The Mechanics of a Crow Siena Solis
My day began with seeing a crow perched on top of my shed. Nothing was special about this crow. It was just the first thing I noticed. Its eyes were focused on me. I guess that makes this crow a bit special. Little did I know, this was a cursed crow. A malicious thing to make the most ordinary day, the worst day of my life. What could a crow possibly do to make anyone’s day so horrible? All they do is make noise in parking lots. They’re just a bit of a nuisance typically. My experience with my crow was different. The stupid thing kept staring me down. And I stared back. A staring contest between a sky roamer and a land walker. It was just stupid. But this crow’s eyes made me think of someone, a person that I should pay a visit. My very platonic female best friend; Whom I hadn’t talked to in ages because I’ve been working on this special project in my shed. I kinda live in that thing. It’s secluded, a safe haven. She always told me I needed to hang out with the guys at school but, I don’t give a crap about sports, my hobbies are far superior.
The early morning sun peered through the wooden planks with a glow that wasn’t too harsh, nor too dim. Just perfect. The wet moss from last night’s rain clung on tight to the roof of the shed. This shed never wanted to stay clean. Maybe because I’m not very clean myself. My hands are caked with dirt at the moment. I guess I should shower more too. This shed is a reflection of me.
Finally after all my cryptic thinking (well to me it’s cryptic. My thoughts only get deep sometimes), I headed into my shed. My undisturbed happy shed, or so I thought. My shed was both disturbed and unhappy. I was like a kid that had been peacefully playing outside until a swarm of bees came to invade and attack. I stood in shock, glazing over the massacre that appeared before me. My pigeons that I’d worked so hard to train were now dead, sprawled all across my table with my maps and blueprints. Not only were they dead, they were headless. The feathers were just all over the place.
“Aw man, that’s gross, can’t wait to clean this crap shoot up.” I said, as if I was trying to make myself less afraid and shocked. I didn’t want to lose my calm collected state of mind that I’ve always adopted. But within seconds, that state of mind disappeared and replaced itself with frustration. I let out a real honest groan of defeat.
literally a cop. He probably thought of the idea himself to destroy my project. He used her as a pawn in his little chess game. Defending only himself. I knew I should’ve installed some security measures in my shed. But why the hell would anyone install security measures…in a shed? Because they’re illegally training pigeons? Fair enough.
Then another thought hit me. A cold chill ran down my spine. I took one last look at my surroundings. The tiny grey headless bodies. I made sure to not step on a pigeon that lay dead at my feet as I ran out of the shed. It was still there, staring only at me. That god-awful ugly crow. It was pretty obvious what I needed to do. My shed was fairly small and climbable. With zero hesitation I heaved myself on the roof of the shed by stepping on this old stool that came from somewhere in my garbage pit of a house. I wildly grabbed at the crow that was making strange mechanical noises. It didn’t have much strength, as I suspected. After all, it wasn’t like my pigeons. Well, what my pigeons were going to be. My pigeons were going to be fighters. These crows are for something even more frightful. They take up the tiniest spaces. They focus on things that are seemingly arbitrary. They’re unforgivable spies. The spy crow only slightly resisted and made the tiniest of noises. Soon it whirred and then died. And then I did my revenge.
I threw it off my roof with the strength of a boy with a hunger for power. I knew what would happen. The head detached itself from its body. Tiny pieces of metal and all different kinds of wiring exploded out of the feathered mass. I looked down at it with zero guilt as I’m sure that cop did with my pigeons. I jumped off of my roof and landed on my bare feet. I’m a barefoot kinda guy. I took the crow’s head in my hands, looked into its stupid little eyes, and grinned. I was prepared for this event. I ran into my shed to grab my dark green string bag. Something that wouldn’t stand out too much. It had some essential resources and I shoved the crow head in it. Some metal bits fell out as I did so.
“I’m an idiot!” I exclaimed plainly.
I should’ve known staying away from her would make her suspicious. Her dad’s
Then I prepared to inconspicuously head through my woods to her house. I didn’t know what I intended to do. I could do nothing though. Before I could even make headway, I saw her. But she was different this time. She walked towards me. This wasn’t the way she walked. She walks with attitude, not a robotic uniform. And her eyes, they weren’t the beady little judgemental eyes I’m so used to seeing. They were wide open, ready for what would happen next. I didn’t even know what would happen next. But I did know that she was one of them. She was programmed. That dumb crow marked the end of our days.
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20 21
What should I say?
Khoa (Peter) Tran
Think of life as a set of stairs, let’s just start off slow. The first few steps are only millimeters in height, crawling would do the job. But would it be as simple the further up you get? Imagine one good thing that you did was “good” like being able to recognize a familiar face after some time, that would have been an achievement, you would then move up one step. The heights of the steps would indeed increase over time. Two millimeters would switch to three, to six, to twelve and so on… how would it end? Before that, how would one proceed one step at a time? Steps length increases at random, sometimes fast, at times slower, or remaining stagnant, there are times when you might slip backward a few steps, or there are even times when it remains the same but extends in length seemingly forever, waiting for something, waiting for something to be finished or resolved. And after that, what happens?
The steps then proceed to rise, it is not entirely a soothing experience, pebbles, rocks or boulders could be in the way, as obstacles, what would one do, bite the bullet and accept them or try one’s best to solve them or let someone else take care of it? What would you do? Then what about the other obstacles, a hole, a fallen tree or someone obstructing your path, what would you do?
Eventually, the steps would get so high that you would not be able to climb them. The need for help is nothing to deny, having someone to lift you up, having them standing on your shoulders just to climb a step at a time, a day at a time, a month at a time, a year at a time, a decade at a time.
Do you really need to know the person that aided your life every minute, even if they are behind curtains? No, you do not, do you really need to see them? No, do you want to see them even if nothing goes to plan and you missed the chance? I would. Why? To say thank you? That’s it?
Yes…
That is it? What is it that is so special about you that you wanted to see this person?
No, nothing…
Then why do you insist that this person would need you?
I have nothing but I want to help.
To help? How?
I don’t know, and I can’t have someone pay for a meal and leave without paying them back, let alone supporting my entire life.
But how would you help this person?
I don’t know. A simple ‘thank you’ is just not enough. Is it? Is it money that is the answer, or is it gifts, or is it love and appreciation, or something else.
How long has it been?
Years… We could not talk much, I was occupied with my studies, he was drowned in mountains of work, tests, and math. Somehow, nothing makes sense, events and obstacles kept us apart… I, I don’t want to be a stranger. I don’t want to be a stranger. I don’t want us to be strangers… I just want a conversation again, a normal one. We could talk about life, work, culinary experiences, pictures, or future plans… It has been on my mind, the longer it is I’m afraid the worst might happen, what if we don’t know how to act around each other anymore? I just don’t want us to be strangers.
Then how do you feel right now?
I don’t know… But I just want to know, how is life on the other side? I am sort of worried, not knowing what has happened, or what is going on but I can only hope for the best. Years passed and I had not once said anything. It has been years since…
Well what now?
I just hope. Hope that our relationship still stands the test of time… Old Friend.
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Time is a man-made construction created by humans to establish normalcy and structure for society. From time to time this thought crosses my mind but goes as fast as it came. In my mind, time is a constant that will never change and is as much a part of us as our fingers. I find myself running away from it, and never knowing when to relax at the moment as I let time dictate my day. However, last Friday I was given the gift of what I shall refer to it as a “time freeze.” The bus left without me and I was left stranded at Oakwood for an hour while I waited for my mother to pick me up. Lucky for me it was a beautiful sunny day outside and the breeze was soft yet apparent. The door to the main building was locked so I sat on the old wooden bench that faced the mountains. At first, I decided to spend my time doing homework on my computer. As I was typing I heard the birds chirping and singing their tunes. My hands playfully hit the button in sync with their beats. I became distracted and felt a sense of relaxation roll over me. Closing my eyes, I felt the breeze behind my neck and felt alive. Time stopped and I was transported to a forest setting. The night before it had rained so the lingering scent of damp grass filled the air. I had no control over the bus situation, yet I had control over my life and how I could spend it. For an hour I sat on the bench which was no longer a bench, but a safe haven. A place where I was given shelter from time and distraction. For the first time in a while, I felt that everything was going to be okay and I recognized my existence. Perhaps I don’t know my exact place in the universe, but I do know that I live for moments like those, when I can be free in nature, free from responsibilities, and free from worry.
25 Untitled Anonymous
Anonymous
The eight dwarves weren’t related, some of them were. All of them had been together for most of their lives. At first, there was only one, he got put in the orphanage when he was just born and grew to the age of seven. His name was Dover. In his seventh year there, two more dwarves got put in. One had just been born, the other was two. They were brothers, the older one is called Givin, and the younger one was, Ramin. Two more joined the following year when they were three, also brothers but twins. They were called Bathor, and Bothan. At this point, the first two were three and one. In the next four years, three more dwarves joined, Ralan, Bovir, and Rathion. They grew up together but eventually, they came to the age where they could leave the orphanage. Dovor was the first to leave, he stayed close to the rest of them. So that when they all got out they could build themselves a house in the woods. After seven years of waiting, three more of them could be released. A year later two more of them could leave. In the next six months, they decided to adopt the last two, so they did. The season was summer, and they started their month-long journey to find the perfect place to build their ideal house. All of them had a rough childhood but always had each other. All the rest of the summer and fall they worked on the house. Right before the winter came their work was done. During the building, they would make trips to the nearest town which was two days’ travel away. They would get stuff, like pots and pans. They would never pay for it, they had no money. They had gotten a little money each when they left the orphanage, but they had pooled it and bought tents to sleep in during the building of the house. They waited until night and took what they needed. They didn’t start doing this until they had somewhere to store it. They had first constructed a shed that they would eventually connect to the house. After a few weeks and a few unfortunate run-ins, they perfected their way of not getting caught. They would bring the little cart they had made and would bring the stuff they had gotten back to the cabin. When they finished construction on the house, it was fully furnished with the stuff they had taken and they were ready to go. They had a big feast with meat they had stolen from the market, pies with berries they had picked, and many other things.
