Crimson Ink 2016-2018

M at er D ei H i gh Sch ool 's l i t er ar y ar t m agazi n e

CrimsonI nk

writing t abl e of con t en t s

An Ode to My Best friend Celine by Elaine Vu ........................................................................................ 1 Her End by Kristina Crilly ........................................................................................................................... 3 Northern Lights by Scott Macias .............................................................................................................. 9 Faith by Stella Pozzuoli ............................................................................................................................ 11 American Dream by Brianna Buckle ...................................................................................................... 14 Immigrants by Dranreb Barnuevo ......................................................................................................... 14 Honor by Morgan Righeimer .................................................................................................................. 15 Spread the Dream by Rod Gonzalez ...................................................................................................... 16 A Voice of Change by Talia Solis ............................................................................................................. 16 Crash by Peyton Kassouf ........................................................................................................................ 21 Departed by Mikey Pierson .................................................................................................................... 23 Memories to Cemeteries by Skye Foucrier ........................................................................................... 23 Thousand Years by Maddy Perkins ........................................................................................................ 23 Page Turner by Mikaela Corella ............................................................................................................. 24 Dream by Monsterrat Romero ............................................................................................................... 24 Youth by Maddy Mickey .......................................................................................................................... 24 Two Star-Crossed Lovers by Skye Foucrier ........................................................................................... 24 I No Longer Fear by Maddy Perkins ...................................................................................................... 24 Spring by Maddy Mickey ......................................................................................................................... 24 We the Creatures by Lauren Jackson ..................................................................................................... 25 Corrupted By Age by Lauren Jackson .................................................................................................... 25 Mad World by Phoenix Bednar .............................................................................................................. 26 Colors by Kyra Le ..................................................................................................................................... 27 Elements by Grant Elsenpeter ................................................................................................................ 28 Journeys to Destinations by Dranreb Barnuevo .................................................................................. 29 Crossing Over Boundaries by Alexis Correa ......................................................................................... 32 Rain by Melita Kalczynska ....................................................................................................................... 34 By the Sea by Joshua Sallot ..................................................................................................................... 35 Fixation by Rachelle Perez ...................................................................................................................... 36 Galaxies by Ciara Corbett-Browne ......................................................................................................... 38 Once Upon a Time by Amy Dao ............................................................................................................. 39 Home by Liz Demster .............................................................................................................................. 40 Frozen Still by Morgan Anderson, Jenna Franco, and Summer Shaffer ............................................ 41 Beautiful Choice by Nathan Moore ....................................................................................................... 43 Eternity by Kyra Le ................................................................................................................................... 44 Home by Jocelyn Ayala ............................................................................................................................ 45 Fear by Vanessa Maldonado .................................................................................................................. 47 Summer Nicole Shaffer by Morgan Anderson ..................................................................................... 51 A Pair of Golden Eyes by Rory Dahl ....................................................................................................... 53 The End by Thuan Tran ........................................................................................................................... 55 Cocky by Ethan Nguyen .......................................................................................................................... 57 Buried Hearts by Charlene Pham .......................................................................................................... 61

Down the Rabbit Hole by Cadence Gronski ........................................................................................... 66 Dirt by Lauren Linares ............................................................................................................................... 68 Sunglasses by Catherine Wasson ............................................................................................................ 69 Finding Home by Joey Farney III ............................................................................................................... 71 Papa by Sydney Bragalone ....................................................................................................................... 74 Heights by Daniella Jones ..........................................................................................................................76 A Preemptive Ode to Spring by Amanda Klarin ..................................................................................... 78 Hello Diary by Lauren Jones ..................................................................................................................... 80 Trees by Hunter Tran ................................................................................................................................. 86 Rise! Rise the People by Tran Thu ............................................................................................................ 87 Untitled by Alyssa Johnson ....................................................................................................................... 89 Dog Missing Please Help by Peter Baird ................................................................................................. 92 Put Down by Jeremy De La Torre ............................................................................................................. 94 The World Goes Round by Elena Telesco ............................................................................................... 95 Odysseus by Tiffany Le ............................................................................................................................. 97 Moonless Dreams by Marie Santos ........................................................................................................ 99 What Happened to Us by Janna Franco ................................................................................................ 102 There's Nothing by Lara Velazquez Rivera ............................................................................................ 104 Unfortunate by Mackenzie Fernandez .................................................................................................. 105 How Do We See Happiness? by Jeremy De La Torre ........................................................................... 107 Night's Trepidation by Monique Rivera ................................................................................................. 109 You and Me by Jocely Mcguinness ......................................................................................................... 112 This Woman by Joanna Estrada ............................................................................................................. 113 Mars by Mackenzie Fernandez .............................................................................................................. 136 The Truth by Ceanna Doria .................................................................................................................... 138 Midnight by Marissa Blasing .................................................................................................................. 140 Bedtime Story by Andrew Thomas Martinez ...................................................................................... 141 Benchwarmer by Eisel Pazon ................................................................................................................. 143 You've Never Known by Grace McSkimming ........................................................................................ 144 The Girl by Emma Califato ...................................................................................................................... 145 Learn to Love by Uyen Huynh ................................................................................................................ 147 Incomplete: A Memoir to Him by Isabel Vazpuez ................................................................................ 149 The Monster in My Own Closet by Brooke Holobek ........................................................................... 154 I Remember by Samantha Dreyer ......................................................................................................... 155 Thoughts by Mackenzie Fernandez ....................................................................................................... 160 Vote Yes On Prop: Love by Peyton Kassouf .......................................................................................... 161 Love Yourself by Christopher Sillas ....................................................................................................... 162 We Polymaths Will Have Our Day by Chris Andrel .............................................................................. 169 Muse by Victoria DePasquale ................................................................................................................ 171 It Takes Time by Anika Stiftl..................................................................................................................... 175 Who I'm Meant to Be by Leilani Alvarado ............................................................................................. 176

Insignificant Memories | No. 3 by Stefania Giron ................................................................................................................................ 2 Abstract Eyes by Danielle Miranda ......................................................................................................................................................... 4 Antique Cars by Riley Bartlett ................................................................................................................................................................. 5 San Francisco on Film by Emma Moore ................................................................................................................................................. 7 Northern Lights by Scott Macias .......................................................................................................................................................... 10 Cross in the River by Christina Habeeb ............................................................................................................................................... 12 Concrete Jungle | #3 & #5 by Nathaniel Bratter ................................................................................................................................ 13 Concrete Jungle by Nathaniel Bratter .................................................................................................................................................. 17 Never Forgotten by Thomas Brown ..................................................................................................................................................... 19 Illusions By Sully Manning .................................................................................................................................................................... 19 Christ Savior and Redeemer by Joy Le ................................................................................................................................................ 19 The Jeter By Brandon denDekker ........................................................................................................................................................ 20 Glamorous Illusion by Bryce Postil ...................................................................................................................................................... 20 Kendall by Maggie Quiroz ..................................................................................................................................................................... 20 The Woman with the Bird by Sofia Capdevilla ................................................................................................................................... 20 The Melting Pot by Destinee Manzo .................................................................................................................................................... 22 Strangers Road by Cecelia Lopez ......................................................................................................................................................... 30 Quiet Place by Braden Hotra ................................................................................................................................................................ 31 Over the Rainbow by Brianna Acevedo ............................................................................................................................................... 33 The Other Side of Things by Jeremy Thellman ................................................................................................................................... 35 Water of Water by Jeremy Thellman .................................................................................................................................................... 36 Starry Sky by Owen Engelman ............................................................................................................................................................. 37 On the Other Side by Britney Nguyen ................................................................................................................................................. 42 Houses by John Warbuton .................................................................................................................................................................... 46 Untitled by Isabella Kolesar .................................................................................................................................................................. 48 Great Gatsby Comic by Emma Hu ....................................................................................................................................................... 49 Lady Macbeth by Lingjie Feng .............................................................................................................................................................. 50 Project by Eisel Pazon ............................................................................................................................................................................ 52 Reminisce by Maria Ponce ................................................................................................................................................................... 54 Cali Livin' #1 by Colin Boland ............................................................................................................................................................... 56 Cali Livin' #2 by Colin Boland ............................................................................................................................................................... 58 The Great Outdoors by Nathaniel Branner ........................................................................................................................................ 59 Insignificant Memories | No. 2 by Stefania Giron ............................................................................................................................. 62 Broadway by Camille Danner ............................................................................................................................................................... 63 Impressionist by Lauren Pham ............................................................................................................................................................ 65 SPLIT by Blake Portillo ........................................................................................................................................................................... 67 You Rocks by Jeremy Thellman ............................................................................................................................................................ 70 #3 by Madison Johnson ........................................................................................................................................................................ 72 Island Getaway by Seth Miller .............................................................................................................................................................. 73 Abstract Wings by Theodore Vigeland ................................................................................................................................................. 75 Flowers by Aimee Sones ........................................................................................................................................................................ 77 Paisley by Athena Kitsinis ...................................................................................................................................................................... 79 POW Day by Carter Tolan ...................................................................................................................................................................... 85 Firework by Nicolas Simons .................................................................................................................................................................. 87 Lights by Paul Rhee ................................................................................................................................................................................ 89 Untitled by Isabela Kolesar ................................................................................................................................................................... 91 Untitled by Josh Hyden .......................................................................................................................................................................... 93 Untitled by Olivia Perkins ...................................................................................................................................................................... 96 Away We Go by Olvia Rangel ................................................................................................................................................................ 98

artwork t abl e of con t en t s

The Road Less Traveled by Amy Viers ............................................................................................................................................... 100 Insignificant Memories | #1 by Stefania Giron ................................................................................................................................. 101 THE BRIDGE by Kara Steinmetz ........................................................................................................................................................... 103 Under the Sea by Dylan denDekker .................................................................................................................................................... 106 Boom Baby by Amy Viers ..................................................................................................................................................................... 107 Shadows by Olivia Rangel .................................................................................................................................................................... 110 Untitled by Edmond Mawad ................................................................................................................................................................ 111 A HOME AWAY FROM HOME by Kara Seinmetz ................................................................................................................................. 114 The Lion by Adam Peters ...................................................................................................................................................................... 115 Fly Away Home by Justin Doan ............................................................................................................................................................ 116 USA by Brett Nelson .............................................................................................................................................................................. 117 Cali Livin' #3 by Colin Boland ............................................................................................................................................................... 118 Great Outdoors by Nathaniel Branner ............................................................................................................................................... 119 Sprung by Daniel Wils ....................................................................................................................................................................... 121 Skies by Davis Hombrecher ................................................................................................................................................................. 122 Landscapes by Jeremy Thellman ......................................................................................................................................................... 123 Untitled by Natalie Almazan ................................................................................................................................................................. 125 #3 by Madison Johnson ........................................................................................................................................................................ 126 Rockin' Poseidon by Amy Viers ............................................................................................................................................................ 127 Sunsets by Olivia Rangel ....................................................................................................................................................................... 127 Boat by Amanda Golding ...................................................................................................................................................................... 128 The Sun Sets Tomorrow ........................................................................................................................................................................ 128 Sunset Silhouete By Justin Doan ......................................................................................................................................................... 128 The Open Sea by Dimitrie Lukic ........................................................................................................................................................... 129 Searching for Otters by Amy Viers ...................................................................................................................................................... 129 Untitled by Shannon Mcaulay .............................................................................................................................................................. 130 Summer Waves by Joey Delaney ......................................................................................................................................................... 130 Sleepy Saturdays by Amy Viers ............................................................................................................................................................ 131 Pawsitivly Purfect by Olivia Rangel ...................................................................................................................................................... 131 Cat by Olivia Rangel ............................................................................................................................................................................... 132 Untitled by Kaitlyn Tong ........................................................................................................................................................................ 132 Pretty Penny by Olivia Rangel .............................................................................................................................................................. 133 Untitled by Raymond Langford ............................................................................................................................................................ 133 Untitled by Patrick Manson .................................................................................................................................................................. 134 A Little Outside of Bishop by Angelina Larres .................................................................................................................................... 134 GLASS HILL by Kara Steinmetz ............................................................................................................................................................. 135 SPONTANEITY by Kara Steinmetz ........................................................................................................................................................ 137 SATURDAYS by Kara Steinmetz ............................................................................................................................................................ 139 Untitled by Olivia Nicoll ........................................................................................................................................................................ 145 Retro Perspective by Blake Portillo ..................................................................................................................................................... 159 Beastie Boys by Olivia Cabo ................................................................................................................................................................. 163 Untitled by Danielle Miranda ............................................................................................................................................................... 165 Serenity by Nghia Dao .......................................................................................................................................................................... 166 Buddy Maui by Karina Marconi ........................................................................................................................................................... 167 Catalina by Michael Woodward ........................................................................................................................................................... 167 Discover by Linking Chen ..................................................................................................................................................................... 168 FOR THE BOYS by Kara Steinmetz ....................................................................................................................................................... 172 Think Different by Brenda Rodriguez .................................................................................................................................................. 173 Untitled by Megan Ettinger .................................................................................................................................................................. 173

A n Ode to my Best Fri end

Cel i ne Elaine Vu

Hmm? How long have we been friends for?

About four years huh We've pretty much been stuck like glue ever since we met

But the memories with you are forever Since when do we ever contradict each other?

Probably never Lets hope this lasts forever

Weird how we've never had any fights I think its just because of how we can relate To so many things

We honestly have so much in common We've had our fair share of laughs together Awkward, corny, inside jokes,

And that we trust each other so much Never told a lie to you Nor have you, or at least I hope

Playing our favorite game, Crying over fictional characters, And to making new friends where ever we go

You bring so many smiles to my face No matter what situation I can't even count them The moments pass by So quickly

I've had a blast with you ever since That little awkward first impression Of you during piano lessons You're my friend and you are my star

Cr i m son I n k | p age 1

Insignificant Memories | "No. 3" by Stefania Giron

Her End Kristina Crilly

All she could hear was the sound of the flames creeping towards her body, her once bright blue eyes now were a fade dull color as she looked up at the ash colored sky. She couldn't feel her body, she couldn't think. There were very faint screams that echoed through her head, she didn't know why there was screaming. She couldn't remember. What was her name? Her age? What did she look like?

There was a shadow that hovered over her body, screaming out an inaudible name. Was it hers? Or was it Death, ready to take her from the world? No, it had to have been someone she knew...but who was it?

"Demi? Hey. Breathe. Hey, Demi. Hey. Hey. You're okay. Demi? Stay with me, stay with me. Stay with me, stay with me. You stay with me.

Demi. Demetra! No, please, please. Please. Open your eyes, please! I can't lose you too! Don't leave me..." she heard a male voice scream out as the shadow seemed to be holding her body, yet she couldn't feel the soft touch. She couldn't feel anything. Blood trickled out of her nose as she could feel her life slipping away, her time was up. And she never got to say goodbye.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 3

"Abstract Eyes" by Danielle Miranda

"No. 1" Cr i m son I n k | p age 5

ACar Collection n ti q u e Riley Bartlett

"No. 2"

"No. 3"

SANFRANCISCO on f i l m Emma Moore

Cr i m son I n k | p age 7

l ights Norther n Poem and photo by Scott Macias

As the glowing green dances in the sky It makes you ponder why we are alive Gazing upon it at first glance It magically locks you into a trance Gracefully moving like a spirit dancing in the dark It will forever enlighten your divine human spark

Cr i m son I n k | p age 9

Faith Stella Pozzouli

Faith is what keeps me going Anger can't overcome me Intense feeling bubble up inside me Threatening me to fight back Honest answer, no

Running Running away from life Under the bridge but never over Never my choice Never my opinion Infatuated with everyone?s opinions

Cr i m son I n k | p age 11

"Cross in the River " by Christina Habeeb

The Concrete Jungle | "#3" and "#5" by Nathaniel Bratter

Cr i m son I n k | p age 13

AmericanD ream Brianna Buckle

I came from another country I didn't know what to say I didn't speak the language so I thought I had to go away But then I had a dream And decided to stay I worked really hard Doing what I loved And praying to God up above I came to this country to start something new The American dream is actually true

I mmigrants Dranreb Barnuevo

In need of help Moving from home Moving from suffering In need of shelter Good hearted Running from persecution A hard worker Never giving up hope The heart of American society

H onor Morgan Righeimer

We honor those killed in Action. We honor those who Free us from sadness. We Honor those who go the Extra mile. We honor you.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 15

Spread the Dream Rod Gonzalez

Disease is spreading through the roots in soil The cry gets louder and it is spreading Corrupt governments collapse and they toil Faith and hope is alive and flourishing We must spread the dream and keep Earth going

A V oice of Change Talia Solis

Break the silence of the ill.

