Signatures 2025

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Cover 40th Edition

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SignATuRes

2025

4oth Edition Marquette University High School • 3401 West Wisconsin Avenue • Milwaukee, WI 53208 (414) 933-7220 • www.muhs.edu signatures@muhs.edu

Table of Contents The Trail of Beauty

6

Phillip Rinzel '28

Coup d'oe il Rapide

7

Luke Sanchez '26

The Desert of Glass

8-9

Kolbe Jensen '28

The Heart that Never Held

8-9

Beau Baltz '26

Dress Down

10

Jayden Costello '25

Bradford Beach

11

Simon Richheimer '26

What Once Was Beauty

12

~ Charles Pinon '28

Pity on Me

13

Alonzo Saavedra '26

~ Las colinas de Espana

14-15

Edward Mooney '25

The Thrilling Mountain

15

Gosha Roginsky '28

Backroad

16

Luke Sanchez '26

The Night

17

Henry Collins '28

Bearly Escaped

18

Collin Leh '28

Cheese

19

Jayden Costello '25

Rain after Drought

20-21

Jesus Herrera Briones '28

The Third Catastrophe

22

Jordan Lutfiyya '25

A Treachorous Cycle

23

Anonymous

A Battle of Wits

24-25

Will Kummer '28

Origami Stellated Truncated Dodecahedron Lamp

26-27

Paul Anggara '27

Sea Urchins

27

Michael Skibicki '28

Fishing

28

Andrew Culligan '28

Parrothead

29

Raffa La Macchia '27

Buffalo

30-31

Mitchell Nigro '25

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Signatures ‘25

Gavin Steele '26 "Ship" (Pencil Drawing) Forest Stream

32-33

Nicolas Volkert '25

The Quiet Forest

33

Jayden Pryzbilla '28

Vermont through the Seasons

34

Mitchell Bay '28

Explosion

35

Andrew Pentler '26

Niagara Falls Photography

36-37

Daniel Reis '28

The Paradox

37

Steven DeVougas '27

An Eggcellent Adventure

38-40

Rowan Waltenberger '28

Fur Pants

41

Dawson Meuller '25

Encounter

42-43

Declan Manning '25

Nostalgia

42

Abhiveer Kalirawana '28

Toska

44-45

Gabe Stillmank '25

Rapture

44-45

Alonzo Saavedra '26

Miniature No. 10

46-47

Ethan Brown '25

Crushing on a Girl

48-50

Jackson Czukas '25

Taking Flight

51

Oliver Kloss '28

Defending Jesus

52

Dawson Meuller '25

Found

53

Alex Daczko '26

Flickers of Guilt

54-55

Nicholas Woelfel '28

Creation

55

Nico Ertl '25

The Penultimate Revelation of the False Prophet

56-57

Mikail Schlegel '25

Voyage through 24th Street

58-59

Lucas Schwarz '28

Innovation

60

Will Mukana '26

Pulled Apart

61

Trevor Waltersdorf '25

40th Edition

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The Trail of Beauty The journey starts just as a simple stroll With much to see and yet to discover Now all you see is far beyond control At times blessings hide, but soon recover.

The sounds of life persist, then you will hear The gentle whispers of the distant birds Animals and children wander near In silence broken by the rustling words.

The path ahead twists gently in the breeze, With footprints left in earth’s soft, gentle trace At certain times, life brings you to your knees Yet, in its beauty, there’s an endless grace.

The sun's deep colors fade beneath the trees And in their shade, I find my heart at ease.

-Phillip Rinzel '28

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Signatures ‘25

Luke Sanchez '26 "Coup d'oeil Rapide" (Photography) 40th Edition

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The Desert of Glass

I am alone. Everyone I loved up to this point has vanished out of existence. I’ve been stranded for three days on this merciless rock, knowing there’s no going back. My ship’s water supply has run dry, and I have little doubt this desert of a planet is lacking the one thing I need. I give one last shout, hoping with all my heart that some God-sent creature will appear with a cup of heavenly water and a way out of this prison. I feel like a newborn, searching for any trace of myself, but my mind fails me, empty from lack of refreshment. Sometimes, a memory of being in a white room streaks through my mind, but the memory vanishes before I can grasp it, like sand slipping through my fingers.

I’ve read books about Mars, but none mentioned how to survive with nothing but a few cans of dried tuna and a moon-gray battered space suit.

I start walking in one direction, hoping I’ll see something other than the same shades of orange which happen to be the only colors existing on this uninhabitable planet. I stop at the edge of a cliff and gaze over my barren prison in search of any source of life. The sea of sand stretches so far out, it seems to be hugging the base of the early morning sky. The crimson sun bled across the horizon, turning it into a display of oranges and reds. I glance down at the ground beneath my boots. The cracked, uneven surface of the planet resembles shattered glass, like a windshield broken into millions of pieces.

I start the trek back to my space wreck, my mouth feeling an unquenchable thirst. I squint at my reflection in the helmet’s visor, and for an instant, I see something unusual - cuts and shards of glass begin to form on my face. The vision is gone as quickly as it came, but my pulse quickens. No more than five minutes in, I get the sixth sense that I am not alone, the eerie sound of nothingness screaming in my ears. I whirl my head around spotting an ink-black silhouette with a curved hood looming in the distance around twenty paces away. I flail my arms as if to run, but my stiff legs will not budge. I look down to realize my tattered boots have been strapped to the earth as if by magic.

“Stay back!” I shriek helplessly as the colorless form grows nearer to me.