After moving they lived in peace for many years. One day Dovor decided to go into a cave he had found a week before. He brought a headlamp and some mining tools, and he planned on mining for some gems. He walked into the cave for about ten minutes, suddenly he came to a stop. He was so surprised with his luck because a marvelous red gem was embedded on the top of some rock. After about fifteen minutes of hacking and swinging his tools, Dovor got the gem out. when he picked the gem up he immediately felt more powerful. There was a draw to this gem. It was amazing, simply amazing. He walked in a trance back to the mouth of the cave. Once he reached the sunlight the stone started to dazzle almost glowing. Once he got back to the cabin he had the urge to conceal the stone. Dinner was ready but he stumbled to
his bed and lay down. One of the others came over to see if he was alright, but Dovor snapped “I’m fine!” in a harsh tone. He ate no dinner that night and had no sleep. He had only been with the stone for hours but was becoming obsessed. When the sun was still down he slipped out of his bed and slipped on his shoes. He went outside, it felt like the stone was pulling him to a certain spot. Little did he know that he was being folwed. Given had been awake when Dovor had gotten up and decided to follow him. Everyone had talked about his strange behavior the night before and decided to see if they noticed anything else strange. Dovor walked for twenty minutes when he finally stopped. Given looked around he had never been here before, even though it was pretty close to the cabin. When he looked closer and the ground he saw a little hole like an opening to an underground cave. Before he knew what was happening Dovor had jumped down the hole. Given ran to the hole to make sure he was ok. But when he looked down Dovor was engulfed in a scarlet glow. He was floating slowly down to the bottom of the cave which was about ten feet down. When Dovor’s foot touched the ground the whole cave lit up. There were hundreds of little rocks all glowing all different colors. Given stumbled back in surprise, and when he looked up again Dovor was hovering over the mouth of the cave. His whole body was lit up his eyes were ablaze. Given started to run, he ran faster than he had in a long time. Within ten minutes he had reached the cabin. As soon as he got through the door he screamed “Get up get up.” some of them were already up and making breakfast but the others were still in bed. He shouted again “Get up! Dovor’s body and mind has been taken over by something.” Hearing those words, everyone jumped into action. All of them grabbed their tools and ran outside. The first thing they realized when they burst out of the house was that the sky had gone completely dark and there seemed to be fog thinking fast. Given lead up front. All of them ran but not even a minute went by before they saw a red glow. They didn’t truly have a plan but all of them just knew they had to kill him. They had been together for most of their lives but there was no way to save him. They headed toward him, not knowing how to win at all but after an hour of fighting the seven dwarves came out victorious. When it had all settled they walked back in silence to the cabin. They were sad for many years, but over time they got back to normal. Many years later a young girl found them. Her name was Snow White.
26 27 The 8 dwarves
Wishing for something to happen -
Lila Sawyer
When I was four I wanted to be six I wanted to be in the big kid school I got told “Don’t wish your time away”
- But I didn’t listen
When I was eight I couldn’t wait to be ten I would be double digits
But again, I got told “Don’t wish time away” - I still didn’t listen
When I was eleven I wanted to be thirteen so badly To be an official teenager
To no longer be considered a kid
Oh how exciting
“Don’t wish your time away”
- I should have listened
Now I’m fourteen
Wishing I was eleven
Wishing I was eight
Wishing I was four
Realizing time is going to keep moving
- Wishing I didn’t wish time away
- Wishing I had listened
Once upon a time, There was a mere farmer’s child She ran around the fields all day, For she was wild.
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Excerpt from a poem Anonymous
Nora Marshall
There was once a world overrun by zombies but that has long since been destroyed by the great vaccine. There now exist only 103 zombies in both the Americas. Our story focuses on only two zombies. Zarg and Emile are their names and they are best friends. They have been zombies together since they were turned. They were bit together and since then they have had a, strange to most but endearing to few, love blossoming between them. They do everything together. It started when they would engorge themselves on living flesh but they soon realized there was something more to be had. They have existed in undead friendship for 50 years. Together they watched sci-fi movies and feasted on bowls full of fingers. They went on walks together and terrified the few living who yet existed… but that is all over now. They exist in a world where they are something that needs to be eradicated. They know that their existence is wrong but they refuse to believe it. They have found a way to be strangely happy together and they aren’t ready to be gone. For you see, zombies are entirely separate from their hosts. They are mere parasites and once they are taken from the body they inhabit they will cease to exist, but Zarg and Emile love each other. Doesn’t that make them just as human as you or me? Doesn’t that give them the right to exist in loving harmony together? Either way, it matters not for they will be slaughtered where they stand if they are ever found, and they will be if the military doesn’t stop. Patrols move from California to New York sweeping the nation for any remaining creatures. Emile and Zarg are currently hiding in a basement in Tennessee. They held each other shaking in fear as they heard boots stomp through the houses above them, the basement door creaked open as they looked deep into each other’s eyes, which was difficult as Zarg’s eye was hanging from one thin nerve, and they cried. They cried real human tears and felt a real deep human sadness. Two men in hazmat suits stomped up to the grotesque and beautiful scene and one of them threw up violently into their helmet. Zarg and Emile, realizing the finality of the moment, grip each other and kiss. It’s disgusting but they don’t care because they love each other. They don’t care if the whole world thinks they are some malicious anomaly for they truly care about eachother. They share this beautiful moment and kiss. The men in their suits spray first Emile, then Zarg. The parasites are coughed up and Zarg and Emile cease to be. Henry and Chris returned to the world. They both took a deep breath and screamed, for you see, Henry and Chris were incredibly intolerant of queer people, this is their worst nightmare, they both retch horribly and return to their mostly normal lives, other than Chris returning to his serial killings.
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Two Lovers
Elijah Rashid
In a small village, deep in the forests, there lived a young girl named Milan. She was an adventurous soul, always seeking out new experiences and sights. One day, while wandering through the woods, she stumbled upon a wondrous sight: a glowing orb suspended in mid-air, emitting a soft, pulsing light. Milan approached it with caution, unsure of what to make of this strange object. As she drew nearer, she could feel a tingling sensation in her fingertips and a warmth spreading throughout her body. As she reached out to touch the orb, it suddenly pulsed brighter and shot upwards, leaving behind a trail of sparkling light. Milan stumbled backward, awestruck by the experience. She had never seen anything like it before. As she pondered what she had just witnessed, she felt a strange energy coursing through her veins. She felt alive in a way that she never had before.
From that day on, Milan was different. She began to notice things that others didn’t, and her senses were heightened to an extraordinary degree. The birds seemed to sing more sweetly, the flowers bloomed with more vivid colors, and the trees rustled with a newfound energy. She could see things that were normally hidden from view and hear whispers on the wind that others could not.
As the days passed, Milan became more attuned to the world around her, and she began to understand that the orb had gifted her with a special kind of sight. It was as if she had been granted access to a magical realm, where the impossible became possible and the improbable became real. She reveled in this newfound power, exploring every inch of the forest and discovering hidden treasures and secrets. She became richer by the day.
With great power comes great responsibility, and Milan soon realized that she had a duty to protect the forest and its inhabitants. She became a guardian of the woods, using her gifts to watch over the animals and protect them from harm. She became a part of the forest, a living embodiment of its magic and beauty.
One day while she was watching over the forest, the ground shook throughout the whole forest. Milan walked toward the center of the forest until she found something unbelievable. It was a giant fox, about 30 feet tall and 45 feet wide. With every step the fox took the ground shook and anything in the fox’s way would be dead. Milan walked up to the fox quietly and touched its leg. Once she touched the giant fox, it disappeared into thin air. The orb gave her the power to make giant monsters disappear, the only problem was all of the damage the fox had already done. That’s when she touched the ground and all of the forest was replenished.
About a week later the ground shook again. This time it was different to Milan, she knew it was something much bigger and worse. She walked to the center of the forest once again and this time it was an enormous bear! Milan tried to walk quietly towards it but the bear heard her and slashed her. She was knocked on the ground unconscious, pretty much dead. The orb in her body started flowing out and formed a ball. The orb started levitating and went right back into her body. The massive bear was watching in amazement. She started to come alive again and she eventually woke up. The bear was still in front of her but this time Milan acted differently. She tamed the bear and they became great friends.
Milan wasn’t surprised that she had been revived by the mystical orb but everything around her was. After months of being away from her home, she finally went back and told her family what had happened. Her family didn’t care so she ran away into the forest again. Ever since she was revived by the orb, her hands would light up gold and purple whenever something was wrong in the forest. Milan would find caterpillars with the head of a chicken, cats with the nose of a woodpecker, and even flies without their wings. This was normal for Milan as she continued to fix her forest up.
Years passed, and Milan remained in the forest, watching over it with a keen eye and a fierce determination. And though she was no longer a young girl, she retained the same sense of wonder and awe that she had felt when she first discovered the glowing orb. For her, the magic of the forest had never faded, and she knew that it never would. It was a part of her now, and she was a part of it.
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Milan’s Gift
The Basketball Kid
By Micah Coward
Once upon a time there was a young boy named Maruto. He was walking to school and his friends greeted him.
“Hey Maruto!” said Kuba and Elizabeth.
“Hey,” said Maruto. “I’m so tired. I stayed up late last night studying for the science test.”
“We didn’t study at all!” said Kuba. Kuba and Elizabeth are 17-year-old cousins who lived one mile away from each other.
“You are probably going to fail!” yelled Maruto.
At school, the first class starts and they’re almost late by 1 minute. In class, they started passing notes after the test was over and the teacher caught them.
“You all have lunch detention!” yelled Ms. Johnson, the Science teacher.
Lunch detention was an hour and Ms. Johnson made them wipe off all the lunch tables and wash the lunch dishes.
After school, they went to Maruto’s house.
“Hey, can you guys help me clean up my room?” Maruto said
“Sure,” they said. And they helped Maruto to clean up his room.
“Do you guys want to play video games?” said Maruto.
After they played the games everyone went home and Maruto had dinner. After dinner, he helped his mom clean up and then he went to bed.
In the morning, Maruto tried out for the basketball team, but he was too slow.
“Sorry, kid, but you’re not allowed to join the team because you’re holding back the rest of the team. It takes you too long to get to the other end of the court.”
Maruto is not happy about that and goes home sad. But Elizabeth and Kuba are behind him.
They continue walking to his house and then to his home. When they get there, Maruto tells them what happened during the basketball tryouts.
“The coach said that I am too slow.” Maruto said,
“Then you have to run a lot so you can get faster,” Elizabeth said.
I agree,” said Kuba. “They said you have to run every day and work out on the treadmill every day.”
So Maruto ran 2 miles a day and he goes to the gym and runs on the treadmill for 2 hours.
Three weeks later Maruto tries out again.
“Are you sure that you want to try out again?” said coach Jack.
“Yes, I am ready. I have been practicing for this day,” said Maruto
During the practice they are running 6 laps and everyone thought Maruto is going to be last.
“Last one has to buy pizza for everyone?!” said Maruto. Everyone agrees then it started and everyone was shocked but then someone
threw a ball at Maruto and made him fall and put him in last place.
“Who threw a ball at me? Is it so I can buy the pizza? Why did I do it? I was just running and I did nothing to anyone.” Maruto said.
Nobody said anything then so then tomorrow Maruto took last place and instead of him buying the pizza they all bought the pizza and at the end of practice Maruto made the team.
“Finally I made the team,” Maruto said.
“You earned it you were past my expectations And you are faster than anyone here so cool congratulations you have made the team.” Coach Jack said.
Maruto started to walk home during the walk he saw somebody getting beat up and so Maruto decides to help the person.
”Leave the boy alone.” said Maruto. Who do you think you are? You should just go home then mind your own business.” they said.
“Never you shouldn’t hurt a kid even if they’re younger than you they probably didn’t even deserve it.” Maruto said.
“This is none of your business, you should just go before someone gets hurt,” they said.
“The only person getting hurt is you cuz if you lay a finger on this boy you’re going home with a black eye,” said Maruto.
Oh, so this boy got a mouth Thinking that he’s big and tough thinking that he can defeat us. Listen, kid, if you don’t go home right now you are going to get hurt. “I advise you to go home. “ they said.
“I’m not going anywhere until that boy is safe. So I’m not going anywhere.“ Maruto said.
