Mirage 2006-2007

mirage ool h c S h g i H Stafford 7 0 2006-20

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Table of Contents Poetry 6 - The Sea - Hollyann Arnold 7 - Falling - Aaron Gresham 8 - Hurricane - Adam Murray 9 - The Knob - Billy Chambers 10 - I Wonder - Arianna Agnellini 11 - Rain - Arianna Agnellini 11 - Rain - Amber Humphries 15 - Until the End - Candi Sullivan 16 - Melancholy Autumn - E.H. Kindred 17 - Fall of the Guardian - E.H. Kindred 18 - The Dog with a Bat - Jared Pepin 24 - There’s a Burr in the House - Adam Murray 29 - In One Moment - Katie Yohman 33 - The Sun - Cate Smolinsky 36 - The Race - Jessica Elder 37 - Sitting Here in Silence - Rachel Wood 41 - The Ants - Hollyann Arnold 42 - What it Takes to Teach - Rachel Wood 47 - Waiting - Arianna Agnellini 52 - A Moonless Night - Kelcie Carr 56 - Ah Nature - Jacob Nezda

prose 4 - Why I write - Jacob Nezda 12 - Love Story - Claudia Lazo 20 - A Scary Place - Sarah Kunkler 22 - Tennis at the Crazy House - Brittany Bowler 26 - EndWorld - Jacob Nezda 30 - Dialogue - Rachel Wood 32 - Who Took My Eggo - Katie Yohman 34 - Yohan and His Flying Machine - Cate Smolinsky 38 - Melanie - Candie Sullivan 44 - The Voice in the Shadows - Kelcie Carr 48 - Heartbreaker - Candi Sullivan 53 - Built on a Lie - Sydney Cranford Art by Brittany Page 2

Stafford Senior High School 33 Stafford Indian Lane Stafford VA, 22405

Art and photography Cover Photos Left Top - Danielle Gail Left Bottom - Kaitlin Elder Right Top - Megan Waters Right Center - Sarah Paris Right Center-N. Gonzalez Right bottom - Sarah Paris ——— 2 - Brittany McBee 3 - Brittany McBee 4 - Kaitlin Elder 5 - Xiao Lin 6 - N. Gonzalez 6 - N. Gonzalez 7 - John Robertson 8 - Michael Bienz 9 - N. Gonzalez 10 - Ana Brown 11 - Kelcie Carr 12 - N. Gonzalez 13 - N. Gonzalez 14 - anonymous 15 - Sarah Paris 16 - Travis Jarrells 17 - Aaron Becker 18 - anonymous 19 - Emelia Sanchez 20 - Kaitlin Elder 21 - Kaitlin Elder 22 - Sam Husar

23 - Kaitlin Elder 24 - Emilia Sanchez 25 - Emilia Sanchez 26 - Grace Oxley 27 - Kaitlin Elder 28 - Grace Oxley 29 - Andrew Tonnacliff 30 - Sam Brown 31 - Ana Brown 32 - Bethany Powell 33 - N. Gonzalez 33 - Sarah Paris 35 - Petra Kablecova 36 - Jeff Gulick 37 - Andrew Tonacliff 38 - Sarah Paris 38 - Sarah Paris 40 - N. Gonzalez 41 - N. Gonzalez 43 - Susannah Phillips 45 - Elizabeth Proctor 46 - Kaitlin Elder 48 - Malik Hill 50 - Marie Williams 51 - Emelia Sanchez 54 - Michelle McConnell 55 - Sarah Paris 56 - N. Gonzalez 56 - N. Gonzalez 57 - Megan Waters

Mirage was produced using Microsoft Word and Microsoft Publisher.

Art by Brittany McBee Page 3

I

Jacob Nedza

I write because I can’t talk, I can’t see, and can’t hear. I can feel, but I can’t feel the feelings, so I put them on paper. The place I go to there is so much more flexible than where I actually go every day. A warm grass field is more interesting than the smelly bus; a mystical castle overshadows the stinking cafeteria any day of the week. None of the people there are annoying or stupid (unless I want them to be), and nothing is too silly or boring (unless I want it to be). Nothing is out of place or different unless that’s how it was meant to accidentally be. Everything I don’t see and hear and talk about out here can go right there, onto that page.

Once upon a time… far, far away… Or, Once among a place… not too far away… Who knows? What I write can be anything I want it to be, as nothing has to be along the same lines.

My right to write and my writing of rights is under my control: there’s no limit. Would I like to say ‘And the cloud of doom loomed overhead the meadow…’ or ‘the fluffy cloud of love and peace flew over the barren forest’? Whichever, it all goes. Do I have to make a phrase? naC I etirw sdrawkcab? Sure, there’s no rule to it. Simply for that I like to write.

You can see your reflection on the page if you look closely enough. Read words, imagine the scene. I know that’s me when I read my words. I’ll remember what I was thinking and doing and seeing right then as I put the thought into print. Maybe I’ll think of something to write as I read what I wrote. It’s just like a chain reaction. When I see or read something of my own, that often inspires me to make more of it. That’s the feeling that I write for, the inspirational one. It’s a great sensation when you know you’re about to write something amazing.

Undeniably, writing can be a bit painful at times. It makes me think a lot, sometimes about things I’d rather not like to. Some things I don’t want to remember, let alone put into a story. But that’s what happens when you want to come up with a great idea. You think of everything, good and bad, everything you want and don’t want to remember.

Kaitlin Elder [Pencil]

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Art by Melanie Roberts

Why

day

Nicholas Candela Art by Xiao Lin Page 5

Art by Kaitlin Elder

But that’s not necessarily bad in itself . Keeping those things locked away can be bad for the mind, while thinking about and coming to terms with them makes them bearable, and acceptable. When you accept something, you can move past it, and use it to make yourself all the wiser.

I don’t let those kinds of thoughts slow me down when I’m actually writing something I find pretty good. If anything, the writing helps me accept them. I might include a part of those feelings in the story, and because I can write about it, describe and define it, know what it meant, I can get past it, and it won’t be a problem anymore. It has been said that writing is a kind of therapy, and I agree.

If you write it right, you can solve some of your deeper problems without even noticing it. You’ll see, as I have.

I write because it’s what I do, as it gives me something to do with all these revolutionary ideas in my mind, although I might be the only one that sees them that way, for now. Until I write the next Great American Novel, farewell. Watch out for my works. You might be surprised what I could write one day.

Hollyann Arnold

The Sea A mix of salt and foam and blue Tumble above the ocean floor, Along the edge I walk with you.

As a lone seagull rides the breeze Our feet wade through the surf and sand.

I give your hand a subtle squeeze.

It seems we’ve found a distant land.

With waves a mix of foam and blue As on the edge I walk with you.

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Photos by N. Gonzalez

Falling Art by John Robertson

Aaron Gresham

What can you do, When you’ve fallen from grace?

When you’ve lost what you were, And there’s shame on your face.

Once you’ve strayed from your way, And there’s no turning back, You feel like there’s nothing To fill what you lack.

That feeling of falling, Will kill you inside.

The feeling you’re useless, That all hope has died.

Once ashes are ashes, And dust goes to dust, You feel too far gone And your heart starts to rust.

But you’d have to be foolish To give in to dismay.

To think there’s no way out To push the world away.

You feel there’s no way out, But I say that’s not true.

You still can escape, Find a life that’s brand new.

So just keep your eyes up, Keep looking for the light.

‘Cause if you’re not looking, It’s just out of sight.

No matter what’s happened, No matter what you’ve done, You’re heading somewhere better Don’t quit pressing forward.

Than where dark has won.

Don’t give yourself away.

‘Cause nothing is forever.

You can’t let the shadow All wounds heal some day.

Begin to rule life.

For once you give leeway, It swallows you in strife.

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HurriHow I long for a hurricane, How I long for wind and rain, A flood to wash this all away, A storm to end this lonely day.

Take us back to the start of year zero: No children, no men, no villains, no heroes.

Where oh where is my hurricane?

The foamy mist distorts my veins.

