Volume 08 Issue 2 by The Echo

The Echo

III V e lum

Spring Issue

The Echo

words “The Echo,” I was sitting The very first time I heard the stock as a freshman, with a journal in the Steinbrenner cafeteria subdly blin r yea the entirety of the full of cringey poems. I spent was (I ed ept acc n’t was it ing why mitting bad poetry, and wonder be to ed erv des t tha ter wri d year-ol obviously a well-educated 14 in the magazine…). an t the random annoying freshm Who would have thought tha lica pub g azin am editor of such an girl would one day be the cotion? e learned that The Echo is not Over the past four years, I hav reading and writing, it’s about or just about poems and stories ple, t-knit and eclectic group of peo family. The Echo staff is a tigh t hou wit be ld wou know where I and I can honestly say I don’t them. o staff was the most supportive Nobody ever told me The Ech se meet. Nobody ever told me the group of people I would ever ody Nob h. wit ose to take on life would be the friends that I cho part of high school I think I’ll the be ld ever told me this wou a literary magazine. miss most. I was just told it was I have been surrounded by During my time in The Echo, ted by those with strong work por like-minded people, and sup t me They were all people who kep ethic and unique personalities. tlin, Kai or, edit comy cifically thank grounded. I would like to spe s ggle stru t des har the of e ugh som because she has helped me thro er. eth Echo that brought us tog I have ever faced, and it was The e The Echo in the hands of leav to It is my absolute privilege

Jordyn Dees and Cassi dy Hale, who will tak e over as the co-edito chief for the 2019-20 rs-in20 school year. I know they have the capacity take The Echo and all to its endeavors to the ne xt level, and I know I trust them to do it jus can tice. With this magazine sp ecifically, we tried som ething very different than our normal style, and I am so excited ab out the final product. We started with our us ual Cover Contest, an d the cover we selected was created by our ve ry own Mitchell Mille r. It is an intense zine-s collage that directly infl tyle uenced our entire de sign for the inside of magazine. Our layou the t team has been slavin g away for months pla and sampling and ma nning king big decisions ab out the spreads in the azine that would comp ma gliment the cover, and I could not be more pro of the things they cam ud e up with. In this issue, you will find work sampled fro m all departments of school. Everyone wh the o submitted to the ma gazine shares a passion writing, and we greatl for y appreciate your subm issions (also submit mo pls). With that said, I re am honored to showcas e the hard work of the entire staff of The Echo in every title, page nu mber, and even all the typso in what will be my final issue of The Echo. I should leave you all a piecce of advice: it is always a good idea to call a phone number you found in a magazin e.

Co-Editor in Chief Anna Moye

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A Letter From s r o t i d E e h t

Co-Editor in Chief Anna Moye

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The Ech o| 5

A Letter From s r o t i d E e h t

Staff

-in-Chief

Co-Editors rt Kaitlin Burkha e Anna Moy

Poetry Edi tor

Marlee Wittne r

Prose Editor

Club Coordinators

Renee Fleet Matt “Oz” Lao Michael Pemberton

Events

Lexa Mosher

Submissions Manager

Brooke Alewel

WEBSITE

Cassidy Hal e Jack Leist

Team

ris

Veronica Da Silva Jordyn Dees Sanika Kende

Ads Team

Noah Alewel Samantha Sanchez

THE GIRL WHO LISTENED TO THEM

SURRENDER

AMIDST THE CORALS

AN ISLAND OF FISH AND LACE

SUDDENLY

THE TIGHTEST COIL

I WANT TO BREAK FREE

FAR APART

BLAIR

Lauren Hlister

Marlee Wittner Renee Fleet

Social Media

Mitchell Miller

Adviso

Vona John Eric

COVER

BELLUM REGIUM COMMITTAMUS

Sanika Kende

Molly Pefley Gianna “Sco oby” DeM alte

Layout Editors

Mitchell Miller

Jack Leist

Rachel Capote

Art Editor

THERE’S SOMETHING IN MY EYE

Marlee Wittner

Events Coordinator

Sadie Testa-Secca

Table Of Contents

Jordyn Dees

Jillian Semmel Rachel Capote

Samantha Sanchez

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The Echo

Staff

-in-Chief

Co-Editors rt Kaitlin Burkha e Anna Moy

Poetry Edi tor

Marlee Wittne r

Prose Editor

Club Coordinators

Renee Fleet Matt “Oz” Lao Michael Pemberton

Events

Lexa Mosher

Submissions Manager

Brooke Alewel

WEBSITE

Cassidy Hal e Jack Leist

Team

ris

Veronica Da Silva Jordyn Dees Sanika Kende

Ads Team

Noah Alewel Samantha Sanchez

THE GIRL WHO LISTENED TO THEM

SURRENDER

AMIDST THE CORALS

AN ISLAND OF FISH AND LACE

SUDDENLY

THE TIGHTEST COIL

I WANT TO BREAK FREE

FAR APART

BLAIR

Lauren Hlister

Marlee Wittner Renee Fleet

Social Media

Mitchell Miller

Adviso

Vona John Eric

COVER

BELLUM REGIUM COMMITTAMUS

Sanika Kende

Molly Pefley Gianna “Sco oby” DeM alte

Layout Editors

Mitchell Miller

Jack Leist

Rachel Capote

Art Editor

THERE’S SOMETHING IN MY EYE

Marlee Wittner

Events Coordinator

Sadie Testa-Secca

Table Of Contents

Jordyn Dees

Jillian Semmel Rachel Capote

Samantha Sanchez

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The Ech o| 7

The Echo

WHEN THE CLOUDS CLEAR

PICTURE IN A CITY

REDBLUE

LET’S START A WAR

Cassidy Hale Mitchell Miller

HEADING WEST Mike Currier

SPACE INVADERS Colton Brown

ENTITLED Brooke Alewel

IN FLIGHT Jillian Semmel

THE FESTIVAL OF THE SPIRITS Jordyn Dees

MONSTERS Kaitlin Burkhart

38 39 40 42 44 53

THE UGLY CREATURE WHO MADE 55 A VILLAGE BEAUTIFUL Alexandra Gerges

PRISMA

Pearl Reberkenny

CAUGHT SOMEWHERE BETWEEN 64

Jordyn Dees

THE WHIMPERS Matt “Oz” Lao

LIGHTHOUSE Cassidy Hale

LIGHTS Drishti More

STANDARDIZED TEST Renee Fleet

66 68 70 71

SILVERHILL DRIVE

Andrea Burgess A MELODY TO YOU IS A MELODY TO ME Andrea Burgess

Andrea Burgess

CHICKEN NUGGETS AND BROCCOLI 74

THE EYES OF THE FUTURE 77 Michael Wayne Pemberton

BIRD’S EYE VIEW Christina Hale

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Rana Scherer

Kaitlin Burkhart

WHEN THE CLOUDS CLEAR

PICTURE IN A CITY

REDBLUE

LET’S START A WAR

Cassidy Hale Mitchell Miller

HEADING WEST Mike Currier

SPACE INVADERS Colton Brown

ENTITLED Brooke Alewel

IN FLIGHT Jillian Semmel

THE FESTIVAL OF THE SPIRITS Jordyn Dees

MONSTERS Kaitlin Burkhart

38 39 40 42 44 53

THE UGLY CREATURE WHO MADE 55 A VILLAGE BEAUTIFUL Alexandra Gerges

PRISMA

Pearl Reberkenny

CAUGHT SOMEWHERE BETWEEN 64

Jordyn Dees

THE WHIMPERS Matt “Oz” Lao

LIGHTHOUSE Cassidy Hale

LIGHTS Drishti More

STANDARDIZED TEST Renee Fleet

66 68 70 71

SILVERHILL DRIVE

Andrea Burgess A MELODY TO YOU IS A MELODY TO ME Andrea Burgess

Andrea Burgess

CHICKEN NUGGETS AND BROCCOLI 74

THE EYES OF THE FUTURE 77 Michael Wayne Pemberton

BIRD’S EYE VIEW Christina Hale

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Rana Scherer

Kaitlin Burkhart

bellum

regium

Commietr tam

list Lauren H

the king said to bow to him, to kneel before his great crown, so you barked a laugh and grinned at him, trymen. teeth stained with the blood of his coun lled, quel truly r neve is dom king d a conquere you say to him, thinking of all your lost brethen. you can take my sword, raze my name, and burn my throne, but I am still a queen, an able warrior, down. and it was a mistake to try to cut me n - the king is dead, long live the quee

THE GIRL WHO LISTENED TO THEM Marlee Wittner

s, oceans onto her eyelid She paints sunsets and of their beauty. er sliv re me a sp gra can So that just maybe she irable. des re mo the re painted, Because they say the mo cheeks wer petals appear on her With vibrant colors, flo y bloom So that one day, she ma somed. only sell if she’s well-blos ’ll she say y the se cau Be

go! And all the weeds must ces; s, and most intimate pla From her face, arms, leg ng pain She endures the plucki t she is good and clean tha t ub do no is re the So m her merit. ings hanging detract fro Because they say any str her The pollen is dusted off sh sweeps bru ttle bri red nd With a hu dy bo In her hair and skin and ifact art ed lish po a So that she is museum est ud pro the in y pla To dis hed. be worth more untarnis Because they say she’ll

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ollar smile She pastes on a million-d rts hu it t For so long tha that she shines So that everyone will see until she feels it. it e fak to Because they say

bellum

regium

Commietr tam

list Lauren H

THE GIRL WHO LISTENED TO THEM Marlee Wittner

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ollar smile She pastes on a million-d rts hu it t For so long tha that she shines So that everyone will see until she feels it. it e fak to Because they say

She listens to them. . Their whispers travel through pillows and sheets skull, her in echo sms critici Their m Their commands bounce off the walls of her craniu s. shake she loudly Booming so She feels shattered and empty, powerless. e. Because that’s what their whispers led her to believ She screams against her pillow. Drowning out their stream of murmurs Only for a moment. er. And in that moment, there is an overwhelming wond ng? listeni ed stopp just she if n happe would What

What power could she have If she just stopped listening?

