The Oracle Literary Magazine Fall 2020

-The Oracle-

Oracle

Poetry - Art - Photography - Short Stories

Bishop Canevin High School

-1-

Letter from the Editor Hello and welcome to the 2020 fall issue of the Bishop Canevin Oracle. The Oracle is our literary magazine that showcases student writers and artists. Each school year, the Oracle publishes two volumes of poetry, short stories, art, and photography for the Bishop Canevin community.

I would like to start off by thanking all the contributors to this issue of the Oracle. Without your submissions and permissions to use your works, this magazine would not exist. Your creativity and courage allow others in the Bishop Canevin community to witness young minds and their individual perceptions and ideas.

I would also like to thank Mrs. Charlotte Smith, English Department Chair and moderator of several activities including The Oracle.

The cover of this edition is an acrylic painting that I completed in the late springtime. It can be interpreted to symbolize anything from temptation to attraction to good will.

The Oracle is a great opportunity for students to have their works published. I have submitted to the magazine since freshman year and have encouraged others to do the same. Reading through the submissions, I found that sometimes, some people who you would least expect end up being phenomenal writers. There are many works within this magazine that may surprise you, and I hope that they also inspire.

Theresa Skindzier Editor

-The Oracle-

Contributors Sierra Abbott Nicholas Adamski Christian Andrews Turner Anselm Makaylah Ballard Sarah Barron Gianna Biechner Izzy Beichner Josie Bochicchio Lenci Boehme Nataley Brock Madison Carothers Maria Cicchino Alysha Cutri Justina Duffy Erin Egan Dominic Elliott Shiloh Feeney Grace Gaita Gabriele Gerbino Abby Gerchow Gillian Golupski Keira Kozlowski Renee LaGrosse Ashley Lippold Meadow Lokaitis Clara Lucas Tegan Matteo Megan McCartney Matthew Mell Jack Mickle Kate Mickle Ronald Schiavo Cecilia Sciullo Aliyah Scott Jordan Shevlin George Shorthouse Francis Skindzier Theresa Skindzier Braden Travis Dominic Varley Ella Whalen Carmen Worrell Alexis Zurbola Natalie Zurbola

Makaylah Ballard

-How Do You Know?-

-3I woke up pretty early this morning. I got out of bed, brushed my teeth, took a shower, brushed my hair, and got dressed. This normal sequence of events happens everyday. My life up to this day has been normal. Nothing sad or exciting has happened. It has all been normal. I eat toast and tea for breakfast everyday. I go to school and live a normal life.

However, I wish my life wasn’t normal. I wish it had excitement or even sadness. Something.

Anything.

As I drive to school I ponder a question, “How do you know?” This question sticks to my brain like no other. How do you know someone’s truth? How do you know that this is actually real? How do you know my life is actually normal? Normally it's ‘What if?’ but in my case it's ‘How do you know?’ In my car I have the song ‘Turning Page’ by Sleeping At Last playing. This song is like food to my brain. It helps with my pondering amongst my question.

So as I said before. My life is pretty normal, but how do you know I was telling the truth?

How do you know whether or not I am real? That’s the thing you have no idea whether I am telling the truth and whether or not I am in fact real. Do you see why I ponder this question?

No? Not yet? Well you’ll see soon enough.

I pull into my designated spot in the student parking lot. Mine is painted pale purple with a thought bubble. In the thought bubble it says, well look at that it says, “How Do You Know?”

I guess you could say I have had this question for quite a while. I get out of my car and start walking towards the building. Out of nowhere comes my dearest friend, Lucas. Lucas has been my best friend since freshman year.

“Look who it is! How’s that little brain of yours this morning?” Lucas asks.

“Same as every morning,” I smile, “and how is yours?”

“Mine? How do YOU know I have a brain? I could be a robot you know.” I laughed at Lucas’ remark. He is always questioning my great question. He says there’s no point in trying to understand the universe. That I will find my own understanding eventually. He keeps me from going insane.

“So I will see you after homeroom?” I ask. After homeroom we both have study halls. As tradition, since we live everyday as if it's the last, we go and listen to music on the rooftop.

