decisions I made. It made everyone continue to work because it promised them a heaven when they were done. Everyone fell for that, especially--" "Me. Especially me," interrupted Boxer. He knew where Napoleon was going. "I believed every word of what Napoleon said. I fell for all of the propaganda and believed in everything Moses said. I cannot believe I was such a fool. 'I will work harder' and 'Napoleon is always right.' I am so disappointed in myself. "Don't feel bad, Boxer," stated Clover. "He is the villain. He is the one who lied to us, who didn't keep any of the ideals that Old Major proclaimed in his speech, and that we all loved." Benjamin then realized that this could have all been prevented had he worked harder to get everyone to see what Napoleon was doing. He was angry at himself, but then got angry at Napoleon because he put them all in that position. "I still cannot wrap my mind around what you have done," said Snowball. "You lied to everyone on the farm, telling them what they want to hear. Telling them what they want so that you would live like the rich. You used Old Major's ideas from the revolution and bastardized them to create your own country with your own laws and rules that would make you a dictator. You broke every rule he set out and went so far as to trade with humans on other farms. You did anything that you thought would benefit you, even if it meant changing the rules. Animal Farm was not Animalism; it was a country ruled by a dictator!" he yelled. "Yes, a dictator," repeated Boxer. "A dictator," repeated Clover. Napoleon knew in his heart that he could not win. They were ganging up on him, and now he could see why. He knew that he did some bad things as the leader, but not nearly as bad as they made it out to be. Of course, he could not admit this to them. He just hoped they would stop talking about all the bad he had done. It was exactly the opposite, though, because Snowball continued to put down Napoleon. "You used Old Major's idea to make life better, changed it, and turned it into a situation where you got everything. Even worse, the animals did not know what you were doing because of all the propaganda you fed them. You LIED to them; you changed all the rules. I cannot forgive you for this, ever. "Me neither," agreed Benjamin "Me neither," agreed Clover. "Me neither," agreed Boxer. "You killed me! That shows what kind of pig--" "ENOUGH," roared Napoleon. "Everybody out. OUT! NOW!" He was screaming at the top of his lungs. He chased them out the door screaming, "I CAN'T STAND THIS! GET OUT!" After they had all left, Napoleon calmed down. He sat down to think about the day. The silence and emptiness let the full effect of what he had done sink in. He got angry at himself, than really angry.

"HOW COULD I?!" he screamed, but there was no one to hear him.

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By Lucas Fagan


ABANDONED WINTERLAND This white cold blanket softy covers the trees, as it is untouched The long, narrow road has been plowed already but no one dares to go down to this old abandoned, gated road The sun reflects the white mirrors and makes beautiful crystal lights, as if these trees are a million chandeliers lifting up this abandoned neighborhood You could smell the freshness of the snow and you could feel it melting down your back as you make snow angels in this beautiful wonderland, if only someone were here to enjoy this magical place Eventually toward the end of the season a plop is heard signalling the end of the peace and hope And at the end of this magical season and once this place is gone, the long narrow road is no longer abandoned By Allie Goldberg

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By Matthew Dertouzos


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Profile for MBS Communications

Mélange 2013  

Mélange 2013