MegaZine 2019

VOL. 8, NO. 1

EGA M !

N ZI E

OFFICIAL JOURNAL OF THE CABIN’S SUMMER WRITING CAMPS

the

CONTENTS VOL.7, NO. 1 SUMMER 2019

DEPARTMENTS Acknowledgements • 1 Student Writers & Artists • 4 Teaching-Writers • 59

THE CABIN 801 S. Capitol Blvd.

Boise, ID 83702 (208) 331-8000 thecabinidaho.org MAGAZINE DESIGN Jocelyn Robertson © 2019 The Cabin All rights reserved.

Printed in an edition of 100 copies.

LOVELY

Meadow Friscopp Grade 6, Boise

INTRODUCTION When I think of The Cabin’s summer writing camps, I immediately think of Freak Alley.

Located in the heart of downtown Boise, Freak Alley is a collaborative, outdoor gallery that’s constantly changing and evolving. Every year, local artists add new paintings to the brick and concrete walls, freshening the gallery and making the alley one of my favorite spots in the city. No matter what Cabin camp I’m teaching, I bring my students there, but when I’m teaching Picture This or The Graphic Narrative, it’s always among our irst stops. It’s one of my all-time favorite ield trips.

In part, this is because images speak to us diferently than words do. They instantly evoke a mood. As I tour the gallery— much of which is new to me each year due to the annual changes—I ask my campers to think about how pictures can make us feel things. How do colors play a role? How does line? How does scale? As we work our way back to The Cabin, we contemplate these questions. Then, we put them to practice in our own art.

Comics, ekphrastic poetry, enchanting characters, fantastical universes—it’s all here. Like the artwork in Freak Alley, the creations these campers make never fail to surprise, fascinate, and delight me. They make the city richer. They enliven each summer with creativity, laughter, and guts. It takes courage to make art, and these campers clearly have it in spades.

To me, words and pictures are the peanut butter and jelly of the art world. They inform and complement each other to beautiful ends. Together, they create something new, engaging emotions on multiple fronts. Though their art and writing, these young campers are inding unique ways to express, question, and explore. I hope you enjoy your wander through this gallery of their work.

– Catherine Kyle, Teaching-Writer

THE BEAUTY IN A ROSE 2

Rose Murphy Grade 4, Boise

THE BEAR’S MEAL Anderson Selander Grade 5, Boise

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Summer Writing Camps at The Cabin touch the lives of hundreds of young people and adults each summer due to the talent of our teaching-writers, the generosity of funders, and the gits of time and support from volunteers, interns, board members and community partners.

Thank you to teaching writers Cassie Angley, Catherine Kyle, Christian Winn, Colleen Brennan, Danny Stewart, Emily Pittinos, Hannah Rodabaugh, Laura Roghaar, Natalie Disney, Nicole LeFavour, and Tracy Sunderland.

Many thanks to our 2019 interns, volunteers, and Cabin staf: Joanna Hancock, Rachel Lee, Trixie Zwolfer, Abby Peck, Amy Nguyen, Avery Gendler, Luiza Tavares Decenzi, Brynne Coulam, Madeline Ryan, McKenna Smith, Michael Vessel, Rebecca Ma, Shiva Rajbhandari, James Sorenson, Brooklyn Riepma, Areebah Hargan, Katie Dandrea, Lillian Gastil, Hillary Bilinski, Gen Emerson, Sally Long, Megan Ramey, Tyler Weber, Megan Williams, Kurt Zwolfer, and Bean.

A big thank you to our friends from the following organizations throughout the state who provided venues, learning opportunities, and ield trip locations to our

campers: the Boise Art Museum, Boise Rock School, City of Boise Parks and Recreation, Flying M Cofee, Idaho Botanical Garden, Idaho State Historical Museum, Discovery Center, Emmanuel Episcopal Church in Hailey, Hailey Public Library, JUMP!, The Record Exchange, Timbee Hall Recreation Center in the Fort Hall Shoshone and Bannock Reservation, the Special Event Center at BSU, the World Center for Birds of Prey, and Zoo Boise.

Writing Camps and publication of MEGAZINE are made possible by generous support from: F.M., Anne G. and Beverly B. Bistline Foundation in the Idaho Community Foundation

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STUDENT WRITERS & ARTISTS A Allen, Andrew • 41 Allen, Avery • 21 Arthaud, Theo • 52

Eschen, Rowan • 53 Fossey, Lilly • 22 Friscopp, Meadow • 1

McMillan, Carter • 9 Meier, Ella • 22 Montgomery, Elizabeth • 33 Murphy, Rose • 2

G B Baumgarten, Sage • 23 Bell, Tayler • 54 Bennett, Jayce • 33 Bennett, Jayden • 40 Bevan, Emmie • 37 Bibbens, Patrick • 16 Bixby, Kamlin • 14 Blair, Aaron • 22 Bond, Colby • 19 Bretz, Clay • 44 Brickley, Leila • 30 Brown, Maci • 29

C Cahill, Aiden • 42 Cochran, Gabriel • 26 Collins, Piper • 11 Colvill, Freya • 54 Crockett, Riley • 5

Goss, Charlie • 19 Greyson, Drake • 34 Greyson, Eleanor • 53 Grove, Eden • 27 Gute, Tess • 43

Nagel, Oliver • 19 Nelson, Anneka • 31 Nichols, Rya • 52 O’Riordan, Elena • 10 O’Riordan, Kieran • 15