May the voices of righteousness be heard.

Allow the struggles of the impaired to resound over all the nations, create a distinct, everlasting change.

THE

CONCRETE JUNGLE

by Nathaniel Bratter

Cr i m son I n k | p age 17

"Never Forgotten" by Thomas Brown

"Illusions" by Sullivan Manning

a collection of portraits "Christ Savior and Redeemer " by Joy Le

Cr i m son I n k | p age 19

"The Jeter " by Brandon denDekker

"Kendall" by Maggie Quiroz

"Glamorous Illusion" by Bryce Postil

"The Woman with the Bird" by Sofia Capdevila

Crash Peyton Kassouf

On Saturday, the power went out The city stopped Lights flickered before rooms filled with darkness Dance slowed to a murderous beat Aflash of high voltage, surging through On Saturday, the power resurrected The city moved

Cri m i mson sonI Innkk| |ppage age21 ___ Cr

"The Melting Pot" by Destinee Manzo

Depa r t ed Mikey Pierson

The people I trusted, the breath I spared, and the emoti onless endi ng deemed to glass fragi le and transparent, leavi ng a di fferent self wi thi n me-somethi ng that i s tame and unspoken, nothi ng of my nature. You know who and what was forgotten, left for the Wild of i magi nati on.

M emories to Cemeteries Skye Foucrier

In the spring, it always blossoms stories.

Ours then as well, and birds still sing for us, as if created in laboratories.

You would smile at me even when I fussed.

Your friends said you were not a romantic,

T housa nd Y ea r s

But every day was filled with surprises.

Maddie Perkins

Roses you brought home drove my heart frantic.

Your wide smiles always brightened my dull skies.

Hea r t bea t s f a st . How ca n

The way your hand fit perfectly with mine.

I lov e when I 'm a f r a id,

I cannot help to stare when you are near.

Y ou st a nd a lone somehow. I

The scene was beautiful, just sublime, When our eyes locked, others just disappeared.

Wa it f or y ou, don't be

50 years past, I still walk and birds sing.

A f r a id I ha v e lov ed y ou.

Now for you, my dear, the flowers I bring.

I will lov e y ou f or A t housa nd y ea r s. I will B e br a v e, but t hen y ou Ha v e come one st ep closer

Cr i m son I n k | p age 23

Pa ge T ur ner

Dream

Mikaela Corella

Montserrat Romero

T ur n t he whit e pa ges.

Dreaming never ends Even when we walk around Heads lie in dreamclouds

Let t he ink immer se y our t hought s T he st or y begins...

Yo u t h Maddy Mickey

Once upon a younger year, All our shadows came out, We knew our lessons made memories Never let it slip away Life lived for younger days

Two St ar-Crossed Lovers Skye Foucrier

The bal l room was f il l ed, But , I was capt ivat ed, By your sparkl ing eyes.

I N o Lo n g er Fea r Maddie Perkins

I am t er r ibl e: st il l depr essed, St il l misunder st ood, st il l by you I say t he l ess you Know t he bet t er . I can't Get mor e depr essed, wake up In t he middl e of war .

Spring Maddy Mickey

Grassisgreen asday Dandelionsblown away Thankf ul wishesmade

We t h e Cr e a t u r e s

Lauren Jackson We the creatures have problems with humans We don?t like their fancy things that move them Or how they leave their homes thrashed, in ruins Or how they ?care? for us, like a nice gem We the creatures love this planet, our home We grew to survive nature, unlike you You started out right, living in the loam But now you all fight, like in a zoo We the creatures find you all ironic You call us the animals while you destroy Our homes, our lives, while we are aphonic If you listen for once we won?t annoy We the creatures ask of you to care. Please.

Care for all living things, let us appease

When we are born we do not know hatred We only know to love all things in life But then we throw tantrums when frustrated And say we hate everyone from our strife When we are born we do not know races We notice each person is separate We don?t focus on the colored faces Not until we have been told who to hate When we are born we do not know the full truth We don?t know all the horrors and terror For they do not want to frighten the youth They can?t know that evil is human error We were created to love everyone Spread peace and love until the world is won Cr i m son I n k | p age 25

Co r r u pt e d by A g e

Lauren Jackson

MadWorld Phoenix Bednar

All around me I see phones in people's faces People walking around trying to catch PokĂŠmon Girls using filters to make themselves look beautiful People spend 3, 5, to 15 minutes taking a selfie After the first minute of it being posted, no 20 likes They start over again and do a better one

I get it What it's like to be alone, sad, disrespected for you, and bullied I have a hard time finding people to hang out with It may seem like this will last but it won't Have hope things will get better

I sit on a sidewalk, enjoying the day

In time, things will get better

A dog comes up and starts licking my face

If your looking for love, you'll find it

A man stands waiting for the dog to move

If you are getting bullied for your culture, listen here

He gets mad and kicks the dog out of his way He continues on his way I'm alone now A pattern is growing

Culture helps identify who you are in your society where your home is and who your family is I embrace who I am It may seem like this will last but it won't Have hope things will get better

A woman takes a selfie where she has makeup and is standing behind a burning building The people will care about the woman rather than the lives being lost A group of old women on a girls night are texting other people Not each other A couple is on a date and just texts each other without uttering out a word A woman gets surgery to feel better about herself Men and women cry over the fact that they are ugly It's a mad world

In time, things will get better If your looking for love, you'll find it If you are getting bullied for your culture, listen here Culture helps identify who you are in your society where your home is and who your family is I embrace who I am You aren't an unloveable one of society, you are beautiful the way you are No need to do things to torture yourself to make you pretty We are beautiful just the way we are There are ways to deal with pain

People of Earth Just listen If you are getting bullied, they are hating on you cause they?re jealous Or you are something they are and just trying to cover it up

Have a conversation with a group of friends is better than looking at a screen that has a conversation Things will get better for you I'm sure of it

Pay attention to the people who are sitting alone People alone aren't weird Try to be good to them Help a person in need People just ignore the needy and act greedy for more money listen to me

You are beautiful

Col or s Kyra Le

Carnation roses kiss the cheeks.

Orange sunsets sculpt skin?s physique.

Lemon petals twinkle in starry eyes.

Olive leaves stain the palms?small size.

Royal skies embellish the mind?s space.

Sweet violets adorn the honesty of face.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 27

Elements Grant Elsenpeter

Fire Powerful, light Killing, heating, igniting Embers, ash, sun, volcano Freezing, snowing, chilling Cold, flakes Ice

Journeys to Destinations Dranreb Barnuevo

Ride the streets Fast as you can go Long awaits your destination Far, far away you go To another nation

Cr i m son I n k | p age 29

"Strangers Road" by Cecelia Lopez

"Quiet Place" by Braden Hotra Cr i m son I n k | p age 31

Cr ossi n g Ov er Boun dar i es Alexis Correa

New people, new life, new me.

from the taste of my mothers cooking,

I didn't know how much of a change this would be.

seeing familiar flowers from my beautiful garden back home,

One day crammed inside a little house, thinking it would only get better for we.

to living everyday with the ones I love.

Little did I know, crossing that border would change my life.

My mother became my best friend... ironic .

We'll go back soon, you said.

To being the one I turned to for advice,

Now realizing you were only lying to me.

to trusting her with everything, to pouring out my heart and soul with her,

Day to night, Dawn to dusk,

all while knowing she'd always be the one to shield away my darkness.

this 16 year old girl spent her days with her brothers, picking these red, delicious fruits, just to please our father.

Meanwhile going from motel to motel, all while trying to finish my high school years.

The years went by slow.

Trying to keep up with my new life was hard.

I was jealous of my younger siblings, making new friends was easy for them, and they didn't have to give up their weekends to pay the bills.

I soon fell frozen, while everything else was in motion, I loathed for familiarity, however, I became weak, stuck inside a classroom unable to speak.

The little things sparked my memory,

I knew my day would come though, where I felt safe, not laughed at for my thick accent, not having to worry if my family could cover our expenses, and being able to see color in my black and white world.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 33

R ain Melita Kalczynska

In movies, sadness always comes with rain, A harbinger of tears and loss and death, ClichĂŠ that signals depression and pain, Accompanying a character ?s last breath.

But really, rain can mean a brand new start, A baptism of sorts, a beginning.

For some, a sight so joyful to the heart, They only smile, but wish that they were singing.

To feel the drops slide down their face, ticking, The lush, clean smell, the freshness of the air, To see the streams and rivulets trickling, And hear the kids yell, ?Jump in if you dare!?

There is a beauty to the rain, not fear, A welcome, peaceful pattering, so dear.

"Over the Rainbow" by Brianna Acevedo

By the Sea Joshua Sallot

By the fading light, The vibrant sun sets And brings forth a blackened sky Where the moon is the centre

"The Other Side of Things" by Jeremy Thellman

Cr i m son I n k | p age 35

F i x at i on Rachelle Perez

What will it take for me to be inspired?

Callings that will be truly life changing.

Acts of greatness made to be admired, Moments of true awe left us all hanging.

Inspiration can be found by looking.

The birds, sunset, ocean waves wave back to us.

Our world was not meant to be on booking, Meant to be enjoyed not by car or bus.

Felt with our hands and seen through our own eyes, Admiration in our hearts for beauty.

There is not enough time to be small wise, Be of the world and fulfill your own duty, The world is my muse and inspiration, The heart of an artist's fixation.

"Water of Water " by Jeremy Thellman

"Starry Sky" by Owen Engelman

Cr i m son I n k | p age 37

Galaxies Ciara Corbett-Browne

Connect the freckles on her face Try and count the stars in her eyes Smile as she tells you anything and everything Her love of family and her fear of heights Her smile lines like the spots in the moon Her laugh the brightness of your day Her heart bigger than galaxies Her voice clears the grey away She means everything to you Keep her in your sights best you can And although she might not know it She has your heart in her hand

Once Upon a Time Amy Dao Once upon a time, kids could just be wild But not anymore, as life became deprived Once upon a time, kids could just be children But not anymore, because life is described As tiring, a lot of work, and adverse Jobs and what type of college we'll go to Is what we all stress about, our world's curse Once upon on a time, kids did not need to Know what they will be doing in ten years, Twenty, or thirty. Once upon a time The future was not everybody's fears Not knowing your future is not a crime However, in this society, we all Have life. We are not perfect tiny dolls.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 39

Home Liz Demster

Home is where people are welcome.

It's where we learn our lessons and gear back on the right path.

It's where we are safe.

Although our freedom is limited and life may seem unfair, But it's because we are being prepared for something bigger then us.

F rozenS till Morgan Anderson, Jenna Franco, and Summer Shaffer

I see the soft snow flakes on my windowsill And I love the way the cold weather makes me feel I sit in front of the fire As a car slides on their tire I lie and try to keep from wondering why I remember all these memories and how much they meant Then I realize all the time wasted and spent You always thought you were my master All of a sudden you turned me into a complete disaster In times of need, I turned to theology You never gave me an actual apology Expecting that from you is like Greek mythology

Cr i m son I n k | p age 41

"On the Other Side" by Britney Nguyen

B ea u t i f u l C h o i c e Nathan Moore

Flicker of a smile, Inching across your face.

New babies, Dreaming in my arms.

Balloons of all colors, Edging towards heaven.

Apples, sweet and rich with cinnamon, Under a bubbling crust.

Tickles that make You giggle and squeal.

Elephants, massive and gray, Valiantly protecting their young.

Exuberant children, Running through puddles.

Young and old, Working together.

Happy laughter, Echoing everywhere.

Refreshing rain, Enter spring.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 43

E t er n i t y Kyra Le

Love is the wind that slaps your face at dawn.

Love is the warm sun that kisses your skin.

Love is the spurts of laughter children spawn.

Love is the light in eyes shining within.

Love is the crooked smile looking odd.

Love is the tight embraces spurning tears.

Love is the choked truth behind a facade.

Love is the anxiety facing fears.

Love is the breath of relief at safety.

Love is the adrenaline rushing.

Love is the knowledge of details dainty.

Love is the birth of something from nothing.

Love is the survival through endeavor.

Love is the one thing that lasts forever.

Home Jocelyn Ayala

There is a house that makes you feel immediately at home.

The smell of a homemade dinner mingles with the scent of fresh brewed coffee. You could often hear the sizzling of chicken on the stove, waiting to be gobbled up by giddy grandchildren. There are hints of red within the house, a red chair, a red frame and other inconspicuous pieces of red furniture. Red was the resident?s favorite color. This particular resident, was the sweetest lady you'd ever meet, with eyes that disappeared when she smiled and a laugh that lit up the room. If you were good, although it didn't really matter, you'd receive a hot, gooey chocolate chip cookie that practically melted in your mouth. If you were to wander out to the backyard, a fat, tan chihuahua would come waddling behind you wanting to go out alongside you. Her rough fur is a comfort as she slowly makes her way outside. In the backyard there is a small water fountain that has been converted to a garden of beautiful roses, tulips, and other blooming flowers. When the wind was blowing the right way, you can smell the roses and hear them rustling against each other. This house was my grandmother ?s house. It was a place of comfort and relaxation, and was often full of loud, playful cousins. It was a place of many sleepovers and water fights. It was always filled to the brim with laughter and will not be forgotten.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 45

"Houses "by John Warburton

FEAR Vannessa Maldonado

Darkness overshadows a room at night Large ordeals of pain bleed through people's heart It has now overcome all with affreight And now people begin to fall apart

It's creeping up on you like a haunting Fear brings an overwhelming sense of conflict It's always by your side like a taunting Causing a new emotion to inflict

But it's next to you as a remainder To not go ahead of your breaking point It's helpful like the perfect pathfinder Fear is the truth inflicting a main point

Fear is simply hiding behind your shield The shield that is composed of disbelief

Cr i m son I n k | p age 47

"Untitled" by Isabella Kolesar

Great Gatsby Co mic Emma Hu

Cr i m son I n k | p age 49

LADYMACBETH Lingjie Feng

S u m m er N i c o l e S h a f f er Morgan Anderson She lights up the room when she walks in Unconditional support she gives to her friends My hero in and out of the classroom My person to go to when I need to laugh Even though I annoy her with my problems Right there, she always is Never once has she said anything to hurt me I have always trusted her Calms me down when I'm upset Open to talk about anything with you Like a star, she is always there Everyone's favorite person She has the answers to all life's problem Helps you out when you need it Always knows what to say Feels sisterly Full of love and spirit Enough kindness for the whole world Ready to stand up for you and defend you

Cr i m son I n k | p age 51

"Project"by Eisel Pazon

A Pair of

G o l d en Eyes Rory Dahl

Once upon a time there was a town in the middle of nowhere, where a young boy, David, lived.