“Of course you will! Do you know who you’re talking to? I would never miss it!”

I laughed and went to my homeroom. So now you must be wondering, who am I? I haven’t given you a name or even a hint at whether I am a girl or a boy. So who am i? The answer to that question is quite hard to answer, but I guess I will tell you. Just not right now.

I tend to take pieces of every moment and internalize them. So when I tell you I have a great memory, would you believe me?

“Good Morning all you lovely teenagers! How is everyone today?” My homeroom teacher asked. She is always so positive and cheery!

“We are all very happy to be here.” responded Jack. Jack absolutely hates school with every ounce of his body.

And just like that the bell rang and it was time to go to the roof. I went up there and found Lucas sitting on the ledge as always. I grabbed my headphones and hit play. With the press of a button ‘Runnin’ by Naughty Boy and Beyonce started playing. The music sent a surge to my brain. I looked over at Lucas who was smiling at me. At that moment I internalized it.

I internalized that I am not normal. I am far from it. I am in fact as real as you are. And who I am is closer to anyone as anything could be. I am you. We are one person. So you see, How do you know? Well I know because I am reading this and so are you. We are one in the same.

-The Oracle-The Oracle-

Photos by Alysha Cutri

-5-

To die Christian Andrews I wear a mask for them.

Who is them, you say?

Well, let me disperse an emotional display.

A duo gets married and works to have kids, struggles to pay for them and stays in love in the midst.

Time has passed, for these kids have gone on to sprout like a sunflower within their own field and have their own children.

Big and bad stumbles in one of the finest illnesses never seen before.

People are asked. Asked to do minimal things. To try.

This seems almost too much! Too much?!

The children are struggling to pertain to this minimum. They are failing to try.

The duo who was once the strongest the world had seen, is forced to die.

-Gianna Beichner-Sarah Barron-

Francis Skindzier

-A Day in the Life of a Gym Ceiling Light-

-The Oracle-

George is rudely awakened at 6:30 a.m. to the movement of something underneath him. It did not matter what it was, but it was his job to illuminate the tiles underneath him so that the thing could see where it was. George looked left and saw that his secret crush Andrea was still sleeping to which he was only slightly dismayed. When he looked right, he saw that his buddy Luke was up and, as always, was over the top and obnoxious for that early in the morning. George called to Luke, “It’s not even seven yet; how are you this peppy?” To which Luke responded, “You know it’s because I am the first light on the chain, so I receive the most energy.” “Whatever,” thought George and he realized that no one was on his tiles, so he went back to sleep.

At 7 a.m. George woke up again; this time, he realized he wasn’t going back to sleep as there was a low murmur of chatter coming from somewhere beneath him. Looking around, he noticed that everyone was up except for Dave, the corner light.

George felt both sadness and envy for Dave as the corner was a little used spot in the gym so he didn’t have to light it up often and could sleep whenever he chose. Now it was 8 o’clock and the beginnings of another boring day were upon George. The day was fairly uneventful, and he did his standard on and off routine as needed, except for some time around 10 when there was a particularly rowdy set of children in the open space below.

These children did nothing but shout and holler and, at one, point, George was struck by a speeding projectile of what nature he had no idea. The projectile ruined his day as it knocked him off of his fixture. “Just great!” George thought as he waited the agonizingly long amount of time until his caretaker decided to come along and fix him. When George’s world was righted again, it was 3:00 and, with that, George’s work day was over Seeing nothing left to do, George decided to take a short nap and awakened once again at 6:30 a.m., just like the day before to do his daily routine once again.

-7-

-PencilDominic Elliott Having a vision of what you’re going to do When you start, you begin to think Thinking of the mistakes you’ve made Erasing the problems one after another Taking your time at your own pace Little by little with progression After a long time it becomes a masterpiece But realizing you ran out Nothing is left Constantly thinking you had only one Finally realizing all along that you left your beautiful writing of life.