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e camera, eezes for th fr y d o b er H silent still and so Holding so orcelain s as fragile p That she feel ung things. yo y in like sh Because they mposition htens the co own canvas And she brig inch of her ch ea g in iz n Scruti paints illion filter Adding a m s know So the world terpiece gh. tist and mas ar an is nt isn’t enou e Sh on her e tale ll te ey th Because er museum the feed of h to in t ai tr for her ts the por ple will pay The she pos ely that peo at er p es d g ks Hopin oard clic ps and keyb success. In double ta ermines her et d is th y sa ey th Because closes, seum door hen the mu w t, h ig n e end of th And at the er; nature ov ts ar she st a wonder of roving she is p y sl es el ir T nturn, ain sible to dow again and ag ile is impos sm t ei rf te n u until her co ding habit. . to an unyiel never falter It has turned nvinced her she could co Because they

What power could she have If she just stopped listening?

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Surrender

Jack Leist

You seek refuge from the sounds of war In the quiet of the cave, Footsteps ring in damp air; weightArrhythmic, as you stumble under his o. A drunken duet to death’s temp Dust swirls serenely Caught on your tongue Your arms give out You both fall to the floor. Rocks carve indents in your knees The jolt is worse for himBlood bubbles on his lips his eyes His smile is weak, but there’s love in e. ston cool on Crimson stains Your tears drip like hot wax Burning on skin; His life flickers beneath your hands ks Your trembling fingers slide on his chee sigh light a th, brea d stille A You sink back against the wall Close your eyes. Drop the hand from your bleeding side. ce There is nothing like the quiet acceptan th. brea last your for ing In wait

Sanika Kende

orals c e h t Amidst

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Surrender

Jack Leist

Sanika Kende

orals c e h t Amidst

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fish f o and sl I n A

acneer l nd a rlee Witt Ma

fish f o and sl I n A

acneer l nd a rlee Witt Ma

suddenly

et Renee Fle

A humongous star begins its ascent over the horizon. Its light pours out from its core, blessing the earth with its tender kiss while disposing of the luminous darkness that had prevented the day’s progression. Heat’s glorious wings embrace the thick, cold atmosphere and share its warmth with the world. Streaks of fluffy white intertwine, turning the sky into a canvas. Fragile leaves dance in the breeze and rest under the generous shade that the skyscrapers of bark and branches provide. It seems that perfection, as high as its standards have become, had finally been achieved.

the clouds, which vie w the scen pure disgu e from abo st; ve with a lo the leaves ok of , which wo rk together obtrusive with the w monstrosi ind to top ty but end falling sho ple the up rt, and the la ndscape th at mother her own b nature craft are hands. ed herself with Unfortunat ely for tho se they are sh ielded from who are locked up in side by the glo the natura omy mod l realm ern indust rial cave. And they have no d esire to es cape.

Suddenly

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Dark, humid silence engulfs the terrain and devours every remnant of beauty. Towering blocks of concrete slice through the outside world and latch together with an iron grip, guarding people within their walls from what lingers on the other side including the heat, whose rays are halted at the wall’s edge;

suddenly

et Renee Fle

Suddenly

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beige carpet, pressed My legs were crossed on the scratchy, Cartoons danced across ion. firmly into an embroidered sofa cush I whined and cried, n. visio teary ugh thro the TV screen, blurry sharp-toothed thing she twisting away from my mother and that ripped through my hair. and ed ripp called a brush as it ripped and ed this to be over. I wanted this to be over, so badly, I want of pins being pushed ng feeli I wasn’t sure what was worse: the ing, each coil yanked ripp hair my of d soun into my scalp, or the until it turned into a fuzzy cloud of hair. apology and admonish“Sit still.” My mother’s words were an to stop squirming, to be ment all in the same breath. I wanted y pull brought another ever but good for her, make this go faster, . tears of wave fresh a lump to my throat and relaxer, cold against my I closed my eyes at the first drop of the ming, and it tickled my nose. scalp. The scent was strong, overwhel Ms. Tanya painted my curls as Excitement bubbled in my stomach ghten my strands until strai ld wou that mix in white sludge, the it in ponytails now! I put d my hair brushed my shoulders. I coul my blonde friends. like it style it, ugh could run my fingers thro straight-haired glory. I’d look Boys would notice me now, in all my ined my hair growing all the imag like the girls in the magazines. I ld be. wou it tiful beau how , way down my back my eyes popped open. My ing, ream dayd of tes minu few a r Afte a, asked if it was time to head was itchy. I called out to Ms. Tany r just smiled, checked her wash the relaxer out yet. My hairdresse hing my fists against clenc ed, watch and shook her head. I wait

d longer and e time stretche Th h. tc ra I barely sc h ked this time, ratch scratc rn. When I as that need to sc er to the bu ov to e n m ga ed be y scalp Tanya wheel s. M d an hot. longer, and m e o ic to cold, then e out of my vo water was ice e n and ai th kept the wobbl d ag an es , ey ed y et squeal just closed m I e. or y m ym sinks. The fauc in an n t pooling ant to complai ain, excitemen dr e th But I didn’t w n w do be washed let the relaxer more. ce on stomach e locker room l the girls in th al d an le st ready quite hi the w , but I wasn’t My coach blew ring morning sp the mirror. t to ho in e th ed to ar t in sink and st ed gg scrambled ou lo -c ir ors wet and ha front of a p clothing, flo m da d an ne yet. I stood in lori im season. om stunk of ch et. Such was sw fe of ds The locker ro re ir, tucknd soft straight ha pack the slap of hu thered up my slippery from ck ga ba d y an m p to ca swim I reached in I pulled out a ad felt tic. Satisfied, he as y pl M e . th st h fir at e ne er th ing it neatly be snapping it ov t a second cap, t I ignored it. bu r, ai h uc and pulled ou m want to sit in d with too le fil on t wet. I didn’t llo ge t ba n’ ca ir ha tight, a nd me. y M t. reeching behi , I though blow-dryer sc It can’t get wet t, ed for gh ck ni he to -c n le ai ip esser ag time, and I tr is th r ng lle front of my dr ri pe sh and scam ri ew outside, my backpack up The whistle bl g in pp zi re ft out befo any strands le e. outsid e in the car nt a lot of tim ea m ol ho sc e minutes from Living forty-fiv didn’t mind. t for ds dreaded, bu bu , tI n that some ki inutes with my mom tio m es e qu fiv e yTh rt ol?” t myself, fo ou ab lk “How was scho ta to d r-old who love an eleven-yea r swim gh. ou en ite qu , we started ou s spring term might not be it’ e nc si d an day “I had gym to ” it. un

es Jordyn De

COIL

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THE T

IGHTEST

es Jordyn De

COIL

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THE T

IGHTEST

“I’m going to go natural.” I rolled over on my sister’s carpet and stared up at her. Her head was bent over her desk as she finished up homework for the night. “I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube videos on it,” Davis continued. “I think it’s the right thing for my hair.” “Go natural?” I asked, more to be polite than anything else. In my head I was wondering how I could get Keelan Rollins, fellow sixth-grader, to ask me out. Davis spun around in her swiveling chair to look down at me. “Like with my hair. Cut off all the relaxed parts and stop relaxing it all together. Go natural.” Now, I sat up, all thoughts of Keelan vanishing. Cut it off? But her hair was even longer than mine! It seemed so soft, never broke off like mine did. “Why would you do that?” “Because,” she started, as if it were obvious, “that-” she pointed at the knotted mass atop my head “- is not what our hair is supposed to do. It’s damaging, it’s exhausting, and I’m tired of it.” Before she turned back to her homework, she side-eyed me. “You should consider doing it to. I can show you some of the videos I’ve been watching.” I made a face and left the room. In front of my own mirror, I stared at myself. At the straight hair meant to turn me into a model, the type I saw on TV. It was fine. Just a little tangled. I

The hair at my ki tchen, just abov e the nape of m shorter and thin y neck, was getti ner, day by day ng it seemed. Even on my stomach when I fell aslee to give the back p of my head som with it tangled an e relief, I woke up yway. It was fra gile, and brittle, struggling to ho the thin strands ld on to roots m eant for coarse and curly, but I didn’t

care. I only gritted my teeth and combed harder, picking out the knots and sweeping the debris from the bathroom tile when I was finished.

