2023-2024 Portraits

Letter From The Editor

Dear Reader,

In the past year, with explosions in trends involving artificial intelligence and technological advancements, the importance behind having authenticity, but especially human authenticity, behind the arts and literature has frequently been deliberated by society. With all its advantages, the rapid growth of technology has begun to encroach upon creativity, as we measure our talents based on an AI’s depiction of art. However, it is vital to recognize the merit behind having a human holding the paintbrush and the pen.

This year’s theme of planets and celestial objects is meant as a unique way of presenting our pieces by deciding common themes relating to each planet and the Greek/Roman God they symbolize. As we evolve during our high school years, many of us have taken an interest in space and the sciences, and so this year’s publication integrates the two coherently.

As the youth of today, we have to consider how our art and our words have meaning and purpose, and that what we express in our work is what will make changes to the society we live in. The world will continue to evolve and change, and it is important for us to inspire this change. Throughout this publication, many of our students have done this thoughtfully. Our students have expressed their feelings on environmental and social change, but also their appreciation for the world around us.

All in all, I would like to highlight how incredible the students have been this year with their diligence and resilience while working through each piece. There will always be burn out, blocks and bumps in the creative journey. Nevertheless, the ability to push through these challenges is evident throughout the students this year. An artist unconfident in their artwork has had the ability to make that final brush stroke and an overwhelmed writer who has procrastinated their poem has placed their final period.

The arts and literature are always reliable when it comes to de-stressing, especially in an educational environment in which pressure is high and many students find it challenging to take a step back and breathe for even a second. Simultaneously, it is also important to take a step back from our own work and reflect on it. Mistakes and failure are inevitably part of humanity and that’s what makes a piece of work authentic and successful. Ultimately, the students have put in the effort to emphasize their talents through all their work and that hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Take these pieces of work as validation of your hard work and extreme talent. Let them be a reminder of a part of your life you will reminisce about for years to come. The publication will remain as a symbol of not only their time and contributions at CDS, but will also serve as a sentimental reminder of their memories at CDS. I truly hope that every individual involved in the process of this publication is proud of their work. To you, the reader, I hope you take the time to enjoy every piece of art and writing.

Roshni Karmali, Editor-in-Chief

Thank You

Portraits 2023-2024 would not have been possible without the efforts and support of the following people:

The English and Art departments and the Middle and Senior Schools’ Staff, Faculty, and Administration for their continued support of this initiative;

Ms. Bland for her continued support and assistance through the editing process;

Ms. Weening for her invaluable and continued technological support throughout the creation of this publication;

Ms. Hudson and Mme Carlson for their essential leadership during the year;

The Office of Community Relations for their promotion of Coffee House;

Mac Walmsley, Nathan Leo, Mr. Hofstetter, Mr. Marchessault, Mr. Moorlag and for their technological support at Coffee House; and

All of the featured writers and artists for their outstanding creative contributions.

The Portraits Team

Roshni Karmali

Samantha Romero

Kitty Zhang

Ms. Hudson and Mme Carlson: Faculty Advisors

Template Design: Avery Fortin

Title Page Artwork: Belinda Cheng

Table Of Contents

Anonymous 9

Bagnall-Trofymowych, Alexandra 108

Bianchi, Charlize 41, 62-65

Bobechko, Vanessa 71

Bratty, Savannah 101

Campagna, Christian 39

Carchidi, Anthony 95

Casciato, Hailey 10-11

Chandradat, Adhya 40, 54

Cheng, Belinda 1, 33

Ciarelli, Nicole 129

Circelli, Clelia 49

Colozza, Logan 34-38

Cowan, Sloane 55

Croxon, Sarah 27-29

Davis, Charlie 104-106

Dell’Elce, Sienna 8

Druta, Anna 110-114, 120

Du, Yuning 24-26, 98

Estabrooks, Arden 16-17

Ferro, Alex 85

Fitzpatrick, Kaitlyn 100

Gianikos, Vanessa 115

Gioulos, Ashley 128

Gong, Klara 94

Gordon, Mia 74

Grassa, Leah 109

Griffin, Charlotte 76-79

Hansen, Sydney 81

Hu, Tina 84

James, Elsa 116

Juhasz, Lucas 83

Karch, Kara 15

Karmali, Roshni 73, 118

Kiseleva, Liza 69

Khan, Nadia 119

Koskinen, Santtu 30-32

Ladouceur, Noelle 50-52, 121 Li, Irene 61

Lowry, Brooke 60 MacDonald, Ella 56 Mars, Annika 75

Matsui, Dylan 86-87

Serebryany,

Shenishevska,

Smilovici, Isla

Mars

The well-known Red Planet was named after the God of war, violence and agriculture. Characteristics like honor, courage and willpower will be highlighted throughout this section.

Grade 10 Sienna Dell’Elce

Anonymous Like a Stone

A minute late might not seem like long, but for me it sang a lonely song.

Like a stone I dropped below, caught in the roots; I needed to grow.

I met with Maria, a completely new face grounded once more, my only safe place.

I worked to strive in my nervous life, rising up through the fear, the wrongful strife.

Like a stone, I sat and waited, the anxiety let go, broken, deflated.

I was encased in the journey, keeping me on track the maps in my mind, guiding me back.

That long-long minute is now nothing to me I learned, I grew, sprouting up through the tree.

When I tend to be nervous, scared or alone I think of the courage I get from the stone.

Like a stone, I’m strong and steady Come what may, I’m good and ready.

The Frontier II

Hailey Casciato, Grade 12

In the heart of duty, a hero stands, Mandated purple polo, a symbol grand.

A Sunday warrior, for three hours full, Risking all for a community’s pull.

COVID kits and Nonninas in need, Life’s tapestry woven through valiant deed. Death notices delivered with hands so true,

A frontline hero, a pioneer too.

Behind the desk, a hero’s throne, Identified by the purple cape they’ve donned.

Hospital’s heartbeat, a tower they’ve raised, Crafted from test tubes, a structure praised. Pink solutions and swabs arching high,

A dazzling spectacle beneath the sky.

Bewildered by strength, beauty untold,

In the architecture, a story unfolds.

Phone’s blare breaks the spell, B-wing calls, a story to tell.

A woman needs aid, dialysis below, Downstairs unknown, where shadows grow.

Elevator’s call, a reflection in glass, Purple polo, a hero en masse.

Uncertainty and suspense intertwine, Down the silent hallways, a hero to shine.

Footfalls echo in poorly lit space, Senses heightened, a burden to embrace.

Duties heavier, a mission clear,

For the woman in need, a hero’s near. Sunken eyes and weathered face, Patient awaiting, in her own space.

Purple and green striped sweater she wears, Not all can rock it like the hero dares.

Elevator’s doors open with a ding,

Solace in silence, a confined space’s wing.

Boots squeak, a rhythm in the air,

Thoughts and anticipation, a hero’s care.

Finally arriving on the designated floor,

A stark contrast, urgency in the core.

Flickering lights and faded paint,

In the emptiness, the hero ain’t faint.

A tacky Christmas tree, a peculiar delight, Amidst somber surroundings, a festive light.

Homemade ornaments, a touch of cheer,

A hero’s journey through a realm unclear.

At the door labeled “Dialysis,” muffled voices sway,

Mission complete, the end of the play.

But a sudden scream, an unexpected twist,

Passionate outbursts in a language missed.

The woman’s eyes ablaze, a fire intense,

A voice escalates, emotions commence.

Words unknown, a barrier thick,

Understanding elusive, a hero’s pick.

In the face of bewilderment, a decision bold,

A hero must run, a tale to unfold.

Past the Christmas tree, down the blank hall,

Foreign yelling echoes, a barrier’s thrall.

Profanity or thanks, a hero’s guess,

A unique experience, a challenge to impress.

Abandonment avoided, a presence unique,

Frontline hero, a frontier’s mystique.

Grade 7 Kenneth Wang

Grade 11 Claire Sokullu

Samuel Pizzale, Grade 8 Running for Life

Blood-stained clothes stick to my skin like mud

The smell of sweltering blood, lead, and gas leaks into the air

The deafening roar of shells crashing into the graveyard around us

Gunfire bombarding our will to keep going

Running into no-man’s-land every step seems to be harder and harder

The mucky feeling of mud on our boots or blood it’s hard to tell

Nothing to see except our green and gray land that is our casket

The blinding light of gunfire flashes around us

The strongest men crying, like children

The winding trench slithering and cutting through the dirt

A snake wanting blood lust

Good men, minds changed forever

An immense roar emerges through the fog, an explosion of dirt, mud, and rocks

A scream, yell for help, nobody comes

War is not a place for humans, looking around at the men writhing in pain

Corrupt people in power playing men like pawns

A sacrifice, a petty game of entertainment

Kara Karch, Grade 8 Fields of Honour

The darkness indulged the sky

Smoke surrounding every peak of light

Blood-curdling somber screams soared as death dared to emerge

The wind danced through the desolate fields

And the bangs were like thunderstorms on a stormy night

What was once an empty field was now a crowded zoo

Guns shot as people fought

And poppies swayed in the wind’s embrace

In the fields of memory we honor the fallen

Their spirit and courage will always thrive

As we will remember these dark times

Arden Estabrooks

Grade 10

Arden Estabrooks

Grade 10

Libby Montgomery

Grade 10

Grade 10 Lauren Tomingas

Long Lost Relatives

Mina Matsui, Grade 7

The sun peeked through the dark sky, and Haley Campbell was abruptly woken up by her lousy roommates blasting music. She groaned before slowly getting up and heading to the kitchen. Before pulling out of the driveway to go to work, she checked her mailbox. She rarely got any mail, other than the occasional magazine, so she was surprised to find an envelope with her name on it, from an attorney’s office. Confused, Haley carefully opened it, and the letter read:

Good day Miss Campbell,

We hope this letter finds you well. Our condolences to you regarding the passing of your great aunt, Ms. Margaret Campbell. In her will, Ms. Campbell has listed you as the sole beneficiary. Please arrange a meeting with her attorney Mr. Chistopher Morris immediately.

Regards,

The Ellis McGregor Law Office. Great aunt? Haley thought. Sole beneficiary?

Through the workday, Haley’s mind was clouded by thoughts of the letter and her Aunt Margaret. Who was she? And more importantly, what did she leave for her? Eager for answers, Haley arranged a meeting with the attorney for the next day.

She arrived at the law office bright and early. Haley followed a secretary through a maze of hallways and glass offices until they arrived at a corner office. The secretary knocked on the door, and Haley could hear the click clack of fancy dress shoes approaching them. The attorney was a tall, dark-haired man who carried himself with confidence and spoke in a British accent.. Christopher Morris opened the door and ushered Haley in. “Welcome Ms. Campbell. First of all, my condolences,”

“Thank you, Mr. Morris, I honestly don’t know why she would leave me anything, I’ve never even met her,” Haley said.

“That is most unfortunate, she was a lovely lady,” Christopher said as he pulled out a stack of papers and sifted through them. He raised up a tattered document and examined it.“And here it is. Your great aunt has left you her estate, along with $100,000…and you’re sure you’ve never met her?”

“I’m sure. Is there a catch or anything?”

“The only condition to claim the money is that you must move in immediately. Alone.”

Haley was ecstatic! Moving out of the cramped apartment away from her horrible roommates? $100,000? She could hardly believe her luck, and she quickly agreed to the terms of the will. When she left the office, she felt as though she’d won the lottery!

The following morning, Haley packed up all of her belongings, loaded up her car, and started her adventure to her new home. Three hours and lots of coffee later, she arrived. The estate was not what she had expected.

It was enormous, with grand pillars at the entrance and pointed steeples on the roof. It was also old and run down, and looked as though the slightest breeze would knock it over. The greenery was overgrown and wilting, and the house looked nearly abandoned. The mansion was lined with endless rows of windows, and the reflections of the trees in the glass made it seem like there were figures passing through them. Her hand trembled as she inserted the key in the door and turned the knob. The door creaked open, revealing a living room decorated with vintage furniture and broken figurines.

It’s okay, it’s okay, there’s nothing to be afraid of, Haley thought to herself. She swallowed her fear and explored her new home, wandering through the endless hallways and countless rooms. The creaking of her footsteps on the hardwood floor were

like whispers through the old bones of the house.

She tried to put the whispering out of her mind, but she just couldn’t. Something didn’t feel right. At the end of one of the long hallways, Haley found a bedroom. She brought her bag into the room, unpacked her things, went to the bathroom, and turned on the faucet. The warm water was soothing as she splashed it on her face. She started to relax. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all…

But when she lifted her face and looked into the mirror, she saw it.

A ghastly figure in the reflection. Messy gray hair, bloodshot eyes, donned in blood-stained clothes. It had a creepy, sinister smile plastered across its tilted head. Haley let out a piercing cry and whipped her head around.

Nothing was there.

She quickly exited the bathroom and hastily shut the door behind her. Haley blamed it on her exhaustion. She made her way to bed, ready for a good night’s sleep. As she shut her eyes, she heard the creaking from above. Unsettled by the mysterious sound, she tip-toed upstairs to see what was causing the disruption. As she looked around, Haley suddenly felt a cold, bony hand on her shoulder. As she slowly turned around, she saw the same horrifying figure standing in front of her.

“Welcome, Haley,” the ghost whispered, and Haley shrieked at the top of her lungs.

She didn’t care about the consequences, about the deal with the attorney, about any of it. All she knew was she had to get out. She ran and ran and ran until her legs suddenly gave out. She crawled her way to the front door and fumbled with the knob, trying to escape. The ghost was gaining on her fast, getting closer and closer. She twisted and turned, pulled and pushed, but the door wouldn’t open.

She was trapped.

When the ghost finally approached Haley, she thought this was the end. Its glowing red eyes pierced through the darkness and still had a creepy smile on its face.

“Who are you?” Haley stuttered under her breath, backing away.

“You don’t recognize me?” the ghost said in an eerie voice as she reached out to grab Haley and pull her closer. “It’s me, your great aunt Margaret.”

“What is this place?” Haley shuddered.

“This place was my childhood home where I lived with my parents. After they passed, I couldn’t bear to leave and so I chose to stay with them,” the ghost responded solemnly.

“What do you mean stay with them?” Haley questioned.

“Oh, sweet child, don’t be so naive. My parents and I were inseparable, in life and in death. Join me, and you can meet them. They would be so pleased to meet such a beautiful, young girl.”

Suddenly, the floorboards began to crumble and break and Haley fell to the ground. Scurrying backwards on her hands and feet, she tried to retreat, but soon enough the floorboards gave way. Haley fell through the hole in the floor, but managed to hold onto the edge of a board with her fingertips. Margaret hovered over her, and gave her a little nudge. One by one her fingers slipped, until she fell into the abyss. Her screams became fainter as she fell, and Haley hit the ground with a thud. The chanting grew louder and louder as the darkness enveloped her.

“Welcome to the family, Haley Campbell…”

Jupiter

The King of the Gods symbolizes the ideas of thunder, power, desire and wealth. The pieces throughout this section will depict treasures, strength and devotion to one’s passions and hobbies.

