SONAR SF Day Literary Magazine 2019
Each spring, San Francisco Day School upper school students (grades 5-8) are invited to submit a piece of writing to be considered for publication in SONAR, the SF Day literary magazine. Poems, stories, and short and long personal essays written in and out of school are all acceptable submissions. Each year, our upper school English teachers read through each piece. They select exemplary writings from each grade for publication. Congratulations to this year’s SONAR winners! You can download the online SONAR 2019 issue (and archived issues): www.sfday.org/sonar
2019 SONAR Winners 5th Grade Ronin Herrmann, Jet Ribbon Amalia Duque, The Second Day Emmett Green Todd, The Cornfield Ellis Brown, No More Tears 6th Grade Sebastian Galleno, Poseidon’s Wrath Livvy Colley, Gavin Ozanne, and Shaya Gilden, My Name poems 7th Grade Sophie Bongiorno, Fear Ella Sturm, Untitled Short Story Adam Zaidi, Theme Essay Henry Gustafson, Untitled Poem 8th Grade Jeenie Choi, Korean-American Simran Hira, The Car Crash Anika Kapan and Dominic Lehane, Where I am From poems
5th GRADE Jet Ribbon by Ronin Herrmann
“Snake!” is the first thing I hear. My breath of cool, still evening air catches halfway down my
throat. I sprint fast as the wind across the field of spring-colored grass and dandelions, my heart pounding. The overgrown blades of green slice painfully across my bare ankles. I have never seen a wild snake before. This is my chance, I think. My chance. Don’t miss it.
Others sprint after me, forming a crowd. Then I see it. A long, sleek, black ribbon of a snake
no more than ten inches long sliding through the grass on the edge of the field, moving elegantly and swiftly. I gasp. It’s beautiful…. I instantly know it’s harmless.
Its body curves back and forth in a serpentine motion that’s hypnotizing to watch.
My friend Sophie breaks through the crowd. Then she sees the snake.
“What kind is it?” she asks me.
I could have said more. I could have given her a detailed description of the California red
garter snake: Rare and endangered, identified by its unique blood red side stripes, only found in rural south California...but I don’t.
“Garter snake,” I reply breathlessly, too awestruck to say any more. Sophie nods, and picks
up the snake by its tail. I gasp in surprise with the crowd. She grins. My first thought is idiot. My second is MEE NEXT!!!!!!!!
“Who wants to hold it?” she asks the crowd. All the hands go up, of course, but mine goes
up the fastest.
The snake undulates and twists slowly in my grasp like an ethereal being. The last rays
of dying sunlight glint off its shiny, jet-colored back. The distinctive scarlet side stripes glow like hidden embers. I stroke it soothingly. I feel its heart beat a fast, terrified rhythm. My heart grows wings and takes flight. I am speechless. I feel as though its fragile life is in my hands. It probably is. I stare in awe at the beautiful creature, sleek as a ribbon and soft as silk. It raises its head and stares at me with huge, deep, wise eyes the color of midnight. I gasp slightly. This was my favorite animal in mind, but I never realized how much it touched my soul.
I reluctantly hand it off to the next person after much stroking and wows. Something tugs
at my heart, like a string connecting it and me. They all love the serpent, of course, but none of them love it as much as I do. I wait for what seems like forever, watching others gasp in awe. It comes back to me. I hold it and stroke it and it twines around my finger. Like I’m its lifeline. Not Sophie, not the other kids. Me. It’s a sign. I smile. Its movement on my hand feels cool and soothing.
After a while I pry it off, still smiling, and slide it back and forth on the grass to get the snake
used to moving again. Then I put it down where it was and let it slither away. It twines itself into the grass, weaving the spring-colored stalks around its body, and disappears from view. Everyone walks off, but not me. I watch it as it vanishes into the waving fronds of green.
Goodbye by Amalia Duque
You know that feeling when you’re at the beach and you are in the ocean, and then out of
the blue the calm water pushes a giant wave at you so fast that you can’t catch your breath? Or have you ever been to some place so hot, that when you step outside, a wave of heat rushes over you? Water is always nice, and the heat can sometimes be pleasant, but now it isn’t that great. Well that’s what my mom’s short sentence felt like to me. ****
I sighed as the car rumbled below me. I looked out the window to see my house dimly lit
and covered by sunlight.
After my perfect day in 2014, I waited at the carpool line for someone to pick me up, and
I expected that person to be my mom. But it wasn’t, it was her college friend Kim. Her college friend I only remembered vaguely, and she wasn’t as comforting as my mother.
Anyway, I was happy to be back home. So I quickly scrambled to unbuckle my seatbelt
and bust open the white car door. When I did, the smell of a new car hit me faster than a cheetah running in the tall grass. I know many people love that smell, but to me it just makes me feel like I am not at home. But I ran to my house nonetheless.
Kim smiled and ran after me as I pressed my back onto the cold metal gate to my house.
She had a silver metal key that she put into my house’s gate lock. Once the gate clicked
open, I bounced up the grimy marble stairs and stared at the wooden door with an old iron knocker.
Kim took a bronze key out now and clicked it into the door, pushing it open and almost
hitting the coat rack.
She motioned for my to go in and I gladly pranced into the living room, smile on my face.
Since I was only six I didn’t wonder that much why my whole family was in my living room,
and why my dad wasn’t there. Now that I think about it, I don’t know how I missed the clue of what my mom was going to say.
“Mom!” I said as my eyes landed on her, but my smile melted and my face dropped, as I saw
my family exchange glances of sadness.
My mom nodded and stood up, her gaze never going to me, but fixing on my uncle, my
sister, my sister’s husband, even the floor. “Good day at school?” she asked, brushing her tangled, unbrushed, black hair behind her ear in a stiff way. Trying to act cool was not her strong suit.
I walked a bit closer to her and looked around. Now I was realizing that something was up,
because why would all my family have a sudden reunion without Dad? Even a six year old would suspect something strange.
Sensing that I was confused, Mom opened her mouth to speak, “Your daddy went to the
hospital today.”
I nodded, I knew that he had cancer, and for a period of time he even was in the hospital. So
I wasn’t too surprised. But then again, I was only in kindergarten.
Mom opened her mouth again, but this time nothing came out. After three more tries (with
her clearing her throat a bit too loudly) she finally forced out words, “He died on the way there.”
There was the sentence. That short sentence that would forever change my life.
I couldn’t catch my breath, my vision got so blurry that I could only see my family with tears
in their eyes.
As much as I wanted to burst into tears I didn’t. I know that sounds insensitive to not cry
when a family member has died, but I just couldn’t.
I felt a big ache in my stomach like a knot twisting and turning inside me. I wanted to cry so
much, but my eyes wouldn’t listen. Soon my non-wet eyes felt dry like sandpaper.