Crawl right back into the sea Where it all started is where I’ll be.

Away from the cities, towns, and people, Sleeping peacefully in my own steeple.

How I long for a hurricane, How I long for wind and rain, A flood to wash this all away A storm to end this lonely day.

Art by Michael Bienz

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Billy Chambers

The Knob

It sat there in darkness Mocking me Trying to get me to give in I won’t I don’t want to see what’s on the other side There was nothing No windows or anything Just it, the door knob to turn I won’t

Photo by Nina Gonzalez

I don’t want to see what’s on the other side Like a woman of questionable morals Wearing a revealing skirt Like a fisherman Baiting the hook Waiting for a bite

My hand stretched out The tension palpable Between my hand and the door knob I couldn’t take it

I won’t I won’t I don’t want to see what’s on the other side I don’t want to see what’s on the other side I walked over to it I didn’t want to, but I did It wanted me to turn it I could feel it

I touched it, the cold metal against my flesh The allure was gone, no longer a temptation Just a piece of cold metal

I won’t

It won’t turn It’s locked

I don’t want to see what’s on the other side

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I Wonder Arianna Agnellini

isses me. m e h if r e d I won e cares.

I wonder if h e spends h if r e d n o w I his days s there. wishing I wa nows that k e h if r e d n I wo is true. im h r fo l e fe I what ws I love him o n k e h e p o Ih truly do. y ll a e r I e s u a c

Photo by Ana Brown

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Rain Arianna Agnellini

Glistening rain upon the leaves The dewy drops, like tears.

Nature is full of pleasure and pain In the passing of the years.

When the world lets loose the rain, Sun’s rays no longer smile down.

As the clouds release their sorrows, In this sadness the world does drown. ...Until the coming of tomorrow.

Rain Amber Humphries The rain is falling Thunder and lightning strike Peace and calm after.

Photo by Kelcie Carr

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Claudia Lazo

They met in elementary school and instantly hated each other. As soon as they laid eyes on one another it was fire. Cam thought he was the most stupid boy in the world and Mark thought she was the most annoying girl in the world. They would bother and fight with each other just to make the other mad. The teacher thought it was cute how they were always bothering one another. “Those two will realize when they’re older that they will be together for the rest of their lives,” she thought as she smiled and went back to teaching the lesson.

All day, Mark would take stuff from Cam just to see how she would react. He secretly liked her but he didn’t want to tell her because he thought that she hated him.

He would keep on bothering her because he liked to look at her pretty head of brown hair. He liked the way she smiled when she was talking with her friends. He like the way she walked and he liked the way she thought about stuff.

Cam liked school that year, as she had lots of friends and everything was going right except for one thing: there was a boy in her 4th grade class whose name was Mark. He would keep on bothering her

and she was getting

so annoyed with him, but she

secretly liked the

attention that he was giving her and

she thought he was

really cute.

Photo by N. Gonzales Page 12

Art by Rebecca Lansford

Love Story

There was a big science project fair coming up and the teacher made them all write their names on little pieces of paper and put them in a little box. Then half of the class had to reach into the box and pick out one little piece of paper. When it was Mark’s turn to pick a piece, Cam found herself wishing that he would pick her little piece of paper. When he started opening the piece of paper she felt her heart pounding so hard in her chest that it sounded like everyone could hear it.

He finally opened up the piece of paper. When the teacher asked, “Well, who did you get?”

Mark looked up and had a little half smile on his face. “I got Cam.” Inside Cam was like “Yes!” They walked over to their section where they had to start the project., and as they started talking and soon realized that they had so much stuff in common.

They both loved grape and orange flavored candy but hated anything that had a taste of cherries. They both liked to sit down in the grass during the summer and just lie there and look at the clouds. They both enjoyed watching scary movies. There were so many other things that they liked, and after talking for day they decided that they would become best

the rest of the school

d e k i l winning 1 place for their exy tl ..” e Every day after r c . e n s would hang out o i e t h n s e around. Cam’s and “ t t a Mark’s mom e h t thought it was so The science fair came and went st

friends. and they ended up ploding volcano. school, they together and play

cute that their children had found new best friends.

Middle school years came and went, and those years made them even more inseparable. They would hang out every day possible.

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Photo by N. Gonzales

There was never a day when they would get tired of each other. Those years passed and high school came. High school was the place where their friendship started turning into an even deeper love for each other, as they realized that they couldn’t live without one another.

They both knew each other so well that they could finish each others’ sentences. They were inseparable.

And then on the day after their 12th grade graduation, Mark called Cam and asked her to go to dinner with him. She said okay and she got all ready and he came to pick her up later. He took her to a really fancy restaurant and the whole time they were there they were laughing and having a great time. While they were laughing Mark was looking at Cam’s face and he was thinking, “I love this girl and I want her to be with me for the rest of my life.”

Then he took the little blue velvet box out of his suit jacket and walked around the table to where Cam was sitting. He got down on his knees and said, “Cam, I love you and you know that,. Will you marry me?” Cam started getting teary eyed and she said, “Yes of course I will!”

The little children who hated each other when they first saw each other were now so in love and going to get married.

The teacher from 4th grade was right; they were going to be together for the rest of their lives.

“”They realized that they couldn’t live without one another.”

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Analagous Color Scheme - anonymous

Until the End… Candie Sullivan

Nothing makes her happier Than to dance beneath the stars, With him by her side On a night that will last forever.

“Together until the end,” They promised one another.

She wished this wonderful feeling Would never go away.

But the night was young And the sky was dark.

No one could have known What was to come.

It came so suddenly And took her by surprise.

Her once smiling partner Had no light shining in his eyes.

The car had come from nowhere, Seemed almost like a dream.

The wonderful feeling is over, Him again she’ll never see.

Together until the end, They promised one another.

But nothing brings him back, And the end came far too soon.

Photos by Sarah Paris Page 15

y l o ch

n a l e M

E.

ed r d in H. K

Create me a song of autumn, Of icy lakes so cold, Of sky glass pale and misty vale, Play me a song of old.

Flute me a song of fleeing geese, Winter following close behind, Of echoed cries arcing o’er grey skies, Fashion a song refined.

Craft me a song of sighing winds, Of bare melancholy stone, Of whispering trees and golden leaves, Sing me a song of home.

Art by Travis Jarrells

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Fall of the “And so he sings of fading light, Of rays so quickly tamed…

Of how the wicked hushed the skies Yet never saw them claimed…

He sings of darkness and of fear Of ancient dreams as yet unfurled Of soothing voices forced to sleep Vanquished by a wicked world…” (excerpted from the novel Searching Sayden

by E. H. Kindred)

Art by Aaron Becker [Pop Page 17

The Dog With a Bat Jared Pepin The sun was shining, Very bright out that day.

But we were inside, No intention to play.

I sat next to Sally, Remote in my hand.

And on Xbox we ventured, Across Halo land.

We needed no sunshine, To have some good fun, just pixilated landscapes, on which we could run.

So much fun we were having, With the sound cranked up high, That I wasn’t to notice, Something awry.

The door was locked firmly, And we didn’t worry.

Then there was a loud bang, And we heard something scurry,

Across the floor behind us, A creature was dashing, And in his big maw, A weapon for smashing.

Before us he stood, The Dog with a Bat, After breaking the door, At the entrance he sat.

Pausing the game, I arose with a jump, Before I could yell, The dog hit me…Thump!

I fell to the floor, I could hear Sally scream, And birds flew around me, As if in a dream.

And as he ran, The dog growled and said, “If you’re not outside playing, You’ll get smacked in the head.”

Pointillism – anonymous

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“But we hate the outside, We prefer it in here.

And we’ll never leave, To games we adhere!”

Sally yelled to the dog, But the dog didn’t hear, He was too busy, Running far and near.

Then he stopped at that thing, At the big television, And started to swing His bat with derision.

The TV it splintered, And pieces flew ‘round, And though we protested, The dog heard no sound.

He kept right on swinging, Though we tried to stop him, He batted us away, His expression so grim.

