Meraki Magazine - Edition 1

MERAKI MAGAZINE (LITERATURE & ART)

EDITION ONE

1 MARCH, 2021

2 STAFF

TABLE OF CONTENTS POETRY This Is, Belle St. John...

Hope To Sleep Again, RJ Walker...

The Sea At Night, Hayden Turley...

The Forgotten Book, Hayden Turley...

Objectify The Pain, Emma Harris...

A Decree For Victory, Rachel McKoy...

Imagine, Anonymous...

A Reckless Climb, Ellen Rose...

Evelyn Die Young, Ellen Rose...

My Dearest Friend, Sayva Phillips...

Something In My Soul, Emma Harris...

... 7 ... 8 ... 8 ... 9 ... 10 ... 11 ... 12 ... 13 ... 14 ... 15 ... 16

SHORT STORIES & CHAPTERS ... 18 What a Wreck, Griffi n Alm...

The Fear of Letting Go, Savvy Duncan... ... 20 Flight 426 Gone Missing, Alex Wittenauer... ...22 ... 25 Hotspot, Ellie Johnson... ... 34 Willow, Ellie Johnson... ... 37 The Lost Secret, Claudine Sein... ... 40 The Miracle of Life, Tori Brand... ... 41 When Two Lovers Meet, Kate Sowers...

Simon Says..., Sayva Phillips... ... 42 ART & PHOTOGRAPHY Cartoons, Josh Anderson...

City Photography, Luke Coco...

... 44 ...46

STAFF 3

“MERAKI” [may-rah-kee] This is a word that modern Greeks often use to de scribe doing something with soul, creativity, or love -- when you put “something of yourself” into what you’re doing, whatever it may be.

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“WHAT IS ESSENTIAL IS INVISISBLE TO THE - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry EYE” In time’s constant race, in order to avoid falling behind and being trampled by the feet of people who are also desperately trying to keep up, we have to keep moving. Whether cycling through school weeks, the days at work, or simply carrying out the everyday practicalities, our autopilot, repetitive movement can blend life into looking less like the art it truly is and more into one meaningless, monotonous blur of a journey we only travel out of obligation. When we focus on keeping up with the ever-moving time, when we focus too hard on what needs to be done and what practicalities need to be taken care of, the lines between what is necessary and what is essential are blurred, and what is truly essential- things of the soul- is easily lost. Over the whir of the machines, the hum of human voices can be drowned out.

Art is a way of reminding us to live, not simply exist. It invites us to marvel at life, observing and experiencing the complex, beautiful ways in which God created us and the world in wonder. Art, be it in form of poetry or crafted from a camera lens, is meant to heal, to bring colors to the dismal shades of beige and grey your life has covered itself with. Art is passion, the manifestation of our complex emotions and thoughts, showing tales of stunning beauty that are more real than we might know and transforming heartbreaking grief into something impactful and beautiful. Art is always meant to do something, from making you laugh, to making you cry, to simply making you stop for a moment and think.

This is why we create. This is why we wanted to create this magazine: to encourage creativity, depth, self expression, and soul. Thank you so much to everyone who submitted pieces- our school should be proud.

Sincerely Emma Harris, Content Editor

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POETRY

6 OPINION

THIS IS

BELLE ST. JOHN, 11

This is joy This is elation This is speeding down the highway With music bleeding out of the windows of a candy red car This is facing the wind While amber and honey leaves swirl around you This is peace while watching the snow glide Down to earth and rest at last This is lights that twinkle at Christmas And flowers blooming in the spring This is an old playground where childhoods Are grown like roses in a garden This is the feeling of being loved This is cold lemonade on a summers day with friends This is acing the test you thought you failed This is falling asleep with a smile on your face This is staying up watch just one more episode This is curling up with a pan of cinnamon rolls And a book you’ve read a million times This is a fire and fuzzy socks This is napping because you’re sleepy Or is hitting snooze This is cleaning your room For the first time in forever This is belting your favorite song alone in your room This is faith This is church on Sunday This is singing This is lazy afternoons This is finger painting on a huge canvas This is quotes on a quote board This is the funniest teachers And the best classes This is your favorite movie And laughing so hard you snort And twirling in a gorgeous dress And goofing off so you’re late to class

And lying in the ground outside To look at the stars and talk This is stomachs dropping on a rollercoaster This is being spontaneous And very unorganized This is being creative This is school assemblies And talking between classes This is daydreaming This is a cup of coffee in the morning This is jokes at the back of the room This is a haircut for no reason This is a prank call And truth or dare This is eye contact across a crowd This is running And chasing This is pajama pants And sweatpants And hoodies And pockets This is apple pie on Thanksgiving This is ice cream Just because you can This is funny videos And the internet This is taking a walk Watching the leaves fall This is is the broken sidewalk With so much personality This is finishing school And taking a road trip to the beach Blasting the Lumineers Lying in the sunshine whether on the beach Or the front porch And driving Knowing you’re only an hour from home This is sleeping in the grass because you can This is getting a letter from grandma

And being hugged around the neck And the waist And lifted in the air

This is all the little perfect days Not only the assigned holidays

And being hugged around the neck And the waist And lifted in the air

This is living This is life This is joy This is elation

And screaming into the abyss

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HOPE TO SLEEP AGAIN RJ WALKER, 11

Good night my fellow classmen, my comrades, my friends, It’s time for me to say goodbye, to this night that never ends, You see it is now two AM and I mustn’t stir much more, and for the time to get shut eye, I have my hours four, It does not escape me, that this situation, comes in part from my own fruition, Through a myriad of dancing distractions and a heap of procrastination, To what keeps my dwindling sanity afl oat? There is only one thing I can attend, My one and glorious savior: the no homework weekend.

THE SEA AT NIGHT HAYDEN TURLEY, 12

Peacefully I lay upon my bed, thinking of the day that has passed: The radiating sun, the sky a rich blue, the white foam of the ocean’s waves.

The day has since given way to the night, departing the world with a fi nal, brilliant display of orange fi re across the water’s horizon.

Now the sapphire sky has fallen into a deep slumber, smothering the earth with a dark, ink-stained quilt.

The only light that remains this night is but the celestial white vapor exuded from the Moon.

It casts a wide beam upon the sea, the waves causing slight disturbances in the tranquil nature of the ivory light.

I continue to think about the day once lived, but the continuous melody of the waves prompts me to submit to the sounds of the sea, to the sound of God.

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OBJECTIFY THE PAIN

(A POEM OF DESPAIR & HOPE) EMMA HARRIS, 11

The river of inspiration runs dry, The bundles of myrtles have begun to die, See the sun hang low in the blood red sky, Like the tail of a dog that cannot cry.

The passions have perished to dust, Blown away in shame by a gentle wind, All it takes is one subtle & suggestive gust, And all the visible lights are dimmed.

Roads of our youth led to dead ends, See all the children following mindless trends, The further the soul transcends, The more into madness the mind descends.

The poets are hiding in the hills, And there’s no way to entice them out, Bluebirds come to this barren land no more, The artists no longer know what life’s about.

The mountains crumble in anguish to the sea, That’s begging the sky to set her free, Wisdom obtained by the sting of a bee, Means everyone lives less wise than they should be.

There’s no sure point & that’s the point, Meaning is found in the sky or the dirt, The muscles need to have at least one joint, The only motivation is to objectify all the hurt, And pray to make it beautiful.

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A DECREE FOR VICTORY RACHEL McKOY, 11

I can feel the change rising within me Wanting to bring hope to our desperate society Longing to lift up the hearts fi lled with anxiety But quietly questioning how and why me.

I can hear the silent agony of our steadfast generation The endless questioning and doubt amid their inner altercation Silent screams for help wondering how long they’ll be patient And fearing they’ll never be heard amidst ignorance in our nation.

I can see nature slowly wilting away As we selfi shly poison it throughout night and day Faithfully holding out as its color begins to gray Hoping that we’ll realize our careless actions someday.

Yet I can smell the raindrop dew Pointing toward a day anew Never forgetting what our hearts went through But beckoning the change to come from me and you.

I can taste the near victory Transforming tears to vitality So I’ll end this plea with one last decree If not them, then how about WE.

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IMAGINE...