David wasn?t like the other boys, he was...different. He had something that no other had, which was a pair of golden eyes. He remained silent outside of his home but when he would find a room to speak, he'd go on and on. David preferred to speak alone, though that's what appeared to be true. In reality, David wasn?t ever alone in those rooms. His eyes produced these holographic creatures that would stay with him for all hours of the day. David's parents knew something had been going on but when they heard the laughter of their boy they made their way upstairs. Eve, the mother, gripped her arms around her husband and let her joyful tears fall onto his tee shirt. It's considered abnormal for a set of parents to never had heard their own child's laughter before but not for them. Their backs slid down David's closed door and sat for hours listening to the of his voice. As the day began to disappear, the chattering slowed and eventually fled.

The parents returned to their room to sleep soundly.

Up early, David slid into the kitchen blissfully. He spoke with a smile but realized nobody was paying attention. The halted mid sentence as Eve inched closer to him. She tilted his head up and stared into his eyes which are lacking the gold they once had. She asked who he was talking to last night with a falsely caring look on her face. David's smile began to fall as he lied when he said he had been alone. His father snuck away to his room that has gold flakes scattered around the floor. He rushed downstairs after hearing Eve's shaky voice invite him back downstairs. As Joe stepped into the kitchen, he saw Eve swatting her Cr i m son I n k | p age 53

hand through a blue transparent figure standing next to David. His eyes projected a menagerie full of animals, mythical and not. Bewildered, the parents stood in awe of what world was forming in front of them.

Joe laid the gold flecks onto the marble counter and looked back at David's eyes. He did this multiple times.

David blinked as gold floated down from his eye level.

His eyes were batteries, slowly dying. The feisty tigers that bragged with their fangs began to flicker then fade. The sparkly color that fell from his eyes piled on the ground. Eve gripped her son and looked at his new, colorless eyes for the first time. A blank slate is what she stared deeply into, an empty frame. Tears of amazement and surprise spilt down her cheek.

The worry was for nothing, for David explained, it was temporary. The gold would replenish over a night's sleep. He had just set the animals free, for now. David tugged on the hands of his parents and brought them to a plastic barrel filled to the brim of golden sheets.

He explained why he kept this all a secret for so long.

David didn't want to worry his loved ones, he was content with the creatures that understood him so well. Now that his secret is out, he realized he didn't need the creatures to be understood, he just needed to be himself and the love would follow.

David, his parents, and his menagerie of creatures still roam the streets and leaves specks of gold wherever they travel. If you're lucky enough to find David's gold, treasure it dearly and remember, you will be loved

for you.

"Reminisce" by Maria Ponce

Th e E n d Thaun Tran

Eyes the shady, night sealed.

Lads worn-out, unwithered on its curls.

The laurels advanced.

Runners whom renowned surpassed.

And the name died before the man.

And the Earth stopped, and paid homage.

Ground sparked and grumbled Through the days and through the nights Mountains fall, oceans drift.

So history of mankind is ash In the palms of nature.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 55

"Cali Livin' #1" by Colin Boland

Striding onto the soccer field Blindly believing I would yield Another victory

Ethan Nguyen

Cocky

Never a mystery

My team has never faced a loss After, we had never looked so cross What went wrong?

We should have known all along

Looking down at my feet As i experienced my first defeat

Never assume that you are stronger I have never felt wronger From this I learned a lesson Don't believe others are less than

Next time I will not be so cocky Maybe the outcome will not be as rocky As falling off a cliff. Go humble Then you won't crumble

Now I know Don't think so low Always try your best Despite the rest

Cr i m son I n k | p age 57

"Cali Livin' #2" by Colin Boland

TheGreat Outdoors A Collection by Nathaniel Bratter

Cr i m son I n k | p age 59

B ur ied Hea r t s Charlene Pham I journey for treasure if the gold, your hidden thundering heart? exorcized from steel ribs? is buried, battered, but not broken Treasure me to make your indelible features like mosaic art, painted into sand, into dust, with footprints coloring the map that leads to your pieces I'll crack this land open so leave it to me to realize each fickle clue of our prism riddle is the reflection of what glory, your open chest, is I hunt for treasure in the lost name of the first lonely heart, whose sentence was to drift, to dry, to fade into a legend, into a story

Cr i m son I n k | p age 61

Insignificant Memories | "No. 2" by Stefania Giron

Cr i m son I n k | p age 63

BROA D W A Y Camille Danner

"I painted these musicals because they were something I love and got to see the ones I love. I wanted to show people how you can form two arts in one. "

"Impressionist" by Lauren Pham

Cr i m son I n k | p age 65

down t h e r abbi t h ole Cadence Gronski

so much homework to do just enough time to see it through a notification sets off the interruption of a cough into the apps I go down the rabbit whole netflix snapchat instagram and more eye muscles are strong not even sore worth the bad grades and failures to keep up with the kardashians new trailers just another like won?t hurt eyes are assert hours go by down the rabbit hole

"SPLIT" by Blake Portillo

Cr i m son I n k | p age 67

DI RT Lauren Linares

Like a seed freshly planted Grow from within the dirt that they left you Grow to be tall and beautiful Because you didn't really need them anyway Loathe in self love and freshness Because when they told you to trust them they didn't really mean it Tough weather will hit you and you might fall over a bit Hopefully you are planted in a new garden with other flowers just as good as you Because they won't talk to you unless they need something Once your tall and beautiful And you've spent months becoming the best you can be And you open up to be so breathtakingly beautiful Gorgeous at first glance And You loathe in absolute and complete self love and freshness And the garden you were planted into fits like a glove Because they didn't mean what they said Because when they left you it was just a mistake Because when they made you question your self love and freshness they didn't mean for you to take it that way

Su n g l as s es Catherine Wasson

My vision is tinted

Many share glasses,

By the glasses I wear,

Some wear them with pride,

To fight off the light

Others try to discard them,

And heat I can?t bear.

Some wear them to hide.

My parents gave me glasses

My parents gave me glasses

And I still have that pair,

And I still have that pair,

I can?t say for sure,

I can?t say for sure

I own my own pair.

I own my own pair

We?re all given glasses

We all are given glasses

To be handled with care,

And vision obscured,

Many are protective,

But is vision without glasses

For their loss they can?t bear.

Really vision so pure?

My parents still own glasses

My parents gave me glasses,

And I know that by now,

A pair I still have,

But I can?t say for sure

A pair that I live with,

I own my own now.

And forever I?ll have.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 69

"You Rocks" by Jeremy Thellman

Fi ndi ng Home Joey Farney III

It was just us and the sea, I was at home.

I fished and fished with my father until dawn broke.

I could fish for days, touching the hooks sent vibrations through my core, with the rocking of the boat, I was at home.

As I heard my dad speak of his time at war, the crashing of the water sounded like the Germans stealing his freedom.

I felt fear, but I was at home.

As each year passes, I am lost.

With my wife by my side, I explored Rome, Walking down the streets, I was trapped in a vice.

Eyes were stuck on me like paper to glue, I am lost.

Back home I see others are lost, At the beaches for contests, they don't appreciate nature's beauty.

Littering, little houses, living life in laziness, I don't belong, I am lost.

New generations come too fast, I want to just enjoy each one, time won't slow down.

They all fit in to our society perfectly, They try and help me, but I am too slow. I am lost The sounds of emails chime chime, the messages click click I have contacts, I am connected, but I am lost.

Smart phones have made an outsider, as I flip my phone like an intriguing book, I can't get answers quickly, I am lost.

My future holds a fishing trip, The stories I will tell, the new generations will listen, I will be home.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 71

"#3" | Madison Johnson

"Island Getaway" by Seth Miller

Cr i m son I n k | p age 73

Pa Pa Sydney Bragalone

You were such a great man, a role model, a companion.

We could always make each other laugh.

We would explore places that I'd never been .

I could count on you to support me in everything I wanted to take on in life.

We made food together, you taught me all the recipes.

You made up words that were totally absurd just to get a smile on my face.

I remember all these amazing memories with you, But where are you now?

I haven't been seeing you as often And when I did get a glimpse of you it was a fleeting moment.

I would ask how you were doing and they told me you were fine.

They told me everything was going to turn out okay. They told me lies so I would not cry.

It was a matter of time before they told me you were now looking down on me.

That you were in a better place, But I believe the best place you could've ever been was with me, With us.

I love you too much, so I can never let you go.

"Abstract Wings" by Theodore Vigeland

Cr i m son I n k | p age 75

Height s Danielle Jones

I may be a baby bird Yet I have an ambition; To fly into the Heavens Soaring higher and higher I may be a baby bird I came from the bleak, murky concrete tainted with shadows and trash

Yet I have an ambition

Separate from the luscious, green grass: where the eagle pump their long beautiful wings

Soaring higher and higher

They have the grand opportunities and the colors of the sun, sky, and earth among themselves All I have is a golden dream that mocks from the clouds

To fly into the heavens

I?m hungry for more To learn To grow stronger, faster, and better To reach the heights of which only champions have witnessed To possess the cornucopia of unprecedented success

You?re too small Give up and do something else

What can you do?

You?re just going to fall

Just stick to the plan That?s not possible for a person like you I may be a baby bird My ambition, my greed Is to soar to new heights And take grasp of my perfect, golden dream lying in the clouds

"Flowers" by Aimee Sones

Cr i m son I n k | p age 77

APreempti veOdetoSpri ng Amanda Klarin

As Summer crawls forward She kisses my best friend gently on the back of her neck Leaves her a little more wind blown than before There is more space between Each strand of her hair now I find glory hidden underneath them

She is full to the brim with magic It is the peach nectar poured into my palms every morning Since early fall Leaving Sticky remains Hollowed out sweet spirit of soul (The not bones) It stays there all day

I think we will swim in this for a while Let the warm sun infect the pond of our bodies Reach forward into this Summer and the next like A plague Or a smooth trick of the rough light

We will dance through the rainy parts of the world Become the jesters of drought Drink up every Dust left behind by

the things that scurry from our feet She will laugh and the moon will spill over From her mouth Lands on the concrete It will probably be there forever

We most definitely will not There is rebellion in that I think.

"Paisley" by Athena Kitsinis

Cr i m son I n k | p age 79

H elloDiary Lauren Jones Hello, diary. My name is Rose Miller, and I?m 17 years old as of three weeks ago. Sorry if I sound awkward, this is odd for me. I?ve never kept a diary before but Turner said he found this one for me. Turner is really nice but he gets in trouble a lot by the leaders because he doesn?t like to listen.

They?ve tried to get me to stop hanging out with him but that is not an option. I?ve known this kid since diapers. I can?t just stop talking to him now. I think I can change him, make him behave. If there?s one thing that my parents taught me it?s to never leave a lost soul in the dark. We are here to enlighten ourselves and escape the evil outside this fence. To maintain just the smallest bit of light in our corner of the planet.

My parents also don?t like Turner at all. I try to rationalize their hatred of him by blaming it on his long floppy hair or his over sized t shirts or his distant and detached tone of voice. I like to make my parents happy and I like to keep the leaders happy, but I know I can help him; so I?m just going to have to disobey them just this one time. He?s so close to being casted out and I can?t let that happen. We grew up together, we always had lessons together, we have always been inseparable. I just can?t let him fall into the dark.

This is why I?m keeping this diary. I think if I can write down my feelings and my observations of him, I will be able to reflect and better assess his issues. When I?m done, Turner is going to be safe from being casted out and Father George will be so proud of me for saving a member of his Camp that he won?t even care that I disobeyed my superiors.

Father George is so amazing. He always talks about the people he?s saved with his teachings and ministry. I mean, heck, he saved all of us just by bringing us here. I think that if I can get just this one person, he will let me into the upper divisions.

I love this place. I love the community, the atmosphere, even the animals here are just better. I mean, I?ve never known anything else but this is still significantly better than the post apocalyptic wasteland outside of the fence. This Camp is my entire world. Being able to serve under Father George will fulfill my purpose on earth.

That?s all I have to say for now. I?ll try to update this every day when I can. Goodnight, diary.

Tuesday April 4th Today was the first day of saving Turner. I have to say it

did not go as planned. I tried to lead him in a simple morning meditation but he didn?t seem too interested. I gave him the most wonderful pep talk beforehand about how meditation can lead to the enlightenment of the soul and how it prepares one well for the start of their day.

However, through all of that, though he was looking at me, he wasn?t hearing what I was saying. Just sort of nodding without reason. Despite his far off looks, I started our first morning meditation. After about four minutes of peaceful, centering, and overall professional breathing, I opened my eyes to get a peek at how relaxed and in touch Turner had to have been looking and feeling. Instead, I found him lying on his stomach on the floor, drawing a detailed picture of a rose on the back of his hand with a pen that he must?ve smuggled in with him. He tried to play it off as his form of meditation but I?m not that stupid. He was always playing dumb tricks like that. Telling little obvious lies to get himself out of trouble; but I?ve known him long enough to be able to see through his tricks.

That?s all I have to say for now. I?ll try to update this every day when I can. Goodnight, diary.

Tuesday April 4th Today was the first day of saving Turner. I have to say it did not go as planned. I tried to lead him in a simple morning meditation but he didn?t seem too interested. I gave him the most wonderful pep talk beforehand about how meditation can lead to the enlightenment of the soul and how it prepares one well for the start of their day.

However, through all of that, though he was looking at me, he wasn?t hearing what I was saying. Just sort of nodding without reason. Despite his far off looks, I started our first morning meditation. After about four minutes of peaceful, centering, and overall professional breathing, I opened my eyes to get a peek at how relaxed and in touch Turner had to have been looking and feeling. Instead, I found him lying on his stomach on the floor, drawing a detailed picture of a rose on the back of his hand with a pen that he must?ve smuggled in with him. He tried to play it off as his form of meditation but I?m not that stupid. He was always playing dumb tricks like that. Telling little obvious lies to get himself out of trouble; but I?ve known him long enough to be able to see through his tricks.

After a brief ?I?m not mad, I?m just disappointed? speech, it was time for lessons. I made him sit right in front of me so I could make sure he was paying attention the whole time. Looking back, I realize that forcing him to listen may not have been the best choice. I guess, since he was being

forced to absorb everything the teacher had to say, he decided to make, as he would call it, ?the best of a bad situation.? He had a cringe-inducing counter argument to everything they said that seemed to have been brewing in his mind for weeks before he even raised his stupid skinny arm. ?You see, class, finding your purpose on earth is not as easy as you would think. It took me years to find mine as a teacher.? ?But Miss if you?ve found your purpose, why do you always complain about it?? ?The world outside this fence is filled with savages and is unfit for us saved humans? ?But Miss, if there is life out there, how come none of them have tried to get in here??

It was relentless. I tried to talk to him about what he was doing wrong but I don?t think he was listening. He just stared at me again and rhythmically nodded with that same dumb look on his face. My attempts to force sense into him were futile.

That night was a bit better because I got him to finally complete his late night chores. You see, he had been protesting them for a few months now by only doing them half way so that he wouldn?t get in trouble for not doing them at all. The rule is that ?everyone pulls their own weight. The Camp does not tolerate squatters.?I think he?s secretly afraid of being kicked out. He always acts like he wouldn?t mind and that he?d rather be out there, but, when I reminded him that people have been cast out for this before, he got right to work. It was minor progress but progress still. I have my work cut out for me, diary. I know I can do it, though. I just know this is my purpose in life and I know I will be excellent at it. It?s getting late. Goodnight diary.

Wedn esday Apr il 5t h

omething amazing happened today, diary. Turner and I were in lessons and he did it. He was quiet the entire class. I saw him almost raise his hand once but he just relaxed his shoulder and sat back in his seat. It was probably the proudest moment of my life. I rode that victory high all through the day. I carried myself like I had just been told by Father George himself that I had done a great job. I don?t even remember what happened at or after dinner because I was just so proud of Turner and of myself.

I?ll try to keep updating you daily. Goodnight, diary.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 81

Thursday April 6th

I?m nervous to even write this down but I believe I have the perfect hiding place for this diary and I?m confident that no one will ever find it. It so perfect in fact that I don?t think I can tell even you, diary. Just in case.