And after a minute, Me and Sally did tire, And the TV was trashed, To the very last wire.

“What have you done?

Now the games will not work!”

“Exactly my plan.”

Said the dog with a smirk.

Art by Emilia Sanchez [Shapes] He ran to the window, His bat held up high.

“Now you are free, You can now go outside.”

“But we want to play!”

Sally yelled with conviction.

But the dog stared her down, As he pondered her diction.

“So you want to play, In that fake world of yours, When the real world is out there, Just past the door?”

And as simple as that He ran to the street, And never again, Would that dog and I meet.

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And so there we sat, So tired and bored, And we pondered the words, That the dog said before.

And then we decided, The dog had been right, We had wasted our time, Inside without light.

Oh the sun it was shining, Very bright out that day.

So outside we leapt, All intentions to play.

I was drowning. Colors were all around me. Yellow, blue, green and red dots were whirling all around me.

A

I scrambled for air, any air I could get. It smelled bad.

It smelled like filth. I stepped on something wet; it was really gross. I wanted more than anything to get out of there. Other kids were there too, but they didn’t mind the filth

and

the horror.

Scar

A stinging came across my face! I had been kicked!

I’m only 3, why should I have to endure this?

Finally I escaped, and fell out of the pit. I fell on a spongy surface. It was grimy, but soft. I was so confused.

After walking on the spongy surface for a bit of time, I saw a large hole. The hole was some sort of dark cave. I

y

was scared, but I decided to go in it anyway. I climbed up in the hole and crawled deep into the cave.

After a while I saw a large clear dome. I approached the dome cautiously. After I knew it was safe, I looked out of it. I saw a blurred world, a scary world. People were every-

Sarah Kunkler

where and I was up very high. I saw the pit of colors, but I was so afraid of it that I backed away.

I continued further into the cave, it was a long cave.

The cave suddenly changed colors. I was now in a long pink cave with windows. I saw another kid, he was crawling fast.

He was laughing while he passed me, I was scared.

I wanted to get out of the cave but I couldn’t. I sat curled up in a ball in the pink cave and cried. After a while I realized that crying wouldn’t help me get out of the cave.

So I crawled on. The cave changed from pink to yellow to red to green. There were many steps and windows in the cave, but no openings. I came to a dead end. I could not crawl any more.

Kaitlin Elder [Charcoal]

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Beside me there was a line of kids. I hoped that they were waiting to get out of the cave too. I got in the line and waited.

Finally my turn came, but there was no opening to the outside. There was only a big dark drop in the cave, a scary drop that I did not want to go into.

A girl behind me wanted to go into the drop. I had no idea why, but she kept yelling at me to go. I told her that I didn’t want to, but she wouldn’t listen.

Finally she just pushed me down the drop. I screamed as I slid down the steep cave. Then it was all over. I flew out of the cave back onto the spongy surface.

I wondered where my mom was. She brought me here.

Where was she? I really wanted her to take me away.

“Wesley!”

I heard my mom’s voice.

“Wesley, where are you?”

I ran toward the voice until I found her. I was so glad to see her. She picked me up and took me to a table. It smelled good near the table. She gave me a little box of food and I started to eat it.

“So, Wes, did you have fun in the play place?”

I looked up at her, but didn’t say anything.

“Well, you looked like you had a lot of fun! We should come back to McDonald’s .”

I wondered why any kid would want to return to this McDonald’s place, but it looked like a lot of the kids loved it.

I soon learned that it didn’t matter what I wanted. I returned to McDonald’s many times after that.

I acted like I liked it, just to please my mom.

She seemed to love it, almost too much.

Kaitlin Elder [Charcoal] Page 21

“You’re going down!”

“Down to Georgetown!”

The match began. Winston has the ball.

He throws it into the air for his skullshattering serve, makes contact and…

Out of bounds!

“Blast!” Winston curses his fault.

“What makes an incompetent fool such as yourself believe you can make this serve. I laugh at you! Ha ha ha ha!” teases Yohan. Winston shakes it off.

“Sticks and stones, Yohan! Sticks Brittany Bowler and stones!”

Such remarks will not affect his game.

Winston sets up for his second serve. This time, he would not falter. He tosses the ball delicately into the air then smashes it onto the opposite side of the court with the ferociousness of ten lions. Yohan was unable to respond.

“Lucky shot…” he mumbled.

The smirk was wiped from his face. Winston’s confidence was restored.

“But honestly,” Yohan continued. “If you think you’re going to win this match solely on the fact that you just made that serve, you my friend, are mentally deranged.”

Tennis at the Crazy House

Art by Sam Husar Page 22

Art by Kaitlin El-

“Oh we’ll see about that.” Winston grasped another yellow ball from his pocket. He would show that two-timing rat who wore the pants in this match.

And that he did, for every spine-shattering serve sent over the net was not returned by the swaggering Yohan. Each fault was followed by more ridiculous excuses and insignificant insults. Even when Winston would gently tap the ball and practically place it in front of him, Yohan still failed to volley.

Finally when Winston’s buttons could be pushed no more, he screamed a scream that would deafen the ears of innocent children and broke his racquet over his knee into two pieces.

He cursed a chuckling Yohan who was merely standing on his side of the court, giggling.

“Winston?” questioned a familiar female voice from behind him. Abigail stood with a look of puzzlement on her face. “What ever is the matter?”

“Leave us to our business woman!” the infuriated Winston yells.

“Us?” “ Are you blind you silly girl!? Can you not see this man in front of you?”

“Oh dear. It’s time to take your medicine, Winston.”

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There’s A Burr in the House!

Adam Murray

Once upon a time, deep in the wood Lived a crazy ol’ hermit whose name was Thurghood.

He’d spend all morning long talking just to himself, And all afternoon whittling wood into a shelf.

And then every evening he’d hunt himself dinner But he’d never succeed; every week he got thinner.

One early morning he awoke with a fright, Couldn’t gather his courage, try as he might.

Then he saw the big creature all covered in fur.

“Oh my goodness!” he cried, “In my house there’s a burr!”

The burr stood on hind legs and looked very scary, But it suddenly bowed, and introduced itself as Jerry.

“I came for a reason; I’m glad we could meet.

Unfortunately Thurghood, it is you I must eat.”

“Eat?!” exclaimed Thurghood, “I’m too thin to devour!

Not to mention I’ve heard human flesh is quite sour!”

Then he screamed and he cried, he kicked and he yelled, As none of his dignity did he choose to upheld.

Then the burr roared so loudly and then cried “No more!

You’re even more annoying than global warming and Al Gore!

I’ll promise not to hurt you if you do me one thing: You must play and must beat me in a game of pong ping!”

“But a game of pong ping I don’t know how to play!”

“Don’t know how to play?” said the burr.

“What are you, hey?!”

Art by Emelia

Page 24

Thurghood leaped out of bed and he gave a great shout, “I shall beat you in pong ping; in my mind there’s no doubt!”

But before they did play, they watched The Hand That Rocks The Cradle.

Then at noon, both determined, they met at the table.

With paddle in one hand and craddle in the other, They stared each other down, one glare for another.

Then the battle began, endless hours of pong ping.

When burr started winning, he started to sing.

Thurghood ignored it, but try as he might, He couldn’t stand crappy lyrics by Hawthorne Heights: “And I can’t make it on my own, because my heart is in Ohio!”

The burr sang and sang; it seemed there was no end.

Thurghood wondered if he’d ever have his hearing again.

“Stop!” the hermit yelled “Can’t you see? Can’t you see?

Hawthorne Heights sucks, so please stop torturing me!

I’d rather let you eat me than hear another word, From that crappy emo band, their lyrics are so upsurd!”

“Hawthorne Heights rules!” said the burr quite loudly, Displaying his Hawthorne Heights shirt very proudly.

Suddenly the hermit threw his crapple at the burr.

“Hey!” it yelled, surprised “That’s not very furr!”

But Thurghood had distracted the burr long enough To score the winning point and he said with a scuff, “Now you can’t eat me, have fun starving and such!”

The burr replied angrily “I hate you so much!”