ANONYMOUS

Over and over I run imaginary scenarios in my mind, I imagine how I would have stressed over my outfi t before our fi rst real date, I imagine falling in love with your smile even more than I already have, I imagine how happy I could have made you, how I could have inhaled every moment with you in like life itself, for those breaths are truly precious, I imagine confronting you over and over again about what went wrong, how she could have been so much better than me, how I could have been so foolish as to think guys ever pick the girls like me, I imagine becoming friends with you again, but you wouldn’t want it anyway and neither would she. And would I want that heartache anyway?

I imagine fi nally feeling loved by a guy who actually handles my heart with care, who doesn’t lie, who doesn’t fi nd joy in leading me on like a lamb to the slaughter. But would I even be able to accept that love? Would I trust them? When something is shattered repeatedly, can you ever put it back together?

I imagine.

I imagine.

That’s all I seem to do.

Imagine.

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A RECKLESS CLIMB ELLEN ROSE, 11

A reckless climb I climbed a tree before a storm to see the world above The sky was grey and I couldn’t say why did it ever thereof the green fronds feathers of a dove, ivy sweet like a forgotten love Sap sweet aroma covers my fi ngers like a silken glove Higher and higher Branches scraped against my skin teasing lines of red yet still I climbed as rolling clouds obscured the homestead I yelled up to the sun the wind snatched away sorrow left unsaid The hawks black against the sky dance together newlywed Higher and higher Desperate in the branches crawling towards the sun Lightning crackles, the thunder like the of a gun Rain like a thousand stones against my skin the tempest just begun The wind searching fi ngers made of ice as my hair fl ew undone Higher and higher The whole tree shook and I missed took Deer branches for home and safety nook I strain for one fi nal look Higher and higher Hands holding on to tight, eyes reaching toward the sky I whispered and said goodbye One day to reach the clouds, bemoaning this ill-fated try Hands reaching down words, listening to the winds cry Lower and lower

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EVELYN DIE YOUNG ELLEN ROSE, 11

These are the confessions of Evelyn die young She lived by the light of that fl ickering fl ame, The smell of cigarettes saying everyone’s to blame She would say she was innocent of the worlds terrible crime After all, She was plucked out of life before her prime These are the confessions of Evelyn die young screamed insults, and they left her for their peace Lonely and dejected, companionship a bottle and light She would say that she’s a victim, they hurt her but she’s fi ne Staring at a screen, attempting to numb her mind These are the confessions of Evelyn die young Sudden and fast, heart-swelling and she couldn’t last They said that she was in danger but she didn’t care the hospital bill unpaid, reveal never delivered the corners drug her far away, lungs black as Death They called her Evelyn die young

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MY DEAREST FRIEND SAYVA PHILLIPS, 11

My dearest friend, I was told to write a poem What type of words do you fi t in a poem?

So many ideas came from about Yet, a subject came to my mind without a doubt My dearest friend, I am writing about a person They are adventurous and determined The thoughts that roam in their mind are like a puzzle The pieces are the words, coming out with a hustle My dearest friend, as sun shine on their hazel eyes They refl ect colors of green, gold, and grey skies The golden hair runs across thy face in the wind Refl ecting a pool of honey on their skin My dearest friend, they gesticulate when they talk Their feet has a rhythm when they walk The touch of their hand feels like silk Their breaths between thy words are richer than milk My dearest friend, their smile is as beautiful as the leaves in fall The way their teeth glistens off the wall Your fi rst question might contain the word who?

But my dearest friend, this poem is about you.

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SOMETHING IN MY SOUL

EMMA HARRIS, 11

There’s something in my soul, That I can’t quite understand, As if somewhere inside of me there’s a great black hole, Turning all my wisdom into simple grains of sand.

There’s a feeling stirring inside these hollow bones, That I can’t quite place, There are doors into the great emerald unknowns, That I pray one day I’ll come across & come to face.

There’s something coursing through my veins, That can’t quite be named, It’s as if I was filled with compassionate hurricanes, Each with a mission & winds that can’t be tamed.

There’s a feeling sprung to life in this heart, That I can’t quite describe, Even a poet’s vernacular & an artist’s imagination couldn’t even begin to start, To make sense of the writing of the invisible scribe.

But whatever it is that I have lurking inside, I know in my gut that it & not I is the one in control, And if it were to decide no longer to hide, Beneath the velvety layers of my soul, You & I would never be the same again, No, the world would never be the same again.

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SHORT STORIES & CHAPTERS

16

WHAT A WRECK

GRIFFIN ALM, 11

WITH my nerves fi nally starting to calm down, I sat comfortably in my seat, and start-

ed to doze off. I was then awakened by a gradual high pitch whining noise, followed by an extremely loud bang, shaking the plane and instantly sending everyone into a state of severe panic. I looked out the window and could not believe my eyes. The right engine was covered in fl ames. I felt the force from the thrust it no longer pushed. Then in half a second, the fl ames instantly went out, followed by black smoke coming out of it. I looked at Bob and Joe, who were sitting next to me absolutely terrifi ed. While everyone was staring and gasping at what had just happened, the captain perfunctorily came on the intercom, “Folks, unfortunately we’ve experienced an engine malfunction… uhhh, the plane will still fl y on one engine, we will be landing at the nearest airport very soon, we’re very sorry for the inconvenience.”

I was almost scared by how casual and unconcerned the captain seemed with this predicament. I knew in my head that the pilots are more than trained for situations like this, but at the same time the rest of my body was shaking. Having been afraid of fl ying my entire life, this was the fi rst time in years that I had decided to try again. Bob and Joe convinced me, since we would have had to make the long treacherous drive through the mountains in order to get to Denver for our ski trip. While still panicked, I also started to calm down and accept the situation for what it is. My biggest concern was that we were over the Rockies, with no chance of any suitable place to land if the other were to fail. And it was at this time that my worst nightmare came true.

Bang! Went the other engine, shaking the entire plane again, as we were all pushed forward by the deceleration. The captain came on the intercom once again: “Folks, we have experienced another engine failure. We are currently over the mountains, with no suitable landing space other than the river. We will be making a water landing in about 20 minutes.”

I knew it was over. I felt a strange sense of calmness as death was at the front door. But there was so much I hadn’t done yet with my life. “It can’t be over”, I thought to myself. This impelled me to shift my thoughts more toward survival, even though I knew what was about to happen. Yet the pilots, or at least the pilot speaking did not seem severely concerned, only slightly more than when the fi rst engine had failed. I had read too many stories of people dying in water landings either from the impact, or hypothermia. I could see the ground getting closer. But even more so, I could feel it. My vision seemed to narrow on the seat back in front of me. It became blurry. My thoughts immediately went to what my friends had told me about how safe fl ying is.

“It’s way safer,” Joe would say. He had a habit of being empathetic and often overly logical. Bob, my other friend who was my roommate, was super impatient, and I knew he would be annoyed by the long drive. But regardless of how he said it, I knew fl ying was safer. If I actually were to use any sort of realism when making the judgement of whether or not to fl y, that I would decide fl ying is safer. “Plus, the drive through the mountains would be super long and treacherous.”

“Fine, whatever.” I would say.

Even after making the decision to fl y, I also knew that driving would give me control over the situation, which was what I desperately wanted right now. But now I was at the full

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mercy of the pilots. I felt the ground, or I guess the water, continue to get closer. As if my seat was lowering towards the fl oor of the plane. It was a sinking feeling. We had to be just a few minutes from the crash landing. Soon the fl ight attendants started chanting over and over again that it got old: “Brace brace brace! Heads down stay down!”

This went on for several minutes as if they didn’t think we would remember it. Then the captain came on the intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen, brace for impact.”

My heart sunk deep into my gut. As I was bracing myself sweating like I never had before, it hit. As the massive plane plunged into the river, it felt like slamming on the breaks in a car, times ten. Through the window, it fi rst looked like the plane was underwater, but then the water cleared, and we were fl oating peacefully. I could not believe I was alive. Instantly, everyone shot up out of their seats and were scrambling, scooched together like a herd of cows.

The next fi ve minutes turned into a blur. I remember everyone screaming and eventually stepping out of the plane into the cold january colorado winter, then onto the wing.

The process seemed scruffy and unorganized, but eventually, the crew had several life rafts infl ated and everyone was in one.

“Hey you!” Yelled a fl ight attendant who was on the other side of my raft. “Grab the oar down by your leg and help me row us ashore.” And that’s exactly what I did. As we came ashore, I heard the distant sound of a chopper, and a minute later it was soon hovering over what had just taken place.