The creature seems to be holding a curved scythe as black as the hood concealing him. My heart starts pounding a thousand beats a second. I tug at the straps with immense force, but the binds will not budge.

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"The Heart That Never Held" (Photography) - Beau Baltz '26 Signatures ‘25

“Your time has come,” murmurs the shadow with a soothing tone, advancing his weapon nearer to me.

I give one final pull, mustering all the strength my feeble body has to offer, and within an instant, the straps come loose. I bolt away from the creature with unusual speed only to be snatched a few seconds later by a strong grip. I struggle against its strength, but my weak and tired body is no match. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierces my head.

“Ahhhhh!” I give a blood curdling cry as my body starts to go numb.

My whole world starts to dance in circles as I fight with every ounce of my being to keep myself from blacking out.

“Freddy!...Freddy! We’re losing you! Stay with me Freddy!” Am I delusional? The voice seems to echo from the depths of my own mind. I’m not thinking straight anymore, a dark blanket of death starts to draw over my eyes.

“Freddy! Come on Freddy! Can I get some help here!” All life is being drained from my body, the feeling of death taking control of me …

“One…Two…Three…Clear!” At this moment a jolt of electricity shoots through my veins. A new breath of life weaves its way back through my entire being. …

“Freddy… Freddy Wickerson, can you hear me,” I blink, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the world is no longer orange.

I’m in a plain white room, the one I had flashbacks of, lying in a hospital bed. A TV in the corner is playing a National Geographic episode about life on Mars, and a cracked open window is allowing a crisp autumn breeze to escape into the room.

“He’s awake!” calls a voice outside of my line of vision. I turn my aching head to see a six-foot middle-aged man with a neat trimmed beard and square glasses.

“You, Freddy, are one lucky person. We thought we lost you for good there. I’m Doctor Gibson, but you can call me Matt.”

“Where am I,” I ask, still not sure what completely happened.

“You and your mom got T-boned in the passenger side of your car. A miracle you didn’t die on the spot. You’ve been in a coma for four days, and your heart stopped beating for a couple of minutes, death really wanted a chance at you.” He replies with a chuckle.

“It sure did,” I murmur. As I gaze out the window, I swear I see streaks of Martian orange dotting the sky.

40th Edition

- Kolbe Jensen '28

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Jayden Costello '25 "Dress Down" (Apparel)

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Signatures ‘25

Bradford Beach The out-of-season snow tires struggle to grip the winding road. The tires’ treads continually collect debris and dirt, only to catapult them back onto the cracked concrete. The sun's blazing heat scorches the rubber, allowing it to grip the rough pavement more effectively. Encased by the tires, the dirty, brake-dust-covered, black-painted, five-spoke rims complement the charcoal-grey exterior of the vehicle.

Inside the roofless car, my exhausted body testifies to the sun’s heat.

The steering wheel and black leather seats bake in the sun’s warmth; my legs roast from the intense heat of the boiling seat. The cracked black leather upholstery signifies its past battles against the sun’s ultraviolet rays.

As the car creeps toward the bustling beach, varying occupants fill the sand, all distinguished by their divergent appearances, voices, movements, and behavior. Some play volleyball on the beach, screaming and diving for the bump to save possession of the sandy ball; others take advantage of the sun’s UV to tan their skin or yell enthusiastically as they charge into the dark, choppy water.

As I glance to my left, past the sandy beach, rough waves emerge from the enormous blue body of water, falling into each other, creating white caps. The warm weather yields a deep-blue-tinted lake, signaling the refreshing coolness of the water.

The Jeep’s open top and windows allow a soothing breeze to combat the sun’s tremendous heat. As I clasp the piping-hot steering wheel, the tops of my hands feel the wind off the lake. Continuing to cruise down Lincoln Memorial Drive, I hear the roar of a parade of motorcycles as they rev their engines. The bikers’ masterpieces of mechanical machinery zoom past me, each rider increasing the throttle, allowing their engine’s crankshafts to push thousands of rotations per minute.

As I approach the end of Bradford Beach near Moosa’s, the screams soften into hums, bright green-leafed trees obstruct my view of the dark blue lake, and the illuminated cherry-red stoplight nears as I leave the beach’s raucous liveliness behind.

- Simon Richheimer '26 40th Edition

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What Once was Beauty The overwhelming beauty of the seas The utter brilliance of the small fruit flies Accentuated by the flowing trees The birds can all be seen up in the skies.

Surrounded by the wonders all around I saw the creatures joined in harmony.

From a distance all I heard was a great sound.

It was the sound of men destroying trees.

The humans now have made their presence known.

Their own success through nature they have bought.

Their utter selfish nature they have shown.

Control of all God’s makings they have sought.

~

What once was peace in awesome seas and skies Has turned to nature’s ever pleading cries.

~ - Charles Pinon '28

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Signatures ‘25

Alonzo Saavedra '26 "Pity on Me" (Pen Drawing) 40thEdition Edition 40th

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Edward Mooney '25 ~ "Las colinas de Espana" (Photography) 14

Signatures ‘25

The Thrilling Mountain I shot down the slope as quick as a blur The mountain behind was kicking up powder This is the life that I chose and prefer The whipping winds whistled louder and louder The thrill in my veins made my heart go faster As I carved through the snow, a fearless master

- Gosha Roginsky '28

40th Edition

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Luke Sanchez '26 "Backroad" (Photography)

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Signatures ‘25

The Night

At dusk, it shines, for one and all to see, for it to rise among the nightly sky.