-The Life of a PencilTurner Anselm I am a pencil and my life is quite interesting. First off, my home is a locker. This is where I sleep and get ready for the next day. When Monday hits, I leave my home and start munching on paper and analyzing text. I love to dance on a notebook. This is my job Monday through Friday. I always sleep quite soundly on the weekends and wait anxiously for Mondays. Once Monday comes, I resume my job; but the best part of my day is going to the sharpener. It always feels great to get a manicure!

-Is It Lead or Lead?Carmen Worrell The pencil lives a boring life. He sits there on the desk, yearning to be used, basking in the sunlight, and relishing the times he has been touched. All he strives for is to make his owner proud. The pencil tries jubilantly to roll over. He anguishes and struggles to do this so as to show off the gleaming, green print of Dixon Ticonderoga etched into his side. However, for some unearthly reason, the owner continuously ignores his attempts. The owner constantly uses the mechanical pencils and pens, which the pencil deems as inferior. The pencil’s hatred of these inferior writing utensils causes him much grief and sorrow.

All he strives tor is to make his owner proud.

-The Oracle-The Oracle-

Theresa Skindzier

-Pixar-

-9-

-EcstaticDominic Varley

-OverwhelmedAbigail Gerchow

Renee LaGrosse

Preposterously Lonely Life

-The Oracle-

Julio was an average man with an average life. He worked Monday through Saturday, from nine to five, and Julio took great pride in his accounting job.

Julio worked so much that he forgot how to actually have fun. And when Julio wasn’t working, he was usually sleeping. One could say he lived a rather empty life.

Julio was content with the fact that he had a simple, routine life, but he couldn’t deny one fact: he had spent the last five years alone and maybe he could finally move on from the memories of his ex-wife. So on one Sunday afternoon, instead of going to Lake Hills farmers market, he decided that he needed to go on a date.

Butterflies flew in his stomach as he approached his mirror, checking one last time to make sure his tie was straight. He brushed an unruly curl off his forehead, knowing that no matter how hard he tried it wouldn’t stay. “What if” questions ran through his head. “What if she doesn’t like me? What if I say something wrong…. No.” Thought Julio, “I mustn’t think like this.” And in the end, he finally left his house in a hurried tizzy.

When Julio finally arrived at Fortune Plaza, the center of Smith Town, he realized that he couldn’t find his wallet. He pulled out his phone and checked the time. 12:18. Julio took deep breaths trying to slow his quickened heartbeat. “What can I do?” He thought aloud. “Twelve more minutes.” The buzz of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. Julio pulled his phone out, revealing a text from a random number. This is a preposterous time of life for you , it read. With a shake of his head Julio dismissed the message, and he ran for Bishop Bank. Luckily, Bishop Bank was right down the street and Julio’s best friend Chad worked there.

Julio’s shoes echoed down the street as he ran, unbeknownst to him an elderly lady watched him fly past. She shook her head and let out a hearty laugh clinging onto his wallet. “I warned him,” she thought. She dropped the wallet and disappeared with the wind hoping that she saved Julio from a brutal end.

Julio made it to the bank at 12:20 and looked around in fright when suddenly sirens filled the air. Julio looked up at the news, reading the headlines. Shooting at Fortune Plaza! No injuries are reported. A young

woman is in police custody. We are hearing reports that the woman in custody goes by the name Ivy Snow. Julio gasped clinging onto his chest.

Ivy was his date! Thoughts shuffled in Julio’s head not knowing what to do, or think. One thing he did know for sure: he was never going on a date again! Julio let out a long breath. “Maybe,” he thought, “I’ll just get a dog instead.”

Tegan Matteo

- 11 -11-

Justina Duffy

-The Oracle-

-Look DownMatthew Mell

Based on the first line of Billy Collins’s “The Dead” The dead are always looking down on us, they say.

I particularly do not believe this.

The idea that these people are Phoenix-like: always alive, never dead is silly.

I paced around my house to find someone to corroborate this tall tale.

That is odd… I could not find anyone.

They must be playing a nefarious trick on me, because I remember that my whole family came over, but for what, I do not remember.

My house’s ambiance was akin to the acoustics of a library, and there was a certain dullness to it that made it look like a hospice ward.