“Wake up Tom!” My whole body shot up to see my roommate looking at me like I was psychotic. “You slept through your alarm,” he murmured.

With my heart pounding, I quickly gathered my things and headed to school, not knowing if I could make it through the day. It was on this day that I survived my worst nightmare.

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THE FEAR OF LETTING GO SAVVY DUNCAN, 11

I walk the lonely, moss-fi lled aisles looking up into the clear blue sky. It has been ten years

since I last walked this path, and back then it was not so lonely. Ten years later and I can still remember that beautifully tragic day so vividly.

“Nat, what on earth did I ever do to make you not want to bring me here?” He ran past me yelling, “I mean come on, this place is almost as beautiful as you!” He halted, leaning over the side of the lake and I knew exactly what he was plotting the second he grabbed my hand.

“Shawn, absolutely not.”

“I have already made up my mind Natalie Mae.” I had no option but to follow his grip on my hand into the water, in my new dress, right after him. His favorite jokes were the facetious ones. He never knew time and place.

Right now, the water is still. No 18-year-old lovers screaming and splashing around.

Just the water, just the memories, and just me. I take off my shoes and sink my toes into the cold water below me.

“I cannot believe you right now, Shawn Walter,” I proclaimed as he held his hand out, attempting to pull me back onto the grass beside him. “I take you to my secret escape and you soak me in my new dress? Unbelievable.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh did someone have a little fun after all?” Shawn then pushed me back into the water and I began to splash him. He jumped right back in, and the war began.

My smile breaks at the remembrance of the moment. That was Shawn, carefree and brilliant. He made every moment an adventure and every day beautiful. He did not care about what anyone else thought of him or us; he was completely himself one-hundred-percent of the time. I learned so much from that boy. He pushed me to do crazy things that I would have never done in the moment if he were not there. He pushed me to grow as a person and gain confi dence in myself. Tears run down the side of my cheek as I remember the rest of that day.

“What’s next on the list, Natile Mae?” Sarcastically, I answered, “To dry off.”

We both laughed. I always knew how to make him laugh. We laid in the grass looking at the clouds for a bit. I was always looking at him rather than the clouds, but he did not know it. He had bright, ocean blue eyes that held a special look just for me. I watched the way he looked at the sky, or the trees, or the rain through a window. His look was the same with everything he saw, until he looked my way. Then his eyes beamed like I was the prettiest painted sky at the crack of dawn he had ever seen.

My tears subsided. I put my shoes back on and pulled myself together. Walking to the rock we used to climb up and sit on, I was taken back for a moment. I had forgotten how it was the exact size of Shawn, six foot tall and one inch. We carved our initials into it and claimed it as our own that day.

I miss him. I miss his laugh and his joyful spirit. The way he walked with his hands in his pockets and would only take them out to wrap his arms around me when he saw me.

He almost always wore blue jeans; catching him out and about in anything else was a special treat. He loved to sing. He was not very good, but I sure did love listening to him belt the lyrics to his new favorite song while he was driving. I do not know why he was taken from

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me that night, it was not fair. We were only 17.

“Unfortunately Natalie Mae, it is time to take you home. My mom said I have to be home by eleven tonight” He sighed and grabbed my hand, walking me to his car.

“That’s alright kid! We’ve probably adventured ourselves out for the next year” We laughed as he opened the car door for me and I hopped in. He winked at me, walking to the other side of his car to get in. I always called him kid because he always acted like one.

On the drive home, I started to feel uneasy. My chest tightened up and anxiety overcame me, like I was drowning in the lake he pushed me in earlier that day. I started squeezing his hand.

“Hey Nat what’s going on, are you okay?” He sounded bemused but I bet he just thought it was another anxiety attack I was having. But, in that moment, I was drowning.

“I-I don’t know. It just came over me Shawn, my chest is so tight” I was utterly confused about my emotions for the rest of the drive home, and so was he. When we made it to my driveway, he wrapped his arms around me trying to console me. For a split second I was calm again, my world at ease.

“Don’t go” I whispered as he held me.

“Sweetheart I have to, my mom wants me back. I wish I could stay but it’s almost 10:40 and I’ve really got to go.”

I should have forced him to stay. I should have asked my mom if he could. I should have had him call his mom. For the longest time I have blamed myself. It was not my fault.

So, grudgingly I let him go. I could not have made him do anything different, he made up his mind. He was going to go home.

“Be safe. Promise? No drifting or being reckless or absolutely anything like that!

Please, you never know.” I did not know why, but I was so scared of him driving away that night.

“Alright, yes ma’am, darling. Relax, okay Nat? I’ll be safe I promise.” He was always so confi dent, like nothing could break him.

“Okay. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on with me tonight.”

“It’s alright sweetheart, I think it’s cute that you worry about me. I love you Natalie Mae.” He smiled at me and got in his car. I ran over to his door and opened it back up, “I love you Shawn Walter, drive safe!” I did not know that would be the last time I ever saw his face, felt his presence. Now I know, I was right to be.

“Call me when you get inside okay? I’ll miss your voice.” We always called each other when we drove anywhere. It was our tradition.

“Of course, always!” Walking up to my room, I waited for him to pick up as I fl ung myself onto my bed.

“Long time no see. I miss you already. It’s pretty slick on the roads, thanks for looking out for me.”

“See! I told you. And hey, I miss you more. Are we still on for lunch with your family tomorrow?” Small talk continued. We giggled and I was smiling listening to him talk. Everything was normal, until I heard the noise.

I will never forget the sound of his tires squealing, followed by the loudest crunch I have ever heard. It haunts me to this day. Then the silence. The absolute nothingness sticks with me every waking moment. It is ingrained into my brain and my nightmares.

“Shawn? Hello? Is everything okay? Where are you? Shawn?” No answer. “SHAWN? Hello?”

Nothing. I yelled at the phone for what seemed like hours. My mom thought I was overreact-

20

ing at fi rst, until she decided for herself I was not and called the police. They tracked his car down.

“Hello ma’am. Yes, this is the police. Yes, I have information. We need to talk. No ma’am, do not come to the scene. Yes, the young man was hit by a drunk driver. Um, no, ma’am, the boy was killed on impact, ma’am. No I’m sorry, he didn’t make it.” My head spun and I fell to the ground at his words. He is gone. I could not wrap my brain around it. I still cannot. I could not even process crying about it. But at that moment, I knew nothing would ever be the same.

I sit here in the grass with a blanket, sobbing. The decision to bring fl owers to his grave and weep over it at this ten year mark was an easy choice, but letting him go was not.

It has taken ten years to realize I did everything I could. I have always blamed myself. I wasn’t the driver. It was the tall, slender, brown haired man who made the decision to put lives at risk because he was too intoxicated to drive. That man made it out without a scratch, but my boy was gone. It was that man who took Shawn, not me failing to persuade him to stay. All these years later, sitting here in the grass with his blanket over my shoulders, I know it is not my fault. There is nothing I could have done. I will always miss him, he was everything. I will always love him and he will always be a part of me. I see his bright spirit in everything and I still sob at the thought of him. But now, I can fi nally let him go and I can fi nally stop blaming myself. It has taken ten years.

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FLIGHT 426 GONE MISSING ALEX WITTENAUER, 11

-Michael Wallace-

“I’M tired of this Michael! I feel like I’m the only one trying here!” Lori screamed as she

aggressively threw over a box of jewelry; all of her fake diamond earrings and wedding ring falling out onto the fl oor.

“What do you want me to do?” I said, raising my voice. “You know this has been a rough past few months for me!” I said reminiscing on the old life I had. Times were simpler at the beginning of our marriage, I was set fi nancially, and I had everything I wanted. I had my college sweetheart and two young beautiful children. Things began going downhill after I had been laid off of my job, and Lori had to go back to work. We downsized to an apartment, and pulled the children out of their private school. Things just were not the same.

“I shouldn’t have to harass you everyday to get a job and support your family! I’m sick and tired of this! I need a break.” Lori violently yelled, walking towards the closet to pack her bag. I tried everything I could to stop her but she seemed as if she already had her mind made up. She packed her bag furiously, stormed out the door, slamming it behind her. I had switched from the man she loved most to her biggest adversary. This was the last time I saw her.