Something happened to me today that made me have a few doubts about the ministry. I never questioned anything before, I mean why would I? I was born into it, raised in it. My parents are the most devoted members of this Camp and honestly I am too. I am the favorite of all of my teachers and I have so many friends within the Camp.

I don?t know anything outside of this group, outside of this Camp. I?ve just believed everything they?ve told me. At least up until now.

When I was a kid I would ask my parents about what was outside the fence and they would tell me it was a horrible, desolate, mean, and unforgiving place. They described it as a barren wasteland over run with murderers and sinners. They said that after the big wreck, all of the people and animals outside of this fence were left horribly disfigured. They all lost all sense of humanity and empathy and just turned into blood thirsty, meat eating, monsters. They said that there was no longer distinction between man and beast because they all turned into giant, hairy, grotesque creatures with one purpose and one purpose only. To kill.

Of course, this terrified me so much that I eventually stopped asking. But today, just after lunch, I was taking my shift in the garden behind my house. We have a giant garden in my backyard that provides most of the fruits, vegetables, and herbs for the rest of the camp so it requires tending to everyday. My dad is the head of the defense group so we live on the outer edge of the Camp to keep watch for the outside barbarians.

Anyway, today when I was about half way done harvesting the strawberries, I looked up and saw something just outside the fence. It was nibbling at the leaves of a berry bush that was poking out of the holes in the chain link fence. At first I was scared, I mean up until now I thought that every living thing outside this fence was a blood thirsty beast, of course I was scared. But this thing wasn?t looking for flesh, nor was it horribly disfigured. It was actually kind of cute. I needed to get a

closer look to be sure. I stepped towards the creature, but it stopped its nibbling and shot up its ears like bullets. I knew my presence had been detected so I stepped quieter and crouched closer to the ground in hopes that it wouldn?t hear me again. As I got closer, I was able to get a better look at it. It had a long caramel face with large black nose at the tip, a small patch of white under its neck and chin that was stained shades of purple and red from the berries it?d been nibbling, and bulging black eyes. Its eyes were hollow and dark but for a moment, I could see myself in them. It was like we switched places and it was me standing outside the gate, breathing heavily and listening intently, staring at this foreign form on the other side of a berry bush. My feet moved instinctually one right after the other. I guess I had gotten a little too close because she turned and sprinted away as fast as she could when I was inches from petting her long brown nose. It was only when she turned around and I saw that little tuft of white and brown hair at the bottom of her spine that I knew what she was: She was a deer.

But that doesn?t make sense. That deer was so normal looking and so vegetarian that it couldn?t possibly exist outside of the fence. I?d never seen a deer in real life before because Father George didn?t think they were important enough to bring in the camp with the rest of us. I only knew what it was cause of the little animal book my mother read to me when I was a baby. He said nothing survived. They all said nothing survived. So why was there a deer outside the gate? It doesn?t make sense.

Monday April 10th

?Come on Rose, it?s not coming back. Please let?s go inside. It?s cold.? He tried to grab my hand and lead me back inside but I pulled it back and reassured him she was coming.

?Look, Rose, there is no ?she?. There is no deer out there. I don?t know what you saw but-? I cut him off before he could tell me I was insane.

?No. She is real and she?ll come back.? I snapped. He got up without saying a word. I felt him sort of linger behind me for a minute before he put his hand on my shoulder and made one last attempt to get me to go inside with him.

?Please, Rose. Don?t do this, okay?? He pleaded, ?It?s been three days, if it was gonna come back it would have done it by now? I think something inside of me knew he was right but something else, something a little stronger, told me that she would be back to prove him wrong. I didn?t say anything; just touched his hand that was still resting softly on my shoulder and began to cry, very very quietly so that he wouldn?t notice. I guess he really didn?t because we only sat like that for a second before he pulled his hand away and walked slowly out the side gate.

He didn?t show up at all for meditations the next morning, or this morning. He was at lessons but didn?t go to the garden after. The deer didn?t show up today either but I?ll get her tomorrow. I?ll try to update you later, diary.

Thursday April 12th

It?s been about four days since I?ve last updated you diary.

Me and Turner have been waiting outside in the garden for the deer to come back. I told him about what I saw but he thinks I made the whole thing up. See, he?s been on this slight kick of listening to the lessons and believing what they say which is great but really bad for me when I?m trying to tell him that he?s been right all along. He now thinks all the animals were turned into savages in the big wreck but they weren?t. There was a cute little herbivore right outside that fence and he doesn?t believe me.

So every morning instead of meditations and right after lessons, he and I would go over to sit on a blanket in the garden and wait for her to return. I even laid out some berries and leaves outside the fence to attract her back. I think today was his last day waiting with me though.

Nothing adds up. Nothing they?ve ever said has ever made sense. I?m only realizing it now because of that deer. They said the world was a barren wasteland but that deer was healthy and beautiful. Since then I?ve done some digging into the books to look for other inconsistencies. I?ve also been ?making the best of a bad situation? in lessons, just like Turner did. I?ve even stopped meditating. Instead I spend that time going over all the facts and the teachings and realizing how idiotic it all is.

Speaking of Turner, he?s doing well. And I feel awful about it. He?s learning, he?s following, he?s asking questions in lessons again but it?s to get clarification and it?s almost all positive feedback. He?s really changing. He?s really buying into all this crap.

I?ve decided that I can?t do this anymore. I can?t just stay here and pretend everything is okay. So tomorrow, after lessons, I?m going to pull him aside and ask him to run away with me. He?s the only person I can trust anymore and I need him by my side if I?m going to do something as stupid as this. I know he?s all into this whole ?enlightenment? thing but there was a point in his life where he wasn?t and I think if I give him all of my doubts about the Camp I think he can un-believe. I hope he can, anyway.

That?s all for tonight, diary. Wish me luck.

Friday April 13th

He told me I was being crazy. He said I was being stupid. I told him calmly and nicely and I gave him all of my legitimate concerns about all these teachings they?ve spouted out at us for our entire lives.

?Why aren?t we allowed to leave The Camp?? I wanted to cry so badly but I had to hold back my tears, ?I?ve seen outside the gates and you?ve seen outside the gates and it?s just healthy trees and grass?

?That?s because our goodness is leaking out of the fences to make the trees around us grow. The rest of the world is in ruins and overrun with murderers and savages.? He stated. It was such a nonsensical response that he would have laughed at two weeks ago, but now he?s just regurgitating it like it was real science.

?Then how come we?ve never seen any of them? Why have none of them come and knocked on the door to get in to our paradise?? I say while fighting back that giant wall of tears.

?They?re savages. They don?t have the intelligence to come knocking on our door.? He tried to grab my shoulder like how a husband grabs his wife?s shoulders when he?s trying to calm her down. I let him, I think, because I really did need to calm down and think clearly. But I couldn?t stop thinking about how it was all nonsense. All he had to say was nonsense and loosely veiled excuses drilled into Cr i m son I n k | p age 83

our brains from the moment of our birth perpetuated by the fact that none of us have been outside of this barbed fence in 20 years. At least, until now.

I?m thinking clearly now and I?ve decided. I?m running away, whether Turner comes or not. I?m doing it tonight.

I?m going to steal my dad?s gate keys once everyone is asleep and just walk out the door. I?ll leave a note for my parents and for everyone else in this prison. Hopefully my leaving inspires the rest of them to wake up too. I really do love everyone here. They?re my family and I?m going to miss them? especially Turner? but I just need to know what?s out there.

I?ll update you when I?m out safe. Goodnight diary.

Saturday April 14th

I spoke to Turner just before I left. I went over to his house and I asked him one more time to come with me but he refused, again.

?Please, Rose. Please don?t go. I changed and so can you,? he pleaded. He was grabbing both of my wrists as if his point of view could be transferred into me through his tight grip.

?I can?t go back to that, Turner. I?m not like that anymore and nothing you can say will change my mind,? I retorted, this time with no tears and really no emotion at all. ?Just promise me you?ll take care of my parents, okay?? He reluctantly promised and wrapped his long skinny arms around my neck and squeezed tightly. We sat there in each others? arms for what felt like a small infinity. He has always believed the opposite of everything I believe but he was still the best friend I ever had in that place. I finally pulled away from the hug and turned to walk out of his door. I didn?t have the heart to turn back for a verbal goodbye.

Next I went back to my own house and wrote out a note to my parents.

Mom and Dad, I can?t be a part of this church anymore.

Please don?t come looking for me, wherever I am, I?m happy and safe. I?m so sorry and I love you both so much.

-Love, Rosie

?Listen, I don?t think what you?re doing is sane or a good idea but I?ll be damned if I let you go alone? he blurted out. I wanted to cry, I was so happy and relieved that he was going to come with me.

They probably deserved more but that?s all I could muster up. I folded the note neatly and placed it on the kitchen table at the end of the hallway so it would be the first thing they saw when the woke up. At that point, it was about 3 am and I assumed that everyone was asleep. It was my chance.

?You don?t have to do this, Turner ?

than I remember. As I pulled open the noisy drawer, I heard rustling from my parents?room. I had to act quickly.

My hand lunged for the keys that had slid toward the front of the drawer and I swooped them up in one quick motion. I tried as hard as I could to close it quietly but the un- oiled hinges forbid me from doing so. Just as I closed the drawer, I heard footsteps coming down the hall. My heart was racing and my feet were racing even faster. I was out the door before the footsteps rounded the corner. Luckily the door hinges were more forgiving of my condition and allowed for a silent but panicked exit.

I had made it out the door and suddenly the severity of my decision fully settled in. I was either very very wrong and about to enter a world of monster savages that want nothing but to eat me, or I would find a world just as my parents left it, full of non cannibals and non-man-eating animals. I couldn?t overthink it now though. It was too late to go back. I had made a promise to myself to just do it.

I walked the short ten minute walk to the front gates. I hadn?t seen a single person the entire way there but when I was just in sight of the gate, I saw a figure sitting on the front steps of the Upper Division Meeting Hall. I froze in place realizing I could not just tell who ever it was I was on a midnight stroll. I was carrying a suitcase full of clothes and a tote bag full of food; they would know. It was at that point that I almost turned around and ran back home but before I could I saw the figure jolt its head up and to the side in a sweeping motion and realized all in one moment. It was Turner. I relaxed my shoulders and continued walking towards the gates. When he saw me, he grabbed what looked to be his own suitcase and a wooden baseball bat and started in my direction. We met about ten feet away from the front gates and he started whispering to me.

?I don?t.? My heart stopped. I thought he had changed his mind ?But I want to.? ?Alright then. Let?s go? I pulled the keys out of my jacket pocket and jingled them in the

air. With that we both turned, simultaneously, to the gates and began to walk towards the oblivion on the other side. We were just inches from the padlock holding shut the doors to the outside world when all of the emergency lights flashed on. We were blinded by the sudden white light flashing directly in our eyes. I heard yelling coming from behind us but I couldn?t make out what the voices were saying.

He found it. He found the letter too soon and now he?s coming after us. I was completely frozen where I stood. I didn?t know what to do. Suddenly I was that deer, breathing heavily and listening intently for signs of danger. I didn?t snap out of it until Turner ripped the keys out of my hand and started stabbing at the padlock with every key on the chain. Silver one in, it?s a dud. Long one in, it?s a dud. Rusted one in, it?s a dud. It seemed like every key on the chain was broken. The voices were getting closer and more angry. Suddenly I could make their sounds into words. ?STOP? and ?DON?T MOVE? and finally ?ROSE, PLEASE.? It was my dad. He was chasing after me. I wanted to look back at him just one more time but my eyes still had not adjusted to the light and I couldn?t see anything outside of a three foot perimeter. I only turned back to Turner when he grabbed my arm and started yanking me to the other side of the gate.

"POW Day" by Carter Tolan Cr i m son I n k | p age 85

trees Hunter Tran

Remember when trees were nice and beautiful.

Soft luscious leaves swaying in the wind giving oxygen for everyone to breathe. Screen, clean, and green the trees are.Their flaky, rigid bark holding everything together. Apples blooming upon them. Birds picking, and rattling, and pecking, and capturing to feed their young ones.

Trees give us life. We take away, chopping and shredding their lives turning it into paper, Airplanes, and boxes.

Trees are our source of life and fun.

Rise! Rise Now their heads will lie on our plates, our land will be ours, ?fraternity, equality, and liberty? will be our motto, fairness will return to our fatherland.

Republic our land shall be, And if Austria tries to intervene, Naught fear shall we bear. ?Ca Ira! We will win!?

End the monarch, end the king, end the nobles, end the church, end them all

Cr i m son I n k | p age 87

eThePeople Tran Thu

The cries of the people reverberate through the land, height is of the revolution.

End the monarch, end the king, end the nobles, end the church, end them all.

Rise everyone! Rise!

Enmity must our mind, vehement must our spirit.

Onward toward Versailles!

Lady Liberty shall lead us to victory.

Unite brothers and sisters, time to take over.

If equality is implausible, obedience is disposable.

"Firework" by Nicolas Simons

U N T IT L E D Alyssa Johnson

She drummed her fingers on the counter top, biting her lip, cocking her head. The big red telephone, the one that she had picked up at Jill?s Antiques, sat there, staring up at her, the circle of numbers staring at her like an all-seeing eye.

A rather muffled whistle came from outside the house. She looked up, her recently cut hair brushing the back of her neck.

The train looked like something out of a movie, where the guys and the girls in ties and pearls would come rushing out of the train, laughing gaily, saying words like, ?detrimental,? or ?superfluous,? or ?thrilled.?

difficult to force air into her lungs. Her stomach seemed to have been taking gymnastic lessons, because it was better at cartwheels than she would ever be.

She started to smile at that last thought, and then realized that it wasn?t as quippy as it had sounded in her head.

She finally clamped her hand around the phone and yanked it up to her ear, dialing his number with her red fingernail.

The tone rang, and she rolled her eyes. ?Come on. Come on, pick up. Pick up, Hank!?

Or ?gaily.?

?Hey, this is Hank. I?m not available right now, so please leave a-?

There was snow piled up on the tops of the cars, glistening and smooth, and the whistle blew a melancholy song as it passed by the house.

She ground her teeth and slammed the phone back into its holder with a resounding ring.

There were only trains in the winter. A small inconvenience.

After that, the tracks remained empty.

He?d given her nothing. Nothing. Nothing but a vague message about hospitals and Blair and waiting rooms and call you when I know more.

She inhaled and counted the months until March. March? Yes, that was when spring started. She didn?t care much for spring.

But it was closer to summer than winter was.

It had been ten hours. He had to know more. Somebody had to know more.

In the summer, you could wear blouses and go swimming and breathe in the air without freezing your teeth. She would go to the baseball games, cheer on the town?s team, and when they lost, as they always did, she and the rest of them would throw their signs down like children and run across the dirt fields, slam their palms against the rickety fence, and call for a reconsideration of the entire game. And when Tim Dawson rolled their eyes at them and told them to ?skidaddle on home,? they would find themselves trudging to the nearest sandwich shop with all of their children in tow.

There would be peaches and dogs running and reading on the porch swing. There would be time off work, and when she was at work, everyone would be in good spirits, swinging the doors open to welcome the warm air and singing to themselves. All of the tuition and mortgage would be paid off.

Nobody would have any worries those three months.

She kept on frowning at the phone, trying to keep her hands glued to the counter tops.

Ugh, she hated that phone.

She?d let Jill rope her into buying it. The instant I saw it, I thought of you. It?s simply your style, dear. Go ahead and buy it right here. I?ll take five dollars off if you let me decide where you should put it in your house.

Her heart was pounding itself up her throat, and she found it

Cr i m son I n k | p age 89

An email. A phone call. A text. Just to keep her in the loop. But no.