I had capricious feelings of worry, those soon subsided though, but still my mind kept going back to the thought of the dead watching us…

Suddenly, the entire house became increasingly more torrid, there was no reason for this.

I rushed for a glass of milk, poured it, and took it back to my room.

I took a sip, it was insipid, possibly even rancid; I spit it out immediately.

My parents are going to be mad at me, I looked down at the milk splattered on the floor…

From what I saw, my physiognomy changed instantly, and the blood completely left my face.

My floor was as transparent as glass, but had a sheen to it, like a water surface, and through it I saw my family hovering over a bed, weeping…

Ella Whalen

-Clarity-

That was my bed.

- 13 -13-

-NumbnessMaria Cicchino

-FrustrationNataley Brock

-The Oracle-

-The Eyes in the CloudsNatalie Zurbola “The dead are always looking down on us, they say,�

Their inexorable watch is near impossible to prevent.

Many of these shining eyes floating above us are akin, But others are arbitrary, nefarious souls you have never even met.

God was in a tedium when he created the clouds above, For they float effortlessly like balloons in the sky, And are nothing like the insipid floorboards of a school.

A canopy of luminous fluff filled with an abundance of eyes, Is always over our heads looking down on us.

The eyes may be hundreds of miles away from us, But that does not stop them from seeing every bit of our physiognomy. They know every little move and action we make, From brushing our teeth to getting married, They are always looking down on us.

-I Wear A Mask ForGillian Golupski I wear a mask for strangers.

The old woman in the grocery store.

So she is able to see her grandchildren, At her front door.

I wear a mask for my friends.

The ones who know the deepest parts of me.

So we can share a laugh again, And share a moment of glee.

I wear a mask to protect, To lessen the risk of death.

So families do not have to stand by, And watch a loved one take their last breath.

- 15 -

-PittsburghGeorge Shorthouse Originally the furnace of the world, Smithing, striking, Behemoth of steel The metal giant of industrialist age The Colossus of production and progress A titan that carried the world on its back The city’s furnaces were a place of fire and heat. Temperatures were so high that they could instantly vaporize any living thing that got too close.

Smoke that choked the lungs and stung at the eyes came from every smokestack. The streetlights had to be left on all day due to the opaque smog that enveloped everything.

And of course, the smell, A horrible burning smell. A disgusting stench of melting metal, A smell that could possibly be the worst factor of them all But! To those who say that the flames were for nothing. I say that they were there to melt the steel that would one day form our own skyscrapers.

To those who complained about the city and soot. I say that any who strived through have gained fortitude.

And to those who claimed that the smell was unbearable. I say that any who have endured are now steadfast against any other foul scent that comes their way.

Flaming Blazing Working Fighting Persistent The flames now are stifled, and the leviathan of steel now slumbers The city is now the birthplace of a new creature, an entity devoted to improve the lives of the city's inhabitants.

This new being is paying for the sins of beasts before it It has now taken it upon itself to bring us into a new era.

Painting by Madison Carothers

-The Oracle-The Oracle-

Erin Egan

-Stainglass Pieces-

- 17 -

-A Dinner for Distinguished WarriorsA Short Story by Francis Skindzier

Francis prepared his master’s regal estate for the company that would be arriving later that night.

Francis was told that four of the realm’s greatest fighters would be dining with his master, Hank, and that he was to expect them around the hour of seven. Francis was also given a list of names and a brief description of each person who would be arriving, which read as follows: Romulus, founder of Rome and first king, built like a God Chaol Westfall, former captain of the Royal Guard of Adarlan, excellent fighter, Lord of Anielle Drizzt Do’Urden, drow elf, defender of good, has a large ‘cat’ Allanon, last remaining member of the Druids of Paranor, tall imposing figure, well-traveled At the end of the list there was a note: “All of these men are experienced warriors and extremely dangerous. It would be unwise to try and mess with them.” “So noted,” thought Francis as he put the note in his pocket and went to check the kitchen to make sure that the staff was working.