They, together, looked at the sky with glee, Then, he, with the dotted fat black bow-tie, Saw the intriguing, gleaming beams of light, Which were bright, but were full of energy To which he said, “such an amazing sight.”

Those fantastic lights, which, with tendency, Would appear everyday, when it was dark, Some would stay, some would disappear, And would go around the world, in an arc, But in the end, it always creeps, quite near, Always interested, always listening, It would never leave; always glistening.

- Henry C. '28

40th Edition

17

Bearly Escaped

I was trudging so slowly, heavy as a stone The trail rough and hard beneath my feet.

I looked up and saw I wasn't alone, A bear looking for a fresh piece of meat.

So tired, I knew I could not get away I just need to stay still and pray I was prowling the forest, hungry as a beast The critters hidden in places not on my mind.

I think I'm ready for a feast But all I see is a man, not a prey of any kind.

The man saw me, a brown kodiak bear I think I just gave him a mighty scare.

- Collin Leh '28

18

Signatures ‘25

Jayden Costello '25 "Cheese" (Pen Drawing)

40th Edition

19

Rain After Drought Seeing her was like being the first human to witness the sunset. She had golden hoop earrings, baggy baby blue jeans, converse, and a beautiful red top. It was late autumn, so the nice and breezy weather paired perfectly with meeting a new person. The yellow and orange crunchy leaves falling from the sky contrasted nicely with all of her colors. I met her at a friend’s quinceañera practice, and I was never good with meeting new people. But starting school beforehand kind of helped me with that new-people awkwardness. I was already feeling pretty awkward, being at someone else’s house for the first time, and yet she approached me. “You know how to dance?”

“Um, not really. I’ve been to 2 other quinces and that's it.”

“Don’t worry. Look, hold my hand.”

I stood there like an idiot, shaking my head because I was too nervous. This girl I had just met wanted to hold my hand and show me how to dance. You can imagine the thoughts that were racing through my head as a teenage boy who spent the entire summer alone. I don’t even know her name. Why am I thinking about spending the rest of my life with this girl who I’ve just met? Does she have a boyfriend? If she does, that's saying a lot about you bro. She started to laugh.

“Why won’t you dance with me?”

“Dude ‘cause I don’t know how to.”

“That's why I can show you!”

I could tell she was getting impatient with me, but I told myself to man up. I grabbed her hand and she tried to teach me. I don’t remember anything except the soft touch of her hands. It was like my hands had always been cold, and her touch was the only warmth I had ever known.

The sound of her voice was the only reason I was paying attention to what she said. It was the best music I had ever listened to. I still didn’t know this girl's name and she was giving me these weird feelings I never would've thought were real.

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Signatures ‘25

When practice was over, I was waiting for my mom to come and pick me up.

“Look bro I actually hate how some dudes act,” She said.

She is talking to someone. Wow. “Yeah dudes be immature like that. I don’t even know why dudes treat dating like it's nothing.”

I felt so humiliated. I’m delusional for this girl and she's talking to someone else. Why does this always happen to me?

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow, “Do you have an Instagram?

You seem pretty chill. I want us to stay in contact.”

“Uhh yeah I gotchu I want us to stay in contact too.”

“Okay bet.”

I went back home feeling defeated. I look at my phone and see a notification from Instagram. they._.love._.abi started following you.

Abi. Her name is Abi.

- Jesus Herrera Briones '28

40th Edition

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Jordan Lutfiyya '25 "The Third Catastrophe" (Ceramic Sculpture)

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Signatures ‘25

A Treacherous Cycle There is no lesser time than when you won’t speak with me I often haven’t the faintest what it is I’ve done “Please just let me explain” is my only prithee A hole deep in my gut, my mind left in stun Eventually, I know, I will be pardoned And when that day comes, I will shower you in praise My stress is relieved and my heart unhardened And our unbreakable bond reignites to its former blaze Argument behind us, we can get back in the groove Grinning at one another every now and then Then just as I thought things couldn’t ever improve I say something stupid and screw things up again

- Anonymous

40th Edition

23

A Battle of Wits Gracie and Earl’s backyard was always alive with movement.

Squirrels chased one another in spirals up tree trunks, while chipmunks darted through the grass like streaks of lightning. But I had no time for their games.

This was a battleground and I was at war. At the heart of the old couple’s yard hung the bird feeder, my ultimate prize. It was always within their sights, always the focus of their attention. No matter how many times they moved or adjusted it, I always found a way to reach it. Each day marked the beginning of a new battle and I always emerged victorious.

It was just another day. Earl lumbered out to adjust the feeder as Gracie sat on the porch, arms crossed, sipping her coffee.

“Earl, that squirrel made a fool outta you yesterday. You really think today’s gonna be different?”

“I know what I’m doin’ Gracie,” Earl grumbled, tightening a bolt on the feeder. “This time it’s foolproof. No way that little thief is gettin’ up here.”

“Uh-huh. Keep tellin’ yourself that” Gracie muttered.

Earl stepped back, puffing out his chest with smug satisfaction. That was my cue. I ran, jumping from branch to branch, scouting out my attack. Earl’s new, so-called improvements were nothing new. He just wrapped the feeder pole in a wide, smooth PVC pipe. It was clever but not clever enough. My body coiled like a spring as I launched myself toward the feeder, the air rushing past me. My paws grasped the pipe and I slid straight down it with ease.

Suddenly, I heard Gracie shout, “Earl! That little rascal’s back again!”

The alarm sounded, and I had to move fast. I clung to the feeder and stuffed my face. Earl came running out with a broom, swinging it above his head, yelling.

