Agathon Vol. 45, Issue I

AGATHON VOLUME XLV, ISSUE I

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: S R TO I D E E TH M O R F R E TT LE NOVEMB After 45 issues, we are finally bringing the Agathon into the 21st century. This year we will publish three oniine issues and one final print issue in the spring.

Enjoy.

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OUR STAFF

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Editors-in-Chief Melissa Martin Taylor Schwartz Staff Samantha Barnett Andrea Blatt Aidan Coyle Cole Dattel Ben Denzer Skylar Devins

Advisor Sarah Knopik

Kaya Legrand Conor McMann Sarah Pourakbar David White Kathleen White

Writing Artwork Alexx Graham Sonia Larbi 4 Olivia Hill 5 rand 6 uis palli / Kaya LeG la u em V a y 7 Aaron Dup m Sou Erin Bax 8 Coyle ins 9 Declan ev D r la y k S / s artin Sophie Brou 10 Melissa M z 11 Mallory Hilvit lips 2 Taylor Phil 1 s p li il h -P es Becky Blad Lexi Dixon 13 n 14 Jared Gille n 15 Jared Gille / 6 Chad Luetje David White 1 aw Alex Hansh Baskar Culver li 17 Lorelei Karen Folgarel

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4 Ode to County Paris / Alexx Graham / Ninth Within the stony tomb doth lie In undeserving death doth die For whom the lofty winds doth sigh More man than Romeo Who pined and longed for Juliet And never once did cause upset Too caught within the beauty’s net Loved more than Romeo Who saw beyond a pretty face And who the bonds of love embrace To put him in his cobwebbed case At the hands of Romeo Mourn not for fair Capulet Or for Montague do fret But pity we the deadly set Of Count Paris by Romeo

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{sonia larbi / tenth}

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{olivia hill / fifth}

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6 {soumya vemulapalli / sixth}

{kaya legrand / twelfth}

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Company / Aaron Dupuis / Tenth He had traveled many nights upon the broken dusty road. The moon was his only companion, and by its light he trudged slowly towards an unknown goal. Often he stared up at the moon wondering at its beauty. As he gazed above him toward the heavens he noticed that another source of light was slowly making its way into his field of vision. He cast a glance to his left, and his heart skipped a beat.

It had been months since he last saw a working street light, or a working anything for that matter. A bittersweet mixture of nostalgia filled him as he stepped under the lamp. The yellow beams engulfed him, bathing him in artificial light. Smiling softly to himself he listened to the industrial buzz of the bulb atop the rusted silver pole.

Suddenly the buzz changed its tone, the hum became a scream, the scream a whimper, and the light was gone. Now, all too aware of the danger he looked toward the sky to find his old friend, but the clouds had already blocked the moon from view. Cold and alone he was consumed by the things within the dark.

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8 {erin ba x / twelfth}

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{sophie brous / kindergarten}

My Double Dare / Declan Coyle / Second This is my nasty recipe for witch’s brew. First, I will put in 70 slimy ghosts. Next, I will put in 27 stink ounces of blood. Then, I will drop in 44 freaky, yellow eyeballs. Last, I will put in 7,000 secret mummies. Try it if you want to go to the hospital.

{skylar devins / ninth}

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El Café / Melissa Martin / Eleventh El joven estaba atormentado por todos los días después.

Cada domingo él visitaba varios cafés, buscaba a la niña perfecta. Era desesperado. Ella no estaba en ningún lugar. Los camareros le daban miradas simpáticas, preocupadas, y escépticas porque el joven siempre quedaba allí por mucho tiempo. Nunca se apartaba de las ventanas en caso de que ella pasara por la acera. Él bebía tanto café que comenzaba a odiarlo. Pero todo valdría la pena si la viera. Por desgracia, las horas solas y aspirantes se convirtieron en un lastre para él. Después de unos meses, el joven abandonó su causa fútil.

Un año había pasado hasta los dos se conocieron. El hombre había seguido adelante con su vida. Tenía una novia. Sin embargo, la memoria de la chica en el café le atormentaba todos los días. Un día, todo cambió. La novia quería una taza de té por la tarde de un domingo lluvioso. El hombre sugirió que ellos fueran a un café con ventanales grandes para que pudieran mirar el tiempo melancólico. La pareja condenada salió de su vida anterior y entró en la lluvia con su paraguas compartido.

Cuando ellos llegaron al café, el camarero grosero los sentó pero no reconoció al hombre. Todos los eventos del día extraño y magnífico inundaron la mente del hombre.

El hombre estaba mirando por el ventanal a la terraza cuando, de repente, de rabillo del ojo, él vio un cuaderno viejo y familiar en la mochila de una figura oculta por una gabardina. Ella se volvió por un instante y vio al hombre aislado en la ventana. Él salió corriendo del café, dejando a una chica confusa y entrando en la vida de sus sueños. De repente, la lluvia paró y el sol brillante emergió de las nubes suaves, adornando los dos con su luz.

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{mallor y hilvitz / faculty}

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12 A Tree That Loves a Flower/ Taylor Phillips / Twelfth A tree that loves a flower grows more rings within its core whether it has lived the years the rings dictate or more

A tree that loves a flower need all comfort let behind for a flower can be looked at but will never once be climbed

A tree that loves a flower must bid its rose goodbye.

For a flower reaches to the grass, the tree attempts the sky

That tree that loves the flower must accept the fate of trees and turn love to loved the flower lest its heart fall with its leaves lest the dream fall with its leaves lest the self fall with its leaves

A tree that loves a flower – forced to let the beauty go leave the safety of the shelter of the flower that it knows

{becky blades-phillips / parent}

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13 {lexi dixon / second}

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14 Feast / Jared Gillen / Seventh

“Be safe tonight Christopher.”