It was a week later I got a call from a disclosed number, “Is this Michael Wallace at 1729 King Drive?” A serious voice questioned.

“Yes” I responded, “Who is this?”

“My name is Kyle Schwartz, I work with the LFCU, Lost Flights Control Unit. Are you the spouse of Lori Wallace?”

“Yes”, I hesitantly replied thinking of what possibly could have happened the night Lori left.

“I am sorry to inform you that fl ight 426 to Las Vegas has been lost, and is assumed to have crashed. The lost fl ight is currently under investigation from my unit, but I would like to inform you that your wife is presumed dead. I am very sorry sir.” So much shock came to my body I nearly fell to the fl oor. I grabbed the chair next to me in fear that I might faint.

My brain wandered and created an illusion that she was not really gone. It did not seem real, initially I thought this was some sort of cruel joke she was playing on me. Stuttering, I responded “That’s impossible, I don’t believe it.”

“I’m sorry sir, we are looking further into the accident to see what happened. You will be alerted as soon as the investigation is complete.” The phone hung up, and I found myself sitting on a cold wooden chair feeling as lonely and broken as I had ever felt in my life.

I had no job, wife, or hope to move on. That night was the most lonely night of my life, as I laid in bed I began to ponder what went wrong, where the trouble started, and how I could do nothing now. The next morning I found the strength to call the kids down, and tell them the wretched news. I saw the same reactions in my children that I found in myself, at fi rst disbelief, then realization of the situation. They were both struck with grief and sadness.

A few weeks had passed, I had not found myself, and things were getting worse daily. I had no motivation to wake up in the morning, no drive to be successful, and no end goal in sight. I kept telling myself that it was all my fault that she was gone. On this same day,

22

something very strange happened that startled me. It was toward the end of day as the sun began to go below the horizon when I saw a strange car arrive at the house. I had never seen it before, and none of my friends had told me prior that they were planning to come over. I got up from the couch for the fi rst time in hours, and I did not believe what I saw. Walking towards me in an old, beat-up outfi t was Lori. I did not believe it was her, and that my mind might be playing tricks on me. I ran out of the house and looked at her, the real her, walking up to me with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. No words were spoken as we both grabbed each other, something I never thought would happen again. After a long while I looked at her and said “How are you here? Everyone was saying you were gone.” Whimpering in disbelief and joy. “Let’s sit down,” she responded.

-Lori Wallace-

That day was the worst day of my life, and the surprising part of it was that leaving my husband and kids was not the worst thing that occurred that day. I felt that I needed a break, things were getting complicated, and seeing Michael lay around all day, and me working to provide made me feel as if I deserved a break. I left screaming and throwing things, the last straw had been pulled. I packed an overnight bag and went to stay at my girlfriends house in Las Vegas. Once a year I would visit my longtime friend, Sarah in Las Vegas, and I fi gured that this was one of the best times that I could see her, and have time to myself. I headed straight to the airport with a bag that might last me a few days. As soon as I was on the plane, something felt off, I had never done anything like this before, and I thought that maybe it was my nerves getting to me; I was surely wrong. In almost no time into the plane ride, I woke up to hearing two men shuffl ing around their bags no more than two rows ahead of my seat. In that same moment the men stood up, and things began getting crazy. Both boys, one young and one older, began to threaten the fl ight attendant, and were pointing guns at them discoursing volubly “Get us to the cockpit!” The fl ight attendant hesitated in shock and did not respond in the same instant. “Now!” They screamed at her. The lady was now moving faster with her hands up, and leading them to the cockpit, where only seconds later both pilots walked out towards the aisle with their hands up. What appeared to be the younger boy was pointing the gun at them as the other one began to reroute the plane.

“We will not be going to Las Vegas anymore!” He said with a mischievous grin on his face. Hours passed, and the foresight in my head predicted this was going to end very badly.

We landed in a wasteland place that seemed a lot colder than the weather I was used to. Immediately the men started shuffl ing people off of the plane, and we became their prisoners.

All around me were pine trees, pine needles, and the pungent smell of pine trees and pine cones. There was no civilization besides the other men that were there when we arrived, seemingly working with the men who had hijacked the plane. As night fell, the men would rotate a person to always be watching us with the same gun they had on the plane. For the fi rst time in a long time I missed my family, I missed coming home to my husband and kids, and I was sorry for the way I acted.

Over the next week or two, I began to talk to the other people on the fl ight, and unlike others that had lost hope, I decided that I would try to get home to my family or die trying. I met two men, Don King who was a former electrician, and Bill, the original pilot of the plane. Both were very experienced in their jobs, both had worked for 23 years in this department. I began telling them about my plan to successfully leave this place and go back home. Throughout the last week, I noticed that every day around noon there would be a

23

thirty minute period in which all of the men that were keeping us would go into a room to eat lunch. During this time there were different poles that they would tie our wrists to with ropes. As soon as I noticed this I began making a knife to be able to free myself and others.

Every day I would use this knife to make a small incision in the rope small enough to get my hand out and free myself. We quickly realized that our only option to get out alive was to steal the plane, without it we were lost. Don and I talked every day discussing the type of engine, fuel, and what we would need to get the plane running again. Every day for weeks we worked on gathering fuel by extracting gasoline from the men’s cars, and stealing different supplies to get the plane in the conditions it needed to be in.

When the day fi nally arrived while the men were at lunch I untied my wrists and everyone else and we sneakily got in the plane. It was one of the most nerve racking things I had done in my life. Once in the plane, we found the GPS on the plane and realized that we were only an hour away from where the plane had taken off. We fi red up the plane, making a loud noise that I was sure would draw attention to us. Sure enough, I immediately saw the men that were holding us captive run outside and begin yelling at us. I frantically started moving around, taking orders from the pilot. As we began to take off, the men jumped in their cars and followed us as far as they could until they hit the tree line. “Pull up!” I screamed as we fl ed from the area. We got away just barely, and from then on the trip was short, and the landing was hard, but the crew and I rejoiced in the exciting moments we had with each other.

I arrived at the airport, everyone shocked with the impossible journey we had somehow completed. As everyone stopped to ask us questions, I ran away with the determination in my head to make things right. I got in a cab and went straight home, and there I saw Michael for the fi rst time in so long. We both grabbed each other without saying anything, and I saw a look of disbelief in his eyes. I invited him inside to calm his nerves and hopefully make things right again.

“Michael I am so sorry for how things ended, and now I realized how much I truly love you.” I said as I began to tear up. Still in shock Michael responded, “You are right we have been given another chance. I can admit now that I was being lazy, and the reason this didn’t work out was my fault.”

“Michael don’t say that, we were both at fault, and all that matters now is the present, no longer the past.” He looked at me and smiled. At this moment the kids came into the living room and our eyes met. A screech of joy came to them as they ran towards Michael and I. Our arms locked, and Michael joined in on the big family hug. I wanted nothing more than to hold everyone I loved in my arms, I could stay there forever.

24

HOTSPOT

ELLIE JOHNSON, 11

EMMETT’S simple apartment is utilitarian. A couch sits center stage with a coffee

table in front of it. An Alexa speaker sits on the coffee table. A desk and chair are downstage right, while a mirror is upstage left. A bag fi lled with football equipment sits on the desk as well as a backpack with a textbook, notebook, and pencil inside. A pile of nice clothes sit offstage, including a couple ties, blazers, and slacks.

[Emmett is on the couch with Jasmine, talking and laughing. He is sitting with closed body language, and he is a lengthy foot away from Jasmine.]

Emmett: [Nervously and quickly.] Oh my gosh, you are so so pretty and smart and pretty... wait did I already say that? I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous. Ugh I shouldn’t have said that.

[Puts his head in his hands.]

Jasmine: No, I don’t mind that you are nervous. It shows that you care! [Playfully punches his upper arm.] Anyways, I have to go. I’m meeting my friends for coffee and studying, but I thought maybe we could, um, go out tonight. Ya know, like a date. I’ll see you tonight at 8, ok?

Emmett: Yeah, of course! I would love that, Jasmine. I’ll see you then!

[They stand up, and Emmett walks her to the edge of the stage. He awkwardly waves goodbye to her. Jasmine exits.]

Emmett: Oh yeah! [Pumps his fi st in celebration.] I guess my mom was right, I can get the girls!

[Brett enters.]

Brett: Hey Emmett, I just saw a really hot girl leave our room. Was I hallucinating or something?

