One sunny Spring Day, in Central Park, three girls were walking on a trail, weaving through the trees. The sun was bright, the flowers shined, the birds chirped, and the tree leaves rustled in the slight gust of wind.
“I’m so glad the magazine came out as well as it did! The realms felt so life-like that we could almost touch them!” Said the first girl, a sweet smile appearing on her face.
“I can’t wait to release it to the public! I hope they love it as much as we do!” said the second, jumping up and down with excitement as a huge smile popped up onto her face.
“Yeah! There are so many people that made this magazine amazing!” added the third. “The editors really have outdone themselves, doing all that organizing!”
“Definitely,” said the first girl, nodding her head in agreement. “But it wouldn’t have truly been a magazine without all the people who bravely submitted their work. They did so well!”
“All of this is true,” interjected the second girl. “The editors worked hard, and the people who submitted added some soul, but there’s one person who made all of this possible.”
The other two girls stopped, staring at the second girl. A lone bird squawked, as the three girls sat in silence.
“Mrs. Mac, duh!” the second girl sighed, smacking her palm against her forehead. “She’s the one who lead pretty much everything! I can’t believe you guys forgot about her!”
“Ohhhhhh.” The other two girls looked sheepish, one rubbing the back of her head, and the other looking at her feet.
Changing her attention, the third girl took a deep breath and smelt the sweetest smell. She ran over to it and jumped with joy. A Plumeria, her favorite kind. The swirling pink petals, the starry yellow center. She smiled whenever she saw them.
She remembered when she was younger, her dad read her unusual bedtime stories. Instead of princesses, knights, dragons, he read her books about nature, how to take care of a garden, how to spot rare plants and birds, he made her appreciate nature.
She whipped out her field journal and was about to scribble down her observations, when she glanced up and dropped her pencil with her jaw on the ground. The portal swirled like a living tornado, the breeze swiping at their hair. The girls looked at each other. One by one, in they stepped, to dream and dare.
Your Editors,
Bella Dana, Chloé Young, and Yelie Pooda
Notre Dame Preparatory School 2024-2025
Middle Level Writing Club Publication Volume IX
Writers’ Realm
Editor-in-Chief: Bella Dana ‘29
Assistant Editors: Chloé Young ’30 and Yelie Pooda ‘30
Cover Design: Juliette Barker ’31 and Elena Maggioni ‘31
Faculty Moderator: Mrs. Erin McNamara
Picture Perfect
By Ava Wong
The eyes of a painting follow me as I walk by. It’s a famous painting that's framed in the museum. This museum is filled with rumors online. Customers that come inside this museum never get back out. If your looks don't reach their standards, you can't enter. Suspicious, isn't it? The docent walks ahead and talks about the other paintings. He examines me occasionally, like I'm an art piece.
“This is a great painting by Picasso,” he says, pointing at a painting. But it’s a realistic painting. I swear it blinks at me before it switches back to its original face. The docent pays no mind to it and continues to walk. We were reaching the end of the hallway. It was a dead end, empty frames waiting.
“Hm... you seem decent enough; smile for me, okay?” he smiles, ear to ear. Literally. His two arms transform into multiple ones. I couldn't count before one of those arms grabbed my neck and shoved me into the picture frame. My back slams against the wall, but I don't go through. His smile fades and his mouth isn’t as wide anymore. He stays frozen as I run towards the entrance as fast as I can. The hallways go on forever. It isn't supposed to be this long. Something's clearly wrong with this place. I'm about to take a hard left but one of the paintings looks at me and then to the side of the frame. Like it's an actual person giving me help. I push the frame; it swings and reveals a tunnel. I can't see the end of the tunnel, but it's not like I have a choice, right? I can see the docent with his multiple long arms getting closer faster and faster. I push myself into the dark tunnel and slide the frame back and everything I see goes black. I half crawl, half drag myself through the tunnel. A faint light shines at the other side of the tunnel. I'm almost there, I can feel it. I crawl out and face the door that I came in before any of this happens. Hope sparkles in my eyes. I reached out to push the doors open, but I was a second too late. The sharp claw of the docent's long arm comes towards me and slashes my nape. My knees hit the ground as blood pools around me. I fall forward, meeting the ground, unable to catch myself.
"It's too bad that you didn't reach the standards of my art… you were so close to escaping! I got a little scared," the docent says, his form back to a normal-looking person, smiling as he brushes dust off his suit. My whole body becomes paralyzed. Pain shoots through my whole body. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. IT HURTS. IT HURTS. IT HURTS. IT HURTS. Red starts to fill my vision as the life drains from my body.
It'll Always Come Back
By Rina Waweru
I leaned into the mirror, drawing on eyeliner. Suddenly, I sprang back. My “reflection” moved in another direction. She spelled out in eyeliner, “I will find you,” reached out, and grabbed me, then she disappeared. My heart pounded in my chest as I faltered backwards. What was that and what did she want?
It never happened again until one day I came home, and the house was empty.
“Mom, I'm home!” I called out but got no response. As I went upstairs to my room I noticed a trail of black sludge.
“Mom, are you okay?” I whispered timidly while running towards my room. I swung my door open to find my mom limp on my chair with black sludge pouring out of her eye sockets and mouth and etched in my wall was “found you.” My eyes welled with tears as I shook my mom trying to wake her, but it was no use. I hugged her one last time as hands grabbed around my neck.
By Alex Lloyd
I had never seen a ghost. But like they say, there’s a last time for everything. It was Halloween 2017, and it was three AM. My friends dared me to go into the nearest graveyard and kick over a tombstone, so I went. I went into a graveyard, creeping across the tombstones. I felt a gush of icy air as my vision clouded. A shiver traveled down my spine. I could only see the faintest black outline of a hand pulling me as I fell. I waited to hit the ground, but nothing happened. The only thing I saw was cloudy black figures all around me, and suddenly I was one too.
The Black Hand
Nothing Like an Autumn Murder
By Yelie Pooda
I was walking through the park, taking in the beauty of autumn. The leaves changing colors to beautiful shades of oranges, reds, yellows, and browns. The subtle sound of leaves and twigs crunching beneath my feet. Watching squirrels busily scurrying around, doing their best to scrounge up the most nuts and bury them before winter could touch down leaving the ground frozen in its wake. Breathing deeply, I took in the sweet smell of freshly baked pies, a hint of decomposing leaves, and a sprinkle of spicy cinnamon. But overall, my favorite autumn memory is the abnormally large piles of leaves with feet sticking out. Wait...abnormally large piles of leaves with feet sticking out? As I turned a leafy corner, my eyes landed on a bench, or what was behind the bench. The pile of leaves let out a low growl that sounded more like a mix between a last breath, and someone’s attempt to call for help before they get strangled to death. I didn’t know what to think or do, but I knew one thing for sure: everything I did from then on would matter.
I crept closer to the pile and grabbed a long stick that happened to be laying nearby. I maneuvered the stick, using it as a shovel to uncover what, or who, lay beneath. This was my first mistake. Soon, I felt the stick hit something harder than the leaves, but too soft to be the ground. I could make out a vague silhouette of who was hiding in the leaves but couldn’t tell if they were someone I knew or not. That’s when I glanced down at the shoes the mystery person was wearing. Six-inch bedazzled denim heels embellished with zippers to make them look more like jeans. This was my second mistake. I have only seen those heels in two places. On my best friend Juliana’s feet, and at the back of my closet. Juliana Pereia has been my best friend, and basically my only friend since the first grade. I remember working weeks on those heels with her so she could wear them to an upcoming school dance. My hands were cramping, but seeing Juliana basically glowing on the dance floor with all the guys’ eyes on her, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing those sleepless nights were worth it. She surprised me two months later with a pair of my own, and we wore them whenever we saw each other. It broke my heart to imagine that Juliana Pereia could be the girl buried beneath the foliage.
I threw the stick aside and reached down, grasping one hand on her hip, the other supporting her back, and heaved her into my arms. This was my third mistake. Her mouth lay agape, turning into a pool of blood. That wasn’t the main wound though. My eyes drifted down to her torso and saw a large X carved deep across her chest down to her stomach. Seeing this all the blood drained from my face, and I turned as white as a ghost. Her body was growing heavier as more of her essence left her in the crimson liquid trickled down her perfect self onto the ground. That’s when I knew touching her had been a mistake. When the police found the body, my fingerprints would be all over her. But I didn’t care. This is Juliana Pereia, my best friend, the girl who always knew what to say, who would always go to bat for me, who let me cry on her shoulder. I will avenge her, no matter who or what I must go through to accomplish that.
Looking at Juliana’s body, I felt nothing but a burning sensation of anger. I laid her down, and when I was holding her hand for the last time as I prepared to dial 911, I felt a squeeze on my fingers. My head shot back to Juliana, and she opened her glossy eyes.
Tears formed in both our eyes as I whispered, “I will find who did this. I will avenge you.”
She gave a faint smile but pointed behind me with a shaking hand as she took her final breath, she said, “Run.”