“I guess then we’re going to have to fight and you’re going to have to get hurt. I’m a sorry kid but this was your choice.” he said.
They start to fight. Five minutes later they are hurt badly but they keep her going. Then they start to pick up weapons.
Maruto doesn’t know anything about fighting so that disabled some of his abilities like kicking their legs but so they could fall he didn’t hurt them badly only some of their blood came out of their mouth and he kept fighting one by one punching them and hitting them. That he had, but at the end of the day then it came down to the boss in Maruto and so it was one-on-one and he started to fight.
Something happened or he just got lucky and Maruto won the fight with a black eye and blood all over his face.
“Are you okay little boy,” said Maruto.
“Yes,” said the little boy.
Maruto took him to his house and told his mom what happened.
36 37
“Oh my gosh, are you guys okay?”
“Yes, we are okay.”
So then they showered. They went to eat dinner together.
“Little boy, what is your name?” said the mom.
“Jake,” he said.
“Where do you live?” said the mom.
“I live at the Beacon Orphan Children’s Home.”
Then the mom decided to adopt the little boy. And so he shared a room with Maruto. But he didn’t mind. The next day Maruto woke up and got ready for school. He showered, brushed his teeth, and washed his face then he went to go meet up with his friends.
And told them that he made the team and his friends were proud. In the end, Maruto got a brother and got on a basketball team. The end or we think it was.
Consequence
After Francisco Goya’s The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters
Alex Ferry
You left out a bowl of milk once. Just a single small smile, You only gave it a pinch of seed, a sprinkling of water. You did all this
Not realizing it was your condemnation, Now it’s every night, every time you can’t keep them away. You can’t be generous, don’t let them in, They’ll come back,
Return to haunt you. Please, you can’t be kind. Cannot under any circumstances show your soul
Lest talons reach and tear it to pieces, Rip it out and make a home in your skin, In the flesh that was once your own. They will come back And they won’t leave.
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Embers
After John William Waterhouse’s The Magic Circle
Alex Ferry
We lost our only home long ago
Gave that comfort for our freedom and A pomegranate seed’s sweet tang
Now we make our own nest
Ink black feathers at the hearth of the wanderers
Oh, dear heart, keep your frozen fire burning
Hold devotion’s flame when all else is forsaken
We draw our lines, our walls, our circles, our safety
Something solid still as the rest demands to fade A concrete base on which to huddle
At least here our memories are safe
Oh, dear heart, keep your frigid feet still running In living moment when all else is dying
When skies are wrong we set to rights
With herbs and coals and flap of wings
Our own small corner of a dying planar realm
Viciously carved from an ever angry world
Oh, dear heart, keep your haunted heart still beating Stay steady now, when all else is shaken
Oh, dear heart, keep your tired eyes still gleaming
Look hungrily when all else is sparing
Oh, dear heart, keep the song you have still ringing
Keep going, it’s the only hope of our leaving
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All The World Round. Brooklyn Dottin
We pride ourselves in being the best. Of them all out there. We take joy in being unlike the rest. Of them all out there. We have one great freedom Which is with our guns. Yet it comes at one great cost We have slain our own ones.
It is surely true But not for reasons thought. We are colored with the hue Of blood-gallantly fought We have for our freedom
Yet it does not abound We have killed our own-see them Lying upon the ground.
While few stand at the top Looking all about Taking great pride
In what this nation is about. It is a wasteland Looking all about We are the laughingstock Of all the world round.
All the world round. All the world round. All the world round. All the world round.
We are a global superpower
We have abilities known to all Known to all to be favorable To help them all.
Yet we have some of the poorest Souls out on the streets. How can we be comfortably
Sleeping in our sheets?
We can make it stop
We have such a wealth
Yet we could not care less About the citizens’ health.
While few stand at the top Looking all about Taking great pride
In what this nation is about. It is a wasteland Looking all about.
We are the laughingstock Of all the world round.
All the world round. All the world round. All the world round. All the world round.
Sickness is a terrible thing
It may never go away. But we have the power to make things right.
A cure may be found today. Yet we must pay a price
Higher than the big blue sky. Most of us shall die Because of this.
Others have it easier
At least they have some semblance Of security in their future.
We are greatness
Yet we have such great shortcomings.
That is only to say the least Hell upon us is coming.
We kill our very own flesh and blood
All to keep our guns.
We let people sleep on the streets. Oh, we have such fun.
42 43
We have great medicine
Yet we cannot give it all
Without draining the life out of them. So say we all….
We are the laughingstock
Of the world round.
We are a laughingstock
All the world round.
We are the laughingstock
Of the world round.
We are a laughingstock
All the world round.
All the world round.
All the world round.
All the world round.
All the world round. We pride ourselves in being the best.
Of them all out there.
Why can I never make Good songs anymore?
I am out of here.
Brooklyn Dottin (I am out of here I am out of here).
I have done my time
‘Twas a very good time, indeed I have learned quite a lot And only strengthened my creed Always progress, make a mess That is the only way you will learn Pass the test, be the best Only true respect will you earn.
Sí
Estoy aquí He aprendido de mí. Y como a pensar Críticamente de mí. No estoy preocupado Tengo diez y ocho años Así que tengo experiencia O, al menos, algo.
I have grown in many ways
Por ejemplo, estoy menos enojado. I have lived through many days (Y estoy un poco cansado). He desarrollado mi aptitud En estar emocionado (Una broma).
Pero en serio, estoy más contento. That was a tough word For me to say Desarrollado
Have you noticed that Aprendo Español by the day?
Unrelated, but I have my first friends yet The only ones I will have, I bet.
Este lugar me ha dado mucho.
But now it is time for me to take my leave En otras palabras, I am out of here.
Me gustaría dar gracias.
Por hacerme la persona que soy. But now it is time for me to take my leave En otras palabras….
I am out of here.
I am out of here.
I am out of here.
I am out of here.
Estoy fuera de aquí
Do not try to miss me.
Estoy fuera de aquí More things will happen for me.
Estoy fuera de aquí Do not try to miss me.
Estoy fuera de aquí More things will happen for me.
I shall give individual thanks A mis padres por ponerme en este lugar. And my friends, Cook, Wapner-Mol, Hopkins, Tran, Le, Brooks, near and far. Afortunadamente, I can rely on myself
Thanks mostly to the experiences I have been subject to.
He tenido amigos malos Y ellos eran burros.
Though I cannot say I regret it As it made my current friends
As sweet as churros.
I would like to extend A hand out to them all.
For they have made me a better person And give myself a pat in the back as well. That is all.
Yes, those are all very good things.
Yes, those are all very good things.
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Este lugar me ha dado mucho. But now it is time for me to take my leave En otras palabras, I am out of here. Me gustaría dar gracias.
Gracias por hacerme la persona que soy. But now it is time for me to take my leave En otras palabras….
I am out of here.
I am out of here.
I am out of here.
I am out of here.
Estoy fuera de aquí
Do not try to miss me.
Estoy fuera de aquí
More things will happen for me.
Estoy fuera de aquí
Do not try to miss me.
Estoy fuera de aquí
More things will happen for me.
In all of my classes
I have learned quite a lot
Though in none
Advice I actively sought.
Killing it and filling it
Brain overload
Walking and a running
Right down my road
I have realized that
I will be okay
If I continue to work hard
Every single day.
Hay un chance
Que me caeré
Pero al menos
Sé que
Puedo subir más alto En el fin.
Puedo hacer muchas cosas, vámonos. Me conozco.
Te conoces?
Tenemos que nos conocemos
Para equivaler algo.
Si no, no podemos
Crecer más alto.
I am out of here.
I am out of here.
I am out of here.
I am out of here.
Estoy fuera de aquí
Do not try to miss me.
Estoy fuera de aquí
More things will happen for me.
Estoy fuera de aquí
Do not try to miss me.
Estoy fuera de aquí
More things will happen for me.
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50 51
Charlotte’s Friend
by Zoe Potter-Gamage
Charlotte knew she wanted to change her name. It was her dream to have a cool name like Jupiter or Margaret since her ninth birthday. She was twelve now and still wanted to change it. Charlotte was a very classic, boring, popular name. That was the opposite of what she wanted. School was always hard for her socially. She loved learning, but she did not want to be there because of the popular group.
Charlotte walked into the cafeteria with a giant science book so no one would notice her. She was wearing ripped black jeans and a galaxy hoodie. As soon as she entered, she heard laughing across the ‘popular’ table and realized quickly that it was Bailey, Penelope Chloe, Izzy, and Ava who were extremely mean, attention-craving, and popular. Charlotte has always been bullied because she is nerdy and likes to stand up for the things she believes in, but is also capable of being shy, and the fact that she loves to do games that involve pretending.
Bailey and Penelope walked confidently to Charlotte’s table.
“Where’s your imaginary friend, Charlotte?” tormented Bailey. “Oh, I know!” Bailey continued, “It’s because even imaginary people don’t want to be near you!”
“OMG Bailey, that is the most true thing anyone have ever said!” said Penelope, laughing.
“It is not the most true thing anyone HAS ever said,” said Charlotte fiercely. “The truest fact is that a portmanteau is a portmanteau.”
Then, she sat down at a different table once they walked away. The table was as far away from the popular table as possible. There was a girl, Emma, who was in the popular group, who was nice and Charlotte secretly wanted to be friends with her. Charlotte looked longingly at Emma. Emma looked at her, confused and Charlotte quickly looked away. She was extremely embarrassed. She continued reading a fascinating article on marine fossils in her big book about the ocean. As she dived deep into the book, her ears perked up because the popular group was speaking in hushed voices and were seeming to be planning something.
“Again, we need to spray paint her locker or something!” said Bailey.
“Can we not go to dramatic levels here?” pleaded Emma.
“Listen up Emma, do you want to be kicked out of this group?” threatened Bailey.
“Please, don’t do that,” Emma begged.
“Okay, we won’t kick you out of the group but if you are so afraid of getting revenge on someone stupid that is your choice,” growled Bailey.
Charlotte knew of this and she was not worried whatsoever. The popular group had always hated her because, in second grade, Bailey and Penelope copied her answers off a test and Charlotte rightfully told the teacher. Ever since then, they have hated her and she does not like most of the people either. She was rather fond of Emma because she was nice to her and did not seem at all snobbish.
Charlotte’s short, naturally red hair zipped past everyone so she could get out of school. Her black cat earmuffs almost fell off her head. She wanted to get away as quickly as possible so she could be with her tortoiseshell cat Agatha and her Aunt Simone. Her parents died from a volcanic explosion while doing scientific research when she was just one year old. Simone is her only living relative. Charlotte loved Simone because she was weird like her, and supported her.
She started walking home and realized she wasn’t alone. She turned around, ever so casually, and saw Emma near her which wasn’t too surprising. Emma was her neighbor and she walked home far behind her. Something about her manner was surprising: this time Emma was about two sidewalk concrete squares away instead of seven concrete squares away.
Emma had four younger siblings which seemed crazy to Charlotte. Charlotte had one sibling but he was 22 and was in college. Charlotte and her brother never fought but they weren’t close. They were sibling acquaintances. Her dad had one older sibling named Simone who ended up being Charlotte’s guardian.