Art by Emelia

And then the burr left and was never seen again, And Thurghood, who couldn’t hunt, starved to death in his den.

Page 25

EndWorld

Swirling images assaulted his waking eyes, begging to become solid.

Every part of him ached, and he could

Jacob Nedza

feel a deep wound in his left leg. His right arm ceased to function at all.

Nothing wanted to move or be alive, but he was. Kailex had survived.

He sat up with the greatest agony he’d ever feel, and saw the nameless soldier he’d rescued, unconscious but waking next to him. Dim light was all around, and he couldn’t discern where they were or what had gotten them here. Nothing seemed to be right; where was his squad? His regiment? Even his weapon was missing.

His companion was muttering in a language unknown to him, probably that of his home world.

The words were light and sing-song. He had probably come from a civil and unindustrialized world; he hadn’t acquired the heavy tone of factory workers and hab citizens around the galaxy.

Kailex came from a toxic world where the only humanity left alive lived in stuffy and overpopulated dome-habitats, surviving sparsely on carefully cultivated crops. It was dangerous to leave the dome unless you owned a survival suit or a vehicle, both of which became rare commodities.

The unconscious soldier awoke and blinked a few times, saying something else in his own language before noticing Kailex existed. The words were soothing to hear, but Kailex knew it could be anything from a curse to a prayer. The foreigner then spoke in a rusty Low Gothic, the common language between worlds. “Greetings, sergeant.”

“Hey soldier. How ya’ feeling?” Kailex returned in his own practiced Low Gothic, although his tone was abolished because of his injuries. The pain in his leg had not faltered.

“Just fine, fine. By what do they call you?” he asked, clearly not used to the standardized tongue.

“Kailex. You?” “I am Aleus.”

“Good, good.”

There was an unsteady silence as they both observed the darkness around them. Then Kailex asked, “What’s your regiment?”

“Takerian 23rd,” he said with what pride he could channel in the unfamiliar tongue. Kailex almost laughed. His home dome is said to have been built on the remains of a nation known as Takera. Must be a coincidence.

Art by Grace Oxley Page 26

“Not anymore, I don’t think, after all this…” he waved a hand around in a circle to emphasize the battle, which they hadn’t heard a whisper of since waking. Aleus took a grim face and looked away.

The thought of his lost comrades spiked into both of them.

“That might be so.”

Another awkward silence ensued. Kailex laid back, too tired to sit up. Aleus stood and paced around the dimly lit area, tapping his knuckles against what were apparently steels walls. Kailex couldn’t even see that far, and his condition was fading. He must have taken some mortal wound that was slowly finishing him off, but he decided not to waste his last moments silently.

“Hey, Aleus… what’s your world like?”

Aleus stopped. “It’s peaceful; most are untouched and unknowing of the ways of war. There are no hives, or cities, or corruption…” he pronounced the last word with distaste. “Only forests and woods and fields. It’s truly…” he searched his limited vocabulary for a befitting word. “Beautiful.”

Kailex took in the thought. “Sounds like a damn fine place.”

“And where do you come from, Kailex?” Aleus returned the question. Kailex looked away.

“A desolate wasteland. Toxic everywhere but the dome cities, so much that we can’t even have windows to look out,” was his bitter response. “We hope to take a trophy world after this war, maybe this one if we’re lucky.” The thought pleased him, that he was personally ensuring his people’s future in a better place.

Aleus frowned. “How did this become so?” he asked curiously.

Kailex gathered his memories for a moment, the stories of old and legends. “Somewhere around five hundred years ago, my world was a paradise, so the Elders and historians tell. Much like your own world. Forests and scattered communities as far as you can imagine. We didn’t have hivecities, and we made everything we needed within our homes. Times were good.” He paused. “Then, Chaos came. They jumped out of the warp and made planetfall before our militia could react. Even if they’d been at the landing sites, they couldn’t have done a thing. The invasion was huge, said to be in the millions of Cultists. We had no other choice… the remaining leaders ordered a chemical bombardment of the surface. We were ordered to flee into the agri-domes, but only so many were fast enough.

Millions were killed, Chaos and loyal citizen alike. Our cultures would be lost and divided for hundreds of years. Never again would we know the lush world we’d grown up on. Never again would life be the same.”

Art by Kaitlin Elder Page 27

Ending his story, Kailex breathed deeply and let it sink in. Aleus looked troubled.

“That is… sad,” he replied. “I have not even seen the plains of my world, I was born into the regiment. We have been traveling the stars for hundreds of years, and we have not heard from our home world for too long.”

Kailex didn’t care much for Aleus’s predicament in light of his own suffering, and another dead silence ensued between them.

Kailex had nearly fallen asleep and Aleus had almost paced himself out when a brilliant light blasted through the dark, lighting up their place of inhabitance. Blinded temporarily, Kailex soon realized that rusty walls surrounded him on all sides, a worn door locked shut across from him. His weapon was visible in a far corner.

A static-accompanied voice soon yelled into the room in a corrupt language he would never want to understand. It then spoke in Low Gothic. “Intruders! Invaders! Scum of the Imperium! You will be killed by traitors’ hands!”

They had been captured by the enemy. And now they were to be executed.

Kailex, though his body was limp, stood and began to move toward his weapon across the room. “Aleus! Get a weapon!” Aleus picked up a lead pipe relatively close to himself. The sliding door in the room began slowly opening, black smoke pouring out. Kailex just barely got to his rifle, picking it up and turning to face oncoming enemy. Aleus was at his side.

A tense second passed, and Kailex thought of one last thing to do before his death.

“What is the name of your world, Aleus?” Aleus stumbled.

“Kristof.” He answered in the sing-song language. Kailex froze, suddenly realizing the truth. “Kristof… that is my world.”

“What? Ho-” Aleus started, then suddenly saw the truth. Tears instantly welled in his eyes. “How… can that be? That we are one in the same? That my world… has become yours?”

The door opposite them fully opened, spilling black fumes in. Kailex had no intention of fully answering in this lifetime. “Fate, my friend. Let us live this day! For Kristof!” Even with his limp, he managed to lead the charge into the unknown darkness, followed by Aleus.

Art by Grace Oxley Page 28

One second you’re perfectly happy The both of you Smiling, having a wonderful time.

e n O n I

Then in one moment you’re alone Just you Stuck in pouring rain By your self No one to help you up No one to grab hold of.

You work hard Trying to find a single ray of sunshine that’ll help get you back on your feet To your life.

And you find it Life is getting better The sunshine is here The rain is leaving But the memories are there.

You miss it You miss him You start remembering And find out the rain is always there Right around the corner.

Katie

And you remember being perfectly Happy with him And how in one moment It was gone.

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Photo by Andrew Tonnacliff

Rachel Wood

Dialogue

“I told you already. I love you. Now do you really have to ask me that all that time? I mean…why would I still be with you if I didn’t love you?” said John.

I couldn’t think of what to say. “I know that you love me, John. It’s just that sometimes I like to be

told it; especially when I don’t say it first.”

“Ugh,” he sighed, “I just don’t get the point of saying it all the time if we both know how the other one feels.”

“Well sometimes I feel like you’re ashamed of me. For example, that one time that we were at the school play. I was sitting next to you and leaning on you and you didn’t even put your arm around me. I just don’t get it.”

He sighed again.

“I just don’t know, John,” I mumbled. “It seems that every time that I tell you I love you, you just act like you’re forced to say it back. I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“Anna!” he screamed. “Of course I have to say it back. Tell me honestly. What would you do if you had just told me that you loved me, and I just sat there and didn’t say anything; or if I said ‘okay’; or if I said, ‘I’m sorry, but I really don’t love you’.”

I sat there.

I almost started crying.

Art by Sam Husar

Page 30

“I have to say it back. No matter what I feel or what I think, I always have to say what you want me to. I’m sick of it, Anna,” he said.

“I’m…I’m sorry.” I said. “I never meant to pressure you into saying anything that you didn’t want to.”