Sandow, Sophia • 43 Schroder, Gwen • 30 Selander, Anderson • 3 Shen, Yvonne • 31 Slaughter, Benny • 36 Smith, Flash • 8 Stahl, Liam • 7 Susten, Lindsay • 27 Swanson, Jordyn • 25 Swarthout, Violet • 24

H/J Hallett, Brooklyn • 34 Harris, Ben • 10 Hoobing, Belén • 7 Hymer, Devyn • 57 Jankiewicz, Whitney • 32

P

T/W

Parks, Hadley • 55 Pineda, Gloria • 46 Porter, Ava • 14 Porter, Paige • 29

K/L

R

Keith, Abby • 57 Kelly, Samantha • 31 Kenning, Lydie • 34 LaBonne, Adler • 47 Langdon, Erica • 45 Leidecker, Sarah • 41 Lowe, Isadora • 48

Raeber, Annie • 20 Rice, Ani • 41 Rice, Jackson • 13 Rice, Jessica • 20 Richards, Abaigael • 22 Robbins, Mason • 28 Roos, Mae • 10 Roth, Tyne • 25

Tseng, LiLi • 37 Tyree, Alex • 6 Wald, Jacob • 43 Weaver, Caulder • 39 Weaver, Kessler • 35 Wiebe, Lily • 21 Winters, Genevieve • 7

D/E/F Davis, Abby • 17 Dermott, Ben • 56 Donahey, William • 4

N/O

S

Wood, Dylan • 35

Y/Z Yano, Kai • 18 Yano, Max • 17 Young, Josey • 32 Zhu, Arwen • 47

M Martinez, Maya • 12 McMasters, Carter • 29

MALLARD William Donahey Grade 5, Boise

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MONKEY MAN

Riley Crockett Grade 3, Eagle

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SUPER MONKEY BUISNISE 6

Alex Tyree Grade 3, Boise

THE CROCODILE

Genevieve Winters Grade 5, Boise

THE HORSE

THE MAGIC WOLF

This horse is always hungry, searching carefully for food.

He loves to run in the wind, hair blowing freely. He is always happy, even if he is in a terrible situation. I think this horse is thinking even though I’m stuck in a glass box, I will remain happy. One day the stars fell onto this horse making him unique from the other horses. Instead of just a brown horse, he is like the universe.

On the rug, the people look up, up into the sky to see the magic, make it ly. The people look up to see beauty that the magic makes. The people think of the future the magic can give. The wolf looks down on the people of the land, rooks, water, and grass. The wolf looks down to see the people that rule the animals and all that lives. The wolf looks down to see the lives of the people that come and go. The magic of the wolf and the lives of the humans make an everlasting world for the people that believe.

BelĂŠn Hoobing Grade 5, Boise

Liam Stahl Grade 5, Hailey

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THE OLYMPIAD MAN Flash Smith Grade 3, Eagle

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THE PINKY FINGER Carter McMillan Grade 3, Boise

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CATERPILLAR Elena O’Riordan Grade 5, Boise

MY WORLD BANNOCK STREET Ben Harris Grade 7, Meridian It is very busy The smell of car exhaust pollutes the air.

And yet even if cars are everywhere they do not dominate between Bannock and Idaho St. Bike riders and walking people too.

Conversation, car engines, sirens. They are everywhere. They are excessively loud, there is no escape from it.

The heat is intense. You can feel the sun slap your neck, and the sweat rolls down your face. It is so hot you can smell the heat.

It is very busy.

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Mae Roos Grade 9, Boise Sometimes there is a choice for us—to grow old or not— but usually not for the lowers we water We can see the stars of the past but the past can’t see us look back Eyes open To now Family—is one word—many deinitions like light Every meaning Sometimes we forget we’re planets, diferent gravity, same star Keeping each other in orbit Sometimes I forget to sit on the grass or take in the sunset My cat talks to a squirrel And sometimes I forget to converse with my world

PEACEFUL POEM Piper Collins Grade 4, Boise

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TOFU THE BABY: VOLUME ONE Maya Martinez Grade 5, Eagle

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COMBAT THEN AND NOW

Jackson Rice Grade 6, Boise

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DRESS CODE Kamlin Bixby Grade 6, Boise

THE RECORD SHOP Ava Porter Grade 8, Boise *The b-day cards telling me to party – while the sweet ones ill my hearty *The kid’s toys reminding me of my past – so I write down my thoughts in a notebook real fast *The scented candles calm my nerves and the Buddha statues show of their curves *I buy a bracelet and a few earring pairs even a necklace with a little bear

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*The funky socks catch my eye so I buy one with my apple pie *The record pieces promise great music but checking the price I try acoustic *The stickers make me laugh but I cannot aford even half *The fanny packs I do admire but I must admit I’m getting tired *To stay awake I get some cofee although I would for sure rather have tofee *One more item, a cool hat then I leave, just like that.

CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION Kieran O’Riordan Grade 6, Boise

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KORA 16

Patrick Bibbens Grade 7, Boise

EXPLORE Max Yano Grade 5, Boise

TEAGLE THE WARRIOR WOMAN Abby Davis Grade 6, Eagle

Teagle the Warrior Woman rattled her bird rattle. The crows squawked and lew upwards. As always, her face remained the same. She never smiled, never frowned, only bared her teeth in a strange expression. Her village was so unsettled by her unique appearance that she was sent to scare away birds far from her village. She didn’t mind, or that’s what all the village elders told themselves as she dragged her muddy feet to her lonesome spot, her boots muddy and worn, her cloak dirty and faded from hours of standing in the sun. A feather drited from her hair, but she didn’t move to catch it and instead simply watched it loat in lazy spirals to the ground. Her rattle clinked sadly against the ground when she dropped it. Ater a moment of staring vacantly at the faded teal wood, she stooped to pick it up. Her weak knees threatened to give, but she hufed in deiance and straightened.