Yuning Du, Grade 7 Behind the Curtain

It was a dance practice like any other dance practice; the same routines, the same choreography, the same instructor yelling in Yuna’s ear. The only difference this time was the new girl. She stood in the training room shyly, alone and looking terrified. Yuna felt pangs of empathy in her stomach. She felt bad for the new girl. At one time, not long ago, Yuna herself was the new girl, she remembered how horrible and nerve-wracking it felt. Yuna walked up to her and rescued her from the awkward moment, tossing her a conversational lifejacket.

The girl’s name was Minji.

Yuna, who had been training and preparing for debuting in the newest K-Pop girl group for years now, was a truly nice and welcoming “older sister” around here. She is always helpful, and selfless, and can turn even the most ordinary and boring moment into the most extraordinary and memorable one. Eventually, with her support, Minji got more and more comfortable with the environment and started to show her talents. Life being a trainee is like listening to a repetitive melody in a song that is never fun and creative. It repeats and stays the same each day, but still requires hard work in order to not let all the effort and talent become wasted. Having a great friend by your side is just the best thing ever! Especially Minji and Yuna, who are the partners of pursuing perfection on the path to the pop world. They both think that maybe this is the perfect trainee life. But life is often like a wild, and uncontrolled river, with unexpected currents and unexpected twists.

“Hello, Yuna,” the evaluator began, leading her into the meeting room.

“We have some game-changing information to share with you,” said the evaluator.

As Yuna settled on the couch in the meeting room, she wondered what would happen, and the air was filled with anticipation.

“Recently, we have been planning the debut program for the upcoming girl group. As well as who is going to have the opportunity to debut.” The evaluator revealed.

“You and Minji both caught our attention with your wonderful vocal, dance, as well as rap skills. You are overall very talented and we can see that the both of you are extremely hard working.”

The room had been filled with excitement, but Yuna soon sensed a ‘turning point’ in this conversation. She knew what they were going to say next.

“As much as we would love to see both of you debut, only one of you will get in. We will share the results with you after the final evaluation, so please work hard to prepare for it, as you know, everyone would want this wonderful opportunity. It is a competitive journey, and we know you’ll give it your all!” Said the evaluator finally.

Yuna stepped out of the meeting room, and the hallway was buzzed with people. She accidentally bumped into Minji who came out from a different door, like when two paths unexpectedly met in a busy street. They both knew that the evaluators informed both of them about the final evaluation. Yuna felt quite upset; the dream of debuting alongside Minji in the same group, how wonderful would that be. On the other hand, Minji did not think the same way, her jealousy took over her mind. Yuna’s terrific skills and experiences made her unsure about herself. She felt the urgency to do something to secure her destiny.

That night was endless for Minji, she faced a tough decision. Minji decided that if she could not win without cheating, then she would do anything for this debut. Wait. What is that? She thought to herself. She wandered through the quiet and dark corridors alone, a dazzling, detailed layered dress caught her sight. She had never seen something this beautiful before, it was like a dreamy canvas, with elegant threads, putting it into an enchanted masterpiece.

It was Yuna’s performance dress for the final evaluation.

The thoughts sparked in Minji’s mind — If I ruined the dress, would Yuna fail? She thought to herself, if I did it, would I become the world’s next superstar? She thought to herself, no matter what I do, I have to get in. She thought to herself, would I feel guilty for ruining Yuna’s opportunities and her future? She questioned herself deeply about the consequences and wondered if she could live with doing this. She faced the reality that she was not as skilled as Yuna. So she decided she had to do it.

“Good job Minji! That was the most amazing performance I have ever seen!” Yuna congratulated Minji who just finished her evaluation, nearly perfect, like usual.

“Thanks, Yuna,” said Minji in a sarcastic tone.

Then, the spotlight shifted to Yuna as an announcement from the speakers signaled it to be her turn.

“Oh! It’s my turn now, wish me luck!” Exclaimed Yuna

“Good luck,” Minji replied, her words sounding mysterious.

As Yuna gracefully came onto the stage, she did not notice anything wrong, but slowly, the threads on her dress were coming apart. Meanwhile, behind the curtains, Minji started giggling, she knew she already won, she knew Yuna would trip and fall. She knew she made the right decision after all.

The music started, and in the spotlight, Yuna poured her heart into each step of the choreography. She is an extremely experienced dancer who can express her emotions through the performance. The judges were mesmerized by her flawless dance. The performance was perfectly enhanced by her fancy layered dress, she was like a beautiful blue butterfly dancing.

When the music was crescendoing dramatically, towards the climax, where she had to succeed on the most crucial and difficult move. She took a deep breath. One. Two. Three. Twirl!

A gasp suddenly echoed throughout the room.

The threads broke apart and Yuna’s dress unravelled dramatically, while the fabric tore apart like a burst of fireworks. The bottom of the layers fell off completely and nearly caused her to trip. The judges were in shock and wide-eyed.

Nothing can help her now. What will she do? She cannot pause her performance, her future, her career will come to an end, and her talents will be wasted. But what if she continued, and something else that is even worse happens?

What can she do? The audience and judges held their breath, waiting to see how Yuna would resolve this unexpected twist in her performance.

A past piece of advice echoed in Yuna’s mind, a lesson her instructor told her years ago when she wanted to give up. Yuna, in a performance, never stop, no matter what, because that may be your one and only opportunity. Your resilience and never giving up is what would matter the most. You never know, a problem may be something that leads you to success. She decided, that no matter what happened, she would continue to do her best to finish the performance. With her new state of mind, she had a brave smile on her face, like she had already succeeded. She thought even if she did not get in, she still had courageously tried her best, and that is what matters the most.

Yuna bravely completed the dance! Applause thundered from the judges and cheers were echoing backstage as loudly as a grand celebration party that was going on. Everyone was truly amazed by her talents and her spirit. The torn dress became a symbol of resilience, marking the best moment of Yuna’s life.

“That was a wonderful performance, Yuna.” Minji congratulated as Yuna walked inside the curtains.

“Thank you Minji! I cannot believe what happened on stage.” Yuna said and felt confused.

“Yeah, what happened to your dress was so unexpected,” Minji replied.

Backstage, Yuna’s mind was a tangled maze, every thought she had led to dead ends. How would my dress just break apart like that? She thought. Meanwhile, the guilt weighed on Minji’s shoulders like a heavy backpack, making each step she took to hide her true emotions tougher. She knew her plan failed. Little did Yuna know, this was just the beginning of a test, evaluating their friendship and changing their lives. The judges didn’t realize the backstage drama, they exchanged uncertain glances, setting the stage for a story of lies, fake friendships, and dreams about to fall apart.

The Bulldog & the Butterfly Sarah

Croxon, Grade 12

The land was an okay place

Not perfect

But not too bad.

There was a Bulldog

They weren’t normally scary or mean

But this Bulldog was big & strong.

There was a butterfly

So young & naive

Innocent and pure.

On one special day

the bulldog set its sights

On the small defenseless butterfly

Not wanting to frighten it

The bulldog was just so taken aback by its alluring appearance.

The butterfly was at risk of extinction

So scared

So alone

But the Bulldog was able to save it.

At first the bulldog was tame & gentle

But nothing ever really does last for animals at great risk of annihilation.

Soon enough

The bulldog became a predator

And the butterfly was its prey.

The butterfly tried to hard to fly away

But all the Bulldog had to do was step on it once & the butterfly would break its wings.

Even though not literally

The bulldog had top ears

It was always in control over its butterfly.

One day

The butterfly did manage to escape

But the bulldog found it soon after

Not only did the bulldog break its wings

But it used its weight to crush the butterfly

All that was left was a shrivel

Of what was once a beautiful & Well-bred Butterfly.

What happened?

The butterfly escaped again

But this time

Was able to remain unseen

Unheard

Unwanted

Back to being endangered.

The butterfly then watched

Thinking it would no longer be alone

As a caterpillar was born

Ready to turn into a butterfly

But it never got it’s chance

The Chrysalis fell down

And the butterfly left solo

Once again.

As for the Bulldog?

It never stopped after just one. More butterflies would Always be in its sights

More creatures to suffer More prey to be killed. That was until the bear, Who found the bulldog swallowed it whole Because the bear Need to protect The bulldog & The butterfly.

The Maestros’ Requiem: Shadows of a Twisted Symphony

Santtu Koskinen, Grade 7

In the heart of Eldorhaven, a picturesque town between ancient woods and rolling hills, a tale of darkness and enchanting artistry unravelled beneath the tranquil facade. Arthur Vanthorne, on the surface, appeared a man of captivating talents, adeptly donning masks of an artist and a musician. Little did anyone suspect that behind the charming smile, Arthur harboured a dark secret: a secret that would unravel the fabric of his dual existence.

Enter Alexander Vanthorne, a mysterious figure who shared Arthur’s blood and parallel predilections. Alexander, a man of few words and elusive movements, revelled in the darkness that enveloped them.

The brother’s artistic prowess transcended the ordinary, pervading every inch of their studio. Canvases adorned with vivid masterpieces lined the walls, each stroke of their brushes telling a different story of pain, despair, and twisted beauty. Sculptures, scattered like silent sentinels, seemed to come alive in the soft glow of the studio lights, witnessing the deceptive dance that unfolded when the moon cast its silvery gaze upon Eldorhaven.

Discussions between the two unfolded in hushed tones, their sinister plans veiled in cryptic conversations.

“The town remains oblivious to the masterpiece we paint, Arthur. Each stroke from our brushes, each note from our pianos, adds another layer to our creation.”

“Indeed, brother. Eldorhaven dances to our tunes, blind to the shadows that linger. But our masterpiece is incomplete. We must add more sophistication, unravel more secrets.”

The townspeople, blissfully unaware of the dissonance beneath the harmonious exterior, revered the Vanthorne virtuosos for the art that adorned their lives, the paintings that reflected the idyllic beauty of their surroundings, and the melodies that wafted through the narrow streets, leaving a memorable mark on their souls.

Arthur and Alexander, sensing the town’s ignorance, became the puppet masters, directing an intricate ballet of misdirection. Their art, once a reflection of torment and despair, transformed into a deceptive brilliance. Canvases depicted scenes of tranquillity, sculptures became embodiments of innocence, and the melodies that resonated from their pianos were tunes of comfort, not despair.

Their facade became more pronounced as they developed an intricate show. The town, enchanted by the illusion, continued to elevate the brothers to the pedestal of artistic genius, unaware that behind the mask of the maestros, psychopaths revelled in the acclaim of their hushed victims.

As the town remained entranced by the brother’s mesmerising facade, new layers of complexity were added to the narrative. Concealed from the residents, Eldorhaven carried secrets, the townspeople’s lives woven into the fabric of their grand tapestry. The seemingly random victims of their macabre masterpiece were chosen not only for their symbolic significance but for the complex connections they shared, ties only Arthur could perceive. Each victim represented a chapter in a twisted novel. Eldorhaven, with its cobblestone streets and century-old buildings, became a living canvas where Arthur’s and Alexander’s artistry found its most powerful expression.

As whispers of the mysterious deaths danced through Eldorhaven, the town’s atmosphere became full of tension. Yet, the allure of Arthur’s and Alexander’s artistry continued to hold the residents captive, blinding them to the darkness that lurked beneath the surface. The grand manor, their studio, became a symbol of reverence and fear, where the lines between reality and illusion blurred like the colours on his canvases.

Amidst the intricacies of their deception, Arthur’s psyche

became a battleground. His belief in the sanity of his art clashed with the growing shadows within. As he delved deeper into the darkness, the lines between the artist and the serial killer blurred, creating a chaotic symphony in his mind. Eldorhaven, unaware of turmoil within one of its maestros, continued to dance to the melodies that flowed from Alexander’s pianos.

As Adrian Ironhill, the investigative journalist, entered the stage, Alexander’s role became pivotal. His influence shaped the unfolding events, pulling the strings in the shadows. The two partners in crime echoed through the grand studio, each word laden with the weight of their malevolent collaboration.

“Adrian Ironhill has become a complication, brother. He peels away the layers, and threatens to expose the threads we’ve woven.”

“He is but a pawn in our game, Alexander. Let him dance in the labyrinth of our creations. In the end, he too will become a stroke on the canvas of Eldorhaven.”

The intricate tapestry of Eldorhaven, now woven with the threads of the brother’s art and Adrian’s investigation became an assortment of malevolence and mystery. The town, still ignorant of the approaching storm, continued to celebrate its masked maestros, oblivious to the convoluted dance between truth and illusion.

As Adrian closed in on the truth, Arthur and Alexander’s partnership began to strain. The elaborate conversations that once resonated in the shadows now turned into veiled threats and cryptic warnings. The looming tension between the two partners reached a boiling point, and the grand studio, once a haven for their collaboration, became the battleground for their sinister disagreement.

“Arthur, this journalist endangers everything we’ve built. We’re on thin ice.”

“Alexander, do not forget your place. You are but an accomplice in my symphony. I control the strings, and I decide the fate of Eldorhaven.”

In a climactic confrontation within the lair, the partnership between Arthur and Alexander unravelled. The echoes of their dialogue reverberated through the room as their dispute escalated into violence. The studio, once a haven of creativity, now bore witness to a deathly clash between two virtuosos.

“You underestimate the consequences of your actions, Arthur. This town will crumble, and your precious art will be lost in the chaos you’ve unleashed.”

“Chaos breeds creation, Alexander. Eldorhaven will be reborn in the image of my design. If you stand in my way, you too will become a mere brushstroke on my canvas.”

Alexander, realising the peril of their partnership, drew a concealed weapon, matching that of his brother. The dialogue turned into the chaotic symphony of a struggle for dominance, a battle that would determine the fate of Eldorhaven.

“Your artistry blinds you, Arthur. You fail to see the destruction you sow.”

“I see it clearly, Alexander. Destruction is the pinnacle of creation. Eldorhaven will be the masterpiece that immortalises our legacy.”

“In the grand finale of our symphony, Alexander, witness the crescendo of our demise, an opulent masterpiece painted in the exquisite hues of blood and betrayal. Our deaths, entwined like lovers in a tragic ballet, etch the final strokes on the canvas of Eldorhaven. Our art concluded in the crucible of conflict, shall be the haunting legacy that lingers in the shadows, a testament to the dark brilliance that once graced this accursed town.

Behold, the macabre beauty of our finale, a spectacle of chaos and artistry that shall echo through the annals of Eldorhaven’s tortured history.”

The grand studio, once a site of creativity, is now a sanctuary to the tragic demise of two partners in crime, each consumed by their twisted vision.

The town, oblivious to the internal strife within the grand manor, continued its rhythmic pulse. Unaware of the shadowy

collaboration and the violent conclusion that unfolded behind the scenes, Eldorhaven remained suspended in the symphony of its ignorance.

As the moonlight bathed Eldorhaven in an ethereal glow, the final chapter of the vigilant Vanthorne virtuosos’ macabre saga ceased. The town, still mesmerised by the echoes of their chilling symphonies, remained blissfully ignorant of the intricate dance that unfolded behind the curtains of their reality. The canvas of Eldorhaven, stained with the hues of deception, ignorantly waited for the next stroke in the haunting masterpiece woven by the hand of its malevolent maestros

Grade 11 Belinda Cheng

“Plague Problems” (Hero Boy)

Logan Colozza, Grade 7

“Not again Patrick!”

Meredith grabbed a bucket of sand to extinguish the flames, an act she had become annoyingly familiar with.

“Stop making gunpowder!” Meredith yelled. “You’re going to burn this whole place to the ground!”