Emma picked up the pace until they were side by side and Charlotte got nervous. “H-hey Charlotte.” Said Emma
“Hi,” responded Charlotte quietly.
“Listen, the rest of the popular group is going to do something to you tomorrow so I just wanted to warn you,” said Emma frantically, “I promise I won’t be a part of it.”
“Uhh… I kind of knew about it already but thanks for warning me,” said Charlotte.
“Okay, I just…. I would never want to be rude to you or hurt you,” said Emma. “I think you are a good person and you don’t deserve the things they are going to do to you,” concluded Emma.
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“Thanks again, despite you being in that group, I think that you are really nice,” said Charlotte. Then, Emma bolted away to her house.
Charlotte got home to her aunt Simone who was cool and she was 80 years old with long curly gray hair and everyone thought she was a witch (she was not). Charlotte flopped her bag down near the glass table.
“May I have some yogurt and strawberries for a snack,” asked Charlotte as she took off her teal and gold shoes.
“Of course,” replied Simone. “Aughhhhhh. I have been having leg pain so I can’t be very active anymore,” complained Simone.
“Are you okay?” Asked Charlotte nervously.
“I am doing just fine.” Grimaced Simone. “Enough about me. How was your day?” questioned Simone as she lay down on their bright blue loveseat.
“It was… normal,” said Charlotte,” “How was yours?” She never would tell Simone about when the popular group was planning their attack.
“My day was good. I did yoga, made a delicious kale salad, and read for the rest of the day.”
Simone did not allow dogs but she allowed one cat. The cat’s name was Agatha the Brave and she was cuddly and energetic. Agatha was a short-haired tortoiseshell cat. Agatha came up to Charlotte and purred, arching her back while rubbing her leg. “Oh, sweetness, you never have to go to school or deal with popular kids.” Said Charlotte. “All you have to do is eat and sleep.”
Charlotte ate her dinner and went straight to her desk.Feeling like a mad scientist she wondered if the chemicals would work. She made a spray-paint repellent for her locker and the lockers around it so the popular group had no way of bullying her. Then, she read for a while and fell asleep. She dreamed of being perfect. Her dream was fun because she imagined herself as this fearless person. The dream quickly started to get all figured out.
Throughout the city of Bundap, you could hear swords being thrashed around. In the far corner of Bundap, a girl named Jupiter was reading. She had an amazing friend, Emma who lived in another village. Her other friends were her cat Agatha the Brave and her aunt, Simone. Agatha was named after a character in Jupiter’s favorite book series, Ganther.
The day was like no other. She was an orphan but lived with Simone and Agatha. She was curled up in her outdoor hammock with Agatha when she heard a bell. She had never heard it but when she realized what the rhythm was she rushed to go get Simone. Jupiter was told that if she ever heard that rhythmic bell the Selfies Rule army had infiltrated. The Selfies Rule was Bundap’s most vicious enemy. She had never heard this noise in her 12 years of existence. Just then, she heard people screaming, including the piercing scream of her aunt.
Then, she saw a marvelous stone that looked like a wonderful sunset in her yard. It was strange, perfectly round with no bumps, and no bigger than a grown hedgehog. But what was even more strange was that she had never seen it before. She had lived there all her life, and had spent thousands of hours in the yard but she nor her aunt had ever seen it before.
“I love sunsets so I’ll keep it!” She said. She did exactly that and she began to run her fingers over it and then she knocked against it and it seemed hollow. Then she remembered the bell and that she had other things to worry about.
“We must evacuate immediately!” exclaimed Simone. Simone was panting like she had run a great distance to get there. “All the main gate guards were killed and then when a person noticed he rang the bell.”
“All I need is my sword and Agatha, obviously.” Said Jupiter bravely .
Simone & Jupiter heard the Selfies Rule army at their door about to get in. It was a chase. Jupiter obviously told Simone about the stone, mainly because she was (except for Agatha) the only person she trusted. Luckily, Simone was a natural athlete like Jupiter, but Simone seemed to be struggling. Jupiter had only a moment to think about this phenomenon when Simone softly said:
“Go to the meat shop on the corner and I’ll meet you there.”
They got together and Simone had some news.
“We have to separate,” said Simone. “If I stay here— They won’t get to—” Just then, a cracking noise came from the stone and a slimy beak popped out.
“What in the world is that?” asked Jupiter. “I thought it was a mere stone.”
“I have one idea,-- but it can’t be!” exclaimed Simone with a look of dread but a pinch of adventure. Simone told Jupiter news. She had a griffin. The griffin was making a noise in the egg that sounded like someone knocking on a wooden plank.
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Suddenly the dream stopped. Simone was knocking on her door trying to wake her up.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” She exclaimed. She got up, brushed her hair, and got dressed. Today she wore a black skirt with black leggings and a blue and purple striped hoodie. She went downstairs and had oatmeal and a glass of orange juice. She ate it quickly, said goodbye to Simone and Agatha, and ran to school. The popular group was always late for homeroom so she quickly covered all the lockers with her mixture and went to breakfast. She already had breakfast but she wanted to sit there and see what was happening.
She had a few classes, and then it was time to watch and video them spraypainting her locker during lunch. She hid in a secret hole behind the lockers and videoed them.
“Let’s write stupid nerd,” demanded Penelope.
“No, let’s write stupidface,” argued Bailey.
“We should do them both!” The rest of the popular group declared.
They started to spray paint the words and the lockers defected the spray paint and it went all over the floor. Just then, the camera ran out of battery and stopped recording. Charlotte jumped out of her hiding place and ran to the principal’s office.
She looked behind her to see Bailey, Penelope, Chloe, Izzy, and Ava chasing her. Charlotte was not very good at sports but the popular group was amazing at sports. Despite this, she ran faster than she ever had in her life. She felt like that brave, amazing person in her dream and when she thought of this she ran even faster.
“P-principal,” Said Charlotte out of breath once she got to his office. “Bailey, Penelope, and all of the popular group have tried to spray paint the lockers. I have proof.” Said Charlotte, out of breath.
“Can you show me?” Asked the principal flatly.
“Here is the video I recorded just minutes ago.” She pulled out the camera from her hoodie’s pocket and the principal watched and when it was done he went silent for a few minutes.
Charlotte walked out but she stopped halfway. She wanted to say something.
“I want to mention that Emma Caddel in the popular group had nothing to do with it and she should not get any punishment,” concluded Charlotte.
“I will make sure not to punish Miss Caddel.”
“I also wanted to say that the popular group except for Emma has been bullying me and could you try to put an end to it if at all possible?”
“I will do my best,” said the principal in a rather hopeful tone.
“Charlotte!” It was Emma.
“Hello. I just want to say that I am very sorry for getting your friends in trouble. I only wanted to do what’s right,” said Charlotte.
“It’s okay.” “Thanks for not getting me punished,” said Emma
“You said you had nothing to do with it and you are really nice.”
“They deserve it and I actually wanted to say that I would rather be friends with you over Bailey and Penelope,” said Emma.
“I want to be friends with you but, warning: I am weird,” said Charlotte proudly.
“I think weird people are the coolest people,” said Emma.
After that, they walked home together, and soon after that they were best friends and Charlotte never had to worry about the popular group again.
“Very well. You are extremely trustworthy so I know that you are not lying to me. The group will get two weeks of after-school detention and I hope that clears everything up for you,” said the principal. “Now you may go,” said the principal.
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THE END
No matter what -
Lila Sawyer
No matter how long we go without talking
No matter if we fight
No matter if I never hug you again
No matter if I see you every single day for a year
It doesn’t matter
It will never matter - I will always care for you
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Two weeks offLila Sawyer
March
13 2020
Math class is spent stapling worksheets together
“I’ll grade these when we come back”
English is spent talking about what we plan to do home What do I want to do for two weeks?
I climb in the car at three - I wave goodbye
I never went through that door the same again…
Three Months
Later
Masked up
I walk through the door
No one is here
It’s too risky
I clean out my locker
I look at all the papers
I miss having my friends edit my papers
- I miss it
- I never thought I would .
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Sonata of the Perpetual Traveller
After Casper David Freidrich’s Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog
Alex Ferry
Oh beauty, Oh wonder
Look what your own eyes see
A royal observer stands with Wind whipping through locks of hair
To experience that growing feeling
The swell of an orchestra looming still Ever rising, chords together entwined
Like the song of a violin your heartstrings resound Create that crescendo in your chest
It is as old as humanity itself , to look out over the world
And be so overfull of reverence that you lose all language
Struck by the wonder of this unknown you inhabit Blown far off course by the awe
Spectre
After Gustave Doré’s Les Saltimbanques
Alex Ferry
Without comfort, where does one look?
Turn away from grimy, dirt clad streets
Scraped knees and a bleeding head
You can’t survive there
So imagine this, dear child
Run to the arms of a queen Cards forgotten at her feet
Dreamed up comfort given in back alleyways with velveteen robes and softest fur
All mind’s companions gathered round
Here there’s some light in this city Here you aren’t barefoot and alone
Here in a world of your making Here there’s some semblance of hope
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Goldilocks. She was going on a walk through the forest with her father in search of berries to bring home. He was a hunter so whenever Goldilocks went into the forest her father would come with her to protect her. They lost track of time and the sun began to set. Goldilocks spotted luminous red specks off of the trail in the distance. She thought to herself, “Papa wouldn’t mind if I briefly left the trail to pick those berries.” When she began to head in the direction of the red spots, her father yelled, “Goldilocks, where are you going!? I told you to keep on the trail, didn’t I?”, “ I am aware, but I just noticed some berries that were shining red and looked delicious.”, she responded. However, when she looked back the berries were gone. Then, behind her, she heard a bush rustle. As she turned around, she realized they weren’t berries… but two large crimson eyes staring at her. Her body went completely numb from fear. Once she regained control, she started to run as quickly as she could. After dodging trees and jumping over logs, she tripped on a root and dropped the basket of berries. She got back up, leaving the fruit behind, and kept running. She noticed a house whose lights shone in the night while scanning the area for whatever beast was following her. In an effort to escape the beast, she went to the house and knocked heavily on the door in the hopes that someone would answer. Nobody responded. She knocked again… Nobody responded. She knocked once more… but nobody responded. She looked through the window to see if anybody was inside but no one was there. Then she heard the beast again, its’s footsteps coming closer and closer. She sobbed, believing that all was over, but then she tried the door handle and it was unlocked. She entered, shut the door, and noticed a lock; she didn’t want to leave her father outside by himself, but she was forced to since the footsteps had gotten too close. She was safe, warm, and starving, and exhaled a breath of relief as she noticed three bowls of porridge on the counter.
She took a bite out of the first bowl of porridge, “This porridge is too hot!” she exclaimed. Disgusted by the first she tried the second bowl of porridge and cringed, “This porridge is too cold.”. So she tasted the last bowl of porridge. “Ahhh, this porridge is perfect, just how I like it. Goldilocks felt sleepy after finishing the bowls of porridge. Her legs ached from running through the woods. She noticed three chairs, each with claw marks on them. “Hmm, maybe they have a dog.”, she observed. “Ugh, this chair is just too huge,” she said as she sat in the first one. She cried, “How could a human ever fit in there. She sat down in the second chair and complained, “This chair is just too hard, it’s like sitting on concrete.” She finally took the smallest and third chair. Oh, I fit so well in this chair. But just as she settled in, a loud crash was made as the chair split into several pieces. Frustrated Goldilocks began to go up the stairs to find a bed to sleep on. Just as she was heading up the stairs she heard a thump. She quickly turned around… but nothing was there. She took a few more steps and then heard a floor
board make a creak. She quickly turned around… but nothing was there. “Is somebody there?”, she exclaimed. No response. “Maybe it’s just an old house.”, she said to herself.