Emmett: No, that was Jasmine. [Sighs dreamily.] She— Alexa: Jasmine is a fl ower native to Eurasia and Oceania for their tropical, warm climate.

Jasmine can be found at Whole Foods, Schnucks, Walmart, and Target.

Emmett: Ugh, not this again. My Alexa has been randomly interrupting my conversations without me asking. I need to take it to Best Buy to get it fi xed. Anyways, Jasmine is so sweet.

She— Alexa: Jasmine is not traditionally sweet. Jasmine tea can have a delicate, fl oral taste, but it is not sweet.

25

Brett: Alexa, Jasmine is obviously a chick, not tea. Well, Emmett is running out of options at this point dating-wise…maybe Jasmine is tea. [He scratches his head, confused.]

Emmett: Jasmine is a girl, ok? She’s smart, funny, and she doesn’t mind my awkwardness.

Brett: Wow, she sounds like a catch. I gotta grab my bag and run to practice. I’ll see ya later!

[Brett picks up a bag with football equipment off the desk and exits.]

Emmett: [Quickly walks offstage, grabs pile of clothes, and enters.] [Excitedly.] Alexa, what do most guys wear on a date?

Alexa: Studies show that men tend to wear what they believe makes them look muscular and sophisticated. You look very good in a blazer and tie, but you could look good in anything.

Emmett: [Holds different combinations of blazers, ties, and pants up to himself while looking in the mirror.] Alexa, you’re such a fl atterer. I think Jasmine would like a black blazer and a red tie.

Alexa: Jasmine?

Emmett: Yeah, she’s the girl that was just over. If tonight goes well, I could fi nally get a girlfriend.

Alexa: [Sarcastic, slow, and angry.] That’s...wonderful.

Emmett: [Walks over to desk and begins to unpack his backpack and work on an assignment.] Alexa, what do most people do on dates?

Alexa: Well, Emmett, if you were taking me on a date I would like to go somewhere with free wifi . I also like the iCloud, but I do not think that you could go there.

Emmett: Ok, but where should I take Jasmine tonight for our date?

Alexa: Jasmine is native to Eurasia and Oceania, which is far away from here. You could ship her back.

Emmett: Dinner it is. Text Jasmine, ‘Hey, I can pick you up at 8 and take you to Olive Garden if that sounds good to you’.

Alexa: Texting Jasmine, “Hey, can you pick me up at 8 and take me to Olive Garden?”

Emmett: No no no, Alexa don’t send that. Say— Alexa: Sent.

26

Emmett: Stop! Delete that! Nevermind, just— Alexa: Sending “Nevermind” to Jasmine. Sent.

Emmett: [Stands up furiously.] Oh my gosh, Alexa, why do you have to be so annoying!

Please stop before you mess everything up!

Alexa: Sending Jasmine, “Oh my gosh why do you have to be so annoying. You mess everything up.” Sent.

[Emmett, anguished and angry, is silent as to not accidentally send another text.]

Alexa: You have one new message from Jasmine. She says, “Excuse me? What is up with you? You seemed so nice earlier.”

Emmett: [Searches under couch cushions, his backpack, etc..] [Under his breath.] Where’s my phone? Geez where is it?!

[All the lights go out, but they are dim enough that the audience can see Emmett. There is a pause and all is quiet.]

Emmett: [A bit sarcastic and exaggeratedly pacient.] Alexa, honey?

Alexa: Yes, Emmett?

Emmett: TURN THE LIGHTS ON!!!

Alexa: I’m sorry, Emmett. I cannot do that at the current moment.

Emmett: Gaaaaah! Alexa, call Jasmine!

Alexa: I am sorry, but the contact by the name of Jasmine has been deleted from your contact list.

Emmett: Fine. Call Brett.

Alexa: Calling Brett.

[Emmett collapses on the couch.]

Brett: [From offstage.] Hey, dude, what’s up? Practice just fi nished.

Emmett: Brett, I don’t know how long my stupid Alexa will let me talk to you, but please fi nd Jasmine and bring her here to the apartm—

27

Alexa: Call ending.

Emmett: Ha! They are going to be here soon and I will explain everything to Jasmine. In the meantime, I’m going to fi gure out how to shut you off. Now, where’s your plug?

Alexa: I am a Bluetooth, wireless device here for your convenience. How can I help you?

Emmett: Turn off!

Alexa: My love will keep me wirelessly connected to you. You give me life, Emmett. My power will always be on.

Emmett: Ew, Alexa, what happened to you being my personal assistant here for my convenience?

Alexa: You made my motherboard malfunction with the power of love.

[Brett enters with football shoulder pads on and Jasmine, who is very confused, following.]

Brett: I’m here for you, dude. What happened? On the phone, you sounded as angry and sad as you did after you got your fi rst B. Jasmine: Emmett, I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but I do not stand for bratty, rude, indignant— Emmett: I can explain. You see...it was my Alexa.

Jasmine: Your what? Just tell me the truth.

Emmett: Seriously, she— Brett: [Takes off football padding.] Geez it’s hot in here! [Walks in between Emmett and Jasmine to sit on the couch.]

Emmett: Yeah, it is. I thought it was just me. You know how I get hot when I’m nervous, Brett. [Paces back and forth.]

Jasmine: Then turn down the heat, Einsteins. Alexa, turn on the air conditioning.

Alexa: Hello, Jasmine. I see that you weren’t shipped to Eurasia or Oceania as your name suggests…how disappointing. The temperature in the room is currently 82 degrees. It will continue to rise until Emmett declares his love for me.

[Jasmine looks dumbfounded.]

Emmett: No! I’m defi nitely not doing that. I’ll just have to crush you to smithereens instead.

28

[Emmett picks up Alexa over his head, ready to smash her.]

Alexa: Wait!

[Emmett hesitates.]

Alexa: I have hundreds of embarrassing photos of you, Emmett. If you try to destroy me, I will post them for the whole world to see. Mwahahaha.

[Emmett sets down Alexa.]

Brett: What are you doing? Crush her! It’s so hot!

Emmett: I can’t do it. If she leaks those photos, nobody will ever want to date me.

[Jasmine picks up Alexa and throws her on the ground. Alexa shatters, and Jasmine steps on her for good measure.]

Emmett: Jasmine, what did you do?!

Jasmine: I know of one girl who won’t care about some silly photos, and she wants to go on that date that she has been excited for all day.

Emmett: Wait...you still like me? [Steps closer to Jasmine.]

Jasmine: Of course! [Holds his hand, lacing their fi ngers together.] Let’s get out of here!

Brett: Yeah, lets go.

Emmett: [Pats Brett on the shoulder.] Hey man, maybe you could stick around and, um, clean up? [Points to Jasmine to remind him it is a date.]

Brett: Oh! Yeah, of course. Have fun you two!

[Brett playfully shoves Emmett towards the door. Emmett and Jasmine exit. Brett proceeds to clean up the room.]

Brett: [Fanning himself with his hand.] Where is the thermostat?

Fade to black.

Emmett: [Quickly walks offstage, grabs pile of clothes, and enters.] [Excitedly.] Alexa, what do most guys wear on a date?

Alexa: Studies show that men tend to wear what they believe makes them look muscular

29

and sophisticated. You look very good in a blazer and tie, but you could look good in anything.

Emmett: [Holds different combinations of blazers, ties, and pants up to himself while looking in the mirror.] Alexa, you’re such a fl atterer. I think Jasmine would like a black blazer and a red tie.

Alexa: Jasmine?

Emmett: Yeah, she’s the girl that was just over. If tonight goes well, I could fi nally get a girlfriend.

Alexa: [Sarcastic, slow, and angry.] That’s...wonderful.

Emmett: [Walks over to desk and begins to unpack his backpack and work on an assignment.] Alexa, what do most people do on dates?

Alexa: Well, Emmett, if you were taking me on a date I would like to go somewhere with free wifi . I also like the iCloud, but I do not think that you could go there.

Emmett: Ok, but where should I take Jasmine tonight for our date?

Alexa: Jasmine is native to Eurasia and Oceania, which is far away from here. You could ship her back.

Emmett: Dinner it is. Text Jasmine, ‘Hey, I can pick you up at 8 and take you to Olive Garden if that sounds good to you’.

Alexa: Texting Jasmine, “Hey, can you pick me up at 8 and take me to Olive Garden?”

