Pointer Press October Halloween Issue 2024

Pointer Press Staff

Editorial and Writing Staff: Sophia Abernathy Rennie Anderson Ava Brennan Isis Brown Roy Bucher Jaselle Cahill Zoe Celestin Tana Coulon Danya Do Alexa Fernandez Ella George Sunny Gray Kianna Hughes Annabelle Hullinger Valerie Johnson

Naveah Lemus Robles Maggie McAteer Sloane Kleven McGann Chance McGinley-Kase Eleanor McGinness Lily Peavey Design/Layout: Bella Pechtel Isabelle Zarrin Hannah Smith Cormac Sullivan Social Media Manager: Celia Thome Ava Brennan Anna Wang Nicole Witt Cover Art: Josh Yochum Sophia Abernathy Isabelle Zarrin Abraham Zipp

Contents MONTHLY COLUMNS... 6 OPINION & ADVICE... 14 POP CULTURE...

20 SPORTS...

26 NEWS...

34 CREATIVE WRITING... 50 Pointer Press ‘24

monthly columns

Principal’s Profile with Mr. Jaffe

By Ava Brennan Since his addition to the administration team at PLHS, Mr. Jaffe has been working hard to improve the school. Principal Jaffe says when he came to Point Loma, the school “needed a bit of a hug.”

The 2024-2025 school year marks Principal Jaffe’s second year as principal at Point Loma High School. Even though we are only two months into the school year, Principal Jaffe has been busy as a bee around campus. He emphasizes the importance of a principal to the school’s atmosphere. “I have the ability as principal, to set the culture by how I lead. And I think leadership matters from the top down,” says Principal Jaffe.

According to him, PLHS has been a “brilliant” school to work at because of its sense of community. He states, “Everywhere I go, someone has been to Point Loma…There’s a pride in being part of this school.”

Many students have noticed Principal Jaffe’s presence at several sporting events. He believes that “it means something to show up.” He shared a story about playing B League co-ed softball as an adult. He recalled, "My mom, who is 78 years old, and my stepdad showed up.”

Through his personal stories, he highlighted the significance, especially to youth, of creating an environment where they feel cared for and recognized.

Principal Jaffe has been setting an example for campus beautification. At lunchtime, he has been picking up trash left behind by students. He believes that the well-maintained communities have the most pride. If he could send a message to the PLHS student population, it would be to

“care enough about your community to take care of it.”

He’s looking forward to being part of the 100th year of Point Loma High School.

Club of the Month: Environmental Club

By Anna Wang The Environmental Club encourages students to learn about nature, gain volunteer experience, and engage with the local community. Meetings are every Monday in room 703 at lunch.

The Environmental Club was featured at the school’s club fair on October 16th, alongside almost 30 other clubs. Earlier in the week, each club member was asked to draw their favorite animal, and their artworks were displayed in a collage at the booth. “It was fun passing out candy and talking to other students,” said Treasurer Jehu Perez Gonalez, “and the drawings looked great.”

“The Point Loma Environmental Club strives to better our community here in San Diego,” says President Athena Lawrence.

This is done through volunteering with local nonprofits, presentations from students and experts in environmental fields, and highlighting many internships and scholarships that students can take advantage of. Last year, members organized a visit to the zoo, and there is more in store for this year, including a followup trip to the Safari Park.

“We go to a variety of community service events aimed to help and preserve the ecosystem, such as cleaning the Famosa Slough, a vital wetland habitat right in our neighborhood,” said Lawrence.

On the morning of September 21st, the Environmental Club collaborated with the local nonprofit, I Love A Clean SD, on the 40th annual Coastal Clean-Up Day. Along with CSF, Point Loma students joined a nation full of volunteers on the morning of the clean-up. Athena says she was grateful to have the chance to work with our community and other PLHS clubs, and volunteers were glad to be back at the Famosa Slough after a plant restoration event the Environmental Club led last

year. Students interacted with the wetland’s flora and fauna; the slough is one of the many unique, and highly threatened, ecosystems of San Diego.

The Environmental Club is in the process of creating a school garden at PLHS. In the meantime, the club is collecting resources, including environmental programs (internships, classes, and scholarships) that are available for students to take advantage of. Meetings are every Monday, in room 703 at lunch - stop by to see what the Environmental Club is up to next.

New Staff Member of the Month: Ms. Johnson

By Maggie McAteer Since then, she has worked at Kearny, Lincoln, Mira Mesa, and Poway, and played professionally with San Diego Winds and City Ballet Orchestra.

Although she’s only been here for a few months, Ms. Johnson says she can already see “how strong the school culture is here.” When asked what she loves about Point Loma so far, she replied, “How about that The band program has a new director! Coming from Eastlake view?! I feel very fortunate to be High School, Ms. Sierra Johnson at PLHS working with the music program in such a beautiful will teach band classes, A.P. music theory, and orchestra at place.”

The PLHS Vanguard will attend Point Loma High School. In addition, she will supervise the the Mira Mesa Field Tournament on November 2nd, and Ms. color guard team and run the Johnson hopes to bring them to Vanguard, Point Loma’s the SCSBOA Championships marching band). Ms. Johnson later in the month. attended Poway High School, before majoring in music education and flute performance at San Diego State University.

Staff Member of the Month: Mrs. Roberts

By Sloan Kleven McGann Mrs. Jen Roberts has been teaching English at Point Loma High School since 2006. For the first five years she taught American Lit, then transitioned to 9th grade English in 2011.

That course became freshman Identity and Relationships, which also focuses on ethnic studies, in 2020. In 2021, she started teaching the senior Expository Reading and Writing course (ERWC). Roberts graduated from UCSD with a Master of Arts in Curriculum and Instructional Design, and a BA in History/Writing.

“Why did I start teaching? The answer is, I don’t remember. It was 28 years ago, I have no idea why I started teaching. I needed a job, and I finished college with a history degree.

So what do you do with a history degree? You get a teaching credential…”

Roberts said in an interview.

Throughout the process of receiving her teaching credential in social studies, she volunteered with a seventh-grade class in which the teacher taught both social studies and English.

She enjoyed the experience so much that she decided to get an English teaching credential as well.

If she was not a teacher, she Diana Neebe. She also taught at believes she might have been an the University of San Diego, architect or a psychologist. “I also supporting pre-service probably would have been a good teachers in courses on literacy lawyer, like a nice one. I don’t and technology from 2011-2021. know why no one ever said, ‘Hey, “I am slightly famous, in a very you could go to law school,’ but small world of educational they didn’t,” said Mrs. Roberts. technology,” she noted. When Mrs. Roberts grew up in Los talking about her blog Angeles and moved to San Diego regarding teaching strategies for college with her husband, who that she has had since 2009, is a video game designer. She has she said, “That blog is helpful been working in the San Diego to a lot of teachers. Many times Unified School District for 28 years, I’ve gone to a conference and with 18 of those years at Point someone says ‘I really wanted Loma High School. She has two to come to your session kids and a cat named Josh. Her because I’ve been following children have been part of the your blog for years and I just Point Loma High community as wanted to meet you in person well. Her oldest son graduated to say thank you.’” from PLHS in 2020, and her In her free time, Mrs. Roberts younger son will be graduating this enjoys making sourdough spring. bread from a starter she got Mrs. Roberts prides herself in from Ms. Trempe-Thomas educating other teachers on during the pandemic, and educational technology. In 2015, listening to audio books. she co-wrote a book called Power Up: Making the Shift to 1:1 Teaching and Learning, with

opinion & advice

Redefining Truth in The Things They Carried

By Isabelle Zarrin In the obscurity of war, how can we distinguish what truly happened from what is merely fabricated? This compelling question lies within Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, a touching exploration of the effects of the Vietnam War. O'Brien is an American novelist and Vietnam War veteran known for his brutally honest recollections of his experiences as a soldier. Written in 1990, The Things They Carried blends truth and fiction as O’Brien offers insight into his feelings and those of fellow soldiers in Vietnam in the late 1960s. At the heart of O’Brien’s narrative is the concept he describes as “story truth” versus “happening truth.” Through his stories, he reveals that the definition of truth is not accurate recollections of what happened, but it is instead what felt real to those who lived through it.

The chapter entitled “How to Tell a True War Story” withholds O’Brien’s ideas surrounding the concept of fictional stories that actually happened. While the sentiment seems to juxtapose, O’Brien believes they go hand in hand. He expresses that true war stories do not uplift the listener, writing “A true war story is never moral…

If a story seems moral, do not believe it…you have been made the victim of a very old and terrible lie.”