I stood up and twirled around, but all I saw was a tree painted with red paint (that could also potentially be blood). The “paint” spelt out my name, “Dakota”, but there was another large X carved over my name in the tree. It gave me the chills, and I knew that wasn’t a good sign. Suddenly, I got that weird tingly feeling of being watched. I started spinning around aimlessly, trying to locate where the sensation was coming from. I got dizzy and stopped spinning, grounding myself where I was. My eyes landed on the trashcan. I stared at it until my brain cleared. There was something off about it. It had blazing red eyes in the slot where you put the trash. I glared at it, leaning closer and thinking my eyes were deceiving me. As I inched closer and closer, a flaming arrow whizzed past me, cutting my ear, but I didn’t notice. It hit the tree behind me, and the tree slowly but surely started to blaze. Though it pained me to leave Juliana like that, even if she was a corpse, I did what she would have wanted me to do: take her advice and run.
Silence
By Tess Volley
You share your heart
You share your pain
You get a scolding
You feel the rain
You apologize
You stay up
Wondering how to make it better
Then You realize
If you don't talk
You can't disappoint
You can't get corrected
You may not feel joy
But you’ll help others
The Girl on the Bench
By Emily Maietta
Every day I take a walk in the park. There is always this girl that is sitting on a bench. She is there every day. About a month after I had first noticed her, I walked over and sat down. She backed away from me really fast.
Back up. Before I go any further, I need to tell you about me and what my life is like. My name is Dani. I am 13 years old. I live in a penthouse. My dad is the mayor's assistant, and my mom is a countess. I am homeschooled because I was in a show for about a year. So, my parents decided to homeschool me because there was no way that I would be able to catch up to all the schoolwork that I had missed. They decided that our butler Bella could homeschool me. I also have a landline. Now that doesn’t seem like a lot now, but in 1987, that was like saying that I won the lottery.
She must have recognized me from all the ads in the paper about my dad because it was uncommon to have someone close to the mayor's position in your neighborhood. So, she must have been shy.
“Looks like you’ve been in a rough patch,” I said after noticing her scarred face.
“You have no idea,” she said. Then Adylyn told me the story of how she and her sister Ashley got kicked out of their house because they stolen from a store. But halfway to the bench where we were sitting right then, their mean aunt and uncle, took away Ashley from Adylyn because they had heard about them being kicked out. They had always loved Ashley way more than Adylyn. They left pretending she wasn’t even there. Adylyn remembered the promise that she and Ashley made. It was that if they were ever separated or one got taken away from the other, they would wait on the bench. So, she went there.
“And so,” Adylyn closed out, “I’ve been here ever since.”
I was just so confused.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“About four months.”
“FOUR MONTHS!!!!” I exclaimed. “We need to get Ashley out of there.”
Without hesitation, Adylyn told me where the window where she slept was so I could get her out without them knowing. When I got to the house, I climbed up the tree that was next to the window and knocked on it. She opened it. I explained everything and without any further explanation, she packed her bags and went out of the room through the window. When we got back to the park bench, Adylyn ran right to her.
After that they both moved in with me and my parents. It has been 38 years since, and we are still in touch
Space Realm
“What the…”
I scan my surroundings, my feet barely touching the newfound rocky terrain. Last I remembered, my mom was calling my sister, Dad, and I to dinner, and the next time I blinked, I was here, wherever here was. But my breath caught once I saw the sky around me. Everything was a mix of dark blues, deep purples, and other colors, with stars that seemed painted onto the sky wherever I looked. But the most gasp-worthy things there were the planets. I could see Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and the other planets making up our solar system. All of it surrounding the sun, a huge ball of flame, blindingly radiant. Funnily enough, as I looked around, I could see my hair floating around me, which made me conclude I had no spacesuit or helmet. Only my school uniform. That observation made me ponder the very important question of ‘Why am I not a dead body floating around in space?’ As I thought about this, it gave way to another question. If I can see all the planets in my system, then where the heck am I?
Missing
By Quinn Halloran
It's been five weeks since she disappeared. Five long weeks. No one’s heard from her, and there’s no trace of where she’s gone.
It all seemed like a normal day; Claire and I were sitting outside the local Starbucks, drinking our venti bobas and talking about everything, and anything.
“Who do you think put shaving cream on Avery’s sundae?” I asked, yawning and checking my phone.
“I don’t know; maybe that junior since he’s so mean!” Claire replied, stifling a contagious yawn. There was a small silence.
“Zoe, I think someone’s following me,” Claire said quietly, so quietly that I nearly didn’t hear her.
“No one’s following you, Claire. You’re just paranoid,” I had replied. Claire had mentioned a weird person in her room, out her window all the time, but I never really listened. It all just seemed like an overreaction to ordinary things. I wish I hadn’t brushed her off; I wish I had taken her seriously.
The next day, she wasn’t at school. I texted, but no reply.
She must have overslept, I thought, but a weird feeling was settling in my stomach, the kind that doesn’t mean you’re hungry. After 5 days, people started to worry. Her parents didn’t come out, didn’t reply to any calls, or texts. After a week had passed, they finally called me.
“I’m sorry, Zoe. She disappeared. We haven’t heard from her,” Mrs. Bramble’s voice cracked, and she sniffed. “Can you help us look? You knew her best.”
After hours, and hours, and hours of looking, we still knew nothing. The only thing we found was her room. It was a complete mess. It looked like someone had smashed the window, crawled in, and tried to knock her out. The bookshelves were on the floor, and her sheets were pulled off her bed. I heard a faint scream, Claire’s scream, loud and terrified.
“Don’t take me!” she was yelling.
I whipped around, nothing. I went home after that and cried silently with my mom, alone. I didn’t understand; who would take her? She was the kindest person I knew, and the smartest. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again. Then, he started following me. Out the window, in my room. Whispering words I couldn’t hear. I was terrified to leave my room, terrified to tell anyone. The months stretched out; no sign of her. But he still followed me, every day, everywhere. I never
knew who he was. I still don’t. The only thing I remembered from that day, June 12, 2025, was waking up, cold and sweating in the middle of the night. He was right there, and then I blacked out.
Now, I watch Claire from afar. She can’t see me or hear me. But she knows I’m there. When the man, Oliver Bramble (Claire’s father) had kidnapped me, he let her go and played the role of a relieved father. When he had me, he killed me. It took forever, each moment worse than the last, but finally it was done. I was a ghost, floating alone for 5 years, before I was set free. I made a deal with the devil, and he gave me my body back. Now, I have to do one thing that will restore me completely. Kill Oliver, or be killed trying.
Middle Name
By Juliette Barker
Hello. I’m Rae Addison Rala, and I have reason to believe my parents enjoyed dinosaurs. And reason to say middle names confuse me. Some initials spell funny things, like my friend Melissa’s, whose initials spell M.O.O. My initials are R.A.R. (Due to this (and the fact that I am on the older side of my class) people often call me dino.) Now, if it was only MY initials that had to do with dinos, it would be different. But my sister Rachel’s initials are R.A.W.R., which might just be even worse! And my brother Del has 4 middle names, the initials coming to D.I.N.O.! Pretty strange to me! But little did I know that this was no accident. My family had a very, VERY large secret. (As big as a tyrannosaurus rex!)
Imaginary Friends
By Chloé Young
Hi! Today I’m going to teach you about imaginary friends.
But first we must discuss advanced imaginary friends. Everyone had an imaginary friend as a kid. But what if I told you that you could have one as an adult as well? They are called advanced imaginary friends. Advanced imaginary friends can interact with the physical world in all kinds of ways!
But you must create them to have any contact with them. First, you must begin to envision their form. They come in all shapes and sizes. I must warn you that all your happy thoughts and envisions for your monster will turn grey and dark in a matter of seconds. Once that’s done, they’ll appear in your life in a matter of days.
Soon, you’ll realize there’s a presence following you. Once you confront this presence, say your name. If they aren't your imaginary friend, they’ll leave. If they are, they’ll stare. They won’t move, they won’t talk, just stare. If you begin to feel scared by their appearance...worry not! This is an ancient practice, dating back millennia. Once you have given them a form, ask them their name.
Now ask them if they are lying to you. You will need to learn their tells early on. Your advanced imaginary friend may become possessive of you. Though this is a sign that you two are bonding!
By possession, I mean soon those in your life will slowly start disappearing. They’ll reappear in your dreams with distorted faces. Soon you’ll only have your advanced imaginary friend. Anyone new that comes into your life will quickly disappear, leaving you with only one thing. Your imaginary friend will be the cause. After a while you’ll begin to feel lonely and they’ll start pressuring you to share things with them, personal things.
Do not share with them!
If you do end up sharing, just be cautious. You’re not the first and I fear you’re not the last to have an advanced imaginary friend. But now we need to talk in advance.
After a while they will begin to beg you to switch places with them. They will tell you that everyone is happy in Imagination Land. To try and convince you, they will control your dreams. It will take a night or two before you realize they’re controlling them. Once you do, a voice will call out to you, taking the form of those closest to you. They’ll infiltrate your dreams on a supernatural level. They fill your head with happy times in Imagination Land.
DO NOT LISTEN!
If they don’t accept your refusal...you must unfortunately banish them. But even if they are removed from the physical world, they have burrowed deeply into your psyche...forever visiting your dreams.
Forever haunting you, forever trying to convince you to switch.
DO NOT LISTEN!!
July 18, 2046
Things They Didn’t Cover in Astronaut Launch Prep School
By Grace Manning
Dear Diary, this was supposed to be a normal moonwalk??
#MY FIRST EVER ALP.S TRIPP, except I’m getting a little worried. The first time I stepped off the Apollo 33, the sudden change of gravity overwhelmed me. I freaked out; it was exhilarating in a way, almost like the first time I ever went on my first ever loopty-loop roller coaster. Just wait. It gets better!! (Or worse, I guess...).