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“Your swimsuit from last year sti ll fit you?” My m the rear-view m om glanced in irror. I nodded. “Yeah. Oh, and, Coach Sherett had us do to compare our times from the laps in the pool beginning of th should try out fo e year, and she sa r the swim team id I this year. Then Helmer said we today in math, M were gonna focu r. s on term, and less wo solving equatio ns more this rd problems, wh ich I hated anyw “Hold on, the sw ay-” im team?” At a red light, my m look at me wher om turned back e I was strapped to in the back seat to sit up front ye . I wasn’t tall en t, a fact I frequen ough tly complained interested? Hoc about. “You’re no key doesn’t start t again until next time.” term. You have the I didn’t look up from the homew ork in my lap. “I worry about blow don’t want to -drying and curli ng my hair so m It’ll start breaki any times a week ng off.” . My mom pursed her lips but didn ’t seem to have back to explaini a ng how to find reply, so I went an unknown an d the value of x. The next time I went into the ha ir salon for a to en out my new uch-up to straigh growth, the haird tresser set the tim utes too long. I er for fifteen min left the salon wi th the stench of and scabs on m chemicals in my y scalp. I winced nose for the next mon brush landed on th whenever my that patch of bu rnt skin and hid partings and po it with calculated nytails. But at least I look ed pretty.

care. I only gritted my teeth and combed harder, picking out the knots and sweeping the debris from the bathroom tile when I was finished.

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reached for my brush and began the process all over again. “It’s a time to reinvent yourself,” my best friend told me. Across from the lunch table, she bit into her apple. “Not everyone gets to move halfway around the world and become a new person.” I stared down at my own food, picking at it in disinterest. Tampa, Florida. As elusive as it was inevitable. It wouldn’t be long until I hopped on a plane and kissed Johannesburg goodbye. “Look at the bright side,” she continued. My friends were doing everything to cheer me up, to no avail. “You could become a whole new person, and no one would know.” Of its own volition, my hand raised, skating over the tight ponytail I’d forced my hair into this morning, running down to the fragile ends of each strand. I hacked at my hair the next morning, frustrated tears welling in my eyes. When I didn’t brush it, it looked awful. But when I did, it just kept breaking apart in my fingers, falling limp to the counter. It barely grew, just kept coming apart in my fingers. I didn’t want to be pretty if it meant this. I didn’t want it.

my exposed neck, scanned my empty forehead and open cheeks. A shaky hand reached up to touch the short-cut hair along my head, fingers brushing over the tightest coils I’d ever seen. I pushed my shoulders back, sat up straighter, turned my head this way and that. The curls covered my scalp, winding up and out of my head, happy and healthy. It had been years since I’d seen my hair shine. It felt like something alive and electric and I couldn’t look away from my reflection. New town, new school, new people. And now, new hair. An afro. I’d never had one of those, never been raised to think they were all that nice. What if someone thought I was a boy? What if I didn’t know what to do with it? Despite this, I smiled. Because damn. I looked pretty. And maybe for the first time, I felt it, too.

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I sat in a swiveling chair, facing the mirror. All my baby teeth were out, and I was almost a foot taller than the first time. I watched the scissors, loosely gripped in a heavy hand, weave between my strands. My eyes followed the hair that floated to the floor, until there was a sea of black around my ankles and I worried I would drown in it. “Okay, Jordyn. All done.” I didn’t want to look, but I also didn’t want to be rude, so I sucked in my bottom lip and stared in the mirror. My eyes followed the curve of

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Jillian

I Want

ree f k a e r b to

Semmel

Jillian

I Want

ree f k a e r b to

Semmel

FAR Apart

Rachel Capote

Eventually it subsides, and at last, the orb showcases his beams of serenity onto his closest companion, the blue marble. Lining the black backdrop lie thousands of tiny specs that twinkle as if they’re greeting the orb. These specs are hundreds of light years apart from one another, Each their own galaxy within other galaxies, But when combined they say hello to the little orb.

The orb is too far from his other friends, but At times a flash of light followed by an icy breeze Will shoot past him, just for an instant. It shouts farewell as it disappears into the black silence. A few years pass by, And as the orb sits quietly He catches a glimpse of a burst of light and twinkle in the distance From his friends so far apart.

He hides from his distant enemy, a vicious ball of fire, with piercing shards of light that stretch across the universe. The enemy mocks the orb for a few hours, Taunting him for not being a source of life for mankind.

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An orb wanders between dark clouds, For thousands of years, He’s been isolated, but tolerant.

FAR Apart

Rachel Capote

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An orb wanders between dark clouds, For thousands of years, He’s been isolated, but tolerant.

ining wers l of S o fl t a e igh nth ith br outlin Sama ink w s the faint ith the p d e t w a n as pai ould see w be a chest ody was so c b to oom w The r g. All Lola appeared iling. Her leum floor e t n o i c a l n i i h e l e h w c nt the ied to nd the bed a that were o erature of hen she tr es, just n i w t p w a t rs m ne flowe old te er legs tha elf to her k same from the c h s f r o e h m g she numb g the botto only brin until as the n ld room w e huggi p, she cou s i h t nd . u b. Th stand pse again. o peer arou g gold kno her to view a t l n l fi i w d o l o e l l c m l u a g to a glea ontin n. A t ould a Lola c door with al light w t flung ope ri . da nim r spotte ing the mi at the doo ric in hand ightly olde ge g b h s t n a i an f a l h ” c , o a only was look e door, a d want ou e o, kid As sh eared at th lly come t ured you’d n much y p a m g p a n fi a d I e fi o ure ckle. “ you’v side s er “I see with a chu playin’ out p clos d ai ere to ste s sure of d e man s es. You w l dirty.” t r e sta l e wa th of clo r clothes a e man as h before. Sh r head she u h t o h m i y t h h a g e rememt got throu e ooked er me Lola l e had nev s running would hav lined his e at Sh cle h . h r r t S i e c . g s h g e e to h th f anythin ial featur om smilin ver t i w t it, bu too sure o rtable fac t come fr sent a shi a t fo wasn’t he uncom wrinkles th en eyes tha the affect e t r d ch h g t a g n m bere . The slig i pierc e didn’t templ ch and his green that u a m , ine too her sp down

tionate color of her eyes. Lola tried to mutter out words but she didn’t know what to say. She woke up in a room she had never seen before, with a man she had never met before. “Come on here, I’ll help you get cleaned up,” he said. The man laid a dress upon the bed in the corner of the room and walked towards Lola, an open palm ready to engulf hers. He lifted her up, Lola’s balance shifting from foot to foot. A lightheadedness took over her body. He took her hand and walked her through the hallway. They finally reached another door. This one led to a room far less welcoming than the last. This room was gray and steel with nothing but a drain on the floor and a shower head that looked as though it hadn’t been washed in quite a long time. Lola finally got the strength to muster words. “Umm, what’s your name again?” “Aw, don’t be silly, Blair. It’s me, your dad. Now take your shower, you wouldn’t want Mama to get mad at ya,” and with that he shut the door. Lola turned on the shower and let it run, the water taking over her body. An overwhelming amount of anxiety was swimming over her like the undertow of the ocean, her breathing getting deeper and deeper every shiver her body gave off. There was a dizziness taking laps in her mind. She sat there for a couple minutes longer waiting for the information to process in her head. Her thoughts were interrupted by a banging on the door. “Come on, Blair. Now that you’re home, Mama is wantin’ to have a big nice dinner.” The shower turned off and Lola opened the door. She was greeted by this strange man with his arms outstretched and a towel in hand. Lola snatched the towel and wrapped it around her torso. She followed him back to what appeared to be her bedroom. She sat on the bed and looked at the dress that was laid down. She pulled it on over the towel and away in order to

ez anch

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blair

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blair

keep her modesty. “I bought it for ya. Sorta like a welcome had a crooked smile back present, ya’ kn ow lining the top of his stubbly chin and loo .” He though he could ne ver hurt anyone, bu ked as t that wouldn’t expla was here. in why Lola “Why’d you bring me here?” Lola sai d. “What do ya’ mean ?” he said, his voice starting to falter his fading into sorrow. “I brought ya’ home smile now .” “This isn’t my home . I’m not Blair,” she responded in a hatef “What do you mean ul tone. , of course you’re my little Blair.” The strange man sta rted to walk toward black hair, his deme s Lola reaching for her short anor slowly shifting into an aggressive With one swift mo tone. tion, Lola bolted pa st and ran down th She saw a door op e hallway. en on the opposite side of where her sh been. There was no ower had other place to run, so she ran through She came to what that door. looked to be a kitch en. There was an old breakfast table with wooden a doll sitting in on e of the three seats. per was old and pe The wallpaeling. It was staine d a yellow color. She did time to think abou t the room she had n’t have just entered. She sp another door and otted yet continued to run an d run until her legs tir collapsed undernea ed out and th her frail body. The man appeared again. Lola tried to stand to her feet bu thing took over he t somer body and wouldn’t let her move. He slo closer until her eyes wly got could spy a rag in his tight his knuckles left hand, his grip turned bright white on it so . “This is the last tim e you’re gettin’ away rag over Lola’s nose from me, Blair.” He and mouth. The str lifted the ength to fight back at every gasp for air left her body she took, until her eyes fell slowly.