I ignored her with a roll of my eyes, instead, I moved towards the saltpeter, then charcoal, then sulfur, to make more gunpowder. This time, Meredith was quicker. She grabbed the sulfur jar and threw it out the window.

“What the heck was that for?” I said. “Now I can’t get it because of the stupid quarantine!”

“Serves you right!” Meredith sighed.

“You’re no fun.” I retaliated.

“Listen, I’m bored too! The plague sucks. London is closed down for everyone! Do you think I want to be trapped in quarantine in your Master’s workshop? I can’t even visit my family! But am I complaining? No! Am I blowing anything up? No! I’m sitting here, patiently waiting for this stupid quarantine to be over.”

I pondered what she said, and I had to admit, I did feel a little bit guilty. I apologized, but I never said I was going to stop trying to make things explode and went to find more sulfur. Meredith sat down, defeated, occasionally rolling her eyes whenever I blew something up. When she had enough, she went upstairs.

“What’s all that racket?” Someone said, a floor above me. Shoot. I thought. I can’t get caught. My Master was kind, to say the least, but I knew the punishment for using supplies for entertainment purposes instead of work.

“Nothing Master!” I called back. “I just dropped something.”

“Hmmm,” he said with suspicion. “Alright, just checking.”

Edgar Whistleton was my Master. He was a short and stocky figure. He was kind, very smart, funny, and strange, and although he had high expectations of me, he was always understanding when I did something wrong. I could have never asked for a better Master.

“Patrick, think you could give me a back massage? My back is really aching.”

Maybe I could’ve.

“When are you going to get more food Master? We are almost running out. I would go get some myself, but as you know, the plague is disrupting this, and no child is allowed in the street.”

“I’m actually heading out right now. Can you please add food and ingredients to the list?”

I grabbed my quill and dipped it in some ink, quickly writing down the ingredients.

Wheat

Flour

Charcoal

Sulfur x2

Saltpeter

Oil

Milk

“Why does it say ‘Sulfur x2’?”

Oh no…

“Uh, no reason,” I said quickly. “We are just running out.”

“How?”

“Uhh.’’ I scratched my head, hoping he would take his eyes off me. But he wouldn’t budge.

“How?”

I knew it was over “I–I–,” I hesitated. “I may have.”

“Spit it out.”

“Used it all…”

“Oh Patrick…”

“I’m sorry!”

“You know, when I was your age, I never blew things up intentionally.”

I hung my head in shame. I knew I shouldn’t have done it. I made a promise. From now on, I won’t blow anything up on purpose again.

“Anyways,” He said, voice cold. “I’ll be going to the store now.” He snatched the list from my hand and walked out the door. But I noticed he did something unusual, instead of taking a right out the door, he made a left. We lived on the outskirts of London. There was nothing but farmland and rivers to the left. Where was he going?

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The clock stared at me as if it was taunting me.

Where is he? I wondered. He’s been gone for five hours. He’s got to be close by now.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I stared at the clock, it had been 14 hours since he left. By now, I started to get worried. He’d never been gone this long. Was he hurt? Had he been infected? Was he killed? Thoughts rushed past me at a rapid pace. I hoped they were all wrong. I decided to try to fall asleep. I’ll see him in the morning, I thought. But as I was about to doze off, I heard a knock at the door.

“Oh thank goodness, he’s here.”

I opened the door.

“What took you so-”

It wasn’t my Master.

“Who are you?” I asked, hesitantly.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What are you doing here?” I started to get angry. I shut the door on his face. Why couldn’t it have been my Master?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“What do you want?” I yelled.

“This isn’t easy to say, but-”

“What is it?” This man was irking me. I just didn’t like the way he looked at me.

“I am here to inform you that your Master…”

“Spit it out, man!”

“Is dead.”

That was the last thing I remembered before I passed out.

“Patrick! Patrick! Are you ok?” My vision was blurred. My mind too. No, I thought. No, he couldn’t, he left, and he will come back, and- I stopped. I knew I was wrong.

“I found you by the door. What happened?”

“M-m-my Master is d-dead.”

“What? How did you find this out? Who told you this?”

“Someone-” I stuttered. “Someone came, and he-he told me that my Master was dead…”

I told her what happened, how he went to get groceries but turned left, and how he never came back. How he found that I was using the ingredients for something mischievous.

“Are you sure? Was the man lying?”

“From the look on his face, I don’t think so.”

“Oh no! What do we do?”

“You think I know? I’m just as clueless as you!”

“Hey!”

“You know what I mean!”

I had to think clearly. I got up and started pacing.

“The quarantine is supposed to be lifted in about a week. We have about two days of food. That doesn’t match up, obviously. So, we will need to go in the cover of the night-”

“And steal stuff,” Meredith continued, with worry in her voice. “Exactly”

“When should we go?”

I smirked. “How about now?”

“Shhhh,” I whispered. “If we get caught, you know what the punishment is!”

Meredith’s eyes glossed over. I could tell she was worried.

“I know what you’re thinking.” I said, “But if we go back, we’ll starve to death.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” She said, rolling her eyes.

We moved along the cover of the night, pausing whenever we heard a voice.

“Shhhh,” I whispered.

“I didn’t even say any-”

“Shhh,” I said louder. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Shhh!”

Meredith slapped her forehead and muttered something under her breath.

“Listen,” I said, “Someone’s talking about what seems to be the King.” She pulled her ear closer to where the sound was coming from.

“Listen, Morris, I think King Charles is up to no good.” He pulled out a jar of black powder and lowered his voice. “I was told to give this medication to ‘Edgar Whistleton,’ the guy always giving us the ingredients to make these so-called ‘healthy remedies’ the King is ordering us to gather, to give to people who have the mildest symptoms of the plague. After I gave it to him, he put it in his tea. I got word that he died an hour later.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. The King? Killing our people? Killing my Master? That didn’t make any sense. I shook the thought off and walked on until I had an idea.

“Oh no.”

“What?” I spat. I was tired of all her talking.

“I can tell you’re planning on doing something stupid.” I rolled my eyes at the comment. I turned to walk into the bushes.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m trying to find something.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Sometimes I just don’t know about you.”

“Oof, hold on. Ouch. Oh, wait? Perfect.”

“Ah, you’re totally going to find out the King’s secrets with a stick.”

“Trust me.”

“I trust you more than I should.”

I walked up to the two men, whose conversation turned into a debate on whether it was possible to shoot a squirrel with a musket from 60 yards away. I had one chance. I clutched the stick until my knuckles were white, and hurled it with all my might, hoping it would go over their heads and distract them. I became the squirrel.

“What the heck? Where did this come from?”

Morris grabbed the stick and looked around. I tried to duck, but it was too late. We were caught red-handed. Just then I heard Meredith call from behind me.

“Son of a-”

We ran. We ran so fast. The only thing I remembered was the stiffness of my thighs, the fact that my calves felt like they were as

heavy as a bear, and my stomach was boiling like bubbles, begging me to stop. Eventually, we only heard their voices from a distance in the back. We stopped, then we both threw up and fell to the ground.

I woke up first, crawling on my knees, grasping for anything I could grip onto. I pushed myself up with a stick I found and went to wake up Meredith.

“Well, I obviously shouldn’t have trusted you,” she said hoarsely.

“Sorry.”

This little conversation happened much more than it should.

“Where even are we?” Meredith asked, confused.

I looked around and gasped, shakily pointing my finger North.

“Looks like we’re at the King’s castle.”

“How come, wherever I go with you, I always end up in trouble.”

I smirked. “Oh, you’re not in the least bit of trouble yet.”

Then I headed towards the castle.

“What are we doing here?” Meredith whispered aggressively.

“I need to find proof that the King really did kill my Master.”

We trekked up to the only unguarded gate, which I thought was pretty weird. The gate was so big that Meredith and I could actually go in between the bars. I heard rumours that the King’s bedroom is a floor closer to the ground to make it easier to escape in case of a fire. I peeked through a few of the windows but saw nothing. Then I saw a window, slightly cracked open, and I could hear talking coming from it. I looked inside, and there he was, the King. He was sitting on his bed talking to a servant with his desk directly below the window. I noticed the same black powder I saw before. When the servant left, King Charles quietly got out of bed and headed to his desk, mixing more of the powder. I saw what he put in it.

Five parts grounded charcoal.

3 parts arsenic.

1 part ammonia.

There it was. Arsenic. A fine white powder, capable of killing anything within hours. Then there was ammonia. Perfect for matching the blemishes with those of the plague. I had proof, but how could I show everyone this? One thought came to mind.

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

I grabbed my apothecary’s sash, the one I took before leaving my workshop, and made gunpowder.

“3… 2… 1…” I flinched. “Wait. I made an oath to never blow anything up again.”

“I think this is more important.”

I knew she was right. I lit the gunpowder and ducked. We then jumped through the window onto his desk. He lurched away and called guards. We pretended to try to fight, then we were dragged away. I knew a crime like this could happen at a public event, but because there were no public events at this time, we would be hanged in the Square for all the townspeople and his guards to see from their quarters. By now, it was about five o’clock. We had two hours left before we either died or saved the city.

The townspeople were slowly filing out of their houses and into the town square. “I called you here today to announce the hanging of Patrick Celtic, apprentice, and Meredith Rangers, city folk. At just five this morning, they broke into my room, almost

ending it all for me, but I was able to out-maneuver them, and my guards took them away.”

A guard was about to strap the noose around my neck when I shoved him away.

“WAIT!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. The crowd went silent. Shuffling in their positions. Even Meredith turned to watch me.

“I have proof that King Charles II planned many of the deaths of the city people.”

The crowd burst into laughter.

“Before I am hanged, I ask one of the guards’ men to go to Charles’s room and get that ‘black powder’ he’s been making for the past while. Also, grab the materials on his desk.”

Three men went to check on his room. About a minute later, they came back, with the ingredients.

“The black one is grinded-up charcoal. It has no medicinal properties that would help in the Plague.”

“Preposterous!” The King yelled. “How should you know?”

“I’m an apprentice, after all. I do know things.”

The people looked at one another, unsure of what was going to happen next.

“Then that thick white powder is ammonia, which causes the blemishes you see on the plague!”

“I’ve heard enough of this nonsense! Hang him now!”

The guard put his hands on the rope, right by my neck. He whispered into my ear, “But how did he kill them?” I knew my fate hung on these next words.

“With the most common poison of all, arsenic.”

The chatter in the crowd swelled, some screaming, some fainting, but the scientist of the palace was the most intrigued. He leaned over to look at the ingredients, carefully handling each one. He then announced that they were all what I said they were.

“He must have planted that there when he burst through my window!”

The crowd went silent once again. Then a voice came from the midst.

“The King is lying.”

Everyone turned their heads to see where the outburst came from. It was the servant.

“When I gave him his tea this morning, I saw the packets on his desk. This was before the boy and the girl attacked.”

The King could feel the tide turning against him. “Well, you see, I was doing it for you! You just don’t get it! I was trying to get rid of this generation! It’s terrible! Don’t you all agree?”

He could tell the crowd felt differently. “And, of course, these are mean streets! I was trying to protect you!”

“By killing the innocent?” I screamed.

The King continued trying to justify his actions, but he couldn’t be heard over the roar of the crowd. The people didn’t worry about social distancing anymore. The tsunami of townspeople engulfed the King. The last thing I saw was his crown sink into the waves of the crowd.

“We come here today to thank Patrick Celtic and Meredith Rangers for exposing the King’s secrets and putting a stop to Charles II’s wretched reign.”

By now, the quarantine was over, and thousands of people gathered in the square and applauded Meredith and me. Edgar had taught me a valuable lesson. Even if someone you loved wasn’t here, do what they would’ve wanted you to do.

Grade 9 Christian Campagna

A Lesson in Combat

Adhya Chandradat, Grade 9

“And… GO!” The referee’s voice pierced through the noise of people chanting. We were at eye level and we looked identical in our uniforms. I discerned her offensive fighting style through the swift whips of her kicks. My opponent lurched in, her feet slowly thumping against the mat. I stole this unguarded moment by faking her out, landing four speedy kicks. Infuriated by this, she charged in with a back-kick that would have sent a child soaring through the room.

The referee’s words, “Three points!” reverberated in the ear-splitting dojo. I was blindsided by her force. The red flag flew up, signifying that I won the first round. “Break!”, the referee roared.

“That was only forty-five seconds?” I murmured. I made a mental note to conserve my energy.

My Master warned, “She’s holding back. Keep an eye out for dirty plays.” I nodded along, chugging ice-cold water. Before starting the next round, she scrunched her eyebrows and shot me a glare that only the eye of an enemy could replicate. She relied on adrenaline to progress through the next round. Strategically, I started with a powerful back-kick that smacked right into her ribcage. She lost balance, granting me the golden opportunity to deliver a tornado kick. I shot her out of bounds and she landed with a thud. My opponent rose instantly, landing two cut-kicks, evening the score. A cascade of fists fell and I couldn’t evade her strikes. I lost round two.

“You’re tied right now; if you go offensive you can win”, my Master said. Following his advice, I faked her out by throwing a right-hook to her head and following up with a hook kick, resulting in her lip erupting in red splotches. My opponent aggressively came at me, going into a frenzy of kicking, only scoring two points. Enraged, she rammed her leg into the right side of my neck.

“Penalty!” I screamed in agony, grabbing my neck. The pain felt like a thousand needles. Before the referee could stop her, my opponent took my weakness to axe-kick left shoulder. Falling down with a horrible crash, a sharp pain rushed throughout my body. A buzzer went off. The medics rushed to check on me. The room was spinning and I couldn’t get up. After being helped to my feet, I gazed at my rival in disbelief. The smirk on her face told me she knew it was a dirty play. I lost points for falling, and lost the match.

Was I annoyed? Yes.

But loss has never deterred me.

It prompts me to get up and work harder.

As my Master wisely says, “Every loss is an opportunity to win.”

Charlize Bianchi

Grade 7

Another Meghan Weinroth, Grade 10

Another.

All anyone ever asks for is

Another.

Another job done

Another assignment completed

Another story well read

Another song well sung

Another good grade

Another great performance

Another prestigious award Given to me, adding to the impression That I am Perfect.

Another thing on the verge of leaving me Broken, that cannot be stopped, only Cushioned by Death. How long until I inevitably Fail?

Failure. They say it’s how we learn. But how can I learn from the very idea of being wrong?

Being wrong

Thinking wrong

Feeling wrong

Am I wrong?

Another thought

Another knot within the fibres of my existence

Spiralling to unimaginable depths

Until the edges are blurred

Yet the corners are left Sharp, Uncuttable.

Another letter

Another word

Another line

Flows from the ink

Of the neverending thoughts that I Attempt to silence. They always persist.

Classes get harder

Assignments get longer

Time moves faster, dripping from the Invisible hourglass, counting down the seconds

Until the destruction of the Earth.

How can I continue when all they expect is

Another?

Mercury

The Mercury section will explore traveling, communication, commerce and trickery, all of which are this God’s areas of expertise. Hints of passionate exploration and appreciation of the journeys in life are spread throughout these pieces.