The hall clock chimed once at six thirty and that was Francis’s cue to go into the lobby and wait for the distinguished guests to arrive. There came a polite knocking at the door at six forty-five to which Francis curtly opened the door to see who it was. Standing in front of him was a man of about six feet one with curly brown hair and brown eyes. He was dressed as a noble but it seemed he would much rather be wearing a set of fighting armor, almost as if he was obliging a wife, but he still carried a sword of notable regard and worth.

“Ah, you must be Lord Westfall,” said Francis, upon observing the stature and dress of the visitor.

“That I am, but please call me Chaol. I am still unused to that title and I quite dislike it,” he replied.

“If you would follow me,” Francis said as he let Chaol in, closed the door and showed him to the banquet hall. Hank was standing by a window in the hall and Francis walked Chaol over to him to make introductions and allow for small talk until the rest of the guests arrived.

“Fifteen minutes early, just as I expected for a man such as you,” said Hank and, after a quick lookover, added, “Just as regal and loyal for a fighter and noble.”

Chaol was surprised as he had never met Hank and had arrived with some help from his friend Dorian’s magic so Hank would not have seen a carriage or any form of transportation going to the mansion.

“I suppose, but how do you know this about my character?” asked Chaol.

Hank answered, “Remember I am hosting this party and it is good for a host to know his guests. I quite literally have contacts spread through the realms. Do not concern yourself with who they are; just know that Hank has eyes, ears and hands everywhere. If something happens, I know sometimes before it even happens.” He turned to Francis and said, “I think you should go back and greet the next guest as he is almost here.”

With that, Francis curtly turned and left Chaol with Hank without questioning his master as to how he knew that a guest was soon to arrive. Francis had worked for his master long enough to know that Hank often knew something that others did not, so ambiguous instructions were pretty much normal.

No sooner had he reached the door when there was an ear-splitting crack and a rush of air that seemed reminiscent of a teleportation spell. Francis opened the door and looked up and up to the towering figure standing in front of him. The noise had been that of a being teleporting to the doorstep as the area around the massive figure was pushed away in a small concussive wave. The being that stood in front of Francis was tall enough to make the previous guest look short and seemed to emanate an ominous, brooding aura that was not lost on the experienced attendant, but it did not faze him.

“I presume that you are the Druid, Allanon,” Francis stated. The nodding of the Druid’s head was the only response Francis received. “Right this way, then. You are slightly early as all of the guests are not here

-The Oracle“I presume that you are the Druid, Allanon,” Francis stated. The nodding of the Druid’s head was the only response Francis received. “Right this way, then. You are slightly early as all of the guests are not here yet,” Francis said as he opened the door.

Allanon held out a hand and spoke in a commanding voice. “Wait. There is someone on the way up the driveway who I believe is attending this supper.”

There was a rumbling noise coming down the driveway and it was getting louder. Not one minute later did a golden chariot pulled by two great black horses come barreling up the driveway to come to a screeching stop at the foot of the stairs. The man who stepped off was dressed like a king with a red cape, shining bronze armor and a laurel wreath on his head. Surely this was the king, Romulus.

“Hello,” Francis called down from the doors of the manor house. “Are you the founder of Rome, twin of Remus and son of Mars?” he questioned just in case some basketcase dressed up and acquired a nice chariot, but one could never be too certain The man just stood there with a confused look on his face as if the words Francis was speaking were not making sense to him.

“Allow me,” said Allanon and he followed up by pointing dramatically at Romulus while muttering a few words. Suddenly Romulus glowed white briefly and then the light subsided. Sensing that something was different, Francis again asked, “Are you the founder of Rome, twin of Remus and son of Mars?”

This time Romulus threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Those I am and who else would come here like this other than I?” Francis sent for a servant to lead the horses to the stable where they would be fed and cared for.

Francis led both into the banquet hall. “It is rude to keep your host waiting,” he pointed out. Hank greeted the two with open arms and then turned to Francis. “It is getting chilly in here. Go and start the fire and make sure that the chimney isn’t blocked.”

Francis bowed and went to start the fire in the great fire pit. “How strange that he said all the guests were here. I only counted three people entering but I recall that Hank told me there would be four people attending.,” he muttered.