She made it to the top of the stairs and went into the bedroom. She lied on the first bed out of the three, disregarding the blood marks. Too hard. The second one was too soft. The third bed was just right. She was so tired that her eyelids started to feel heavy and the world around began to turn dark…but then there was a creek… Her eyes opened wide and she sat up in the bed. She scanned the room but didn’t see anything. She laid back down but kept one eye open. The bedroom door slowly opened… *one footstep two footsteps three footsteps* She was terrified, thoughts flooded her head. Is it the homeowner? A Ghost? What if it’s the beast!? The door fully opened and in the darkness, she saw not one not two but three pairs of evil bloodred eyes staring at her. Then three bears came through the door and charged at her. She sprang to her feet as quickly as possible and jumped out the window. She fell and screamed brutally after breaking every bone in her arm, but she had to get back up and carry on running. The bears broke down their front door and continued to pursue her. Goldilocks kept running as fast as she could, her legs went numb and she tripped on the same root from before. She saw her basket of spilled berries which allowed her to figure out where she was. “ Papa! Papa where are you!”, she screamed. Then she saw a leg sticking out of a bush, and she recognized the shoe. “Papa is that you?” she moved closer to the bush. The smell of blood filled the air… and when she got closer she saw a mauled body. She burst out in tears once realizing it was her father. Then a warm breath of air hit the back of her neck. She cautiously turned around, trembling in terror, and saw three pairs of evil, blood-red eyes staring back at her, each one looking for a meal to devour.
The End
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Sam Nye
Rewritten Fairytale
Untitled (Rewritten Fairytale)
Melby Scher
Ariel loved seafood. She seriously, seriously loved seafood. Luckily for Ariel, her family’s business had been a seafood restaurant for seven generations, which meant she’d been getting stinky fish oil on her fingers before nail polish. The restaurant was called Seb’s, after some distant person Ariel had never been told much about, and it was located on the coast of Connecticut. Seb’s was loved by both tourists and locals, a rare feat in the restaurant industry. Ariel had started actually working alongside her family her fifteenth summer. She would fry, waitress, manage, boil, and prepare until her limbs felt like noodles every night of the summer.
It was eight PM on a Tuesday, and Ariel was sitting in one of six navy blue booths spread throughout the restaurant. She spooned sardines into her mouth and inspected a hole peeled into the pleather of the booth. Ariel rested her elbows against the table and slicked back her greasy hair with her hands. To say she was exhausted wouldn’t do her justice. As she started to drift and drool farther into dreams of scrubbing the counter with dolphins, someone cleared their throat from the front door. Ariel jumped out of the booth and fixed her apron. In front of her stood a tall, brooding figure. The man wore a trench coat that was too broad at the shoulders and flowed around his ankles. Covering his forehead and hair was an old fashioned fedora. He had a large mole over his lip and bright, green eyes that peaked through right under the hat. She almost had to laugh at how typically villain-like he looked.
“Do you know who I am?” He said in a grumble.
“I don’t.. believe so?” Ariel questioned, rubbing away old mascara from under her eyes. He looked at his feet. “I see.” Ariel sat back in her booth and continued eating her sardines. The man raised his eyebrow, “You’re not questioning why I’m here?”. Ariel laughed. “If I questioned every person I didn’t know who came into this restaurant, I’d just be wasting my time.” The man nodded as though that satisfied him. Without a word, he sat down on the booth facing her. “I am here to tell you a story. Well, not specifically you, this story was just to be told to the first person I saw, and I suppose that is you.” Ariel put down her spoon and faced him. “This feels very abrupt.” She stated, her voice heavy with suspicion. “Well, maybe for you. I’ve been waiting to tell this story for decades. It has been quite a burden.” He took off his hat. To Ariel’s surprise, he had bright white hair, that of a much older man then he appeared to be. “You might want to get a bit comfortable, this is quite a long story.” Still a bit shocked at the suddenness of this interaction, Ariel slowly took off her apron and curled her legs to her chest to rest her chin. “The story begins a long time ago, around this time of summer. In this same restaurant, possibly even near this very booth we are sitting in right now. I was about twenty three years old, passing through Connecticut on my way to New York from my home town in Canada. A young man with big aspirations of becoming a photographer
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with the help of some artsy old fellow in need of a protege. It was a long drive, my car was old, and I hadn’t eaten a meal that didn’t consist of a single PB & J in days. I saw this restaurant, and decided it would be my best bet. Plus it was right next to the sea and as someone who had grown so solely on lakes and rivers, a bit of salt water would be a fun adventure. I remember going into the restaurant with my trunks in one coat pocket and a twenty dollar bill in the other. As soon as I stepped through the creaky front door, I was greeted by Mira.” The man’s eyes fell to a simple gold ring on his middle finger. “Mira was extremely beautiful, skin tanned by the sun, hair a deep dark red, and big brown eyes. She met me with a hug, which I was very surprised by. I had never been very openly affectionate with anyone, even my own family. She immediately started asking me questions about how I’d ended up at her restaurant, and where I’d come from; just sorts of things like that. See, I had come well after dusk, and she was the last person working. It was nearing the end of her shift and there weren’t any other customers. I ordered some fried fish and fries, and we shared them at a booth. We talked well after her shift was over, about nothing and anything. We shared our stories, my boring childhood in Middle-of-Nowhere Canada, and her life full of fascinating customers and various sea animals. We talked about past lovers and future job aspirations. Favorite colors and ice cream flavors. She loved the sea and hated the way people treated it. She loved her customers and the extraordinary stories they would tell her. She hated loud chewing. She was twenty four. She told me she was painfully passionate about many things, and it often got in her way.
I’ve always been a very quiet fellow, so we worked out well. I ended up staying in Connecticut much longer than I anticipated. I was absolutely smitten with Mira. She took me out to sea every night after her shift ended and we’d go swimming with only the moon and occasional creature to accompany us. I had to sleep in my car and wear the same clothes for an uncomfortable amount of time but for Mira, it was worth it. I only ate at the restaurant and disregarded all of Mira’s attempts to give me food for free. She saw life in a way I could have never understood, I still don’t till this day. All I knew was that I wanted to watch and help her do the incredible things that she always aspired to. For those few weeks I was there, we were inseparable. I met all of her family and though they teased me on my shyness they were very welcoming. And then, I got a message from home saying something had happened and I needed to get home at once. Which meant I had to leave Mira. We painfully said goodbye and I drove back to Canada. We kept in touch as best as we could, but I never got the chance to come back to her and the restaurant. She died not long after I left. She had been swimming too far out alone and drowned. Her family reached out to me and I was beyond devastated. My dear Mira had been everything to me. I took a quick leave from my job and attended her funeral. She had left me her ring and papers declaring the new name for her restaurant. The ring was from a small wedding reception we had during those few weeks. It was on the dock behind the restaurant, right above the ocean. Sure now that I think back on it we were probably too young,
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but I’m so glad we did it before-” His voice cracked and a tear rolled down his cheek. “Anyways. I’m sorry for intruding on your sardine eating. I come back here every once in a while just to see what’s changed. This time I decided I should tell someone our story. I know everyone who works here is family so I assume you are her grandniece; is Charlie your grandmother?” Ariel couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. All this time she never knew about the great family tragedy that was only spoken about in whispers and late night conversations. This man must be Seb. Ariel snapped out of it and responded. “Yeah, she is.” Seb nodded, tears still brimming in his green eyes. “I should be going. I’m glad I could tell someone about her. About us.” He got up and adjusted his hat back onto his head. Before he could turn around and leave, Ariel fought off any thoughts of awkwardness and hugged him. At first he stood utterly stiff. Seb slowly wrapped his arms back around her. “I’m really sorry that happened, Seb.” She felt him gently shudder against her chest, as if letting out a silent sob. When they pulled away from each other, he looked as if he wanted to say something. Instead he turned and walked out the back door onto the dock where he and Mira got married years ago. Ariel never saw him again.
The next morning, Ariel felt as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. She entered the restaurant and started her shift, welcoming the early birds. Soon after her mother arrived and took her place in the kitchen. “Mom, can I ask you something?”
Ariel questioned, jogging behind as her mother started preparing breakfast.
“Sure sweetie.” She said and paused her work to face Ariel. Ariel took a breath. “Have you ever heard of Seb? He visited last night.” Her mom frowned. “Ariel, Seb died two years ago.”
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The End
Pinehouse Rd.
By Eve Adrienne Holman
Ezri Colt (she/he/they)
Alois Rose Agate (they/them)
I jerk awake to the ear piercing sound of my phone going off telling me to “Wake up!¨
I roll my eyes secretly wishing my phone knew and was offended by the gesture. I reach for the stop button planning to pretend it never went off and just go back to sleep, but my finger trips and reaches over to the snooze button as the 5 minute timer begins to tick. I imagine the sound of the blaring repetitive noise and decide to finally arise from the comforting covers and inspect my closet in hopes to find a somewhat decent outfit to wear to school.
¨Ezri now.¨
I don’t pretend to not know what my mom is saying as she called me to come downstairs. I quickly get ready and begin heading down the steep carpeted stairs. My mom greets me with a warm cup of tea in a to-go mug as I put on my coat and swing on my backpack preparing to step outside. The cold November morning air cuts through the once warm air sweeping away my body warmth leaving me covered in goosebumps. I see the school bus waiting outside my driveway. I catch a glimpse of the grumpy old man sitting behind the steering wheel of the vehicle, face is wearing a disgusted expression of impatience…per usual.
“Good morning,” I murmur. He doesn’t respond. I take my seat at the very back of the school bus in the smallest one person seat. I plug in my headphones and turn on my favorite podcast preparing for the one hour bus ride to school.
Hours become minutes as I look out the window to see that we have arrived at the gate. I whip out a pocket mirror to make sure I look alright before going out into the public eye. I tuck my shoulder length black hair behind my ear and adjust my glasses only for the stick straight hair to bounce back immediately after.. I don’t have enough time to worry about my appearance anymore as people begin to unload off of the bus. I gather my things and join the line of tightly packed high schoolers waiting to leave the stuffy vehicle.
Finally it’s my turn to leave.
I start to head to class when I see one of my friends step out of their car. Their long blond hair sways in the wind as they walk and I can hear the faint noise of their keychains clattering against each other and as if it was a fight to hold on to that pink sparkly backpack.
“Alois!” I yell hoping they hear me. Their head turns in my direction with a confused look. I wave to them hoping they finally spot me. No response. I give up and finally head to class.
After what feels like ever, it’s lunch time. I peek over the line of students to see
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some kind of meaty fish thing on a bun with asparagus as a side. Absolutely not, I exclaim in my head. I think I got my hopes a little too high assuming I’d be eating today. I sat down with my group of friends. They are already talking about something. I don’t bother to ask what, I just sit and wait to go back to class.