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ty i c a n picture i

Rana

rer

Sche

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Rana

rer

Sche

blu d e R

idy

Cass

Hale

blu d e R

idy

Cass

Hale

Mill

The Doomsday Clock, a symbol representing the risks faced by humanity, is two minutes from midnight or total annihilation . So, let’s just start a nuclear war. That’s right, everyd ay the news is flooded with reports of threats about nuclear war between countries and the outcry of what such an event would cause. But while most of the world cowers in fear at the prospect of atomic annihilation, frankly it’s about time someone grows a pair and presses that button already. America’s nuclea r arsenal is like a pin-up girl; attention grabbing, mass-produced, and hoard ed in secret locations by old men who don’t want the “kids” getting ahold of it. People who are against nuclear war are just too daft to comprehend the overwhelming number of benefits that come from such a decisive action. A leader who takes charge is one to be followed and preem ptively launching America’s arsenal of world ending missiles is truly the mark of a strong and competent leader. President Trump’s infamous slogan, “America First, ” is exactly the mindset we need in these trying times. Back in the day, Amer ica was always first: first to fly, first to the moon, and we have been given a golden opportunity to be the first to start a nuclear holocaust. An opportunity like this comes once in a presidency, and we must act now. Just imagine when your horribly mutated children are asked what their country ever did for this world, they can smile with pride knowing their ancestors created the barren irradiated wasteland they live in (assuming they can still smile, it’s possible their face might melt or burn off under the intense heat that’s sure to choke the planet.) Was it not Ghandi who said, “Do it, you won’t,” when confronted by ba-

ton-wielding British, who threatened to beat him?* In a sense we too can be like Ghandi, by declaring nuclear war and wiping out all the oppressors in the world who want to do the innocent harm. Not to mention, if Hollywood has taught us anything, it’s that nuclear war would be totally rad. Shooting, looting, and extra limbs as the result of radiation; where does one sign up? After all, who makes that many movies about the end of the world if they don’t want to actually end the world? But most importantly, we must resort to nuclear war because we as a country, have been horribly insulted. Trump, our brave president*, took it upon himself to call out the leader of the DPRK, Kim Jung-Un, as the maniacal “Rocket Man” he is. Kim Jung-Un responded by calling Trump a “mentally deranged U.S. dotard.”* The only logical way to respond to such an affront is a preemptive nuclear strike against North Korea for their leader’s mean words. After all if we as a country aren’t willing to use weapons of mass destruction in retaliation to attacks on our country’s ego, can we really call ourselves civilized? Footnotes *It was not Ghandi *There is no conclusive proof President Trump is indeed brave *Dotard has no relation to Homer Simpson’s catchphrase “doh!”

es Jordyn De

ell itch

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Let’s Start a war

Mill

es Jordyn De

ell itch

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The Ech o| 3

Let’s Start a war

EADING

WEST

Mike Currier me I leave, It’s finally ti n’t my place, ai is th It seems joy h it w e ad I’ll tr ids, vo g space Consumin air and open ed h at re b For un tion, the commo I can’t take d, roll I’ve live The daily d e shuffl The to-work e, ffl ru et ck ja Suit l I can give al n ve gi ve I’ orse, h some rem So now wit final goodbyes, my I must say y to trade ad re m I’ But age, w ly My week the skies. e se ly al To fin

space

Invaders

rown Colton B

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EADING

WEST

space

Invaders

rown Colton B

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Entitled ewel Brooke Al

A mountain stretches far beyond the skyline. Encompassing the generosities of a precious earth, holding only the true treasure at the peaks. Crevices and dimples within the sides of the precious being, encompass a gradient of enormous abnormalities and secrets.

At the off-chance I do shift my gaze below my belt line, I will find the agony and terror hidden within the tight crevices of the mountain. The once beautiful landmark of my history, looked shattered and held by a stagnant appeal to my tastes. Before me, only people of my degree are within eyesight.

Am I entitled? Have I been held on a pedestal called fortune? High above these mountains, too high to see the despair just below my feet.

I now have found that the only fortune I possess, was the privilege I was given. The choices I made have minimal impact on the outcome of my life. and I’ve ignored it.

People lurking at the bottom of this mountain are more unlucky than I was. Assigning themselves to stereotypes of uncanny degrees, hoping for someone to latch onto that same feeling. I ignore the grasps at my feet, tugging on my clothes, wishing I would take into account what I have, not what I want. I continue to ignore.

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This phase of ignorance and pleasure within the same perception haunts me, looking for something to keep me high above the rest, knowing my “luck” won’t ever fail me.

Entitled ewel Brooke Al

Am I entitled? Have I been held on a pedestal called fortune? High above these mountains, too high to see the despair just below my feet.

I now have found that the only fortune I possess, was the privilege I was given. The choices I made have minimal impact on the outcome of my life. and I’ve ignored it.

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This phase of ignorance and pleasure within the same perception haunts me, looking for something to keep me high above the rest, knowing my “luck” won’t ever fail me.

In FLIGHT

Jillian

Semmel

In FLIGHT

Jillian

Semmel

ing other tha g to the gods for anyth Legend said that prayin s from my crush kis a ctful. And while pe res dis s wa h alt he water, or The god of my chooss asking for it anyway. wasn’t on that list, I wa ant, stood before me. k the form of an eleph ing, Themba, who too zuli gods, he was the Hope, but of all the Ba en be ve ha y ma it tra His closest one to Love. ples in Sindwa, I in one of the many tem Kneeling for Themba direction at the my in him to nudge Bheka ed enrag cou en gly on str the most hopeful sev urn, I promised to be festival tonight. In ret island. teen-year-old on the skirts and placed a into the pocket of my ed ch Finished, I rea at clay elephant, which platform before the gre chunk of bread on the t eyes. My offering gh bri d th painted tusks an wi me e ov ab d ere tow , and even a wedding n, a beaded necklace sat next to a cob of cor band. the line of worshiped the next person in Then I stood and allow leading to the other y. I walked past lines pers to step up and pra d godly statues. braced me, the humi e, the Sindwa sun em t cu to dy rea When I made it outsid ple tem the ed down the steps of posed to air welcoming. I skipp ready. Bheka was sup get d an ace tpl rke through the busy ma by sunset. be arriving at my house er as sea foam. I’d I imagined his eyes, silv as d pe flip ch ma sto My ily spent the summer , when him and his fam met him two years ago often as possible, as we saw each other n, the ce sin d an a, in Sindw en we couldn’t. exchanging letters wh this summer, when him was at the start of n see d I’ e The last tim Bheka and I had ek. we th my father for a wi ach Be ho Set d ite I vis

spent days together, him teaching me how to surf, me eating more seafood than I could stoma ch. We’d walked along the beach, until the sun set and the moon rose, and I was sure that he would kiss me. But he hadn’t. Tonight, I would make sur e that changed. Hopping into the street, I heard a panicked “Watc h out!” with enough time to spin around and see a boy barreling his new s cart right at me. Before the front wheel could knock me down, I leapt out of the way and into the fruit stand next to me . I landed on the table of ber ries, splintering the wood and bringing it down with me. Instinctiv ely, I threw my hands beh ind me, but my body still thudded on unforgivin g cement. An accompan ying crash and groan a few feet away told me the newsboy had landed as wel l, and no more gracefully. After a moment, I heard footsteps above me. “Go ds above, I didn’t even see you!” I rolled groggily to my kne es, fruit squelching, massa ging my bruised hip. The sun felt brighter than it just had, and less welcoming too. I squinted up at the boy stan ding before me in cotton pants and a simple shirt. When my eyes rea ched his face, I tensed. Of course it was him. Lwazi stood over me, a han d held out to help me up from the sticky, sweet mess. I noticed the scar on his chin first, ligh ter than the dark skin of his face, then his nose, slightly crooked, and the tender brown of his eyes. Our eyes locked, and I wa tched as he registered jus t who he was offering assistance to. “Jabu.” He didn’t drop his hand but shifted his stan ce as his expression turned sardonic. I scowled. Trying not to grimace, I stood up myself , ignoring the pain in my side and the flare of irri tation in my blood. Well, mostly ignoring.

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f O L A V STI E F The iritJsordyn Dees p The n food,

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f O L A V STI E F The iritJsordyn Dees p The n food,

of those berries!” going to pay for every one ing from her lips. “You are her skin a us, en we bet ked woman loo Zi and I both froze as the off. “Hey!” she k too at each other, nodded, and blotchy red. We glanced e this way too don had We k. r of us looked bac called after us, but neithe They destroyed my lice! Someone stop them! many times to bother. “Po stand!” s and traders alike. street, dodging pedestrian We zigzagged down the uli’s largest harbor, iest on the island. As Baz Today was one of the bus visitors from and s ant ce, filled with merch Sindwa was a restless pla tival Day, the entire a regular day. But on Fes neighboring nations, on city pulsed. encounter with ement, slippery after my My sandals slapped the pav led. the fresh fruit, and I stumb ked back on where s of hard sprinting, I loo ute min After several more direction, looking rol officers jogging in our we’d come to see two pat of my sandals flew one tted me stumbling as around. One of them spo d at us and Zi lere hol He er. ked off the oth straight off. Panting, I kic t spat us out on a tha g me through an alleyway grabbed my arm, yankin . nue a’s Merchant Ave parallel street, onto Sindw enough from city’s trade epicenter — far the s wa nue Ave Merchant ell at high tide, sm fish l ffic and the gods-awfu tra ing om inc id avo to t por both tourists and heart of Sindwa to attract and close enough to the islanders. at him, I could’ve but when I glanced over I might’ve been mistaken, iliarity calmed me. a smile on Zi’s lips. Its fam sworn I saw the ghost of ze of stands and ma al street to the coloss The two of us crossed the rs. elle ryt sto s, and elusive carts, persistent merchant of merchant my city. Its streets were full ut abo ed lov I at wh is s Thi hed beads, nis bur and th clo ring shades of athless. stories of far-off lands, allu bre unrelenting pace. It left me son who’d the boundless blue sky and per the ly den , remembering sud I watched Zi ahead of me me for so many years. been breathless alongside . nt too long trying to forget The best friend who I’d spe