Authentic war stories, he argues, are deeply unsettling, evoke a sense of embarrassment, and above all else, are allegiant to “obscenity and evil.”

For O’Brien, factual accuracy is trivial to the genuine emotions and realities of the soldiers. He portrays the complicated nature of war, prompting readers to contemplate the extent to which truth is communicated by soldiers over time, and how much it ultimately evolves.

Further, O’Brien illustrates how war stories are far more complex than simple retellings.

He states, “In any war story, but especially a true one, it’s difficult to separate what happened from what seemed to happen.” Through this paradox, O’Brien captures the blurred line between what soldiers experience and what they remember. As a result of the trauma inflicted by chaotic circumstances, the memories of soldiers are often deemed unreliable. To many, what seemed to happen can feel just as real as what actually

happened. O’Brien indicates that unpacking this hazy reality is essential to understanding the minds and stories of those who lived it.

O’Brien deepens his reflection on the complexities of war narratives writing, “You can’t extract the meaning without unraveling the deeper meaning. And in the end, there’s not really much to say about a true war story, except for maybe ‘Oh.’ ” With this, the urge that readers often have to have to draw simple conclusions or moral lessons from stories is challenged.

To truly grasp the meaning of a war story, one has to dive beneath the surface to uncover layers upon layers of emotional truth. O’Brien suggests that the lessons within true war stories lie in the raw emotions they evoke, rather than simple ideas such as closure. His usage of the word “oh” seems quite simple, but it implies the indescribable numbness that comes with the traumatic experiences that occur in the heat of war. The horrors that would be detailed in a true war story would leave readers in visceral, incomprehensible shock.

Overall, O’Brien’s expressions go beyond the traditional guidelines of storytelling. By drawing a difference between “story truth” and “happening truth,” he reveals that when considering the context of war and trauma, emotional sincerity surpasses factual accuracy. Ultimately, he prompts readers to let go of their search for straightforwardness in narratives in exchange for embracing ambiguity and layered emotional authenticity.

The Terror of Senior Year

By Rennie Anderson I was lied to. Last year, no, last semester when I was trudging through the second semester of my junior year, the main thing that kept me going, my light at the end of the tunnel, was that after this I would be done. All of my hard classes would be history, far behind me, all the late nights I studied trying to figure out what my notes meant, a thing of the past. I thought all I would have to worry about were my college apps. Writing about me? Sounded easy enough. I thought all my spats with my friends and unfortunate group dynamics would pass because we’re finally seniors!! It's our last year - what was there to fight about?

I could not have been more wrong.

I will go as far as to say these first three months of my senior year have been more challenging than my junior year. My classes: still hard. My friends: still fighting. And on top of all the school work I am already concerned about, I have to write my college essays. Essays that I feel like everything is riding on. My grades are nothing special, and neither are my extracurricular activities, so these essays have to be good, they have to set me apart. With that mindset, however, I have pushed off writing it the whole summer and these first

three months of school. Now I am trying to get my first applications submitted in 15 days from when I’m writing this and I only have shambles of an essay.

All this to say I have found a few methods to help me cope when the gravity of all of that gets to me. I recently learned that self-care is just as important as all the cheesy mottos say. Some days more than others are needed, but taking 10 minutes to do something for your current or future self, dare I say something not on a phone has proved to make all the difference. Some days I will do something that will make the next day easier for me, like setting out my clothes for the next day or simply picking up my room so when I wake up I’m not scrambling in the morning. Things like picking

out my clothes make me feel like I have more control when things feel out of control.

Sometimes it’s stretching before I go to bed to try and wind down. And on the days that it gets to me, I get to bed as early as possible and simply turn my phone off and watch a TV show I’ve most likely already seen a million times.

I want to barf reading that last paragraph back. I could have sworn I would never become one of those people who tell people doing one thing changed their lives. I don’t think implementing a bedtime ritual has changed my life, but I think it brings a sense of stability when I feel like my world is going to explode.

pop culture

Beetlejuice is back, and Crazier Than Ever

By Maggie McAteer Ryder her big breakout role.

The film, of course, is Beetlejuice. Starring Geena Davis, Alec Baldwin, Catherine O’Hara, and the famous Michael Keaton as the eponymous Beetlejuice, the movie focuses on a newlywed couple (Davis and Baldwin) who, after dying, decides to haunt the family (O’Hara, Ryder) who recently moved into their house. Almost exactly thirty-six years after the original movie was released, Warner Bros. Pictures released In March of 1988, Director Tim a teaser trailer for a sequel: Burton released his secondBeetlejuice Beetlejuice. ever feature film, one which Naturally, it’s strange that such would become a classic a classic movie would be given a Halloween flick shown sequel over 35 years later, but continuously. It inspired video what about Beetlejuice isn’t? games, an animated TV series, The sequel, which was released and even a Broadway musical. in early September, follows The movie also gave now Winona Ryder’s character, acclaimed actress Winona

Lydia, and her estranged daughter Astrid (Jenna Ortega), as they encounter the return of “the ghost with the most”; Beetlejuice himself.

Given the return of much of the shared cast and crew, many similarities between the two movies are necessarily drawn. The music in both films is remarkable.

Composer Danny Elfman delivered an iconic score for the original film, with the main titles especially providing a classically bizarre and humorous opening, and he does not disappoint in the sequel. Elfman wrote both the main and ending titles for the new movie, which are heavily influenced by his original 1988 tracks. They very effectively reinforce both the nostalgia and the simultaneously scary yet wacky atmosphere of the film.

The new movie largely carries through the general aesthetic of the first. Tim Burton is known for his distinctive eerie and

whimsical style, which can be seen in the profoundly strange afterlife created for Beetlejuice (the Neitherworld). The production designer for the original film, Bo Welch, has also worked with Burton on Edward Scissorhands (1990) and Batman Returns (1992), both of which feature the supremely bizarre juxtaposition of vivid colors and intense shadows that the filmmaker is known for.

Welch is credited as a “Visual Consultant” in the sequel, while the actual production designer was Mark Scruton.

Costume designer Colleen Atwood recovered much of the style from the original film, bringing back Michael Keaton’s iconic black and white striped suit, originally designed by Aggie Guerard Rodgers. Atwood has worked with Burton on numerous occasions, even winning an Oscar for her work in his 2010 film Alice In Wonderland, and her work on updating Lydia’s and Astrid’s styles brings out a new level of depth to the sequel. The dress Astrid wears during the second half of the film (her Marie Curieinspired Halloween costume) is the perfect blend of gothic 80’s glam. Another standout is the shredded, striped knit dress she wore as she biked around Winter River (the small town where the film takes place), showing off her grunge aesthetic.

Unfortunately, much of the film was hard to understand. Trying to navigate Lydia’s strained relationship with her daughter and gross fiance, the creepy boyfriend Astrid picks up, a significant change to the fate of a major character, and Delores, Beetlejuice’s ex-wife’s, unnecessary plotline, there is too much is going on, leaving the audience more confused than ever. Instead of simply picking one storyline and developing it well, it felt rushed, as if the filmmakers had been collecting ideas for the last thirty years and wanted to squish them all into the same film. It ended up being repetitive with multiple similar plotlines (a murderous love interest, dead fathers, etc.). The finale itself was acceptable, a hilarious conglomeration of ridiculous events reminiscent of the possession scene from the original, but it felt so forced that it was still disappointing.

Despite feeling rushed, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice does have many redeeming features.

Jenna Ortega gives a phenomenal performance as Astrid, bringing a much-needed human element. Ortega has previously worked with Tim Burton on his 2022 Netflix show, Wednesday, and when asked why he waited so long to make the sequel, Burton said he was waiting for the right young actress to be born. Additionally, the original characters had been well adapted to the modern day; Lydia’s career as a semi-famous ghost hunter fits in perfectly with today’s culture. Similarly, Delia's (Catherine O’Hara’s character) new path as a

performance artist seems like a natural progression from her wacky sculptures in the first film. The workaround thought up for problematic actor Jeffery Jones’ character was equally creative and hilarious, with a claymation section explaining his backstory; the segment even hinted at the scrapped sequel Beetlejuice Goes Hawaiian (several writers attempted a script, but ultimately it was passed over for other projects).

In the end, although it doesn’t live up to the original, the new sequel to Beetlejuice still makes for a fun watch. It is at its best when viewed as a series of wacky and hilarious skits rather than a cohesive storyline because, let's face it, there wasn’t much of one. The sequel’s ending is deliberately ambiguous, seeming to suggest that the poltergeist could

return at any moment, but at this point, a third installment to the series would come across more as a petty cash grab than an actual worthwhile film. If after all this you’re still craving more stories set in the Beetlejuice universe, there’s always the four-season animated series (Tim Burton and Danny Elfman worked on it!).