Of course, Harper had to see this!! I yelled over my shoulder, mentioning that it would be, like, so much fun if she joined me.
Harper sighed in response, because of course she did. I knew she didn’t want to come out, but I also knew she would regret it. We had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to literally reach for the stars, and of course Harper was going to waste it, probably making some niche “cozy Earth-core, vintage pod” Pinterest board. That was just sooo her!!!
Harper peeked her head out of the hatch anyway, her phone still in one of her space gloves (pink, of course, just like everything Harper owned), thumb frozen mid-scroll—probably halfway through saving yet another photo of Earth-inspired hair styles or maybe “chic” pod decor.
I faked a laugh - but I did want Harper to join me. It would’ve probably left me in a better situation than now, but whatever. At least I’m having fun, right?
This is where things started to lead me south, and here I am. It was just so, next-level, letting my boots bounce a little farther off the lunar dust—okay, maybe more than a little. I leapt way past the safe perimeter markings, the kind that made the instructors (most likely Instructor Mika!!!) back home clutch their tablets in panic. Out here, it felt like I could go anywhere.
Even, maybe, the bottom of a crater. Whoops... As I’m writing this, all I see is the deep blue, galactic sky and the greyish, almost rugged walls around me. It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen Harper...
...which is probably not a good sign, considering her idea of a rescue mission involves a lot of yelling and maybe calling the Head Dean of Instructors. My communication pod is crackly, my tether’s twisted, and I’m pretty sure this crater wasn’t on the orientation map. Every sentence I write, the more worried I get. Sure, it was fun at first to have the whole world in front of you but.....
Surrender
By Tess Volley
A black hole
Grows within me
Eating my soul
And heart
I'm not as well as I claim to be
People say storm clouds subside
But why is it growing bigger?
My whisper of despair
Echoes of pain
The burdens are getting too heavy to bear
Then the choices come to your mind
You ask what are you good for
Would people even notice
If I left
You try to scream
But your head was drowning
In your thoughts
So, the destination comes to your mind
And as it happens
You hear the horror, screams, pain
But nothing matters when you’re gone
Words
By Tess Volley
Sticks and stones
May break my bones
But words will break my confidence
Words will linger in my head
Till I finally implode
Till who I am
Becomes who I was
All the pressure to be a legacy
A memory
To be enough
To win
But never can
After all what comes up must come down
Every good thing must come to an end
But what if it never starts?
They say words can't hurt you
You can't drown in your own tears
You won't remember the words once all is said and done
But words are like fingerprints
Permanently engraved in your mind
Because words become beliefs
Once you’re forced to start believing them
The One
By Tess Volley
That one, the one
Have you ever found that someone
Who makes you feel like you’re floating
On top of the world
And then leaves with no explanation?
Pretends like its fine, like nothing ever happened
The echoes of promise
Now drift away
Lost in the wake
The words turn into shards
Each tear that falls shows the bitter ending Of love
Fragments of you hear
Shatter for them to step on
When all you ever wanted
Was them
Door
By Sophie Harris
The gates open wide, waiting for you
Just like a door But
What if I don't want that door to open?
What if I don't want you to go?
What if I seal that door shut to keep out the cold?
But it's not cold, you tell me as you go to open it
It's almost summer
But what if it not for me?
What if it's a reminder?
What if I can't forget that day in summer I thought you said goodbye?
What if we hold on a little longer and stay inside?
What if I can't speak my feelings because I am too weak?
What if it feels like a thousand hands are covering my mouth as I try to scream?
As I telling you to stop
But I am too late
I watch as you go
But you leave that door open
Just for hope as stand there waiting for you
At that door
Waiting for
You to come home
The twisting, turning dangerous mines, loom ahead creating an ominous feeling. It swirled in my stomach. I knew it was risky, but the adrenaline I built up from flying underwater with sharks, whales, and the Kraken is still pumping. I need to exert it in some way. I take a grounding breath, and take the first step in. Who knows what’s hiding inside or around the next bend? Not me, but I’m ready to face it.
An Excerpt from “The Royal Killers”
By Ceci Piccone
Orianna
I didn’t mean to want to kill her. But maybe I did. You see, Esmerelda is a bright girl but so, so much prettier than I am. I, her mother, Queen Orianna, sent out an assassin to kill her, but he came back with the heart of a deer. What a fool I was trusting him. I’d have to do it myself. I know what you are thinking, but you are wrong. This is nothing like Snow White. No, it is much more. It all started when she was born...
“Oh, Ori, she’s beautiful!” I heard my sister Ophelia exclaim.
I had to admit my first daughter was adorable. We made our way through the years, and by her 7th birthday, she was as beautiful as an emerald gem. Everyone adored her, and next to her I looked like and old ugly witch. I stood there smiling, but inside I was about to shoot a gun. And that gave me the idea. On her 18th birthday, I would send her out to “pick flowers and berries” for a “special occasion”. But it won’t actually be a special occasion for everyone. No, just for her and me.
Oh my gosh. I can’t take it anymore! It’s only been 2 years, and I am not very patient. I know I’m a queen, but this is different. She just keeps getting more and more beautiful over time. UGH. Esmerelda is up on stage singing a very beautiful song I recognize. The very song I sang when I was a little princess just like her. Great. Now she has a prettier voice too?! She is driving me crazy, and I want to do something about it sooner. I can't. But I must remind myself that the more beautiful she is, the more pleasing it is to kill her.
Esmerelda
As I walked through the fields, I heard my mother calling me to come inside. I wanted to refuse, but I didn’t want my mother to know. You see, I thought all mothers were supposed to be caring. But mine wasn't. I knew I was only eight, but I thought I had time to change her. Just kidding! I scooped up a handful of yellow flowers and went inside. I couldn't let my mother know I was planning to kill her.
On my 18th birthday, I would go out to the fields and pick some flowers. I would tell my mother I had arranged a special occasion so she wouldn't get suspicious. But I would actually go out to prepare a trap. It was like I was going to blow up the edge of the mountain. I would set up a little table, an old one, as if we were having a tea party. I would sit her down and tell her I would be right back. I would actually head over to the control and push the button. The mountain would blow up.
I was so happy I screamed. But Mother just yelled at me. I grabbed my flowers and went inside thinking ‘How lucky I am!”. If she thought I was a terrible daughter that was all about to change.
I walked into the kitchen and put the flowers in a vase. My mother was in a meeting as usual. She never had time for me. It was as if she hated me. But then she would be lying. Every night, before bed, she would come in and kiss me on the cheek. She would tell me ‘Goodnight’ and ‘I love you’. But she walked away with a sort of annoyed face.
“Esmerelda!”
Eek! What was that?! Oh. Mother.
“What took you so long?! I had been waiting for you to come in so we could have supper.”
“Sorry, Mother. I got lost for a minute; you see, there were many beautiful butterflies out today and I just...”
“No excuses. Now sit; we have to eat so you can do your chores.”
Sigh. I knew what I had to do, so I went out to wash the windows. As I walked to the door, I heard my mother call to me ‘go faster or no desert!’ That woman is driving me mad. But I know, the more annoying she gets, the more pleasing it is to kill her.
Ophelia
“Opi!” I hear my sister Orianna call to me. “Let’s go! We have to get ready for Esmerelda’s 12th birthday party.”
I love my sister, and she loves me, but she wants to kill her daughter. Like, that’s really bad parenting. No, that’s plain evil! Anyways, my sister tried to push me into a river with a waterfall at the end when we were younger, so whatever way she goes, I will defend my niece.
“Aunt Opi!” I hear my niece call to me. Before I know it, she’s running into my arms. I must tell her, but I need to tell her when she’s a bit older. If I tell her now, she could spill the secret to her mother, and I could die. Maybe when she’s 15 I could tell her. But for now, she’s going to have to deal with her mother until I can tell her.
Her mother thinks she’s with her, but is she really? I can’t believe her mother could just leave her at their home in Paris and then come back saying she just went out to the market. It's like she doesn't even care! I do hope Esmerelda can figure out our plan quickly. I don’t know how much longer I could keep up with being on her mother’s side. All that’s left to do is figure out where on the mountain would be best.
“Aunt Opi!!!!”
I have to go. We must get this plan finished, memorized, and hidden where her mother will never find it. The more obnoxious she is, the more pleasing it will be to help her daughter kill her.
How does she do it? Little Esmerelda has just figured out how to make an explosive and she’s only 13! She’s preparing for the occasion. I do think I might miss her mother a bit. Either way, as long as Esmerelda doesn’t fall in love, then all will be okay. If she falls in love, she could easily forget about the whole thing. She may no longer want to kill her wretched mother. She may no longer remember the plan. As long as she’s here for the next eight years, she won’t fall in love, and all will be okay. Hopefully. Love could ruin everything...
“Aunt Opi! I just met the most wonderful boy!” I hear Esmerelda exclaim. “His name is Thomas, and I want to introduce him to you!”
Oh no, I thought. Now she's got herself in a big problem. I knew one day she'd find someone like this. I hope she doesn't fall in love with him and-
"Aunt Opi, can I spend the day with him? He's moving tomorrow, and I want him to have the best last day possible," I hear Esmerelda ask me.