Blair was young and spry. Whatever had happened, she should?ve been able to bounce back. She always did. She was Blair. She stood when she fell and cleaned up her messes. She couldn?t not be okay. She was worrying herself over nothing.

But why hadn?t she received a call?

She?d been absolutely restless all day. She?d cleaned the living room rug. She?d sold two houses over the phone. She?d cut her hair. She hadn?t cut her hair in years.

Oh, I was getting a little bored with it. Thought I?d just liven it up with a change.

That?s fine, ma?am. Would you like me to cut it just on top of the shoulders? That is very in right now.

Sure! You know what? Cut a little above the shoulders. Give it room to grow out.

Of course, ma?am.

He always had his stupid phone on him. He checked for exits in the school?s auditorium. If anyone was going to call her back?

She cast her eyes around the room, huffing. The furniture needed rearranging. She hadn?t rearranged it since Blair and her little friend had destroyed most of it while trying to make

forts, years ago.

A short chuckle buzzed in her throat and she smirked a little.

They?d had so much fun. They?d even hidden under the blankets, and they had shone flashlights at each other, eating candy and talking about boys and the cartoon about the unicorns.

Blair ?s little friend had, the next week, left Blair sitting alone at lunch because she?d found a new best friend.

She had sat in the newly arranged couch with Blair, rubbing her back and telling her that those girls would realize their mistake later on in life. That Blair was a great friend, that she always had everybody?s back.

And Blair did. When she?d lost her accounting job, she?d come home and tossed her purse by the door, slumping down into a chair and putting her head on the tiny table. She?d felt a tiny hand on her back, asking her if her friends had refused to sit with her, too, and that if they had, they would realize their mistake later on.

The same thing had happened with Hank and his bad run at work. Blair had been thirteen or fourteen, and had started noticing that her father was quieter. She?d typed up a list of things that he was good at, Schooling daughter at Super Mario being one of them, and taped it onto his computer. He was doing well at work lately.

She looked from the couch to the mantle piece. That clock was rather outdated, but it seemed to add a nice touch. Her grandmother had given it to her. It reminded her of her grandmother. Old. Loud, and yet classy.

Before her grandmother had died, she?d always taken Blair out for muffins, and Blair would come back with the funniest stories.

Mom. You will not believe what she did.

Oh, if it?s anything less than bringing her own butter, I think I can believe it. Sorry, continue.

Well, she walks into the shop. And there?s a new guy working at the counter. He was none other than the guy who had just been fired from Ingrid?s.

When the phone rang, she jumped, gasping. Her hand flew to her chest and she squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she turned, stared at the phone for a split second, and picked it up. ?I?m sorry, they didn?t give me the right address, and I couldn?t get a call to you and then they kept me in the waiting room.? ?What happened?? ?Celia gave Blair a ride home, and they got cut off by this guy, I don?t really know, but they?re fine. They?re mad because Celia?s car is wrecked, but fine all the same.?

She shut her eyes again and dropped her head. ?Um? okay, where are you now?? ?I?m in Bakersfield.? ?Text me the name?? ?Yeah, sure.?

She shook her head. ?How? how bad is it?? ?Blair ?s perfectly fine. Celia was on the side that they got hit on, so she?s got a couple broken limbs, but she?s gonna be good as new in a few months.?

She wanted to yell and ask why he hadn?t called. She wanted to say thank you for calling. She wanted to ask to talk to Blair. She wanted to get in the car and drive to where they all were. She clasped her hand over her mouth and felt tears sliding down her face. She sobbed quietly and leaned against the wall, slowly slumping down to where she was sitting, cradling the phone in both hands. ?I?ll hand you over to her.?

She opened her eyes and sobbed again, loudly. She was getting those girls all the muffins in the world and nothing was going to stop her. ?Hi, Mom.?

The one from Nantucket or Lafayette?

Lafayette.

Oh yeah. That was the one that actually deserved firing.

Agreed. But she starts complaining about the door hinges squeaking. When someone comes in she?

She didn?t notice that her vision was getting blurry until she tried focusing it. She blew air through puckered lips and fanned her face, pushing her hair back with her other hand. She?d get a grip.

"Lights" by Paul Rhee

Cr i m son I n k | p age 91

Do g

Mi s s i n g Pl e a s e

He l p

Peter Baird

Did the dog run away?

Often he went to run like a stray, Go off, I wonder if he will ever find his way, Missing he will choose away, If he chooses he will run a certain way, Stray dog, Stranded dog, If you ever find your way, Nothing will stop you, Going, going, don't worry you will find your way.

Please someone help me find my dog Let's go help him Eat hopefully the coyotes don't eat him Ate they searched for the dog as late as eight Seven they had the most luck but still nothing was found Even after the whole town helped Helpless they were wondering looking for a dog Everyone searching hard and long Little boy don't worry we will find your dog People in the sunset searching for their dog

"UNTITLED" by Isabella Kolesar

"Untitled" by Josh Hyden Cr i m son I n k | p age 93

P U T

It?s easy to see how many people are put down, For the smallest things.

The smallest things is mostly our words, What we say affects how we feel, What we do affects how we react, What we do can change everything towards somebody.

We can be sarcastic and say,?Just go kill yourself!?

The next day you don?t see that person, But their parents in dreadful tears.

Then what.....an ?I?m sorry? apology.

I remember when I was put down, I couldn?t hold myself up, I couldn?t do homework, I couldn?t play with my brother,

D O W N

Jeremy De La Torre

I couldn?t laugh with my friends, I couldn?t do anything for I wasn?t happy.

I was smiling, but doesn?t mean, I was happy.

I have always been those ?smallest kid in the class? type of kid, But I always tend to have the bigger heart.

I?m the person who never gives up, I?m the person who kisses his mom and dad goodbye to school, I?m the person who?s not afraid and who?s always happy, I?m the person who doesn?t care for what people say, Call me anything for I hear all this nonsense behind my back, You know what...I don?t care because, I, I will always be happy with a smile on my face.

And for those who are being put down, Ignore them, because for all you know, They?re just waisting you?re time.

Th e Wor l d Elena Telesco

The trees are starting To turn great shades Of colors as warm weather is departing.

Burnt orange leaves run around in the air (personification) But nothing lasts forever (refrain) Sweet smells of pumpkin (rhyme) And cinnamon fill kitchens all over Trying to reduce caramel apple consumption (rhyme) Different aromas of spices mixing all together But nothing lasts forever Football rules the television On Sunday's. Always wondering Who won in each division The favored team ends up losing But nothing lasts forever Living life in the moment while Taking in the beautiful season In awe staring out the car window every passing mile Spring comes as winter eases me in But colorful leaves will come again Cr i m son I n k | p age 95

Goes Rou n d

"Untitled" by Olivia Perkins

Od ysseu s Tiffany Le

Sailing far and wide in a boundless sea.

Coming home from a perilous battle.

Plea of help coming from the son of Thee.

Alert coming like a loud snake?s rattle.

Temptation at its finest comes to he.

Sacrifices made to help the hero.

The desire to eat is strong and free.

Revenge comes soon with mercy of zero.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 97

No longer is the hero so alone.

But trapped for seven long and tiring years.

But the suffering won?t leave him alone.

But home is here and he can meet his peers.

Being remembered brings him joy and life.

Finally rejoined with his son and wife.

"Away We Go" by Olivia Rangel

Moonl essd r

ea m s Marie Santos

I lie in the dark with eyes wide open, I am lonely, I am bitter, for you let me down.

You left me, you broke your promise, I trusted you, I loved your company, Your endless laughter, your kind smile.

I appreciated your encouraging words, The nights we dreamed together.

Seeing the night change from dark, to black.

You are not there, just sky, Simply purple strokes of paint on an untouchable canvas.

The aroma of childhood dreams, Awaiting fulfillment in the surrounding air.

The Sun climbs over green mountains, And meets her companion, A handsome man with broad shoulders and blessed with Vivid dreams As I lie there with eyes wide open.

You protected me all those times, And now you allow life to slap me across my cheek?

I wish I walked with life, hand in hand, Regaining my vision of the world.

I wish I dreamed dreams that made sense, Dreams that are made of gold and have no end.

I lie in the dark with dreams that have no meaning, I lie in the dark with no care and with eyes blind, I lie in the dark with my eyes wide open.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 99

"The Road Less Traveled" by Amy Viers

Insignificant Memories | "No. 1" by Stefania Giron

Cr i m son I n k | p age 10 1

What happened t o Us Jeremy De La Torre

I don't t hink t his is going t o t urn out okay Compat ibl e is what we are not , I'm t rying t o f igure out what went wrong here t his isn't j ust we al ways said we were gonna now sit down right here and l ist en t o what I have t o t el l t his isn't heal t hy f or me nor you I'm not sure what It is about us, but we can't cont inue t his, I know it 's not onl y I t his has t o st op it j ust got t a t hat 's al l t hat I have t o say I guess t his is goodbye right Everyt hing has t o st op here Why won't t his work out I t el l mysel f , I Bel ieve it wil l cont inue, but deep down, I honest l y don't I scrol l t hrough al l t he pict ures, my heart f al l s t o t he ground and "al l t he good t imes" is al l I t hink We were l ike Bonnie and Cl yde, al ways you and me which made it we I never want ed t o end t his, but t he al arm in my head says we shoul d Why is t his happening, how coul d t his be You were al ways around I guess we aren't meant f or each ot her

"THE BRIDGE" by Kara Steinmetz

Cr i m son I n k | p age 10 3

Th er e's Not h i n g Lara Velasquez-Rivera

Why are we still here?

All these conversations worthless

Are we here because of fear?

Or do we just want some cheer?

Broken hearts and broken dreams

Why should we be here?

Trying to steal the children's gleams It seems to be a common theme

We should not

Taking someone's self esteem

There is nothing but a thought And the people left who fought

The sun will no longer rise

All the dreams are shot

All these truths are lies You can see it in their eyes

There is nothing

There is nothing but grey skies

I have nothing You have nothing

There is nothing

We all have nothing

I have nothing You have nothing

There is no purpose We are all wordless Speaking with no purpose

We all have nothing

Un f or t u n a t e Mackenzie Fernandez

As the waves hit the shore They dragged me under Visions of tears, pain, and agony flashed They drowned me with sorrow And turned my soul to dust They persuaded me with lies And ripped me to pieces Until I was none but a sliver Then the waves released me back into the world Leaving me bare The only way to survive was to pretend Walking around like a drunk Nothing matters anymore Everything is a dream and whatever you do doesn?t count Because death is inevitable And we?re just walking around like dead bodies Oblivious to the clock ticking down And our artwork getting older Shriveling up and rotting to dust

Cr i m son I n k | p age 10 5

"Under the Sea" by Dylan denDekker

How Do we See

H appiness?

Jeremy De La Torre

We all have different perspectives.

Laying your head against the window wondering your mind deeply into the sky.

Hanging out with your best friend, expressing how much they mean to you.

Hugging your mom and dad saying?I love you.?

It?s not always that you need someone to be happy with.

You can be happy alone, listening to music, going outside at night glancing at the stars, thinking how much you achieved in life.

Happiness is expressed all around the world.

Think of it this way, When you get an A on a test how do you feel?

When your favorite sports team wins the championship, how do you feel?

When you finally see someone you haven?t seen in a long time, how do you feel?

When you accomplish to get into your favorite college, how do you feel?

Happy is what you should feel!

Cr i m son I n k | p age 10 7

"Baby Boom" by Amy Viers

N i g h t 's T r ep id a t io n Monique Rivera

Dreaming does not occur often for me.

Though, those I do retrieve are not significant.

They play like grainy old films in black and white, Blandly and mutely.

Rarely, I have one that sticks to my mind Like the pollen remnants that stick to a bee.

Enthralling me, I?d re-enact the threads I?ve obtained All morning, continuing the dissipating memory.

It?s the sweet symphony of loving someone To feeling the wind blowing off of the Himalayas and onto your warm face.

To feel something new and exciting that seeps Into the deepest parts of your heart and entices your mind.

These are my real nightmares, though.

Haunting and taunting, they?re true faeries.

Grasping the desires held in my damaged chest, twisting them with their pale, decaying hands.

The mistake I blindly made hits me with whiplash: Thinking what I wanted would become a reality.

But it is, and would only ever be, a dream that never lasts.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 10 9

"Shadows" by Olivia Rangel

"Untitled" by Edmond Mawad

Cr i m son I n k | p age 111

You an d M e Jocelyn McGuinness

Dancing with our bare feet, under the heavy rain, You were like heaven, Resting your head so beautiful, I can feel you breathing with pain.

Were just reckless kids, turning the lights down low, Finding an island that we don't ever want to leave, Were young and foolish Dread in my heart and fear in my bone.

I don't want to lose the words that would run away, I'll just pray for a glimmer of hope, The freedom that guides me towards you.

So high up in the sky I can see your heart within your growth All I want is to know you're here So I can see a chance to prove all I can do time goes by when I'm with with you I believe in the light that lifts me higher you give me reason to guide me through.

THISWOMAN Joanna Estrada

She?s the woman who is my first role model The woman who is my rock while I grow up She?s the woman who I cry to with all my problems Yet, while I have my own issues, I don?t pay attention to hers This woman is as caring as a saint, Who has the patience of a preschool teacher, This woman is my marvelous and magnificent mother Looking up at her, I can?t imagine anything in her life wrong, I can?t imagine her feeling like an outsider in her own family, The same family I spend Christmas and New Years with How can the strongest woman I know, the woman who gave me life, Feel like she did not belong with her father 's family After feeling like she was the black sheep in her family, After feeling like she was unwanted, unloved, and alone, She found solitude with her aunt I didn?t know she was treated this way until I was older Just like she didn?t find out why her father 's family didn?t love her Like they loved her brothers and sister, Because she wasn?t their family, only her mother 's daughter

Cr i m son I n k | p age 113

"A HOME AWAY FROM HOME" by Kara Steinmetz

"The Lion" by Adam Peters Cr i m son I n k | p age 115

"Fly Away Home" by Justin Doan

"USA" by Brett Nelson

Cr i m son I n k | p age 117

"Cali Livin' #3" by Colin Boland

Cr i m son I n k | p age 119

GREAT OUTDOORS

by Nathaniel Bratter

"Sprung" by Daniel Wills

Cr i m son I n k | p age 121

"Skies" by Davis Hombrecher

Landscapes

"Still As Can Be"

"Up Close And Personal"

A Collection by Jeremy Thellman

Cr i m son I n k | p age 123

"Untitled" by Natalie Almazan

Cr i m son I n k | p age 125

Su n s et s

"#3" | Madison Johnson

"Rockin' Poseidon" by Amy Viers

"Sunset" by Olivia Rangel Cr i m son I n k | p age 127

"Boat" by Amanda Golding

"The Sun Sets Tomorrow" by Amy Viers

"Sunset Silhouette" by Justin Doan

"The Open Sea"

by Dimitrie Lukic

Cr i m son I n k | p age 129 29

"Searching for Otters " by Amy Viers

"Untitled" by Shannon Mcaulay

"Summer Waves" Joey Delaney

"Sleepy Saturdays" by Amy Viers

"Pawsitivly Purfect" by Olivia Rangel Cr i m son I n k | p age 131

"Cat" by Olivia Rangel

"Untitled" by Kaitlyn Tong

"Pretty Penny" by Olivia Rangel

"Untitled" by Raymond Langford

Cr i m son I n k | p age 133

"Untitled" by Patrick Manson

"A Little Outside of Bishop" by Angelina Larres

"GLASS HILL" by Kara Steinmetz

Cr i m son I n k | p age 135

Ma r s Mackenzie Fernandez

As I walk on land that I am foreign to I can?t help but feel different As if I had woken up on the wrong planet Nothing is familiar to me Stores: geschäft, streets: straĂ&#x;en; buildings; gebäude Not even the sound my foot makes as it hits the floor I am a man in outer space And eyes hidden in the dark can?t help but stare at my odd tendencies

I remind myself why I have come this far And that I have done it for my growth To find out what kind of person I am or want to be Although I feel stranded I know I am not Stranded means you are totally and utterly alone But I only feel this way I, myself had decided to do this alone

As I get closer to Frauenkirche The sun lowers itself to the Earth This is the one thing that I feel a connection towards I realize No matter where I am or who I am with I will always be under the same sky And so I return from Mars

Cr i m son I n k | p age 137

"SPONTANEITY" by Kara Steinmetz

TH E TRU TH Ceanna Doria

The truth is...