BRING!
The school bell goes off. I start to take my stuff but the teacher suddenly commands us to go back to our seats.
He informs us that due to a rainstorm we will all have to stay two hours after school hours until we can safely head home. Chatter fills the room as students ask to call their parents, if we get food, groans, etc. I sat silently. I can’t help but begin to think about Alois. If they’re alright, if this is a problem for their family, my mind begins to dive deeper thinking about if they feel the same way I do… my thoughts are suddenly rudely interrupted by the one and only Alois outside the classroom door. They make a hand movement ushering me over to them. I get up and walk over with barely any thought except It’s Alois.
“What’s up?” I say a little too energetically
“I need a…favor,” they murmur, glancing around the room.
“Meet outside by the oak tree at 5:30 pm okay?’’
Before I can say anything they swiftly walk away leaving me at a loss for words. I tell myself it’s nothing to worry about. I mean why should I be worried? Alois wants to talk to me. I can’t stop thinking about the 45 second interaction. I’m sitting quietly reading a book at my desk as we were instructed but I’m not reading a word. My mind is too busy to be reading, then it occurs to me I might be overthinking this situation.
I’ll try and read. I decide. But before I even have a chance to pursue my efforts, we are told that buses are now arriving so we should begin to gather our things. I don’t even have a second thought before racing out the door. Once I get outside I begin to sprint to the oak tree in fear I’m too late. I let out a sigh of relief as I see them, still standing there with their back resting on the trunk as they check their phone impatiently.
‘’Alois!’’ I shout. This time they notice as they usher me towards them quickly. I jog over to them, still out of breath.
“Hi,” I wheezed, but Alois didn’t want to chat. They got straight to the point.
“You know that house on 34 pinehouse rd?” I take a breath to answer but I quickly realize they don’t want answers as I’m interrupted.
“Yeah good, I heard their backyard is really nice for… uhm… stargazing! Yeah, stargazing. Would you want to go with me?” My heart stops for a full second as butterflies fill my stomach to the brim
“ Are you asking me on a … date?” I squeak through my smile “Uhm yes? Just meet me there at 7:o0 okay?” they respond.
“Cool!” I basically interrupt with my excitement. As I’m walking away I realize…isn’t that private property? Nah no way, it’s prolly Alois’s
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aunt’s house or something. I should pay it no mind. I get on my bus and turn on Lover by Taylor Swift as I sit there practically over the moon.
I hop off the bus as I check my phone. The time reads “6:43.” I immediately take a course for Pinehouse Rd., assuming it’s better to be early than late.
After about 10 minutes of walking, I spotted Alois in the distance. A wave of excitement crawls over me as the distance becomes less distant. As I grow closer, I see Alois holding a…bag? Before I can even say hi, they instruct us to go inside “but aren’t we here to stargaze?” I ask, but they don’t respond.
Before I enter the dark sinister house, I look up to the sky only to see a thick burrow of trees with only the smallest bits of moonlight peeking through.
I see Alois heading upstairs
“What are you doing? Alois! I know you didn’t call me here for stargazing.” I feel the anger bubbling up in me as they yet again don’t respond. I follow the sound of footsteps into what looks like a bedroom to see them gutting drawers for jewelry and other expensive items.
“Alois! What are you doing? Are these even your things?” I yell. They keep their head straight down into the drawers.
“Alios, answer me!” I scream at them, hungry for some kind of answer. They look me dead in the eye and suddenly they wrap me in a hug. I don’t know whether to feel safe or scared or angry, but when I look in their eyes, they leave me speechless and I can’t help but trust them.
“We are just going to take some stuff, okay?” they whisper. I want to run away forever somewhere where I will never see them again but their words chain me to them. I don’t speak, instead I follow them handing them tools like lockpicks and wrenches until they stop in their tracks staring into an envelope. My pupils dilate in fear as they pull out a credit card. They hold it up, staring at it with a grin. I’m frozen as I see them stuff the envelope in their pocket.
“You can go,” they tell me.
“Okay,” I squeak.
As soon as I’m out of their view, I race out the house running home faster than ever. I get a text message asking me to meet them at some other location next week. Before I can think, the words “read at 9:51” are under “sure.” Little did I know that sure also meant sure for the next week and the next. They tell me they need the money to get through and can’t do it without me, they tell me I mean the world to them. I stay awake at night telling myself to be smart but then I see them and.. I can’t. We’re just taking stuff, I reassured myself until one March afternoon when they took it too far. We were robbing a house on 15th street when suddenly we hear a voice coming from the kitchen.
“‘Who’s there?”
It sounds as if the voice is from a middle aged man maybe in his forties.
“Stay here,” Alois says firmly.
I want to tell them to come back, but I’m too overcome by fear to speak a word.
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I hear a loud thud coming from the bottom of the stairs. I can’t help myself anymore. I race downstairs to see blood everywhere and a man on the floor. I turn to look at Alois to see her holding a wrench smeared in blood. Tears begin to fountain down my eyes as I stare at Alois. I’ve never needed them so much right now, but I’ve never been scared of them as much as I am right now.
We look at each other for a moment until they break the silence and say the words I’ve always wanted to hear.
“I love you.”
My jaw drops, leaving me frozen only to say “I love you, too.’’
The awkward moment is suddenly broken as we both realize we need to run. We bolt in different directions, my face still dripping with tears. I start to look back but then everything flashes through my head, the blood , the lies, the “I love you”...
I keep running.
I don’t bother to try and mask my tears as I enter my house. My mom immediately asks me what’s wrong.
“My partner broke up with me,” I say lying through my teeth, muscles tensed up like never before. My mom says something to make me feel better but I don’t hear it. I tell her I need to be alone and head upstairs. To my surprise, I immediately fall asleep.
I wake up feeling refreshed until I head downstairs to overhear the news talking about a murder scene on 15th road. It’s real, I realize. It’s really real.
I tell my mom I’m sick and I can’t go to school that day, or the next. I reason that if I can just stay in my room forever, it will be fine. And maybe it will be.
One week later, I wake up to the sound of sirens outside my door and someone calling my name, not in a friendly way though. Before I can even finish walking downstairs, I’m aggressively handcuffed and accused of murder. My heart is pounding out of my chest as I’m sobbing so much, it feels hard to breathe. Then suddenly, everything starts to go black. With the little sight I still have, I see a shooting star out the window…
God I hope it’s all a dream.
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Thayla’s View Tilly Serras
My name is Thayla Monica Feegan, and I am going to tell you my story.
I live in Carson City, Nevada. I am eleven years old. This is my first time using a diary, and I am only using one because my mom thinks that it might be good for me to jot down my feelings, if she can’t get me to tell her about them.
As of today, I am 11 years and 31 days old. I go to Cherry Port Middle School, in Carson City, Nevada. I live at 99 Fonoy Lane, with my mom, dad, little sister, and older brother. My favorite memory of living in this house is when my best friend August came over for a sleepover, and ended up staying for a week. Her parents had gone to Florida for the weekend, and wanted to leave her here for the weekend, and forgot to pick her up when they got back. So, we just decided not to tell them, and she was still here until Sunday, and BAM!... week-long sleepover.
A similar thing happened this weekend.
I was walking outside my house to get the mail from the mailbox, when, out of nowhere, August came flying down the street, on her scooter, holding a backpack and a sleeping bag.
“INCOMIIIIINNNGGG!” she yelled, landing hard on the hot concrete. I jumped back before she could land on me. “Augie! Are you ok?!?!?!” I screamed, scared my friend had scraped her knees. At the time, I had not realized she had been wearing knee protection. She got up, brushed off the dust on her skirt, and said “Offf cooourse I’m okay! I’m August Seemson! What did you expect?” I giggled when my friend had only just realized her scooter was slowly wheeling down the hill she had just rode up.
“OHNONONONONONONONOHNO!!!!!!” She yelled, running after the now faster scooter. She ran back up, and said, “Eh, I’ll get it later,” all out of breath and sweaty. “Anyway, what’s up, weekend-long roomie?!” “Really?!?!?! Are you sure?! “ yes!” August answered. “YAAAAY!” I squealed. My BFF was sleeping over for the whole weekend.
We went inside, and locked the door behind us. “So,” August said, “what do you want to do?” “Well, would you like to make friendship bracelets?” August ran over to the crafts table. “Of course I do! 2 friendship bracelets for 2 best friends!” I smiled. I ran over to the bin holding the string and beads. She looked at her ringing phone. “Oh, it’s my mom. I will be right back. Don’t use all the pink beads!” “Ok!” She left the room. Soon, she returned, with a frown and tears in her eyes. “August, are you ok?” “My dog
just ran away… my mom doesn’t know what to do.” “OH NO! You can go home, if you want,” I said. “Um, no, I think it’s ok. Maybe he will turn up. He is old, so he probably just got lost…” she said gloomily. “Oh! There she is again.”
She answered her phone. “Hi, mom! Oh! That’s great! Ok, thanks! Love you. Yes, I will tell her. Bye!” She hung up. I stared at August, and nodded my head and raised my eyebrows and yelled, “SO?!?!” She burst out talking, without taking any breaks to breathe at all. “They just found my dog on the other side of the road! He just wanted to find my mom, and he is pretty old, so he accidentally wandered a little too far.” “OMG! THAT’S GREAT, AUGUST! So are you going to stay?” “Thayla…I was NEVER planning on leaving!” “YAY!” I squealed. August ran over to the craft table, took a large handful of different colored beads, and said, “so! What color do you want your friendship bracelet? I figured we could make each other’s bracelets?” “Ok!” I said. “I’ll get the string!” We started running over to the string bin. She stopped. “Are you ok?” I asked. She looked at me. “I just realized, before I forget, I want to tell you something. I think you will love it! My mom told me, and I forgot to tell you. My mom asked your mom if you could go get your ears pierced with me. Your mom said yes! She said we could get them pierced today, if we wanted to. I spoke to your mom on the phone, and she said she will drive us to the mall, and afterwards we can get bubble tea!” “Oh Wow! YAY!” I ran closer to my friend, and she ran closer to me, and we gave each other a big hug, and soon released me. “Wait, I just remembered your mom called yesterday, and said that at our next sleepover, meaning now, hint hint…” “Yeah?!?!?! AND!?!?!?!?”
“SHE SAID WE CAN GO TO SEE THE K.O BATTLE OF THE ROCK BANDS!”
“OMG!!!” August screamed with excitement. “Oh, but what are we going to wear? AND did you get tickets? And did you check with your mom?” “YES! Of course I did, August. Don’t worry! I also got you a silver knee-length skirt and white tie shirt, the beautiful outfit you saw in the window of that boutique the other day, but did not have the money for? This ring a bell?”
August ran back over, and threw her arms around me, embracing me in a hug that was so big, I could barely breathe. Let me tell you, that was the best sleepover I have ever had, and thanks to August, I had the confidence to come to school on Monday, and share my secret hobby and style with the WHOLE class! I came into school, wearing a pair of sparkly black ballet tights, a gray and pink polka dotted skirt, 2 different shoes, one pink and one yellowish orange, and a green button down flannel with a blue tank top underneath. I had been scared to show the class my style for months! Everybody already thought of me as one of the class nerds, or one of the dorks, or maybe even a geek. For months I had been so scared that they would judge my favorite thing, making
“OMG! YOU ARE THE BEST… FRIEND… EVER!”