Emerging from Slumber

Sophie Yuan, Grade 8

The green-tinted mountains darkened the light blue sky

They pierced the sky like knives

Thin water droplets danced near the cold peaks

As the power of life had just woken from slumber

It shined upon stones covered in history and grim

Rows and rows of mountains faded into the distance

The city made from stone and life slowly emerged from its hiding

Mountains made way for the historic spot to come to life

Standing still, my mind overflowing like papers in a folder

Unable to comprehend the complexity behind rock

Each piece of the puzzle laid to create a masterpiece

Air sharp and fresh wandered through my tired lungs

The sounds of people muffled like I was underwater

The feeling of pride jumping on me like a tiger hunting for prey

Stepping foot into the maze of history and mystery

Marking the end of a 4-day journey

Grade 8 Bryce Scholten

Grade 9 McKenna Reid

Grade 9 Clelia Circelli

The Quest for Solitary Truth

Noelle Ladouceur, Grade 7

It’s been two years, two years since Andrea Anderson, Cooper Anderson’s mother, who had been in a mental hospital for over ten years, tragically passed away. The police say that she died without any struggle, but sixteenyear-old Cooper knew that wasn’t the case.

He sat on his bed looking at an old family album from two years ago, 2005. Realizing that he had been sitting there for over an hour, he flipped to the last page and a small, torn yellowing piece of paper that looked like it had been ripped from the corner of a book, fell out of the album. It had two words written on it: jewelry box.

He got up and sprinted to his deceased mother’s bedroom. He felt warmth and a little uneasy being back in the familiar pale green room. He had not touched it, let alone been in it since he was told his mom was dead. He knew his mother had a jewelry box, but he was clueless as to where she kept it. He looked in the obvious places: her closet, dresser, washroom, night table and desk, but it was nowhere to be found. His heart was pounding like a drum; he had to find the jewelry box.

Looking everywhere he could think of, he thought he might just give up.

No, he couldn’t, not when he had no idea what happened to his mom. Why else would the Anderson family be forced to have a court-ordered closed-casket funeral?

With his eyes wandering around the room, he looked down feeling a rush of defeat. He looked at his mother’s bookshelf, which was neatly organized by colour, except for one book. He walked over and started to pull it out, but it was stuck. He pulled harder and heard a click. The bookshelf slid slowly to the right, revealing a small, closet-sized room. It had a ton of file boxes, and on the floor, there it was - her jewelry box.

He slowly reached for it, questioning whether or not he should open it. If he did, he might discover things that he never wanted to know. But if he didn’t, he knew he would never forgive himself for not taking the opportunity to find out what happened to his mom.

Opening the box, he noticed that there were only two things inside, a necklace and her wedding ring. Knowing that neither of those things could be the item that was so important to hide, Cooper studied the box and saw a crack on the side of it. He flipped it over and pried the two pieces of wood apart. Inside was a letter:

My dearest Cooper,

I’m not as crazy as everyone says I am. Follow my steps, come and find me.

Mom

Looking up into his mother’s vanity mirror he watched as a tear rolled down his cheek. Cooper knew what he had to do.

Later that night, dressed in all black, wearing gloves and a ski mask to hide his face and cover his light brown hair, Cooper nervously walked up the small path that looked hundreds, maybe thousands of years old. He advanced and looked at his mother’s grave, picked up what he had left there earlier that evening, and holding it over his head, Cooper plunged the shovel into the ground.

Half an hour later, covered in a river of sweat, Cooper jumped into the newly dug hole revealing his mother’s casket. Brushing off the dirt left on top, Cooper took a deep breath, pulled up the latch and nervously opened the casket.

Cooper gasped. It was empty, except for one thing, her bracelet from the mental hospital.

Grabbing it and closing the casket, Cooper pushed himself up and out of the hole. He ran. He ran until he felt like throwing up, he ran until his legs were numb, and he ran until

he got home. He burst through the front door and collapsed on the hard, cold tile sobbing uncontrollably.

Catching his breath, Cooper knew that the police would find out he had dug up his mother’s grave; he had to get rid of the evidence. Running downstairs to the laundry room, he grabbed a bucket and a bottle of bleach, poured the bleach into the bucket and put everything he wore that night into it. He carried the bucket upstairs to the washroom and dumped the contents into the shower. He grabbed a pair of scissors and started shredding the clothes. Picking up a handful of the shredded clothing at a time, he threw them into the toilet and flushed over and over again, until there was only a puddle of bleach left in the bottom of the shower.

The next day, needing to know more, Cooper drove for an hour until he arrived at the mental hospital where he last saw his mother. Looking up the words “Grimwood Psychiatric Institution,’’ seemed to laugh at him. He walked around the outside of the hospital, looking for a way in which he wouldn’t be seen, which was more difficult than he thought. All of the windows were either blocked off or barred. When he arrived at the south side of the building, he saw the library that he and his mother used to sit in together. It had a small window without any bars. He remembered that his mother used to say that nobody would ever go to the library because they had no interest in books. Grabbing his pocket knife, he slowly pried the window open and waited for some sort of alarm to go off, but it never did. Cooper slowly slipped inside.

Entering the room that was quite small and very dusty, he was hit with a wave of sadness. Looking around, he saw the chair they used to sit in together, and the books they used to read. He remembered how his mother would say that her only source of fresh air was the window he had just crawled in through.

“Andrea’s son.”

Startled, Cooper turned around, and a small frail woman stood at the doorway gazing off into the distance.

“I had a feeling you would come back,” she whispered.

“You remember me?” Cooper asked. He realized that the very woman he was talking to was the only person his mother trusted. He looked up and the woman had made her way to the bookshelf.

“Of course I do,” she cried. “Do you miss her?”

“Very much,” he said, his voice shaking.

Cooper didn’t know what to say. “Um, m-my my mother is….dead,” he stammered.

“Ah yes, dead.”

“I noticed that you never visit anymore. Why is that?” she asked with sadness in her voice.

There was a heavy silence for a minute, you could hear a pin drop. Cooper felt uncomfortable.

“Did you find it?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Did I find what?”

“The note, of course! Why else would you visit?”

“How do you know about the note?” he whispered. Suddenly Cooper heard footsteps approaching. He ran to the corner of the room and hid behind the chair.

“What are you doing down here?” a man who appeared to be in his mid-forties asked.

“Just getting a book,” she said brightly. “You know how much I love Gone With The Wind! But, I think I will try something new today.”

Cooper watched as she grabbed a book and walked out of the library, followed by the nurse.

“Gone With The Wind,” he whispered.

Getting up Cooper raced to the bookshelf and noticed immediately that there was a path where the dust was pushed aside. He looked at the book that was thereGone With The Wind. He pulled it off the shelf and quickly opened it, the faded yellow pages looked like they were about to tear. Cooper flipped the page and noticed that the bottom corner was ripped off. He had the note from his mom in his pocket still. Taking it out, he put it on the page. It was a perfect fit! Knowing there must be

more Cooper turned the page and noticed that somebody had underlined some of the letters on the first page:

“Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. In her face were too sharply blended the delicate features of her mother,”

S-O-L-I-T-A-R-Y. Cooper looked up, what could that mean?

Taking the book, and putting it in his bag, Cooper looked at his watch, 4:00 pm. Visiting hours were almost over, he had one hour.

Fifteen minutes later Cooper was checked in and was escorted to the old woman’s room.

“Hello again,” Cooper said once he was in the room with her.

“I had a feeling you were coming back,” she said.

“You know what happened to my mother don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“What happened?”

“They threatened me not to tell,” she whispered.

“Who? Who threatened you?” Cooper asked quietly.

“The government,” she said.

“Why would the government threaten you?” Cooper asked desperately.

“They were doing illegal testing on the patients. Your mother refused to let that happen, she threatened to call the police. They locked her up,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Okay, but how does that explain you knowing about the note?” Cooper asked.

“Because I put it there, darling! Your mother asked for me to put the note in your house if she was punished for her actions.”

“But haven’t you been here for the past ten years?” He asked.

Annoyed she sighed, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have snuck out does it? I crawled out through the same window you crawled in through.”

Then it all clicked.

Getting up, Cooper exited her room, signed out, and walked to the side of the building. He climbed back in through the window, entering the library once again, but this time not stopping to grieve. Cooper walked out of the library and down the hallway. He remembered seeing a map on the wall during his visits. He looked at it and knew where to go. Walking to the flight of stairs he counted, one, two, three, four floors down. He made a right and saw a door. He barged right in. It was as if the room was waiting for him. The walls were lined with prison cells. The person at the desk looked over, confused. Then he saw her.

This is the story of how Cooper Anderson found his mother.

Diamante Sabuneti

Grade 10

The Quintessence of Life: The Importance of Family and Inner Peace

Adhya

Chandarat, Grade 9

“Do not simply exist. Live.”

This concise quote invokes quite a bit of thought about the way we carry ourselves on an everyday basis. It is far too easy to get swept up in the shambles of the everyday, and this quote shows that there is a difference between merely existing and living. Living is feeling every moment. Living is being in control of your own life above all else. Living is knowing that you are a part of something much greater than yourself. Living is loving the people that help you become you. This is why I chose this photo.

This image showcases two very essential elements of life and fulfilment that are specifically important to me: family and freedom. There’s a certain intangible feeling that is accessed in moments like these that gives you the opportunity to appreciate all that life offers. It’s almost as if the weight of everyday life is gently lifted away, and for a moment, you can truly enjoy peace. The mom and her two girls are the focus of the image, framed by the sunset. The way I see it, the true beauty of my image lies in the spontaneous, visually striking sunset in the background. This is a great metaphor for how life likes to surprise you with the most beautiful things in unplanned ways. The woman in the middle is seen truly enjoying the moment and is encouraging her young daughters to relish in this moment of peace too, even though they may not understand the value of it currently. The people on the opposite ends show how different people process various scenarios. One woman is quick to whip out her phone to record, while the other man is running through the sand and having a moment of pure joy. Moments before I took this photo, I was taking silly selfies with my younger sister, when I saw the perfect photo opportunity. Living in the moment is a meaningful thing for me, so I rarely use my phone, unless it’s in the case of saving a memory like this one. The people are silhouettes and the sun is not visible; however, this does not diminish the warm atmosphere that is still felt in the photo itself. The soft, delicate sand has a palpable feel to it that is shown through the tire-tracks lining it. This incredible landscape shot provides a sense of freedom that is generated by the open and clear sky, and the centre-woman’s pose.

My personal connection to the image is found in the feeling I get when I see it. The picture invokes feelings of peace and gratitude for everything in my life leading me to being in that present moment of time to enjoy a thing of beauty that I wouldn’t ordinarily get to see. The familial aspect of the picture also adds to my reason for this photo capturing the quintessence of life. Family is very important to me, and that connection between people is vital to our existence in this universe, aside from bloodlines; we as humans crave being surrounded by those who care about us. That connection and being at peace with ourselves is what I believe the quintessence of life to be.

Grade 9 Sloane Cowan

Quintessence of Life Ella MacDonald, Grade 9

We often find ourselves hurrying around getting as much as we can in the busy world of school or work. We must take breaks from this to have moments of peace and enjoy life to the fullest. In my opinion, this photo sums that all up. Here, I’m on vacation with my family overlooking the beautiful crystal clear blue water of the Indian Ocean. It was taken last March when I travelled all the way to the Maldives. The water is calm and the sky is a perfect shade of blue with not a single cloud in sight. This fits my insight on the quintessence of life because it’s somewhere that I can take a break to relax, while also stepping out of my comfort zone and having once-in-a-lifetime thrilling experiences.

Firstly, in this photo, I am engulfed by nature and a tranquil setting. It is paramount to relax and listen to the environment around us. In the background, you can see two beach chairs sitting side by side. This is where I would lie, dissolving in my surroundings and listening as tiny waves crashed against the shore like a blanket being folded over and over. The leaves of the greenery would rustle beside me in the occasional breeze, small birds would sing a sweet song softly, and the pitter-patter of crabs scurrying by are all sounds that become familiar when I think of the sereneness of this beautiful place. I think of these moments in my daily life if I am feeling overwhelmed with managing my time. I go back to laying on the beach and listening to the described elements above.

Next, you can see the defined marks in the white sand where the tide has risen and lowered, where the bird was walking was completely underwater earlier in the day. This is something that causes major perturbation to the islands and people of the Maldives. As the water levels rise they persist to take away from the islands. Which brings me to my next point. We need to not hold back and live our lives to the fullest, this relates to the waters eating away at the islands because time is eating away at us. There tend to be moments where we reflect and say, “I wish I would have done that”. This thought should give us the motivation to work hard so we can go places and do things we desire to do in our lifetimes before it’s too late.

Finally, the need for adventure is crucial for us as people to shape our lives and give us memories. If you look out into the ocean you can see the never-ending horizon. Us as humans have the desire to explore beyond what we can see from the land. When I look into the depths of the water it reminds me of all the adventures my family and I went on during this trip. Many one-in-a-lifetime experiences happened that I hope to never forget. I was lucky enough to experience the beauty of the aquatic life in the Maldives and took a major step out of my comfort zone. Overall, the most surreal moments I had were with manta rays and whale sharks. Firstly, while snorkelling, massive manta rays came over my head and swam around me. These curious creatures swarmed around me like a dog herding sheep. Additionally, I went on a journey to find whale sharks naturally swimming in their habitats. It was a very remarkable moment to plunge into the deep blue water and have a giant but gentle animal right underneath me. After these encounters, I am more willing to take risks because it may turn into something that I never knew I would enjoy

It would be beneficial to everyone if we lived our days by these ideas in order to have a well-balanced life of adventure and relaxation.

Addison Palmer

Grade 7

Venus

As an exhibition of the Goddess of Love and Beauty’s traits, this section will focus on an appreciation for inspirational relationships between individuals and the things they are deeply passionate about in life.

Brooke Lowry

Grade 11

Grade 10 Irene Li

Good Friends Can Get in the Way

Charlize Bianchi, Grade 7

Ding! Chloe Grey’s phone lit up for what felt like the millionth time that night, distracting her yet again from her science project that was due yesterday. She knew she had to get it done, but like all her other assignments, it was being turned in late. She found it so hard to stay focused on a dull task like homework when she could be devoting her weekends to training for the school’s volleyball tryouts next month. Ding! Her phone buzzed again, snapping Chloe out of her thoughts and taunting her to pick it up. The temptation was too great this time as she grasped the phone and opened the messages. As she expected, it was her friends Ava, Emily, and Julia, who were never found without a bright piece of gum crackling in their mouths. Chloe’s brow furrowed as she scrolled through the endless string of texts. Instead of the usual begging for the math homework answers or weird YouTube links, Ava, Julia, and Emily were texting back and forth, making fun of one of the school’s new students, Kim Allen. Kim was from a rougher part of town– this was well known, as rumours about her being part of a gang had spread through the school’s hallways like wildfire. She had a slight limp, and many students kept their distance from her. Chloe was partnered with her during a Geography assignment, and although Kim was tough and pretty stout, Chloe enjoyed being around her. Chloe put her phone face down on the desk and tried in vain to finish her homework, but couldn’t help feeling guilty about the cruel messages she had read. Chloe knew she should stand up for Kim, but at the same time didn’t want to upset her friends. She rolled her eyes, there was no way she would get her homework done with these thoughts on her mind. She snatched up her phone and irritably typed in a quick response: Y R U being so mean when U haven’t even taken the time 2 get 2 know her?