“Oh no you don’t! Get off there!”

It was time to go. I leaped just as the broom whooshed past, landed on the tree, and scampered to safety. From my perch, I watched Earl glare up at me.

“I can’t believe he got away again,” Earl growled.

Gracie patted his arm. “Earl, you’re gonna have to do better than that.

You need a new strategy.”

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Signatures ‘25

The next day old Earl was at it again, but this time he had his toolbox with him.

“Whatcha doing now, Earl? You know you can’t stop that squirrel.”

Earl didn’t even look up. “This time it's different. That squirrel has no clue what he’s in for.”

I watched as he carefully attached two cones to the feeder, blocking my usual route. It was a clever idea to prevent me from getting to their precious bird feeder, but the wheels were turning in my head and I had a plan. Once Gracie and Earl went inside, I knew it was time for round two.

“Well, what do you think?” Earl said, stepping back to admire his work.

“I’m impressed Earl. This might just work.”

A smile spread across Earl’s face as Gracie reached over and patted his arm. “You’ve got this, Earl. He won’t get past this one.”

I scurried up the base of a tree and launched myself aiming for the middle section of the cage, avoiding the cones. With precision, I grabbed the bars and pulled myself up. Those cones weren’t enough to stop me.

But then, something unexpected happened. Gracie stepped off the porch, spray bottle in hand, and walked over to the feeder. She had been waiting for me. Before I could react, she aimed and squeezed the bottle. Yuck! I squirmed, my nose wrinkled at that awful smell. I bolted off the feeder and scrambled up a nearby tree. I had been outsmarted! They won for now but I would be back tomorrow. Meanwhile, Gracie and Earl stood together on the porch, laughing.

Earl wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into him, both sharing a quiet moment of victory.

“Well, we got ‘im this time,” Earl said chuckling.

Gracie smiled up at him. “Yeah we did. He’ll be back though.”

Earl nodded. “I’m sure of it. But it’s nice to win once in a while.”

Gracie looked out towards the bird feeder, her smile softening. “It's more fun when we’re in it together.”

Earl nodded, his arm still around her. They stood there enjoying the peaceful end to their day. As for me, I was already plotting my next move. This battle of wits wasn’t over, and all three of us knew it.

- Will Kummer '28 40th Edition

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Signatures ‘25

Sea Urchins I swam as well as a fish on dry land I had seen a sea urchin next to me My dad was stabbed by one which was not planned 3 years ago where I was in this sea He said those needles felt just like sharp pins Which made me hate those jerks, the sea urchins I floundered and splashed in the H2O I tried to swim away I tried to flee My fear of urchins didn’t make it so I wanted to leave this Hawaiian sea My mom dragged me back and she grabbed my hand And after a bit, I was back on land

- Michael Skibicki '28

Paul Anggara '27 "Origami Stellated Truncated Dodecahedron Lamp" (Origami) 40th Edition

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Fishing I walked out alone, the lake was empty Feeling the rough pattern under my feet Listening to the wind blow through the tree Seeing through the water where the fish would meet I was knowing, not even wishing That this was the perfect day for fishing.

The rod, the line, the worm, the reel, I cast out the bait and waited to feel The nibble and tug of a fish’s bite I waited until the time was just right To reel in the shiny, strong fish below The time is now! This is one I can’t let go.

I felt like I was reeling forever Until I lifted it out of the water Flipping and flopping, thinking it was clever Fighting to avoid its would-be slaughter Knowing this process was being drawn on I released the fish and it was gone.

- Andrew Culligan '28

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Signatures ‘25

Raffa La Macchia '27 "Parrothead" (Pen Drawing)

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40th Edition

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Miniature No. 10

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6

          3 3 3 3      

                                                              3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 cresc.                                   6 6 6 6 6 6                39                   3                  3 3 3 3 3 3 3 6 3 6                                6 6 6  6

36

30

6

6

6



3

 

 

                                                    3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3  appassionato                                         6





6

27

6



                                 3

6



3

3

3

3

3

(dim.)

3

3

3

3

3

3

                        21                                                                    3 3 3 3  3 3 3 3  3 3  3  3              



3

3

3

3

3

3

3

3



 

6



                    3 3 3  3sostenuto        

24

6

6

                               3    3 3 3 3 3 3 3                    6

6

6

6

ped. simile

4

 

     

42

 

 



         

 

6

6

3

3

3

3

3

3

                              3

3

3

3

3

                                        cresc.                            ped. simile 3

45

3

3

3

3

3

3

3

3

                                      3 3 3 3  3 3  3 3 3 3  (cresc.)    3 3                            3 3 3 3 

48

3 3 3 3                                3   3  3                     3 3 3 3 3 

rit.

51

 

 





Presto, ma non troppo











                                                                  3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3                            6 6 6  pedal simile 6          15                                                  3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 dim. cresc.   3   3 3                                   6 6 6  6     18                                                       3 3 3 3 12



Ethan Brown

  

54

 

Presto 6

   

Signatures ‘25



 

    

6

  

 

     

 

    

       6

  

 

 

3

 

 

 

3

5

 

  

6                               3 3 3 3                   

57

  6

    



    





 

3 3 3 3                                   stretto cresc.                                      6 63                                       6 (cresc.)                                           66  7                         6                         6 6  60

      

6





             

75



 

 

6

 



 

    

  

6

 

6



6

 



dim.