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d at the monr with that cart!” I pointe “You could’ve run me ove wspapers littered the huge basket out front. Ne strosity, a bicycle with a eyes flicked over the My . g out from the basket ground around it, spillin nce, Food, Worship of the Spirits Tonight! Da largest headline. Festival ming into the temeel was twisted from ram Await. The cart’s front wh tched in height, ma e wer We . , setting my jaw ple steps. I stared at him always had been. had since the two doors down from me and Lwazi Ndlovu lived two his chin, falling tched him get that scar on of us were children. I’d wa rs earlier. We’d yea r very same news cart fou off of what looked like the doorknobs ir the g tin coa , with our pranks terrorized the neighbors ssing up as dre and sheets from clotheslines in slimy fish oil, stealing ghouls. his rooftop had ago, before that night on But that had been years tainted it all. “Maybe if you his chest before replying, He folded his arms over et without looking —” hadn’t jumped into the stre “I didn’t —” He paused and steps like a schoolchild.” “— skipping down those en do you go to wh the temple. “Wait. Since looked between me and pray?” ssengers like nted to be kissed. “With me My face got hot. Since I wa gods on my few a e hav to t n, it wouldn’t hur you running people dow side.” his mouth to say ok his head. He opened He rolled his eyes and sho me back on me, bla the pin to y to find a wa something else, probably by a shriek. but we were interrupted carrying a basket left, where a woman stood our We both looked to fair skin were any n, if her heavy accent and of berries. She was Gilvia ked in blackbersoa s ing down at my sandal indication. I winced, star ensive fruit. She exp ibly red inc us, its delicio ries. Gilvia was known for fetch more. to m the stand for a moment must’ve stepped away fro ed, spittle flyeam scr she !” the both of you “My fruit! I am reporting

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I shook myself out of my stupor and caught up with Zi’s now lazy stroll, his hands in the pockets of his cotton shorts. We had spent most of our lives testing the boundaries of the law, as well as the patience of our parents. We were well-versed in staying under the radar. Which is why I wasn’t fazed when Zi laid a hand on my back, steering me towards the nearest stall, one selling beaded necklaces and earrings from Ambisa, a neighboring island of jewelers and artisans. He observed the options, and to anyone else probably appeared nonchalant. But I noticed how his eyes never settled, how his relaxed stance was still strained. I was doing the same thing. To ease some of the tension, I grasped a golden earring, dripping with teal stones. “Suits you, don’t you think?” I pressed it to the side of his face and tilted my head as if I was truly considering it. “Would you get your ears pierced?” He recoiled, his eyes widening. “You come near me with a needle Jabulile Khumalo, and I can’t be held responsible for how I react.” I laughed and dropped the earring back onto the display. Zi was terrified of anything sharper than a butter knife. When I looked back at him, his eyes were guarded. I couldn’t blame him. “When was the last time we did this?” he asked. I sombered. He knew when. Two years ago, before it all fell apart. Ever since then, the only words exchanged between us had been clipped with an edge I’d never expected to feel towards my best friend. Zi spun on his heel, moving deeper into the market. I followed, and we walked side by side, pushed together by the crowds. “He’s coming tonight, isn’t he?” he asked, eyes focused on navigating through the throngs of people. “He usually comes for the Festival.” He meant Bheka. I peeked at the sky as the sun was pulled behind the limestone and mudbrick buildings of the city, realizing that I didn’t want to leave yet. “I’m supposed to meet him any minute now. I should be getting home.” He stopped, and I did too, but for a beat, both of us stared forward at the horizon, the faint stars and purple sky, and let the crowd part

around us. He tu rned to me. “Jabu , listen—” He cut himself off as his eyes dr ifted over my sh hardening at th oulder, face falli e same time. I fu ng and rrowed my brow to run straight in and turned just to a broad chest. in time I was wrapped in ground before I a hug and lifted knew it. “Jabulil off the e! My city girl!” My face broke in to a wide smile and I laughed. “B me back on the heka!” He depo ground. “The be sited ach boy is on M thought I’d see th erchant Avenue e day.” . I never He shrugged, gr inning down at me, almost a fo I, his eyes the sa ot taller than Zi me silver as alw and ays. “You weren’t show Thando so home, so I thou me of the hotsp ght I’d ots, even one as I smiled but tilte crowded as this. d my head. “Th ” ando?” He bit his lip, su ddenly shy, and tipped his head away. I saw the to a stand not to back of her head o far first, shaved cle look at another an. Then she tu display, enraptur rned to ed by the designs was beautiful. Fu on art canvases ll lips, round cu . She rves, a dress that body in sunny ye wrapped around llow. My muscle her s cle nched. “We’ve been hang ing out, these pa st few weeks,” Bh at her with abso lute adoration in eka says, staring his eyes. over I swallowed, feeli ng small. Behind ping closer to m me, Lwazi shifted e. Bheka’s eyes re on his feet, stepached him, reco from their lovestr gnition waking uck vision. them “You’ve got a gi rlfriend?” My vo ice croaked, and mentioned her I cleared it. “You in your letters.” never He tore his eyes from Lwazi and glanced at me. “I it, you know? It’ didn’t want to jin s still new, but— ” he stared over x changed coins wi at her again as sh th the vendor an e exd picked up a sm display “—when al l canvas from th I found out she e was coming to th she wanted to go e Festival, I aske with me.” d her if “Jabu,” Zi whisp ered behind me. I couldn’t look at them. My face wa him, at either of s blazing, emba rrassment hot in Zi had been rig my blood. ht. Those years ago, I had grow he spent that su n closer to Bhek mmer in Sindwa a when . I was fifteen wi aged to build up th a crush so bi an entire fantas g, I’d many in lingered on my my head. One wh lips, hand brushe ere Bheka’s gaze d mine when we turned brighter walked together when he saw m , smile e.

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“Do you want to meet her?” Bheka asked, waving her over. She spotted us and waved back, beginning to weav e between the foot traffic that grew heavier as the sky turned a deep blue as the festival beckoned. I thought about Lwazi, standing just behin d me. About that night, two years ago on his rooftop. Him, warning me not to put so much hope into a person I didn’t even know, that I was letting my imagination get the best of me. Me, telling him to mind his business and grow up, that we couldn’t be kids playing in the streets forev er. I’d stormed off his roof in anger and didn’t go back the next day to apologize. Or the next. I let my pride and ego crystalize, until I was far too fragile to make amends. As if ego, or Bheka, was worth losing my best friend. When I didn’t answer, Bheka looked at me, brow furrowed. “Jabu?” I licked my lips, throat tight. “I—” “There!” All of our heads whipped in the direction of the exclamation to see the same two patrolmen from earlier shoving aside shoppers, eating up the distance between us. From behind me, Zi cursed and caught my hand, and before I could say a word to Bheka, he pulled me through the crowd. All pretense of blending in disappeared as they chased us through the square. We entered a different part of Merc hant Avenue, saturated with the smell of cooking meat and sharp spice s. Merchants haggled over the sound of oil popping in pans and knives slamm ing on chopping blocks, the heat of stovetops making my skin slick with sweat. Zi and I passed traders selling roasted corn and fried rice, sparkling fish, samosas dipped in a golden sauce. Behin d us, we heard surprised yelps and curses as the police shoved and pushed onward. We snaked through the crowd making as little comm otion as possible. I pointed to our right, to an unguarded table draped in a thick tablecloth that brushed the ground and Zi nodd ed. We looked back, and while the patrolmen took their eyes off us to maneuver through a par-

ticularly thick group, we ducked beneath the tablecloth. I crawled around a box overflowing with raw vegetables, leaning my back against it. Zi did the same across from me. His brown skin shone with perspiration, the white linen shirt sticking to his chest. I looked down at myself, realizing I was still a purple and red mess, but hardly caring. “Are you okay?” Zi sounded sincere, but my humiliation kept me from lifting my head. “You were right, yeah?” I picked at my stained skirt. “That night. You were right. It was a silly crush.” I took a deep breath and met his gaze. His eyes were soft, face earnest. “And I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry that I stopped talking to you just because we fought. That I’ve been too stubborn to come to my senses—” “I wanted to kiss you that night.” He said it quickly, like if he didn’t get the words out in a rush, they wouldn’t come out at all. But he didn’t break eye contact, didn’t duck his head. I blinked. “Before or after I told you to grow up?” A small smile and he chuckled. “Both, maybe?” He reached up, scratched the side of his face and the humor disappeared. “I was jealous, Jabu,” he admitted. “Of Bheka, of you, so headstrong and sure of yourself. Gods, it feels so stupid now, but I guess… I thought if you were with him, then you’d forget about me. That you’d outgrow our adventures.” “And that’s exactly what I did,” I whispered. “I let a crush and my pride keep me from my best friend.” I shook my head at him. “Zi, you are my best friend, the person in the world I trust the most.” When he didn’t say anything, I pressed on. “You wanted to kiss me?” He sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the bottom of the