I'm scared, It won't stop spinning.

My thoughts and my feelings.

I feel alone,

My thoughts,

Like I don't even exist.

Won't stop moving.

It hurts to feel this way.

Left, right, up, and over.

Colliding into each other,

I'm crying,

giving me a headache.

Things are starting to slip away fast.

Friends are disappearing,

My thoughts,

grades are dropping,

Won't stop moving.

hearts are breaking.

Left, right, up, and over.

Colliding into each other, giving me a headache.

I'm tired, Sorting things out makes it worse.

One bad move leads to another.

Before you know it, it?s gone.

I feel invisible, Do they know I?m present?

"SATURDAYS" by Kara Steinmetz Cr i m son I n k | p age 139

midnight Marissa Blasing

The moon and stars collide Crazy things begin to happen Pulled closer to be with you Please don't go away forever Things are better at night

"Aww, Mommy, do I have to?" a young boy whined.

The boy's mother grasped his hand, gently, but sternly guiding him to his bedroom.

"It's getting very late," she said. "Get your P.J.'s on and get into bed."

Pouting, the boy marched to his drawer and pulled out a set of colorful pajamas. He wiggled out of his shirt and shorts and put the pajamas on. The mother tucked her son into bed, but he squirmed and fidgeted under the comforter.

andrew thomas martinez

bedtim estory

"What's wrong?" the mother asked.

"I'm not tired!" the boy whined indignantly.

Pushing her hair out of her face, the woman smiled sweetly. "Would you like me to read you a bedtime story, then?"

The boy perked up immediately at the word "story" and nodded his head rapidly. He loved to read bedtime stories! Chuckling at her son's swift change in mood, the woman walked over to the bookshelf and returned to his bedside with book in hand. They opened the book together, and the mother read her son's favorite story aloud. After reading the first few pages, however, it struck her just how tired she was. She could hardly get through one sentence without yawning. The mother started to close the book, hoping that her son was just as tired. He wasn't.

"Don't stop there!" he exclaimed. "This is the best part!"

The mother smiled again. "How about you finish the story for me?" she asked him.

The boy was beaming now. He took the book in his hands, reading slowly, clearly, enunciating every syllable. As her son read, the woman looked into his eyes. They were brown, just like hers. In fact, the boy was the spitting image of his mother. Even so, there was something in his eyes that set them apart from hers. Until recently, she thought that he had just memorized the story. Surely that was why he could read it so clearly, even though he's only five. But just a few weeks before, she found him reading a book she definitely hadn't read to him.

"Have you read that story before? Did your teacher read it to you in school?" she asked.

"No," he responded bluntly. He didn't look up from the book to answer, and kept reading aloud. Yes, there was no doubt. He was able to read on his own.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 141

That was what she was seeing in his eyes now. An intelligence far beyond his years.

But he was still five, and acted as such. The boy had a an old soul, but child-like sense of wonder. The mother prayed to God that he would never lose either.

The boy had finished reading now, but he was still wide awake. Fortunately, the mother had one last trick to get him to sleep.

"How about a prayer?"

"Okay!"

"What would you like to pray for?"

"For people who don't have good books to read!"

The mother chuckled again.

"That's a fitting prayer for you," she said. The two of the made the sign of the cross and prayed, "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death. Amen."

The prayer seemed to do the trick. The boy couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

Within minutes, he was fast asleep, breathing as if to the rhythm of a lullaby. The mother let out a contented sigh and kissed her son's forehead. She put the book back on the shelf and started to walk out the door. She took one last look at the sleeping child. For how much longer will she and her son be able to read and pray together every night? She pushed the thought from her mind. There's no use in thinking about that now.

"Sweet dreams, my baby," the mother said to her son.

Ben chw a r mer

Eisel Pazon

A herd of overpriced Nike shoes clamored in squeaks,

by the damp, sweaty, chlorine aroma

Attached to the feet, on those who wouldn't accept defeat

? Air that my lungs had to heave

Because we weren't allowed to.

The sky was filled with flags, Representing our colors,

adding gasoline to the hellfire, Atychiphobia.

To calm the want of wanting to leave.

As other 's feet walked toward the court, Mine stayed put.

One, after another,

Stuck to the floor by the glue called "No motivation"

Inscribed on the walls,

No matter the attention we received

Our ancestors won And it labeled us.

From the expectations I was expected to exceed once I set foot through those doors,

As I kept the bench warm for my team,

It was all just for show.

My untarnished, expensive uniform

These skills I've added,

stuck to my skin like a wet, plastic trash bag. ? Upon entering the enemy lines

was an accessory that only subtracted their value.

Adrenaline was injected into my veins

I became a sinner.

Prescribed to me every judgment day.

Baptized into a church filled with winners,

? The inside of my nose singed

Only to be casted out on the sidelines Praying to become better.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 143

you've never known Grace McSkimming

You t hink you know me You t hink it ?s t rue, But you?ve never seen, What words do t o you.

You?ve felt my skin, Brushed my hair, But below t he surface, Haven?t seen anyt hing t here.

For how many t imes I cried about you You can can collect t hem like rain And you would st ill have no clue.

I will learn t o t ame my t ides Aft er all t he t imes you have lied.

Do you t ruly know, What my ment al st at e is in? Or j ust see my looks, And over look what ?s so t hin?

You?ve had your last chance, To say somet hing right , But you have not , So t o you I say goodnight .

"Untitled" by Olivia Nicoll

Cr i m son I n k | p age 145

That Gir l Emma Califato

I stared for a century She had a confused look on her face She held a warm dessert in her hand and an ice cold drink I stared

She was wearing old jeans and a yellow shirt She was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, even if she didn't know it yet I tried not to look directly in her eyes, but I couldn't help it I stared

She looked at me trying to figure out what was wrong with me She looked at her oxygen tank she pulled around with her She looked at me with a sad face I stared

I thought about the future I felt like she was going to be a part of it I wanted her to be I stared

I did not care what people thought but I knew I was in love She finally smiled back My heart fluttered I stared

Le ar n t o l ove Uyen Huynh

D e ar f r ie nd, He is wr it ing t his l e t t e r t o you dur ing t he night , Whil e se ar ching f or t he moon Whe n t he r e is not hing but a he avy shade of bl ack ve l ve t above A s t he col d br e e ze br e at he s and t ouche s on t he t hin cl e ar gl ass, The t e mpe r at ur e dr ops l ow, Hit s his unst abl e mind har d He doe sn't k now whe r e t o st ar t For his wor d is spinning, A nd so is he , who l ive s in t he unsur e , t he chaos, and sil e nce In t he dar k ne ss, he he ar s whit e noise buzzing Pal e k nuck l e s t e nse ar ound t he pe ncil He wr it e s a l ong l e t t e r l ik e a name l e ss bir d t hat sings Thinl y quie t He 's a wal l f l owe r , He se e s t hings. He k e e ps quie t about t he m. A nd he unde r st ands, Or at l e ast he t r ie s t o be unde r st anding Compar ing himse l f wit h ot he r s be gins t o be a par t of his l if e , He wonde r s if you e ve r f e e l t hat way That you want t o sl e e p f or a t housand ye ar s Or j ust not e xist , or pr e t e nd so The conf l ict wit h ide al hur t s his he ad,

Cr i m son I n k | p age 147

Pe opl e l ove e ach ot he r , but no one r e al l y l ik e s e ach ot he r He gue sse s we 'r e al l suppose d t o t hink of r e asons t o l ive But how can one l ove whe n t hat pe r son is e st r ange d f r om r e al it y Eve r yone e l se is r unning, but why is he st uck in one pl ace His f r ie nds, e ve n his f amil y, Lik e t his, t he wor l d t hr ows him away He had a t al k wit h his psychiat r ist t oday He f e l t numb and t he r e we r e que st ions, but bar e l y sound St il l he said ye s, he was t r ying t o do it again He was ge t t ing f ur t he r f r om t he sk y, Ye t he has manage d t o sur vive some how, He want e d t o wit hst and a l it t l e mor e Cl ut ching t ight l y ont o t he e dge his happine ss, j ust a l it t l e mor e Unde r t he moonl e ss sk y, he pick s up his scat t e r e d se l f He l ive s j ust e nough, st e p by st e p List e ning t o t he voice of t he quie t and his bl ue l ight f ade s For he k nows it wil l be al r ight whe n he ope ns t he m, t o se e him as who he is He nce f r ie nd, he want s you t o k now t hat you'r e ok ay t o l ove your se l f A nd e ve r yt hing is ok ay, Love al ways.

Incomplete A M em oi r t o H i m Isabel Vasquez I might have been six, maybe seven. I can't decipher what happened, but I remember telling him to keep his ring on, holding his hand and telling him to keep the promise on his finger. A few years later, I don't know why I stopped him, a few years later, she wouldn't have been in so much pain, a few years later I would've forgiven him for taking the promise and tossing it, many years later, I wouldn't be thinking about what I had done. I could have saved so much pain if I had just let him go all those years ago. Now I have to pay the price.

It started with screaming. My sister and I couldn't sleep, every night we'd hear doors bang, the walls would vibrate. When things got too harsh we'd sleep in the garage with our cousins and aunt and talk it out, when we needed rest and comfort we'd walk down the hall to the room next to ours, my grandmas.

She was skeptical when he'd take his phone everywhere, and have late night conversations outside in his car. She got mad when he got late home from meetings, asking him if he even remembered he had a family. Why did he still go to the meetings? His days of being in charge were over. The worst days were when he would stumble in the house because he was too drunk to walk. She'd give him warnings of what would happen, but he never took her words as stern.

We thought that going to the priest at church would help him. They would listen too all of her problems, they told her what to do and how to control herself. She needed endurance, she had to have diligence to keep everyone together. Some prayers helped. Some days were better than others, well they could never go a full day without arguing but some hours, minutes, or seconds were better.

The rain was pounding on the windshield as we were driving on the freeway. I was the only one not crying, I have self control, thanks to him. My sister didn't want to leave, she has such a delicate heart that I wish I had sometimes. It wasn't cold that day, it was dismal, dark, murky, and I remember hearing a slight crackle of thunder. My grandma told us not to leave. I don't know how we got on the freeway and went to the hotel. I don't know how we got comfortable in a bed that wasn?t ours.

We heard the door slam and didn't know what to

Cr i m son I n k | p age 149

make out of it. My grandma came in the room and told us to go sleep with her in her room. ?Hija tienes que comprender tu mamรก,? you have to understand your mom. My grandmother would tell me that everyday, my mom needed of her mom, someone to guide her, she couldn't do this alone, although she hates showing weakness, even to her own blood. She always said my mom wouldn't leave him only because of my sister and I, I don't care! He can leave and never come back, I don't care! But everyone needs one of them, to scare off guys, to pick you up and carry you, to help you understand the mind of a boy, to be there for you when that guy breaks your heart. At that time I didn't think I needed him, I wanted him absent from our life, I wanted him to stop, just stop, I wasn't sure what I wanted to stop, if it was one thing or everything. My mom has dealt with him since she was 16, how can you give someone half your life if they don't respect you? At first she would brush the drinking off because they were ?for the sun?, yes, one for the sun everyday, one for after work everyday, one for dinner everyday, one before going to sleep everyday. That night after falling asleep it rained glass, I know I wasn't the only one that could smell the odor of a long day of work. Prayer helped.

It's too early, birds haven't started their morning task. The sun hasn't started waking up yet, but he was just coming in the door. His rationalizations were always the same, she needs help her coordination has just started, no I wasn't drinking right now it was from earlier in the day, she needed advice on being a good leader. ?You have a family, don't you remember that? First she makes you forget you have someone to come home to everyday, then she makes you forget you have two daughter that you have to maintain.? My sister would not be able to hear that conversation, that night my aunt took us into the garage, those walls are thick enough to not hear the roaring waves.

The next night he stumbled in the house smelling of cheap perfume, ?One day you are going to see how much you need us in your life,? she said, he couldn't hear the threatening sign, he was too busy getting more bottles before going to sleep. Prayer helped.

My mom mad an appointment to see the priest, ?You girls wait right here, I won't take long,? she was prepared for everything, she had the messages, the recordings, the phone calls, she always had a way of getting whatever she wanted.

After two hours we left, she had a new hope shining around her, he can change, her eyes said it. A rosary was prayed every night even when it rained glass, my other grandma prayed for her son, the priest would direct the homily to him on Sunday's making sure he listened. Patience, she had patience, my sister had patience, am I the only one that ran out of energy in thinking he can change? I was scared of what was happening, I didn't know what to think, I had to stay strong for my sister, I couldn't break in front of her. She talked to her, the one that was turning him against us, my mom asked for her to stop and she said it politely, she isn't the type to mess around with. The older woman brushed what my mother said off like she was crazy, sometimes I feel bad about what my mom did to her, but the lady with the kind murderous eyes and aging curled hair didn't take it seriously, just like him. Prayer helped.

She left a note, and was benevolent enough to leave his clothes on his bed and his shoes next to the bed, he really has her under his spell. Rivers came out of my moms eyes, oceans out of my sister, and me well, my eyes were deserts. ?No sabes lo que estรกs haciendo? you don't know what you're doing. My mother disobeyed her mother, so she drove and drove and drove, I thought the windshield would break because of the rain pounding on it, the beautiful horrendous noise was saying go back. The freeway was empty, another sign that she could turn around and stay, the police stopped us that night, he was benign enough to let us go, I imagine he has a kind heart, he saw the swollen eyes that were driving. The hotel had two beds, a bathroom with two sinks, four towels, a cough made for four, it was made for the four us, the incomplete mess that we were but it was made for four, instead three walked in, and two slept on one bed and one on the other, slept isn't the right word. Two closed their eyes and prayed the whole night pondering what had happened on one bed, on the other bed one of the three prayed and prayed because she had given up to soon. What did I feel, I remember only a little, I remember choking down the tears, my ego wouldn't let it rain. I was numb of how hurt I was, betrayal is such a strong word, I didn't think he would betray me, us. Four days later, fries were bought at McDonalds, the little one hugged him, the older one just stared and asked when she could go back to her mom. It was half an hour of unpleasant and forced conversations. Later

that night we were lying on our own bed, promises were made I thought he would break, and the family of four was again under the same roof, with raining glass and roaring waves but the rain wasn't pounding on the floor, it was sprinkling, and the roaring waves weren't roaring, they were whispering. Prayer helped.

Some days to him I am a misfortune, embarrassment, bad daughter. I have never been shown any acknowledgement by keeping the family together, so yes dad, call me an embarrassment and a disappointment, I am exactly that after keeping you from living without a family and without a purpose in life. Without us you're nothing.

Prayer helped.

Every night, she managed to slowly climb up onto her red shingled rooftop, from her old white framed window, and try to look upon the stars, imagining what they looked like, sparkling in the sky like diamonds. They gleamed in her eyes, making them glisten, brighter than any star. She made a wish, one for each night. She wished to see herself as regular. She wished to see herself as pretty. She wished to see herself as an average girl that you saw everyday. She wished to see. She didn't. She was rare. She was beautiful.

She was special. I just wish I could have told her through my own lips.