Being so young I had never had felt so much sadness, and now that day is still my saddest.
My tears built up in me like a water balloon waiting to burst. Not wanting to seem cruel, I
made sad face and turned away from Mom. I just couldn’t cry. I couldn’t bear to let anyone know what I was thinking.
I closed my eyes in hope that I was just dreaming, but I surely wasn’t.
With my eyes closed and my heart beating fast, I imagined Dad. His smile glowed and his
eyes sparkled. I wondered if it was possible to even see something that wasn’t there. But I just stood and held my eyes shut as I pictured my dad.
I pictured me saying bye to him, hugging him. I had never said goodbye to him when he
left for the hospital. Well, not a true goodbye.
Only a goodbye like I would see him again, like he would be with me now.
I wish I had known, so I could have said goodbye.
Goodbye.
The Cornfield by Emmett Green Todd
Henry
London, England October 13 1837
Mother says that the more that we play, the more our mind turns to mush. Mother also says that God
created us to be successful and work hard and not to be a useless, dumb human. My sister Emily and I have took to “going shopping,” which was really going to the store, getting few ingredients, and going out to play in the park near the shopping center. There’s still one place that we have always wanted to go too, the cornfield several miles out of town. *** “Are you sure about this?” Emily always wears a long, grey dress and small white lace in her hair, that she is often scared of losing. “I mean, I know that we checked the tires and everything but I have a bad feeling in my gut.” “What could go wrong? Liam said that going at the speed that we go, we would there in no time,” I whispered. We then heard the signal, three knocks on the door, thump, thump, thump. Liam was here. We opened the door as quietly as possible and we found Liam standing there. Liam is my very best friend. Tonight he was wearing his usual outfit, which was a newsboy hat and a pair of trousers. He led us to the bikes and off we went. While I was riding, my mind started to wander. It went to Emily’s lace, to her pajamas, to how long we would stay there. Once we arrived, Emily and I were so excited that we just ditched Liam and ran in, side by side. While I was running, I ran my hands along the corn. It felt like small hands slapping my wrists but in a strange soothing way. I looked to my side to see no Emily. She must have ran another way. I suddenly heard a scream to my left. I bolted as fast as my skinny legs could. I came to find a metal trap door with a blood stain and small white lace.
Nicolas
London, England October 13 2015
“Mom, I’ve been to many corn fields and I’m sure this one will be no different from the ones in SF,” I
complained.
“Nick, don’t you want to see if that myth is true?” Mom asked. “The myth is so fake. It’s just a story to make kids not sleep.” I responded. “Well, it is Halloween season anyway, so come on!”
On the way to the corn field (it also had a pumpkin patch but the corn field was our main attraction) I saw many odd things. One, was that there were three kids riding bikes and dressed like they were from the Stone Age. Another strange thing was that we saw no one else along the way. Once we arrived, my mom said that she would go look for pumpkins and that she would let me choose between them. I decided to head into the field. I took a peaceful walk, but then I heard a girl scream. Luckily, I was very close so I got there fast. I saw a large steel trap door with “October 13th 7:46.” It was open so I figured it was a replica of the myth. I hopped right in. The last thing I saw was the trap door close. The girl that new had seen on the drive was standing there. All I felt was a sharp pain in the back. Then I went out.
Jennifer
London, England October 13 2015
Ever since we moved, my son, Nicolas, never wants to go anywhere that reminds him of San
Francisco. That is where we used to live with my husband in our small apartment. I’m the exact opposite. I love being reminded of SF, so I decided that it would be great to go to the pumpkin patch and cornfields just like we would do in the Bay Area. Plus, since Nicolas loves myths, I thought that he would love to see if the myth about a girl from the Victorian times dying inside a steel trapdoor. I thought he’d be pumped to do that, but no. Finally, after a lot of persuasion, I got him to say yes. On the way we some kids dressed up as the kids from the myth. What a joke! Once we arrived, I gave Nicolas ten dollars in case he wanted something little, and I told him that if he needed me I would be looking for a pumpkin. He then said that he was going to head into the field. After a bit of looking around, I found a couple of suitable pumpkins and I looked down at my watch. It was already 7:52! We had been there a while! I quickly purchased the pumpkins, put them into the car, and went to find Nicolas. I looked all over the cornfield until I heard a boy crying. I sprinted to the direction of the boy thinking it was Nicolas. As soon as I got there, I saw the boy that we had seen on the way there, riding their bikes. He was looking down at something. I immediately looked where he was. It was then that I saw a small white lace and the small amount of money I had given Nicolas. My face burned with red hot tears streaming down my face, fogging up my eyes. I heard footsteps behind me. I looked behind me but I couldn’t see anything. I just felt a needle on my left arm and both the boy and I fell, then went black.
Olivia
North Dakota, US November 2017
“Ding-ding-a-ling” That’s the sound of the horrid clock that wakes me up at four am every morning. I make myself either an egg or a bowl of cereal and jump into uniform and race to Minot Police Department. Once I arrived, Benjamin (the “jerk at work”) gave me the dumbest fake assignment EVER and the thing is, I have to do literally whatever he says.
“Oh! Hi Olivia!” He says in his usual raspy voice as he quickly wipes away doughnut crumbs from his triple-chin. “I have a special assignment for you.” He handed me a file that, as always, was covered with hearts and he had written “Olivia”. Unfortunately, I had to read through hundreds of pages of a fake assignment. After reading all of them William immediately said, “So, I’ve charted you a jet and a special helicopter flight to get there. Good luck!” The next morning I got up at four and packed my bags and headed to the airport. After an hour of security, I went to my private terminal and found Jimmy waiting for me with a couple of officers. “Hi, welcome to the private terminal. These kind fellows’ names are Tom and Jeff. They will accompany you on your flight. If you need anything, just ask them. I almost forgot. They won’t be coming with you on your mission though.” Jimmy said. “Miss Olivia, your charter jet is awaiting your arrival. Please board immediately.” The. loudspeaker boomed. I suddenly dashed onto the jet leaving the guards in the dust. I heard Jimmy whisper something to one of them but I didn’t care because the jet served all you can eat junk food and soda. The jet was a sleek black color and it had thin blue lights on the inside. The seats were memory foam that reclined into a bed. So, I just leaned back with Sprite in hand and enjoyed a movie. Soon, my eyes started to get heavy and I drifted off to sleep. *** I woke up to the pilot announcing our arrival to the London Heliport. I was so excited to go on a helicopter for my first time! But, I was definitely NOT excited for this case. We walked off the plane and were helped up onto a police helicopter, just as we lifted gently off of the ground. We turned around and saw tall buildings and barely missed balconies, as we flew through the air. When we left London, I could see the large cornfield in the distance. As we got closer to the cornfield it didn’t look all that bad. It had rows of year old pumpkins that absolutely NO ONE would buy, but besides that, it just looked like exactly where I would go if I were a kid to play. In fact, I would never come home I would love it so much. We landed at about four o’clock and one of the guards said that I should wait until later to explore the field. I decided not to argue because all it would cause is trouble. Later, I explored the field. It was about seven by that time, but it was still light enough to see where I was going. My mind started wandering as I searched through the field. I tripped and stubbed my toe on something and I did a little face plant. When I woke up I felt my bruises, sat up, and looked at what I had fallen on, which ended up being a small, steel trapdoor. “No, I couldn’t be true. From the myth?!” I thought to myself. How could it be true? It’s from the myth. It fits the description perfectly! I suddenly heard a rustling in the corn to the left of me. As the corn parted, a small nose the size of a pebble popped out. Then, a black and white face, soon enough, a whole family of fully grown raccoons emerged from the corn.