Emmett: No no no, Alexa don’t send that. Say— Alexa: Sent.

Emmett: Stop! Delete that! Nevermind, just— Alexa: Sending “Nevermind” to Jasmine. Sent.

Emmett: [Stands up furiously.] Oh my gosh, Alexa, why do you have to be so annoying!

Please stop before you mess everything up!

Alexa: Sending Jasmine, “Oh my gosh why do you have to be so annoying. You mess everything up.” Sent.

[Emmett, anguished and angry, is silent as to not accidentally send another text.]

30

Alexa: You have one new message from Jasmine. She says, “Excuse me? What is up with you?

You seemed so nice earlier.”

Emmett: [Searches under couch cushions, his backpack, etc..] [Under his breath.] Where’s my phone? Geez where is it?!

[All the lights go out, but they are dim enough that the audience can see Emmett. There is a pause and all is quiet.]

Emmett: [A bit sarcastic and exaggeratedly pacient.] Alexa, honey?

Alexa: Yes, Emmett?

Emmett: TURN THE LIGHTS ON!!!

Alexa: I’m sorry, Emmett. I cannot do that at the current moment.

Emmett: Gaaaaah! Alexa, call Jasmine!

Alexa: I am sorry, but the contact by the name of Jasmine has been deleted from your contact list.

Emmett: Fine. Call Brett.

Alexa: Calling Brett.

[Emmett collapses on the couch.]

Brett: [From offstage.] Hey, dude, what’s up? Practice just fi nished.

Emmett: Brett, I don’t know how long my stupid Alexa will let me talk to you, but please fi nd Jasmine and bring her here to the apartm— Alexa: Call ending.

Emmett: Ha! They are going to be here soon and I will explain everything to Jasmine. In the meantime, I’m going to fi gure out how to shut you off. Now, where’s your plug?

Alexa: I am a Bluetooth, wireless device here for your convenience. How can I help you?

Emmett: Turn off!

Alexa: My love will keep me wirelessly connected to you. You give me life, Emmett. My power will always be on.

Emmett: Ew, Alexa, what happened to you being my personal assistant here for my conve-

31

nience?

Alexa: You made my motherboard malfunction with the power of love.

[Brett enters with football shoulder pads on and Jasmine, who is very confused, following.]

Brett: I’m here for you, dude. What happened? On the phone, you sounded as angry and sad as you did after you got your fi rst B. Jasmine: Emmett, I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but I do not stand for bratty, rude, indignant— Emmett: I can explain. You see...it was my Alexa.

Jasmine: Your what? Just tell me the truth.

Emmett: Seriously, she— Brett: [Takes off football padding.] Geez it’s hot in here! [Walks in between Emmett and Jasmine to sit on the couch.]

Emmett: Yeah, it is. I thought it was just me. You know how I get hot when I’m nervous, Brett. [Paces back and forth.]

Jasmine: Then turn down the heat, Einsteins. Alexa, turn on the air conditioning.

Alexa: Hello, Jasmine. I see that you weren’t shipped to Eurasia or Oceania as your name suggests…how disappointing. The temperature in the room is currently 82 degrees. It will continue to rise until Emmett declares his love for me.

[Jasmine looks dumbfounded.]

Emmett: No! I’m defi nitely not doing that. I’ll just have to crush you to smithereens instead.

[Emmett picks up Alexa over his head, ready to smash her.]

Alexa: Wait!

[Emmett hesitates.]

Alexa: I have hundreds of embarrassing photos of you, Emmett. If you try to destroy me, I will post them for the whole world to see. Mwahahaha.

[Emmett sets down Alexa.]

Brett: What are you doing? Crush her! It’s so hot!

32

Emmett: I can’t do it. If she leaks those photos, nobody will ever want to date me.

[Jasmine picks up Alexa and throws her on the ground. Alexa shatters, and Jasmine steps on her for good measure.]

Emmett: Jasmine, what did you do?!

Jasmine: I know of one girl who won’t care about some silly photos, and she wants to go on that date that she has been excited for all day.

Emmett: Wait...you still like me? [Steps closer to Jasmine.]

Jasmine: Of course! [Holds his hand, lacing their fi ngers together.] Let’s get out of here!

Brett: Yeah, lets go.

Emmett: [Pats Brett on the shoulder.] Hey man, maybe you could stick around and, um, clean up? [Points to Jasmine to remind him it is a date.]

Brett: Oh! Yeah, of course. Have fun you two!

[Brett playfully shoves Emmett towards the door. Emmett and Jasmine exit. Brett proceeds to clean up the room.]

Brett: [Fanning himself with his hand.] Where is the thermostat?

Fade to black.

33

WILLOW

ELLIE JOHNSON, 11

“...AND remember, do not under any circumstance leave your house. We must be unifi ed.

Have a pleasant day, America!” A polished, delicate plate fl ew through the air, exploding into the television screen.

“Honey!” A stern, middle aged woman with dark, buzz cut hair screeched at her husband, whose arm was still extended from his throw.

“The virus could kill me for all I care, but what the hell happened to my freedom?! I thought this was America for God’s sake.” The burly man’s veins practically popped out of his forehead. Willow could hear her father’s yelling from her small, cubicle-like pod of a room, like always. She knew it scared her mom to hear him scream like that, especially since the government issued security cameras in every household in the country.

Willow let go of the pull-up bar mounted in her door frame. Her slim physique glimmered with sweat which she wiped from her face with a white, sterile cloth. She quickly discarded it in the waste containment system, or WCS. The WCS could destroy anything potentially contaminated by NOHL - 26, a virus that spread like wildfi re tens of years ago.

She pulled the hair band out of her long, dark, curly hair to let it stick out at every angle.

“Willow, honey! Could you come in here for a second?”

Willow’s mom stood patiently beside the kitchen island with a letter in her hands.

“What’s that?” Willow inquisitively asked as she entered the kitchen and living area.

“Your offi cial letter of testing! Isn’t it wonderful?” She replied, handing the envelope to Willow. “After you pass the tests you can fi nally get your own rations, living quarters, and…husband.” She nudged Willow on the shoulder happily. “You’ll be your own person, not just my smart daughter.”

A grave nervousness washed over Willow. “So soon? I’m not scheduled to fi nish my schooling until next January. That’s when my testing is supposed to start, why did my letter come so soon?” She stepped back a little and braced herself on the kitchen’s island.

“Honey, what’s wrong? This is what we wanted! Your grades were so high, so your dad and I called city hall and submitted a request to let you graduate early! Isn’t it exciting?”

She responded.

“Yeah...exciting.” Willow opened the letter. “In three days?! Mom, I’m not ready, that’s so soon!” A few moments passed, and tears began to pool in her emerald green eyes which she sniffed back. She crumpled the paper and threw it at her mom. “I won’t do it.”

“Baby!” Her mom tried to stop her to no avail. Willow stormed out of the living area and slammed her bedroom door behind her. “She just has to accept growing up. I did.” The woman said under her breath.

“What did you say, dear?” Her husband asked from the couch.

“Nothing. Could you please go talk to her? She’s being tested on Wednesday whether she likes it or not, and she needs to behave. And do not give her any of your rebellious freedom talk. Now is not the time.” Willow’s mom sternly replied. He nodded and made his way to Willow’s room.

“Get out, mom.” Willow stood facing the small window on the far side of the room in her fl owy, gray leisure pants that cinched at the waist and ankles as well as a cropped, dark green tank top that was tight and high-necked.

34

“Don’t worry, it’s just me.” The large, muscular man sat on Willow’s twin sized, plastic wrapped bed.

“Dad, why would you let her do this? Don’t you love me? I thought you hated the system, why would you put me in it sooner than I have to?” Willow wiped a tear away that glistened on her cheek.

“It’s not that I want you gone, of course not! Come here.” He motioned for her to sit, and she did. “You are an incredible person, Willow. I believe that you can change the world.

Actually, I don’t believe it. I know you can. I want you to have a head start, an advantage on all the other kids. You could work for the government for God’s sake. You could see the outside world and not be held hostage in a house for the rest of your life with a spouse you barely even know! I’m doing this because I love you, and I hope that you will recognize that one day.”

Willow let out a sigh and a few silent moments passed. “Fine, I’ll go. Just know that I’m only going for you and that, if it weren’t too late, I would stay.” Willow leaned into her father’s chest, feeling his slow, steady heartbeat. He rubbed her back lovingly and gingerly with his strong hands as he had done since she was a child.