Upon reaching the fire pit, Francis looked up into the chimney, expecting to see the tops of the trees around the manor but, instead, Francis found himself looking up past a white mane to stare at a pair of lavender orbs. Francis stepped back and sighed. Master Hank always invited interesting guests and tonight was no exception.

“Well come on down then, Drizzt,” Francis called up as this was the only guest unaccounted for. With incredible agility, the being dropped from his position, grabbed the lip of the chimney, and flipped out to land in a neat roll.

Francis was only slightly amused and just looked at Hank who had a big cherub-like grin on his face.

“I assume Guenhwyvar is up there keeping watch?” he questioned.

Drizzt bowed and nodded yet.

Hank greeted Drizzt with a firm handshake. “Does that cat of yours eat meat?

“When it suits her,” Drizzt answered.

“Great. Then she is welcome to hunt in the forest if it is her fancy,” Hank said.

Almost immediately there was a thud outside of the window next to the fireplace, indicating that Guenhwyvar had jumped down and was presumably stalking her dinner.

Hank then told Francis, “After you start the fire, go tell the staff, although they don’t need reminding, that Master Hank keeps interesting company, and it would be unwise to disturb them.

With that, Hank walked Drizzt over to introduce him to the others, leaving Francis alone.

Doing as requested, Francis lit the fire and went down to address the servants about tonight’s especially dangerous guests, all the while thinking to himself, “All of this excitement and dinner has yet to be served. Surely tonight will be one to remember.”

--1919 -

-Power Puff GirlsMeadow Lokaitis

-Comic by Gabriele Gerbino-

-The Oracle-

Colors of Feeling Poems Sadness is blue It tastes like a frozen TV dinner It smells like rain It sounds like a train just passing by It looks like a dog that just got his bone taken away Sadness is like a merry-go-round that just doesn’t stop.

-Jordan Shevlin Joy is purple.

It tastes like sugar.

It smells like fresh cookies.

It feels like getting a new puppy And sounds like a baby laughing.

It looks like a smile on my friend’s face.

Joy is like a never-ending bowl of candy.

-Izzy Beichner Happy is blue It tastes like a shiny red apple And smells like cut grass.

It feels like a soft rug And sounds like a plane doing tricks in the sky.

It looks like my guitar strings.

-Ronald Schiavo

Fear is gray Fear tastes like the iron in blood Fear smells like the most rancid smell And feels like a bony hand against the back of your neck.

It sounds like nails on a chalkboard And looks like the most gruesome thing you can imagine.

Fear is watching your hopes slip away.

-Jack Mickle Sadness is blue.

It tastes like sour milk And smells like onions.

It feels like when something dies And sounds like rain falling.

It looks like a forest after a fire.

Sadness is when a dog dies.

-Megan McCartney Fear is dark gray It tastes like anchovies And smells like fish.

It feels like a headache And sounds like thunder in the dark.

It looks like being locked inside a room alone.

Fear is standing at the edge of a high rock.

-Cecilia Sciullo

- 21 -

Acrostic Poems

Simple light shines in the sky Under the sky everyone’s shining bright Nothing compares to the light in the sky See the colors shimmering bright and high Everything is flowing pink and blue The lower sun is beaming down on you.

-Sierra Abbott Full of Life and Optimism, the flower Will always show a sign of Ever-changing beauty and Rebirth.

-Keira Kozlowski

Haunted houses Autumn, apparition, afraid, All Hallows Eve Leaves and levitation Lanterns and the living dead October and spooky owls Wand for a wizard, witchcraft, and werewolf Eek, eek, eek Eerie time Night of treats and tricks.

-Grace Gaita Picked in the fall for Upscale outdoor dĂŠcor Many pumpkins are carved and Placed outside of houses, Keeping the Idea of fall all around.

No such thing as Halloween without pumpkins!

-Alexis Zurbola

Photo by Alysha Cutri

Both teams build adrenaline throughout Approaching the final minutes Score is all evened out Kayla dribbling up the court Easygoing would be a lie Time running out Basketball dribbles itself up the court Ali lets loose Letting it fly, she Leads the game, ending with the winning shot.