“Mom, I keep telling you it’s Chris. You’ve wasted almost 15 minutes!

Now it’s 8:15! Don’t worry, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

It seemed as if this night had been planned perfectly for Halloween. I scurried out the front door into the pitch black darkness with the empty sack hung over my arm after I broke free of the forever long lasting lecture about safety. The wind shrieked so much it was as if you were a bull’s-eye for the blowing leaves to strike. The multiple howls from coyotes sounded as if they were hunting in packs.

I never understood why my parents trusted me alone at age 11. At times they just set me loose to take on the world. They told me though never to cross the abandoned street of Sleepy Hollow to Mrs. Pattrino’s. Her house was so dilapidated it looked like an old shack with collapsing windows. My parents always said she was little moonstruck. No one really had gotten the chance to know Mrs. Pattrino. In my opinion, she seemed seem like a lonely grandmother.

Supposedly she dished out the best candy around. On Halloween there are usually rumors around the neighborhood about the abductions of children. One more, two more, three more missing children after trick-or-treating. Nothing ever proven though. Once, cops investigated all around the neighborhood. They searched for children in every house. No one was found. It’s been said that in one of the rooms in Mrs. Pattrino’s house they found very big chicken bones from a previous dinner. All I ever thought of those rumors was its just part of the spookiness of Halloween.

After I fled out the door, I bolted toward the accumulated pile of rain ponchos lying on the brick doorstep of my neighbors the Shades. After I put the poncho in my already sodden bag, I rang the penny sized doorbell which roared like a lion. From my perspective it looked like there was a faint flame of a candle burning in the distance. No one appeared in front of me. While I was leaving, I heard spine shivering screeches from the abandoned road. Like the rumors about the abductions, I thought it’s just part of the Halloween spirit. I stood there and realized that there was no decoration that could imitate that kind of bloodcurdling scream. With thoughts of terror still buzzing like a bee in my head I groped for the poncho inside the bag. Despite what my parents said, I knew I had to explore that cliffhanger.

When I had the poncho on to keep the rain from ruining my costume, I made a break for the Mrs. Pattrino’s passing all of the princesses, power rangers and pirates. There were two children lined up in front of the door. When I arrived, the door creaked as a plump and petite lady with vulture eyes which

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15 must’ve been Mrs. Pattrino welcomed each of us inside with a cozy blanket and hot chocolate. She looked directly at me and said, “Oh you poor baby!

You must have been out in the ghastly downpour for hours because everything you’re wearing is sopping wet.” I could’ve sworn the door locked behind me.

“No ma’am. I have this slender line covering myself. It’s called a poncho.”

“Oh mercy me. Honey my eyes are so bad I didn’t even notice. Seems like my old age is acting up again. Here take a seat next to those two. What I’d like you to do is overflow that bag with delectable goodies. When you’re finished with that, I’ll call you up in the order of the line to come through that white door and I’ll eat you.”

“Ma’am, did you say eat me?”

“Dear lordy did I? Blast this old age! Sometimes my mind goes blank Sweetie. I meant to say I’ll eat some candy with you. I yearn for the candy bones so bring a truck load of those.”

She walked suspiciously into the white doored room as if she was trying to hide something from the three of us. It felt like forever before the first child was called into the room. For the first couple of minutes you could hear chatter of small talk and crunching of treats. Then, I heard some sort of device start. It might have been a chainsaw. Next thing I knew the same devastating screech pierced my ears as hands pounded desperately on the door. Suddenly all sounds stopped. No more screaming. No more pounding. No more device.

I attempted to escape to the door but it was locked. The second kid was called in. She was shaking and mouthed “help me!” I didn’t know what to do. I ran around the house looking for a way out but it was of no avail again. I tried every window of every room all covered in cardboard. In one room there were piles of bones. In another were rusty knives with blood still fresh on the blade.

One slot on the shelf vacant. All the windows covered. All the doors locked. My mind was spinning. Suddenly, the same screams, same desperation, just a different weapon. A gun had gone off downstairs. The shot startled me for what seemed like forever. Next thing I knew warm breath was running down my neck. Cold fingers dancing on my arms. I was caught. It was all over.

I was put into a headlock as she dragged me down the stairs. My feet thudded on the brick stairs. On the main floor I was forced into the chair where I was restrained with by two grimy old belts incrusted in blood. There were large bones. Seemed like they were about the size of a human’s. I thought for a second about the large chicken bones. Could the bones be? Of course! I could still see the flesh of the kids limply hanging off the bones. All those murders…her. The last thing I would ever remember was her chuckling with a knife in hand, “As promised honey, I’m going to eat you.”

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I Want to Be a Fireman / Chad Luetje / First I want to be a fireman because I wanted the be one since I was born. First, I am good at Watching TV about fires. Second, I like to be hot like in a fire. Last, I think being a fireman would be awesome.

{david white / twelfth}

Autum Leaves / Alex Hanshaw-Bhaskar / Third I love autumn leaves They change colors beautifully Just as they would fall

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{karen folgarelli}

Once Upon a Time / Lorelei Culver / First Once upon a time, there was a bucket that lived in a house.

One day, the bucket went for a walk in the woods. The same day, it was his birthday. When he got home, what do you thk he saw? Confetti was everywhere. It was a surprise party. Thy had cake and cupcakes. Then he opened his presents. Then, his parents showed him the best thing ever.

It was love. The thing he had been waiting for!

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Cover Artwork by Miriam Feingold Submit to sknopik@barstowschool.org