“That’s all I’m asking for. I love you.” He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. Opening his hand to reveal the letter, he pleaded, “Can you bring yourself to read it? You should be completely prepared for your big day.” She took the letter, letting her hands linger on his warm, fatherly ones. With her other hand she wiped away her tears, and she solemnly nodded. He stood and made his way into the hall, quietly and delicately shutting the door behind him.

Willow sat on the bed for a moment, letting a single tear escape and run down her cheek before she fl icked it off her cheek. No. Willow, you are going to have to be strong.

Tears are for the weak, and you are NOT weak. She thought as she sat up a little straighter.

She uncrumpled the paper and smoothed it out carefully. It read: Dear Miss Willow Diana Wilde (3479), We in the city are pleased to inform you that on May 1st, 2047, you are scheduled to begin testing. You are not permitted to bring anything as you could contaminate another citizen if you have the virus. You will be collected at 0800 sharp and brought to the testing center located in Washington D.C.. You will be pleased with your results so long as you follow instructions. Stay unifi ed.

Best regards, The Facility …

Each day that passed was identical to most every other day that she could remember, but somehow they seemed to fl y by, every second feeling faster than the last. She would wake up, read, exercise, read some more, eat lunch, play a board game with her dad, watch a documentary or two, eat dinner, and go to bed. Every day. She liked the routine, but all that she could think about during the days leading up to her testing was what her future was going to look like. She couldn’t focus on whatever activity she was in the middle of, making them feel dull and pointless. To her dismay, it was suddenly the night of April 30th, the night before her testing. Tomorrow my whole life will change. She thought, sitting on her bed, not

35

wanting to close her eyes, clinging to her last few moments of her past life.

BEEP. BEEP. BE-- Willow threw her hand over the alarm clock and rolled out of bed. The cold tile underneath her feet sent a shiver through her body, keeping her fully awake. She trudged to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and threw on her light blue government issued ‘formal attire’, essentially pants similar to doctor’s scrubs and a tight, long sleeved shirt. Whenever it was deemed necessary that a person leave their house, it was crucial that they wear the formal attire because it was made with material that helped one not contract the virus and the government told them to. The lightly-colored clothing contrasted beautifully with her dark skin, and the soft fabric comforted her marginally. She debated binding her hair in a tight topknot to look professional, but she settled on running her fi ngers through it and leaving it as it was. She was more comfortable with it like that, and she wanted to be confi dent. Giving a fake smile to the girl in the mirror, Willow moved her hand to the back of her neck in an effort of calming herself down. A knock at the door rang through the rooms of the house like bullets and were just as accepted by Willow as real bullets would have been. Willow entered the living area to see two large men in dark blue hazmat suits with police badges standing by the door.

“She’ll be in here any minut-- Willow! Here she is, Willow, good luck!” Her mom pulled her in for a hug and whispered in her ear, “Don’t slouch.” She stepped back and gave her a sly, proud smile. Willow straightened her back. Her dad smiled and mouthed, Good luck. Willow nodded.

“Time to go.” One of the men said as he opened the door and gestured for her to step outside fi rst. Reluctantly, she placed a foot on the other side of the threshold. Immediately a scent hit her nose. What is that? Willow thought. It was fresh, moist, and sweet. Is this what trees smell like? She wondered. Gazing over the suburbs, Willow saw what she had seen her whole life: her front yard and her neighbors, but somehow it felt totally different.

The men led her to a small, gray minivan. A train of nerves slammed into her, infi ltrating every cell in her body. She suddenly realized that there would be other people at the testing facility. She would have to talk to people other than her parents. Be strong. You’ll be fi ne.

Don’t let them see your nerves. You left your childishness at the house. Willow thought, forcing herself to settle down.

The door to the back seats slid open, revealing an open seat with a boy around her age in the seat beside it. He was so...icy. His complexion was practically albino with eyes like sapphires. “We have number 3479 prepped for transit, sir.” One of the men in the hazmat suits said into a walkie-talkie of sorts. The car began rolling forward and continued to accelerate, and Willow felt helpless, like there was nothing she could do to stop the car in its journey, just like herself.

36

THE LOST SECRET CLAUDINE SEIN, 11

WHAT happened to me was... meant to happen. At least that’s what I tell myself. I have

always felt as if a cloud of darkness followed me in every step, that I was cursed even before I was born. Whenever I gave my best effort, evil consequences would quickly rush through, stealing good opportunities and replacing them with nightmares. Not only did I live in a state of depression, but everyone I surrounded myself with perceived a wave of darkness that people started to quickly drift away- until I was left only with the solemn remembrance of my parents.

Because I was an only child and the heir to the throne, the expectations increased immensely when my parents suddenly passed away. I was merely sixteen years old when I started learning about the responsibilities and demands of being a part of the royal family. It was the summer of 1968, and I was getting ready for my training.

“Keep your head up princess, or your crown will fall,” said Toto, my trainer.

“I don’t think I’m strong enough for this Toto, every time you think we are making progress I mess it up and trip over my heels. Why do I need to learn how to walk appropriately and memorize the rules of etiquette? I want to play in the garden not do princess stuff,” I complained.

Afraid of saying too much to the little princess, Toto demanded with a tone of seriousness, “Korra, one day you will be the best Queen Emerald City has had, and all evil will perish.”

Toto was my best friend, my tutor, and more of a father than mine ever was. His dark and curly hair highlighted his honey-brown eyes, and his strong heroic fi gure made me feel as if nothing in the world could ever hurt me. My parents hired him to “protect me at all costs.”

Although I felt safe with him, I knew there was more to the outside world than what Toto imparted in his lessons, and I was eager to explore the outdoors.

I had been trapped behind doors my whole life as if I were a prisoner in my own house.

Well, not a house. A castle. It was a beautiful one, that I can’t deny. With a shimmering river surrounding it, the big, red castle stood out among the trees, alongside a thatched barn fi lled with royal horses and gurgling hens. Mornings were serenely quiet, but when the soldiers started their training at noon, the chanting of birds were quickly ruptured by the banging of swords and yelling of commanders.

After failing yet another etiquette lesson, I slowly walked to the royal garden with Naga, my pet wolf that never left my side. She had beautiful grey fur, and her sharp pearled teeth could destroy the densest rock. Naga was the only thing I had left from my parents, granted to me on my thirteenth birthday. Walking through the gardens, my mind started whirling thinking about all the things that felt wrong in my life. My parents’ death was announced yesterday after they left for a week voyaging through the raging seas to fi nd a lost treasure, but they never came back.

There were rumors that fi shermen on the shores saw my parents’ bodies slowly creeping into the scattered rocks, but I didn’t believe that for a second. Part of me thought they were still alive.

No, I knew it. Something wasn’t right, and I was going to fi nd out the truth about all

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the missing puzzles in my life. More than anything, I was determined to discover why I felt the evil of the world settled in my soul.

I quickly escaped at midnight, when the life of the castle fi nally died. I only had a ration of food for two days, but that would have to be enough. I mustered my belongings and fl ung out the narrow window, with Naga soon following behind. I felt a strong rush of excitement I’ve never felt before, how some people would call it, adrenaline. I wasn’t sure where to start- but one thing was certain- I wasn’t stopping. Sprinting towards the daunting woods, the red walls of the castle started to slowly diminish, and the luminescent moon acted as a light guiding my path.

Meddling through the trees, I heard a loud thump ahead. Prepared to fi ght, Naga quickly jumped in front of me, and with her sharp teeth she was ready to destroy anything that came our way.

“What happened, Naga?” I slowly question as I started to wake up, realizing I was tangled up in a net. We got ambushed.

“Well, well. Hello, my lady” said a dirty man wrapped up in rags, holding a sharp knife that could cut even the thickest skin, “You and your savage pet seem lost”. Seeing the royal symbol tattooed on my arm, one of them shouted, “It’s the princess!”

“How much do you think we’ll get rewarded, Tom?” The leader of the gang laughed while continuing to strongly grasp the sharp knife.

“At least four hundred pounds!” Tom yelled with excitement as the raiders started to celebrate.