The first one started to growl as I started to run, ducking under corn, jumping over corn, sliding under. I then arrived at the camp where the officers had set up four tents and and a burning fire. I jumped onto one of the chairs that was arranged around the fire and told the officers about the drama of the night. After that was over, I slid into my snug sleeping bag and slept the night through until I woke to the smell of sizzling bacon. My mouth started to drool as my nose filled with a lovely sensation. I pulled on my heavy duty pants, lifted my vest up with a grunt, shoved my feet into my boots and unzipped my tent. I clobbered over to one of the camping chairs and collapsed into it. As I relaxed my muscles I felt a warm plate set on my lap. The smell of the bacon came back and my body jerked back into motion as I inhaled the food. “When can I start searching?” I asked in between bites. “As soon as you’re ready,” one of the officers said. Then he mumbled, “If you ever are.” I shoved my last bite of delectable food down my throat and headed into the field. I tried to use my memory as best as I could to find the trapdoor. Finally, after a lot of work, I found it. I set down my pack and took out the flag, caution tape, and cones from my bag. First, I unfolded the flag and stabbed it into the ground. Then I set up the cones around the trapdoor and tied strips of the caution tape around them, just to make sure that no one would disturb the trapdoor (for obvious safety reasons). Then, I took out my knife (not for what you think) and started to hack down corn stalks. By the time that I was satisfied with my work, the sun was well behind me. I felt my neck and felt a small burning sensation. Ugh, sunburns are the worst! I headed back to my tent to fetch some sunscreen. I climbed inside and rubbed the smooth cream on my soft skin and laid down to stretch. It was too late by the time that I realized that my eyes were getting heavy. I woke up hours later, hungry and tired. I trudged out of my tent to find that the officers weren’t waiting outside for me. Where could they be? I searched all over for them. Every spot that I checked they weren’t there. I finally remembered how they had given me their phone numbers. I took out my phone. It was out of batteries. Of course, at the most important time to need a phone, it always needs to be out of batteries I finally decided to go out and look for them. I searched for about fifteen to twenty minutes until I saw them walking from on way. I jumped out and said, “Boo!” They both jumped clear off the ground and one of them (which I soon learned that his name was Ethan) “Oh, hi…” he said guiltily, “Didn’t see you there… haha.” I was immediately suspicious. “Where were--” “Out on a walk.” Said William (Ethan’s brother, and the other officer) with speed. “Hmm…” I said as I walked away. What could be happening? A couple hours later, I decided to go back into the field. I only wanted to go there because it was October thirteenth and the right time (and obviously right place) to prove the myth true or false. I walked in cautiously and went to where I had put a flag. The trapdoor was wide open. My adrenaline started thumping. “Buddump, buddump.” It seemed to be pulsing inside my brain. It felt like my head was going to burst.
I walked in with Ethan and William by my side. I took a deep breath and a big step in. At first I tried to be dramatic but I ended up tripping and falling. How pathetic. Once I got up I realized that Ethan and William weren’t behind me. “Ethan? William?” There was no answer. So, I decided that I didn’t need two dumb security guard people. I just kept going. The walls were made of thick steel that absolutely no one would be able to afford. I tried to knock on the wall which resulted in me hurting my hand and a loud echoing sound bouncing all over the walls. My lamp started to dim and I started to shiver. Shivering can be caused when you are cold or scared, and I was both of those. My lamp flickered and went out. I felt a hand rest on my right shoulder and I slowly turned my head around to see who was behind me. I saw the outline of a while mask when the person said, “Nice to meet you here,” It was Benjamin “Olivia. What a pleasant surprise…” As I started running, I could hear multiple sets of footsteps behind me. I darted around corners and stumbled over cords and wires until I saw the light from the trapdoor ahead of me. I scrambled up the ladder and escaped right before the trapdoor closed. The last thing that I saw was all of the people who had ever been killed there looking at me with no eyes in their sockets. The only thing that was in their sockets was pure black that when you looked at them it felt like you were staring into a sky with no stars. The trapdoor closed with a loud bang.
Olivia
North Dakota, present day Once William had left, I knew for sure that he was behind the case. So, since I left the bunker, multiple people died in there. Some of the people were in the police, or other government jobs, and, unfortunately, there were more kids. So, I decided to gather a team that I could rely on. The first people that popped into my mind were some of my best friends, but the only problem was that they lived all over the world. All of the travels that I did in the past year lead me to where I was. I was standing in front of the trapdoor, in London, waiting for it to open once more to let me have a second try. I was surrounded by all of my friends who I think that I should introduce to you. Probably my best friend, Scarlet, is what some call a quarantine specialist you may be wondering why I would need quarantine but he answer is simple she would need to see the conditions so that we could decide what to do with them. My other friend, Noah, who is a chemist. He and I have been working together to create the perfect vaccine that hopefully will cure them. My last friend named Ava and she is a security guard (thankfully not like the last ones)( and I thought that we would need her just in case something went terribly wrong but hopefully that doesn’t happen. “It should be open soon,” Noted Scarlet. “Besides, we could just break it open.” “Don’t worry, it’ll happen.” I said as the doors parted creakily. They all gaped in amazement. For them it probably felt like a Star Wars film where the doors open and smoke comes out as the storm troopers appear. The only thing that was missing was the storm troopers and the smoke but, it still was amazing.