 

 

       

6

6

  

     

6



 



Ethan Brown '25 "Miniature No. 10" (Performance)

40th Edition

  

 

Ethan Brown '25 "Miniature No. 10" (Sheet Music)

       

6



    

6

    6       (dim.)  6                         

         6 6 6 6                                             

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6

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fine

Nicolas Volkert '25 "Forest Stream" (Painting)

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The Quiet Forest I walked as quiet as a drifting cloud Through the forest feeling the mellow fall air The sun blazed, and flowers danced in a crowd The copper leaves twinkled in the sun’s stare Their uniform pattern throughout the trees Carried a peaceful feeling throughout the breeze

- Jayden Pryzbilla '28

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Vermont through the Seasons The maple leaves as red as cherries ripe, While falling softly, twirl to the ground.

A fairy’s touch has placed this vivid stripe.

A blanket lays until the snow is found.

The branches reach where leaves have soared aside.

The bitter cold now freezes all the lakes.

The blizzard warnings hint to go inside, The heavenly disaster of snowflakes.

The landscape shifts as flowers start to bloom, With subtle rains and birds that tweet and sing.

The rushing rapids flow down the flume, While sunsets branch beneath the care of spring.

As summer’s heat arrives with flaming flairs, Then charcoal and sunscreen scents blend the air.

- Mitchell Bay '28

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Andrew Pentler '26 "Explosion" (Comic)

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Daniel Reis ’28 “Niagara Falls Photography” (Photography)

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The Paradox I’ve deduced now, that all my motives can be traced back to the quixotic dream of freedom.

I wish to live by my own devices, because I shun the idea of being subject to others.

I wish to become a grandmaster, because I dread the idea of being cast into zugzwang. I wish I was a genius, as I despise the ego of artificial intellectuals.

I wish to stay outside The circle, for I envy those who’re naturally charismatic, eclipsing the inept moonlight. I strive for authenticity to avoid being enslaved to my own dormant insincerity.

I wish to comprehend what’s genuine, because I’m unable to distinguish between friend and acquaintance, until the line is ultimately distorted and indecipherable.

Beyond everything, I wish to neither be a leader nor a follower, because I perceive the burden of both worlds. These selfish ambitions are known as individualism. Each bound by a desire, distinct to our own existence, pushed to the precipice.

-Steven DeVougas ‘27

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An Eggcellent Adventure The sun rose with its vivid light spilling around like a freshly cracked egg yolk. The palm trees swayed calmly and waves crashed onto the soft, warm sand. All around, life started to get up. The birds sang their songs, the chameleons shifted into their hiding places, the pigs snorted, and in the ocean, a humpback whale let out a jet of water. All but one animal was up: a chicken.

“Makoa! Time to get up!” Nani called.

“Nugget, you’re going to be late for school!” The sun was almost fully above the horizon now. Its blazing light shined into their small nest.

“I’ll be out in five minutes”, said Makoa with a voice barely above a whisper and a tinge of annoyance. He had told his mom to stop calling him Nugget multiple times and each time she said she’d stop, but yet she still called him it.

“Nugget, if you don’t get up right now I will take away your peckaphone!”

“Ok, ok! I’m coming!” A loud crashing noise came from his room and grunts could be heard as he slipped on his clothes. A few minutes later Makoa walked out of his room wearing a Cluck ‘n’ Roll shirt, shorts, and Eggzy shoes.

“Hurry up Nugget, the bus is going to come soon!”

“I know mom. And stop calling me Nugget!”, he said as he grabbed a bowl of cucumber and lettuce cereal. Makoa sat down at the counter and was quickly absorbed by his peckaphone. The sun was now fully above the horizon revealing the rest of their nest. It was a smaller nest, but cleanly kept. The kitchen which was combined with the living room was where they spent most of their time. The couch looked like it had seen better days and the eggavision needed a new remote, yet it provided comfort. The kitchen had a small table. Right above the table was a small window with a beautiful view of the sun shining brightly, a thick jungle brimming with life and the tips of skyscrapers from Yolksville just barely visible.

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“Makoa, hurry up! The bus is pulling up right now!” Outside, a yellow school bus filled with fellow chickenagers playing and talking pulled next to their long driveway. Up front was an old and stern chicken whose wrinkly face glared at their nest when he saw Makoa was not out.

“Oh, shoot! I’m going, mom! Bye! Love you!” Makoa sprinted out the front door, nearly forgetting his backpack, and tripped on the bottom frame.

“Bye Nugget! Have a great day!” As Makoa made his way towards the bus, a smile started to grow on the stern bus driver's face. As Makoa sprinted harder, the bus driver's smile slowly turned into a laugh, a laugh that grew greater the closer Makoa got to the bus. Makoa was now within 5 feet of the bus when suddenly, the driver shut the doors and started driving off.

Makoa could hear the laughter of the students and the driver as they drove off. This was the second time this week he had missed the bus and the fifth time this month! He knew that if he told his mom he missed the bus again she would take away his peckaphone for a month. With a sigh, Makoa put on his eggphones to listen to his favorite band, Cluck ‘n’ Roll, as he set on his way to school.

Makoa was roughly halfway to school, but time was running out fast.

School would be starting in 5 minutes and he still had at least another 10 minutes to go. Makoa needed a plan and he needed one fast. Immediately his mind went into overdrive. Could I hitch a ride? Nope, I’m on the eggspressway which rarely has any cars. Are there any shortcuts? Well, I could go through the jungle, but there is no way I’m gonna ruin my Eggzy’s. Makoa’s mind raced as tried to think of any ideas. He knew that if he could just get a ride he would make it to school right on time.