-Ashley Lippold

Clara Lucas

-The Oracle-The Oracle-

Theresa Skindzier

-Route 66-

- 23 -

Halloween Witches fly in the sky Pumpkins gleam shiny and bright All the bats are flying high The moon’s shining a yellow light.

All day it is scary With werewolves that are so hairy The full moon is in the sky And the werewolves are howling. Oh my!

The house on the hill no one goes in.

Sits there with cobwebs waiting for the next kid The goblins and ghosts sit on the steps so quiet you could hear the drop of a pin.

It’s Halloween night with no one around while the moonlight slowly goes in.

-Sierra Abbott

There are many witches Making potions so everyone itches.

They are spotted easily, wearing hats.

Many witches chase the bats.

-Alexis Zurbola

Young children fill the streets Their bags and baskets are filled with treats Hay and pumpkins are here and there And laughter fills the cool night air.

The night will be over soon And in the sky is a bright full moon The kids don’t want this night to end As they come around the street’s last bend.

-Josie Bochicchio This is the night The night cats shriek The night when people scream EEK! The night when witches fly The night when bats go up in the sky.

Spiders crawl down from their webs And the children are terrified when they raise their heads With candy littered all on the ground The children try not to make a sound.

Their steps squeak loud in the haunted house And they’re breathing more quietly than a mouse The one night you must try not to be seen The scary night of Halloween.

-Keira Kozlowski

After the sunset, kids come out, but they don’t know what will happen that night.

While trick or treating, they leave their parents, but they don’t know what kind of fright is listening.

Going up to each house they knock; the door will be unlocked.

Running around with glee, they begin to mock the witches and goblins.

But soon they stop in their tracks. First there is a crash, then a bang, then a loud clang.

Beginning to run down the street, they start to scream.

They never thought such a thing could happen to them. Their hearts are pounding.

Just when they thought life was over, the masks come off and their parents giggle.

The parents are the mad poltergeists.

-Braden Travis The neighbor’s house that shakes and quakes with spirits all inside The spirit of a wicked witch, her house is where she died.

If you listen closely you can hear children cry She has the hearing of a hare so I wouldn’t try to hide.

She is going to get you, turn your body into straw Round and round she stirs, taste the blood on her spoon She is very scary. I am scared. So should you When you cross on her side of the road, all you hear is BOO! -Aliyah Scott We moved into the house

Clara Lucas

-The Oracle-The Oracle-

Shiloh Feeney

- 25 -25-

-The Oracle-

We moved into the house On Hillcrest Lane The previous owners died But Mother never said Where, how or why.

“Beware the haunted house!” says all,

The first night was normal, Nothing out of the ordinary I was never one to believe in the paranormal, But that was before Jane visited me.

Alone they are, and roam the halls, Wishing for a friend to call.

They may be scary and impolite But the worst they could do is cause a fright.

She was about six or seven With blue lips and damp hair I noticed her the second night Sitting in my bedside chair.

“The ghosts are bad!” The kids will say But they only wish for someone to stay With them in the big, empty house The only thing harmful, a mouse.

I asked who she was And she stated her name She said her father drowned her and her mother In the bathtub in the house on Hillcrest Lane.

They dance in the grand, empty halls.

That once held wonderful balls.

They jive and hiss and hop and shake But they are only wise to have fellows to make.

We lasted about a week in that haunted house But Jane kept coming, so we had to move out.

My mom saw Jane’s mom a couple times She was scared, too.

So we moved out of the house on Hillcrest Lane.

-Kate Mickle

But there has never been a tale so tall.

The spirits inside may hiss and shake But they only wish for friends to make.

They may be cold, they may be crass, They may be filled with lots of sass.

But lean in close, and you may hear A tale as old as a hundred years.

The howls you hear are not with fear They sing, desperate for someone to hear Listen to find something pretty A sailor’s tune or a golden-age ditty.

They may be a motley crew, you might see But they only wish to be free, Free like you and me.

-Lenci Boehme