The Elixir Vol. 1

THE ELIXIR

Spring

Caelum et Terram

Team

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Isa Hasan

EDITORIAL STAFF & CONTRIBUTORS

Ibrahim Attaras

Yusuf Attaras

Husna B.

Fatima E.

Yousof Elwazeer

Zyad Elwazeer

Ali Hasan

Isa Hasan

Yusuf I.

Mariam Mohammed

Rana O.

Omar Ron

Unaysah Ron

Minnah Sarhan

Aasiyah Siddiqui

ART & ILLUSTRATIONS

Ali Hasan

Omar Ron

Unaysah Ron

Sanya Virani

Mujtaba Mirza

FACULTY ADVISORS

John Jeng

Radomir Dikosavljevic

Preface

Welcome to The Elixir. This is our inaugural edition, called “Caelum et Terram,” translated to “Heaven and Earth.” This edition started being written during COVID, and then due to the lockdown, paused production. We are pleased to report that we will be publishing an annual edition going forward each year.

I’d like to first explain the origin of the name The Elixir. The word “elixir” originates from Arabic, from the word “al-iksir.” An elixir, as you know, is a cure for an ailment. A panacea, if you will. We believe writing to be healing, for both the writer during the writing process, as well as for the reader. We believe poetry and literature to be one of the best natural elixirs in the world. To be able to connect with another human in written word format, and to feel what he or she feels, is the antidote to loneliness.

Reading and writing were personal elixirs for us during COVID, and as a result, you’ll see the evolution of our lives from lockdown to present reflected in the chronology of this journal. We start with poetry and prose in the section entitled “fear.” We wrote these pieces in the midst of the nearly two year lockdown, which left an indelible psychological mark on our generation.

Then, we move on to “solace.” How did we find solace during the lockdown, as children kept home from school, away from our friends and activities, and living in a state of uncertainty as to whether our lives would ever return to normal? Many of us found solace in nature, and you’ll read our reflections from our solitary hikes during the lockdown.

Finally, we emerge, back in society, in the section entitled “reesurfacing.” You see glimpses of our lives - our relationships, our travels, our hobbies. We also tackle sensitive yet important topics that affect us as young people, including mental health, child abductions, police brutality, and social justice.

Lastly, we include a few miscellaneous but entertaining sections, including “folklore” “novel excerpts,” (a composite of initial chapters of novels currently in the works by our writers), and “Playwright’s Corner.” At the same time, we sought to inform with a few “opposite the editorial page” pieces.”

Fittingly, our first issue is named “Heaven and Earth,” as our content explores our relationship as human beings with Mother Earth. It also examines the purpose of life and delves into the depths of how we perceive and interact with one another.

Our team has pulled together a phenomenal composite of original art, both digital and handmade, as well as stunning photography, that take our team’s writing to new heights. We hope you can feel the heart and soul we poured into every brushstroke and every click of the camera.

I’d also like to acknowledge the outstanding accomplishments of our writing team this year. We have had two writers self-publish their first books with #1 bestsellers on Amazon. Our team has also won honors this year such as Honorable Mention in the 2022 Chicago Young Writers Review writing competition, First Place in the Taradiddle Fall 2022 writing competition, First Place in the VFW Patriot’s Pen local chapter’s writing competition for 2022-2023, Honorable Mention in the Stone Soup Magazine writing competition in 2023, the Sunnyvale Public Library’s 2023 Journey Into the Future writing contest, and most recently, a commendation from the Mayor of the City of Santa Clara.

I’m so proud of this team for their hard work and dedication. We might be a small team, but we are as mighty as they come.

We hope you enjoy reading our labor of love as much as we relished in creating it.

Your Editor-in-Chief, Isa Hasan

Postscript: Our journal operates differently in some ways that others. First, we rely on peer editorial review, and therefore our editorial team and our writing team are one and the same. Second, this is an inclusive journal. Inclusiveness is one of our core values as a team. A literary magazine’s purpose, in our view, is to share the diversity of the human experience, which would be severely limited if we didn’t give a platform to our differently abled peers and friends. Therefore, every member of the team receives at least one publishing credit to their name.

LOCKDOWN BY FATIMA E.