"Well, alright. But we haven't much time left in the day, so we better hurry," I said. I guess it would be alright if he was moving, as long as he doesn't return. He seems like a charming boy, but he could stop her from the plan. We have to keep him at a distance, or else the whole plan could blow up.
An Excerpt from “The Emerald Assassin”
A Scholastic Gold Key Winner
By Bella Kastendike
As I bribe my own guards with five silver coins, my mind races with the possible outcomes of my venture. Outcome number one: everything goes according to plan. Outcome number two: I get killed. Hopefully, my bribe was enough to keep my guards from informing my husband. I dart to the stables and board my grey and white Camargue called Persephone, and soon we start our journey to the city.
I feel my hair blowing in the warm, autumn breeze and smell the leaves falling from the trees. As we rode, I thought to myself about why I must complete this task and why I must be inconspicuous. It would mean the life and forgiveness of my citizens; he is corrupt and unforgiving. He is not truly kind to me either. He yells at me, hurts me, and blames me for things I cannot control. His death would mean the reign of a righteous ruler, me.
I must do this, and I must not get caught.
I take Persephone down long, winding, roads until I see the outline of the city in my view. I enter the town and see a tiny community stable where I leave her in a small, wooden stall. I grab my cloak and use the dark hood to cover my waist-length, white-blonde hair. This town is somewhere I cannot afford to be spotted.
Someone would inform him.
I sprint through the crowded, stifling bazaar bursting with stands and wagons full of goods. The sound of my citizens floods my ears, and the smell of fresh bakery bread fills my nose. I look around for a sign of where to go. I twist and turn through alleyways made of stone hoping to find a vender who can help me with my meticulous task. I know I have arrived when the alleyways turn dark, and cold, with a stench I cannot place.
Blood.
The air tastes of salt from the nearby ocean, and mold from the moist stone. The sound of my citizens bargaining and trading slowly disappears from my ears the farther I go down the alley. I race to the farthest corner of the alley where a large room lies. It is carved out of the stone walls with colorful scarves that almost act like a curtain. Surely to disguise the room inside as a regular shop. However, this is not a normal store. I slowly peek my head through an opening in the scarves hanging from the ceiling to see a young man, about 20 years old, sharpening a long machete.
I suddenly feel uneasy about this decision, the air becomes stuffier, and I get more nervous. I grip my silver knife strapped to my thigh and trace the engraving of the Royal Crest with my calloused fingers. The emerald dragon carved
into my knife is the crest of my kingdom, the Kingdom of Aeloria. Its roots date back to the origins of the kingdom long before my reign. The familiar feeling puts me at ease.
This knife was attached to a prophecy, one said to be about a daughter of Ivys the Chosen, the wielder of dragons. After the battle that created my Kingdom, Ivys was wounded. He knew he was not going to make it, so he sent his dragons to an eternal sleep atop Mount Mirsun. They sleep there until the daughter of Ivys, the Chosen, becomes of age and realizes her power over the world. I stand daydreaming and forget that I have a job to do.
The room is large with many candles illuminating its walls like the blazing sun in the sky. There are several tiny, uncomfortable looking seats and a compact table with a variety of sharp weapons and tools on it. The man puts down his machete and starts to sharpen a smaller bronze knife, so I feel slightly safer. I step inside and remove my cloak, revealing my identity.
“What brings you here, Blondie?” the young man says.
His hardened silver eyes stare at me almost playfully. He looks at me like he doesn’t know who I am, which is strange. Perhaps he doesn’t know who I am; it’s better that way. You would think one of my subjects would know his queen. His hair is mahogany brown and silky. It is awfully clean for a commoner who works with knives for a living. I forget that he asked me a question.
“I said, ‘What brings you here?’” he repeats.
At first, I was not sure what to answer. I had never thought that I would have to take my problems to an assassin to solve them.
I take a deep, shaky breath and say, “I need you to kill the king.”
Loving Arms
A Scholastic Honorable Mention
By Bella Dana
I remember what happened the first day I met him. I had missed my bus ride home and was stuck out in the rain. I felt little droplets course down my face like tears. But then, they stopped almost immediately. As I looked up, I saw a black umbrella over my head, and I tried to see who was holding it. It was a boy, his shoulder-length red hair flying into his face with the wind, his golden eyes looked like they were colored by the lightning. He had a sheepish grin on his face, alongside a tiny blush along his cheeks.
“You look like you needed this,” he said, smiling.
“Thanks,” I replied with a smile of my own.
“You’re welcome. Anyway, what’s your name?”
“Amelia, yours?”
“David. Amelia’s a beautiful name.”
I laughed. “So is David.”
Soon, we began to have a full-blown conversation, and it seemed like seconds later that he had me in his arms, the two of us rushing towards his large house, the lights showing us the way, with David trying to hold both me and the umbrella at the same time, hurrying to open the door. Once we were inside, he led me into his art studio, sitting me down on the comfiest chair known to man. We continued talking about our lives, our stories. He worked as an engineer, but painted in his spare time, and let me tell you, by looking around at the walls, he was good. I told him about my job as a barista at a little café, and he gave me a slight smile.
What was that about? I asked myself.
We were getting closer by the second, the two of us holding hands in the middle of the table with him sometimes brushing my lightly colored hair out of my face. I started to lose track of time as I looked into those golden eyes. I could see my reflection in them, and I will not lie, I looked extremely stupid.
I decided to look somewhere else, so as to not look weird. He’d probably tell me to get out of his house if I continued to look at him like an idiot. So, I decided to cast my eyes to the balcony. And to my surprise, it stopped raining. I could finally see the sky, pitch-black, and dotted with little stars. The rain started in the early evening, which meant that a few hours must have passed while David and I talked. I knew I had to get going, so I went to get off the chair, but then David stood up.
“Where’re you going? Isn’t it still raining out?”
“No,” I said. “It stopped, and it’s way late. So, I have to go soon.”
“Oh.”
David looked kind of disappointed, to say the least, with his arms laying limp at his sides, and his eyes were downcast, giving them a sad glow. He fiddled with the hood on the back of his black jacket until he shrugged it off, revealing a white tank top nearly covered with paint, dried and wet, with it showing off his muscles.
And he goes to the gym? Sheesh. I thought.
“I was wondering,” David started, blushing profusely. “Amelia, have you…ever been…kissed?”
I felt myself start blushing alongside him, my purple sweater starting to itch at my skin, and sweat started dripping down my forehead. I pulled a croissant out of my pocket and nibbled at it. It tasted a bit staler than last time I took a bite.
“I-uh-no. Never have. Why’re you asking?”
Did he want to kiss me? Holy crap we just met a few hours ago, what is going on? I stressed.
“Uh, I haven’t either. That’s it.”
Sure, David. He’s definitely lying. Multiple girls have probably swooned over him.
The two of us just sat, staring at each other. So, I walked over to the door, ready to leave, but before I reached towards the handle, I turned back toward David, who stared at me, seemingly waiting for something.
“Goodbye David.”
“Bye-bye, Amelia. It was nice meeting you.” His voice was low and sullen.
I nodded and turned the handle. But nothing happened. I stopped, then tried again. I probably didn’t turn it hard enough. But still nothing. I turned toward David, watching him stand there and stare at me.
“David, the door won’t open. Can you…?”
He still said nothing. Rolling my eyes, I began kicking at the door, ready to break it down if I had to. It didn’t budge. I was ready to run my shoulder into it, when David suddenly walked over to me and grabbed my arm, taking me back to my chair and sitting me down roughly. It now felt like I was sitting on needles with David sitting down in front of me, fear crashing over me like a tidal wave.
“David…”
“I don’t want you to go yet,” he said, as if it were as simple as counting to ten.
“But I need to go-” I nearly yelled.
“Not yet.” His red hair seemed flamelike, his eyes like a predator finally catching up to its food.
Scared, I scrambled from the chair and began to back away from David. What is wrong with him? I asked myself, biting my tongue until I tasted copper. I felt a cool wind brush my back, making me shiver, and knew I had just stepped onto the balcony. David stood up and started to walk towards me, his footsteps like thunder.
“Amelia…”
“LET ME GO HOME!” I screamed like an animal had been let loose.
“But I can keep you safe,” David promised, his voice soothing. “From everyone.”
I stepped back even further, my back hitting the balcony
Of course! I could jump!
I turned away from David, and prepared to leap, but two arms curled around my waist.
Shoot
David turned me around gently so I could meet his eyes and crushed my lips against his. I squirmed as his lips moved down to my neck, then shoulder, down my arm, to my hand. The scent of paint overwhelmed my senses, nearly drowning me. I couldn’t take it anymore.
With a loud cry, I slammed my foot between his legs, and watched as he let me go, clutching his crotch area. Not wasting another second, I jumped off the balcony and began to run home as fast as I could, with David watching my every step.
By Bella Dana
“Iris?” Aaron called out into the dark.
Iris, his girlfriend, had run off again. So, he looked through the woods near her house, where she usually went to scare him. A cool breeze went down his neck, as he avoided sharp branches, scratching at his leather jacket.
“Aaron….” A soft voice hummed.
“Iris! Come out, we need to order food for movie night!”
All he heard afterwards was melodic laughter, which he decided to follow. After a long period of running through the woods, after Iris’s voice. But soon, he came across a lake that he and Iris used to randomly swim in, even though they weren’t supposed to.
“Iris, please, we don’t have time for this!”