Ding! Ding! Ding! Texts immediately began to pop up on the screen from Ava, Julia and Emily as Chloe’s friends fired back defensive replies. The phone suddenly fell silent and Chloe’s jaw dropped as she stared in disbelief at the line of words beneath Ava’s final text.

You have been removed from the group.

The rest of the evening Chloe spent gaping at her phone, wondering whether or not it had been a mistake, and desperately hoping to be re-added. The minutes crawled by, and her dread for tomorrow’s school day grew.

The next day was even worse than she had expected. Chloe eyed her friends mournfully and miserably but still didn’t regret standing up for Kim. The week crept by slowly, but at long last, it was Friday afternoon. Chloe was in geography and was working again on her project with Kim and they chatted cheerfully while doing their work. Kim was a really kind person, and Chloe felt better about standing up for her - even if it meant losing her friends. The bell finally rang, signalling the end of the school day. She was nearing the door when Chloe felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around and found herself face-to-face with Kim, who was twiddling her thumbs nervously. They stared awkwardly at each other, both waiting for the other to break the silence, until Kim said, “I really enjoyed talking to you just now…Do you want to FaceTime later tonight to study together for the math test?” Chloe’s face lit up in excitement, and she smiled from ear to ear. They quickly exchanged numbers and headed their separate ways, both feeling as though their new friendship had lifted a heavy weight off their shoulders.

What started as a call for studying, gradually drifted away

from schoolwork as the two girls gleefully giggled the night away. By Monday morning, Chloe was looking forward to school as she eagerly climbed into the bus. Fifteen minutes later, Chloe was walking through the hallway, excitedly looking around for Kim, when she suddenly bumped into a group of girls.

She said sorry immediately, but her apologetic smile faded as Chloe realized who she was talking to. She stared with dislike at the faces of her former friends, Ava, Julia, and Emily, who glared back with looks of disgust. Chloe quickly turned away, but it was too late. Julia already had a snarky comment shooting out of her mouth, “How’s that geography project coming along, Chloe? Are you having fun working with that frog? She hops through the hallways like one, too,” said Julia, mocking the unusual way Kim walked. Chloe could feel her classmates sneakily snickering at the snotty comment Julia had made. Chloe felt her face burn like fire with humiliation as she glowered furiously at her former friends. She opened her mouth to hurl back a reply just as vicious when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Chloe turned around to find Kim standing behind her, her jaw clenched and a dark scowl on her face. Horrified, Chloe realized that Kim had heard what Julie had said. Knowing Kim’s rough background, Chloe felt a sudden jolt of worry. What if she lost her temper and hurt someone? Looking around, Chloe noticed that other people in the hallway were thinking the same thing. Some watched with keen anticipation, and others with deep looks of concern. Julia, Emily, and Ava’s cool composure seemed to falter as well. Glancing nervously at Kim, they sent one last dirty look at Chloe, then sauntered away.

Everyone was rattled by this incident and an eerie tension followed Chloe like a shadow everywhere she went. The gossip, whispers and rumours had spread, and by the end of the day, almost the whole school knew some version of the story, whether it was true or not. It was clear to Chloe that her old friends were furious that she had befriended the “enemy.” Whether they were gossiping or spreading lies, Julia, Emily, and Ava were doing all they could to make their lives miserable, leaving Kim and Chloe feeling dejected and alone.

It was once again the end of an exhausting week, and Chloe had settled into an empty seat on the bus ride home. She was deep in thought, lazily staring out the window when she heard a sharp crack of gum coming from above her. She looked up slowly and stared at the three triumphant girls standing in the aisle of the bus. Ava, Julie and Emily had cornered her. This seemed to be their thoughts exactly, as they crossed their arms and smiled victoriously at Chloe.

“What do you think you’re doing, sitting in our seat?” asked Ava.

“I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes already, and now you have a problem with me?” Chloe retorted.

“Well, your friend isn’t here to save you now, you pathetic lump!” snapped Julia, “You’re all alone and have no actual friends aside from that scamp, Kim.”

Chloe felt her face burn red, and a sea of rage bubbled inside her. “You couldn’t take the time to get to know Kim because you’re so stuck up and judgemental towards people who don’t fit your ‘criteria’!” She burst, “I can’t believe you have the nerve to talk like that behind her back when you can’t say a single word to her face!” The bus ground to a halt, and Chloe slung her bag over her shoulder and recklessly barged through the crowded aisle and out the open door.

Chloe was in a rage the following Monday as she told Kim about what had happened Friday on the bus. Kim was furious not only that Julia had the guts to say those mean things behind her back, but that they had been so bitter towards Chloe.

The next day, Kim pulled Chloe aside in the hallway. Her face looked different today. Her eyes were widened, her lips tight, with her teeth only slightly visible. She carefully pulled an object wrapped in cloth out of her coat pocket. Kim slowly unwrapped it to reveal a wooden slingshot with a leather handle to Chloe.

“If those backstabbers try anything like that again, they’ll be sorry,” said Kim darkly, “I’ll keep this on me when we’re together, just in case we need to use it.”

Chloe stared blankly at her in shock. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But we can’t hurt them…I don’t want to hurt them. We’ll get in trouble! Who knows what they’ll do to us? I want to end this fight– hurting Julia, Ava, and Emily won’t bring us any closer to that.”

This came gushing out of Chloe as soon as she realized what Kim was

planning.

“We may need this to protect ourselves… Look, I’ll try my best not to use it, but I won’t make any promises.” They both went to their separate classes, leaving Chloe uneasy with the daunting thought of Kim’s slingshot weighing on her mind.

The next few days went by in a blur, and eventually, Kim’s slingshot faded from her thoughts as Chloe began to worry about the upcoming volleyball tryouts. She had completely forgotten about the tryouts until now and they were only a week away! So many girls would be cut from the team, and Chloe was determined to not be one of them. She had devoted her weekends to practicing and it was all she thought about day and night. It was exactly what she was stressing about when she heard her name being called. She looked up, and it dawned on her that she wasn’t called, but instead, was being talked about.

“Chloe was half decent until she ditched us for that slob, Kim,” said a voice Chloe recognized in an instant– it was Julia.

“I know! Why would she even want to be friends with a thing like her?” Chloe’s eyes rested on the two girls beside Julia. They were Emily and Ava, who just about flanked Julia everywhere she went.

“Shhh! Here she comes!” said Emily in a voice just loud enough for Chloe to hear. She marched fiercely over to where they stood and firmly asked, “Why are you so mean to Kim and me? What did we ever do to you?”

Julia, Ava and Emily pretended not to hear her question and turned to face Chloe with their noses pinched tightly by their fingers. “Eww! Do you smell that?” Julia asked Ava and Emily, “Chloe is that you? I think Kim’s lunch may have spilled on you, you smell awful!” Julia fell to her knees and pretended to gag. Chloe, red-faced and embarrassed, looked around the deserted yard for help. Her eyes found Kim who stormed across the yard, slingshot in hand.

“Ahh! She’s gonna kill us with a slingshot!” Emily exclaimed sarcastically. She obviously didn’t think Kim would hurt them. But Chloe knew Kim was serious. She had enough of Julia and her minions and was putting an end to their bullying. Ava, Julia, and Emily laughed even harder, and Chloe saw the hatred boil in Kim’s eyes. From her pocket, Kim pulled what appeared to be a rubber ball encrusted with broken glass. It glimmered in the sunlight as she drew it back in her slingshot. Chloe stood still, her feet frozen in place. Her old friends, no longer laughing, watched Kim with terrified looks in their wide eyes. Kim wasn’t backing down, and Chloe knew it. The slingshot let out a sharp twang, and the weaponized ball sped through the air toward the girls. Quick as lightning, Chloe lept out in front of her old friends in a desperate attempt to shield them. Searing pain filled her hand as she felt a sharp slash across her thumb. Chloe heard screams and yells from around her, and she stood numb, staring at her hand. Her last memory of that moment was one of the girls saying, “Oh my gosh, she’s bleeding!”

The following Monday, Chloe was back at school. Students shot curious glances at her bandaged hand, but nobody aside from Chloe, Julia, Kim, Emily, and Ava knew the full story about what had happened last Thursday. Julia had sent her and Kim a message on behalf of the group, apologizing for all the trouble they’d caused and wishing her a healthy recovery: I’m so sorry we put you through this. You found it in your heart to set aside our differences and issues, and Emily, Ava, and I want to apologize for not doing the same. We miss being your friend. You didn’t deserve to be this hurt, and we hope you can forgive us. Get better soon. XOXO.

Chloe and Kim decided to forgive them and their friendship had been restored. They knew they would stand by each other through thick and thin. Chloe felt so fortunate to have such caring friends, but even so, she sat at her desk staring downcast at her sore hand wrapped in bandages. Advised by her doctor not to play any sports for four weeks, sadly Chloe couldn’t make the volleyball team, let alone try out with her hand like this! It was this longing and sorrow that stayed with her all day.

After school, Chloe made her way over to the gym where the tryouts were taking place. She knew she wouldn’t make the team, but Kim, Julia, Emily, and Ava were trying out, and she wanted to do her part to cheer them on. She stepped into the gym and made

eye contact with the coach. It was Mr. Francis, her coach from last year’s volleyball team. She smiled sadly as she watched his eyes dart from her eyes to the heavy bandages wrapped around her hand and back again.

“You still want on the team?” Mr. Francis asked her with a twinkle in his eye. Chloe nodded eagerly, trying to figure out what Mr. Francis was planning. “I could use an assistant coach… I’m on my own this year.” The whole team immediately crowded around her, chanting her name excitedly. “I’ll take that as a yes,” said Mr. Francis with a kind smile. She’d made the volleyball team, and she knew her friends, old and new, would have her back no matter what. Chloe was beaming! Although standing up for Kim had come with a cost, it was the happiest Chloe had been in a very long time, and she knew her sacrifice was worth it.

Grade 7

Su

Grade 7

Ode to my Headphones

Samantha Romero, Grade 12

On my head like a crown

You fit only me.

Like the sword in the stone

Only I can pull you out.

A golden tune

As if the sun is setting

But the days not yet ending, I will never take you off.

Blocking out the world

A space built just for me.

My world

Of vibrant melodies.

In you I seek my comfort

And in you it is found.

My sun, my moon

My stars and sky

Never leave where you are bound

Even if I seem unworthy

Without you my head feels empty.

But your battery runs low

And I fear the days you die.

Impairing half my hearing,

Like a newborn’s cry.

So bulky and big

If not on then in the way, I only want

To keep you safe. Preserve the one thing I need.

Another wouldn’t be the same.

The song is now ending, And again I push replay.

Our time won’t soon be up

I charged you yesterday.

Grandma’s Kitchen Liza Kiseleva, Grade 8

With arms that always want to hug, My grandma’s arms are snug, snug, rugs. The hardwood floor a tapestry of stories, Creaks loudly with the weight of countless chronicles, Lace curtains dancing in the morning glow, With the flowers singing on. The room was filled with the taste of freshly baked bread and aged red wine. The candles wick shining bright, like her light, never going out.

The heavy cream pouring into the cup, Like an endless waterfall of stories. Memories flowing in as fast as a cold autumn breeze, And the scarf covering my neck on the early morning walk. The fluffy rug covering my feet, Being tampered with for so many years.

A cup, a couch and so many days We can remember the spills in life, Like tea on the couch, Always staining but still disappearing, With grandma’s eternal love.

Grade 11 Kitty Zhang

Grade 10 Vanessa Bobechko

My Happy Place

Sienna Prizzi, Grade 8

Baking is as relaxing as the sound of waves calmly lapping onto the beach on a hot July day.

The fresh ingredients sit patiently like flowers about to bloom in the spring.

The flour is light as it jumps from bowl to bowl.

The loud mixer sings a cacophonous symphony as it stirs the ingredients. The pan shines as the butter glides on.

The smooth batter falls into the pan like a waterfall, quickly and strongly tumbling onto the rocks.

I open the oven and the heat washes over me like the warm breeze in a tropical heat wave,

Watching the cake S

rise is like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly.

The scent of the compelling cake coming together brings me back to my childhood.

The suspense of the cake cooling brings me excitement.

The eggs and sugar twirl together like dancers in harmony, making the fluffy buttercream.

The delicate feeling of piping the cake feels like when the white sand meets the ocean. As I joyfully look at the cake, the feeling of accomplishment fills my body.

Hanahaki

Roshni Karmali, Grade 12

You saw me coughing up red too light to be blood.

Scarlet like the danger it foreshadowed.

Ruby like the intense passion I held for you.

Vermilion like the venom that was poisoning me.

The color fluttered to the floor.

Light as feathers

Light as petals

Muttering, stuttering, I’m fine, I say.

Too late; too sudden

Red on the floor

Red on my hands

Red on your hands

What a raging red, a ravishing red, a ravaging red, It ravaged me.

Your perceived rejection ravaged me.

Now I’m lying in the roses –

Not fine.

I whispered your name.

Dying in your arms.

The stars are waiting for me, I said.

They’re shining brighter than your red hair. There is no love like the one that eats you from within. There is no love like one that kills.

Mia Gordon-Mazzura

Grade 7

Annika Mars

Grade 8

A Christmas Miracle

Charlotte Griffin, Grade 7

Have you ever met someone who hates Christmas? It’s the most joyful time of the year, right? Well, besides the sugary snacks, Christmas was the time of year that brought me the least amount of joy. Don’t get me wrong, Christmas used to be the time of the year that would bring me the most joy– especially Christmas Eve, when I couldn’t go to sleep because of how determined I was to catch Santa in the act. But everything changed after Mom and Dad’s divorce.

They divorced on Boxing Day of 2010 when I was only five years old. And ever since then, I never spent any time with my family on Christmas without starting to cry. I loved my dad more than anything in the world, and now I haven’t seen him in seven Christmases. It was like I was three years old again, and I had just gotten a new doll for Christmas and was obsessing over it. But then, just a few months later, it was like I had never even gotten it and didn’t care about it anymore. In other words, any tiny bit of joy that I have inside of me, anything that’s somewhat going well in my life, or anything that I am somewhat happy about; is gone! Down the drain! Out the door! And this year promised to be no different…

I was sitting at my turquoise desk in my bedroom, devouring a sugary red and green Christmas cookie with way too much icing, pressing down the sparkly ink of the venom into my journal. The lights were dimmed. It was like they knew how much I hated that night.

Dear Diary,

Well… It’s Christmas Eve…. Once again.

Yup….

That’s pretty much it…

Ok… Well… Bye, I guess.

There was a knock on the door… Three taps and then a “Chelsea? Are you in there?” Mom has a signature knock that I’ve learned over the 12 years of being on this Earth.

“What?” I asked with annoyance in my voice.

“It’s Christmas Eve, Chelsea,” Mom reminded me when she opened the door. She stood in the doorway with a cup of hot cocoa and a reindeer candy cane. The Santa onesie made me want to barf.

“I’m aware,” I told her.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Mom slowly approached me at my desk. My arms quickly hopped to my journal to cover it up. I had to fill the awkward silence before she asked me what I was covering.

“The Santa onesie isn’t necessary, Mom.” I snickered. She smiled at me without showing her teeth and placed the reindeer hot cocoa on my desk. She then slowly walked away from me, towards the door, before I stopped her.

“By the way,” I began, “I hope you know that I don’t believe in Santa anymore.”