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is still in theaters but is now available to stream for $19.99 on various platforms. The original Beetlejuice is available to stream on Max (formerly HBO Max).

sports

Athlete of the Month: Kelly Mclntire

By Celia Thome 15-year-old sophomore Kelly Mclntire flew under the running radar but is rapidly rising up during this fall’s cross-country season. Just last year, she was a rookie on JV cross country, running a 25:40.6 5K. However, when the track season came around in the spring, it was found that she could run a pretty quick mile. Her first 1600 event of the season was a 6:29.49, which placed her on varsity.

She continued to work at improving her time, and, by the end of the season, she was able to run a 5:28.98 at the 2024 CIF Prelims.

“My favorite event in track is the 1600,” Mclntire said when asked about last season, “My best is a 5:28. That's why it’s my favorite.”

Mclntire’s quick humor and kind persona have furthered her contributions to the team, both on and off the track. She is always there to comfort and encourage her teammates, even if she's the one needing encouragement.

Mclntire surprised her whole team with her improvement, especially her dedicated coach, Keith Delong. Most of all, she surprised herself. This sparked her to pursue running this summer as she continued to train with varsity. It was common to see Mclntire running with our fastest juniors and seniors around Liberty Station every morning instead of sleeping in. Her dedication was inspiring to the whole team, and when the cross-country season began at the start of the year, the first race showed that Kelly McIntire was ready to conquer the cross-country landscape.

Mclntire notes that cross country is a very tough sport to love, but she shows up every day to put her all into practice nevertheless. “I liked track way more last year, but cross country is not as bad as it was last year, definitely better,” she

explains, going on further about her changed perspective of the sport. “I definitely like it more than last year, It’s more, I guess I would say, fun. I’m trying more.”

In the first race of the season, a 1.5 mile trail at the Wolfpack Invitational, Mclntire won her race of sophomores, running a 9.33.79. Behind her came two more Point Loma High runners, Paige Eudy, and Celia Thome, putting Point Loma in first overall for that race. With Mclntire securing that number one spot, her first incredible race set the pace for the rest of the season.

In the first Western League meet, Mclntire ran in the varsity girls’ race and secured 6th place, with a 19:17.7 5K. With the absence of Point Loma’s fastest runner, Isabella Ramos, recovering from an injury, she finished as the first runner for Point Loma High School. This

race was an all-time personal best, and she is on track to perform very well at the Western League Championship Meet at the end of the season.

When asked about this drastic change in performance from last year, and what inspired her, she responded by saying, “I care more, I feel like there's more pressure to do good, and I have more support from my parents and other teammates.”

It is very easy to see her passion while she talked about her times, and it was obvious that she cares about the team aspect of the sport, even when many view it as independent.

“I think we all need each other to do good,” she says.

This month, Mclntire was on the ten-person team that drove up to Fresno, CA for the Clovis Invitational, and ran a 19:26.4, putting her in 26th place overall in the girls’ varsity race and 2nd for Point

Loma. She came in not far behind junior Isabella Ramos, who scored 15th place with her 19:07.7.

Ramos has been first on Point Loma Cross Country for two years now and was 5th place at the 2023 Western League Championship Meet, giving perspective to Mclntire’s improvement and potential as a strong runner.

Before the race, I asked her what time she wanted to run the 5k. “Well, I never have goals set in mind, but better than what I did last year. That was terrible,” she said, referring to the 96-degree, hilly race the team ran the year prior. She definitely did do better, just like she wished, dropping an entire six minutes.

The cross-country team was also excited to have many new freshmen this year, all with a strong competitive drive. While the varsity team was in Fresno, it was the freshmen’s time to shine at the second Western League Meet, and they did not disappoint. Skyler Scotten, a freshman at Point Loma, ran an 18:10.6 2.5 mile JV race, putting her 12th overall and 2nd for Point Loma after Emma Stutzman, a sophomore varsity runner who came in 8th place.

For the boys, Luke Waterman, another freshman at Point Loma, ran a 19.47.7 5k, putting him 4th for Point Loma in the JV boy’s race. All together, the team has an impressive number of young athletes with a drive to keep climbing for a spot on the varsity team.

With these new, young runners joining Kelly Mclntire and the rest of the Point Loma High Cross Country team, the school is set for a successful and inspiring season. Each runner on the team has their own value in every race, and in what is possibly the most physically demanding sport, it is exciting to see a young, determined body of students helping the team thrive.

The Clippers Are Returning To San Diego! …Sort of.

By Abraham Zipp

Above: Jordan Miller, who signed a two-way contract with the Clippers after a successful NBA Summer League.

The Clippers are coming to San Diego! Well, not exactly.

While the Clippers, the National Basketball Association (NBA) team, have resided in Los Angeles County since leaving San Diego in 1984, their G-League affiliate is moving from Ontario to become the San Diego Clippers. Even the name is misleading, as they will technically play home

games at the 7,500-seat Frontwave Arena in Oceanside, in the north of San Diego County, rather than in the city of San Diego. However, the arena is still less than 40 miles from Point Loma High School, a far easier commute for Point Loma residents than the 113 miles to the old G-League arena in Ontario, or the 121 miles to the Los Angeles Clippers home court, and will allow San Diegans to catch a glimpse of potential future NBA players.

On November 8th, the Clippers will play their first game in Oceanside, against the Rip City Remix (the affiliate of the Portland Trail Blazers). Paul Hewitt, who was hired as the head coach

for the Agua Caliente Clippers of Ontario in 2021 after a successful college career, will continue to coach the team.

The NBA G-League doesn’t work like your typical minor league. This is actually the first season every NBA team has had a G-League affiliate (the Phoenix Suns were the last to acquire one), with the NBAoperated Ignite folding to make it a 31-team league (30 NBA affiliates, plus the independent Mexico City Capitanes). The San Diego Clippers have not yet announced their roster, but a GLeague roster consists of twelve players total. Teams can carry NBA players sent to the GLeague to get playing minutes and develop, and each NBA team can carry three two-way contracts. Two-way players split time between the NBA and G-League, and are allowed on the active NBA roster for up to 50 NBA games. The rest are

selections in the G-League Draft, affiliate players who the NBA team cut before the season, allocation players with local connections, and a single player from local tryouts.

These players are technically signed to the league rather than a specific team, so any NBA team may sign them since they are free agents. However, if the player has not entered the NBA draft (the G-League allows players 18 years or older to play, the NBA requires players to be 19 or older, and a year removed from ending high school if from the U.S., meaning some high schoolers go to the G-League for a year before declaring for the NBA Draft as an alternative to college), he must first enter the draft before being able to sign with an NBA team.

The San Diego Clippers roster so far includes three players on two-way contracts: Undrafted forward Trentyn Flowers (who played in Australia after high school before declaring for the draft), 2023 second-round pick Jordan Miller (signing his second consecutive two-way contract with the Clippers), and Bahamian big man and 2021 first-round pick Kai Jones (who was solid in limited minutes for the University of Texas but has played limited time in the NBA). Belarusian forward Yauhen Massalski, who played for the G-League’s Austin Spurs last year after a solid college career, will play in San Diego. NBA assignments will likely include players like second-round pick and rookie Cam Christie, as well as other inexperienced Clippers players like Alondes Williams and Elijah Harkless. The rest of the roster will be announced in the coming weeks. But no matter who forms the roster, the return of professional basketball to San Diego County after a 40-year absence is sure to bring excitement to San Diego residents.

news

Harris vs. Trump: A Presidential Race Update

By Cormac Sullivan

On July 21, 2024, President Joe Biden announced that he was dropping out of the presidential race. Doubts surrounding his fitness for the presidency circulated after a disastrous debate against Republican candidate Donald Trump in June. President Biden quickly endorsed Vice President Kamala Harris as the new Democratic party candidate.

Kamala Harris, 60, had served for six years as the first woman District Attorney General of San Francisco. She steadily rose through the ranks, demonstrating her natural leadership and sharp-mindedness in office.

Donald Trump, 78, inherited his father’s real estate company in 1971. Under his leadership, the Trump Organization flourished, bringing in hundreds of millions of dollars each year through investments and partnerships.

The differences between these two candidates are as stark as the differences between their parties. Their policies are almost always at odds with each other; strict border control and loose border control, anti-abortion and abortion access, tax cuts and tax increases.

Between July and this moment, less than a week before the presidential election, the American public has been audience to a fierce culture war between the Democratic and Republican parties. The media has taken it by storm; young people, now more than ever, have access to political commentary through social media sites such as TikTok, X, and YouTube.