We headed in with me leading. “Prepare for anything,” I said. “We must be aware.” At that moment I heard a swoosh and a quiet yelp and I looked behind me and I saw that Ava was gone. “What?” I thought aloud. “Where is Ava?” “No clue. What about you?” questioned Noah. “I have no idea.” responded Scarlet. Then I heard a thump and turned around fast enough to see Ava thrown on the floor. I helped her up and asked, “What just happened?” All though, I already knew the answer. “I was grabbed by a hand,” explained Ava. “Then I saw a quick glimpse of their face which was masked. They quickly blinded me with expertise and stole all of my weapons. After that they just threw me back as you saw.” “Ok. We’ll just have to be even more cautious as we move.” I explained. We kept going when suddenly I heard footsteps. Luckily, they hadn’t stolen Ava’s bags though so we could use those. I signaled to stop and be quiet so that whoever was near wouldn’t hear us. We hid behind some random sacks as the people rounded the corner. Sorry, I misspoke. “Cool, you ready?” I said. “Ok,” said Ava. “Let’s give it a go.’ Noah first injected Nicolas with the vaccine and his eyes rolled back into his sockets. He blinked a couple of times and said, “What? Who? How?” Noah put his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder and said, “It’s all ok, just wait for your mom.” Nicolas gave Noah a confused look. They were not people, they were zombies. But, they were no ordinary zombies for multiple reasons; one, they did not have creepy, rotten flesh, they had normal skin, and two is that they had no eyes like I explained before. Anyway, there were only three of them. I soon learned that their names were Henry, Emily, and Nick. They were just kids so we just bagged them up and kept them there with Noah so that he could take care of them. We also realized that Ava wouldn’t be a help so we decided that we could keep her there, too. Scarlet and I kept moving until I found what I had been looking for. We heard voices and we approached the room where all the noise was coming from. It was coming from an area where the door was open and there was light pouring out. We stormed in and yelled “surrender!” but Benjamin, Ethan and William had no reaction. The only thing that Benjamin did say is, “Sorry Olivia, you are just to late. Tsk, tsk…” “Ha! We already captured all of your ‘friends’.” said Scarlet with a proud smile. “Oh, but have you forgotten about the mother?” said Ethan.
“And you thought that we came without knowledge?” I said as I spun around and made a random kick which somehow hit. But it only knocked her down so that gave me a chance to use the last bag to blindfold her and pin her behind scrap metal. Meanwhile Scarlet tried to distract the others. I grabbed Benjamin’s legs and flipped him over (which wasn’t easy since he is really fat) and Scarlet knocked over Ethan and William. While Benjamin was down I had time to steal his keys, put them all inside the room, and lock them in. After all of that was over we finally went back to check on Noah. On the way back we dragged the mom out of there. After a long search we found Noah. “Hi, we found the big one.” said Scarlet. “Oh, hi. We decided to wait for you to put in the vaccines.” replied Noah. They were still just laying there making sure that the “zombies” wouldn’t move. Soon, Jennifer (the mom) was up and running and after there was a long talk about what had just happened. We thought that it was finally time to bring back the others. Noah slowly injected the vaccine into Henry. His eyes fluttered and he looked exhausted. He just layer back as Emily was brought back to life. Emily seemed more awake but still wouldn’t get up. “Henry, are you feeling the same as I?” “Yes, sister,” responded Henry. They sat in silence laying next to each other in silence. Finally, Henry said, “I want to see mother.” I started to cry as I said, “That was almost two hundred years ago.” They both laid there as they cried and started to die. Their last words were, “Tell mother that we’re sorry.” *** Once it was only Nick, Jennifer, and us. We decided to give them a tour of what it is like nowadays. We went all over and they were just stunned. We thought that it would be a good idea to see how they would react to a new iPhone. So, we went down to the nearest Apple store and got them a phone. “Wow!” they were absolutely speechless as they played one of the new mobile games on their new phones. To end our adventures we got them a house right on the heart of London. I then went home and the moment that I stepped off the plane everybody from my office was awaiting my arrival. After I handed out copies of the journal that I had written I was made chief. “Ahh…” I said. “Peace at last...”
No More Tears by Ellis Brown Ohana means family; family means that no one is left behind or forgotten. Ohana means family; family means that no one is left behind or forgotten. Ohana means family; family means that no one is left behind or forgotten. OHANA MEANS FAMILY; FAMILY MEANS THAT NO ONE IS LEFT BEHIND OR FORGOTTEN. It was November 1st, Dia de los muertos, if you would like to call it that. I peeled apples, set out flowers and pictures,sprinkled rose petals, and placed sugar skulls for the altar honoring my Lola, or grandmother in Tagalog. Tears tumbled down my face and splashed onto each picture. I slumped onto the bench near Lola’s altar. It felt like only yesterday her warm embrace had left mine forever. My family and I gathered around the dining table, each of us holding a flickering candle. Silence cloaked the room but before I opened my eyes, everyone was gone. And me… I stood there; waiting for a miracle, waiting for her to appear in front of me Nobody said a word that day, one word could ruin it all. No more tears, their faces seemed to say. Soon, the sky was cloaked in a washed swirl of neon colors. I took a black and white photograph of Lola from the altar, and brought it with me to bed. To keep a piece of her with me. Incenses of faded, inky color closed over me as I drifted off to sleep. No more tears, I thought, no more tears. When I woke up, I heard eerie singing, and it felt as if I was drowning. An inky black vision of my cousin’s Baguio house swam around me as I floated through this unimaginable landscape. A bright light struck the sky like lightning and suddenly, I stare at an angel like figure. “Lola?” I whispered, I sat down next to my glowing abuela (grandmother in Spanish). She laid her warm hand on my shoulder and smiled at me. “I miss you Lola; we all miss you.” For the first time she spoke, and inquired, “Where have I gone?” The bright light soon faded, and once again, the swirl of dark washed colors closed over me, the incense, it gets heavier and heavier. I sink into the strange mist ; I’m falling! I’m falling! Light floods through me and… I’m back! Staring at my Lola’s photo-In my bed-In my room-In my house- In my city- In my world- all alone? Ohana means family; family means that no one gets left behind or forgotten. Have I been forgotten? Has Lola? No matter what, she was right, she hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s right here right now, whether her message was a dream or not. No more tears I knew, no more tears. The End. Epilogue —————————————————
Josephine “Lola Nae nee” Gonzalez lived 1935-2017, she and my mom traveled to America when my mom was 12 years old, leaving my Lolo and three uncles behind. She took care of me until I was old enough to go to preschool, and when my mom came home from work, she would let me smile and tap the window so mom would know that I missed her. She went back to the Philippines when I was in second grade and I visited her ever since. She had to maintain five jobs to provide for her family. Dedicated to the memory of Josephine “Lola Nae nee” Gonzalez.