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HIDE 18

Kai Yano Grade 4, Boise

THE EPIC BATTLE Oliver Nagel Grade 3, Boise

MISSING

THE REASON YOU CAN’T SLEEP AT NIGHT

A book went missing from the library. There was a gap on the shelf sticking out like a missing tooth. The librarian searched the library but her eforts were in vain. She asked her aide, but they didn’t know either.

The library opened and the people noticed that the book was missing. They stood around the shelf where the book used to be and stared in awe at the gap between the books. Children made up stories about it. The local sherif formed search parties. Ater weeks of searching the party came up empty. By this time the story had caught the eye of the national media, and a nationwide search began. Ater a month of searching, nothing. Someone speculated in might be in Africa, maybe South America or Europe. They searched the entire world.

A year passed and the library was converted into a museum.

People came from miles around to stare at the place where the book used to be. Singers wrote songs, and the Internet came up with hundreds of conspiracy theories. Years passed, the searches continued, but the book was never found.

People gave up, lost interest, and the museum closed. Years later, a homeless man broke into the boarded up museum, walked up to the dusty shelf, and with a smile removed the book from his backpack.

With a quiet little laugh, he put the book back on the shelf.

Colby Bond Grade 7, Meridian

A family lived in a small village. There were three children in the family. The mother had lived a hard life, for her father had died when she was young. Her mother was killed by her best friend in her teen years.

The mother was very upbeat despite all the tragedy. One night the mother disappeared. The father woke up and searched for her frantically. On the radio the news blasted through the house waking the kids up.

“Alleged murderer may be out for revenge!”

So the father, as scared as he was, comforted his children while calling the police.

Ater a few hours the police heard a frantic scream. They ran into the forest to ind out what was happening. When they got there they saw the mother holding a knife …

Charlie Goss Grade 8, Boise

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ONCE A THORN THEN A PETAL Annie Raeber Grade 5, Boise

I REMEMBER Jessica Rice Grade 9, Boise I remember riding on my godfather’s shoulders all the way to the house where I irst met my newly born baby brother. His piercing blue eyes caught me of guard.

I remember Mary Desmet. Her big wet eyes were hidden behind owl glasses adorned with drooping earrings and a constant expression that told you she was trying to ind a way to judge you that could also be considered kind.

I remember my grandma’s stunning white and blue snowlake earrings. Ater I told her they were my favorites she would wear them every time I was at her house. She was seemingly always enveloped in warmth.

I remember Grace Adams.

I remember how when we were nine, Grace Adams refused to eat any snack food except cupcake lavored gold ish.

I remember burning my forearm on a wale iron and crying hysterically as I iced it in a casserole dish illed to the brim with icy cold water. I watched intently over the next few weeks as my scorched patch of skin turned black, blue, purple, and inally, a sickly hue of yellow.

I remember wishing I was just like my mom when I grew up.

I remember my irst perfect day. My father pushed me higher and higher on the swings until I felt as if I could kiss the cotton candy clouds.

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I remember knowing there would be many more perfect days to come.

RAINBOW CONNECTION Avery Allen Grade 7, Boise

Rainbow pride, love for everyone, breaking the norms. Red lower can show the bright colors of the heart. Red and pulsing with blood and pollen. Orange sign, eureka, it shows everything is ine, I am here, I am here to be myself and shine like a star. Yellow faded letters of a store. Dry goods, Millinery apparel, etc. It has been years since the store’s time of life

but it shines through its hardships.

Green stems of a lower, it supports the head of the lower and lets it lourish and blossom into what it wants to be. Blue brick building, it’s pieced together bit by bit become strong and protective, purple neon sign, it shows the rarest color in nature, it’s so rare yet we still desire it and derive our glory from it, we are open to the world and, sorry we are closed now.

We found who we want.

ROSES

Lily Wiebe Grade 5, Boise

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ONLY THE STARS

PLANETS

Ella Meier Grade 9, Boise

Aaron Blair Grade 9, Boise

You

Dear Martin D-day was best served cold. You went a long way down to the bottom of the sea while sleeping on a happy tiger.

where’d you go?

Vanishing stares are dreamed best for an outsider.

The daylight surrounds everything and you’re gone But where’d you go?

Hug the night with the same hope you do the day It didn’t choose to be diferent

Only Ivan went to spy school in Jade City to become a crook.

Genghis Khan went to visit Frankenstein and Frankenstein took Khan to a mouth of dragons.

The rose that grew from concrete is about Tupac, the best rapper in time.

But what if it did?

What if it demanded the universe be seen, still the same kind of gentle through every confusion Can’t you grab my hand and guide me through life?

No.

THE UNIVERSE IS THE LIMIT Lilly Fossey Grade 7, Boise A poem of me a cloud I see. pastels of color and splashes plants of green.

Rushing water so clean.

The rustles of sun blazing through the blue lufy and white, so high high high.

Swirls and chills, chirps of free life.

Red tail disappearing—never seen, never heard, many are crabbing about the funny bird.

Chortle, a snort, a sob of laughter.

A crack in the face, a gleam in the eye oh why may I hear so why can’t I ly!

A lutter of ingers, the pressure is on.

I set a straight face and run it along.

I trip, I fall!

But like always a trunk will take my hall.

Safe, oh few!