“It doesn’t matter. You did it anyways,” he grunted. He looked to the side. I tried to sit next to him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said. “I can’t sit here and tell you that I love you if I don’t.”

“Fine.” I started to get mad. “If all you’re ever going to do is whine to me, then we are over. I can’t be with some guy that doesn’t even love me!”

“Wow,” he seemed surprised. “You can’t love someone in two months. Love is something that doesn’t just happen. It doesn’t just come out of nowhere. Love at first sight is stupid, Anna. It’s not real. You can’t just start loving someone after such a short period of time.”

“Well,” I said with my chin up. “I think you’re wrong. If you would please go away, it would make me very happy.”

“You just want to throw this away for nothing?” he asked.

“Get out,” I said.

“Fine.” He kissed me on the cheek and walked out of my room.

Photo by Ana Brown Page 31

Who took my Eggo?

Katie It was one of those mornings where there was no rush or hurry. It was beautiful outside, sunny and clear, and all I wanted was my Eggo waffle. Of course my sister, Julie, had to ruin that morning. There was only one waffle and she wanted it too.

“What are you doing??” Julie demanded, eyeing me putting the waffle into the toaster oven.

“What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cooking breakfast duh!?” I replied, setting the timer.

“No you're not!” Julie said getting angry.

“And why not?”

“Because that's mine! I called it last night. So you can't have it!”

Now I was starting to get mad at her. Who died and made her queen? “Whatever! You snooze, you lose. Get over it! Mom will buy you more at the store.” That's what I thought would be the end of this conversation. Boy, was I wrong!

“MOM!” screamed Julie.

“Shut up! Gosh!” I yelled back at her. “It's just a stupid waffle, for Pete's sake!” But would she stop? No! Why would she? All she was doing was hopping around yelling for mom. Until she finally came in.

“What's going on” asked mom.

“Katie cooked my waffle! Now she won’t let me have it and its mine cause I called it!”

“No she didn't! Anyway she can have something else for breakfast. It’s not like waffles are the only food we have in the house.” Mom looked at me and then looked at Julie.

“This is stupid. I'm going back to bed. Julie have something else for breakfast and leave Katie alone.” She walked back into her room and closed the door, most likely going back to sleep.

“You're so stupid Katie!” growled my sister.

“Ok!?” I replied, I was happy! I got to eat my waffle. *DING* the timer went off. The waffle was ready. I took it out of the oven and put it on a plate. I turned around for the syrup, turned back around and saw that not only had Julie gone but so had my waffle!

“JULIE! LEGGO MY EGGO!”

Art by Bethany Powell Page 32

The sun The Sun the sun is so much fun.

It makes me want to play and run.

Phoeo by Nina Gonzalez

I hope the sun comes out today Or else my mom won’t let me play.

The grass is green the trees are high I want my kite to touch the sky.

The sun the sun is so much fun It makes me want to play and run.

Photo by Sarah Paris

Cate Smolinsky

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n Joha e th d n ne A i h c a M g n Flyi

y

Cate

nsk i l o Sm

Johan And the achine Flying M

Years ago on this very day a man decided to go to the moon. The man’s name was Johan, and he decided to build a giant flying machine. The Machine’s interior was made out of the skins of baby foxes and squirrels. What a comfy inside!

The outside of the machine was made out of the bones of traitorous fiends!

Johan lived in a small town in Slovakia named Smolinsk. Everyone in Smolinsk thought Johan was crazy! And this he was.

As Johan built his flying machine the whole town listened. They actually didn’t have a choice because his construction was so loud. The town’s people heard the KA-BAM of the hammer and the THUD of the falling trees. They could also hear the clinking of nails against metal, and the trembling laugh Johan let out when he was pleased with himself.

Pretty soon the Smolinskian people became frustrated with all of the racket.

The noise from Johan’s flying machine was just so loud! The people began to wonder if Johan would ever finish his machine. He had been building for months but the noise was loud as ever! People started to complain.

“BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH” was all Johan heard, but nothing would break his spirit. So Johan built and he built and he built and he built.

KLUNK, KLUNK, BANG! Every day Johan woke up to the COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO of the rooster and didn’t go to bed until midnight.

The lack of sleep eventually caught up to Johan. “AHHH GRAHH!” is what the town’s people heard the day Johan fell asleep while sawing wood. Let’s just say Johan is a lefty now, but not by choice. The now one-armed Johan had to find a new way to get his flying machine finished.

That’s about the time he decided to bring in the elephants.

Page 34

Art by Petra Kablecova If the people of Smolinsk thought Johan’s building was loud before, well it was nothing compared to the noise these elephants made!

BRRRUUUNGZQUNG! Oh! Boy! They were loud!

Well despite all the noise, the elephants got the work done in half the time Johan could have even with both arms.

So the townspeople were happy when a week later the word came that the machine was finished and the noise would now stop.

Johan decided that May 28th was the best day for take off, so the whole town came to see him soar all the way to the moon.

Johan climbed up the ladder and hopped into his flying machine. He waved goodbye out the window then settled into his baby fox fur chair. Johan then pulled the lever and began lifting off the ground.

The townspeople couldn’t believe it. Would the machine really work?

Then, out of nowhere, BOOOMM!! The machine exploded, and so did Johan.

May 28th is now a national holiday in Slovakia.

Page 35

The Race Jessica Elder My feet tread softly on the ground.

As I tear through the summer night.

You only hear the rhythmic sound Of falling steps from such a height.

The moist, warm breeze picks up in speed.

I push myself, not wanting defeat.

My strides they quicken, soon in the lead.

I bask in victory, and it tastes sweet.

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Photo by Jeff Gulick

Sitting Here in Silence

by Rachel wood I sit here in silence Just watching the sky.

The water is flowing, The birds flying by.

I look at the ground And think of the time I lay with you there And you were all mine.

I look at the tree And remember that day We kissed on that branch There was nothing to say.

Photo by Andrew To-

I glance at the lake And all I can see Are the times that we swam, And you were with me.

I sit here in silence Just thinking of how We can lie here no more Because you’re gone now.

Photo by Sarah Paris

Page 37

Mela-

Candie Sullivan

Photo by Sarah Paris “Hello?”

I said, “Hello…?” I repeated as I walked into the dark room, my voice echoing off of the empty walls. I don’t understand… She told me to meet her here; where the heck is she? You see, the other day my very good friend, Melanie, and I were talking on the phone and she seemed to be upset or mad. I wasn’t sure if it was with me or something else so I asked her about it.

“Is something bothering you, Mel?” I asked sensitively.

“Oh, it’s nothing…” She said, seeming like she was holding something back.

“Alright the—” “Well…” She interrupted. “There is one thing, but I don’t want to talk about it over the phone Jason…” I hated it when she used my full name. Usually she called me Jay. “Will you meet me at the warehouse by the docks outside of town? I’d like it; it has been a while since we’ve seen each other.” She continued.

“Sure. But why such an odd place? Why not meet up at a coffee house or something?”

Page 38

I asked curiously.

“No! Um, I just want to go there, okay?” She seemed to be acting a bit strange, but I didn’t bother her about it. We set our meeting for Friday, said our goodbyes and goodnights, and got off the phone.

The day after our rather bizarre conversation she didn’t answer her phone for the entire day. I figured she just needed some time alone; after all, she had seemed extremely distressed.

So, I left her alone and stopped calling. She never called back.

When the day came for us to get together, I drove through this unfamiliar territory; down some dirt and worn down roads, and I parked a few feet away from the entrance to the warehouse. It seemed completely empty. I walked to the door and slowly pushed it open. Not only did it seem empty, but it was empty. There was no one anywhere to be seen.

I decided that she was either running late or lost, so I sat on a wooden crate near the big steel door and waited. I waited for about a half an hour before she came walking in with her head down; she still seemed awfully upset.

“Melanie? Come on; tell me what’s wro—” I stopped walking towards her.

“Stop Jason…” She interrupted. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready, okay?”

“Alright, alright…” I said, with slight frustration in my voice.

She sat down for about another ten minutes before she began talking again.

“Jason…” she said, breaking the eerie silence.