6th GRADE Poseidon’s Wrath by Sebastian Galleno After all the tragedies that he had to go through, it was surely worth it to finally be back with his family. Currently, Ulysses was teaching Telemachus, his son, some tips on sword work. Telemachus was already pretty good with a sword, but this was a way that they could catch up on twenty years of missed father and son time. Ulysses deftly flipped Telemachus’s sword hilt, making the sword fly into the air. “And that,” Ulysses stated, “is how you disarm an enemy sword man.” “Cool, I wish those suitors were still here so I see their faces if I used it on them,” replied Telemachus. Just then, they heard a big rumble. A servant rushed in. “My lord, the Earthshaker’s wrath has found us!” “Please explain,” replied Telemachus, calm under distress after single handedly protecting his mother from suitors for twenty years. “There is a giant storm coming to the shore; the waves have the look of horses and all kinds of sea animals are in the wave!” “Come my son, we must face this new challenge.” Said Ulysses. As Ulysses arrived at the beach, Poseidon himself appeared. “ULYSSES!” He called, “come face your maker!” “I am here, what must I do to earn your forgiveness?” asked Ulysses. “Just come with me.” and with a swish of his hand, Ulysses dissolved into seafoam “Father!” Cried Telemachus, “why must you leave again? I just got you back but the god’s wrath is truly terrible!” *** Under the water now, in Poseidon’s palace, Ulysses found himself facing three mermen with tridents. “I would advise you to not move, but it would be a great service to my lord if we got to spear you.” Greeted one of them. In a flurry of water, Poseidon appeared behind his men. “How must I plead forgiveness to you, Great Earthshaker?” questioned Ulysses, “I will face you with three tasks, if you complete these, then I will let you go.” answered Poseidon with a sharkish smile. “Have I not already paid a big enough price. From island to island you bounced me for 10 years.” “Be quiet, you are lucky that I do not strike you and your island down right now!” roared Poseidon. With that, he turned and stalked off leaving Ulysses and his guards to scurry after. Soon they arrived in a giant gladiatorial arena with mermen and other sea creature filling the stands. Poseidon sat down in what would usually be the emperor’s box but now had his throne in it. He sat next to his wife, Amphitrite. She looked a mix of bored and slightly excited, but not pitying. No help from there then, I will just have to solve this problem with my brain, like always. “Seems like you were expecting me then.” observed Ulysses. “We have, with great anticipation for you will be facing some foes that the ocean has kept hidden since before the Titan’s age.” replied Poseidon with anticipation. Then in a louder voice, one that has eons of experience of talking over the crash of waves, “Ulysses, your first task shall be to face down the Triangles of Death!” ooooh, very dramatic.
In actuality, the ‘Triangles of Death’ were a set of about fifty floating triangles that are about the size of a head. They were originally created by the Elder Cyclops to help the gods in the Titan War but were scrapped because they wouldn’t have been much more than an annoying pest to the titans. To humans though, they were quite deadly considering that they homed in on whatever target they were set to attack. As Poseidon released them into the arena, they split into two groups to pincer Ulysses. As they did this an idea started forming in Ulysses devious mind. The first group started probing Ulysses while the other group got behind him. About five of the triangles broke off to attack. Ulysses easily cut them down with a couple sword slashes. The crowd roared. “This noise isn’t helping my concentration.” he muttered angrily. He heard a buzzing noise as the second group closed in on him from behind. At the last second, he danced out of their way. Again, one group moved to go behind and the other set off a small attack. When the flaking group came in again Ulysses dodged out of the way again. “Dance, Ulysses, dance. Eventually they will get you.” cried Poseidon. As the flanking group moved behind again, Ulysses charged the first group, slashed a few of them, causing the group to start chasing him. He started running towards the flanking group, which, by now had turned and had started charging him. As he was about to collide with the flanking group, he dove under them so that they crashed into the group chasing him. This caused instant chaos as the two groups destroyed each other. “Very good Ulysses,” called Poseidon, “making them kill each other. That might not work so well against your next foe for you will be facing Alika, one of my own children. He is more of the airy kind though.” said Poseidon with a chuckle. Alika was indeed airy. In fact, he was entirely made of air. He looked like a merman, but was completely transparent. “Normally, if you were to fight air, you wouldn’t hit anything and the air wouldn’t be able to harm you, but Alika has mastered turning from solid to gas at will. You won’t be able to hit him until he decides to hit you.” explained Poseidon. “Finally, an actual challenge. I thought maybe the ocean had used all it’s creatures up.” Taunted Ulysses. Poseidon’s face tightened and his face grew rosier but he held his tongue, not wanting to rise to Ulysses’s bait. Ulysses turned his wit on Alika, “Well then, one of Poseidon’s brood. I just guess Poseidon was feeling gassy when he created you.” If air could turn different colors, Alika would have been beetroot red. He charged Ulysses with his sword raised. Ulysses swung his sword in an arc of light to try to fend him off but Alika just walked straight through it and slashed at Ulysses. Ulysses, much like a cat, dodged out of the way but still cried out in pain for his thigh had been cut. For a moment before he got cut, he saw Alika in solid form. It lasted for less than 5 seconds, but that would be enough for his plan. Ulysses started backing away towards one of the walls. “Are you scared Ulysses, I would be too if I were you, I am the great Alika, and you cannot defeat me!” Bragged Alika. Ulysses felt a sudden jolt and felt the cold stone on his back. He was trapped. The time to act was now. As Alika charged him again, he waited for the last second to raise his sword so that he actually blocked Alika’s stroke. Then, quick as lighting strikes, he grabbed Alika’s shirt and shoved him as hard as he can into the wall. As Poseidon had said, Alika had mastered changing form, but as anything does, he still needs to have a small bit of focus to change. Focus that he didn’t have being dazed and half conscious. While Alika was stuck in solid form, Ulysses quickly stabbed him in the gut. Alika turned to face Ulysses with a surprised expression, mumbled something incomprehensible, and turned into sea foam, floating away like bubbles in a breeze.