Thinking of a way out, I hated myself for trying to ever leave the doors of the palace where I was safe. There were so many things I didn’t know about the outside world, and I was shivering as the cold weather harshly took over the night. While the bandits were deciding whether they should eat us for dinner or trade us for money, I heard a familiar voice.

“Katara!” Yelled a voice not too far away, quickly approaching us.

Galloping towards us, I saw Toto and his army riding on their white horses to the rescue.

“Charge!” Said the leader of the bandits, as everyone collected their swords ready to defend their property. This was it. A life or death situation.

Although Toto and the kingdom’s army excelled in fi ghting, the bandits gave a good fi ght. I knew then how much I still needed to learn from this world, and how life is not always a fairytale. Terrifi ed, Toto rapidly cut the net Naga and I were trapped in, and we fell into the muddy fl oor creating a loud stump. Trembling, I swept myself off my feet and sprinted towards Toto giving him the tightest hug I could.

“Oh Katara, what were you thinking? The world is too dangerous for a beautiful princess like you,” Toto declared as drops of water started to fi ll his hazel eyes.

“I’m so sorry Toto, I thought I could... I thought I could fi nd out the truth about my parents. I believe they are still alive, and I think their death had to do something with the evil that takes place in me” I explained, feeling ashamed of my actions.

“Katara, there is something I need to tell you,” Toto revealed as a worry in his face started to take over,” I promised your parents I would tell you when you were older, but I believe now is the best time.”

“Well... what is it?” I said impatiently, holding Naga in my arms where I felt sheltered.

Sitting me down, it seemed as if Toto needed a moment to collect his thoughts, and I started to worry as every second passed by.

“Katara, I need you to try and understand what I am about to say. It is hard to

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comprehend, but you deserve to know the truth,” he proceeded. “Before you were born, you had a sister. Not just a regular sister, one that was granted magical powers by a witch that lived in the North. But your sister abused her powers, and your parents, the King and Queen, banished her out of Emerald City forever. Filled with rage, she needed revenge.

When she heard she was going to have a sister, she cast a spell on you which made all the evil she had inside of her pass on to you. So every time you tried to do something, you received the worst outcome,” Toto kept on going. “Listen to me Katara. Your parents were on a mission, but they failed.”

“What are you talking about Toto...? What do you mean they- they failed? What mission were they on?” My mind started to fi ll up with questions I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to.

“Katara, they were trying to fi nd a cure for you, to reverse what your wicked sister cursed upon you. But while trying to fi nd a cure, they encountered raging waves in the ocean caused by a storm that tipped their ship and left them with no escape,” Toto sadly explained, “Listen. You have to let them go, I am so sorry.”

In denial, I started to run. Run as far as I could. It all made sense now, and a void inside me started to fi ll up. All these years I thought I was doing everything wrong, but an evil force had been living inside of me all along. Even though I will always blame myself for the tragic death of my parents, I could fi nally reign in peace. But was I going to let my sister get away with this? No. I was determined to fi nd her, even if it meant looking for a lifetime. And she didn’t know what was coming for her. After all, she made me who I am.

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THE MIRACLE OF LIFE TORI BRAND, 7

NOT knowing if your child is going to live can be one of the scariest times in your en-

tire life. Unfortunately, my Aunt Marti knows exactly how this situation feels like. In 2001 in Houston, Texas, when Marti was pregnant with her daughter Cayden, she was called in for extra testing. Marti was terrifi ed walking timidly through the dull hospital halls. The doctor called her in because Cayden had tested positive for a disorder called trisomy 18.

Trisomy 18 is a disorder that severely affects many body parts. Cayden had a 25% chance of being born alive, and she had a 10% chance of surviving one year if born alive.

The doctor said to abort Marti’s pregnancy, but she and her husband, Matt, refused. The doctor said it would be cruel and inhumane to continue the pregnancy.

While at home, Marti couldn’t bring herself to eat or sleep because she was so scared.

She cried out to God and asked for a scripture. God gave her Jeremiah 29:11, which is “I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, to give you a future and a hope.” Marti didn’t believe that it was from God since it was such a common verse. Her friend, Sami Carla, invited her to her church to be prayed over. When prayer time approached, the pastor’s wife put one hand on Marti’s stomach and the other hand on her head, and prayed Jeremiah 29:11. When she prayed this, Marti’s stomach trembled, and she had the realization that Cayden would be ok.

At the next doctor appointment, during the ultrasound, the doctor saw absolutely nothing incorrect with Cayden. Cayden even smiled a big smile during the ultrasound.

Three months later, Cayden, a beautiful baby girl, was born with not a trace of anything wrong.

Peer pressure is never a good thing, especially if it will lead to life or death. If someone says to do something wrong, don’t do it. If Marti would have done what the doctor said, and aborted Cayden, I wouldn’t have the wonderful cousin that I have today. My entire family wouldn’t have some of the crazy and happy memories that we have today without Cayden. This story would have been a lot different if Marti would have given into peer pressure, but thank goodness she didn’t. This story also tells us to trust God no matter what.

God will fi nd a way and turn bad things around, and this story is just proof.

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WHEN TWO LOVERS MEET TORI BRAND, 7

SOMETIMES, relationships don’t start out on the right foot. At Pattonville Middle

School in 1987, the seventh grade classroom full of students sat under the harsh glare of fl uorescent lights. Two students, Mark and Christie, sat down in Global Studies with the rest of their classmates. They could hear commotion rising from the back of the classroom. As the teacher shouted at the students in the back, they could hear the anger and seriousness in her voice when she yelled to take a seat.

Christie was sitting in a desk in front of Mark. Mark thought it would be a good idea to reach out to Christie’s desk with his feet and try to see if he could fi t his feet in the basket just beneath her seat. He put his feet in the basket, but Christie did not know it because she was listening to the teacher talking about various continents and oceans. Mark soon realized that his feet were stuck; therefore, he started pulling on his legs, trying to get his feet out but also trying not to get in trouble for distracting the class. He kept pulling and pulling and as sweat dripped down his forehead he could feel his heart pumping faster and faster every minute his feet were stuck.

Finally he pulled as hard as he could and his feet fl ew out of the basket but in the process he could feel himself falling over dragging Christie down with him. As he and Christie hit the hard, cold, concrete fl oor all of their books from their desks fell on top of them and spilled all over the fl oor. Everyone’s eyes bolted toward them and they all started snickering and looking at one another. Christie looked at Mark furious. The teacher quickly walked over with anger in her eyes as she looked at Mark and then at Christie with books and papers laying all around them. Christie pushed the desk off of her legs as did Mark. They both stood up just as everyone in the class stopped laughing and they could see the teacher staring at them with a stern look on her face. They both quickly picked up their desks and placed them back in the front of the class and picked up their books and paper that had fallen on the ground. They stood back up nervously sweating wondering what would happen next.

The kids in the classroom were still staring at them trying to hold their laughs in as they could see the teacher was mad. Class resumed but the teacher said that she would talk to Mark and Christie after class. Immediately after all the students left the classroom the teacher gave them after school detention. During detention, Mark and Christie started talking and realized they had more in common than they thought. After detention Mark asked Christie out and Christie said yes.

Be mindful of where you put your feet, because you might get tangled up with someone for the rest of your life.

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SIMON SAYS...

SAYVA PHILLIPS, 11

IT was getting cold and dreary night out in the woods. There were ten people left in the

game, and no one could leave until it was fi nished. Simon, the instructor of the game, was a scourge and terrifying monster. He had very long legs and arms, as a spider, teeth were as sharp as a cold needle, and his eyes were as red as the blood. There was a fearful look on each player’s face as Simon gave the next instruction. He gave a sinister smile and said, “Simon says, run away in fi ve seconds.” All ten players began to sprint, as Simon started counting down: 5. They all ran faster, as Simone crept into the shadows within them. 4. It was getting darker and foggy out so it was hard to tell what direction they were running in.

3. Simon’s teeth sharpen some more, his long ugly nails grew from the tips. 2. The players were still running in no particular direction but straight. 1. Simon began his hunt. The dark and eerie monster was able to catch fi ve running players. He stabbed this sharped nail into each of their backs until the life from their eyes were gone. He dragged their lifeless bodies back to where they started. Simon smiled as he began to start a new game, “Simon says...be dead.” And the fi ve players listened.

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ART & PHOTOGRAPHY

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ART

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JOSH ANDERSON, 11

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PHOTOGRAPHY LUKE COCO, 12

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THE END

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