From debates to rallies and assassination attempts to conventions, this report will go through the historic 2024 election month-by-month from June to November.

June Joe Biden and Donald Trump debate live on CNN. Topics included the economy, abortion, the 2020 election, immigration, and foreign policy.

July Democratic party officials called for Biden to drop out of the race. Before he withdrew, Trump agreed to another debate on September 10.

Amidst a whirlwind of criminal charges against Trump, the Supreme Court ruled, “...former presidents are entitled to absolute immunity from criminal prosecution for actions that involve the exercise of their ‘core constitutional powers.’”

Trump’s sentencing is postponed until after Election Day. During a Trump rally in Butler, Pennsylvania, a young man by the name of Thomas Matthew Crooks aimed for the former president’s head using an AR-15 rifle from the roof of a nearby building. However, Trump had his head turned to look at a chart projected onto a nearby board, and the bullet missed its intended target, but nicked his right ear. Stunned, he put his hand up to his ear and ducked for cover while the crowd panicked and Secret Service members ran to shield him.

Several more shots were fired, and one death was recorded, as well as two injuries besides Trump’s. After the Secret Service’s sniper team took down Crooks, the men in black attempted to move Trump off the stage, but not before he raised a fist to the sky, blood streaming down his head, provoking a wild chant of “U.S.A! U.S.A!” This image has been used in his campaign ever since then.

The conflict raised calls for the resignation of Secret Service director Kimberly Cheatle by both parties. The event is considered the most significant security failure by the Secret Service since the attempted assassination of President Ronald Reagan in 1981.

Just two days later, the Republican National Convention was held in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. On the first day, Trump officially announced Ohio Senator J.D. Vance as his running mate. Vance, author of the memoir Hillbilly Elegy, is the first millennial to ever hold a major party presidential ticket.

August Harris became the Democratic presidential nominee after winning a majority of votes during the Democratic virtual roll call. Shortly after, she chose Minnesota Governor Tim Walz to be her running mate. Walz is well known for his background as a former teacher, high school football coach, and highranking member of the National Guard.

Representing the Green Party, Jill Stein chose Butch Ware as her vice-presidential candidate.

The Democratic National Convention was held in Chicago, and personalities such as Oprah, Mark Hammill, and Sean Astin made appearances.

September Harris and Trump debated on ABC News on September 10th in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The two had a historic meeting for the Democratic and Republican parties. They discussed immigration, abortion, trade, the economy, foreign policy, healthcare, and Harris’ 2020 policy stances. Both candidates made important points, said some much-memed lines, and broke down each others’ political ideas for over two hours.

On the topic of immigration, Trump made a statement about illegal immigrants.

“A lot of towns don't want to talk about it because they're so embarrassed by it. In Springfield, they're eating the dogs. The people that came in. They're eating the cats. They're eating -they're eating the pets of the people that live there. And this is what's happening in our country.”

One of the moderators, David Muir, explained that according to the Springfield city manager there were no accounts of any harm being done to anyone’s pets by immigrants. Trump then exchanged a few words with Muir.

Trump: Well, I've seen people on television…

Muir: Let me just say here this…

Trump: …the people on television say my dog was taken and used for food. So maybe he said that and maybe that's a good thing to say for a city manager.

Muir: I'm not taking this from television. I'm taking it from the city manager.

Trump: But the people on television say their dog was eaten by the people that went there.

Muir: Again, the Springfield city manager says there's no evidence of that.

Trump: We'll find out.

Alleged pet slaughter aside, Trump and Harris criticized each other on many fronts, culminating in a spirited and lively debate.

On September 15, Trump was golfing at his golf club in West Palm Beach, Florida, when a man was spotted in nearby shrubs with an AK-47 rifle aimed at Trump and his security detail. The Secret Service shot at the man, who was soon captured and revealed to be 58-year-old Ryan Wesley Routh.

October The month began with the vice-presidential debate between Republican nominee J.D. Vance and Democratic nominee Tim Walz in New York City. Topics included foreign policy, abortion, immigration, and the housing crisis. Vance and Walz showed their respect and professionalism in addition to their stances on the subjects discussed.

Trump and Harris continue to battle for the support of the battleground states, namely Pennsylvania, Michigan, Wisconsin and North Carolina. Many voters are still undecided, reviewing each candidate’s agenda for the future of the United States.

November November 5th is Election Day. As it draws nearer, The Pointer Press encourages those who are eligible to vote. Even if you’re under 18, encourage family members, friends, and neighbors to vote. The younger population is scarcely represented in politics enough; your vote is crucial to the election.

The New Ocean Beach Pier

By Chance McGinley-Kase expand upon the previous Niagara entrance and provide a viewing platform. Another innovation is the Surfer’s Lounge, a lowered platform for watching the surf and surfers. Unlike the old pier’s linear walk, the new one The OB pier has been closed for plans to add a second path roughly a year after minor damage known as the Horizon Walk. in October 2023, and almost This second route would add irreparable damage in the an elevated view area atop following December. The city has the cafe. The last major proposed to build a new pier addition to the pier is the rather than repair the damages of Infinity Plaza, a central area the almost sixty-year-old pier. The before the pier branches into new pier model aims to retain the two terraces. This would add old character with a modern twist, a communal area and a keeping the T/Y shape and the partially shaded rest stop to beloved cafe now known as The the pier. Overall, the city aims Island with further expansions. to create a more sustainable, However, multiple innovations fun, and safe pier. have been made to the pier's old design. One major renovation is the Niagara Landing, aimed to

A Local’s View Jessie McGinley-Kase was born in Pennsylvania but has lived in Ocean Beach for 28 years. Not only has she attended Point Loma High School, but she has also worked at Pizza Port for 14 years. McGinleyKase has many important lifetime experiences on the pier. When they first arrived in Ocean Beach, she and her family walked the pier until they reached the end. A seagull defecated on her father's head, infuriating him. However, a local said that it was good luck, and it turned that frown upside down.

McGinley-Kase has always thought that Ocean Beach Pier is a necessary part of the community. She is worried about the projected necessary funding for the pier, She states that funding from the pier needs to return to the community. She is also worried about rising sea levels, as the old pier struggled with a harsher ocean climate, and she is scared that the huge investment will be wasted in an unsustainable pier.

Another problem with the old pier was the issue of homelessness. However, she feels confident and cautiously optimistic that the new pier will not have the same problem.

History and Traditions

4TH Of July Fireworks

The longest pier on the West For a long time, the OB Town Coast is being slowly destroyed by Council would hold a firework the conditions. Originally built in show on the Fourth of July.

1966, the pier has outlived its The fireworks would always be healthy lifespan. During the launched out from the pier, opening ceremony, over 7000 San and hundreds of surfers would Diego residents were present.. paddle out on surfboards to Originally, it was designed to be a watch the show. Sadly, even fishing pier, which was necessary with the new pier being built, to reach past the kelp forest. this will most likely not return as OB has shifted towards The Annual Pancake Brunch drone shows.

Fishing Competitions The annual pancake breakfast began in 1988, and has been held As the West Coast's largest annually on the OB Pier. It has fishing pier, fishing served as a great community competitions are a must. One meeting place, as hundreds of of these regular competitions people would join in and eat is the youth fishing derby. This breakfast. The event was always contest is held for kids, who volunteer run, and all the proceeds went to charities such as compete for whacky rewards, toy drives for families that need a such as the most guitarshaped fish. little helping hand during the holiday season.

Funding and Schedule To properly fund the project, San Diego estimates it will need $170 million to $190 million. However, as of April 2024, the state has only set aside $8.4 million. San Diego is planning on taking multiple federal grants, without taking away funding from funding the homelessness crisis or city infrastructure.

Major groups working on the project are Moffatt & Nichol Engineering firm, focusing on the pier's design, as well as CIVITAS and RNT Architects for further evaluation of the design plan. San Diego plans to have a complete design by the end of 2024. By the end of 2024, the city expects to be done with the permitting phase. Construction will begin in 2026.

Halloween and Traditions

By Hannah Smith Despite Halloween being rumored to have religious roots, such as All Saints Day, you would think the creepy and scary aspects just stemmed from a bored person sick of the peaceful, mundane tradition and trying something new.

However, it actually started from an ancient Celtic tradition called, “Samhain” (pronounced “SAH-win”). Samhain was a pagan festival meant to congratulate the harvest at the end of summer and welcome the beginning of winter. They believed that souls could roam the earth and lit bonfires to light the way for them, and would don disguises so they would not be bothered by the evil spirits. Though Halloween originated in Celtic tradition, it doesn’t mean that other cultures have taken this spooky

holiday and made it a fun celebration in their own special ways .