“Hmmmmm.” Grunted Poseidon, “that was most unexpected. Never mind though, your last challenge shall be to face my herd of water horses. I usually use them to travel across the sea so they are well trained to work together. If you defeat them, then you will be free of my son Polyphemus’s curse.” “Good, how hard can it be, they are just horses after all?” Asked Ulysses. “We shall see, won’t we?” Replied Poseidon, then in a louder voice, “Release the herd!” About a hundred horses charged out of a tunnel that had opened up in the arena. The herd, as Poseidon called it, were a magnificent sight to see. They were in five lines of 20 horses, perfectly aligned. Water sprayed into the air as the raced towards Ulysses. As they ran, or swam, they galloped a couple of inches off the ground. They changed shape from horses to turbulent water that churned like a sea in a storm. “I see, quite difficult.” Whispered Ulysses. He realized that he would not be able to defeat the horses himself. There were too many and they would trample him before he slayed a quarter of them. Nobody else in the arena seemed to be ready to help. The spectators were too excited to see him die, Amphitrite still seemed very bored, as if this happened everyday, and Poseidon wouldn’t kill his own herd. Or would he? He might if the horses were in a position to kill him. This new idea took hold in before the horses had moved across half of them arena. Ulysses started running. His only chance would be to get in position before the horses or Poseidon guessed what he was doing. Come on Ulysses, this for your home, Ithaca. You didn’t survive twenty years of torture to die here! He scolded himself. This sense of responsibility put an extra boost of power into his limbs. Now he was leading the horses on a direct path to Poseidon’s box seats. He saw Poseidon’s eyes go wide with surprise then his jaw set in a hard line. Just as Ulysses was about to dive out of the way, Poseidon zapped the horses with his trident. Even though gods cannot die, they can be hurt to a point where they can’t come back, like how Kronos got cut up into thousands of pieces. Getting trampled by one hundred magical horses was a way that that might be able to happen. He turned to Ulysses with a tight face. “It seems to me that you have used your cunning once again to defeat your opponents,” he said. “It seems that I have, and if I remember correctly, you said that would free me of your wrath. Will you do so?” Ulysses asked. “Are you calling me an oathbreaker? I said I would free you of my wrath for disgracing my son, do not bring my wrath upon you for other reasons,” Poseidon said with heat “ you are free to go.” With a wave of his hand, Ulysses was once more floating to the surface as sea foam. *** As Ulysses reformed on the beach where he left, he found Telemachus on his knees praying by a fire. “My son, what are you doing?” asked Ulysses. “Father!” shouted Telemachus, “you are back, where did you go?” “I was freeing us of Poseidon’s wrath.” Replied Ulysses, “I had to complete three battles to earn The Earthshaker’s forgiveness. My first task was to defeat the Triangles of Death…”
My Name Livvy Colley My name is a lambent flower mid-bloom. Each petal so delicate the wind makes it wobble. My name is Olivia, Olivia Reese Colley. Olivia means peace. If you say peace, don’t you feel more relaxed? More calm? Try it. Livvy. Do you feel that sharpness? Like a your tongue is running away from the roof of your mouth. But Livvy…, well, it means elf army.?. Do not ask me where that came from. Olivia is my name, it is. But I have always hated that delicate feeling. Hated it. As far back as I can remember, people have been calling me Livvy. I loved that. It had a ring that I loved. If Olivia is a flower, Livvy is a cactus. Amazing but scary at the same time. A warrior. And so I guess that’s why I have always identified by Livvy. Squinting eyes examine me and size me up and I always know what’s coming. Always. “You’re more of a Livvy,” they say. I mouth along with them. Is it annoying? No. Is it helpful? No. Even though I one hundred percent agree, am I supposed to identify as a Livvy because of what they think? I don’t think so. My name is my choice. Period. If you think of the origin of names, names were just easier to have to prevent too much pointing. Now, well, names kind of are you. My name is mixed emotions, like if you threw bitter and sweet in a blender. I love my name. And if someone thinks “I’m more of an ‘Olivia,’ ” then so be it.
My Name Gavin Ozanne To Google my name is from gwalch and maedd. Gaelic for Hawk and Battle. In Arthurian legends my name was a byname for Sir Gawain of the round table, nephew of King Arthur. But just a name. I love to argue. Always searching like a hawk for an argument. Then fighting like a battle. In a way google is right. My name fits me. But if I had to change it, it would have a different spelling. Or pronunciation. To be unique. Gavyn. Gaven. Or just Gavin. I like the name Gavin. My name is creative. It is sad. But happy at the same time. Like the cool water. With a sad drip drop. My name is brown. Plain brown like this. My name is blank like a white board. It gets marked up and erased with hints of what came before. Nicknames like Kermit or Cactus even Gavino Bambino sometimes Butterfingers and G$... All are nicknames some old some new. All different from my real name. But I’m still me. My name is me. But not all the way. I am still myself without my true name. I love my name. My name to my mom is like a delicious meal. But with a hint of spice. To my grandparents, my name is like a beautiful birdsong. But that’s not really because my name. It’s because I’m me. My middle name is Simon. After my dad. My dad died before I was born. According to my mom I’m just like him. That’s the hint of spice for her. I like my name, and I define it.
My Name Shaya Gilden When I try to visualize my name, I picture it in blue light coming out of the background. The light is soft at first, but then it becomes sharp in bold, vivid lines. The first soft sound makes the rest of the name scream a sharp but quiet scream. My name sort of fits me. It has two sides. The first part of my name is like a soft sad voice. Pretty, but unhappy. The other part of my name is happy, bright, and joyful. Like me. But it is dulled out by the rest of my name if you say it slowly. When you say it kind of fast though, it is pretty. My name is inspired by my great-grandpa. Not the same as him though. No. There is only one of me. It is a very gentile name. When is written it is neat. The letters come together nicely, like pieces of a puzzle. When people pronounce each syllable of my name and don’t blend the letters, which almost always happens, this makes my like a watercolor painting. But in this painting, the artist used too much water and not enough color on half of the page, and too much color and not enough water on the other sides of the page. Part of the page is rock solid and and the other part is dripping with smeared and blended color. Sometimes I like my name like this. Sometimes. I wish. That. When people said it. Like that. my whole name. Was. Together. The same. But when people say it properly, like a sigh, with all of the letters blended together, it sounds like a sad lullaby, the sound softly and quietly echoing all over. Like a whisper.
7th GRADE Fear by Sophie Bongiorno I am stuck in a storm My sail facing the wind The wind whipping my face Batting me back Fighting my fatigue I must fight on For in the distance a wave emerges It is more mountain than wave My boat more boat than climber I stand there staring blankly
as I do most days
Watching the approaching madness I clench my fists For I can get through this I will I must Life will go on So I must to Suffer through the spikes of fear and the Bumps rocking through the boat And rise to the other side like a god come to life. When I get through the storm I watch the wave crash And dissolve Into the nothingness it came from I watch it Until I forget what I was looking at.