Today was the first day I started going to the program, now that we moved. We're now living in a suburban area, it's a little frightening, mainly for me and my not so small setback, and there are many homeless people on the street and gangs. My neighborhood wasn't too bad, compared to the others. However, there was this one house that is across from mine. Boy, is it scary, I think an old couple lives there. Old bottles that held alcohol were piled around the trash cans. My mom told me to stay away from it, but to be friendly if they were every outside, which was rare. I always heard yelling and doors slamming from that house.

I didn?t want to go to this therapy group, it was summer! But I had to, luckily it was only for an hour in the afternoon. I arrived at the building, coming on time for my therapy group.

The instructor came to greet us, as we all sat down in a circle. ?Hey guys, I'm Ms. Theresa!? she said, and signed with her hands, ?Welcome to your new group for the summer! I hope we can bond, together as a strong family. Here, we can talk

to each other, and understand the struggles in our lives, don't be afraid share or come speak to me in private it you have any questions! Please remember, our disabilities don't have to be our disadvantages if we can learn to love them as part of who we are. I hope by the end of summer you can all feel changed inside.? She said encouragingly.

We sat down in a circle, on our cheap plastic chairs that moaned and groaned, like an old hinge on a gate. They were black and once you sat on them, it felt like they would snap. I took a good look at the room we were in. It was empty, besides the chairs that were arranged in a circle, and the walls were painted grey, and small cracks at the bottom. The floor was an old cheap carpet that was navy blue with small red and yellow thread, which smelled like the air from a vacuum. There were small, cool grey dust clumps that bunched around the corners of the floor. The ceiling was white, the only non-depressing color in the room, besides the bright yellow light.

The ceiling had an four dips in it, where in each, had a bright light bulb. I sat under one of these lights, and it was blinding. I looked around at the people sitting in the chairs. I saw a girl who I used to go to school with, named Joy, and we were best friends. We'd hang out all summer until the street lights turned on. I remember that she also moved away due to some family reasons and it made me miss her. I quickly became sad. She held a symbol cane and had glasses in her lap.

I think the reason she left was because of her loss of sight. She was very quiet and kept to herself, which was the reason I liked her, no drama. I saw her talking to a girl, worriedly. Her hair was dark coiled springs and she had warm skin, who also appeared to have lost her vision. Our group leader decided it was time for us to get to know each other, if we were to be ?a close a family.?

quickly putting in her earphones again. ?That was very nice of you to share, Nancy! I understand what you mean by that, and I'm glad you've found a way to embrace it. Who's next?? She said.

Joy moved her soft, glowing golden hair that hid her small pale face, to the side, and put down her blue jean jacket.

Her black pants blended in with the chairs, as she pushed her golden strands behind her ears. She placed her small pale hand on the side of her chair, reaching for her symbol cane. She took off her glasses, and I saw her eyes. They were completely blue, and she appeared to still have a visible pupil. They were brighter than the bland sky outside.

She slowly got up, off of her chair, and introduced herself, a bit quietly. ?Hi guys. I'm Joy, and I can't see out of my left eye. I have a third of the vision in my right eye left, and by the end of the next two weeks, I won't be able to see at all anymore.? She said, sadly looking down, as she pulled another strand of hair behind her ear. ?I can barely see a person, if it's in broad daylight, on a sunny day. Other wise, it's just blurred darkness. I've dealt with this for about six months, and I'm still learning how to adapt to this. I don't know what I did to deserve it though.? She said, lowering her voice into a disappointed murmur. ?Oh Joy, please don't think of it as something that happened to you as a punishment. Maybe this is a message from God, or the universe, trying to show you another way experience things. Don't let it get you down, because you're stronger than that.? Our group leader said, deeply trying to help Joy understand. ?If you need to talk to me, you can meet after this.? She said, ?It's ok, I think I'm fine now, don't worry about me.? She smiled, pulling her hair behind her ear.

?Ok guys, let?s settle down, we?re gonna go around in a circle, and just sign or say your name and one fact about you. Ok? let's see who's first.?

?Don't forget my door is always open for all of you if any of you need to talk. Joy, do you want to choose someone to go next?? She asked.

The girl who was talking to Joy stood up, ?I?ll volunteer.?

?Um,? she said, looking around the room, until her eyes wandered to see me. I couldn't tell if she saw me and recognized me, or if she was trying her hardest to see. She smiled at me. I didn't know what to do, I couldn't speak, so I smiled back. ?Tyler?? She said quietly, tucking her hair behind her ears. She smiled and waited for me talk.

?Yes, we have a volunteer, are you Nancy Peterson?? She asked, looking through her plastic red attendance board. ?That's me.? She replied.

Nancy moved her broad shoulders to reach for her white symbol cane. Her long and pointy poinsettia red nails scratched the cane, and as grabbed it. Her jeans, ripped and black, almost snagged onto the chair, as she stood up, taking out her earphones. ?Hey. I'm Nancy. I am partially blind, and by the end of the next few months, I'll no longer have any of my sight. Right now I can see ok, it's just really blurry. It's ok though, because there are some sights and people in the world I'm glad I don't have to see.? She said, smiling smugly, then

Cr i m son I n k | p age 151

I began communicating through sign language with my hands. Immediately I saw an expression of sadness appear on her small, rose face. She couldn't understand sign language. A feeling of melancholy sprouted in the pit of my stomach, feeling guilty. Our group leader quickly began translating what I said.

I began explaining that I was mute, and I couldn't speak, but I could understand. I just won't be able to reply in a way you'd understand.

?Tyler, I really understand that. You feel as if it's a disadvantage and it's the reason you miss out on things and don't experience life like others. It's ok because we're all here to support each other and learn to adapt, because many of you are young and still trying to figure things out.?

She said. ?It's just that I need to get used to this, even though it's happening at an important time in my life.? I said. ?Yes, that is true, and you've come a long way. Ok guys that's it for today,? she said, looking at her watch, ?I'll see you guys next week again. Oh wait, can Tyler, Joy, and Nancy stay behind for a minute?? She asked as we stayed. ?I know you guys have shared some of your story today, so do you think you can try help or encourage the other teens in this group? I want everyone to feel like they're welcomed.? She asked. ?Definitely, you can count on us.? Nancy said. ?Thanks guys, I'll see you next week!? She said, and left.

I checked my phone to see how long my mom had to wait, and luckily she was late, so she didn't have to. Outside, I stood in the parking lot I heard the tapping of something on the floor. I turned around to see Nancy and Joy talking.

Suddenly I heard yelling, and I walked over there, in case anything serious happened. I rushed over to see Nancy yelling at Joy. ?You know what? It's all your fault, and I don't wanna see you again! I deserved it, not you! You look gross and are a lonely freak!? Nancy yelled. ?Nancy, I'm sorry, but I didn't? ? Joy said, brushing her hair behind her ear. ?I'm leaving now, Joy.? Nancy said, firmly. ?Nancy wait, I? ? Joy tried to say, but Nancy had already gone.

I began walking over to talk to Joy, to see if she was ok, but stopped, remembering I couldn't even speak in a language she could understand.

Ding! I looked at my phone and my mom was here. I got into the car, instead of staying in the rusty parking lot on the cracked pavement. I greeted my mom, and she told me we had to stay in the car for a bit because she had to make a phone call. I went back inside to get my jacket, but before I went, I saw Joy leaving, and walking over to a woman. She was old, with wrinkles that sagged down to shoulders. Her hair was a bleached blonde bob, above the shoulder. She wore clothes that looked old and haven't been changed in weeks. In her hand clutched a clear brown half-empty bottle, with a worn out wrapper on the front. ?Where have you been Joy? I've been waiting for ten minutes! Get in the freaking car, now! Just because you're dumb enough to get blind doesn't mean you need to waste

my time too. I'm your foster mother, treat me like you would a friend, not some slave! Don't you know I have things to do? Then I have to get back to that darn house with Fred. There's only one reason why you're here? !? She said, aggressively, stopping before she said anything worse. ?I'm sorry Anne, I won't do it again.? She apologized.

Joy dragged herself over to the car, her shoulders pulling her down. Her hair hid her face, as she looked down at the cracked pavement. She reached the old, dark burgundy, rust car, and pulled open the door. From the building, I saw Anne continuing to yell and scold at her. Joy tried to look out the window to avoid crying, and saw me. I had been caught not-minding my own business, flustered, I looked away, trying to seem like I was looking for my car. She turned the other way, wiping the tears that began to fall down her innocent face.

Once I got home, I saw Joy go into the house across from my house. What was she doing? Did she want to die? It wasn't until I saw Anne follow her inside, that this was Joy?s house. The house was rusted and colored a crumbly tan, and looked like a decomposing animal. My mom called me downstairs to eat dinner.

Dinner was microwaved frozen food. I sat down at the table, and dug my plastic fork into the liquid macaroni and its neon yellow sauce. I went back upstairs, and it was really late at night. I opened the door to my plain white room, and hopped onto my mattress. I was laying in bed until I began to hear a commotion coming from a neighbor outside. I looked out of my white window, and saw Joy, who was pushed out of the stained wooden door, and slam shut, shaking the entire house. From the window on the side, I heard Anne say, ?And don't even think about coming back, you ugly bat!?

She said, stumbling, while holding an empty, larger clear bottle, with dark liquid inside. ?I don't need to stay here! Why are you doing this to me?

Why are you keeping me? Just send me back! Are you only using me for the money?? Joy yelled back. This was the first time I'd ever heard her yell, not once did I ever hear her voice raise like that. ?You know what? I'll tell you exactly what we did. We went in that place, and grabbed the ugliest, troubled one, because guess what? Most income. You know what Frank even said? He said you looked like an? well, I shouldn't say now, should I? It?s not like we chose you because we thought you were cute or actually cared or some bull like that.? She said, not afraid to say every hurtful word. ?Because you could pay for anything yourself?? Joy said, grabbing strands of her hair and pushing it behind her ear, and instantly regretting her words. I saw the look of pure fear in her eyes.

Anne disappeared from the window. I saw the door yank open, and cause a horrible creak. Out came a man, whom I'd never seen before. He had patchy grey hair, and a rough, wrinkly face. The wrinkles surrounding his nose sank as deep as the lines on his forehead. His eyebrows were bushy and pointed. He wore a blotchy colored dark green jacket and his back was hunched. He held Anne back from doing anything. He put down a beer bottle and said, ?Come on, get up.? He said, surprisingly calm. I didn't know whether he'd heard them arguing before, of he'd just seen them now. ? You need to get back inside, or you'll have to stay out here.? He said. He chuckled in a low voice, and it sounded evil. He looked at her with anger, and a look, that I could not describe, in his eyes. He began walking towards her quickly. ?No!? She screamed, terrified, as he walked closer. She tried to backup and run, but tripped, and dropped her symbol cane. Her glasses fell off as she stumbled and fell. I saw the look in her eyes from my window, and they were filled with fear. Why was she so scared? He was just trying to help her, right?

Suddenly, he yelled, ?Get up now you stupid orphan! Or else you'll face your consequences! Get. Up. Now!? He got closer to her, and she tried to back away, struggling to get her cane, as she bumped into bottles next to the garbage can.

He stood there, looking at her, with a pathetic look on his face. He lunged at her, grabbing her arm tightly, like a lion attacking its prey. She emitted a scream that pierced through my blanket and made me shiver. A red mark began to appear around her forearm, and she began to struggle. I had enough. I went downstairs and told my mom to go outside, and I figured she would do something. She was in the middle of a call, but I took her phone, and closed it. She began to yell at me, but I took her by the hand and opened the door. When we got outside, no one was there. Not the man, not Joy, not Anne.

I passed out on my mattress and woke up shivering. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd seen. How could someone's life turn around so quick? And why is she with foster parents? What happened to her real goodhearted parents we both grew up with? The only sound I could hear was the rumbling of my blanket on my bed, from the sound of myself shivering. I remember when I was little, I would sit on a hill, or the highest point I could get and I'd just stare at the stars, waiting for one to twinkle and allow me to wish on it. We used to do this when we were best friends.

I looked out the window and saw the stars. They stood high above, away from the disasters, watching us, simply as if we were a reality show. But I couldn't stop staring at them. I looked over at that horrible house, and I saw an odd figure on the roof. At first I thought it was some kind of creature, or just a pile of more bottles. I saw Joy, who had managed to

Cr i m son I n k | p age 153

get onto the roof somehow, maybe they put her up there as a punishment. She was curled up in a ball, leaning against a pipe. She looked up, and tried to stare at what the lights in the sky were. She held her hands together, her palms clutched close tightly. I saw her purple lips moving, as the kept trying to see the stars. She was wishing. Perhaps wishing for her parents back. Perhaps wishing for a different home. Perhaps to be beautiful. Perhaps to be in another world. I saw Joy, and I saw a glimmer on her face when she turned around. She looked at my house, then my window. I couldn't tell if she could see me, but I saw her. But for the last time.

It was early in the morning and I woke up to sirens blaring outside of my house, like the whole world was evacuating. I looked out the window and saw and ambulance and police cars at Joy?s house. I went downstairs to see my mom talking to one of the police officers. She saw me, and came over to me, explaining what had happened. ?Sweetie,? she signed, her hands shaking, almost beginning to tear up, ?next door, there was a girl who lived there.

Remember Joy? The girl you used to be best friends with a while back? Her parents died in a car accident, and she was put in that hell house. She wasn't left unscathed though, she lost her sight. That couple was her foster parents. And now, she? ,? my mom began crying. ?She took her own life, Tyler.

Who would've known someone else lived there? If someone saw that she lived there, they should've done something.?

The moment I heard that something in me broke. I felt a weight pull down my shoulders, causing me to weaken. I went over to the table in the kitchen and sat down, before I collapsed, thinking, looking down. My mother kept telling me it was going to be ok, but I knew it wasn't, because nothing was going to bring her back. I didn't even remember what she said to me. All I kept thinking was that I had something to do with it. Maybe I should've told someone about her parents. Maybe people already knew? Maybe it wasn't my fault. But it was, wasn't it. Maybe I could've saved a life, but I didn't. Maybe if I had said something or if I could speak at all, things would be different.

She couldn't see herself in the mirror, or anything at all.

Beauty, was her. She couldn't see her foster parents, her abusers. Even though she was blind, she wasn't blind to what was wrong. I saw her for what she really was. But they didn't. They pulled her down with them, deep, in only a few years. She was beautiful. I just wish I could have told her through my own lips.

TheMonst er In My Own Closet Brooke Holoubek

You said you always value people, that you thought people should be treated equal, But when you looked at me you felt nothing, You made me feel like I was nothing.

No matter how hard I try I wasn?t good enough for you.

I tried and I tried hoping this would get better, But years went by and the pain just got bigger.

The second I finally got myself out, I felt like happiness was moving all about.

You made me feel like I wasn?t good enough.

Now you can?t hurt me never again,

The trend here is you talk a bunch of lies,

I hope I never ever see your face again.

Trying to put up a disguise.

I hope someone comes along and breaks your heart, Tearing and tearing and breaking it apart,

You think I don?t see it and at first I didn?t, But now I really really do see it.

Look under your pillow I left you the key, and there will never be a ?you and me?. You took my heart and tore it to pieces, Tearing and tearing I could feel the distance.

I was nothing but an object to you, not a person, a person like you.

All I did was give you my love and everything else I had, It wasn?t enough.

Then you feel what you put me through.

The years of pain and abuse and deception, Tears and lies all of the time, No love received and no love to be expected, Now I hope you see what it?s like in your own perspective.