Soon, Aaron saw a glimpse of a female figure in the water, swimming in circles. She had short blonde hair, and eyes as green as the leaves in spring. Iris. She looked up from swimming, and grinned, her smile lighting up the entire world.
“Heyyyyy Aaron! You wanna swim?”
He wanted to scoop her out of the water, and bring her inside, but he found he couldn’t say it. What was happening? Iris lifted a hand to his, holding it tightly.
“It’ll be okay! We do this all the time!”
“But-” he felt something shift. “Yeah, we do.”
Aaron felt himself moving towards the water, and Iris’s grinning face. He never decided to start moving and felt puppeted by an unknown force.
“Come on Aaron!” Her voice was light and carefree, and he wished he could feel the same.
Soon the two were completely submerged and couldn’t come back up. While Aaron was drowning, it dawned on him.
I never knew an Iris
By Elena Maggioni
I jump up and smile optimistically. I see desert, more desert and... surprise! More desert!
Ok, let me explain; my parents went missing during the genocide of Bosnia. When the tension was still rising in my area, my parents sent me away to France. But in the night, the carriage master left me in the desert, considering my current situation. I thought and started walking towards what seemed like a huge boulder, which seemed in the same direction my carriage was going. I get nearer and nearer until I stop in my tracks. I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the blazing sun. There was no denying it; it was Pride Rock from The Lion King. What?! But I don’t remember it being so dry in the Pride Lands. I surveyed my surroundings, a lot of sand, no water, and no animals. I look back at Pride Rock and squint.
No, that can’t be true; I just saw it! But now it’s gone. I turn around.
“Ahh!” I jump; figures surround me, their hoods shadow their faces. One steps forward and stands defiantly; she throws off her hood.
“Mom?!” I shout to her, confused, but then it hits me. Can I really trust her, or is this my imagination like Pride Rock. I step towards her cautiously, reach out my hand and tap her on the shoulder. She feels real, but my realistic side of my brain argues, “She popped out of nowhere, she isn’t talking, somehow, she found you in an abandoned desert. Why are you believing this?”
She tilts down her chin, and stares at me, as if in a trance, and states with no emotion in her voice, “Follow me.”
She stalks off. The other cloaked figures fade away. She walks toward a cliff and turns around with a little smirk on her thin lips; she’s waiting for me. It’s tempting, too tempting. I take a tentative step forward; nothing happens. I continue, when I reach her side, I look down. The deep gorge sems to go on forever, mist enshrouds the bottom; well, as far as I can see. My mother, unfazed, takes a step forward. I gasp, my hand flies to my mouth, but she walks as easily and nonchalantly, as if she totally wasn’t walking in midair. She stops smack in the middle of the terrifyingly large gorge. She looks back, she stares into my eyes with her piercing, ice-blue eyes. Her gaze says, “Yes, take the chance, trust me.” But my head argues,” No, you can’t trust her, she is a fake.” Is she just my imagination, or is she something more; is she real? I don’t know how long I stood there, but long enough to overpower all my other feelings. A sense of peace overcomes my body; I close my eyes... breathe... And I take the step into the emptiness.
The Jungle
The Prophecy of the Jungle
From a village to a cave
A plane, the need to be brave
A hidden castle
A dungeon hassle
In the forest peaks
The prophecies speak
An Excerpt from “Dance of the Belladonna”
By Bella Dana
“How did you....” He pointed at me, his eyebrows quirked.
Soon, as his surprise heightened, I could feel the demon king losing his grip on me. I could move my limbs, and, without saying anything, knew that I could speak my mind once more. So, obviously, I used this to my advantage. With the stalactite I had picked up on the demon king’s mission to murder Ophelia, I charged towards him once more and jabbed him in the chest, black blood pouring from the opening.
I looked behind me to check on Ophelia, and to my dismay, she was still on the ground, immobile. Was she...? I couldn't think about it, so, with a heavy heart, I turned back to the demon king. Fear swirled around in his eyes, until he looked where I did, and the fear turned into triumph.
“It seems that you regained control too late.” He coughed, whilst trying to snicker. “You’ve done my will, and the angel will not return.”
The words I killed her were ringing in my head, making it all I could hear. My breathing became quicker as I realized the fact. Ophelia is gone because of me. The Demon King, with blood dripping down his chin, was saying something, but no sound was uttered from his lips. Until I heard a grunt, and more cruel laughter, as I looked down to see one of his spikes driven into my abdomen.
“If I die, you die with me. Simple as that!” he sneered.
Blood was pouring from my wound, mixing into the black blood pooling at the Demon King’s chest. A voice in my head began screaming at me, and the worst part was, I recognized it to be Ophelia’s. I could see her image, clear as day, looking as if I had betrayed her.
“You killed me.” she said softly, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Ophelia, I-”
“Just like the first time. It was your fault then, and it’s your fault now.” Her blue eyes were filled with tears. “It should’ve been you, stuck inside that statue. You didn’t try hard enough. You’re the reason I’m dying!”
The final word slammed into me as if it were a brick wall. Not due to the tons of sorrow it tugged along with it, but instead, it caused the realization to settle in. You’re the reason I’m dying Not dead. Ophelia is still alive.
But as I tried to look behind me once more, the sheer amount of movement caused me to collapse onto the cavern floor. With my vision tunneling, I could see the faint outline of my blood moving towards Ophelia. As I closed my eyes, I thought about all that had happened; When I first met Ophelia, when she fought with the Demon King, when the Demon King made a deal with me, when I hid in the house where Belladonna lived now, when she found me bleeding out after I had been looking for the statue, all the times that we had been pissing each other off, meeting ‘Thorn’, when
Belladonna let Ophelia take control, when I realized the demon king took my soul, when I almost killed Ophelia, when I stabbed the Demon King, and when he stabbed me back.
“I love you....Ophelia...and...I’m sorry...” I muttered, almost unsure that I had even said those words.
“CALYX!” I heard Ophelia scream.
I quickly opened my eyes to see her standing over me, a look of worry painted on her face. Besides the purple bruises my hands had given her, she seemed to be alright. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“You’re alright...” I groaned.
“And you’re not! Get up! Thorn’s getting up for some reason, and you can’t die before he does! NOW MOVE IT, JERK!”
Her tone of voice startled me into sitting up, which was a horrible idea. I squinted at Ophelia, to realize the serene look in her eyes was gone. As I did, I heard Ophelia speak to me in my mind, saying: I’m letting her back in, and...I love you too. Please don’t be too hard on yourself, and just know, I’ll always be watching you. And with that, her voice was gone, and Belladonna was staring at me as if I belonged in a house for the mentally ill.
An Excerpt from “A Broken Girl’s Perseverance”
By Joshika Banerjee
My life is getting crazier and crazier by the day. First, I agreed to help my best friend catch a psychopathic murderer. Then, I left her when she needed me most. Now, I’m on a plane to Italy with my best friend and FBI agents, trying to catch the same psychopathic murderer!
Our flight was scheduled to land in the morning. I was sitting in the window seat, with Summer by my side. Agent Zoe was sitting in the aisle seat, and behind us, Liliana and Agent Carlos were sitting next to each other.
I changed positions, trying to get into one that was comfortable to sleep in. However, sleep just wouldn’t come to me. Anxiety was bubbling up in me, I could hear Agent Carlos snoring like a grandpa behind me, and so many babies were screaming their heads off. It seemed impossible to get any shut eye here!
I looked around and saw Summer flipping through a book about basic Italian phrases. She would look at the book for a minute or two before saying them out loud.
“You know, I think most people in Italy can speak English,” I casually told her.
She gave me a death stare before responding, “Well, you can never be too prepared. Besides, I don’t want the locals to think I’m some ignorant tourist who hasn’t even bothered to learn basic phrases of their language.”
Agent Zoe chuckled and gave Summer a playful nudge.
“I don’t think that they would say that about you, dear,” she said.
Summer simply shrugged her shoulders before getting back to her book.
My eyes started feeling heavy, so I reclined my seat and closed my eyes, praying for sleep to come quickly.
Before I knew it, we had arrived in the grand city of Milan. As soon as the plane parked at the gate, all of us grabbed our bags and hurriedly exited the plane.
“Where are we going?” I loudly asked as we ran through the airport after clearing Immigration.
“I don’t know, but it seems as if Agent Zoe knows where she’s going!” Liliana replied.
Soon, we were outside of the terminal, but we didn’t have a way of leaving the airport. It was a windy day, and my loose reddish-brown hair was flying all over the place.
A few minutes later, Summer found a taxi and yelled, “Qua!”
The taxi driver pulled over, and it felt very crammed with four people sitting in the back, but I knew I shouldn’t complain about that right now. Summer gave the driver some more instructions in Italian before he started driving insanely fast.
“Now can you please tell me where in the name of Christopher Columbus we’re going?” I exasperatedly asked.
“We’re going to the Ostello Bello Milano Duomo Hotel. Agent Zoe got a call from someone who claimed they saw Craig there. They’ll go up to him and pretend that they’re tourists, and then we’ll arrest him,” Summer explained. “Hopefully, this will be the end of a very long journey.”
The 20-minute drive felt more like 2 minutes, and before I knew it, we were in front of the most magnificent hotel I had ever seen in my life. I marveled at it for a few seconds before Summer urgently grabbed my arm.
“Come on, Autumn,” she urged. “We can look at architecture later.”