I turned my head as Mom turned hers. We stared at each other, making direct eye contact for a long, dead silence.

Mom grinned suspiciously and slowly said, “Okay.” And with that, she was gone.

“Good night!” She called as she trotted down the stairs. I glanced down at my journal. I mean obviously “Santa” wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. Santa Claus was fake, and I knew it.

I quickly hopped into my bed and pulled my sheets over me. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind. I couldn’t believe I was considering that Mom was right. Everyone knows that some

creepy old man who lives full time up in the deadly temperatures of the North Pole works with a bunch of little mythical elves, rides in a flying magical sleigh, and delivers presents to children all over the world in one night, is fake. Christmas was fake. Santa was fake. Elves are fake. I whispered it to myself out loud to assure myself that it was all true.

“Christmas was fake. Santa was fake. Elves are fake.”

“Care to repeat that?” I heard a small, squeaky voice mutter. I immediately sprung from my bed, only to be tapped on the shoulder. My heart rushed so fast that I was certain that it was about to spring out of my chest. Moving like a robot, I slowly turned my body to face my bedside table. My mouth immediately dropped to the floor as I took a deep breath in, about to let out the loudest scream possible.

Swoosh.

And all of a sudden I found myself travelling at almost the speed of light. My eyes were wide open, but all I could see was black. Suddenly, I saw a small beam of light, coming from above. There was a tiny hole above the darkness I was currently sitting in. I sat up on my knees and forced my head through the hole, standing up onto my feet and pushing what turned out to be a brown sack, aside. I gazed around at the sight that was before my eyes and felt as if I was in a wild dream.

The lights from below twinkled on the ground, as people looking like ants scurried around, returning home from the night. The cold air from the dark sky flew onto me as shivers ran up my body.

Wait a minute…. No.

It couldn’t have been.

My head slowly turned to see a sight that only the birds would ever get to see.

“Chelsea Cooper,” Santa said. “Chelsea Cooper,” he repeated.

This had to be a dream. There was no way this was happening. My mind immediately went back to my bedroom.

Christmas is fake. Santa is fake. Elves are fake.

I looked down beside me, only to find a tiny-looking knee-height figure, winking at me with a sweet, sunny face.

I then glanced up at Santa and the magical sleigh that I was standing on.

“But… I mean… There’s just no way.” I looked around and slapped my face to try and wake myself up, out of this crazy dream.

“Oh, but there is,” Santa told me.

I felt a baby hand reach out for mine.

“You are who we have been looking for.” The tiny creature explained.

My eyebrows raised. Me? But why? Out of all the millions and millions of children in the world, I was probably the kid who they needed the least. I hated Christmas. I didn’t believe in any of this nonsense, let alone Santa himself. And now they needed me?

“But why me?”

Santa and the elf exchanged a suspicious grin.

“No time to explain!” Santa shouted all of a sudden.

And with that, he immediately jumped to the front of the sleigh and commanded his reindeer.

I tumbled over as the sleigh swooshed off and the cold air swooshed over my frozen face.

My eyes peered over the sleigh as the sleigh flew further and further from home.

All of a sudden, I realized that this may not have been the best idea. I had to do something. I had to stop this sleigh from taking me away from my family.

“Wait!” I yelped abruptly.

But Santa didn’t care to acknowledge me.

The tiny elf that was hiding in my room glared up at me and raised its tiny eyebrows.

“I can’t be here,” I told the elf. “ I have to go home. I have to go

back to my family.”

“But we need you! You are our only hope of saving Christmas.” The elf replied with great big, cute eyes.

“Believe me…” I looked back again, “ I can assure you that I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are, Chelsea,” Santa called from up front. He didn’t look back but called to me in his deep but jolly Santa voice. “Chelsea, I’m not sure that you understand the danger we are in right now. Christmas is at risk of being completely ruined. And you are our last and final hope.”

I still don’t think anyone understood how much I didn’t care. I wasn’t a character straight out of a Disney Christmas movie. I just wanted to go home and sleep, get this whole “Christmas” thing over with, and move on. I had no interest in ‘saving Christmas.’

“But Santa–” I was about to tell him that he had certainly got the wrong kid, but I was instantly cut off by a quick snap and out of nowhere, Santa was gone, and the sleigh was parked on a brown, snowy rooftop. “Wait!” I called out and flashed a confused look back at the elf.

“Relax, Chelsea Cooper. He will be back shortly. He just has to deliver presents to 650,000 houses in the next 2 minutes.”

I swallowed hard. No wonder all of the houses in the world get presents all in one night. And then it came to me.

“Wait a second, little elf creature,” I began.

I had gotten the two-foot helper’s attention.

“It seems as if Santa is doing just fine with delivering presents. It seems as if the sleigh is flying perfectly normally. It seems as if all the magic is fine! So Christmas isn’t in danger!”

I knew I had caught him here.

The elf quickly looked around for help, checked his little watch, and gulped.

“Now now, hold on a second, Chelsea.” The elf said at last. “Christmas is in danger because one of the citizens is in danger. And I hate to say it, but this citizen is a member of your family.”

I gasped. A member of my family?

“Precisely.” The elf assured me. “Your father, Chelsea,” the elf gloomily said.

“No!” I immediately interrupted.

It couldn’t have been. My father loved Christmas and would celebrate it every single year. He would go full out and would always win the prize for the best lights in the town. If my father was in danger, I would ride on a sleigh with Santa and the elves for the rest of the night, if that’s what was going to save my father!

“Yes, Chelsea,” the elf went on. “Your father’s Christmas spirit is extremely low and you are the only way that he will ever be able to save him.”

I stared into the big eyes of the tiny creature for a long, silent moment. My face slowly turned to devastation as my eyes filled with tears. Slowly, my sad look of destruction began to fill with anger.

“No, no, no, no, no!” I stammered. “If my dad was really in danger, then he would have called me! He would have told me! He would have come back for me!”

My knees dropped to the ground, and immediately I curled up into a ball and allowed the waterfalls to stream from my eyes.

“Please, child.” The elf placed his little hand on my shoulder. “Don’t cry.”

I heard a snap from the front of the sleigh and looked upwards, only to see Santa with a bag full of toys.

“Chelsea?” He ran over to me and knelt beside me. “Cocoa Glitter Cakes! What’s going on?”

The elf, who was named ‘Cocoa Glitter Cakes’ shrugged and slowly strolled away as Santa knelt beside me.

“Listen,” Santa began, “Chelsea, I just want you to know—”

“What!” I cried. “That there were no Christmas cookies at the last house! Like what do you want me to do about it? I don’t understand why I’m so important to Christmas! I HATE Christmas!”

“Chelsea Cooper!” Santa snapped and took a deep breath. His voice then got soft, quiet, and pure. “You know how we told you that your father’s Christmas spirit is extremely low and that he could ruin Christmas for all of us?”

I nodded and slightly lowered my eyebrows.

“Well,” he took another big breath in and a loud sigh out. “He needs you, Chelsea.”

There was another long, silent pause, as everyone sat in deep thought.

“Yeah, well,” I stood up at last, “I don’t want to see him!” I snickered.

“But, Chelsea–” Santa chased after me, “Chelsea!”

“Take me home!” I demanded. “Please! Just bring me home!”

Santa and the elf looked at each other with disappointment spread from ear to ear.

“Please!” I cried again.

Santa nodded, and without saying a word, commanded his reindeer, and off we went.

“Chelsea!” Mom yelled from downstairs. “Chelsea, come on!”

I rolled out of bed and shouted, “Coming Mom!”

Slowly, I pulled my hair out of my face and started downstairs. But before I could even reach the stairs, my eyes filled with tears, and I couldn’t help myself but allow the tears to flow again. My face became tight and scrunched up.

“Don’t cry, Chelsea.” Suddenly I heard a small, familiar voice coming from… I glanced down at the tiny hand on my knee. The elf looked up at me and smiled.

Almost instantly, my tears stopped and a smile came upon my face. “But, how did you get here?” I beamed.

“Maybe you should be asking someone else that.” The elf grinned again and tipped his little head, guiding me downstairs.

“Downstairs?” I questioned him.

“That’s right, go!”

Although inside, I was still upset, I followed the wise elf’s instructions. After he and Santa had dropped me off at my house last night, the elf had given me a sweet little hug, which allowed me to not be so upset at him anymore.

So I did as he told me to do and walked downstairs, only to have my eyes grow wide and my jaw drop once again. The man standing at my front door was more special to me than Santa. More special to me than anyone in the whole world. Although my eyes filled with tears again, these tears were good. These tears were tears that I had been waiting for 7 long years.

“Dad!” I screamed and ran into his arms.

I stayed in his arms as tears flowed down my cheeks and onto my dad’s coat. “How? How did you get here?” I cried into his coat as all of my words got lost, and only my dad could hear me.

“That doesn’t matter!” Dad exclaimed. He twirled me around the room as I danced like a star.

Although as I was dancing, I saw Dad in the corner of my eye, exchanging a wink with the elf, hidden at the top of my staircase.

Thank you. I thought. Thank you, elves. Thank you, Santa.

Next Christmas Eve….

Dear Diary, IT’S CHRISTMAS EVE!

Christmas is real. Santa is real. Elves are real.

I love Christmas.

The sugary snacks, the anticipation of Christmas Eve, the jingling bells… but most of all spending time with my family. With my dad.

Well, I’m going to go to bed now, talk to you soon :) Bye!

Chelsea C

I grinned and closed up my journal. I hopped into bed and nustled my sheets. I closed my eyes and smiled as I heard from out my snowy window:

Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good night!

Mina Matsui

Grade 7

Beauty Takes Too Much

Sydney Hansen, Grade 12

Beauty is power

Beauty is made of ideas

Ideas are innovative

Ideas are created

Created to send a message

Created to shape

Shape how my mind sees

Shape the future

Future is to grow older

Future is to have more pressure

Pressure is always added

Pressure to be perfect

Perfect without trying

Perfect appearance

Appearance is to be changed

Appearance that never truly satisfies

Satisfies the standards you set

Satisfies the growing expectations

Expectations can never live up

Expectations bring me down

Down goes my self worth

Down is my love of life

Life that was once simple

Life is saying i’m not trying

Trying to be what you want

Trying is not enough

Enough of the hurtful words

Enough of your comparing

Comparing what I need to be beautiful

Comparing myself to others

Others that have everything I want

Others who are better

Better at meeting your standards

Better at being good

Good is not what I feel

Good for you

You who always hurt me

You to fit the mold

Mold that is unattainable

Mold into something that feels

Feels hard to be enough

Feels like it’s impossible

Impossible to achieve

Impossible because of society

Society sets new standards

Society takes away the beauty

Beauty takes

Beauty gives

Gives…

Takes…

The Quintessence of Life

Leah Shenishevska, Grade 9

To me, the “quintessence of life” is about finding joy in the simple things and creating meaningful connections with others. It is about appreciating nature’s beauty, experiencing new adventures, and cherishing every moment. My quintessence of life is downhill skiing. I started skiing when I was nine and, let me tell you, it was a whole new experience! During the skiing season, every Friday night after school, my mom would drive me to Snow Valley where I would head straight to the slopes for my private class.

In this photo, I am standing next to my coach with a huge smile on my face. This picture was taken right after a total wipeout. But you know what? Even though it was a big fall, I got right back up, dusted myself off, and kept going. Sometimes, those wipeouts are just part of the adventure. When we push ourselves to try new things and take risks, there is always a chance of falling, but that is what makes life exciting and thrilling.

I remember the first time I got on the lift. I felt nervous and terrified because I had just learned how to stand on my skis without falling, and now I was forced to ski down a hill. It was scary to look down, and the hill seemed crazy steep and high. However, I could hear music playing in the distance, the lights were on, and the air was so fresh. The night was gorgeous, and I just fell in love with the place. This feeling never went away. Starting from the beginner slopes and progressing to higher and more challenging ones is such an amazing accomplishment. It is a mix of excitement and nerves as I strap on those skis and hit the slopes. The feeling of gliding down the mountain, the wind on my face, and the stunning snowy landscape around me is breathtaking. It is so much fun to navigate through forests and explore these little secret spots in the mountains. All this surrounded by the twinkling lights of the houses nearby makes skiing the absolute highlight of my week. Despite the challenges like the cold temperatures, fingers that feel like ice, and the discomfort of wet boots and feet, skiing is a one-of-a-kind experience. When I am on the slopes, it is all about facing my fears, embracing the excitement, and pushing myself.

For me, skiing is not just about the sport itself, it is a complete experience. After my class, I always look forward to yummy meals at the chalet, never skipping the chance to stop by the firepits at the bottom of the slopes. I love sitting in the Muskoka chair, taking in the aroma of the burning wood. It makes me feel cozy, warm, and relaxed. I also enjoy the beautiful sight of the little pieces of fire floating up into the night sky, twinkling and blinking until they completely disappear.

I am grateful for the incredible experiences skiing has brought me and the valuable life lessons it has taught me. I learned to value and appreciate the beauty of nature, the importance of practice and determination, and the necessity of following rules and being mindful of my surroundings. It taught me balance, coordination, and problem-solving while helping to grow my confidence, patience, and focus.

Life is all about exploring, experiencing new adventures, and stepping outside your comfort zone. Nothing makes me feel more alive and free than being outside, breathing in the fresh air, and just living in the moment. I really hope I get the chance again to go skiing this winter and relive this one-of-a-kind experience.

A Wilderness Wonderland

Lucas Juhasz, Grade 8

The Cabot Trail, a wilderness wonderland

With towering trees replacing skyscrapers

And water like light-tinged blue as the sky

Imposing cliffs rise high above the water almost touching the clouds

Standing there from the beginning of time

Masses of Birds gossiping in the distance

The cool wind whipping in my face, whispering secrets from faraway places

A twig snapping beneath my feet like a single firework, bursting into the sky

Water as cold as snowflakes on your cheeks

With waves launching themselves at the rocks

Wildflowers dotted the grass like a child’s finger painting

Their smell as sweet as rainfall after a drought

You can spot a whale breaching in the distance, disappearing

Like the daylight, and your wonderful day on the Cabot Trail

The Quintessence of Life: Very Far Away from Home

Tina

Hu, Grade 9

People prefer safety, stability and the familiar; everyone has a comfortable shell in which they surround themselves, a place where everything is the ordinary, with no fears or challenges lurking around, waiting to hurtle themselves at us every chance they have. But sometimes we will forget that it can also be a prison, where we are stuck in “the comfortable” with no chances to see the outside world, to feel the different yet exhilarating experiences and to take on the challenges that help us grow. This photograph perfectly encapsulates what lies outside one’s comfort zone, a whole world of hidden gems to explore. Whether a glorious, ancient mountain or a little walk around the neighbourhood, it will be a worthy and eye-opening experience.

This image features the beauty of nature somewhere far away from home, a mountain range covered in a fine blanket of green and an endless expanse of gentle blues. There I stand there, breathless, another stone frozen in trance, so calm and still. An unfamiliar spread of peace enveloped me, all my past frustration, anxiety and unwillingness were forgotten, like distant memories. This photograph encompasses the the quintessence of life through the memories it holds when I was challenged against my personal flaws and the valuable lessons learned:

Firstly, the image is a clear example of the beautiful things, whether big or small, we may discover outside of our comfort zone. These breathtaking views can be seen online, but it is nothing compared to the feeling of gentle breezes as you drink a cool, refreshing drink while looking at the surreal sights that nature offers. As we quietly descended the mountain after a long yet full-filling trip, the moment struck me that it was something so different and exciting. Our fears will often take control, but if we just take a chance, there is so much to see and learn.