“Yes?” “Do you love me?”

I just sat there, astounded… Was she really asking me this question? This woman has been my best friend since grade school, and she’s asking me if I love her?

“What do you mean, Mel?” I asked, still trying to gather my thoughts.

“You know what I mean Jay. And yes, ‘like that.’” She said, with some attitude.

I didn’t know what to say. Again, I just sat there and let the silence become awkward all over again.

“Humph, never mind. Just forget it; forget I said anything. I’m sorry I brought you here.”

She said. She looked as if she were about to cry. “I’m sorry.” She said under her breath as she started heading towards the door.

“No, Mel, wait.” I finally spoke up. “Please come sit…” I begged, pointing my arms towards the empty crate across form mine. And she sat. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I want to know Jason… Why else would I ask?” She was angry now.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t get mad at me; I’m just a little surprised.” I said while going to sit down. I hadn’t ever seen her this anxious before; it made me uncomfortable. By now she was quietly crying, and I felt absolutely terrible.

I looked at her, “Of course I love you, Mel…” I finally answered.

“But as just best friends… Right?” She asked with an agitated tone.

“I don’t know. Here, why don’t you tell me how you feel about me?” I was

“Do you love me?”

Page 39

particularly curious now.

“Seriously…?”

“Yes.” “Okay… Well… Ever since middle school I’ve had this kind of school-girl crush on you, I guess. And when you would tell me about your crushes or other girlfriends, it would upset me… That’s when I was positive that I liked you as more than just a friend. I never wanted to make any obvious signs because I didn’t want to ruin our amazing friendship.

But lately I just haven’t been able to hold it in. It’s been bothering me far too much…”

She was dead serious.

All I could think to say was, “Wow.” I was at a loss for words. What are you supposed to say when your best friend confesses their love for you? I think she could tell I was quite confused.

“Okay… Well if ‘wow’ is all you can say then I think I got my answer.” She said as she stood up again and started heading towards the door. I stood up, too. And as if it were of no control of my own, I grabbed her by her upper arm, turned her back towards me, and kissed her right on the lips. It didn’t even feel awkward or uncomfortable; it actually felt kind of right, like I was supposed to be kissing this girl who I had only thought of as my best friend for so many years. I do love her.

The kiss lasted for only a few seconds, but as we both pulled away and looked up at one another I told her…

“I love you, Mel. I honestly do.”

She smiled the biggest smile I think I’ve ever seen come across her face and tightly wrapped her arms around my neck in the warmest embrace I’ve felt in the longest time. I felt at home; I was so glad that she had me come here, to this exhausted warehouse almost in the middle of nowhere, because here I made the most glorious decision of my entire life.

, u o y “I love Mel.’”

Photo by N. Gonzalez

Page 40

s t n A e h T I watched the ants Romp in the grass, A line of red through green.

And in their mouths They carried food To families unseen.

I thought how nice They’d found a treat They worked so hard I see.

So I decided I would help Since I’d brought food with me.

I turned to grab my bag of chips Then noticed it felt light.

Then I looked down And watched an ant Drag the last chip out of sight.

Hollyann Arnold

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The kids didn’t like me.

They didn’t obey.

They won’t ever listen, No matter what I say.

It looked pretty real And fit me just right.

It wasn’t too baggy, And wasn’t too tight.

I tried doing coloring And playing stupid games, But no one in the circle Would tell me their name.

Then the next morning, Right when I arose, I put on the costume On top of my clothes.

I took them outside To see if they’d run, But nothing I tried Seemed to be fun.

a T t at i

h c a e T o t s e k

Wh

I knew it was time To try something new, So I sat at my desk And thought what to do.

It had to be different.

It had to be cool; Something that would make The kids like school.

Then it just hit me: I’d come into class Dressed up as a lion, And teach them like that.

That night I went home And went through my stuff.

I found some old fabric And sewed on the fluff.

I went to school early And sat at my desk, Awaiting the children, Hoping for the best.

The very first child To walk into class Was Susie Leanne, Who turned with a gasp!

She looked at me scared And then stepped away.

I hadn’t a clue Just what I should say.

The second I moved And stood from my chair, I heard Susie scream, “Now you stay right there!”

I tried not to move, With hope she’d calm down.

Instead she was crying And sank to the ground.

Then all of a sudden The kids trampled in.

They all looked so scared

Page 42

…All except Ben. He came right up to me And poked my fake fat, And said, “Miss Decree, Why are you dressed like that?”

I told them to listen And made them all sit.

And then I began To nicely explain it.

I told all the kids That they made me sad When they wouldn’t listen, And I would get mad.

They nodded their heads And I made them write letters That stated they all Would try to do better.

The next couple days Things seemed to be fine, But after a while They got out of line.

The day after that, I came right back in Acting like a lion, All dressed up again.

And they would all listen To each thing I’d say, And from that day forth I dressed up every day.

Art by Susannah Phillips

Page 43

e c i o V e

Th

I went into a blues club one night and I heard this voice. It was a magical voice unlike any that I had ever heard before. The singer seemed to call to me, her loneliness touching deep down into my soul. She

in e i c l e K

sang of a love lost when the object of her affection left her for another. She sang of how she put on an act every day, to try to resemble a normal functioning person, not one whose heart had been broken

for so long. I couldn’t see her face because the spotlight was behind her, but her words and her voice called to me.

It was then that I realized why I had gone into the club that night. It wasn’t because my coworker had set me up with her boyfriend’s best friend. I was the one who chose to meet him here after all. It wasn’t because I was being nice, just to turn him down later. I had come in to this club, decided to meet him in this club where my ex-husband and I had met because it was where my ex -husband and I had met. I knew a lot of the songs to be sung tonight were going to be slow, and most of those slow songs would be about a love that had been lost.

I had chosen to come to this club tonight because I was still in love with the bastard. He said that he loved me, while he had cheated on me with his secretary. But somehow, even after that, I loved the man. I still loved the back-stabbing man. I thought that when the divorce was finalized, I was free of him, since we’d had no children together. But I had been wrong. I was still in love with that cheating liar, and this soulful singer whose face was still unseen had shown me the truth threw her own pain. It was then that I had made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t be alone, and I wouldn’t do that to anybody else. I would meet the man like I said I would, but then politely tell me that I couldn’t continue our date, because I was still in love with someone else. Surely he’d

Page 44

appreciate my honesty, right?

As I sat there, at the table right next to the stage, I became lost in my own thoughts.

What if he didn’t like that I was in love with someone else? Who cares if he didn’t like it? Why did I care? I had never even met the guy. I had become so engrossed with what was on my mind that I never even heard him walk up to me, until he placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Fiona Roy?” he asked, concern and a little embarrassment coloring his voice.

“Yes, I’m Fi. Mike I presume?” I said, flushing a little bit at being caught wandering around in my own thoughts. Maybe I could get over my ex-husband. It wasn’t like this guy wasn’t cute. After all he looked like he at least worked out more then once a month. He did have a nice smile, after all. “So, how are you?” I asked politely.

“Nervous. How about you?” he answered honestly.

“It’s always good to find an honest man. I’m fine, thank you,” I replied smiling.

“I’m sorry; I just had a long day. And I hate to bring this up, but would it bother you if I leave my beeper on tonight? I’m on call, and I need to be reachable at all times.” He said sheepishly.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. My father was a police officer,” I said.

“What a small world! I am too,” he said smiling. “But Kelly said that you were a criminal defense lawyer?” We’d hit it off right away. Before I knew it , I Page 45

Art by Elizabeth Proctor

was laughing and smiling, until later on that night I realized that for the first time since the divorce I wasn’t comparing him to my ex-husband and trying to catch all of his faults. I didn’t find myself comparing myself to my ex’s secretary either. Maybe that’s the real reason I decided to go to that club that night. It wasn’t because I was still in love with him. I just had to let his memory go, once and for all. I gave Mike my number that night and we set up another date. I really like him, but I thought that I would stop by this old club one more time, just to see if that woman was singing again.