I’m happy, I do I squish the calico I stroke the black velvet puf, puf, a breath.

Hazel deep and nice A-pata-tap, pat-lada-pat, put-tat.

A slit in the face, a gleam in the eye I do, really I do—feel like I can ly

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NIGHT AND DAY Abaigael Richards Grade 8, Boise A tornado has torn through the small tree grove as if it’s unimportant a mere stop on the violent journey of destruction But the sun still shines and slowly the grove grows back Better Taller Stronger.

But far away in a small clearing a lower wilts and the sun isn’t shining the moon is out instead it’s nighttime Dark Gloomy Silent One by one the other lowers wilt and slowly fade away.

The Earth is full of the unknown and when disaster strikes she must try to choose whether it will be night or day.

But sometimes Oten they choose for her.

SKY AND NIGHT

Sage Baumgarten Grade 5, Boise

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SPACE BUT FRIENDS 24

Violet Swarthout Grade 4, Boise

THE CAT NAMED MURRAY Jordyn Swanson Grade 9, Meridian

There is no reason to worry, Everything isn’t as bad as it seems.

I know you loved that cat named Murray, But the future depends on which way your heart leans.

To many that stray was nothing but a chore.

He lapped up all our milk and still begged for more.

A naughty cat to most, but to you he was more than a pesky stray, Nuzzling sotly against your shirt and causing smiles to last all day.

I am sorry my dear that Murray decided to wander, Passing through streets and denying us time to ponder.

I know how much his dusty old face means to you; A share of companionship that made you giggle anytime you were feeling blue.

Mommy and I keeping you from searching may have made us seem like iends.

I’ve noticed how much time you’ve spent in the garden, sitting among the tulips and vibrant greens.

Is that where you go to think of the stray’s orb-like eyes and furry orange tail?

Please talk to us; we hate seeing you wail.

Let me see those cute little dimples again, The same ones I saw when Murray attacked the hen.

You’re a happy face nobody should be without, And we’ll remember that cat forever; no doubt.

THE OLD BLUE HOUSE Tyne Roth Grade 7, Eagle

I remember the day when the house across the house was abandoned. It attracted local news at the time and still draws attention today. Writers and tourists come to the house and stare at its old rotting fence and the lowers creeping along the sidewalk. They marvel the grass which is still mowed regularly and wonder who or what mows it. Camps come and write about how the old house is feeling, or what happened inside it. No one cares about my feelings. I still have people inside me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interesting.

Sometimes I just get a surge of anger through the sea of calm and acceptance. No one will ever write about me. I could grow sidewalk lowers or even let my boards rot, and no one would notice. They are so caught up in the past of that house, that they don’t notice me. And soon it will be to late. They are turning us all into condos. The street next to us is already full of them. They will probably keep the house across the street. Just forgetting about me. The insigniicant house on this side of the street.

The condo will take my life and leave my wood and frames for burning. A tiny pocket of the past. Destroyed. A pile of wood tells me about it. She used to be a house too.

She says it’s like having your soul ripped out of your body. Smashed with a hammer until you are just a pile of scraps. Because you are out of interest. Out of date. She said a lot of things, before she was turned into irewood. To keep her destroyers warm. When it is my day to be wrenched from my soul, the house across the street will still be standing. And I will be nothing. Forgotten for an eternity more.

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THE MAGIC BUNNY Gabriel Cochran Grade 3, Boise

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LOST SOULS (EXCERPT)

Lindsay Susten Grade 7, Eagle

Tales of lost souls living in a world that is otherwise unknown had always haunted my dreams. Someone had told me these stories, but I don’t know who. I was positive I’d never seen her before, yet her face looked so painfully familiar. As a twelve year old at the time, I didn’t know how this woman knew the stories, or why she told me that I might get to visit this land. Frankly, all I do remember from that night were the three letters I found written across my mirror.

Chapter 1 “TCG,” I read aloud the next morning. Over and over, I repeat this series, hoping that maybe something will click inside of me and I will remember. Remember what the letters mean, who that woman was, and why she visited. But my mind is a blank slate and recalls nothing more of that night then the haunting yet beautiful face of that mysterious woman and her stories of a world with no hope.

I continue to stare, at this point aimlessly, at the letters scribbled across my mirror in angelic looking handwriting. What could they possibly mean? I continue to question until my mind aches from being so empty, like when you’re so hungry that you feel sick because you’ve not eaten anything.

“Annalee? Are you okay? It’s time for breakfast,” my father shouts from downstairs.

“Oh yes, I’m coming,” I reply as I practically throw myself down the stairs. I am very close with my father and hope that he might be able to sympathize with my confusion and maybe help me to ind the answer.

To be continued …

UNFIXABLE

Eden Grove Grade 7, Boise I am unixable My heart is a lame, my soul a black hole My physical being is being burnt and sucked away from my spirit My spirit turning in a sickly lost world of my making My mind is my prison and my freedom I regret my thoughts and yet reach for them My body decays as my mental state takes over all that I do What I think cannot be spoken I’m mangled in a desperate attempt to make those I love laugh Yet all I get is a scorning for my childish acts My friends look at me like a joke while I wish to be serious I feel my calm being jerked into my endless questions and morals My body starts to sink faster and faster as I wonder what I am My mind sinks into a whirlwind of emotions that tear at me like a hungry pack of wolfs My spirit joins them ripping myself apart My burning heart try’s to cry but has inally run dry My voice is unhear My mind races as wonder if it’s all in my head I’m drowning in y own dream only to wake up to the same pain My only ease is hen my thoughts have calmed and even then I am like no one Alone forever i my own head waiting for a light in the darkness created by my own hands What kind of world do I live in where everything I see hurts me So I continue to walk a shadow to all I wonder if I’m the only one who feels this Alone ighting an enemy that never stops So I walk through my life, like the gray in a beautiful world Unknown, unstable, unixable

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THREE STYLES Mason Robbins Grade 4, Boise

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REVIEW MIRROR

Carter McMasters Grade 9, Boise It was a warm, pleasant night in August as I was cruising through the California desert. Behind the wheel of my silver convertible Mustang, the wind in my hair, it was the best feeling in the world. The moon shone down like a light from heaven. I was visiting my parents, whom I hadn’t seen in over a year. Despite the late hour, I was wide-awake with anticipation.