Secondly, the photo shows the importance of determination and perseverance, as without them, the photo would never have been taken. Around halfway to the peak, large crowds of tired, miserable people had turned back, realising that standing before them was endless flights of stairs, standing there indifferently. Though we were inclined to follow the crowd, we kept going despite our exhaustion, allowing me to take this photo. In life, there will be obstacles in the way, but if we preserve and face them, our struggles will prove fruitful.

Lastly, this photo reminds me to cherish my childhood. When we are young, we wish to be older, the freedom of adulthood appearing so tempting yet hiding the truth of reality behind its deceiving visage.

Looking at the photo, I am reminded that I would have never been able to have such a wonderful experience without my mom and dad, who supported and encouraged me during the whole trip, while they had to worry about their responsibilities too. The importance of childhood is often something we realise too late, and the best thing we can do is to cherish the memories and be grateful.

This photograph displays the lessons I learned during the eye-opening trip to the mountains: the beautiful discoveries lying outside the ordinary, the reward of determination and the precious time of childhood. It captures the quintessence of life in a simple way with profound lessons hidden, like the small treasures buried within the large expanse of endless peaks, encouraging me to continue to work on my flaws and to cherish those moments that we only experience once.

The Day of Thanks

Alex Ferro, Grade 8

Sugar and spice fill the house like a cozy blanket. Family arrives with a caravan of hugs and kisses. Like bells, the laughter echoes in the kitchen. Thanksgiving Day has begun.

Food platters, like skyscrapers across the table. A vase of sunflowers recalls the last days of summer. The television, an extra guest in the background. Thanksgiving is underway.

Outside, the wind whistles giving goosebumps to my skin. A basketball thumps the ground like a riled horse. He shoots, he scores! The dinner bell chimes.

A cloud of sage and bay leaves envelop Mom. Dad is the turkey’s sentinel, a knife, his weapon. Pass the gravy, pass the sprouts! Plates and cutlery accompany and harmonize.

Thanks for family, Thanks for food, Thanks for fall, Thanks for Thanksgiving.

Quintessence of Life: Chilling on a Dock

Dylan Matsui, Grade 9

What does the Quintessence of Life mean to you? For me, it means to live in the moment so you can fully appreciate and cherish the unique thing you are experiencing in that instant. This picture was taken at Glen Bernard Camp in September. On our way back to the cabin after dinner, I became distracted by the sunset and so I ventured onto the dock to enjoy the view. The beautiful sun was glowing orange and illuminated the sky into an ombre of vibrant red, yellow, and blue.

For me, this photo encapsulates the Quintessence of Life because it represents several important life lessons, living in the moment, embracing your surroundings, and being grateful.

Looking at this picture reminds me to live in the present. After taking the photo, I realized that it did not look as vibrant, bright, or entrancing as the magnificent view in front of my eyes. I realized that I wasn’t focused on appreciating the natural beauty I was witnessing, so I put my phone down and decided to enjoy the fleeting moment while it lasted. I made a connection to The Secret Life of Walter Mitty in the scene when Walter climbs up the Himalayas to find Sean O’Connell. Sean is photographing snow leopards when he says, “If I like a moment, for me, personally, I don’t like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it.” This demonstrates Sean valuing the beauty surrounding him instead of trying to capture it on camera. I’m going to focus on living in the moment when I find myself reflecting on the past, or if I’m pondering about the future. A perfect example of this is when I worry about what I want to do when I grow up. Instead of worrying about the future, I am going to focus on having an open mind and try new things to help me understand where my interest lies.

The second life lesson that my photograph represents for me is the need to slow down and embrace my surroundings. While I was sitting on the dock, I felt a heightened awareness of the small things around me; the slight rocking of the dock, the sun tingling my skin, and the sound of wildlife stirring. Having these sensations and connections to my environment enhanced the moment and made me feel more immersed. I see myself applying this lesson in life by preventing myself from getting distracted by digital temptations like my phone. I want to be able to enhance the quality of my connections by giving my undivided attention to the people I am with and the work that I am doing at the moment.

Lastly, my photo reminds me to be grateful for everything that I have. While reflecting, I thought about how my entire family made it possible for me to go on the trip to Glen Bernard. They helped me pack and prepare, as well as encouraged me while I caught up on all of the homework that I missed. Without them, I would not have been able to experience these amazing things and learn these valuable lessons. Going forward I am going to make an effort to express my gratitude to my family. This is a similar connection to The Secret Life of Walter Mitty as the final cover of Life Magazine shows gratitude to all of the people who made the publication of the magazine possible.

Personally, this photo represents the Quintessence of Life because of the significance of many important life lessons that came to my awareness. This photo represents the lessons I take from my trip: to enjoy the moment instead of living through a screen, to focus on the environment around me, and to be grateful for everything I have and the people in my life

A Forest’s Splendour

Jamie Stefanov, Grade 8

Crisp air cools my cheeks

Earthy smells softly drift through the air

Fiery red leaves are rubies in the forest trees

Enchanting me with their eye-catching beauty

I trudge along the narrow path

Decayed leaves under my feet

Crunch crunch go my boots

Breaking the silence like a whistle

The wind chants a bitter song

Rustling the forest leaves

Birds flee to new lands

Flapping their wings vigorously

Worn out and hungry I arrive home

The smell of pumpkin surrounds me

I sit at my desk and begin to write

Capturing the magnificence of all I saw

Adriana Pazuki

Grade 7

Neptune

Known as the God of the Sea and the planet of divinity, Neptune represents ideas of flow and hope in life. These pieces of art and writing will take you on a journey of starting a new life.

You Will Always Be My Best Friend Claire

Serebryany, Grade 8

In an hour, you’re on the plane and I’m in the car.

Thinking about the last hug we shared which felt like an eternity yet still too short.

Tears flowing down my cheek like a river escaping a dam.

In a week, I’m calling you.

I tell you how much I miss you.

You tell me what’s new.

In a month, the leaves are a crimson colour.

I put on the royal azure sweater you gifted me on my 12th birthday.

The hand-knitted sleeves are resting on my skin keeping me warm.

In a few months, I’m not thinking of you.

In a year, I’m forgetting about you.

Memories drowning deeper and deeper in the atramentous and bitterly cold sea.

I used to braid your coarse dark hair and play in the field with you.

The plush grass tickling our bare feet.

The sky was a canvas with the most captivating colours and strokes.

Our smiles reached up to our ears.

It’s so odd, the quick and sudden turns life takes like a hawk shooting down to capture its prey.

I used to think life couldn’t continue without you.

But it did.

Even though it’s aberrant now.

I got used to it.

I hope you’re doing well.

Even though we don’t speak nowadays, You will always be my best friend.

Liv Templeman

Grade 8

The Half-Oval in the Corner of the Paper

Klara Gong, Grade 10

Drawn on every sheet, since I could sit in my seat.

A little half-oval, coloured in with yellow, it makes me a bit mellow. But at four, I wanted more. So I did.

Refine, reform, reset.

Scribbles turn into crafted lines that I hoped lasted for a long time. The clouds would cheer out loud, Praise me with craze.

But soon the inviting sheet started staring back, mocking, scorning, laughing at me.

The little half-oval, coloured in yellow - missing. Instead, to my dismay, the pages filled with gray.

Refine, reform, reset

I’m as tired as a teacher after dealing with a screamer.

At last, but not that fast, the half-oval at the corner of my sheet reappears.

The gray-filled sheet now bright, coloured, and filled with light. Reset, rest, refine, return.

No more need to mourn.

The half-oval in the corner of the paper. No longer undone.

The Sun.

Grade 10 Anthony Carchidi

Get Over It

Carter Saley, Grade 10

This is it.

Crouching at the start line, the gun blasts, Every joint shaking, I hear the announcers’ broadcast Tense muscles remember countless practices, nerves set in First hurdle approaches, “Get over it.”

Sitting at a desk, teacher says begin

Looking at the clock, so quiet you can hear the drop of a pin

Pen scratches across the page, nerves set in Second hurdle approaches, “Get over it.”

Holding a foreign ball, unsure of my fate

Pressure weighing on my shoulders, not in a great state

Coaches say “get better,” nerves set in Third hurdle approaches, “Get over it.”

Saying goodbye, watching them leave a now empty place

Cannot replace, now an empty space

Texting them is not the same Fourth hurdle approaches, “Get over it.”

Grade 7 Arren Shah

Grade 7 Yuning Du

L.I.A.M.

Mariella Tsiolis, Grade 10

If life was a movie, they are the lead stars, Two brothers, twin heroes, always starting up spars Six years before me, they paved my trail Behind I followed, in my own separate tale.

They performed big scenes, so proud and in-command I greatly wished we could stand hand in hand In my young and influenced eyes, they were like giants Living their profound lives while freighting all tyrants

But as the film rolled on, the narrative changed in plot From their thoughtful script of care, courage I got.

They stood by me, while I conquered scenes of my own, In their protective light, my confidence was grown.

Now their chairs are empty on our family set When they took on their next journey, I heavily wept.

The house feels quiet and forever still Laughter used to roam, now it doesn’t feel like home

This story is about growing and learning to be apart I am thankful for their lessons as they will forever be close to my heart

The heroes of my story, who clean up my life’s mess My brothers are the reason for my forever success.

A Poem of Opposites

Kaitlyn Fitzpatrick, Grade 8

People see the difference

There’s pity in their eyes

I see the whispers And feel the stares And wish That I could hide

I try to go unnoticed But walking gives me away

As you see the limp And hear the clicks The noise breaks the Silence and there’s Nowhere to hide

All eyes turn to stare

As they see the gold leg It sparkles

Like a lake on a sunny day

But I wish that I could Disappear instead

While all that’s true there’s so much more

That the eye can’t see

And there’s so much more than Just a leg

That makes me, me

I can jump, I can run I can skip, I can hop I can do everything Everyone else can do

There’s nothing that’s Going to make me stop!

There are no limits in life And nothing holds me back People should see more Than what meets the eye And look at the person inside I’m limitless I can soar to The sky!

Savannah Bratty

Grade 11

Saturn

Saturn exists as the representative planet of the God of time, liberation and the future, emphasizing the changes we face as we grow older and the hardship that comes from this adventure in life.

The Prophet of Pompeii

Charlie Davis, Grade 7

Oliver lay on his bed in his hotel room in Pompeii, a tour book resting on his knees. His family were at the end of their trip in Italy, after spending two weeks of his summer vacation visiting all the sights. In his mind, they had saved the best for last, and he was excited for their tour of the ancient city of Pompeii the next morning: Aug 23, 2023. It was one day shy of the anniversary of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, which had happened at noon on August 24, 79 A.D. At least, that’s what the tour book said. It also said archeologists found humans shelled in pyroclast. They had been buried beneath the ash that rained down on the city like dry snow, covering the destruction of the land and buildings. He kept reading and reading, eager to know everything he could. He kept reading and reading, wishing he could have seen Pompeii in its glory until he eventually fell asleep.

Oliver awoke to stinky breath on his face and something slimy dripping from his cheek. He opened his eyes to see the face of a big, black beast. The dog leaned in closer and gave him another goobery greeting.

“Where am I?” he thought.

He was in a small room made of stone with a wooden roof. There was a doorway and outside, he heard foreign languages, the clanging of tools and what sounded like horses clip-clopping. The smell of baking bread and spices he didn’t recognize made his stomach grumble. He quickly got up to exit and noticed a floor mosaic that had a dog image, and read Cave Canem. It rang a bell, and he swore he’d seen it before. Looking around he saw people dressed in coloured cloaks and leather sandals, buildings of stone featuring columns and arches, and a straight, cobblestone street. At its end stood a huge mountain that looked too familiar. He recognized it: Mount Vesuvius. He was in ancient Pompeii.

It felt as though he was in a dream but, at the same time, it felt all too real. So, if it wasn’t a dream and he had time-travelled, he’d better figure out the date. As a 13-year-old boy in his plaid pyjamas, he was pretty sure he stuck out like a sore thumb. He was tall for his age and wore glasses with plastic frames. One of these details was rare, and the other was not yet invented. People were staring at him, and his new dog friend started to whine. That’s when he saw a boy about his age approaching. He was small with big, friendly eyes and curly, ginger hair. The boy bent over and hugged the dog.

“Thanks for finding Nero. He ran away from me,” said the boy. “I’m Augustus. What’s your name?”

“I’m Oliver. Do you mind telling me the date?” he asked.

“Nice to meet you,” said Augustus. “It’s August 23rd, the year of the Consulship of Titus and Vespasianus.”

From his reading, Oliver quickly recognized this date as corresponding to 79 A.D., which meant he had less than 24 hours to warn an entire city that it would be destroyed by a volcano. Maybe Oliver could convince Augustus to help? He explained the situation and, to his surprise, Augustus believed him.

“It sounds outrageous,” exclaimed Augustus.

“ I know, but do you want to take that risk? I promise I’m telling the truth,” answered Oliver.

“Alright, I can help, but we have to get to the other side of the city,” said Augustus. “But first you need new clothes.”

“Let’s go, we don’t have much time,” said Oliver.

On the way, Augustus brought Oliver to meet his brother in the workshop quarter of the town. Oliver thought that, for 2000 years ago, they seemed pretty advanced. He saw trading and shopkeeping desks, medicine men, construction workers and farmers in the distance! Augustus’s brother was a shopkeeper and gave Oliver a cloak and sandals so he could blend in.

Next, they stopped at the central square, known as a forum. It was filled with statues of all kinds: gods, warriors, and political leaders. Augustus pointed out

a statue of the current governor, Julius. It was hard to see because there were masses of people everywhere. There was a performance going on in the middle, a battle of some sort. Oliver and Augustus scrambled across the square: two soldier ants in a colony.

Augustus wasn’t clear to Oliver on where they were going but seemed pretty confident. They started talking about the future and getting into details of their everyday lives: sports, education, religion, family. That’s when Oliver took the opportunity to ask about Augustus’s father.

“I forgot to tell you?” Augustus said. “My dad is the governor. He runs the entire town, and we’re heading to his office now.”

“Actually? So the statue you showed me before was your dad?” Oliver said.

“Yes, and he is our only way of saving everyone,” replied Augustus, before pointing to the large building in front of them. “And, we have arrived.”

The structure had a vast marble staircase topped with two monstrous columns that reached to the sky. Beside the columns stood armed guards, but Oliver and Augustus just walked right through. This was the moment Oliver had been waiting for, his chance to save the city and maybe find a way to get back home.

In the governor’s office, Oliver introduced himself and got straight to the point:

“As crazy as this might seem, I’m from the future and want to warn you. The volcano that borders this town is going to erupt tomorrow, and will destroy and kill everyone here.”

The mayor looked at his son in disgust.“You expect me to believe this kid? Nothing he is saying is true, he just wants attention!”

“I believe him. He knows all about us and the Roman civilization,” Augustus protested. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. Leave and never talk to this strange boy again!”

The boys were discouraged and left without a plan.

“I don’t want you to get into trouble,” said Oliver. “I’ll find another way.”