What if I called one of my friends? Makoa pulled out his peckaphone and dialed his best friend's number. He clicked the call button and silently pleaded. Almost immediately, the call was cancelled. A large red signal bar appeared on his screen.

“Oh no! There's no service!” Makoa had lost all hope. He knew that no matter what he did he would be late to school. He put down his head and started his now solemn walk towards the school. Suddenly, the chirping of the birds was interrupted by a low hum. The hum grew louder and louder, turning into a loud roar. Makoa’s heart filled with a little bit of hope.

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“There’s no way”, he whispered to himself. About fifty meters behind him was a sleek Ford Feather Minivan barrelling down the road towards him. The sun reflected off of its smooth black paint, temporarily blinding Makoa.

“It’s beautiful!”, he exclaimed. Makoa ran into the middle of the road and started to frantically flap his wings. The cool black Ford Feather Minivan came to a slow stop.

“What’cha want, kid?” clucked a rough looking chicken.

“Sir, can you drive me to school please?” Makoa knew not to get into cars with strangers, but he was desperate. The driver sat there deep in thought, stroking his gray, scraggly beard.

“Ah, why not. Hop on in”. Makoa’s heart filled with excitement. He was saved! He opened the huge door and jumped in. Three minutes later the Ford Feather Minivan pulled up front to his school. Before the car even stopped Makoa was already out the door, running.

“Thanks sir!” he screamed while running through his school's front door. He ran into the building, racing through the halls until he reached his first class. He sprinted through the open door and nearly dove into his seat. A sigh of relief escaped Makoa just as the bell rang.

- Rowan Waltenberger '28

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Dawson Meuller '25 "Fur Pants" (Apparel)

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Nostalgia Returning home feels strange, yet clear and bright.

I knew this place, yet now it feels so strange.

Though much has changed, the essences still delight.

It shines, the golden past that seems to change.

The streets are clear the air is fresh and pure.

No matter where I turn the past is the same.

The new metal swing I once swung secure Now creaks with a rusted stained frame.

The blackberry once full of fruit and bloom Now bears no fruit, the tree stands dry and still.

The friends I once played with had all gone, with whom?

I’ll wait until the moment comes, until I look back on the days of joy and light.

For this will always be my home, so bright.

- Abhiveer Kalirawana '28

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Declan Manning '25 "Encounter" (Sculpture)

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Toska

The monsters outside are so much scarier than the ones under my bed and yet, for some reason, time and time again I am lured away from the safety of my room into the looming void of possibilities: an infinite expanse for me to take a hold of.

And. Yet. I. Can't.

Inevitably I find myself wandering into a murky fog, I end up stumbling blindly onto an edge. This is where my mind turns numb.

I wake up falling. No ground to feel and no light to find any. Even the air whipping past my face seems empty.

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And yet, the lack of input drives my comfort. All alone, falling through that abhorrent wind with nothing but sound guiding me.

After what feels like forever, the eternal metronome of wind in my ears stops. I can't pinpoint when I stop falling, all I know is that I have.

I open my eyes to realize that nothing has happened. No void… no wind… nothing… I find myself in my bed, waiting for someone to find me.

- Gabe Stillmank '25

Alonzo Saavedra '26 "Rapture" (Pen Drawing)

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Mitchell Nigro '25 "Buffalo" (Pencil Sketch) 40th Edition

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Crushing on a Girl Don’t tell anyone, but I have a crush on this girl.

She’s in my math class. She sits in the seat by the whiteboard on the wall, right by the door, and she is breathtakingly beautiful. Her dark brown hair tumbles down her back in graceful waves, never seeming to get dirty or frizzled up when it’s humid out. I don’t know how she does it.

It’s been raining this whole March week and not once have I seen her hair anything but perfect.

I’m getting sidetracked. Where was I? Appearance, right. Her face, she has a really pretty face. I think it’s pretty symmetrical, but her features don’t make a perfect stone mask like some goddess of antiquity. If you looked at her face, saw her smile, the way she laughs when someone says something funny, you’d see just how much life there is in her. She’s really put-together too. She has a bunch of sweaters and cardigans that she rotates through, with these bracelets that match the colors. She’s also got this little satchel she carries with her with fidget toys and notebooks and all manner of flowery pens. These quirks may be small to someone else, but to me, they make her all the more unique.

I haven’t even gotten to her personality yet. This girl I like, she is genuinely the nicest person I’ve ever met. Shy about it, too — I tried to stammer my way through “you’re the best” after I dropped my pencil case and she helped me scoop the contents up. She just quietly said “thank you” back and quickly sat back down. I hope I didn’t embarrass her. She’s too kind. I’ve never seen her get mad at anyone for any reason, ever. The only time she even seemed mildly annoyed was when Johnny called her laugh cute. She didn’t really smile for the rest of the day. I felt bad for her. She deserves to laugh without being self-conscious about it.

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She’s also super smart. She’s in AP Bio. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been absolutely clueless in math when all of a sudden, boom, she gets called on and gives the answer and whatever the teacher’s talking about just clicks in my head. It must be magic. I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew how to do magic, either — her creativity is up there with the greats. She writes poetry for the literary magazine, she does photography. She’s just so creative in ways I couldn’t possibly imagine being. Did I mention she’s smart? I did. Sorry, I’m a little distracted right now thinking about her. I hope she thinks about me. Oh, well. At least it’s sunny out! Makes third period go faster.

There’s the bell. I’ve made it. It’s time. I get to the math classroom on the first floor and everyone’s crowded around a desk up front. Confused, I approach the clump. It’s the seating chart. I can’t push through the group.