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Monsters

Kaitlin

others. “Jabu, spots, smooth in e m so in over d pe ip tabletop, ch His eyes roamed every day since.” u s yo ar ss ye ki o to tw t ed I’ve want e boy I’d spen straten rejected by th be fru st d ju an d I’ d, . ate ce fa ili my k, hum I should’ve felt sic dreaming about. st friend, my ed. t staring at my be Bu . gs in th to e os th didn’t know how And I did feel d my lips lifted. I I an , — tle m lit hi a t ed ou en ab how I felt heart light guarantee about of rt so y an m hi is. make sense th uld. Zi seemed to jump wasn’t sure if I co said. “For you to he ” , ise om pr a r fo ld out ng he ki e as H t ” “I’m no or whatever. in love with me, ll fa s, ” . m ck ar y ba m d into best frien st asking for my the his hand. “I’m ju . I reached across ate sit he ’t dn di I . en how to th , ow sy kn ea s ’t It wa ine. I didn ed his hand in m sp e a great in cla d ag an im e d nc ul co sta di y chest. But I m in g had lin fee w em ile. That Th ba name this ne with a satisfied sm t an ph ele an of statue Zi eded all along. blecloth, pulling known what I ne reached for the ta d an d ar rw fo d I scoote val. the bustling Festi and I out and into

It laid limp and sti

Burkhart

ere you had left it. ll on the ground wh

ious and snarling, Its teeth once feroc neath swollen lips. be ay Now tucked aw e wind, and moving with th Its fur once waving m open wounds. fro g kin lea cky blood Now matted with sti , sire through its veins sing hunger and de ur co ce on art he Its at. um too worn to be Now slowed to a dr the battle scene, Walking away from destroyed. of the monster you You left the carcass To rot, neath your feet. To decay, worms wriggling be e th th wi e on e m To beco ht It put up a good fig , die to d ve ser de But it you told yourself. At least that’s what

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It harmed others. , of pain and despair It was the epitome A sadist, trail of hurt. And you ended its your thoughts? rifying face haunt But why does its ter silence? d an st in darkness Why does it manife It’s long dead,

Monsters

Kaitlin

It laid limp and sti

Burkhart

ere you had left it. ll on the ground wh

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Why has it changed yo u? Why does regret pang your every movemen t? Your every action? Has it disappeared fro m existence? Or have you? You killed more monst ers, And it became system atic. You developed a trail of your own. The cries were muted , and the faces

blurred. Your teeth became sta ined red and snarling, Fur sprouted from yo ur skin. In trying to kill the mo nsters, Why did you become one?

a Gerges

Alexandr

Once upon a time, there was an odd creature named Adelaide that lived near a quaint little village. The village was beautiful, with cozy, little tutor houses lined up on a polished street that echoed the rhythmic beats of horse hooves and wagon wheels. Adelaide looked through the window of her home longingly and sighed, looking down at the perfect little village, comparing it to her own dwelling. She lived in a rickety, wooden shed that was stationed on the highest hill, as far away as it could be from the village. Her house was old, like her, it had seen better days. There were leaks and cracks in the walls, inviting drafts to dance, and daring them to knock over the array of beakers and potions that were filled to the brim with dazzling colors. Adelaide’s gaze slowly drifted towards a dusty tall mirror across from her and peered at her reflection. She was not much to look at. She was a hunched, old lady with ratted, raven hair, a long wart-covered nose that pointed at the end like a street sign, and grizzly old hands that bore her life’s hard work. But what made her even odder was the rest of her. Under her patched, dirty, marron attire were furry hooved legs and a stubby tail that poked out the end of her skirt. You see, her mother was a witch and her father a fawn, and for it, the townsfolk saw her as utterly repulsive. Despite it’s perfect appearance, the judgmental townsfolk had one fatal flaw. Every morning, the people grumbled and complained of the new day’s work, their feet brushing the ground sluggishly as they trudged their way to the market, and every

Why does its final cry Ring in your ears? Why does the last bit of life that left its face Whisper to you now and then?

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But why won’t it go aw ay?

The eUwglhoy made creatur A Village Made tiful beau

blurred. Your teeth became sta ined red and snarling, Fur sprouted from yo ur skin. In trying to kill the mo nsters, Why did you become one?

a Gerges

Alexandr

Why does its final cry Ring in your ears? Why does the last bit of life that left its face Whisper to you now and then?

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The Ech o| 5

But why won’t it go aw ay?

The eUwglhoy made creatur A Village Made tiful beau

hind oor be lack d e h t b hut on her , she s inside ost stepping said as the s a w e d e lm ow ar.” Sh Adelai ully, a Once ipped gleef Smolder, de with his yell n k , r s y e r it o d h her an “Oooh! Sor d glared at nd plopped Ton l. a “ i a t . a r a t cat’s his fu ed up the c on the head laimed c istled k r e ly c b i r h e p S g m ly to s!” gin on a e for u he calm g him eyes. S lder, pattin a new futur ook that lay elf on b s of ou her sh beginning a dusty spell r curled him e day e th he o day’s t otted over t tand. Smold t the rest of iss n tr ys to d as she fted wooden delaide spe the best wa a town ra sA ok for make handc ched back a the bo and overall g n n i u n h her ets, scan er lously sh stre oom, h meticu arbage, poli old br ling away y t g s f u o r d e her pos twid l. f ped on a plan eautifu kick o look b ight she hop board, and pipe, and a begin That n Smolder on toot of her the door to ha and ugh wand ead. And wit burst thro m ey h o r o e br in he that th do it ves, th erriness. illage v o ld o e u h h o t r m he t old re w httime eady t creatu nouncemen the nig ayor had alr ore for the n a ld is u h o The m an up anym leased with sh as they c tra ’t cle ers p needn . The villag mp as much f u m e bags o d h o t t for on the aper, sure ll a e r t p x s e P cast a ehind her. made treet. b by and their s ther out by de swooped dance along d and any o dei o o la t Ade ying A ver fo hem lling t wood, lefto e streets obe cautiously i w , h tras ,a s of like h th e sight dults a hroug plinter cans, s shimmied t gsters and a e this strang s n rv remain mand. You ows to obse d om n c i ’s w e r n li ei out th peered

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night they gr o on their chor aned of the next’s. Too reluctant to es, the villag set off ers’ rubbish mountainou seemed to p s heap, soon ile up to a ov mayor of th er ta ki n g their front p is village fret orches. The ted much ov for a change er this issue, , though the and begged people seem the conund ed overall u rum. n swayed by So one day, seeing the lo nely old Ad dilapidated elaide trot ov house, hold hide her hor ing her scar er to her f careful ov ns, the may er her head or had a mo scurried tow to st intelligen ards Adalin t and despic e, his round fered her a able idea. H sides flabbin proposition e g as he wen . “Now, um, t, and ofMiss Adelai d e,” the mayor eye to eye w ith the crea huffed when ture, re ward at this shiny leather he limited his gaze, dec ached her. Once iding to focu shoes. His fu to be polite. s downrry stash br “I know this istling as he village has h hem, I’d like attempted ad its squal to sweep it ls with you, all under th himself at h but, ahe rug.” is un onto the may funny joke, and Adelai The fat mayor chuckle d to de looked d or’s next wor isbelieving, ds. “Now the ch hanging anges won’t be immedia ing his hand te.” s gi sure you’ll se ngerly on his suspender The mayor quickly add ed, reste some resu s. “But, if yo lts.” u play your “What wou part, I’m ld you like m e to do, sir? ly tapping th ” Adelaide as e earth ben eath her wit ked, her ho “Every nigh oves lighth anticipatio t, all you hav n. e to do is cl street’s shin ean up arou e again!.” H e said. “You nd here, mak Should be ea ’ll be our offi e the sy cial cleanin change, I bel enough if you use som g witch. e magic, I m ieve the tow ight say. An nsfolk will ta The though d in exke more of t of finally b a liking to yo eing in a co up. Adelaid u.” mmunity w e shook the as mayor’s chu faced grin. bby hands vi too wonderful to pass “It’s a deal!” olently, givi she said and ng a toothyskipped mer rily away to her house.

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After a long pause, a tall man with a scruffy brown beard stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “You’re making this village into a circus!” he protested. “And I’d rather clean up this mess myself if it means ending it!” Horror struck the witch as another spoke up, “You’re disrupting my children’s sleep!” “This is shameful!” said another. “You’re giving our village a bad name!” “I have guests who are with me, and they are appalled!” “This is why we kept you away in the first place!” “Your display is hideous, just like you!” At this the creature was distraught with tears. All her hope of belonging was thrown away like the trash that surrounded her. Her broom snapped in half under her trembling legs and she fell with a heavy thud onto the ground. She pulled herself up, holding her broken broom in one hand and her disheveled cat in the other. She sniffed her long nose as tears fell down on it like a waterfall onto her dress. She was greatly hurt by the people’s words far more than her fall, stunned that people could be this way. And so the ugly creature strode silently with her head bowed on the stainless pavement in the night, accompanied by the trash behind her. The people stood watching her go. When she reached the outskirts of the village, she turned around and lifted the trash into the air, and with a final wish of her wand, she turned all the garbage into flower petals, threw her cape around herself, and vanished. As flower petals fell on the rooves of houses and the heads of children, a little boy spoke out among the silent crowd. “I will miss the ugly creature that made our village beautiful.”