I checked my gas level and realized I was near empty. Luckily, there was a gas station in just a couple of miles. I was hungry, and I could also buy food there.

When I arrived I pulled into the pump, illed up, and went inside. When I came out there was a shady dude checking out my car. He seemed agitated, or even scared.

I asked what he was doing and he said, “You must help me! I must get away from this place!” I told him I was in a hurry and couldn’t help him. As I was driving away I felt a chill despite the heat of summer.

A few miles later I saw him on the roadside with his thumb out. I thought it was odd considering there weren’t any other cars around that could have taken him, but oh well, it wasn’t important.

I kept on driving through the peaceful night. The moon and stars above me were so beautiful I could’ve spent hours looking at them. But around the next corner standing there. And then at the next bend I saw him again. What was happening? I saw him again and again ater that, ater every corner over the rest of the way. I heard another car behind me, the irst one in miles. I checked the rearview mirror, expecting a car behind me, but instead, in the backseat, I saw him.

UNTITLED

Maci Brown Grade 9, Boise

UNTITLED Farmer plants seed like many before watches it grow into majestic tree claims is last seed to be planted farmer leaves forest breaks leaves shrivel bark rots now I’m not saying that farmer never waters us what I’m saying is can’t send a baby to ocean and expect it not to drown kinda like must wean a baby of breast feeding what I’m saying is we were never weaned you never let just disappeared like bunnies do in magicians’ hats cuz you pop up like red bananas but still like bunnies disappear when life hits fan I still love you like mothers do babies or some daughters love fathers I’m starting to think my metaphors are overlapping so what I’m saying is farmer leaves hasn’t fully come back yet and I know its selish how I wanna reel you in like ishermen do ish.

Paige Porter Grade 7, Boise The hushed voices loat through the house as to not wake the baby in her arms.

The story told time ater time, grim-faced.

Thrust into her broken world— the front door swings open, he stumbles in, a little boy follows.

She reaches for her son and pulls him close, through the open car door she can see the bottles.

The little boy watches, vision blurred, a shouting match.

And then, a front door slammed, a car door banged shut, the smell of burning rubber as the car leaves, the wheels screaming in the dead of night the car waving from side to side on the small road.

Seeing the red head lights, the shadow of a semi-truck in the dark, the roar of two engines, broken glass bottles crashing in the back seat the empty squeal of a pick-up’s tires— then silence.

A clean smell.

A white world.

A quiet beeping.

The house falls silent, a small tear, frustration—no pity, falls, a dark dot on the sleeping baby’s blanket.

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BIRD EFFIGY Gwyneth Schroder Grade 6, Boise

THE REST OF US JUST LIVE HERE Leila Brickley Grade 7, Hailey We hear His Footsteps sometimes clomping or shuling or whispering down the dark wooden stairs A palace in the clouds yet dark on the stairs from the shadow of his stride even whispering is still dark We have wings but we dare not ly for the shadows of one dark man spreads further than our wings He and His footsteps own this palace.

The rest of us just live here.

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JELLY AND FRIENDS Anneka Nelson Grade 6, Boise

UNTITLED

Yvonne Shen Grade 7, Boise She stood, looking up for any sign of human life, but all she saw were trees. Sighing she looked back down to survey her surroundings, which she already knew by heart. The familiar clearing in the woods where she’d been lost for ive days now seemed to be teeming with trees and wildlife. As she checked her bag, she realized that her food was running low and she needed to get back to civilization.

Suddenly she heard a twig snap. The horrible musky scent of ire illed her nose. As she slowly turned around, the crackle of heat and lame seemed to grow louder as it spread closer to her. She backed up and ran faster than a cheetah, but as the ire chased her she screamed and vanished in the bright orange sparks of heat.

As she opened her eyes, she realized it was a dream. But as she surveyed her surroundings, all she saw was white.

UNTITLED

Samantha Kelly Grade 7, Boise Standing in the middle of the ield, I saw her. Trying to clear my head ater the test I took a walk. She stood there singing.

She was singing words I couldn’t understand, like a foreign language I’ve never heard spoken. As I moved closer, I saw her knee-length dress, a light sun yellow color, almost like a pencil. Her hair lowing in the warm aternoon breeze, the closer I got, the more my mood started to change.

Instead of thinking and worrying I started wondering and hoping. As I was about to her she disappeared, leaving me with only a memory and a smile.

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UNTITLED Josey Young Grade 7, Boise I met lonely in the Forest underneath the stars He peered around me as I listened to the bird’s song “Why are you so dull in color?”

I said, “In this place where beauty dances on trees with no end?”

He did not reply so I asked again.

He did not reply so I asked again.

He leaves me but I ask again.

I ask until I drit back to sleep in this place of Lonely, beauty.