I have no idea where I’m supposed to sit. Suddenly, a hand taps me on the shoulder. I turn around.

It’s her.

“Hey,” she says to me in her half-quiet voice. “You’re over there, right next to me.”

I drop my pencil case again. I’m starstruck. There must be a god of coincidence. There’s no way that I’m sitting next to her. No way. I stand there like a deer in headlights. We’re going to be working together for the next month and a half? This is… uh…

“Um,” she says to me. “Are you okay? You dropped this and went quiet.”

“Oh,” I reply, and grab my pencils. “Thanks.” I swiftly walk past her to take my seat. She takes hers a few seconds later.

“How are you?” I ask, but then the bell preempts me. Time for class to start.

I don’t really pay attention that period. We’re learning about matrices or something. The teacher ends the lecture before the class period is over, so we have time to start on homework. My deskmate (cannot believe she’s my deskmate!) fishes in her backpack for looseleaf and the workbook. I suggest to her that we work together. She seems happy with it.

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We get to talking as we progress through the problem set.

“That’s a nice sweater you have,” I tell her.

She half-brushes off the compliment. “Yeah, I have five of them. They’re all in different colors.”

“Oh yeah! I’ve noticed. I thought I was going crazy when you wore the mauve and the purple back to back.”

She giggles. It’s so precious. “Haha, yeah, I kinda picked similar colors so that they were different, but not so different you’d consciously register them as different.”

“You trick people for fun?”

“It’s something to do. I get bored easily.” She laughs again.

“You sure don’t seem to. Uh, be boring, that is.”

“Thanks, haha.” She gestures to my paper. “You forgot the minus sign right there, by the way.”

“Oh!” I flush in embarrassment. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The bell rings out the end of the period.

“I’m glad I got to meet you!” she says to me. “I think we’re going to have a fun quarter.”

“Me too! You’re so so nice and helpful,” I say back.

“Aww. I appreciate it!” She begins to gather her stuff. “Where do you sit at lunch?”

“Hmm, usually just by the window. I like looking at the trees.”

“Do you mind if I sit with you? You’re a nice friend and I want to keep talking.” I blush. I think she likes me. My love was not unrequited. Maybe I’m just jumping to conclusions. Still, the fates have given me what I want and I was too nervous to even ask for.

The second bell rings. It keeps ringing. I frown. The sound seems to be changing now. It’s less of a ring, and more of a… ringtone? I check my phone. Seven o’clock. That can’t be right…

I wake up in my bed. The pitter-patter of a sleepy morning drizzle is outside my window. I turn the alarm off. From downstairs, my dad calls to me.

“Riley! Breakfast’s ready!”

I sigh, and roll out of bed.

Maybe someday.

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- Jack Czukas '25 Signatures ‘25

Oliver Kloss '28 "Taking Flight" (Photography)

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Dawson Meuller '25 "Defending Jesus" (Pen Drawing)

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Found Date: December 31st, 2024 I have found not discovered reclaimed something I never had & never before wanted.

I have found it not within the pointless speeches of fame but from people who truly exist exist in a world I live within.

I have found myself only only in the rants of companions & in a town drenched in snow where I saw what humans were.

I have found myself no longer writing writing for the aspiration of an imitation I hope I will find myself writing Writing for myself sometime soon.

PS: BUT I JUST CAN’T I have found myself instead writing my own speech of glory in the hopes it will somehow help us both & now I just rehearse it before anyone who listens.

- Alex Daczko '26

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Flickers of Guilt Elijah and Horatio set the fire and listened for any intruders. The crackle of the flames echoed in the silence of the small office as they watched the papers burn and the evidence turn into ashes. Elijah stared out the window at the decrepit street, regretting every decision he made the night before. The embers lit Horatio’s face as he laughed like he was the Joker who just robbed a bank. Sweeping up the remains with their hands, they dumped the ashes into the small trash can alongside the desk.

Elijah climbed out the window they entered before as Horatio followed, trying to make the room seem as it was before.

Elijah looked back at the building and asked, “What would we do if one of them men saw us.”

“Even if they did see us we got masks on so they couldn’t tell who we was.”

“Just get in the car.”

Horatio entered the driver’s seat of his old beat-up Ram 1500, and Elijah followed suit, waiting, then opened the door. He sat on the ripped passenger seat, which smelled of a cigarette. The key turned, but the engine didn't start. Again Horatio turned the key, but the engine didn't turn over. His bony fingers formed a tight fist as he pounded on the dash and yelled at the car. Elijah slouched down in his seat, trying to not be noticed by his enraged friend, although his large size prevented him from going too far. The key turned again, and the old truck started with a thundering rumble.

“Guess third time’s the charm.” said Elijah.

“Yeah, well, when we get to Mexico, im’a buy a better car than this old piece of junk.”

Rolling out of the parking lot onto Main Street, they headed towards Highway 70 E. The truck was the only thing on the road. As Horatio turned onto the interstate, he began to blast the stereo. Racing down the interstate, Elijah found an old sandwich on the wrapper-covered floor and took a bite. Horatio looked at Elijah in confusion, wondering why he was always so hungry.

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The men kept rolling down the highway until they saw lights behind them flashing a bright red and blue. Looking at the speedometer, the men saw they weren’t speeding. Pulling over, they stared at each other with a dreaded look in both their eyes. The cop stepped out of his car and walked toward the truck, talking into his radio. The windows rolled down as the officer started to lean on the driver-side door.