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witch with the legs of a fawn, whistling her tu rade of garbage ne, leading a pa down the street and to a faraway the hills. dump beyond The next morni ng, Adelaide ig as she skipped nored her exha into the village ustion , waving politel people. But they y at the bustlin returned her ga g ze with a curle darted their he d lip of disgust, ads away, or da shed into the ne laide’s ears droo arest shop. Ade ped at their reac tion, but she re tic, these things mained optimistook time. Night after nigh t she did her m make her show agic, trying each more impressiv time to e. One night th foods and the ot ere were flippin her were trapez g in g tempts, the tow trashcans. But nsfolk grew mor despite her ate an d m ore wary and in So one cool nigh dignant. t, she decided to mance she coul try the biggest d think of. Ade perforlaide made tras drums, garbag hcans beat like e bags hop like oversized rabb like birds, the st its, newspapers reets sparkled soar like marble, woo form pegs for rip d planks grew ped clothing to to ride upon. Racc marched as firew oons and strays orks roared be hind her, lightin beautiful colors g up the sky with . Suddenly peop le be ga n to leave their torches that glow houses. They ca ed as brightly at rried her magic. Thril gave Smolder a led, Adelaide squeeze of delig ht and waved w the gathering pe elcomingly at ople. “Good ev enin toothy smile th at stretched from g, everyone.” She said with a ear to ear of he “Wonderful ni r wrinkled face ght. Do you lik . e it?” she asked to the show be pointing her w hind her. and The crowd stoo d there silent, br set in a firm frow ows furrowed an n. The old witc d mouths h assumed that ing for the right they were look words. -

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Pearl

ken Reber

Prisma

Pearl

ken Reber

Prisma

Kaitlin Burkhart

ed its descent Relief was the shower of rain that had just finish gh her pores, throu d soake and body ’s from the sky. It coated Mona core. very her to way making its but she left She had not only left an heirloom at that pawnshop, the force car, her ds towar step each took a part of herself. As she paths in olic parab make to ts drople little g causin eps of her footst by strand frayed being was the air, she felt like the strongest tether that felt she car, d dente her to door the d strand, and as she opene tether snap. beautiful with Mona wished she didn’t have to dispose of it. It was cross. But a into d molde all , pearls ing its golden plate and adorn it had too case, the was hoped she which , cursed wasn’t it even if many bad memories tied to it. from her Two car crashes, a broken engagement, getting let-off red while in occur all had death r’s mothe her and job, nting accou possession of this rosary. it to her on her Each event occurred after her mother had gifted child. She sole death bed, handing her prized possession to her her mother’s was rosary the ing cradled its cold, metal frame, know , and breath final her took r mothe Her her. over promise to watch drifted into death. the sentiment Mona tried for so long to appreciate the rosary and tal, she hadn’t hospi the g leavin car her d crashe she behind it. When ended things fiancé her suspected anything. But when 2 weeks later, thing every why er wond to began because he needed “space,” she red, occur event awful One . worse the for turn n had taken a sudde the of d discar to then another. Years later, Mona had been ready rosary. only difference between her past and present: the

never stumenough away, so she would She found a pawn shop far ation. tin des its to ve thing again and dro mother ble upon the formidable her ugh tho n eve d, nte they wa She didn’t care how much settled on ,000. The pawn shop guy $10 rth wo s wa it d ime had cla e in heaven. nam her g sin mother was cur $200, and Mona knew her dshield, she ps gliding down the win Sitting in her car, raindro Before she h. sig a steering wheel and let out ments, put her forehead on the mo ous joy d nce , she had experie had been given the rosary ten s con t. She ldn’t recall ever feeling thi but sitting there, she cou lf. Glancing at the itse ing the stress exude remained like that, just lett fiancé to “catchexher g etin t she was me clock, she remembered tha le further up.” the car in reverse, each mi With that, she eagerly put cursed object. distancing her from the when she got a text. Mona was an hour away owing up ner anymore. I’ve been thr “Hey, I can’t meet for din all day.” over, wishing read the text a few times Opening her phone, she seeing him. to rd ter. She was looking forwa from her he could somehow feel bet up ked loo deep breath and Disappointed, she took a the ease n rui ing om rtc sho s thi wouldn’t let phone, deciding that she ing of the rosary. she developed since dispos realized she in with the road, and she aga t tac Her eyes made con ect. She obj an to tied s wa k her bad luc was an idiot for thinking collided with and t en she had ran the red ligh n’t scream wasn’t mad at herself wh did She d. cor Ac her little Honda didn’t She . a semi-truck, no match for car the her body thrashed inside th, dea when glass shattered and o int ried car ion faded and she was pity herself when her vis . No, she was content. her und chaos ensuing aro

Clouds

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When the clear

Kaitlin Burkhart

Clouds

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When the clear

Caught Somewhere Bewteen Jordyn Dees

I’m homesick, so sick transcontinental baby, used to riding the waves of airplane turbulence grey, wave at the passing buildings and cars fading into well, so know to used I e peopl of faces the at wave I wake up, wave at myself in the mirror, because sometimes f. mysel and I don’t recognize

g my heart ge squeezin d le w o n k of this e. seem to nam that I can’t feeling e, This awful , somewher ause if I do – something g bec n , si it is to m k f o ac ting to go b I used to. and not wan at I won’t fit the way th d I’m worrie

I’m trying to pin down pinpoint this feeling inside, but it’s on a moving target that the arrow of my hear can’t land I want to hold on to the love I have for where I’m from one leg on either side of the Atlantic, splits, I’m starting to understand why they’re called the I’m ripping, in the space between who I’ve always been and who I ought to be. Caught between a place and a feeling, a then and a now, a what and a why.

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I’m homesick, so sick of this emotion twisting my stomach

Caught Somewhere Bewteen Jordyn Dees

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I’m homesick, so sick of this emotion twisting my stomach

“Oz”Lao

The cabin was choking. I’ d always look out the vie wport, hoping to find something —a hope made in vein. I sunk into my chair, still fiddling wit h the carbo-tabs spilled ont o the plate. The rose in front of me was sick, melting. As it withered, so too did hope for escape from eternal dam nation. I was alone; for once it was qui et in the mess hall. To say that I’d been religious throughout my life would be a lie. I didn’t want to find evidence of purgatory . Our ship ran on low-powe r. Had to save everything for the matter juicers. The light above me cast a white spo tlight, forcing me further into the lullaby hum of the ship’s engine s. The smell of recycled oxygen flipped my stomach. If there were any, I would’ve looked to the stars for som ething to pull me out of this grave. I twiddled the rose’s petal, twirling it like a lock of hai r. I rotted there, until the whoosh of the sliding door broke my trance. Desiree shot me a smile. “Morph, come on, we hav e to tell the crew.” My eyes widened, after ten years of droopines s. “Our sim finally worked. We’ll fina lly get a reaction on the sub atomic level. Everywhere.” She pulled up a stool and dropped the stack of pap ers she’d been carrying. They were covere d in enough mathematica l calculations and theoretical physics and metaphysical postulates to make Einstein roll in his grave. She grabbed my hands, placed her gaze on me. What I couldn’t see outside the hull I could in her eyes. “The... the neutronium ma nifolds worked?” I sprang out of my

ds. chair, still holding her han Bang II is maddeningly. “It works. Big g nin grin “Yes!” she said, official.” ade ourthe mess hall, hoping to par She went to drag me out of far into self my ting roo k, bac tes. I pulled selves through our shipma myself g brin in the universe. I couldn’t one of the last plastic chairs n. eve c was elated. Ecstati to smile, though I certainly .” She nodstay here. To see it happen to t wan I k thin “Desiree, I intently. I me es next?” She looked at ded. “What do you think com h one, stireac in s star nd e and a thousa could feel a thousand nebula planets, with a iating out of her. A million ring, melting, burning, rad m. the wonders, every one of million lives and a million sting out was shedding star waves, bla disk on reti Outside, the acc tion. era gen l fina the led fue e onc have energy and light that might our n bee e hav ld s and entropy wou This anchor of death and end and ous rm eno ir the t cas ls trino scalpe reset button. The ship’s neu we—could feel I— . rity ula sing the into ms brilliant spiraling blue bea for someshuddered. Was it possible it. The doors shook. The ship . ntly are App ss? ma ical attain crit thing with infinite mass to ving. Watching stri l stil es hop g, pin clas l We stood there, hands stil diameter, ing. The ball of light grew in the end, but also the beginn ugh to eno e larg ost Alm es. four tim twice as big as before, three, dreams to of ble t-year away. It was a bub engulf our ship nearly a ligh ver. fore to ht flig our ore last time, bef tful, come. I went to kiss her, one igh Del still taste her lips on mine. I thought it odd that I could ked loo We . gut my a void welling deep in ase. sure. But I could feel a pit, rele no on, losi exp no t, no bright ligh to the viewport. There was w; Entropy pty. It was then that we kne em d, dea ck, bla ce, spa Empty y the keys. awa ew thr door to reality and finished her job, locked the

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Matt e h T ers Whimp

“Oz”Lao

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Matt e h T ers Whimp

y Hale

IGHTHOU

Cassid

y Hale

IGHTHOU

Cassid

STANDARDIZED TEST Renee Fleet

Life is just one standardized test That no one studied for beforehand. They sit down with the pencil in their hand to walk out with Contemplating how many mistakes they can make

satisfaction paper is thrown out Without realizing what they have to face until the them. of front in They breeze through the first few problems and start to feel confident all thinking that they might actually succeed at them But then they come across the first stump: “Your friend hurts your feelings. How do you react?” ned Would you choose A) Talk to them about what happe fight a risk don’t and quiet Keep B) Or Suddenly the students’ thinking stops short. They have no idea which answer to choose h time to come so they skip the question, thinking they’ll have enoug back to it

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The Ech o| 7

LIGHTS

Then the second stump: how your parents “You do poorly on a project and are worried about will react?” for help Would you choose: A) Tell your parents and ask ed Or B) Ignore the grade and don’t risk getting ground

STANDARDIZED TEST Renee Fleet

Life is just one standardized test That no one studied for beforehand. They sit down with the pencil in their hand to walk out with Contemplating how many mistakes they can make

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LIGHTS

SILVERHILL DRIVE

Andrea Burgess

ke.