While Agent Carlos was checking in, Agent Zoe, Liliana, Summer, and I were waiting in the lobby. There, Agent Zoe met up with Agents Randall and Nancy, whom she introduced us to.
Suddenly, Summer pointed at a man and yelled, “There he is!”
I quickly turned around and saw the ominous figure of Craig turning around and placing his gaze on us.
The 4 FBI agents ran after him as quickly as cheetahs, with Summer quickly following along.
“Wait up, Summer!” I called out as I hurried after her.
The chase lasted for about a minute before Agent Zoe finally pinned Craig down. He looked at all of us with pleading eyes before they landed on Summer. As soon as they did, the fear in those icy-blue eyes of his was replaced with relief.
“Summer! It’s you! Please tell these people just how insane they are!” he pleaded.
Summer examined him, and then it looked as if something dawned on her. Her emerald-green eyes widened in realization, and she looked as if she had made a stupid mistake.
“Alan?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”
Klutz
Briskblunder
By Juliette Barker
Hello! I’m Klutz Briskblunder. I know what you’re thinking, and at this point, I know: I got stuck with a terrible last name. (And nickname, actually.) I’m not clumsy! (Never mind. Take that back… I just fell. Again. But it’s also quite hard not to fall when you’re stuck in a planky prison cell with gaps between each board! People say I’m going to be forced to do a TIGHT ROPE! I think that they know I have absolutely no sense of balance and want to get a good laugh as I make “ahhhh” and “whoa” sounds, teetering and wobbling! But hey, I’ve only fallen 12 times today, and that’s a personal record! I can do it! Nope. Fell again. I’m done for. 13 is still a personal record, though! Is 13 an unlucky number? I better fall again, just in case.) Not only do I have a strange last name, but my nickname also expresses my clumsiness too. As I said, Klutz. That’s a name you literally call a clumsy person! Anyway, as I search for an escape and plot my master…well…plot. I’ll tell you the whole story. I would also like to give a little pointer that my sister Lissom is much more… nimble. She’s coming for me. (Probably?) She told me right before I got taken away. I don’t doubt her. Alright! Let’s begin. This story begins… last Friday.
Last Friday, I was basically just chilling. Sneaking around in an… unstealthy… way. Let me give a quick and basic run-through of the noises I made: ACHOOO! “Dust, dust, DUST! Whoahhhhh! Who put those stairs there?!?” Clank, clang, crash, BOOM! “Oh no! My smoke bomb! I CAN’T SEE! Ouch! That was a pipe! OOF!” Okay. You get the point now, right? No? Fine. I also tripped over the foot of the person I was supposed to be spying on, fell out of the window into a bush, and ran into a wall. To be fair, I think I’m losing my eyesight. (Probably from crashing into the walls so many times.) Anyway, it’s no surprise I got caught. So basically, they threw me in a prison cell, and I’ve been here for a day. (And in case you’re wondering, yeah. It’s boring and annoying and too close to all the other cells I’ve been kept in. And yes, I’ve been caught multiple times. People always say not to quit, but that’s hard when you… do not excel at your skill set.) All right then. That’s everything in my backstory, although I had to leave out some sounds I made. This story would have taken decades to tell if I had said all of them! Oh! My sister’s here! I can’t tell, but I think she’s gesturing for me to come down. I need to get closer.
I lean out the window to get a closer look (since that is CLEARLY the sensible thing to do!), but… I shouldn’t. I topple forwards and forget that I am currently a hostage.
“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” I screech. Then, I black out. At least 2 windows a week is my new record.
When I wake up, I’m on an infirmary bed. Turns out, I got unlucky this time and didn’t land on a bush. Instead, I landed on a big stone. No wonder it hurt so much more than the other times I’ve fallen! Unfortunately, the guards caught me and brought me to the lord’s hospital wing, so I guess I still have to do the tightrope. They didn’t catch Lissom, though! Although I’m pretty sure she won’t try to save me again. She had gestured for me to stay up in my cell. I definitely misinterpreted that one. Welp, wish me luck on the rope. I’ll need it.
Doppelganger
By Juliette Barker
“That is not Ginger. That is DEFINITELY a doppelganger!” Stacy whispered.
Illithios shook his head. “Look, Stace. You’re not seeing reason. I’m not stupid; you are!”
Stacy sighed. He really is dumb. He’s 15! You’d think he would have noticed by this point that “illithios” in Greek literally means stupid!
Illithios continued. “That’s like saying that that donkey over there is a horse!”
Stacy sighed again. “Illithios, that’s a goat.”
Illithios didn’t seem bothered. “That’s what I said. Another example, that snake over there is a dragon.”
Stacy turned around. “Illithios… that is a dragon!”
Stacy began to run. Illithios followed.
“Stace, you’re imagining things. That is not a dragon!”
He spotted something. “Ooh, another example! Saying Ginger is a doppelganger is like calling a…”
Stacy interrupted. “Saying Ginger isn’t a doppelganger is like saying you are smart: since you being smart is most definitely FALSE!”
“Harsh.” Illithios complained. “But I get it!”
Illithios ran as Ginger became a faceless mannequin. “But then… where’s real Ginger?”
“There!” Stacy yelped, looking toward the dungeon. It was time to save Ginger.
Personification at Its Highest Point
By Juliette Barker
The tree monster began to grumble.
“No one pass this part of the forest! That is... alive!” Crystal smirked.
It was time for the big weapon. SARCHASM!
“Wooooooooow. A talking tree. Soooooo scary.”
The tree sneered and retorted, “Your ATTITUDE is really scary.”
Crystal knew what to say next. “Seriously. What’s next? Talking MOUNTAINS?”
“Hey! That’s mean!” The mountain sniffled. Crystal then realized: that was Mount Everest!
“Well, in this case, personification really is at its highest!” Crystal said.
Step into a darker time when everyone’s mouths were sealed. First, they came for the Jews, but now everyone is in fear. Hiding in between the shadows just to survive, just to see the dim light of tomorrow. The people outside don’t understand this battle; they don’t see what goes on behind the screen. False information injected into their brains, they look at us like we are the problem. Our bodies, no longer ours, we are tattooed, marked, like we are animals. The world is divided, the world on the brink of destruction. And who’s to blame but us?
Stepping into a period we promised would never happen again. Stepping into a period when we didn’t know what was happening. We were told we were going to a community with people like us. Little did we know it was a trick, and we fell for it. Our brothers and sisters killed, we never got to say goodbye; we never even knew.
Like Dominoes, They Fall
By Elisa Gangemi
They fall like dead bodies
At least that is what Kurt said
But it is hard to argue
Since it makes the most sense
No one can stop them from falling
Not even Hans’s piece of bread
One by one they go
Through the streets for everyone to see
However, when one of them falls
There is no stopping the rest
Like dead bodies they fall
Into the flames that will burn them all
The Fall of the Jews
By Ella McDermond
The first domino falls
The first Jew dies
A butterfly effect
The Führer in their eyes
1 Jew
2 Jews
3 Jews Killed.
The dominos are falling
Graves being filled
They won’t stop falling
Until all of them are down
It won’t be over
Until Hitler is crowned
Until the dominoes are laid out on the floor
Pleading for mercy, deserving more
The tower in the middle falls to its knees
The Jews are dead Hitler’s at ease
The Invisible String
By Alex Lloyd
It started with A girl
A Jew
A man
The girl was born poor
The Jew destined to a life behind a door
The man would play a key role in their fates
When the girl was orphaned, it opened her life gates
The girl befriended the Jew She took him in and fed him stew
The Jew left because of the man He left the girl and ran
The girl, the Jew and the man
All doing the best they can
sky, stars, and me
By Madisyn Lubitz
it is my distraction from this nightmare below/ the only thing that keeps me moving/ keeping me everywhere all at once/ as war tells me, get it done, get it done/ but at times i don’t want to/ the sky being a force of optimism even if the rest of the world isn’t/ a bright patch in a dark room/ payday after the hard work/ keeps me alive even though i'll never die/ because despite all the strife going on/ the world keeps moving/ keeps running running running/ get it done, get it done. if we were to live in the sky/ the clouds/ we would realize how our wars are meaningless/ fighting like we didn’t even evolve/ and there is a universe stretched before us where there is no propaganda/ just sky/ just stars/ just me/ and we were fine with that/ until humans existed/ and they had the ability to die/ the sky is whatever it wants/ free from the chains of society/ it is whatever color it wants/ on the entire spectrum/ unless it is the color of suffering. humanity is perpetually on vacation/ ignoring what it wants/ seeing what it wants/ doing what it wants/ as if there isn’t the sky the stars and me/ what a shame/ keeps suffering happening more/ more wars/ more wars/ more wars/ more work for me/ the deaths a conveyer belt stretching to infinity/ so many of them to claim/ but at least the sky is there for me/ it always will/ i will always be distracted/ now until forever.
The Collision of Worlds
By Rina Waweru
Why was my life so wrong compared to theirs? They told us they know how life is meant to be lived and that we didn’t, but then why did they take the village men and took all the women and children to the camps?