In Guatemala, there is a colorful and vibrant tradition of flying elaborate handmade kites. This tradition is 3,000 years old and is believed to be a way to communicate with the deceased. Most kites are constructed with paper, cloth, and bamboo and have patterns or symbols that represent their family. This festival is called, “Festival de Barriletes Gigantes” and is usually celebrated on October 31st.

In Costa Rica, they dance through the streets to traditional folk music usually played by the cimarron bands while wearing colorful handmade masks. These masks usually represent figures from pop-culture, mythology, and politics. This tradition is traced back 200 years to pre-Columbian customs and carnivals. This celebration is called “Dia de la Mascarada Costarricense.”

October 31st and November 2nd and celebrates the return of their dead ancestors' souls.

They believe that the line between the lands of the living and the dead dissolves during those days. For this, people leave their deceased loved ones' favorite foods or other offerings on their graves or at ofrendas built in their homes.

In Italy, they celebrate what is known as “Ognissanti.”

Celebrated on November 1st, it is the Italian version of All Saints Day. This celebration dates back to the 4th century A.D., and is a day where they honor martyrs and saints in the Catholic Church. Good children are rewarded by sweets or small gifts brought by the dead souls. In some regions such as Now we move on to one of the Lombardy, they leave a vase of more well known Halloween water out for the souls to drink traditions, Dia de los Muertos, during their visits. found in Mexico. This celebration falls between

The Pumpkin Festival, or“Kürbisfest im Retzer Land,” is celebrated in Austria. On November 11th, they celebrate by dressing up in costumes and a procession of lanterns. Some people leave out bread, water, and a lighted lamp out to welcome back the souls.

greatly commercialized, especially in Hong Kong. However they do have “spooky” holidays that they celebrate; the Double 9th festival, the Hungry Ghost Festival, and the Qing Ming Festival.

Like China, Japan’s Halloween is also very commercialized.

However, it came to the country through Tokyo Disneyland. Since then, they have started celebrating Halloween. Most of the festivities are enjoyed by the adults since they don’t do trick-or-treating for kids. However, a unique thing Japan does to celebrate is decorate Belgium, on the other hand, the inside of train cars based on a tends to keep it low-key theme (for example, zombies, when they celebrate. Some vampires, and other popular villages usually celebrate All spooky characters) for the Saints Day, but when they do holiday.

Lastly, Korea celebrates Chuseok (a celebrate Halloween, they harvest festival). In this festival tend to light a candle to locals visit the places where their remember a loved one. ancestors used to live and eat In China, Halloween was introduced by foreigners and traditional Korean food. the holiday itself became

Haunted Trail of Balboa Park Returns for the Halloween Season

By Sophia Abernathy Balboa Park’s favorite Halloween festivity has once again reopened for the season, ready to scare the pants off dedicated fans and newcomers alike! The Haunted Trail of Balboa Park is open from September 27th to November 2nd and is sure to give you the fright of your life. Complete with two haunts, the Trail consists of a 3500 square foot Experiment Maze featuring a conglomeration of terrifying creatures, ranging from witches and clowns to an adorably freakish “Moldy Locks” and the Three Bears.

Then, it’s on to the mile-long trail through a gnarly forested area of the park, with a portal that transports you throughout space and time itself, launching you face to face with horrifying

evils like Freddy Krueger’s Ghoul Bus, and thrusting you through the Deadly Smokey Meathouse and Fish markets. It all comes to a gruesome end with the rundown barn, filled with deranged chainsawwielding maniacs!

Afterward, you can simmer down with the newly opened Boo-tique, and spoil yourself with t-shirts, hoodies, patches, pins, cosmetics, and more! You can even finish off the night with axe throwing, catered

by Axe Throw San Diego.

Of course, after this exciting preview, you may be wondering where to grab your tickets. All tickets can be purchased via the official website, or at the front of

the trail. Note that tickets purchased on-site are to be paid with cash only, however, there is an ATM there to help accommodate customers.

If you have any burning questions, such as location or ticket pricing, any and all information can be found at hauntedtrail.net, which is the only official trusted website for the Haunted Trail of Balboa Park.

Enjoy the fun, and get ready for the fright of your life!

creative writing

On Delicate Wings

By Anna Wang I sing of summers marked by Tiger swallowtails as they flicker by, Golden beams slurring milkweed and sky.

I invent words as they pass me by, And I daydream of the light that shines, When I pin beauty into butterflies, To offer to you the most trivial tributes of mine.

I plagiarized the prophecies you Breathed life into on the fourth count, I stole the melodies of your monarchs, Then locked them voiceless behind closed glass.

Guilt marks my mind like the rings of a rotting tree, upon whose trunk I ask now to see You, in the skin that you were born in; you, from those Seasons past when the sky was violent, violet, and blue.

I pray for patience and for new eyes To watch the moths as they waltz by, Shades of serenity linking stars and sky.

But the nights, I do not listen When the waters you steer through Whisper caution in my ear, When rest calls at my father’s gate, I do not heed your warning.

The Selkie

By Bella Pechtel Every winter on the beaches of Fairfolk, England, gray seals arrive in masses to raise their young. Fairfolk is a small town. It never really caught up to the 19th century- in fact it should have become a ghost town after the great war. Now everyone who lives there fishes or moves to find work. It’s certainly not the coldest, foggiest place in England, but its desolation makes it feel that way. This year, Fairfolk had a visitor: a young woman wearing a basic dress and a heavy gray coat. She had a pleasant smell of salt and large black eyes that looked like the wet pebbles on the beach.

She walked into the first inn from the beach and she paid with old money. When asked why she’s in town, she would respond, “Oh, I’m just visiting family, nothing to worry about.” She would stare at she sea for a long time, like someone she loved had died out there, and would walk the beach during sunset, her eyes getting as misty as the grey seals, with their long, bullterrier like faces, slinked into the sea as she walked by, looking at her from the rocks offshore.

A few days after she arrived she started asking around for Mr. Moore Whenever she asked, she would become more worried, like her life depended on finding him, and she eventually did.

He lived on the outskirts of town, becoming more and more isolated after his wife died.

He only went into town when it was absolutely necessary, and made his visits as short as possible. When he opened the door and she asked to come in, he let her sit on his wife's old armchair, and drink out of his wife's old teacup and saucer, both of which were adorned in yellow carnations. None of these kind gestures would ease the anger in her heart, which knotted itself around every part of her body.

Mr. Moore gripped his teacup and took a sip, then said "You remind me of my wife- especially your eyes."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a long twine rope. "Oh, dear God your eyes!"

In no time, she held him down and made sure he couldn't get out of her twine web. She began searching the house, webbed hands throwing furniture and slamming open doors and cabinets.

Then she found it. In his room, in a trunk in the closet, exactly as it was. A gray seal coat.

As she grabbed the pelt Mr. Moore yelled and thrashed and said plenty of obscene words about the visitor’s mother. He said he never loved her, he said he was sorry, he said if she let him go he could make things right with her. He cried. He sniffled. Then he shut up.

“She died three years ago. She lived inland for the rest of her days and she said if she saw the sea and the seals, the sorrow would eat her from the inside out. She told me to come here, to hunt you down, like you did to her.”

She slid the seal coat over her shoulders and felt the fresh seal skin, its own heart beating rapidly before slowing to match hers. She felt her body melt into the seal skin, its body joining and becoming her own, the seal skin became so in tune with her, you could see her scars mapped on it.

She lunged at Mr. Moore.

She tied the last knot in his tapestry.

And she tore him open.

Turning into a human again, still drunk on the experience, she missed out on her first seventeen years of life. She dragged the body to the sea, as it was raining down on Fairfolk. His blood followed his body to the water, and as far out to sea as she could go. By the time she was spotted by the townspeople, it was too late for them to catch her. She was already a seal, swimming away from the scene faster than she had ever swam before. She was gone forever, probably to find other selkies, but the townspeople had other ideas.

They thought she had to still be there, lying in wait, taunting the town. They killed every seal, they sold the fur and the flesh, they hung seal bones outside their doors. Then there were no humans either - just some houses, stores, and a lighthouse left to rot among the fog.

But the seals remain. And sometimes they walk on the beach as people.