“No,” argued Augustus. “Come spend the night at my house and we’ll come up with a plan.”

They arrived at Augustus’s home. On the floor of the entranceway was a colourful mosaic of an olive tree with two lions underneath. It was the family sigil. The house itself was a square, two-story structure. In the middle was a courtyard with a small square pond and a fountain. Surrounding it were walkways with large wall paintings. The roof was held up by rows of pillars like strong tree trunks supporting a broad canopy. It was the size of a modern-day hotel! Servants cleaned and worked. Augustus introduced his mom and sister, dressed in jewels and gold, much fancier than the common people in the street. They shared an evening meal of fish and vegetables. After that Augustus snuck Oliver into his room.

“Don’t worry Oliver,” said Augustus. “It may not be that bad.”

Oliver didn’t have the heart to tell him the entire truth about how devastating the eruption would be. Now that he was here the destruction of Pompeii wasn’t just history anymore. Oliver decided that once Augustus fell asleep he would leave and do whatever it took to save Pompeii and his new friend. Even if it meant dying.

When the moon shone bright, and he heard Augustus softly sleeping, Oliver made his way out of the house. Just as he left he felt the first small jolt of the ground, signalling he was short on time. He had to think of something. If not, he might end up dying here too. Suddenly he remembered: he had fallen asleep with his tour book. Was it possible it came here with him? If so, it could be back where he had met Augustus and Nero the dog. The ground lightly shook again. He only had a couple of hours to get everyone out of there. Could he remember the way back to the Cave Canem building? He heard a familiar walk, and a tail brushed against his leg.

“Nero!” he said. “Can you take me back to where we met?”

Nero looked at him as if to say “Sure thing” and trotted away. Oliver followed. It felt like they were walking forever, and he couldn’t see where they were going when eventually Nero stopped. Oliver saw the Cave Canem sign and knew he’d made it. But he couldn’t see his book anywhere. His heart sank. He looked through everything again, and then he noticed the pile of hay in the corner. He dug through it like a dog searching for its bone. Finally, he struck gold. Now all he had to do was convince the governor. He asked Nero to lead him back to their house and they ran the entire way.

At last, they arrived. He didn’t know how much time he had but he could see the tip of the sun starting to break the hori-

zon. He stood at the gates trying to make a decision. It was getting lighter, and the Earth shook again. He snuck back inside and woke up Augustus:

“Augustus! Augustus!” Oliver said. “I figured it out! I found my tour book that has pictures! You just have to get me to your dad.”

Augustus was up in a flash and, with the earthquakes getting more serious, he led Oliver to his parents’ room as quickly as he could.

“Governor Julius,” said Oliver. “Haven’t you felt the ground shaking? I was telling you the truth! I have proof! Here.”

He handed him the book, open to a picture of a man and his child frozen by the pyroclast. Their bodies lay beside a familiar floor mosaic of an olive tree and two lions.

“It can’t be? Our family sigil? Is that me and Augus…” said the governor.

“Yes! I am from the future!” Oliver yelled. “I’m just trying to help. Everyone must evacuate if you want a chance at survival!”

This time Governor Julius believed him, sending out soldiers to order everyone to run away from the volcano. Once Oliver saw people starting to leave he joined them. Fleeing the Pompeii they knew, but fleeing with their lives intact. After hours of herding the people and running as far as they could, Oliver and the citizens of Pompeii watched the volcano erupt from a safe distance. He turned to Augustus to celebrate and, in the blink of an eye, he found himself standing in the hotel washroom.

“Are you ready for the tour?” his mom asked from outside the door.

“Almost,” Oliver stammered. “The ruins will be so cool….”

“The ruins?” said his mom. “I thought you were an expert. Most people escaped before the eruption and came back to rebuild it all. Apparently, some prophet warned them about it.”

“Oh yeah,” Oliver said. “How could I forget?”

Hidden, Yet All Around Us

Katelyn Paiuk, Grade 8

Hidden within our seas, Hidden amongst the trees, This world is an incredible place we believe,

But we don’t see what is behind the scenes,

The food tastes great, However it is processed and fake, What happened to all our natural food? Everything is being sprayed with chemicals,

Access to materials we didn’t have before, Now everything is man made, Toxic factories spewing smoke, Transporting items more and more,

Causing the air to feel thick and mucky, As thick as mud, Unable to breath, Feels like someone is strangling me,

I walk outside to spend time outdoors, The first step I take it hits me, Wacks me in the face, Smelling of toxins, chemicals and exhaust,

Sounds of machinery chopping down trees,

Building busy, crammed, hectic, cities, Louder than fireworks on holiday nights, Nature is crying and begging for help,

Can’t we just go back to our simple life?

Walking and shopping at local markets, Cooking meals at home to enjoy with family,

Living with less and connecting more,

You may think this world is perfect, But the consequences are mounting, Future generations are calling. Hidden, yet all around us.

Grade 9

Grade 8 Leah Grassa

Meaningless Anna Druta, Grade 8

Living is a means of change, of rise, of success, of death

Your soul does all but keep you alive

Alive long enough to save one more scarlet-drenched, metallic river of a person

Enough to finally stop hearing the blood-curdling thump of corpses pilling

Enough to put an end to the families, mothers, children, friends, and lovers cry salty rivers of despair

Every new dead, buried in a rush

Piles of skin and bones, lit on blazing fire

Rising high over the horizon line

Ever too fast

Ever too tall

Ever too many

Sight

Foggy, yet clear

A frosted, icy cristal pane

Enough for the glowing, sun-like embers of metal to effortlessly take centrepiece

Searing already frail skin, with pops and gurgled yells

Touch, masked with a stream of sweat

Death, taunting, pushing, waiting, patience all too thin

Those very same bone-like hands in the cane I hold

In the patients I treat

In the air, surrounding me In eternal rest In demise

Sunken, weak, terrified eyes

Flickering, leaping, quivering

Deciding between sobbing family

The doctor: me

And the skeleton in the dark corner, already reaching Already too late

Ac- cepted a fate, no longer in humanities hands

Thin, sickly, fragile skin

Sharp, knife-like bones distort

Disfigure, contort its own old figure

Swollen nodes, the size of fists

Blackened, numb, paralyzed skin

Breath

Short, frantic, pained, injured, gurgled

Helpless yet hopeful

Begging, for a nod, for confirmation, for life

Left with nothing but words floating in silence

Nothing but sobs to fill its opened space

Nothing was said, but heard

News of passing, not a first

Another victim

A child

Time

Never on my side

Running forward, never to stop

Never to break

Never to pause

My inspiration, my idol

My hopes and dreams

Every tick: another eye shutting

Forever lost, forever gone

Another lump, begging to burst

Burning my insides out like Pompeii’s own Vesuvius

Another mind-blanking fever: a swift yet constant throb in the head

Pounding my brain over and over with the bluntness of a hammer

Another day, another nearly numb limb

Pleading to give in, to give up

Another gruesome heave

A step closer to peace

Oiled robes, pointed hats, long beaks

The mask: a foul, murderous, vile, taunting crow

A show of end

A sign of death

Miasma, the devil right under our nose

Creeping, hiding, lurking

Our foe

Sneeze-inducing pepper

Sweet, calming cinnamon

Nauseating, roasted copper

A ghost in armour

A fake safety net

A liar

Rotting meat right out in the streets

Wagons, screech as their numbers increase

The hard, yet subtle galloping of the weak

The only light to see

Just out of reach

Consciousness gripping for dear life

As another leech, squirms, and fights

As another day ends

As another one drops

My own use fading: A candle burning out

My purpose flickering: a dying bulb

My strength nearing its end: an old toy, with little life left to spare

My mind tired

Eyes flickering

Legs shaking

Brain urging for logic

My heart, however?

Confused

Life is but a meaningless timeline

Filled with achievements, failure

Ups and downs

Hurdles and ease

Blood and tears

But, what if one knows the end is truly near?

That fear switches, mangles, converts

Faith is the last thread to hold

The last string to change

The final chance for the future

My final chance for the future

Does it truly matter if I don’t go another day?

If I can’t make another change?

If this work ends in dismay?

No, never has

The urge to keep pushing, despite the threat of curtains closing

This messy act we call our story stopped early for death’s glory

It shows our worth, our power, our true strength

Inspiring those who do not yet exist

To learn from mistakes

To shape themselves

To persist

That feeling of indifference

That disregard

That self-sacrificial tendency

Shows promise for change

Doubts blind

Hesitance kills

Indecisiveness, the blade itself

A choice must be made: Die in peace, with the hope of change

Save the half-dead, no matter the success

Even if I can’t treat

Can’t cure

Can’t truly save

I at least tried

Mine and many others’ names, never to be known

But the presence and power, to forever grow

Feeling those burning-like bubbles grow bigger on my skin

That urging feeling to give in

That sleep deprivation, and muscle weakness

All to be forgotten

All to be lost

Fight till the end

Fight for life

Fight death itself

And show others the promise of trying

Living truly is a means of change

Of death

Of ups and downs

Of Blood and tears

But that life can shift the universe

That life can revolutionize

That life is worth an entire future

It’s worth our whole future

And it’s up to us to use it for that future

Grade 10 Vanessa Gianikos

Grade 7 Elsa James

Victoria

Sari

Grade 8

Black Out: Death of Youth

Roshni Karmali, Grade 12

The unmistakable art

Imagine the idea

Match up, twisting last moment

Laughing, smiling, whispered promises

Last good people

Time for youthful indecision

Limp into future; forget heaps of histories

Only imagine tales elaborately misrepresented

Indulge what might have been

Never ask for forgiveness

Appearance of the aftermath of tragedy

Start mattering in reality

Without love, with disaster

The truth of running my whole life

First add a different path

Spark the flame

Live…existing… now.

Nadia Khan

Grade 8

Grade 8 Anna Druta

Noelle Ladouceur

Grade 7

Uranus

A distant planet but one that epitomizes heavenly power and light, including pieces on the value of openness and being welcoming to others.

Isla Smilovici, Grade 9 My Quintessence of Life

The word quintessence means many things. The Quintessence of Life may mean something different to me than it may mean to you. This project is about my Quintessence of Life, therefore I will begin by telling you my definition of the word. To me, the Quintessence of Life is the connection between two beings that signifies much more than what meets the eye. When looking at this image, one may assume this is a wholesome moment between a girl and her dog captured in a photo. However, the backstory and meaning of this connection is what truly describes the Quintessence of Life for me.

I vividly remember the day Coco was brought home to me. I was six years old, home with my grandmother while my parents went out to run errands. I sat there on the couch, not knowing about the angel that was to be brought home to me. My parents entered the room with the most precious animal I’ve ever laid eyes on. Coco sat in my father’s arms, eyes wide and full of inquiry. She waddled around my kitchen floor exploring the new environment that she can now call home. I resisted from introducing myself yet, allowing her to familiarize herself with the home. When I finally held her face in my hands, I was overcome with warmth. Her eyes looked into mine so deeply. It was right at this moment when I knew that I had found my best friend.

The next few months were rough. Countless nights of waking up to the piercing sound of a whining, lonely puppy. However, I knew in the end, it would all be worth it. Years went by, she grew a bit taller, and every day, she found a new way to make one of us smile and laugh. Coco was the light of our home and was my best friend. I had never seen an animal so close to being a human before her. She had adapted to our mannerisms in such an elegant way.

School was getting harder, and days were getting longer, but somehow all that went away when I held her in my arms. I would take her on walks through the park, and watch how she was so free in the way she sprinted through the fields. She seemed so alive when she ran. During times like these, I could never picture her not being healthy. I couldn’t think about it, I wouldn’t think about it. Until there came a time when it was all I could think about.

I’ve always blamed myself for it, how she got sick so fast. The silence of our home was shattered, now the room was filled with the sound of constant coughing. She was diagnosed with a collapsed trachea, a rare condition which makes it terribly hard for one to breathe. Coco was a fighter, though. Two years went by, pills every morning and every night, sleeping with her beside us, in case she started coughing in the night. These were honestly the hardest years for us. There was one month though, March 2022, where we brought up potentially deciding to put her out of her misery. However, my parents had a trip planned for the upcoming week, and we chose to discuss it afterwards.

One morning, my parents had already left for their trip, so I went down to get ready for school. I called for Coco, prepared to take her out for our morning walk. When I didn’t hear her excited footsteps rushing towards me, my heart skipped a beat. I ran upstairs, tears already rolling down my cheek, preparing myself for what was to come. I didn’t know what to do with myself when I saw her. I sat there with my hands buried in my palms for what felt like hours.

The grieving process was very tough. There was still emptiness roaming the home. The days were difficult, but nothing was as painful as the nights. The next few months were pretty uneventful but life-changing as well, and I can relate

this experience to the movie “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.” I took this time to think back on my memories with Coco and how much it took for me to handle a situation like this all on my own. I realized that on my own, I am very capable of handling situations most people might not be able to. I found meaning in my sorrow. I truly believe this experience is what shaped me the most into who I am today.

Now, I said before that my Quintessence of Life is the connection between two beings that signifies way more than what meets the eye. This may have not made much sense throughout my story, although my story doesn’t end here. Last year, I received one of the greatest birthday gifts. My parents brought me home a miniature Australian Shepherd, we named her Charlie. Charlie is the one in the picture with me. This photo was captured the day she was brought home to me. When I held her face in my hands and her eyes looked into mine so deeply, this was the first time that I felt Coco’s presence. This is my Quintessence of Life.

Cameryn Wilbur

Grade 9

Jahan Somaiya

Grade 8

Kuyaykim

Ashley Gioulos, Grade 8

They took me away, away from the sun.

“Kuyaykim,” I said, as I waved to my parents.

I trembled with fear, agony, and pain.

Thoughts of my family I wished never to go away.

As we arrived a blood-curdling feeling overtook me

I felt lonely yet surrounded

Isolated from the people I longed to be with.

The air blowing through my hair like a ghost swooshing around me.

My bright beautiful clothes, swapped out for cold, dull ones.

With every cut of my hair, a little piece of me forgotten. It was so silent yet so loud, all of my memories I knew it would never be repeated.

As they took us to the church i felt surrounded, like a seal surrounded by polar bears, glaring at me with hunger in their eyes.

Men and women holding crosses, barking orders at us.

I perched down to eat my food, gray, bland and indigestible.

In my bed, I lay.

Broken windows let the cold air blow in, a thin blanket left me so exposed.

I longed to be free, outside with my family, but I couldn’t.

my stomach rumbled, my heart ached.

“Kuyaykim ‘’ I whispered, remembering the old days.

Rocks, Stones, Sticks, and Sand

Nicole

Ciarelli,

Grade 8

Rocks, stones, sticks, and sand

The blistering hot sun gleams down at us

We begin to tremble out of exhaustion

Regret deluges into our heads

Enduring anymore felt like a battle

Rocks, stones, sticks, and sand

The sound of pouring water is heard by all

Resuming our trek with motivation gained

As worn-out voices quaver in the distance

The sound grew louder and louder

Rocks, stones, sticks, and sand

Beyond everything, the view was remarkable

Wonderous oaks as old as time delightful blossoms, still fresh of morning dew

Pretty pink petals still fresh of morning dew

Take the moment and taste it

Rocks, stones, sticks, and sand

From oak trees that reach impossible heights

To blue jays singing their sweet song

And one colossal waterfall plunging down from the sky