The day they came was the day before Mumbi's wedding, my favorite older sister. All the young men and women had spent the previous days preparing to escort Mumbi to the neighboring village the day after her wedding. My parents had received a cow as her dowry from the parents of her soon-to-be husband. Out of nowhere, people that did not look like us had showed up at the chief’s hut. They had arrested him and proceeded to take away all the village men and all our animals. Not even the cow my parents had just received was spared. I loved that cow, but they also took it away, and now all my people from our village were either gone or on the verge of death. They worked us day and night in the coffee plantation, picking the berries until our hands bled and feet ached. That wasn’t even the worst. One day my mama fell seriously ill, and they refused to help her. I begged and begged, but that just got me beaten, and that night, they took her away while I was sleeping, and I never saw her again. They told us that our God was not the true God, our customs were backward, and our food was disgusting. I did not believe them. My people and I had lived vibrant lives full of life and laughter until they came. But now, here I was, twelve years old, with a broken soul while I watched the master's young daughter order my elders around and get them punished if she does not get her way. A life of evil and oppression.
The Light Realm
Happy Times
When I spend time with family,
When I play with my pet,
When I have family movie nights,
When I take a walk in the park
When I have a good dream,
When I read a good book
When I ace a test
When I find a four-leafed clover,
When I hang out with my friends,
When I pray to my Father in heaven,
I am truly happy.
What If?
By Quinn Halloran
“You are a bunch of small-minded little lizards,” Darkstalker growled, casting a dark look at his mother. He stared at the strawberry and crushed it in his claws. Small pieces of mushy paper were visible through the Nightwing’s huge talons.
“No,” Moon whispered, touching her claws to her head. “That, no, that wasn’t supposed to-”
Moon closed her eyes and slowly crumpled to the floor. Darkness crept in as Moon felt a new vision coming in, coming fast. A vision of Darkstalker, leading the NightWings back into battle against a couple of badly hurt IceWings. Qibli with dark magic coming out of his claws, dragons screaming in front of him.
“Darkstalker, please, darling. I want to raise you. I’ll do better this time,” Foeslayer pleaded, clasping her talons together, her voice shaking.
“Moon, what’s wrong?” Qibli crouched down beside her, resting his wing lightly on her back.
“We need to stop him, now,” Moon said, raising her head and turning toward Foeslayer. Before anyone could blink, or before Moon could say anything, Darkstalker pinned Moon down with one large claw.
“Now, Moon, I did like you. I mean, you’re the one who first talked to me in 2,000 years, but-” he tsked tsked. “In every future I see, you try to kill me, so you can probably imagine that I don’t trust you very much.”
Darkstalker applied a bit more pressure and Moon winced.
“Don’t hurt her!” Qibli pulled desperately on Darkstalker’s arm. “Please, let her go!”
Foeslayer joined in, tugging with all her strength, but Darkstalker only laughed.
“Nothing you do could ever stop me, not ever….” He trailed off, looking over his shoulder. He tensed, his whole body still as a statue.
“Darkstalker, dear, look what you’ve done,” an unfamiliar voice spoke. Foeslayer, Moon and Qibli all looked up to see a Nightwing, sitting in the grass.
“Clearsight?” Darkstalker got off Moon immediately and walked closer. “It can’t be you; you’re gone!”
“It’s me, and if I were fake, would I tell you that I am the reason you were defeated?” Clearsight tilted her head, pressing her claws into the muddy grass below her. “And also, if I were fake, you wouldn’t be able to see all the dark paths unfolding in my head, would you?”
Darkstalker stared at her, his claws shaking.
“You betrayed me? Not Fathom?”
She nodded, looking only slightly apologetic. Darkstalker shook his head, and Moon thought she saw a tear fall into the grass below him.
“Darkstalker, don’t do this. If you do, Pyrrhia will be in danger forever,” Clearsight took his talons in hers, looking up into his eyes. “Be the dragon I fell for all those years ago, please.”
She twined their tails, and he slowly nodded, tears falling like rain down his snout.
“I’m so sorry, Clearsight,” he whispered, burying himself in her wings. No, he was shrinking. Down, down, down, until he was only a little bit bigger than her. “The earrings were awful.”
“Don’t worry,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. “You weren’t yourself; I forgive you.”
THREE YEARS LATER
The sky glimmered pink, gold, orange as Moon swooped down to the small hut crammed in between the cracks in Jade Mountain. Soon after Clearsight reappeared, she and Darkstalker got married and had 3 dragonets: Eclipse, Shadowhunter, and Fierceclaws. Then, all the Nightwings were stuck in the old kingdom, wondering where in the world he had gone. Eventually, despite Fierceteeth’s best efforts, the tribe moved back to the rainforest. Now that they had lived in the old night kingdom, the Nightwings had decided that living under the rule of a Rainwing wasn’t so bad after all. Moon hopped into the hut and was greeted by 3 sets of small talons leaping on her tail.
“Moon!” Clearsight cried, bustling over and pulling Eclipse off Moon’s tail. “We’re so happy you came. Darkstalker, Moon’s here!”
Darkstalker popped his head through the doorway and smiled.
“Moon! Welcome, Shadowhunter; Ow!” he said as he delicately pulled the small dragonet off his ear.
“Dragonets are way more trouble than their worth,” he whispered to Clearsight, who laughed and brushed his wing lightly.
“Did I miss the party?” Qibli walked in, grinning and bumping Moon’s side.
“Hey Qibli-almost-animus,” Darkstalker chuckled. He’d been calling Qibli that since he and Clearsight had been living here.
“Haha!” Qibli rolled his eyes and poked in claw into the cracked stone floor.
“QUIBLEELEE!” Eclipse bounced over and nuzzled her snout in the area in between Qibli’s front claws.
“Eclipse, you forgot your bracelet! Get back here!” Clearsight sighed and pinned the copper wire bracelet on Eclipse’s wrist. Moon saw Darkstalker wince, but the pain melted into happiness, as she knew it would. Without Clearsight, everything would have gone wrong. Darkstalker would have taken over Pyhrria and become the king of Moon’s nightmares. But Clearisght showed Darkstalker the truth, and it healed his soul, making the darkness and evil disappear. Moon watched the moons peak over the mountains and rise into the sky. One was full tonight, and it bathed the tops of the cliffs in a silver glow.
My Pink Daisy
By Elena Maggioni
Oink, oink. The pigs gather around my tall, mud-covered boots. I reach down and pick up Daisy, the brand-new piglet. I reach my hand into my pocket, and Daisy immediately understands. She starts slobbering all over my used-to-be yellow gloves. I pull out a wet handful of slop, and Daisy immediately dives for it, almost slipping out of my hands. I laugh and watch as she slurps up the corn mixture. I sigh as I watch the precious slop disappearing at an alarming rate. I knew I had enough for Daisy but never enough for the other pigs: Charlie, Betty, Rikky, Charlotte and Tomorrow’s Dinner. She quite literally is tomorrow's dinner. Now that food is hard to find, more of our pigs are becoming tomorrow's dinner, and not a lot are even getting any dinner at all. My eyes sweep across the 5 pigs. I hold Daisy tighter. Their ribs protruding, eyes big and watery, sniffing the ground for grass that isn’t there. If Daisy becomes healthy, then at the fair, we could win a prize of 10,000 dollars if she is the heaviest. Since the others are too spindly, they would need more total food to grow. But even with all that money, all it would get me is maybe a roof thatching and a small handful of beans.
I hear a happy scream; I gently place Daisy back down and watch as Amelia runs towards me. I smile and turn around; I sprint to the exit of the pen. I see Amelia waiting for me with a huge grin on her face, her disheveled pigtails making her even cuter.
“Mommy!” she states happily.
“Pinky!” I pick her up and state with an excitement matching hers. She smiles. I carry her over to our little cabin and open the door. I gasp in fake surprise as I see the pink daisies on the table. I set Amelia down and went over to inspect them. In truth, I had heard her squeals of delight all afternoon when she found a particularly nice one.
I sniff the pollen and sigh dramatically, “They are so beautiful! We’ll have something to spruce up the table tonight!” She giggles, I gesture to the bathroom, and she hurries off to change into PJs. I take off my plastered grin and let my shoulders slump. I walk heavily towards the cupboards, looking for something to eat. But I open one after the other, only seeing empty, desolate, and dirty wood. I lose hope. Where are all the beans I had stored for the winter? I don’t understand; we haven’t been eating that much. Or maybe I lost them?! Please, I beg, just enough for Amelia; I can go hungry tonight. I frantically search everywhere, knowing Amelia would soon be done. I half-heartedly open the last cupboard and... yes! A measly, tiny, half-full bag of beans rested lonely on the dusty shelf. Just one portion for Amelia. I hear the door creak open, and innocent giggles fill the room.
Perfect timing, I think as I turn around, and the room immediately is filled with sunshine. I sweep Amelia up and kiss her on her forehead. I’ll always have enough for her, no matter how bad the hunger. There will always be more than enough love for my little pink daisy.