Because of Tilly Redfield

By Celia Thome I had slid the crisp, folded note through the slit of her locker, where three lines were cut, as if someone would keep a live animal inside, providing the barest airflow to one’s books in an attempt to save them from the rotting that ate everything at Merris Mue High alive. I looked left and then right down the busy hallway. Tilly Redfield, was standing alone against her locker, the girl who had taken me in freshman year, my best friend with long golden hair that licked her prominent collar bones and wrapped tenderly around the silver necklace that hung around her neck.

“Have you ever seen someone eaten alive?” She had asked me once, sitting on the edge of her highly set bed as her feet dangling down to where I sat on her fraying rug. I shook my head. “I saw it in a video once,” she continued, “about some people who survived being stranded on a mountain.” She sat and pondered, her legs gained a slight bounce against her mattress so that I had to shift so her feet would not reach my face. She didn't seem to notice. “They committed a crime. But they were never punished. See, you can get away with anything if you do it right.”

I glanced over at her and caught a glimpse of her eye through a window of people, mostly boys. Tall and sporty and handsome.

She drew them out from places I had never known, like a spider feasting on the blood of an innocent child during the night: so clueless.

I ran my finger along the base of the locker, Kylie More’s, and turned on my heel, walked slowly down the hall, looking down at my phone. That was the third note this week. The bell rang and I took my spot at Tilly’s side. We walked back past Kylie’s locker and into class, the door swinging closed behind us as the second bell rang and we sat down, the slightest moment of eye contact shared between us and we both knew the job had been done.

“Well somebody has to do it,” she always told me, jutting out her lower lip into her pouty face as she looked down at me.

“But why does it have to be me?” I would ask.

“Because,” she exclaimed, “it can’t be me obviously! And who else, but my most trusted accomplice?” She dragged the sentence out and put a finger to my chest, her words slurring.

She flashed her white, shimmering smile. “You know you love it.”

“I do,” I would say.

And so the notes continued and the little favors I did for Tilly did too, and they were not so little anymore. No one knew it was me. No one knew it was her. When Kylie More didn’t come to school that day in early October, no one looked at us. I pushed it away, for I was only the simple-minded messenger and nothing more. I had no say on what the message was.

“You know you love it,” she said.

And then there was Tyler Waters, who was my friend, and he didn’t get a note, he was the one writing them. He didn’t know it, but his signature and his handwriting started showing up around campus. After I had passed through an area, his writing would emerge as if he had been there too. Tilly and I, we were like small birds that hovered over someone's garden, plucking each fruit one by one. We appeached each plant slowly so that no one batted an eye at us when it grew barren.

“What did they do to you?” I asked Tilly under our tree in the courtyard. The sun had just reached its peak and she slid on a dark pair of sunglasses that hid her piercing blue eyes. She smirked and plucked a limp piece of grass from the lawn, rolling it over between her fingers.

“What happens when a country gets attacked? She tilted her head towards the sun, as if the light didn’t bother her in the slightest. “Or a threat is made towards it people?”

I followed her gaze towards the sun, but averted my eyes at the bright stinging that pinched my pupils unconformably.

“Does the country just sit there?” She asked.

“No,” I said as I looked at my reflection in her sunglasses, the light outlines of her eyes seeping through and matching with mine as if she was part of my image in the glass. “There’s a war.”

She looked back at me and the blue of her eyes pierced through the glasses, her pupils aligning with mine. She flicked the piece of grass away with her thumb and pointer finger.

“Exactly.”

So I didn’t question, and Tyler got called to the office midOctober in AP Literature. He looked at me as he left the classroom and I flicked the air with my hand as if to tell him not to worry about it. The days following in fourth period were lonely as he wasn’t there to share the class.

“Doesn’t it feel good to be part of the secret?” She smiled, her backlit silhouette dark against the dropping sun.

My family had forbidden me from seeing Tyler any more and once again the only person I had was Tilly. She had hated Tyler, after they had broken up, although he never said anything about it. But whoever Tilly hated, I did as well, and it felt good to have him out of the picture.

The same feeling overcame me today, on Halloween weekend as the loud voices and music from a house party thudded against my head and I slowly mixed the dissolving white pill into a half filled red plastic cup of beer. Each stir was painful, but I desired it and when Tilly brushed past me and our eyes met for a split second, a smile crept across my face as I turned and walked out of the kitchen searching for Tyler’s blond hair.

It was possible that he didn’t show up. After everything that had happened, why would he want to come here and socialize with the school that ruined his life, but I had sent him a text, saying that I believed him, that we could see each other here, because my parents wouldn’t know, and there he was in the middle of the ground, tripping over himself, wasted and so far gone, his eyes having trouble focusing on one point.

He wasn’t in a costume and I felt stupid in my nurse's outfit with my skirt hiked up high on my thigh, but Tilly had wanted to match and so I wore it.

“Looks like you need another drink there buddy,” I took his half full cup and replaced it with mine as I came to stand against him, his damp shirt clinging to his chest.

“Hey there partner,” he slurred. “Long time no see. Guess we were not supposed to see each other anymore.” His sarcastic tone was deeply exaggerated and he rolled his eyes.

The room was vibrating with the heavy bass of the music. I looked up at him. He continued talking, throwing his hand dramatically as if he was giving his death speech. “Do you know who framed me?” He asked. “Didn’t need to, I was about to flunk out anyway.” A stupid smile spread over his face and he cackled, giving me a playful nudge.

I laughed it off and flinched as he took a long sip from his drink and then let out a satisfied sigh. He brought it back to his lips and drank the whole thing, crumpling the cup and throwing it into my chest. “I better be going, wouldn’t want your mommy getting mad at me.” He pouted and shoved past dancing bodies in the opposite direction.

Tilly appeared at my side. “You wanna dance, sweetheart?” she asked.

“I need to use the restroom.” I slipped past her and I could feel her piercing eyes on my back. I searched for Tyler and saw his shaggy, matted head disappearing out the front door onto the patio. I pushed my way through the people and followed

him outside. He was walking down the stone path of Tilly’s front lawn, zig-zagging left and right as if he was riding a bike for the first time, trying to catch his balance.

“Tyler, wait!” I said, jogging down the front steps.

He swung around, continuing to stumble backwards. He squinted at me and tilted his head, his hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks from his profuse sweat. “What's up, partner?” He hollered, louder than it needed to be.

“Get in my car, right now. Tyler, I need to bring you home.” I stepped up to him and reached for his arm. He pulled away and put his hand in the air.

“Woah, woah, woah there.” He smirked letting out a squeaking cackle. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He took a couple steps backward onto the sidewalk.

“No- Tyler please, I need you to come with me,” I said, eagerness creeping up in my throat. I reached out for him again and he flinched backward. He stood perfectly between the two lines of carved pumpkins that flicked on the lawn under the streetlamp lacking road.

“Hey!” He said with an accusatory tone. “I know it was you,” he said, “That wrote the notes” My heart sputtered with the candle flames flickering in the light breeze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t owe you anything. I’m protecting you by keeping my damn mouth shut, so I’m not going anywhere with you. Who knows what you’d do to me this time.” His voice was rising and I was panicked, afraid someone inside would hear him.

“Tyler, it wasn’t me.” I stuttered, “I didn’t want to.”

“Then why’d you do it, huh?” He jabbed a finger in my chest.

“You don't understand.” My hands were shaking, “Tilly made me do it, all of it.”

He looked disgusted, “Who’s Tilly?” He asked.

I laughed, “What do you mean? Tilly Refeild?” He stared at me blankly, “You dated her for a month, she always talked about you.”

He stared at me, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I’m not allowed to date.”

My heartbeat slowed. Why was he gaslighting me? “Tyler, shut up. She’s the one who convinced me to do it. She’s very persuasive. She manipulates you. You of all people should know that.”

“Look,” he shook his head, “I don’t know who that is, okay?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his left hand reaching for his phone in his back pocket. He looked scared. Scared of me?

Tilly walked up behind me from the patio and stood by my side.

Tyler's eyes didn’t shift from mine and I began to panic. He was going to think I was crazy. He had no reason to keep our secret for much longer.

“Now,” Tilly whispered in my ear.

I reached out with both of my hands and pushed Tyler’s shoulders. He stumbled backwards with a loud “Hey!” as his phone clamored to the ground.

A dark car sped through the middle of the lane and caught Tyler with its front corner, knocking him to the ground hard. The headlight shattered around him, creating a dazzling array of glass around his body. He skidded several feet and hit the curb with his head.

The car swiveled and came to a sliding stop. The driver's window rolled down and a young teenage boy looked out at me with wide eyes. We both looked down at Tyler’s limp body. I searched for the rise and fall of his breath, but my vision was blurring and I could barely make out his darkly dressed figure against the pavement.