LEGO MAN Whitney Jankiewicz Grade 5, Boise

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MEET THE CHARACTERS Jayce Bennett Grade 6, Boise

EMOTIONS

Elizabeth Montgomery Grade 8, Boise Worry can run through you like a storm moving in on your birthday party, but happiness is like when the wind changes directions and the sun ights back with all its might. Fear is like knowing things are going to fall apart, that ache of waiting for the end. Mad is feeling your ist clench and your teeth grind as someone you trusted betrays you.

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ME AND MOM DANCE CLASS Drake Greyson Grade 5, Boise

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UNTITLED

UNTITLED

Brooklyn Hallett Grade 9, Boise

Lydie Kenning Grade 9, Boise

I am two tectonic plates sometimes the two parts of me are pushing into each other raging in conlict building mountains other times they move away distancing themselves in a desperate way to not have to ight each other rarely they run side by side gliding away in opposite directions yet still together inally trying not to transform each other

The cruel cold, like an invisible enemy, is creeping up on me. Shivers travel up my spine.

I’m trapped in darkness, looking for a licker of light giving warmth. I hear footsteps and spot a little dot of light coming toward me. A child carrying a sot candle from beeswax is here holding up the small source of light to my old weary face. A ierce wind blows and our light is gone. But my little companion stays with me and I know I’m not alone anymore. My dry lips form a smile as the child’s tiny smooth hand takes my own old one.

oten I can sense earthquakes in the world above my skin the thump of my heart against the thoughts in my brain

EYES

Dylan Wood Grade 8, Boise Moving together misaligned missing faces melting liEs loose light twisted vines melded together the smiling faces opens eYes. Bright read open eyeS. The fAces falling smiling eyes.

Happy healthy Resting pupils on a screen. RebOot, restart, reset.

New beginnings no more worries oPen mind, open soul reset time to change time to be happy stay happy Now no more change rest my eyes no more time to reset because I am happy.

ROBOT HEAD ME

Kessler Weaver Grade 6, Boise

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THE PATEL Benny Slaughter Grade 3, Boise

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KINDERGARTEN LiLi Tseng Grade 8, Meridian

THE TIME I SOLVED A MYSTERY Emmie Bevan Grade 7, Meridian

“Well, the person who did the crime was wearing a hat,” she said. “That helps me a lot, thank you so much for the hint, Ismay.

Just how many people do you think are wearing hats around town?”

I asked. “You just have to pay attention. I mean, look around, there are a lot more people without hats than with,” she said. I let to look for people with hats. I only found one person wearing a hat that day. It was a woman going for a jog. I wanted to race back home and ask Ismay if the person regularly wore a hat. There was no way this jogging woman wore a black Nike hat every day. But now, the mystery of my mother wasn’t a problem. I could deal with this tomorrow, I had to help Ismay ind out if she was dead.

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STINGRAY

Caulder Weaver Grade 6, Boise

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WOLF JAYDEN Jayden Bennett Grade 6, Boise

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VINYL NEUROSIS Ani Rice Grade 9, Boise

Dreamy vinyl neurosis What a beautiful mistake Turning relentless chemical passion Into ambiguous works of heartache

CELESTE

Andrew Allen Grade 7, Eagle

Calm luid baroque Adrenaline inducing Mozart Unique Smithsonian polka Genres of musical art A chronic electric fever Can be a mesmerizing fate But for the invisible fall beneath it Love is worth the wait Bittersweet hopefulness is draped across the horizon As bluebirds sing ballads of sorrow The hunger for hope on the lips of the sunset Misery alongside the mystery of tomorrow Shelves full of miscellaneous items Humanity’s collective soul Broken for all to peruse Find the piece that makes you whole

SILENCE RISES

Sarah Leidecker Grade 7, Hailey

When the world tips upside down, logic is put on hold.

Shats of hopes and spears of dreams build a castle atop the clouds.

All is silent there, in a world that is screaming.

When the castle falls down.

All the way down.

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CHARACTER PROFILE FOR EDENOR GRANITE 42

Aiden Cahill Grade 8, Boise

THE BLACK NISSAN Sophia Sandow Grade 7, Meridian

As I drove along 11th Street, the dark eerie night surrounding me, I noticed a strange slick black Nissan following me. I didn’t know for sure if it was following me, so I decided to lose the car, just so I could feel a bit safer.

I drove faster than I usually would, and gently weaved through the cars around me.

When I made it to Myrtle Street, I parked my car right next to a small café. I looked around to make sure of my surroundings. To my surprise, I caught a glimpse of the black Nissan in the corner of my eye.

I realized that ater all that driving, I couldn’t shake the car. I needed to approach it.

I started to slowly walk towards the car, my body illing with fear with every step I took.

When I got to the car, I knocked on the window, hoping to talk to the person inside without being hurt or kidnapped.

As the window rolled down, it revealed a man looking about thirty with messy black hair, wearing an oversized shirt and blue jeans.

“Call the police and don’t go near your car,” he whispered to me, and drove of.

I was startled and confused, but did what I was told.

I called the police to investigate, to see if there was anything wrong. They found that my back door had been pried open, and carved into the backseat read ‘Don’t look back.”

Later I learned that the Nissan had seen a strange igure in my backseat.

THE LEGEND OF NEMO SANTIAGO Tess Gute Grade 8, Boise

One day, there was a little boy named Nemo Santiago. One day this little Nemo said to himself, when I grow up, I want to go on up to random people and sing them songs. And so he did. When a few years passed, Nemo got on his bike that still had training wheels, and pedaled his way to the guitar shop. Once he was there, he picked out a guitar that he would be playing the same song on for years and years to come.