To my dismay she wasn’t. It was another woman instead who was singing a raunchy, seductive song about nailing the guy she wants. She also had the spotlight on her this time, and was dressed in a long white gown. Her voice was good enough, but it wasn’t the voice I’d heard that night. It didn’t make you want to shield her from her own heart or make everything all right. Her voice seemed to come just from her vocal cords or other parts of her anatomy, not from her soul the way the other singer’s voice had. Maybe I’ll hear it again sometime, but I know that I’ll never forget it.

Art by Kaitlin Elder Page 46

Waiting Waitin Waiting Name

Name

I couldn't see what you were doing at the time, But on some level I always knew You weren't mine, not here to stay, Only here for the briefest moment.

You would kiss me And caress my cheek You would stay with me through the night, But with the sun’s first rays You were gone...

No note, no promise of return, Just the hope that you would need me And come back to fill the need.

I would wait until I could wait no more And when all hope seemed to be gone I would hear the knock at my door, That telltale knock announcing your return.

I cursed that knock, I praised that knock.

It was long awaited And yet, despised.

I knew what it meant.

It meant once more I would be bent to your will.

Arianna Agnellini

Name

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Heart- break -er (hahrt)

(breyk)

(uh)

Candi Sullivan Disappointment, heartbreak, sorrow, and depression; no one likes to have those feelings, especially not Anna. A very emotional and sensitive girl, when she lost who she thought was the love of her life, she was completely devastated.

Anna and Ben had a wonderful relationship. They were madly in love, and no matter where they were, you would always see them together. Just watching them when they would look into each other’s eyes was enough to tell someone how in love they truly were. The two of them even made promises to each other that they would be together forever and never hurt the other.

However, on the day that Anna and Ben set up their three-year anniversary date, Ben didn’t show up. “Did he really just stand me up?” Anna questioned as she sat at the table all dressed up and alone. “No… He wouldn’t do that. Maybe he’s just late,” she thought and stayed seated to wait until he showed up, which he never did.

Anna waited for over an hour before she decided to drive home and try giving him a call. When she arrived at her house and went up to her room, she called Ben and asked him about what had just happened.

“Hello?” He said sounding like he did not expect the call.

“Hi there.” Anna replied, clearly agitated.

“Oh, hey honey. What’s up?” He asked nonchalantly.

“Um. What do you think is up? Where were you tonight?”

“I was home. Why? Where was I supposed to be?”

There was just silence as Anna sat on the other line rapidly getting more and more upset that he had forgotten about her and their important date.

“You still there, Anna?” He asked, not worried at all whatsoever.

Art by Malik Hill Page 48

Right after he asked her that, she hung up the phone. She was crying now and she did not want to hear his voice. It hurt her that he could forget something so important and special in their relationship. He didn’t even bother to call her back to try and find out why she was upset or anything, which is usually what he would do, so Anna was confused. She didn’t understand the sudden change in Ben’s personality. Sitting in her room, pondering everything that had just happened, Anna decided to go over to Ben’s house to attempt to calmly talk to him about what he had done. But when she arrived she was surprised at what she found.

“Hmm, did his mom get a new car?” She thought to herself as she walked up to his front porch. “I’ve never seen that car here before.” When she reached the front door she noticed that there was music playing inside or something that sounded like a movie of some sort. She knocked and patiently waited for Ben to answer. After sitting there for about ten minutes, she decided that he might not be home, but she did just call his house and he did answer. Where else would he be? She knocked again, even louder this time.

“Hello!” She yelled angrily as she stood out there in the cold waiting for a reply.

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, don’t break the door in now,” Ben said as he hurriedly pulled the door open, standing there in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt. “My mom and sister are sleeping. You gotta be quiet.”

“Yeah, sure.” Anna said, extremely irritated now.

“What’s wrong Anna? You look really upset. And why are you all dressed up?”

“Oh, nothing. Apparently nothing should be wrong,” she replied very sarcastically.

“You didn’t just completely stand me up on our three-year date! And ob-

viously you don’t even care!” She yelled, getting more and more upset.

“Wow. I’m so sorry honey. I can’t believe that I forgot that. I’m really, really sorry. You have no idea how bad I feel,” he said, seeming honestly apologetic, holding his hands on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I guess it’ll be ok. You have a lot to make up to me though,” Anna said as she smiled for the first time in hours. Ben smiled too. “Oh, and by the way, when did your mom get a new car?” Ben looked confused.

“Oh, that car? Um, well…” He replied as he shifted his weight from one foot to

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the other, looking at the car through the open front doorway. “She got it the other day.”

“That’s cool…” she said with slight disbelief in her voice. “Well can I come in, or do you just want me to head home?” She asked.

“Oh, yeah, come on in. Just sit right here,” he said as he pulled her in and sat her on the couch in the living room. “I just need to go upstairs for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay… Well, what if someone comes downstairs?” She called to him as he walked up the stairs. He didn’t hear her. So, she just sat there on the couch, all alone yet again. “Ben? Honey? I don’t want to just sit down here by myself… Why can’t I come upstairs?” She called up the stairwell hoping not to wake anyone.

Then she heard a loud thump come from the second story like something or someone just hit the ground extremely hard. Thinking Ben was the only one up there and that he might have fallen, she dashed upstairs to check on him. When she reached his room, she saw something horrible. She just stood in the doorway glaring at him kissing this strange girl who was in his room.

“Anna? What are you doing?” Ben said as he sat there on his bed by that girl, quickly dropping his arms so as not to look like he was holding her.

“No, how about I ask YOU that question…” Anna said, still glaring with her arms crossed in front of her. He sat there, silent, looking at the floor. “Ok, well, fine, I’ll answer it…”

“You’re sitting there cheating on me! That’s what you’re doing! When I’m sitting right downstairs, too!” She screamed angrily.

“Anna, shhh, everybody’s still asleep.” Ben said, not even slightly worried that he was just caught.

“Calm down…”

“Calm down? Calm down?! You can’t be serious!” Anna yelled and began to walk away. Then, halfway down the hall, she slowly turned around and walked back to the room and said in an extremely cold voice, “Oh, and whoever you are over there,” she said, pointing at the other girl, “you can have him...”

Leaving the conversation and scene at that, she turned around, walked downstairs, got in her car, and drove home crying harder than she ever had before.

Painting by Marie Williams Page 50

Later that same week, Ben stopped by Anna’s house to try and maybe patch things up.

He claimed that he had ended the excursion with the “other girl,” whose name was Alyssa, but Anna didn’t believe him. “Anna, please believe me. Alyssa and I don’t even talk anymore. I’m really—” Anna interrupted him. “Oh what… You’re sorry? Is that what you’re going to say?

Because honestly, Ben, that doesn’t mean a thing to me right now. Go take that sorry and shove it up—” “OK!” Ben yelled, now seeming very upset. “You don’t even need to finish that sentence… I get it Anna,” he said as she sat on the couch quietly crying and looking away from him. “I am sorry though. I’m sorry that I screwed up so much and lost the love of my life…”

“Ha! Really? You’re actually going to try and sweet talk me now? You can forget that, because it’s over. Everything we ever had… Over.” She was serious and cold, as if she had no emotion.

“Ok… That’s fine. I understand completely… Well, I’ll just see you around then,” he said as he walked out her front door.

She didn’t speak to him any more after that day. They would bump into each other every once in a while, but neither of them would ever say a word. Things were just awkward after that. Anna did learn one very important lesson through Ben though. She learned that she did not need him to survive, like she had thought. If he was going to treat her like that then she definitely didn’t need him, because, after all, she deserved better.

Painting by Emelia Sanchez

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A Moonless On a moonless night, A sailor takes flight To save the love of his life.

He rides and he rides Toward the gray skies Where the sun will not shine.

He approaches a dock.

With many on watch, a girl being dragged By her thick, curling locks.

Kelcie Carr

To lie and to wait, while the ship casts off, Nothing will give him away, not a cough, For the love of his life will not live if he does.

So he lies and he waits, simply because Her love is more precious than life.

He abandons his horse Close to the source Of her screams.