I looked back up at the boy who sat mortified in the car that looked way too flashy for him, the steering wheel almost too large for his childlike fingers. I scanned the yard, seeing that we were completely alone. I mouthed the word “go” at him and he rolled the window back up. The engine revved quietly and he drove away.

In the red allure of the headlights, I could see Tyler’s disheveled face for only a split second as the light rolled over his body, sprawled in an unnatural shape. A long scrape ran down his handsome face and through his lip, where the skin parted and could see his bottom front tooth shining through the curtain of flesh. His head was tilted backward on his bent neck, so that his cheeks dragged his mouth up into what could almost be seen as a smile.

“You look sad. Why are you sad?” Tilly said into my ear. She stepped in front of me, creating a wall between Tyler’s body and me so that I was forced to look at her. “You’re having fun, no?”

I looked back at Tyler, still a dark, motionless shadow on the side of the road and back at Tilly. Her skin seemed so thin in this light, as if I could peer right through her to the road where a long skidmark was painted across the black.

“You made me do that,” I choked.

“No,” she breathed, “You did that one all by yourself.”

And then Tyler's body was in front of me, my feet at his torso.

I belt down to him, “No,” I pleaded, “Tyler, it wasn’t me,” Tears ran down my face, heavy with makeup. Music blared from inside and I could feel the sublet fibration of the speakers.

“Tilly made me do it.”

[The Porcelain Horror]

By Hannah Smith It's been 15 years. 15 years since we last heard her laugh, looked at her eyes that were glowing with excitement, and watched her face fill up with her happy smile. Her running down the hall in her yellow sundress as the morning light poured through the windows, the blood streaking through her blond hair as the moonlight shined. We hadn’t gone through one day without remembering her. However, it all changed when that thing showed up in our woods.

I was about to wash out the brown chalky remains of my coffee sitting at the bottom of my white porcelain mug, thinking of her again, when John burst through the door panting like a dog.

Startled, I dropped my mug, the shards splintering and shattering with a satisfying“Crack” all over the maple wood floor.

“Maeve, get out here,” he said, gasping for air in short, panting breaths.

“What?” I snapped at him. He looked at me with panicked eyes and an expression that said,“What the hell did I just see?”

“What is it John?” I said, fear now entering my voice. Nothing scared John. Nothing.

“You… You better come see for yourself,” he said, stumbling over his words.

I walked out the door, agitated, and pulled my sweater closer to me, the crisp cold morning air filling my lungs and caressing my face. The sky was still dark and the rising sun was barely visible on the horizon. As I followed John, seeing the red and violets of the morning sky seep into the inky navy blue of the night, I heard John muttering to himself. And as we approached the wood chopping block I saw it.

The shiny white porcelain was cracked and decayed. The rosy pink painted over the glossy porcelain lips and dead, lifeless eyes painted on the sockets artfully. The matted blonde hair was covered in moss and fell onto the dirtied yellow sundress now looking more like a dark mustard than a cheerful yellow.

It sat on the stump, tossed carelessly, the limbs bent backwards and jangled into a mess of limbs and hair.

“What… What is that?” I said, my throat drying and my mouth feeling like cotton. I looked at John for reassurance, my eyes booring into him, but all I saw was a broken man. Tears streamed out of his red rimmed eyes, falling and sliding between the creases and lines of his aged face.

“How could’ve they known?” he said, mumbling and staring into a void filled with God knows what. He fell to his knees in front of the stump and his body shook from his sobs.

“What is this John!” I said my voice rising as panic filled my lungs and clouded my vision. How could someone know? How? “JOHN!! HOW COULD THEY KNOW?” I said, rational thoughts gone and I whirled around looking sporadically, my eyes searching wildly.

Then my eyes returned to the sniveling man by the feet of the stump and felt a disgust so similar to the one I felt 15 years ago.

I picked up the ax by my feet, my vision tinged with red as grief and anger flooded me. The hefty handle of the ax weighed in my hands and the metal gleamed. I walked towards John panting, terrified, and yet calm.

All I knew next was the swish of the metal blade swinging past my ear and the familiar sound of the thwacks and thunks of the blade hitting and slicing filled my ears while I slowly zoned out and felt a euphoria wash over me. When I looked at the remains of the thing I slashed, I recognized the brown hair streaked with gray. John, my beloved John sliced and gashed beyond recognition.

I dropped to my knees sobbing. They racked my body, my chest heaving. I petted his hair, tears streaming down my face. Then my gaze landed back on that terrible disgusting thing, the thing that looked just like her. I had gotten rid of her years ago and now I would have to get rid of him. I looked into the pastures as the morning sun rose. The sky bleeded a violent orange and red, and it slowly took over the murky blue of the night. And as I saw the sun rising I could’ve sworn I saw the outline of a man and his daughter staring back at me.

After All: Parts I-III

By Roy Bucher I “Woe to you depraved souls! Bury here and forever all hope of Paradise: I come to lead you to the other shore, into fire and ice.”

-Dante Alighieri, The Inferno The sun shone through the window of the 345 apartment room.

Specks of dust glistened in the light and the solar-powered bobble head on the window sill began rocking back and forth, creating its distinctive “Knick-Knock” sound. The eyes of the dweller began to shiver and open. He wearily reanimated his limbs, cast off his sheets and got to his feet. The room was cold and the floor was dry and icy. The man nursed his sore neck for a moment.

Not a soul in the world knows this man. A small few on the street might have seen him from time to time, but they would be lucky enough to see the color of his eyes or see him do anything else besides slip into the shadows. His name, or at least the name he goes by, is Calix Murdot and he doesn’t mind the isolation. In fact, much of it was by his design. For five years Calix Murdot had been living in relative peace, moving from place to place and keeping to his own. A far cry from his previous life.

Murdot stretched his arms and legs, rotated his neck and breathed in and out deeply. He then went over to his drawers and threw on some clothes, namely a dark coat and scarf along with a pair of shades.

Murdot couldn’t help but smile. Today was destined to be interesting. It was New Year’s Day. Not only that, it was the turn of the century. The beginning of the year 2500. Murdot wasn’t alone in his excitement. People all around the world were desperately hoping for something good. The past centuries had been quite grueling. Environmental collapse, another Great Depression, the first true famines in centuries, countries divvied up by vicious warlords and a mysterious event in Mexico had been the main attractions of Hyper-Modernity, that is, the era after the 21st century.

Most were hoping for some kind of progress or positive social change. Murdot on the other hand was yearning for some kind of action. Five years of peace is nice and all, but Murdot has found that he is not one for peace. He needs a challenge, some kind of strife. Murdot didn’t exactly know what he was looking for but he felt that he would be able to find it soon.

He packed his luggage and began heading down the stairs to the lobby. There he met the curator, a thin, aging man who looked like a hybridization of the stereotypical English gentleman and the mummy of Ramses the Great.

Murdot set his room keys on the counter.

“Leaving so soon?” asked the curator, raising an eyebrow.

“You made it seem like you’d be here longer.”

“Apparently not,” replied Murdot, still wearing that odd smile of his.

“I hope you’re not cheerful about leaving. This old place hasn’t had nearly enough tenants to keep things afloat.”

“Not at all. I’m just excited about what I’ll find.”

The curator frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Oh I’ll know it when I see it. Anyways, here you go.”

Murdot put down a large bundle of cash. The curator’s eyes widened.

“W-wait, this is far too mu-” Murdot shushed him mid sentence. “Think of me as a gracious guest, dear fellow.”

And with that, Murdot turned and exited out the door. The curator was perplexed. He picked up the cash and examined it closely. It wasn’t a trick and it was indeed more than was needed to pay. Far more than was needed to pay.

What in the hell is wrong with that guy? thought the curator.

Murdot strolled down the sidewalk, his face turned towards the darkening sky. It’s going to rain soon, Murdot thought to himself.

The streets were deathly quiet. It was late in the day and the trains had stopped. Cars were too expensive and people were too reckless with them so governments built train systems in their place. Overall, it works pretty well but oftentimes the trains halt during bad weather to prevent any damage or worker injuries.

A siren began to wail and an automated voice gave a final warning. The first tears of rain began to fall.

Murdot stopped for a moment and stared into the clouds. Then, a sudden shock surged throughout his body. His flip-phone was ringing in his left pocket. Murdot unfolded the device and saw that a message had been sent to him. Murdot was surprised, as his phone had been taken off the grid for 4 years.

The author was listed as “Mr. Lumberjack” and the message simply read; “Arrive at Kensington City within eight days and await further instructions.” Murdot was not sure what to think.

Whoever had the ability to access his phone clearly knew of his existence, his whereabouts and his previous choice of work.