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weird outfit combinations, (even though they were not weird to me, they were fun, and childish, the two things I love most style-wise), and wearing them. I came in, ready to give an oral report on the importance of laws against smoking, and while I was walking, trying to get to the whiteboard without any rude comments, I held my head high, and gave a smile and a thumbs up to August, who had been helping raise my confidence to do this all weekend during the sleepover. I was so scared of what my classmates would think, but then I had a breakthrough. I realized I don’t really care what my classmates really think! I walked down the middle of the classroom, with pride and happiness all at once. I felt like a million pounds had been lifted off my shoulders. A few kids laughed, a few waved, and a few pointed and stared.
But August, she helped me so much. That day at the K.O battle of the rock bands, she had convinced me to show anyone who was willing to see my new style. I was scared someone would see my secret style, and make fun of me for it. But August assured me I shouldn’t worry. And SO many people told me that my outfit rocked! I was so happy, and I felt so confident in myself, I went to school the next day looking like that. August showed me what it was like to be yourself. In all those years of elementary school, when August had stood up to those bullies, and used her voice when I couldn’t, she had helped me realize that it was important to be yourself, and if other people won’t accept who you truly are, then they don’t need to, because there is no point in having friends who won’t look at you and think “Friend, not foe.” And if they don’t accept you, they are – foe.
So, yeah, there I was. Walking down the center of the room, in between many desks, watching a few kids laugh and point at me. But do you know what I did when they did that to me? I said “well, that’s ok. Be yourself! If you can’t accept that this is who I am, and this is who I want to be, then yourself, and myself, do not need to be friends with each other.” Each person would start awkwardly scoffing, acting cool, and after I passed their seat, they sulked down into their chair, and August made each of them write their name in the Book of Shame. That was the punishment August came up with designed for the bullies. I walked up to the front of the room and whistled to get everybody’s attention.
“I am Thayla Monica Feegan, and I want to be a hairdresser/fashion designer, even though you all have heard me say I want to be a doctor on “Sharing Your Dream Job Tuesdays,” because I was too embarrassed to tell you guys about my actual dream job. Then I realized, I don’t care what you all think about me! This is ME! THAYLA! And I am wearing a skirt, and tights, and many different colored tops and 2 different shoes, and 5 bracelets of all different colors, shapes, and sizes, and I LOVE IT!!!” I yelled loud enough for the whole class to hear, as I stood on top of the teacher’s desk.
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Then another.
Soon, the whole class was cheering and clapping and hooting and whistling.
“Thayla! Thayla!” was chanted by some of the kids in the classroom, even from one of the bullies! August ran over to me, hugged me, and told the Principal, who happened to listen in on our conversation, to make sure all the bullies would be punished for their behavior. They all got lunch detention. I am Thayla…Monica…Feegan… And this has been my story. Thanks for listening, journal, and thank YOU for accepting me. Thayla, over and out.
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Brooklyn Dottin
A dark cloud hangs over me. I cannot see far ahead.
I turn my back against the world. I am filled up with dread.
I seek peace in the macabre I feel a weight upon my chest. Perhaps then if I were just gone Things then would be the best.
Will you feel better?
I do not think so.
What will you do?
I do not know.
What can I do?
Nothing right now.
Speak to me now I am having a cow.
I am speaking right now Is that not enough?
Boy, you are surely Being quite tough.
Why can you not
Simply be fine?
Must I put on a show?
One fine day
As per usual I lie in my room
Partake in my ritual
When I hear a voice
“Why do you not make noise?”
“Who are you?” I venture to ask
“None of that matters, I have a task.
I am here to make you better
I am quite the mood-setter.”
“How do you plan on doing that?”
“I am quite sharp just like the cat.
I am sure I can figure it out.
Tell me why you are sad.”
“I know not why, yet I just am.
My life is a series of ‘oh, damn I think I wish to harm myself. Even to end myself’”.
“Well, that seems rather tough. But not to worry.
I think I have a solution. Channel those feelings elsewhere”.
“Like, where?”
“Well, to other people
I sense your confusion.
I say, if you do not want the pain A good way to abstain Is to share it with others.
They will gladly take it
You shall feel good again. The method is up to you.
I wish the best to you
In your quest to end the pain”
“Come again?”
“You shall have to burden the rest Only then shall you get rest. This method is the best. You must figure the rest.
Afterwards, you shall feel relief. You shall be saved from feeling grief.
You shall never feel like this
Ever again in life.”
“Really, it is as you say?”
“Yes, exactly as I say.
You shall have a wonderful day
If you climb up this hill
Do you agree with me?
Will you follow through with this?
Will you take me up on my offer?”
“Sure I will, sure I will, sure.”
In their bedroom I do lurk.
88 89 Sure,
I will.
A mild being, perfect to hurt. Fast asleep, blissfully ignorant Of their fate to befall. This one was a kind old soul One with energy, none with strife. I approach closer, shoot my shot Their smiling face, it does fall. About the place I do chase them Dodging and ducking the shots I make. This one is full of energy, life Not for long, my hate is rife. This one got everything done This was a productive one Well, let us see how much they can do Once I have taken their life.
In their pursuit, I feel some relief Perhaps this strange person was right. I am feeling a bit better. I am getting some life Back into me.
I am rather enjoying this. Perhaps I shall do more So that I can feel much better. I am getting some life Back into me.
“You are doing great Look at you now. You are simply glowing I am proud of you, now You can feel good”.
“Oh, I am still going”. I am now determined To finish the job. I have unfinished business I am now on a roll. So I must go I have unfinished business.
I hunt them down, I kill them off Then onto the next one Beings of light, beings of hope Beings ambitious, beings of work. I slay them all, take all their souls I am now up on top.
“You are doing great”, they say.
“I can hardly wait”, I say.
“Now I have my peace,” I say.
“No, that is not enough You have more to do” they say.
“You must do this to everyone Or else you will feel the weight again”.
“Sure I will, sure I will, sure.”
“Must I continue this charade?”
“Yes, you must, yes you must.”
“I have done my work, I win”
“You are nowhere near done.”
“Must I kill you to stop this all?”
“Yes you must, yes, you must.”
“Then I shall have to try So that I can be done.”
“Try….”
What a revelation
This strange person wants me dead They hold a knife against my head I dodge them, just barely.
They catch me, they wrestle me To the ground, what may be found Is a sort of malice turned towards me. They have turned against me. We tussle, we turn, we twist, we try To stop the other from upper hand.
Somehow, I am now underneath For the kill, for the kill
The Twisted Reaper shows their face. They do now brandish the knife
“Now, you shall have to die”
I go on to continue the chase Of the feeling of hopefulness
“Sure I will, sure I will, sure….”
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The Correct Story of Cinderella
By Norman the Millipede
Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl called Cinderella, blah blah blah… isn’t that how all the incorrect retellings of this story start? Well I, Norman the Millipede will be telling you what actually happened to Cinderella, as I bore witness to every twist and turn the course of her life took. Before I get into the correct story of Cinderella’s life I feel obliged to tell you why I, the reputable millipede that I am, know what happened better than anyone else. It all started when my family disowned me as they said I was too extravagant, and that they couldn’t afford me. You see, I have always been a fan of the finer things in life, I’ve always had a refined palette. For example I enjoy artisanale aged cheddars accompanied by a bottle cap full of 1984 Chateau Smith Haut Lafitte (its a french red wine). To this day I still think to myself, why did they find it so hard to just go fetch me a piece of cheese and a bit of wine? It wasn’t costing them anything except time and dignity. In my opinion that wasn’t too much to ask of them, after all, it was their choice to have me, did they think it was going to be easy? Anyway one night I was wallowing in my sadeness (I have to admit I was a bit sad when my family disowned me)-- whilst enjoying a locally sourced goat’s milk brie (I like to support small local businesses)-- it came to me! The second best idea I’ve ever had. Obviously the first best idea I ever had was the one where I’d decided to put fig chutney on this thin bit of bread, it was very crispy, almost like a cookie but thinner and savory. What an amalgamation of flavors and textures truly life changing, I highly recommend. But I digress, where was I? Oh yes, the second best idea I’ve ever had, it was to move into one of these gigantic human houses. They seem to keep all the good food there. At first these enormous animals had seemed intimidating, they stomped around and talked loudly. Part of me thinks they’re permanently in a bad mood. I went from house to house searching for one that fit all my criteria, which was: good food, a nice view, a comfortable place to sit and admire the nice view, and NO pigeons. The audacity of those filthy animals baffles me. Eventually I came across a house that ticked all my boxes. It was none other than Cinderella’s house. Enough about me, my riveting life story, and the evidence testifying to my qualification of knowledge about Cinderella’s real story.
Cinderella’s life story is almost as tragic as mine. Just as I arrived Cinderella’s mother was being traded for a mean nasty old woman, it seems that when one of these animals gets bored of the other they just swap them out, I wish I could’ve done that with my parents before they had done the same to me. Unfortunately this new woman didn’t just come with a lot of wrinkles and smile lines, but included in her package were two nasty small versions of herself. My guess is that the people who supply wives needed to get rid of this woman’s two smaller versions in order to make room for their new stock, so they had a buy one get two free sale; I wish they had done that type of deal for handcrafted celtic smoked salmon. These two smaller versions of that big old monstrosity who I assume are sisters, were horrible to poor old Cindy. I refer to Cin
derella as Cindy to illustrate the casual nature of our relationship, despite the fact that she doesn’t actually know me; should I be found out to be living a life of culinary luxury alongside them all I fear I would be put out on the street. These two sisters would always laugh and make fun of her dancing, oh I think I forgot to mention, Cindy is a dancer. As soon as her mother was traded for the terrible trio, she seemed to take an interest in dancing. She would wake up at the crack of dawn and start to dance, it was quite incredible really, she would dance, and then breakfast would be ready, she would dance and then the kitchen would be clean. Sometimes she would dance with objects, like this one long wooden stick with bristles on the end that would brush up against the floor. Or this plastic rod with a bit of fur at the end that looked like a fox’s tail, she’d wave it around as she twirled and all the dust would disappear. The terrible trio would always make fun of her dancing and tell her it wasn’t good enough. Cindy would always sleep on the floor. My guess is that it keeps her back nice and straight, as a dancer with a hunch back is never a good look. For some reason she always chose to sleep near the fire palace so she was always covered in ash and soot. No wonder she was named “Cinder-ella”. Cindy’s dad wasn’t around much anymore. He wasn’t too nice to Cindy either, he seemed to go into hiding after that nasty old bum showed up. I often wonder why he chose to trade his wife for her. I know what it feels like to be abandoned, as that is what both my parents did to me; I often felt as though I could relate to Cindy. We both lost parents although of course my situation is worse as I lost both my parents.