Short Story by Ella Sturm As I walked down the hall of my city school a million thoughts went through my head, but most of them were about my life and how people saw me. I trudged along smiling and saying hi to the kids I’d been with for nine years but on the inside all I could think about is what they saw in me. I wondered if how they saw me was the same way I saw myself, or if they thought more highly of me. This I will never know. Even though I knew they were saying hi and being kind, I couldn’t tell if that’s what their intentions were. So as I got to class I sat down, praying that someone would sit with me but no one ever did. No one ever would. A girl who had a thousand things weighing her down would never have anything. That night when I was in bed I thought about all the interactions I had that day and what the meant. I went back to middle school and thought about Maddison who had been my best friend. Someone who I would tell all my secrets to. But that was then and this is now, it’s like she doesn’t even know I’m there. I thought about how we were like sisters until that day. I came to school in an outfit we had planned to wear together but I don’t even think she remembers that. I got out of the car and ran over to her but something felt different, she was different. She was talking to them. Those girls who we had laughed at our whole lives because they were so perfect. She was talking to them like I didn’t even exist, because after that day I didn’t. As I drifted off to sleep I hoped the next day would be better than today. I hoped she would say one word to me. I hoped she would notice me. But she wouldn’t I don’t know why I hoped she would I was nothing and she was everything. That morning I woke up dreading the day before me. As I walked down the stairs to leave, silent tears rolled down my face and hit the ground with a splash like a rock into a pond. I tried to brush them away but they streamed down like heavy rain. I didn’t know what caused them but they wouldn’t go away. As I walked down the street I thought about how no one would care if I crept away into the shadows never to return again. Life would go on and no one would remember me. Tomorrow the sun would go up and that night it would go down and the seasons would change and I would be nothing more than a forgotten soul. When I got to my locker at the end of third period I saw the other kids but it was like I was a ghost, there but not really with everyone but still they stared. I’m not sure why they looked at me. I had black hair like midnight, my skin was tan from being on the beach that summer, and my lips were blood red. I had brown eyes that wear deep and mesmerizing. I wasn’t the tallest kid but I wasn’t short either. I wore sweatpants and a sweatshirt and there wasn’t much to look at. So I’m not sure why the looked so awkwardly at me but they did. When I got to the cafeteria it was the same old struggle of where to sit. I could sit with Maddison but social standards wouldn’t allow that and I don’t even know why wanted to but I did. So I sat alone, again. As I thought I realized that I hadn’t sat with anyone since Maddison left. It was like There was a force field around my that no one dares to come near. My heart was slowly breaking, I felt like a fish with dogs so out of place it was crazy. And as the months went on it was like someone was slowly chipping away at my heart and mind.
The little things that people did felt like rocks being thrown at me. It was like everything that happened was another weight attached to my leg until I couldn’t walk anymore. One afternoon I was sitting in therapy recounting the times I had had those awful thoughts and those times I had tried to take action but was stopped. As I walked out I saw text from Maddison and as I read it, if only for a millisecond my head came out of the darkness and into the light but once I was done I shriveled back up and went back into the blackness. The text said “Hey, I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what to say so I just stood there staring at it and for the first time in months, I felt truly happy even if it was only a little. I responded with “what are you sorry for?” Even though I knew exactly what she was sorry for I couldn’t let her know that she had hurt me. I was to good for that. But as I stood waiting for a response, waiting for her to acknowledge what she’d done to me nothing came. So I was alone, all alone again. I decided that it was a mistake and she didn’t mean to text me, it wasn’t even that direct. So I just stood there with the wind howling and cars racing down the street trying to get to their loving families. I just sat on the steps, time passing without anything to do. I thought a little bit more about the text from Maddison and I convinced myself it wasn’t true, that she hadn’t meant to text me until I realized Maddison had no idea what I was going through she didn’t know that everyone hated me (or so I thought). She didn’t know the struggle I was facing and I didn’t know her struggles or her problems. From what I saw she was perfect she had everything. She was the beautiful, popular, stylish icon that everyone idealized. But I wasn’t sure what she was going through. I didn’t know if she was having problems at home or with her “popular” friends or if she just remembered what we used to have. It could have just been an attempt at rekindling an old friendships. As I got up to go home a small smile crept onto my face it was a new feeling and I could only remember. But it felt good. I didn’t know what would come next but I knew that I would have to do something to make it happen. I knew that it was the beginning of something good.
Untitled Poem by Henry Gustafson π sits in the corner, feeling lonely, Irrational, with no logic or meaning to his life. He is the farthest away from the end Or even the start of any circular journey i comes over to π’s side and says: How could you feel lonely when I am not even real? I am the opposite of everything in reality. “Well we are both lonely,” says π, With no hope of finding a friend We are both as far as we could be From any path to an orderly life But e is lonely too, just as far from safety Even as far from me or you If we just jump on e’s back together We will be in the perfect place We will be seen as the most useful The most amazing The most inspiring and beautiful team All numbers are lonely until they find each other
Theme Essay by Adam Zaidi
Most people do not appreciate what they have until it has left them. A prime example of
this is in Stephen Roos’ short story, “Picky Eater.” In this story the main character, Woody, does not value his friendship with his neighbor Nelson until Nelson dies. Through the character of Woody, Stephen Roos suggests that people do not know or value what they have until it is gone.
In “Picky Eater,” Woody does not seem to value his friendship with his friend Nelson until
Nelson dies. At the beginning of the story, the narrator states that at school, they never talk and don’t even nod when they pass each other in the hall. It’s only okay for them to hang out when none of the kids are around. Woody also feels as though they aren’t very good friends because he thinks that he can’t help hoping Nelson doesn’t go around telling people that they’re friends. This shows that even though Woody sees Nelson every day, he didn’t value his friendship with Nelson and didn’t feel any connection with Nelson. He just views Nelson as the odd kid who lives next door. He doesn’t want to be seen with Nelson. After Nelson died and Woody talked to Nelson’s parents, he realized that Nelson was a good friend. “Before Mrs. Grillo can say anything more, Woody runs home. He’s crying now, and he doesn’t want Mr. Grillo to see.” This shows that Woody has changed because at first, he did not want to connect with Nelson, but after Nelson died he reflected on his friendship and realized that he was a good friend. Mrs. Grillo mentions how a lot of the boys weren’t as nice to Nelson as Woody was, and that she was thankful for it. Woody realized that he should not have laughed at the joke at lunch and he felt bad. He kept the pink tassel with him in his pocket as a reminder of Nelson.
Stephen Roos shows that people do not appreciate what they have until it is gone. I was on
crutches for six weeks because of a foot surgery, and I realized that being able to walk everywhere was something I had taken for granted. I did not realize how hard it would be, and I really valued being able to walk afterwards. I did not realize how much walking meant to me after I was not able to do it. To be able to really realize how much I valued walking, it had to be taken away from me. Another example is our current president. I valued our last president, Barack Obama, but I did not really realize how much I appreciated him until our current president was elected. I appreciated his policies and his professional manner. Again, it took President Obama leaving and President Trump being elected for me to fully appreciate the actions of President Obama. It is hard to appreciate something until you know what it is like when it is gone.
Stories are used to idealize scenarios, whether good or bad. That is why themes are
important. Themes help us understand why stories are important, and through their theme, stories can teach us how to be better people. Stephen Roos is trying to make us think about what we value, and it trying to tell us to value them while we can. This is very important in real life. We all have people that we value, and we need to make sure that we love and appreciate them as much as we can.