However, if he were the target of someone or part of some agenda he would probably be dead by now or confronted by a physical person.

This is an invitation, Murdot thought to himself. They want me for a job. To do what though?

The rain began to pick up and Murdot slipped into the nearest building for shelter. Murdot now stood in an empty lobby room with a secretary at the far end who seemed to not even notice him. His mind began to buzz with memories as he looked at the phone.

“Again?” Murdot asked himself.

II “So just what the hell are we doing here?” asked Tom. “I told you already”answered Spruill.

“I found us a job- a real good one.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say a single thing about, oh I don’t know, how much we’d be making, who the employer is or what we’d be doing. You literally just said, ‘Hey Tom! I found us a gig downtown!’ and then you did this weird little happy dance, ran out the door and then I followed after you. We’ve been walking for an hour now so could you at least give me a hint?”

“Nope, can’t do it. It’s a surprise,” Spruill said, smiling.

“You know I hate surprises! Those’re a death sentence in our line of work, you know that! The only reason I’m not turning back is because of our long-committed-to partnership!”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re just as excited as I am. You’re coming along cause you’re curious. And believe me, you won’t be disappointed.”

Even as annoyed as he was, Tom couldn’t help but agree with Spruill in his head. The two of them hadn’t worked or seen a paycheck in months. Spruill was usually pretty savvy with employers and clients, so maybe there wasn’t much to worry about.

The two men walked into a dark alley and then stood before an abandoned warehouse. “This is the place!”, said Spruill. “Yeah, to get shot! Why did you agree to meet in an abandoned building?!”, cried Tom.

“Jesus, relax! We’re just here to talk with our employer. No one in there is going to kill us. They have no reason to.”

“Fine, whatever you say. I’m keeping my hand on my gun though.”

Spruill grabbed the door handle and began to pull. The hinges had rusted heavily over the years and it would take quite a bit of force to get them to budge. A minute passed and Spruill was still pulling the door and Tom was growing even more irritated.

Eventually Tom relented.

“Oh for- move aside!”

Tom gripped the handle and in about a half-second pulled the door open.

“I wore it down for you.”, said Spruill sheepishly.

“Sure you did.”, said Tom, trying to quell his rage.

The two men walked inside. The building was completely empty, all except for a short man in a suit eating at what looked like an office desk. The sound of his cutlery and munching could be heard throughout the place. At first the man didn’t notice Spruill and Tom. He was far too immersed in his meal.

Spruill gave the now exasperated Tom a nervous smile and cleared his throat loudly.

The man heard and he froze. His eyes widened and looked toward the duo. He then relaxed and hastily swallowed the rest of his meal.

“Greetings!”, said the little man wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Please, gentlemen, come in.”

Tom and Spruill walked over to the man’s desk. Spruill was visibly giddy.

“Are you Mr. Lumberjack sir?”, he asked excitedly.

Tom immediately turned to his partner.

“Mr. Lumberjack? What’re you talking abo-?”

“One moment Mr. Zapple,” interrupted the little man holding up his index finger.

The man turned to Spruill. “Yes, I am Mr. Lumberjack,” he said.

“I’m glad you gentlemen could make it. There are important matters we must discuss.”

“Such as?” asked Spruill curiously.

“Well, for one thing, your mission.”

“Which is what exactly?”

Tom was a little horrified. He doesn’t know what the job is?!

What the hell Spruill, he thought to himself.

The little man interlaced his fingers and cleared his throat.

“We have chosen you gentlemen for a covert mission and we ask that you be particularly discreet. We need you to kill this man.”

He took out a small photo from his coat pocket and set it on the desk. “This is Dr. Marcus Sung. He needs to be dead by the end of the month.”

Before the man could continue, Tom stepped in.

“Ixnay! What is all this? And who’s we?”

The little man pursed his lips and set his eyes on Tom.

“We, Mr. Zapple, are none of your concern. Just know that if you complete your mission successfully and in a timely fashion, the two of you will be given 500,000 dollars, each.”

“500,000 dollars?” asked Tom. “Come on now man,” said Spruill. “This guy’s been handing out jobs to grunts left, right and center. That’s why I was excited about bringing you here. He’s legit.”

Tom looked at a Spruill for a moment then his face softened and he turned to the little man.

“Alright. We’ll do it,” said Tom. “Where do we find the guy?”

“Leave that to us Mr. Zapple. We’ll be sending you updates on the target’s location through your partner’s phone.”

“Part of the discretion, I presume?” asked Tom. The little man tapped his nose with his index finger.

Tom cracked a cynical smile and held out his left hand. Mr. Lumberjack shook it firmly.

III Tamasin reluctantly opened her eyes. She had forgotten to shut the curtain last night and now the morning light had crept in.

She tried to get up but felt a heavy numbness in her arms. She had buried them under her pillows and slept on top of them again. Eventually, she managed to get to her feet, grab a bundle of clothes from her dresser, took a shower, fixed herself up, and went over to the closet to put on her faculty coat. The halls were especially cold today.

For some reason, the other facility staff were hellbent on blasting the air conditioning. Tamasin had been in this place only a week.

She was approached by an agent representing a government project and he had her take a special exam at her university.

She’d apparently passed with flying colors and now she was here. So far she hadn’t been assigned any role or task yet.

Apparently she was still being “assessed” by the staff members. At first, Tamasin was overjoyed at being given the chance to work for the government.

Only a privileged few are selected for government research.

But now, things had become increasingly strange. The other scientists were odd to say the least. They rarely spoke and told Tamasin nothing about the project. Stranger still, every morning, despite supposedly being on a strict sleep schedule, all the scientists wake up with horribly bloodshot eyes, as if saltwater had been slowly dripped onto them and they always took these large, silver pills after breakfast. Again, they never spoke of it and ignored Tamasin’s questions.

The only person who communicates at all with Tamasin is Director Soren, but he never said very much anyway. At this point she found it annoying more than anything else.

Tamasin rationalized that, since this is a government project, the staff probably have good reason for keeping quiet. She only half believed this argument. The whole situation was far enough from what she expected and she wasn’t sure how to act or feel about it. She certainly couldn’t turn back.

The contract she signed made that very clear.

Tamasin sat down at desk in the lecture hall and sank into her thoughts. What is the deal with this place? she asked multiple times in her head.

All of a sudden, the door in the back opened and shut. Tamasin jumped in her seat and looked over her shoulder. She saw a tall, thin, black gentleman carrying a suitcase wearing the same coat as her walk from the door and turn in her direction. He noticed her immediately and smiled.

“Oh, hello there!”, he said cheerfully, raising his free left hand to wave.

He walked over to her swiftly and took a seat at a nearby desk.

“Are you the new scientist here at the facility?”, he asked.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met, I’m Muhammad Zykes.”

He held out his right. Tamasin was still partially staring out into space. After a second she came to her senses and shook his hand firmly.

“Tamasin Rogers.”

“Right, yes, Tamasin. So you are the new worker. Pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”, she said.

Zykes paused for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry if I seem a little excited. We haven’t had new people here in quite a long time.”

“I can appreciate that. I’ve been here hardly a week and I’m bored out of my skull.”

“Are they still assessing you?” Zykes asked.

“Apparently so,” she responded drearily.

“Yeesh, believe me, I know how you feel. They kept me in the dark for at least two weeks.”

“Jesus, really?”

“Yeah. Supposedly it’s just the staff policy but I don’t know why they have to do it. Maybe they just get a kick out of it.”

“Any chance they’re going to let me know what the hell is going on soon?” Tamasin asked, giving out a bit of an exhausted chuckle.

Zykes put his hand on his chin and tilted his head from side to side.

“It varies but I think they’ll let you in on everything soon. At the very least I don’t think you’ll be suffering through two weeks,” he said, smiling.

A sharp, beeping noise blared from Zykes’ coat pocket. He pulled out a flip phone and opened it. “Ah shoot, I’m late!” he said.

“You have a flip phone?” asked Tamasin, intrigued.

“Oh, yes. We’re all issued one once we begin our work here. It’s more annoying than helpful, really.”

“They’re pretty rare where I’m from. I’ve actually never seen one in person.”

“I wouldn’t be too excited. They’re a lot worse than the phones people had a couple centuries ago.”

“Really? Why aren’t they the same?” Tamasin asked, frowning.

“Apparently the phones people had were a little too good, so the government whittled them down to just texting and calls and timers.

Anyways, I really have to go. It was good meeting you, though.”

“Oh, likewise.”

Zykes picked up his suitcase and walked away. The room was quiet and empty again.