Change A Scholastic Gold Key Winner
By Joshika Banerjee
Change is always right around the corner
Change could be when the leaves are bright green
And then they turn into bright warm colors
Of red, orange, and yellow
And you feel that crisp autumn air
While going on a brisk walk
Then the leaves slowly fall down
Into piles and piles that children love to jump in
Then the trees are bare
For those seemingly long winter months
Before you see those leaves grow back on
A sign of warmer weather on the way
Or change could be being a year older
Being an example for the younger children
Taking on new responsibilities
Trying new activities you thought
You would never try in your whole life
Tackling the piles of worksheets
And studying for all those tests and exams
Before you realize that the school year
Went by faster than a clap of lightning
And that you’ll be taking on a new chapter of life
In just a few months
Or change could be leaving the carefree days
People long to never leave
Or realizing that you might have to say goodbye
To a person or place you have known
For your whole life
People express change through laughter and tears
Or a short but powerful sentence
But change is something everyone will have to deal with
And the way I want to deal with it
Is to welcome it with open arms
Because I am lucky to get to experience
Everything the world has to offer
Through change
Ode to My Favorite Songs
By Annabelle Gichohi
A smile that fades my frown
The sun that peaks through a gloomy day
A melody that breaks me free
In the best possible ways
A journey when the settlers finally find home
Music is a part of me
Wherever I go
Music is a heartbeat in my head
Melodies that speak to me, even when I go to bed
But most of all
Music is an escape
From the real world
Just the music
And me
It brightens the stars on a dark winter night and Banishes my tears
When I am drowning and out of sight
Music is poetry
With every melody I hum
And every lyric I sing
I feel free
Music is an escape
From the real world
Just the music
And me
Spring
By Isabella Verde
How the trees sway in the wind
How birds chirp their melodious song
How vibrant flower buds peek out slowly not long after winter ended
How children play during spring break
How families have fun on Easter
How children have Easter egg hunts with their friends
How there are April showers and May flowers
How summer looms on the horizon
How everything is beautiful
How everything is balanced
How everything is beautifully and meticulously made by our God
Light of the World
By Audrey Berg
My offering to all
That hope is in your heart
No matter how big Or small
It’s a little spark
That can burn the brush
That clears the path
And lights the way
Just for you to see
So, protect
Your perpetual hope
That spark inside your heart
And light up the world
Like a hot air balloon
And once that takes flight
You’ll find your way up
And there you’ll be happy
Content with His work
Tabatha the Turkey
By Juliette Barker
Dear Mr. (Mean) Farmer, (I forget forget your name)
Hello! I’m Tabatha the Turkey, and I have many reasons as to why you shouldn’t eat me.
a.) I wouldn’t taste good. Turkey is too dry (and trust me, I KNOW) Chicken chicken Chicken is much better, personally.
b.) I’m your dog’s BEST FRIEND! I mean, he hasn’t even attacked me yet today! (Of course, I’ve been in the fridge) And yesterday, he only attacked me 2000 times!
c.) You’re You’re You’re out of gravy, and as I said earlier, turkey is to two 2 too dry!
d.) Your sister is vegetarian! I think. You said she was a “carnivore.” That’s vegetarian, right?
e.) I have a life.
f.) I’m built different!
g.) I have a life!!!!!!!!
h.) I can blackmail you. For... um... something.
i.) I will come for you. (I can open doors now! HA! Bet you can’t do THAT!)
Thank you for your patience patience. Don’t eat me please! See? I even have good manners! New point!
j.) I have good manners!
Thank you! (But not really at all. I hat hate you.)
Sincerely, Tabatha the Turkey
My Own World
All of us have a unique story to share. Each story is like a miniature world. When all of them are shared, a huge, diverse world is created! The diversity in our stories and poems is what keeps us united as NDP sisters and as people. Since we have different points of view, “My Own World” may be drastically different from person to person. Explore the powerful themes of feelings, life lessons, important objects, people, and places, and discovering what you believe in these works.
everything all at once
A Scholastic Gold Key Winner
By Madisyn Lubitz
i am nothing.
i: happy my eyes are wrenched open, buttery spread of a smile spreads across my face,
i'm going to see my one my one my one oh my, i can’t wait i could sing, i could dance, i could fly, though it’s seven and the sun isn’t in the sky i'm so energized and i don’t know w h y
ii: jealous
why can’t we be different? why can we be the same? why can’t you have nothing? why can you have everything? i want to break you to glean all your traits and vacuum your mannerisms and be you.
iii: sad
breaking snapping ripping bending a crumbled paper ball, a bomb people shouldn’t touch but do like a curious child that can’t know better they don’t know better they never do they don’t know how, and that makes me even more sad
iv: angry bones pulse under my skin fingers clench, ready to kill ready to leap, ready to bring them to the dirt i'm not wrong i'm not wrong i'm not wrong though I always am funny how that works need to change, need to rearrange, need to be docile
need to be what they want v: obsessed need to give them this and that need to memorize each blink they take and everything they make every mark of their skin will be overlayed with mine
so we can be akin, so they can be mine
i need them all the time every time
vi: neutral indifferent calm yet depressed balanced perfect though i'm a mess i'm still here,
i'm neutral.
nothing = something = me
There are many depictions of flames
In modern media
Flames can have many meanings
Whether it’s a comforting presence
By Bella Dana
It can spark a generation of industry
Helping people create
What they couldn’t dream of
It can make or break a home
Keeping you warm and safe Flames
Or a blazing river of hatred and destruction
Both are never to be underestimated
It can be a flicker of hope
For the lost and forgotten
A sign to keep fighting
For the things you care about
It can make lives crash down
Like old buildings
Whose structures are old and worn
Engulfing the hopes and dreams of many
Like a fiery, unforgiving beast of nature
A never-resting being of light and chaos
A being of creation and destruction
“Keep your heart burning”
Said a favorite character of mine
Like the undying flames of eternity
Ode to You
By Bridget Rebbel
Ode to you who actually cared
Ode to you because you loved me
So many people in this world have made me feel so dismissive
Despite all the love and kindness I've showed
Yet you are the only one who listened
Cared about me and my health
Cared for me when I wouldn't even tell you I was suffering
No one noticed, except for you
I was drowning in my own sea, and you extended an arm
You never gossip behind my back
Only your love for me that I give back
No one cares except you
You, you care more than I do about myself
You
You’re selfless and generous
I love you
Ode to My Blanket
By Sophie Harris
To the blanket that seems so perfect
To the blanket as soft as roses
Oh, blanket how you are so dear to me
How I love you so
Oh, how you make those sleepless nights sleepful
How you dry my tears when I cry
Oh, blanket, do you know what you mean to me?
Do you know how important you are?
How you helped me through the times I could not bear myself
Oh, blanket, do you know how kind you have been to me?
To my blanket, for you were given to me when I could not open my eyes
But now I see the world as many possibilities as can be
Oh, how you have changed my life for the good and better
Oh, how you have seen me change through all these years
Oh, blanket, you have been with me through the road trips and sleepovers the late nights and the laughter
Oh, how I love you, blanket
You are so very dear to me
The Past, Present, and Future
A
Scholastic
Gold Key Winner
By Joshika Banerjee
Time is a weird thing
Maybe it brings you regret and remorse
Or it can bring you nostalgia
And sometimes it can leave you numb
But no matter what time brings you
We can all learn a valuable lesson from it
The past is either filled with great memories
Or things that you wish you had done differently
Things that are too late to change
But no matter what decisions we have made
We must have learned a valuable life lesson
Whether it be that failure is a step of success
Or that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
The present is so short
We tend to take it for granted
Even if there are moments that don’t seem grand
It can bring you joy and excitement
Like people giving us warm, genuine smiles
They can make all the difference in the quality of our day
Seize every moment, because in the blink of an eye
The present will become the future
The future is something we spend so much time worrying about
That we almost forget to live in the present
The stress and what ifs of our futures
Interfere with our lives that are happening right now
Don’t worry about the future just yet
You will cross that bridge when you get there
Soak up every moment in the present
That way, you won’t feel regret once the future comes
Have you ever heard of a keystone?
Ode to the Keystone
By Madisyn Lubitz
It’s an important part of a gateway’s curved arch.
It is the most important part, so it always stays alone.
In all the times that it’s needed, it always leads the march.
When the gateway is toppling and cracking, The keystone is fitted in its useful place.
But when your carrying keystone is lacking,
You see that the one that carries is not often the case.
The one that lifts so hard, Has lots of troubles on their back.
And when something in their life plays a bad card,
People comment on what they lack.
A community is often like a gateway,
The top people hold the sisterhood together.
The majority help the leading people every day
And it makes everyone feel a lot better.
So, with this loving NDP group
Makes the gateway easier to open.
Here, you help when someone’s face starts to droop
That little act lets some hope in.
This proves that anyone can lead the march
Inspire people to become leaders
Gather people under their gateway arch
And be the school’s group of cheerleaders.
Even when I help people that are feeling blue
And remind them of the good times they had
There is something I need to tell you
I want to help carry so, so bad
Ocean Breeze
By Elisa Gangemi
The beach is my safe place
The place where I’m happy
Where I can forget all my problems
And think about nothing
From shopping with Mom
To playing with my brother
The sand dancing in the wind
Surely the best part of summer
On Bethany’s boardwalk
Ice cream for dinner
Dressed in bikinis and flipflops
While diving through the waves
I cannot wait for summer
For the memories I’ll make!
I Believe
A Scholastic Gold Key Winner & American Voices Nominee
By Bella Dana
I believe that God is real
That He watches me every day
His love unyielding
I believe my friends are there for me
By my side forevermore
I believe writing is a way
To let go of your sadness
Your fear
Your anger
A way to let it escape, like a hurricane
Rising from the sea
I believe my family will stay by my sideI believe many things
Loving me no matter what
I believe manga is literature
And NOT a ‘Japanese cartoon’
It holds a story, as we all do
I believe autism is a strength
Not a disability for people to pity
But if anything
I believe that life can be good
And it can be terrible
But still, humanity braves the storm
Every single day
Or something to make them feel they have an advantage over another