THE BREAKDOWN

Jacob Wald Grade 8, Boise

Billy was driving home from the movies. It was a long drive and very dark and there were deer constantly crossing the road. Billy looked at the clock, 11:41; there were no other cars on the road. Eventually he passed a gas station with no lights on. Billy thought that was strange but kept driving, he wanted to get home.

Not far ahead he saw a man standing next to a smoking car. He pulled up and asked the man if he needed help.

The man said, “My car broke down.”

Billy ofered to take him to the gas station. It was a short ride, but Billy decided to turn on the radio to break the awkward silence, and they heard “… a prison breakout in the area.” The two didn’t pay attention to this.

They pulled up to the gas station, but no one was there. Billy decided to get out and see what was what when the man hopped in the driver’s seat and drove away. He heard a gunshot in the distance …

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SHREKY BOY 44

Clay Bretz Grade 6, Boise

SECRET AGENT Erica Langdon Grade 7, Boise

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FAIRIES SHELTER 46

Gloria Pineda Grade 9, Kuna

MUTATED GUINEA PIG Adler LaBonne Grade 6, Boise

METAMORPHOSIS Arwen Zhu Grade 7, Boise

I had a dream that I was trapped in a sufocating darkness, wrapping around me and growing tighter every time I moved.

Then I realized I wasn’t dreaming.

I started to panic. Was I being kidnapped?

Stufed in a sack to await my doom? Or was I just tangled in my blankets… I started to relax. I’m ok! I just rolled around in my sleep too much. But, as I struggled to ind my way out, I began to suspect that I shrank.

Either that, or my roommate found a blanket the size of a house to drown me in.

I touched something sot and nearly freaked out before realizing it was my pillow. Then I knew something was really wrong. Pillows don’t normally grow ive times your size in one night! I desperately stuck my head out to breathe. It was night, and as I watched my giant alarm clock tick past twelve, I really hit panic mode, heart beating a million times per minute.

Everything was way too large.

Or maybe I really did shrink! I lopped forward, windmilling my tiny feet and oversized arms. My ears felt too big too, and, as I tried to stand up, my head kept tipping me over. Finally, I gave up and tried to wake my roommate, Nellie.

“Nellie! Nellie! Nellie. Nellie.

Nellie. Nellie. Nellie!” I tried calling her, saying anything, anything at all, but all I could hear were shrill squeaks. My voice relected of of random things, slamming back into me and resonating in my ears.

I located Nellie; a sleeping clump in the bed across from me.

“Holy cow,” I thought. “Is this what I think it is? Does it have something to do with the funny-looking Gatorade I bought from that creepy salesman outside of our high school? I knew I shouldn’t have drank that stuf!”

I scrambled of of the bed, a breeze from the open window catching thin skin stretching from my arms, landing with a sot thump on the greasy carpet.

More holy cows. Were these wings? I dragged myself over to Nellie’s bed, squealing with the efort of climbing over the blankets.

“I need a lesson on lying.…” I grumbled as I hopped into Nellie’s bed.

“Wake up!” I screeched, hoping she would hear me, and conveniently and accidentally located a mosquito in the air. I could feel a predator waking up inside me as I followed the mosquito’s movement with my humongous, lufy ears. I jumped on Nellie’s nose a few times before launching myself into the air, snapping my minuscule jaws around the bug. Unfortunately I didn’t calculate where I would land, and Nellie inally woke up, a bat having landed in her open, snoring mouth.

She screamed, and hurled me at the window while I squeaked rather pathetically. My stomach hit the window sill, and I, ehm, disgorged all mosquito and Gatorade chunks in my system.

I could feel a burning sensation inside of me, and a terrible pain shrinking my ears and forcing my body to grow.

Moments later, I stood as Nellie’s jaw hit the loor.

I grinned, happy to be human again.

“I,” I announced, “will never be able to look at a bat in quite the same way.”

With that, I collapsed into bed, vowing never to touch Gatorade ever again.

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VIRTUAL REALITY Isadora Lowe Grade 7, Boise

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THE ADVENTURES OF ROBO FISH Theo Arthaud Grade 8, Tuscarora, NV

SLIDES Rya Nichols Grade 7, Hailey I wheeled my wheelchair down the sidewalks, careful to keep my just broken leg away from the ground. I was going to the park to play.

As I approached the people sliding up the slides, the back wheel of my wheelchair hit a crack and I went lying.

The ground was not hard when I hit it.

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Not a person noticed me, even though I was sprawled on the ground.

“Help,” I said.

“No,” a voice behind me said.

“But I’m hurt!” I said.

“You were hurt before you fell and you weren’t crying for help,” they said.

I fell.

I saw the park with the people sliding down the slides.

“Help!” I said.

“No,” said a diferent voice behind me.

“But I’m hurt!” I said.

“And I am hurt, too,” they said.

I fell.

I saw a park, the same park, with people merely standing and looking at the slides.

A strong arm pulled me up.

The voice belonging to it didn’t say a word.

THE BEAUTY OF DARKNESS Rowan Eschen Grade 8, Boise

It is like a cool river Carrying your subconscious to better destinations.