“Know why I pulled you over today?”

- Nicholas Woelfel '28 Nico Ertl '25 "Creation" (Pen Drawing)

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Mikail Schlegel '25 "The Penultimate Revelation of the False Prophet" (Sculpture)

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Voyage through 24th Street The sun pierces my eyes as I step out and get hit with a bitter cold like a slap in the face. The rush of the electric environment hits me all at once and I take it in. This is it. This is the city of dreams. I feel the dampened concrete under my feet and walk further along the street. I pass a restaurant and hear from inside the commotion of bustling workers.

“Order up! Strawberry cream cheese and a breakfast sandwich!”

I’m about to further explore when the blaring horn from a yellow cab passes through the jam-packed traffic. The clicking of dress shoes, rhythmic like a poem, approaches me as a man with a fashionable coat, linen pants, and a slick-back hairstyle passes me with a phone to his ear and an annoyed expression.

“I just can’t deal with her anymore. She’s too much for me to handle.

No, of course not!”

He lets out an exaggerated sigh before disappearing into the sea of people. The old apartment buildings scattered around the city catch my eye with their corroding metal rods and the stairways running up the floors. The frosty weather lingers up to my stiff fingers and toes, while a shiver crosses my body. My attention is caught by the metal screeching of the subway underground, and the commotion of people on the busy day. In the corner of my eye I spot a little area with joyous people spread around a fence. As I get closer I see the tiny hills and toys inside populated with a variety of dogs having the time of their lives.

“Can you direct me to Rockefeller center?” I hear someone ask as I'm admiring the area. The fresh and crisp smell of the park and trees elevates the experience even more. I suddenly realize what everyone has been saying about this city. The bitter weather, thick natural smell, the relentless taxi blares and angry pedestrians. It’s all happening so fast and I feel intimidated by such a full city.

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As I step on an empty bag of Lays, I spot the one and only Prince Street Pizza with a line spilling out the door. Immediately, I sensed the electric environment of the yelled orders. When I receive my slice I head out the door and into the bitter weather. The pizza’s intense heat warms my hands as the coldness starts to linger back to me. As soon as I take a bite my taste buds spring up like excited toddlers on a trampoline. The sweet dough and savory sauce combined with the fresh mozzarella makes the most flavorful slice of pizza I have ever had in my life. After a while I depart a few more steps, and I’m blinded by an extraordinary view like nothing I've ever seen.

I lift my gaze up and stoutly standing there is the one and only Flatiron building staggering over the city like a raised sword in the midst of a prepared cavalry. At that moment the clouds, sun, and wonders around combine to make outstanding scenery. I think of pulling my phone out but am too mesmerized by the proud tall building to perform the motion. I feel in my own world as pedestrians fly by me and I stand in the middle gazing at the wonder. I had always been interested in the architectural side of things, whether a simple house or a national landmark. I had always thought about the amount of layers that went into constructing such an outstanding building.

On my way back I decide to make one more imperative stop: Grand Central Terminal. As soon as I step in, the chaos of the streets transforms into a unique energy of business and admiration. Again, I feel frozen in time, admiring every angle of the building while the christmas lights dangle from the staggering pillars above. I step outside and take everything in one more time. The environment of 24th street is nothing that can ever be copied - alive and unstoppable.

- Lucas Schwarz '28

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Will Mukana '26 "Innovation" (Mixed Media)

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Pulled Apart I would say “I love you” to every person I meet, If only I could walk Down more than one street.

I could write on every board in chalk The ways I wish to go.

In the end I will be left to talk Of the flowers I had hoped to grow, The songs I could have sung, All the footsteps made in fresh snow That I never got to see done.

If my life is finite, How, then, can I be happy with one?

- Trevor Waltersdorf '25

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Credits

Editors-In-Chief Writing Editors

Jackson Czukas '25 Sam Thompson '27

Jack Cooney '26 Jackson Czukas '25 Alex Daczko '26 Mikail Schlegel '25

Signatures Staff

Sam Allbright '26 Community Relations Jack Cooney '26 Jackson Czukas '25 Jackson Czukas '25 Alex Daczko '26 Spencer Holly '27 Declan Manning '25 Special Thanks Muhammad Muddasir '26 Mr. Peter Beck Elijah Rodriguez '26 Mrs. Stacy Kodra Mikail Schlegel '25 Gabe Stillmank '25 Offical Refreshment Sam Thompson '27 Nico Viccari '27 Ian's Pizza

Art Editors

Jack Cooney '26 Mikail Schlegel '25

Photography Mikail Schlegel

Moderator

Mrs. Erica Zunac

Front Cover:

"Fluorescence" (Painting) - Will Mukana '26

Front Inside Cover:

"What a Silly Guy" (Collage) - Mikail Schlegel '25

Back Inside Cover:

"Origami Phoenix" (Origami) - Paul Anggara '27

Back Cover:

"An Encounter with Death" (Marker Drawing) - Jayden Costello '25 "Finis" - Jackson Czukas '25, Alex Dazcko '26, & Mikail Schlegel '25

Snails:

"Slowly Dressed" (Pencil Drawing) - Matt Nacker (See pages 15, 32 & 42)

I am your final visitor.

I am a mongrel and a cur.

Your soul is tattered just like me.

But sewn together we are free.

You can escape this binding room, Although it will end with your doom.

Do not fear me, this was ordained.

Do not thrash or scream or complain.

Your last late date and...BAM! You, alone, will see your final breath And I, alone, will steward what’s left.

I am death. I am fate. I am.

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