As I wander past your stucco walls On a nostalgic field trip unchaperoned As I sink into your dee p, rich grass I drown in a reminisce nt sea of dew And though your keys have moved on to other warm hands To be nourished by tho se now secured by you r warm flame I travel through the pic ket fence with ease And soar through you r endless garden Splash in your pool as wide as the sea Run my hands through your shag carpet And feel the coolness of the ancient tiles on my feet Your 1500 square feet we re 15 million to me And your popcorn cei lings were miles of con stellations Hours of imagination and sweet contemplatio ns Your blue patio rug cal led “ugly” Was my beautiful escape My racetrack, my highw ay, my tricycle getaway Your plastic lawn chairs were the seats of a spaces hip Ready to take off from the salmon colored con crete through the brown and orange trees To your cracking brown roof that nestled my bed room window My portal to the stars and my perfect view of tom orrow That sang me to sleep on e last time As my hands separated inevitably from your sw eet, rusty door knobs And though my new ho use is pretty cool too And I know you’ll always be standing there I’ll never forget you, Silv erhill Drive.

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The studen ts proceeded to skip the and the nex question t, and the n ext, until they se e they are ru and the next and they go nning low on time ba until they re ck and address all th e skipped pr alize there oblems are too man y. The clock’s ticking star ts to get fast there is not er en they desper ough time for them to ately flip th fix their m rough each istakes reading th page rough each problem as some of th quickly as e words, bl pos indly choo and as thei sing an answ sible, skipping r stress build er s up, they ca taking over n their consc ience, fighti feel the words giving them n g so much to for priority focus on at without en ough time once to make go od decision s. Once the st udents turn their test in they realiz e the mista kes they m They wish ade. they could go back an knowing th d retake th ey chose al e test l the wrong answers. But they se e now that their lives that cannot are just on be retaken e big test full of mult iple choice s with man and now th ym ey know th at putting off istakes to be made answer their proble ms never ga because th ere simply ve them th e was not en to think clea ough time rly, eliminat for the stud e all other ents options, an d choose th e best path to ta

SILVERHILL DRIVE

Andrea Burgess

ke.

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Andrea Burgess

I remember the feeling of free The feeling of life as it was, But now the feeling of life as it should be. The feeling of a bag of Oreos in the pantry Chicken nuggets and broccoli Capri-sun stealing foes and Lunchable sharing allies and my little hands on the steering wheel of their Barbie Jeep I remember the failed juggling skills and the day in time out turned right-side up by rock, paper, scissor tournaments and origami cranes like paper-cuts and bruises kissed better Checkmates and tag-your-it Dirty fingernails and “he started it” Days ruined by the empty juice box and the DVR malfunction but revived by perfect circles and puppy kisses Tears over bedtime wiped by dreams of being old and free I remember that feeling of free Chicken nuggets and broccoli As the capri-sun stealers take it all away And my newfound juggling skills find no use Paper-cuts and bruises a burden In checkmate and tagged by now Days ruined by unspeakable actions

and lost Lunchable-sharers Tears at bedtime wiped away by dreams of being young and free Revived with the thought of one more perfect circle. Puppy kisses. And Chicken nuggets and broccoli.

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CHICKEN NUGGETS AND BROCCOLI

Andrea Burgess

and lost Lunchable-sharers Tears at bedtime wiped away by dreams of being young and free Revived with the thought of one more perfect circle. Puppy kisses. And Chicken nuggets and broccoli.

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CHICKEN NUGGETS AND BROCCOLI

e a forest or ird can shak gb n so le p akes the flo m A si big band sh s n ck ea o rl cl O er th Like a New of a grandfa er’s song eet chimes r grandfath u yo And the sw of es ym sentences rh t x le ee p sw most com e Are like the th e ar s ie melod l stories The simplest eate beautifu cr s ce n te n x se is your pen And comple aper, your instrument r you p to ritten just fo Like a poet ur novel, w yo short is e b g n ld so u o r And you phabet w al e th s, dest of all er tt e le be the gran ld u o If notes wer w d te age crea lebration But the langu only interpretation, a ce , ngs n so io at of sl simplest No tran iced by the u jo yo re to ld y d or o w el Of a e same m th is e theirs m d to an to them A melody to her, and d an u , yo im h to And to ke yours is g is to me li But my son en for free st li may still Though all s move masse If arms can ountains m e ov m n ca h ease And voices together wit s ld or w e ov m n Music ca speak ords fail to But when w k me ll too wea And pens fa u is the same melody to yo to y A melod

Michael

Wayne Pemberton

We are told we’re at the peak of progression But what do we really, truly see? Not through the screens of phones But rather through your own eyes. We see the blood run through the streets Blood run in places of worship Even run red in our schools Yet we are told it is okay. We see the never ceasing corruption Which runs rampant through our courts But everyone turns a blind eye These leaders we crave become the instigators that we despise Maybe it’s the time we become the leaders ourselves, the leaders we need. When we are the leaders, we won’t turn a blind eye towards the corruption and chaos. We are sick with intolerance, Why can’t we be who we are? Shouldn’t we love who we love without a second thought from anyone? Is it truly so horrible to believe whatever we want? When did the most simplistic thoughts become such intense crimes? We require peace and prosperity, yet we have oppression and obstacles instead. It’s not equal or fair, yet we are still told it is okay.

Andrea Burgess

THE EYES OF THE FUTURE

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A MELODY TO YOU IS A MELODY TO ME

Michael

Wayne Pemberton

Andrea Burgess

THE EYES OF THE FUTURE

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A MELODY TO YOU IS A MELODY TO ME

Is it not our constitutional right to petition the government if we see it fit to do so? We as the people see it fit for genuine change. Change that will start with one simple thing; true equality and justice for everyone.

The corrupt leaders who lead the world seemed to have forgotten a simple truth; The youth of the present will be the leaders of the future. And the youth of today demand drastic change, and we sure as hell are going to get it.

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The prim e ti But it’s ju me for justice an d equality st a decep tio Why doe s inequali n of the highest se ty verity Because still linge the arrog r? ant Your abil ity should feed it, give it life n’t be dete by your p rmined b hy y what yo But rathe sical aspects u identify r by your as, nor d mentality All this in etermine , the con equality, d te nt and co yet peop this shro le don’t st mplexity uded rea op to say of your m lity, neve one thing r looking in , they turn d back. Freedom away from to exercis e re peaceably assemble ligion, freedom o , right to f es. petition th speech, freedom o e govern Our first ment for f the press, right to am a redress appalling endment guaran of grieva tees us sp th ncecific rig Freedom at, our freedoms hts and fr are few a to worsh e e n doms; ho ip an d heavily People are wever, it cen labeled fo y religion, but th is e blood st sored. r what th ill runs in ey believ e, labeled holy plac If you pro for being e te different. s. injustices, st during the nati onal anth you wou em, knee ld Freedom l for the fa of express still be shamed. llen or ev ion, guara public. en for th nteed by e the Bill o Since wh f Rights, en was it yet shunn considere right? ed by the d unpatr iotic to e Yet peop xercise y le look aw our first ay, with sp amendm iteful com ent ments in When did mind. we lose th When did e respect th su When did ch hateful and d at basic society is emeanin built upo inequality g word n? and injust ice becom s become unive rsa e the two pillars of lly accepted? our worl d?

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BIRD’S EYE VIEW Christina

Hale

Wings swept open, cutting through the atmosphere, In the darkening sky, the world seemed endlessly clear. Dancing with windswept clouds, not a worry in the world, As the ginger falcon’s crimson wings carelessly unfurled. For a creature seeking freedom from the problems down below, All the troubles and the worries now the size of specks of snow. In a world so filled with life, it now seemed comfortingly still, The warmth of the sun’s embrace scattering the wind’s unearthly chill. The roaring howl of winds tamed to a simple melody, Countless hills and valleys cast as far as eyes could see. Strong strokes of wings, the world falling farther away, Through gentle winds on which the little bird begins to sway, Like a mother softly rocking a restless child back to sleep, Only this lullaby includes echoing chirps and distant peeps. Colorful clouds like watercolor ran across the sky, Which illuminated blooming trees slowly passing by. The sun peaked in the water like a game of hide and seek, Framing the dark silhouette of distant mountain peaks. Distant lights of tired households as kids prepared for bed, Who would never know the peaceful world right above their heads.

The echo

literary magazine

The Echo, Volume IX was student produced magazine by The Echo staff at Steinbrenner High School. The writing and art work that are featured in this issue were submitted by Steinbrenner students and were anonymously reviewed by The Echo staff members. The layout was designed in Adobe InDesign CS6 by The Echo layout team. The Echo is a member of the Florida Scholastic Press Association. The staff raises funds to publish this magazine at our Spring Poetry Cafe. The magazines were sold for $7.00 each. Background images for this magazine are from Popular Mechanics, March Issue, 1954. Visit us online at steinbrennerecho.com to see more content written by Echo members and other Steinbrenner students. Steinbrenner High School 5575 W Lutz Lake Fern Rd, Lutz FL 33558

@steinbrennerecho

@gshsecho

80 cho e E | Th

BIRD’S EYE VIEW Christina

Hale

The echo

literary magazine

@steinbrennerecho

@gshsecho

80 cho e E | Th

“I’m ripping, in the space between who I’ve always been and who I ought to be.” - Jordyn Dees, Caught Somewhere Between, pg. 64

For more content, visit steinbrennerecho.com