As darkness creeps in all around some feel fear

It is a place to explore to ind a spot and look around in wonder

But not me the darkness has beauty

It gives the moon a time to smile down and bestow luck

Beauty hardly recognized

It holds, far away gardens with bejeweled lowers

It wraps you up in its star-studded folds sending a feeling of safety to your dreams It is a cloak of protection hiding those who need it

The darkness has beauty, the beauty of life, opportunity, and protection

It is an empty canvas, waiting to be lit up with ireworks

SIMPLE BEAUTY

Eleanor Greyson Grade 3, Boise

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AS THE DAY GOES BY Tayler Bell Grade 8, Boise As the day goes bye My heart goes wide as I open up to go inside The inside reminds me of my past While cofee is brewed really fast As I look around there’s no one in line But the Line is not Benign as I think to myself At least the socks will make me laugh Then I realize that I do need a bath I grab a bath bomb for my bubble bath As the music plays I look away But then decide to turn back

FATHOM As I walk around There is a lot of sound From the chattering people looking around

Freya Colvill Grade 7, Hailey The schoolyard was empty, all except me the light came down like a halo then the day turned to night the stars to sun white to black everything to none I could feel a life had woken within me light and dark all in one together It shouted not tiring to me together join I felt a creeping inside me A penetrating evil I could not fathom.

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OCEAN STORM

Hadley Parks Grade 8, Meridian

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THE KNIGHT FROM THE FUTURE 56

Ben Dermott Grade 4, Boise

UNTITLED

Devyn Hymer Grade 9, Meridian

SPARK IN THE HEART

Like the feather to the lame, extraordinary in its act of vengeance before its inexplicable death.

The heart grows with every power of the soul. the heart’s legacy falls

Like a shining accessory, the heart complete and ills the endless void of mind and future.

Abby Keith Grade 7, Boise

grain by grain—remarkable in every passing second. Like the tall trees with ininite feeling, power, and potential. Way further than the thorns on the roses and the leaves on the trees standing tall in the force of the cracking night.

Rising out of hatred and the burning ashes of the inal ire. Being the push that puts out the lame like a single spark in the dead of night.

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TEACHING-WRITER BIOGRAPHIES Cassie Angley lived in New York City where she wrote, produced, and oten performed in more than 12 original plays and musicals. Most recently she performed her play Finding the Michaels Of Broadway at the San Francisco Marsh. She’s worked as a teaching artist for almost a decade.

Catherine Kyle is the author of Shelter in Place (Spuyten Duyvil, 2019), Saint: A Post-Dystopian Hagiography (dancing girl press, 2018), Parallel (Another New Calligraphy, 2017), Flotsam (Etched Press, 2015), Gamer: A Role-Playing Poem (dancing girl press, 2015), and Feral Domesticity (Robocup Press, 2014). Her writing has been honored by the Idaho Commission on the Arts, the Alexa Rose Foundation, and other organizations. She holds a Ph.D. in English from Western Michigan University and is pursuing an MFA in Poetry through New England College’s low-residency program. She teaches creative writing at the College of Western Idaho and through The Cabin. Her website is www. catherinebaileykyle.com.

Christian Winn, the 2016-2019 Idaho Writer in Residence, is a iction writer, poet, journalist, and teacher of creative writing. His iction has appeared in McSweeney’s, Ploughshares,The Chicago Tribune’s Printers Row Journal, TriQuarterly Hayden’s Ferry Review, Greensboro Review, Chattahoochee Review, Gulf Coast, Bat City Review, Every Day Fiction, The Pinch, Santa Monica Review, Handful of Dust, The Strip, Story Houston, The Masters Review, Revolver, and elsewhere. His short story collections of, NAKED ME and What’s Wrong With You is What’s Wrong With Me are out from Dock Street Press. He teaches iction and poetry with The Cabin. He has written for The Boise Weekly, Thrive, The Idaho Statesman, and Idaho Magazine. He is the founder of the Writers Write iction workshop series, co-founder of

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Storyfort, and curator of Modern Campire Stories and the Couch Surfer Artist Series.

Daniel Stewart is a teaching-writer for The Cabin’s Writers in the Schools program, serving as Writer in Residence at Ada County Juvenile Detention, and Frank Church High, an alternative school, in Boise. The author of the collection The Imaginary World, his poems have appeared in BOAAT, Parentheses, Prairie Schooner, Rattle, Scab, Thrush, Yes Poetry, NightBlock, and Graviton Lit, among others.

Hannah Rodabaugh received an MA in literature from Miami University and an MFA in poetry from Naropa University. Her poetry has been published in magazines like Berkeley Poetry Review, ROAR Magazine, Horse Less Review, Written River, Nerve Lantern and others. She has a chapbook of poems titled With Words: Verse in Concordance modeled ater dictionary entries out from Dancing Girl Press. She also has poetry in Flim Forum Press’ anthology A Sing Economy and Nerve Lantern’s Yoko Ono: A Tribute to Yoko Ono, a collection of writing in response to Yoko Ono’s performance art. She recently received grants from the Idaho Commission on the Arts, and the Alexa Rose Foundation, and she is a 2017 Artist in Residence for Craters of the Moon National Monument & Preserve. She works as a teaching writer at The Cabin and as a co-curator for Ghosts & Projectors, a Boise-based poetry reading series.

Former Senator Nicole LeFavour is a poet, essayist and former newspaper reporter with an MFA in short story writing from the University of Montana. Her stories have appeared in the North American Review and other journals.

Her blogs and feature length news stories have received recognition locally and nationally.

OFFICIAL JOURNAL OF THE CABIN’S SUMMER WRITING CAMPS

EGA M !

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LOG CABIN PERIODICALS

The Cabin is a Boise, Idaho literary arts organization. We forge community through the voices of all readers, writers, and learners.

Writing Camps nurture the imagination and awaken the senses through creative adventures in the art of writing.