As the weeks go by nothing changes. I’m still making the most of the delicious selection of food that I have access to. Clearly this new way of living suits me as my skin has been glowing recently, not a pimple in sight. One afternoon a letter came through the mail box, I heard a bunch of squeals and squeaks. I thought someone had died, maybe that horrible old woman had finally met her end. I started to get my hopes up, but as I turned the corner I saw that the old hag was very much still breathing, unfortunately. The hideous woman and the two sisters were all huddled around a piece of paper. Clearly this must have been the nicest piece of paper they had ever seen, it may have even been cardstock. I do love a good bit of cardstock. After admiring the cardstock for a prolonged amount of time, they all ran upstairs. Before I knew it they were all back, but this time they were wearing hideous dresses, that were covered in frills, lace, and glitter. Something you might not know about me is that I am a fashion consourer, I am a big fan of the avantgarde, more is more fashion movement that is going on at the moment, but this looked like a trainwreck. They played around with their hair, and were then out the door. The sound of their shoes pitter pattering against the wood. A few minutes later I saw Cindy run into the room. She was wearing the most amazing gold and silver dress, now that’s what I call fashion I thought to myself.
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Then she ran out the door. Cinderella came home first and changed into her old dirty clothes, who knows why because if I was her I would never take that dress off. Then was the return of the terrible trio. Everytime they left the house I always hoped they would never come back, but, inevitably, every time they did. The exact same series of events happened three days in a row! The ogre and the two sisters would put on these atrocious dresses and leave; a few minutes later Cindy would come running in, wearing a stunning dress and would then run out the house. One day Cindy came in wearing the most gorgeous gold slippers I had ever seen. I was dying to know where she got them and if they came in a size millipede. On the fourth day this cycle had seemed to come to an end, no one was running out the door in dresses. I was midway through preparing my pre-dinner charcuterie board, when I heard a firm knock on the front door. The door opened and I heard a gasp, so of course I quickly rushed over to see who it was. To my disappointment it was some mediocre looking man, dressed in very fancy clothes, and he was holding one of the gold slippers Cindy had on the other night. This okay looking man gave Cindy’s slipper to the youngest sister, she is also the most spoiled sister, might I add. The girl took the slipper and went into the back room. She came out with the slipper on her foot, but the slipper is overflowing with Ketchup. Now this was something I’d never seen before, but I am all in favor of employing outside the box tactics when it comes to making a fashion moment work, but this just seemed to be an extremely messy way to be able to slide that big, nasty, foot into a shoe that clearly didn’t fit. Cindy’s feet were much smaller than those of the two disgusting sisters. The ordinary looking man and the youngest sister leave together, this man does not seem to notice or care about the ketchup spilling out of the shoe, good riddance I thought to myself. To my surprise the man and the young sister came back just minutes after they left. The man had a look of disappointment on his face and the young sister looked as though she was about to burst into tears and then pass out. The sister wiggled her foot out of the slipper that was still drenched in Ketchup and she spitefully handed it over to her older sister. The older sister went into the back room. When she came out she also had the slipper on her foot, she seemed to also use the ketchup trick as her foot was also too big. The man and the older sister left, but they came back even quicker than the younger sister did. The man had a look on his face that was on the verge of anger and the older sister looked distraught. The not incredibly handsome looking man and Cindy’s father started to have a conversation. The conversation didn’t look friendly, but they weren’t arguing either. I heard the creaking of the stairs, I looked up to see Cindy coming down the stairs, she looked anxious like she might be sick. The man hands her the shoe, but unlike the other girls she doesn’t go into the back room, she slips it on right then and there. It clearly fits like a glove, no Ketchup lubrication needed. The man looked at Cindy and then they kissed. If I’m honest I think Cinderella’s standards are too low, this is probably due to her lack of leaving the house. Cindy and this indifferent looking man held hands and left the house, without saying goodbye. I never saw Cindy again after that. A goodbye would have been nice, but of course not worth blowing my cover and jeopardizing my
living situation. Enough about Cindy, now back to me. I seem to have developed a drinking problem after Cindy left, so I’m thinking about maybe moving house, maybe the change of scenery will distract me from the wine. I am glad to say I have now embarked on the journey of house hunting. I have come across some lovely houses. I am thinking of making an offer on one I saw the other day. I shall keep you updated on how the process is going, but for now everyone is living happily ever after for the most part and I’m still working on my sobriety journey. The End
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ORIGINAL TASTE: DELICIOUS & REFRESHING
Luke Henry
In an auditorium in Chicago, there’s yelling and cries from all ages. Old men scream for help. Young women demand change. One man, slightly old and fragile, walks out on stage, papers tucked neatly under his right arm. Suddenly everyone goes quiet. He walks up to a podium, puts down his papers, clears his throat, and says, “Ahem, my fellow Americans today is a good day to be an…American.” There’s an uproar in the crowd. The devout clap and scream, supporting their savior. He is another bureaucrat who says and does the same thing as those before him. He is corrupt and only interested in furthering his fortune. He cares little for the country. While his name might differ from the men preceding him, he is a carbon copy. The man’s name holds no importance or truth, just as his words hold no importance or truth.
He wraps up his speech saying, “This time things will be different.” The crowd yells and jumps up in down as one in support of their great leader, a man who holds the light in a dark and narrow cave.
He exits the hall and gets into his eggshell white Rolls Royce. “Those idiots will eat up anything I say, won’t they?” His chauffeur, Stewart, in a well-maintained light blue suit and cap says and does nothing but nod in concerned agreement. The man is driven to his house on Burling Street; protected by dogs and steel fences, the house clearly tells all not worthy to stay away. The man exits his car in a hurry to avoid the cold without bidding farewell to his chauffeur. This bothers Stewart rather little; he has grown tired of hearing the man’s empty words.
At his house, the man situates himself comfortably in front of his massive roaring fire. It’s a cold day but the man has everything he needs, including a large glass of rum. It’s a living room of a king adorned with large dark paintings of nobility and a warm but disturbing atmosphere. He sits devoid of thought on his leather throne–not yet gold but he’s got something in the works–when something curious happens.
There is a violent knock at the door. Thinking they will go away, he takes a swig and closes his eyes. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! “Claude,” he yells to his butler, “answer the damn door.” Not a moment later, the old weathered Claude walks in with a young handsome woman. She is holding a fine leather suitcase and wears an equally fine flame red pantsuit.
“Might I ask your business here at such an hour?”
The man’s face is flaming red with annoyance and rum.
“Sir, I’m here on behalf of Coca-Cola. Would you allow our thirst-quenching elixir to be labeled as a vegetable in school lunches?”
The man chuckles, intrigued by her proposal. “Well, perhaps, but I’m gonna need some encouragement.”
The woman winks at the old man and lays her suitcase on the arm of his throne.
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“One million dollars awaits you if you make the right choice,” says the woman, pressing two golden buttons and popping open the top of the briefcase. The stacks gleam in the firelight, illuminating politicians that look just like the man.
“Say no more. I’m all yours,” says the man, attempting to spare the last bit of his dignity.
They laugh together and shake hands. Claude appears in the doorway and shows the young woman out.
Finally alone again, the man looks at his rum and decides to treat himself.
“I’ve been good. I think I deserve a Coke,” he says aloud. Raising his voice, he yells, “Claude, I demand a Coke.” His voice echoes triumphantly throughout the empty manor.
Claude, doing as he’s told, brings his employer a Coke. It would be a lie to say Claude doesn’t want to shake up the Coke and watch as his employer gets drenched from head to toe. Claude is far too scared of the man though and sees no need to be yelled at again.
As he is handed the Coke, the man inspects the can. “Phosphoric acids, high fructose corn syrup? Who even knows what that mumbo-jumbo means? All I know is that it’s bad for me.” He pours some of the bubbling liquid into his glass of rum and sets the now-mostly-empty can on the floor, and starts to drink.
He drifts off into a dream and awakes with a headache in the early hours of the morning. He slowly opens his eyes. He’s awfully parched and grabs at the floor where he left his almost- empty Coke. A shock runs down his spine. There is only floor. There’s no can. No Coca-Cola.
Suddenly he hears a noise. It sounds as if someone is in the room with him. He tries to calm himself. It’s probably just Claude, he thinks, attending to work.
Out of the corner of his right eye he sees something shiny. He turns his head to see a Coke can, as tall and wide as a refrigerator, looming over him. The man’s hands quake, but he says in a snobby tone: “And who might you be?”
The can calmly retorts, “And who might you be?”
The man is scared and enraged. But mostly enraged. He shouts, “Do you know who I am?”
The can calmly responds, “Do you know who I am?”
The man, with all the anger he can muster, says, “You are nobody. In fact, you are nothing. You are just a can– a can that needs to be recycled.”
The can stands silently for a moment, then says, “You are nobody. In fact, you are nothing. You are just a can– a can that needs to be recycled.”
The man stares at the can of Coke, shimmering in the morning sun. He’s confused. Why is this Coke can simply repeating him?
“Claude,” he yells, “remove this ‘thing’ at once!”
“Claude,” the can yells, “remove this ‘thing’ at once!”
The Coke looks at the man with pity and disgust. Unsure of what to do, the man clenches his hands and punches the can with all his might.
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His attack does nothing but injure him. His hand is now a mangled wreck. “AHHHHHHH!” screams the man.
The Coke does not speak or move, but a slight smile appears on the cold aluminum face of the can.
The man backs away from the can.
The massive can of Coke takes one step and catches up to the scared, frail man.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?” screams the man.
The can looks at the man and shakes his head.
The man’s voice whimpers, “Money, women, fame, cars–I-I-I can give you anything… M-m-more C-C-Coke?”
The Coke looks deep into the desperate man’s eyes.“You can never–and will never– understand. You are but an empty can and will be treated as such.” With the force of a lion, the Coke picks up the man and crushes him between his hands with ease. He drops what is left of the man on the floor and starts to walk away.
The man–not quite dead yet–cries,“What are you?”
The Coke looks back nonchalantly and says, “What you are.”
The Coke smiles as he watches the man’s expression change from bewildered to empty. The man was gone. The Coke picks up the body and throws it into a far corner of the lavish room.
At that moment, Claude walks in. “I heard a lot of noise this morning. Is everything okay?” asks Claude begrudgingly.
“Quite fine, Claude, quite fine,” says the Coke.
Claude leaves the room, not wanting to talk to his employer a minute longer.
The Coke looks at a mirror that is placed near the man’s body and peers into it. His reflection is the reflection of the man. Looking at the body of the man crumpled in the corner, the Coke sees an empty, discarded can.
A few days later, the man (who now lies dead) is to give a speech.
On a stage like any other, in a hall like any other, we hear yelling from all ages.
People are demanding a change, putting their everlasting trust in their fearless leader. They believe he will save them from this dark, uncertain land.
A can walks out on stage with papers under his right arm. He shimmers under the stage lights. Everyone goes silent. “Ahem, my fellow Americans, today is a good day to be an…American.” There’s an uproar in the crowd. They clap and scream. He is only another bureaucrat who says and does the same thing as those before him. He is corrupt and only interested in furthering his fortune and not the country. While his name might differ from the men preceding him, he is a carbon copy and is to be recycled like his predecessors.
MISSION STATEMENT
Oakwood Friends School, guided by Quaker principles, educates and prepares young people for lives of conscience, compassion, and accomplishment. Students experience a challenging curriculum within a diverse community, dedicated to nurturing the spirit, the scholar, the artist, and the athlete in each person.
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