8th GRADE Korean-American by Jeenie Choi
One day, my grandma brings a hanbok, traditional Korean clothing, to my daycare. I put
it on and take pictures with all of my friends. My teachers hug me and tell me they loved having me, while I was wondering why all of a sudden they loved me so much. I act like it’s just any other day, oblivious of the fact that it’s my last day. The next day, my grandma is crouched on the floor, packing all my clothes into a suitcase. I knew we were going back to America, but I thought I would return again soon.
I was three, and my arm was waving in the air at my parents who were waiting at the
airport with a bouquet of flowers. I was just 100 days old, and my grandparents had taken me 6,000 miles away from San Francisco to South Korea. My mom and dad were loaded with work and did not have time nor resources to look after me. So my grandparents kindly offered to look after me. I would spend three months in Korea, then return for three months and repeat until the age of three.
In Korea, which I considered home, I went to daycare every day in a small town called
Sanbon where my grandparents lived. Located on the first floor of an apartment building a few blocks away from my grandparents’ home was where I spent most of my day. I made Korean friends with whom I would watch Pororo while eating seaweed soup and conversing in Korean. On my third birthday, celebrated in my grandparents’ home, my grandma prepared rice and fermented soybeans and bought all my favorite treats. I called my parents back in San Francisco, and they wished me a happy birthday. I was smiling and laughing every day. I had a very happy childhood in Korea.
Then one day, my grandma brings a hanbok, traditional Korean clothing, to my daycare. I
put it on and take pictures with everyone. My teachers hug me and tell me they loved having me while I was wondering why all of a sudden they loved me so much. I thought it was a day just any other day, oblivious of the fact that it’s my last day. The following day, my grandma is crouched on the floor, packing all my clothes into a suitcase. I knew we were going back to America, but I thought I would return again soon. At SFO airport, after a long twelve-hour flight for a three-year-old, I couldn’t contain my happiness when I saw my parents again. A few days later, my mom explains that I am staying in San Francisco and I would have to attend preschool. Suddenly, I realized I would be living in this less familiar place after traveling between two places constantly. And just as suddenly, I longed for Korea.
On the first day of preschool in America, I walked into the classroom, holding my mother’s
hand. The first thing I noticed was that I was different than everybody else. I looked different, and within a few minutes, I realized I couldn’t talk to anyone because I didn’t speak their language. I wanted to cry and hang on to my mom’s leg, and when she left I simply held my tears knowing it wouldn’t help. That day was a day of many firsts. The first time I ate crackers and cheese for snack, watched Caillou, and spoke English. Looking back, it’s a relief I was still so young, and my brain was developing, so I caught on to English quickly. I learned to adapt quickly, and I became mature. But, that feeling of not fitting in--at such a young age--- followed me and left a wound that wouldn’t heal for years.
Where I am From by Anika Kapan I am from beaches, from Barbie’s House and dental floss. I’m from the clunky fan in my living room, (spinning, sighing, it moves my hair.) I am from the hibiscus bush, the mango tree, with glistening droplets of fruit that fall into my hands I’m from caramels and blue eyes from Marilyn and Gram. I’m from the late-goers and the newcomers, from “Quiet Down” and “Look Around” I’m from Darwin’s book and his evolution which shaped my own. I’m from bakeries and pool tables, the smoke at the 2 am club. From spam and fudgesicles with Barb n’ Jim. The boat my grandpa took to get here the plane he took to fly away. The shoebox in my closet watches me memories creeping down snippets of laughter clunk into my head. I fail to fall asleep.
Where I am From by Dominic Lehane
I am from the brisk air, from jackets and fleeces. I am from the northern heights. (Where the fog rolls in.) I am from the revived spring, and the eucalyptus whose days are now numbered. I’m from laughing and crying, from Gaetano and Cecil. I’m from the left and the right. From balloons and charms. I’m from the lord, yet not of the lord’s people. I’m from different islands in the seas. From breads, pastas and grapes. From the time we almost went under, and joined the mer-men. The bookcase above my head capped in old photos, a scattering of strayed faces, portraits of an older time. I am from these snapshots— as much as I am from my own memories— both intrinsic yet foreign to me.
The Car Crash by Simran Hira “Uncle Shyam went to the market to buy some strawberries, salad, snakes, scissors, salt and…”, I pause for a second, trying to remember the things that my family had rattled off before me. It was a boiling hot day in New Delhi, India, and our whole family was packed in a stuffy car with beads of sweat on our foreheads trying to pass time by playing a silly memory game. My Grandpa, who was 80 years old and had the memory of a newborn baby, looked at me with a glimmer of hope, wishing that I would forget the next word. “Sausages!”I scream. I glow with happiness, while my Grandpa sighs in defeat. Playing this game is a treasured family tradition. Next, it was my dad’s turn. “Uncle Shyam went to the market to buy some strawberries, salad, snakes, scissors, salt, sausages and…”, he says. “Wait”, my mom interrupts, “don’t distract the driver”. I roll my eyes and sigh. Parents always find a way to ruin the fun. As an 8th grader, I realize now what a baby I was being. I didn’t need attention! I argue back, screaming and kicking at the seat in front of me. My dad looks back at me, taking his eyes away from the road for only a second. My cry of anger turns into a warning, as I watch the car crash into a sign. Our heads bang into the seats in front of us. Suddenly everything goes silent. My breathing slows down as I regain conscious. I hear someone else screaming and this time it isn’t me. I glance over and see my cousin with tears rolling down his cheek staring at his hand. It’s contorted into an unusual shape, and it’s big and swollen. I feel myself choking as I try and tell everyone how sorry I am. The words are lodged in my throat and won’t come out. I close my eyes and cry until I don’t have any tears left. It’s all my fault. The blur of red and yellow lights flashing around my cousin, make my eyes burn. It’s as if everything around us is moving in fast forward, but we stay still. I look at my cousin. My eyes show the plea for forgiveness. The corners of his mouth twitch upward as he tries to smile, but his body stays paralyzed. The next morning my whole family squeezes back into the car again. We stay completely silent. I gaze out the window. The skies are an ominous gray color. Drop, drop, drop. I trace the raindrops down the window with my finger, wishing to get out of the death trap that was our car. I close my eyes. “Guys! my little brother exclaims. I feel my heart thump against my rib cage as my dad turns back to look at him. “Don’t distract the driver!” I scream nervously. The paranoia of having another car crash filled my mind. As I looked forward at the road in front of me, I see my brother roll his eyes and mumble, “Sisters always find a way to ruin the fun”. My mom looks at me in the side mirror, and in her big brown eyes, I see my reflection staring back at me with a look of nervousness.