Sneaking aboard, Biding his time, Revenge for another man’s crime.

He climbs and he climbs, Up the ladder of rope With a prayer and a hope, Hiding beneath the ship’s slope.

Photography by Stephanie Qunitero Page 52

on a Lie - Built Built on a Lie - Built on a Lie - Built on a Lie - Built on a Lie -- Built

There were only two things that Tom couldn’t stand: a liar and a thief. He didn’t care what you looked like or where you came from; if your integrity was shot, then so were you. He had grown old subtly, been married only once, and raised two children. He was practical and average, but that was the way he liked things.

Laura was Tom’s wife. She had a warm smile and a kind demeanor. Laura had been with Tom since they were 20 years old. He never liked to talk about his childhood or teenage years, but Laura wasn’t concerned with that. He made time for her in the present, and she was always sure she would be in the future. Through their 30 years of marriage, two children, and countless memories, Laura had learned to live with the mystery that was her husband’s early life.

Until September 4th of that year, the couple lived a fairly low-key life. They were happy, filling up their days with visits from grandchildren and cooking for their family. They loved to cook; it was what they were doing the night of September 4 th when the police burst through their front door and handcuffed Tom. Laura screamed and backed up against the counter top, out of the way of the flailing limbs and pointed guns. The terror that she felt was apparent as the police rushed past her toward her husband. Tom saw them coming before they even entered the house. He calmly put down the knife he had been using to chop vegetables and placed his hands behind his back. The cops tackled him to the ground, and through gritted teeth, said the words Tom hoped he’d never hear. “Tom Walton, you are under arrest for the murder of Brenda Harper.”

From the floor, with his hands wrenched up behind his back, Tom could hear Laura gasp. In the flurry of him being dragged to his feet and pushed out the door, he could hear her. “There must be some mistake! Tom didn’t do this! I’ve never even heard of a Brenda Harper!” she yelled at an officer. The officer’s response was faint, and Tom couldn’t hear it as he was escorted outside and placed into the squad car.

The holding cell was cold and damp from a leak in the sink’s pipes. Tom hung

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his head and crossed his hands over the back of his neck. He knew he deserved to be there. What had happened so long ago left a debt, one that needed to be paid. The memories began rushing back: the night of the prom, the rejection, the anger, the alcohol. “Tom, you have a visitor.” The guard’s voice interrupted his trip down memory lane.

Timidly, Laura approached the bars. Tom rushed up to her and grabbed her hands, caressing them in his own. “Hi honey,” he mumbled. She looked away, unable to hold his gaze. She searched for the words, tried to remember exactly what she had practiced saying, but nothing came.

“You didn’t fight back.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you fight back, Tom?!”

“Because I deserve to be here.”

It was too much. Laura backed away, one hand on her stomach, as if she had been punched. The tears began flowing down her face,

Art by Michelle McConnell

“I suppose I have some explaining to do,” Tom continued.

and her words were hard to decipher through the sobs.

“So you did it?! You killed this…Brenda Harper?!”

“Honey, please listen to me, I –“ “No. I don’t want to hear it. I can’t stand to look at you. You’re exactly what you hate; a liar and a thief. You stole the life of an innocent person, and then lied about it for over 30 years! Look at you, Tom! You’re an old man!

You never said anything, not one word! Not to me, not to your children, not to the police or Brenda’s family! Think of her family, Tom! What if your little girl had been murdered and you never got closure?!”

“I know this, Laura! I’ve hated myself every day since that night! This is my chance to offer closure, my chance to make things right. I’m a terrible, hypocritical person, and now I’ll pay for it!”

Laura just glared at him. She turned on the soles of her feet and marched out of the police station. Tom dragged his feet back to the hard bench and sat down heavily. A couple of silent minutes went by as he sat completely still;, hating himself and thinking of Brenda. The silence was broken by the cop watching him. “Tom, you’re going to have to fill out a statement of what happened that night.”

Tom looked up and saw the cop standing on the other side of the bars, clipboard in hand. He got up and shuffled toward him. He took the clipboard silently, and went back to the bench. He set the pen to the paper and

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began reliving the terrible events of October 12, 1987.

“It was the night of Prom. The dance was not all it was cracked up to be, so some friends and I left early.

We went by the liquor store, where we paid a bum to go in and buy us alcohol. Brenda Harper was my date that night. She was nervous about drinking; being raised in the church practically.

“At first I wasn’t going to force her to drink, but once I had a few shots in my system, I began trying to convince her to take sips. She agreed reluctantly, but didn’t take much. She sat off to the side watching the rest of us drink. A few drinks later, I believe I was full-out drunk.

“I remember Brenda looked so pretty that night, and I had wanted to try dating her for a while. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I went to asked her to go farther. I should have known she wouldn’t say yes, especially when I was in the state I was in. Hearing her resounding ‘No’ followed by an explanation of how I was nothing but a drunk hurt me bad.

“I was angry, and began hitting her in the face and chest, yelling at her about rejecting me. The details of what happened next are blurry, but the next thing I remember I was grabbing my pocket knife out of the glove compartment of the truck and stabbing Brenda with it. I must have stabbed her 5 or 6 times before I realized what I was doing. By this time, she wasn’t breathing, and my friends were yelling at me in panic.

“Thinking as quickly as I could, I threw Brenda’s body into the cab of my truck and drove to a bridge a county over, where I tied rocks to her body and threw it over the side. The police questioned me later, after they found her body, but I had my friends provide air-tight alibis, and had my truck destroyed to prevent any further evidence from pointing to me. It was the worst night of my life and the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

Tom stopped there, noticing the tears rolling freely down his face.

All these years, all the heartbreak, all the pain, had finally caught up with him. Tom Walton sat in his cell awaiting his trial, feeling the guilt and remembering Brenda.

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Photo by Sarah Paris

Ah, Nature Jacob Nezda

Ah, nature‌ A fine entity.

Always has it provided Something for us to see.

When it’s warm in the day And cold in the night, No other being can play Or give to us flight.

Nothing compares Quite up to her beauty, Or to that flare We see in the feuding.

Long have I watched This slowly changing place, Waiting for the time, Looking for that embrace That only nature could grace.

Photos by Nina Gonzalez

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Photo by Megan Waters

mirage School h g i H d Staffor 07 2006-20

Editors and Staff: Editor-in-Chief and Graphics Wizard Nina Gonzalez Editor - Kelcie Carr Editor - Katie Yohman Proof-reader - Teresa Storke Advisor-Publisher-PrinterProof-reader-Correctioneer James Andrews Undying Gratitude To: Nina Gonzalez who managed to fit many hours of wonderful graphics and font work into her very busy summer.

Nina’s Mom - for patiently taking Nina to school and back and patiently waiting.

Sue Gill - for the printer, the binder, the ink, creative solutions, and much encouragement!

Thanks much!!!

Special Thanks To: All who contributed to the magazine, and for those whose work was also excellent, but wouldn’t fit into our magazine due to length considerations.

Our Policy: Mirage is Stafford High School’s magazine of literature and art. Most of the writing was produced in our Creative Writing class, while other writings and most of the art and photos were submitted by other Stafford High School students. Selections are based on the quality of the work, the need for variety, and length.

This magazine provides an opportunity for students to be published, and for their friends and their families to enjoy the creative writing, art, and photography of our students.

The Mirage editorial staff reserves the right to edit all submissions as necessary. We also reserve the right not to print material that invades an individual’s right to privacy, or material that is obscene or libelous. Authors and artists retain copyright of printed submissions, but grant Mirage the right to use selected submissions as deemed by the editorial staff to be most appropriate for the magazine as well as for promotional purposes.

Opinions expressed in the magazine are not necessarily the views of the advisors, school administrators, or the school board, but are reflective of the interests, concerns, and creative thoughts of typical high-school students, and so are very valuable for their insight into the minds of young people, even if they may not necessarily match the preferences of every reader.

Thanks for your patience if all of the works are not your “cup of tea.” Concerns and suggestions for next year’s production will be welcomed by the advisor.

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