Growing up I had a lot more time for things than I do now. Most of my days are now spent in the studio, my haven. It?s where I feel the safest from the world, it?s people, and all its problems. It?s where I don?t have to control myself anymore and I can pretend to be someone else for a while. Sometimes I r e y would get away, eventually. Go somewhere for the weekend, Dr a h but when Jax moved away that all stopped happening. I still nt a m remember. The somewhat long, tedious drive I don't care to recall much Sa about. Closing my eyes for what seemed like a moment, and then waking up in a beautiful oasis. The only other place I ever felt safe. I remember it. Inhaling the dry, morning, desert air while sitting on the porch sipping a cup of Armenian iced coffee. Then being fully submerged in ice cold lake water after having been pushed out of the boat by my brother. This time was going to be no different then the others.

r e b m e m e R I

The day he left was the most I had ever cried. It was like a terrifying dream that I would never be woken from. I was left reminiscing on everything we had done together. Like the time he taught me how to ride a bike and I crashed into a parked car, or when I was 9 and he let me drive down the highway on his lap singing along to country music. Because of him, I have had so many memorable experiences. I couldn?t bare to let that go for four years.

The thick, cold air around me sent empty words pounding to my ears. So when it came time for him to leave I couldn?t stand it. My mouth had been sewn shut so I couldn't utter a single word.

What could I have said? I suppose ?See you soon? or ?Have fun? would have justified. But those were only lies I couldn?t bring myself to tell the one person who didn?t bother me as much as the others.

The truth of the matter was I wasn?t going to see him anytime soon and I didn?t want him to have fun.

I had so many other things in my mind to say in that very moment, but no energy or drive to say it, and before I knew it he was gone.

I didn?t know how to feel. Those four years were the longest, most tedious of my life. I didn?t want him to come home just to say goodbye again. Every time it got harder and harder, yet closer and closer to when my brother, my best friend, wouldn?t have to leave me ever again.

He knew how I felt and he could have stayed closer if he wanted too. As I predicted, his permanent homecoming came quicker than I had anticipated, yet my mind was still conflicted. Anger, relief, joy, and an unbearable amount of happiness overtook me the moment he came home with his diploma. Happiness at the fact that it was over, and anger toward his decision to embark on such a memorable experience without me. I guess I got back at him by not going to his graduation, not because I didn?t want to, but because I had finals the following week and that was more important to me. He?s trying to make it up to me and I appreciate the effort. The familiar car ride brought distant memories to the front of my mind. My thoughts are too busy for me sleep and it seems as though I never stop thinking about nothing. The empty desert canvas was almost as blank as the space in my head. I sat comfortably in the front of his Volkswagen stick-shift that I had first learned to drive in, and I slowly began to think about Jax, about everything we had and hadn't been through together.

Having so much time now made me remember how much time I had then. Time to do things I loved.

The problem being that the only things I loved to do were with him. Watching movies on Friday Cr i m son I n k | p age 155

nights, riding dirt bikes, and playing absolutely pointless games were apart of our regular routine. The others were of lesser importance to me, he kept me grounded.

Dance was a hobby I had picked up and piano was something my mom signed me up for to keep me off the dirt tracks. Little did I know that these minuscule parts of my life then, would have such a meaningful impact on my life in the near future.

Medals and trophies meant almost nothing to me. No award or recognition could fill whatever huge gap was left in me from him not being there. I was always told that I would do great things. That I was talented beyond anyone?s belief, but I never saw it like that because I had never truly worked for any of it, it all just came naturally. The engraved words, ?Kar Johnson. First place,? sat on the shelves of my room staring at me, taunting me because I didn?t want any of it.

With Jax gone, my piano had become my best friend, and my point shoes at a close second.

These were apart of the few things that actually understood me. Soft waves grazing against my ear finally made me feel like I had a close friend in this lonely place. My fingertips only slightly grazing the tops of the keys, producing such a clean sound, making even me smile. Likewise with dance, each blister on my foot and each cramp in my calf was an indication that every drop of sweat and every tear thus far had been worth it. After all of it, junior national titles and a scholarship to Julliard meant almost nothing because Jax wasn?t there by my side.

One day toward the end of the school year I woke up and a blurry figure was standing by my bed mumbling the words, ?Good morning Kar.? naturally, thinking it was my dad, I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but when I heard him speak again I didn?t know whether to punch him or hug him. So I punched him in the stomach or waking me up early, then sat up got ready for school.

We had grown apart and that?s why we were going to do everything humanly possible to make up for the time we hadn?t spent together.

My last thought ended with a glimmering view in sight. My eyes peered through the tinted windows and thanked God for the amazing weekend I had planned ahead. I didn?t even bother to bring out my bags because as soon as I opened the car door I was greeted by a furry familiar face. He licked my face and showed me more affectation then any person I had ever remembered. The welcoming scent of Armenian coffee and French toast filled the dry air surrounding me while I was greeted by the two friendly faces of Mr. and Mrs. McGee sitting on the front porch. Then I rushed in, not bothering greeting my brothers college friends on the couch. Before going to my old room, I grabbed a mug of coffee from the kitchen, then headed upstairs. These old hallways held so many cherished things. Tears welled up in my eyes at my past memories. I finally felt reunited with something that I had lost a long time ago. Something that wasn?t purposely taken away from me, but hurt like a gun wound when I realized. I stood there for what seemed like two days because I didn?t know what would be behind the door and whether it would be perfectly in tact or not. Courage surged through me and I fell to my knees in tears of a long awaited reunion.

At the sound of my name, I walked downstairs and began to help prepare lunch. There I was introduced to some new faces that I would probably forget in a little over an hour. Once lunch was ready, we all sat at the table and had a seemingly never ending conversation about my least favorite topic, myself. ?Are you looking forward to attending Julliard? Are you competing at nationals this year? Why haven?t you come back to visit even though Jax was gone?? All questions I didn?t bother to answer from people that I didn?t care much about.

Outside, the shimmering lake water was screaming ( personification) at Jax and I, and as soon we gave each other the look, it was game over, sorry neighbors. We raced to the boat and ripped t hrough the previously calm water with the engine roaring so loud my ear drums almost exploded.

Several men overboard and Jax having to swim with the dog back to the dock indicated that our time on the water had to come to an end.

Dinner came around and the adults began to party when everybody, minus myself, had finally realized that it was the Fourth of July. The deck outside had been covered in an abundant amount of hamburgers, Coke?s, and sparklers while everybody walked around with red, white, and blue stripes painted on their faces. We had managed to sneak out during all the madness and drive to a nearby dirt bike track, we meaning Jax and I. We hauled all the bikes and waited for everyone to come on by for the tradition everybody took part in.

I couldn?t even remember the last time I had ridden. I had completely forgotten how happy and how at peace I felt when I was on the tracks. A similar feeling I had gradually gained from music and dancing. Before I knew it, I was in third gear, hitting jumps that I had never hit before and keeping up with everybody as if nothing had happened and I was still the innocent thirteen year old I was when I had last ridden. Now, four years later I was still the same person. The same girl who had ambitions and desires to make something of herself. I was the same girl who liked interacting with people and doing crazy things, solely for the purpose of having fun. I remembered how I had felt when I hit my first jump and when I had finally felt accepted by my brothers cool friends. I remembered. We all took a break for a while and decided to shove our faces with more food. It seemed as if the more food I had consumed, then more connected I felt to everyone around me. We all shared a special connection to this place that had brought us all together originally.

One last run, the sun was set and we all decided to do one last run on the track before cleaning up returning to the house. It was my turn. Sharp turns then the jump. From the start I guess you could say it felt off. But then I lifted from the wrong angle, drifted, then fell from twenty feet in the air onto a dirt mound, and I couldn?t remember much after that. Pain definitely wasn?t what I was feeling and I can?t distinguish whether I was screaming or simply waiting either. I laid there forever, it got foggy, then black.

Red flashing lights were basically all I could distinguish.

I couldn?t feel anything but I heard the constant reminder in the back of my head of my overprotective parents saying, ?Be careful, don?t do anything your going to regret.? Those words replayed constantly in my disoriented mind while randomly the blur would fade in and out. I had never seen Jax cry before until Cr i m son I n k | p age 157

now and it wasn?t something that made me feel good.

As I slowly came to, the excruciating pain quickly became apparent that I couldn?t move. I didn?t even know what was wrong with me yet. I sat still in that hospital bed wondering how something so terrible could happen to someone who had always followed the rules and done what they were supposed to. Then my thoughts were quickly interrupted by a young nurse walking in and explaining everything that had happened. ?I?m sorry to tell you sweetheart but you took a pretty hard fall. You?ve completely shattered your left forearm and bottom left rib. Along with that you have a severe concussion with a minor case of whip lash.? I couldn?t really pay attention to what she had said because of the overly bright lights shining in my face. Everything that happened next was so quick it all kind of jumbled together. She went on to say, ?Miss. Johnson we now are going to prep you to go into surgery.? The anesthetic shot worked quickly and soon enough my world went black.

My arm and side were taped in a substance that seemed similar to bubble wrap that I had noticed after the pop (onomatopoeia) it gave off and my head began to throb as the anesthesia began to subside. The first face I met was Jax?s. We intensely stared at each other for what seemed like an entire lifetime until he finally broke down in tears standing next to me and hugging me so tight that I almost began to feel my other rib collapse. He proceeded to tell me all this meaningless stuff about how he thought he had lost me and he was so sorry for letting this happen to me. I did anything a great sister would do and laughed in his face telling him, ? Don?t be so sentimental. I?m not dead yet am I?? He replied, ? Jeez, sorry for caring,? then punched my arm which only proceeded to enhanced the already excruciating pain in my body. I didn?t even want to face my parents because I already knew what was going to happen.

They both just stood outside of the room staring at me, crying. As if mentally telling me that I was more of a disappointment than I already felt like. Eventually they came in and gave me the tedious, never ending, unnecessary, sob story lecture ( asyndeton ) about how I could have died and it had been several hours since the surgery and I began to feel really concerned about the fact that I couldn?t feel anything in my arm, but the nurses brushed it off as the anesthetic not being completely worn off yet because I was technically on the shorter side and I was given a considerably large dose. Yea right, ? You will be able to feel it again soon don?t worry hun.?

Physical Therapy didn?t help. Nothing was helping. The nerves in my wrist were severed.

Hoping wasn?t enough. Praying wasn?t enough. I remember, Apart of me was taken away by none other then myself, and I couldn?t get it back. I remember when I couldn?t help myself. ?Oh don?t worry, over time the feeling will slowly begin to come back.? I remember ( repetition ), it?s been three years and I still haven?t gained the time back from when the only thing I had to talk to was mute sheet music seeking its companion.

"Retro Perspective" by Blake Portillo Cr i m son I n k | p age 159

Th ough t s Mackenzie Fernandez

As i sit here on one of my most lonely days I can feel the youth seep out of my body I can feel the skin on my face crumble up and fall off Only to reveal my true age I feel as if I?ve been alive for millions of years I constantly have to question if I am a reincarnation or if I?ve been here since the world were created Time seems to go by so fast My age seems to be way older then I?m told Maybe we are all the same people but with different faces Maybe we just don?t recall our past memories And since we don?t we make new lives off of the new society Therefore saying we are new life I don?t have many beliefs But I believe this When I look into the mirror I find myself shocked every time As if I were somehow expecting to see a different face look back

Vo t e Yes o n Pr o p: Lo ve Peyton Kassouf

I don't understand why we are so cruel Constant blame and scapegoats put on others To some, hate's a passion, spite is the fuel Why can't we love? Fly in soaring color Negative pressure from the media Little girls across the world, do not eat Trying to fit in, with bulimia We need to bring these girls back on their feet Empower others, do not break them down We are the key to our world's happiness Let's work on turning right around those frowns We don't have to love others any less So should we come together? I vote yes.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 161

Lo ve Yo ur self Christopher Sillas

Let the negative people in your life go Often people will judge you even if you are charming, intelligent, and talented Very often they will judge you for your appearance Even if they don't know the kind of person you are You?re always going to be looked down upon from certain people Only care for the people that care about you Usually you're looked at negatively for being different Really focus on being the best you So if someone doesn't like you for you End that friendship like you end the school year at the start of the summer Let no one change who you are For there is no better you than you As you get older So many people will just leave you Your best friends can turn on you Only you will be ready if they do Use this to remind you Growing as a person Requires you to love yourself One things for sure Whisper to yourself that what matters most is what you think of yourself

Cr i m son I n k | p age 163

"Beastie Boys" by Olivia Cabo

"Untitled" by Danielle Miranda

Cr i m son I n k | p age 165

"Serenity" by Nghia Dao

"Buddy Maui" by Karina Marconi

Cr i m son I n k | p age 167

"Catalina" by Micheal Woodward

"Discover " by Linlin Chen

W e P ol y m at h s W i l l

We painted and sang and wrote and tested and loved how they stood from the grey.

Now our legacies are being undone.

We polymaths refuse to see our legacies fly away.

We wait for the ones who will fight on, so to say.

And we'll be the ones having the fun.

We polymaths will have our day.

There's a reason why our creations stay.

It's so that society remembers who are the inspired, creative, prolific, ingenious ones.

We polymaths refuse to see our legacies fly away.

We polymaths will have our day.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 169

H av e O ur D ay Chris Munar

We polymaths refuse to see our legacies fly away.

There once was a time when people had hundreds of goals, not one.

We polymaths will have our day.

In anticipation, we waited, in the tombs where we lay.

The Mona Lisa and Jupiter 's moons, have you any clue, the things we've done?

We polymaths refuse to see our legacies fly away.

There once was a time our knowledge and talents made others follow our way.

Our masterpieces, inventions, words, they danced in the sun.

We polymaths will have our day.

M use Victoria DePasquale

You are my muse My source of inspiration, For it?s in your smile that I find mine, The laughter that I cannot hear but can see warms my heart, It grips my soul with such intensity I want to trap it inside a box and keep it forever, Because God knows what I?d do without the sun in my life, even if just for a minute long.

Cr i m son I n k | p age 171

"FOR THE BOYS" by Kara Steinmetz

"Think Different" by Brenda Rodriguez

Cr i m son I n k | p age 173

"Untitled" by Megan Ettinger

it t ak es t im e Anika Stiftl It takes time To understand how to read Between the lines

It takes time To filter through all the lies They told you as child

It takes time To realize the action you make Affect other peoples lives

It takes time To see the world in all its wrong It tries to hide

And it takes time To surpass the those who have fallen in before And chose the light

It takes time To grow up right

Cr i m son I n k | p age 175

who i 'm m eant t o be Leilani Alvarado I can paint a picture of a perfect life But to tell the truth, it just doesn't exist My mistakes pay the price Leading me to guilt And leading me to who I'm meant to be And life keeps changing And my mistakes become faded memories That change my life forever But these memories don't define me

This picture of my life is the strangest thing Scribbled with mistakes And scribbled with imperfections But also scribbled with happiness This picture of my life isn't perfect, But I don't want it to be

I live and learn My mistakes and choices lead me to knowing myself They guide me to my self-discovery

Say goodbye to a perfect life Because there is no such thing

This is who I'm meant to be

Ed i t o r 's n o t e T h i s m agazi n e i s a col l ecti on of th e cr eati ve w r i ti n g an d ar tw or k m ad e by th e stu d en ts at M ater D ei H i gh Sch ool i n San ta A n a, Cal i f or n i a. Som e ed i ts to con ten t m ay h ave been m ad e f or br ev i ty an d / or d esi gn p u r p oses.

D esi gn st af f L i ly Av i gd or Sop h i a Car r L au r en Cr u i se Ken d al l D ew ey O w en En gel m an Joan n a Est r ad a A i n sl ee L eh n er M ar i a L u n a L i zzi e M ackow i ak A n t h on y M ar kos Ch ar l i e M ay Cassi d y M ey er D an n y N gu y en Jasm i n e N gu y en O l i v i a Ran gel K i m Rom er o O l i v i a San ch ez L au r en Sch aef f er H ay l ey Skon i eczn y A m y V i er s Z on gx u an Yu A d v i ser M r s. A l ex a Su ei r as

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