At first I was like: I don't know

I don’t know I don’t know where I’m going to go

If COVID-19 grows

Then; It grew COVID-19 had an outburst An outburst of peoples Growing sick, Not wanting to pick This choice was not theirs.

Now I still don’t know, I don’t know when this will end. Just tell me

Tell me how this’ll end

At least tell me what’s happening Because I don’t know.

TWO WORDS BY HUSNA B.

It was a fine day during spring break I had gone out to play and was wondering which snack I should take

Then, I was told two words that changed my mood from warm to cold my happiness flew away like a bird

MY LIFE AS A GHOST BY

UNAYSAH RON

As I watched the news, like I did every day, there were words about a new disease spreading. I stared at the television, where the news reporter was talking about the virus like it was the most exciting thing in the world. But as the reporter continued talking, all I could feel was frustration. COVID-19, COVID-19, COVID-19. The coronavirus was old news, and everyone had been talking about it for weeks. Was that all they could ever talk about? When would the good stuff come on, like who won the newest sports matches and political tension, both of which were way more interesting than a virus. I mean, would it actually affect me? It was all the way in China, practically on the other side of the world! However, as I came to know later, what the reporters were talking about, it would affect me in many ways.

Life in the time of COVID-19 was kind of like life as a ghost. A lame ghost that doesn’t even have cool powers, like phasing through walls or disappearing. The kind of ghost that can see everything, but can’t do anything. I felt like that ghost. Sure, I could read or paint, or do whatever else to pass the days, but none of that would ever achieve anything. It was even more frustrating than boring reporters, especially when I realized that things that I was looking forward to might never happen. I was in school back then, and I had been sick on what I hadn’t known would be the last week. I didn’t really care though, because I’d just see my friends again next week, right? But as the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, and the months to years, I never saw them again. I still haven’t.

As I laid in bed reading, complaining to my mother that there was nothing to do, she told me to be more productive. I asked her what she meant by productive, and she told me I should learn to code, or anything else I wanted. I was initially apprehensive, but I took her up on it, and soon after, I was taking even more classes. Policy debate, HTML, CSS, Python, journaling, entrepreneurship, and many other classes. While I was doing this, my older brother was teaching other people, and while he usually isn’t very inspiring, he inspired me to do the same. I started with teaching a friend Math Kangaroo, and eventually moved on to tutoring more people.

After that year, I realized I could do anything I wanted if I put my mind to it. And while I couldn’t do a lot of things, the list of things I could do was a lot longer. And most of all, I definitely wasn’t a ghost.

Like always, this too shall pass Not for long it will last

Whether you face many problems or are failing a class

There is no need to empty the glass soon everything will be in the past Like always, this too shall pass

Your world will move on, like it always has You will find answers to questions you have never asked Whether you face many problems or are failing a class

Everything will go back to normal as it always has Even after life surprises you with a blast like always, this too shall pass

THIS TOO SHALL PASS BY HUSNA B.

MY SWEET LITTLE STRAWBERRY

BY ISA HASAN

Gingerly, my homely hands hold The silken, satiny stem that explodes like a small green bullet from the clogged brown earth. Dew hugs each seed, tiny patches, lingering from last night’s rain. My hand encircles the curved arch of the pail, as I gently pour life into the opened mouths of the rose-red lips. The stems, soft and furry, Bent towards the sun Arms, leaves, outstretched. Soft seeded bumps tickle my fingertips. I hold a strawberry to my nose, inhaling the ripe, fragrant smell Of sunshine and sweetness.

Tiny red buds hang Like heavy dewdrops on the vine. I pluck one wrestling it like a child from its mother. I press into it and juice flows Rapidly, blood gushing A crime scene staining my hands. My sweet little strawberry is crushed. And just as I brought it to life, tenderly making daily offerings of water and tending to its bed. In an instant, without care, worry or want, I have taken its life away. The fragility of life. As I step through the door, and towards the sink to wash away my sin. I drop to my knees. My tears flow.

BIODIVERSITY BY OMAR RON

In the desolate desert lands

Across the endless seas of sands

You may think nothing but cacti survive But other organisms attempt to stay alive

Below where the small buntings fly

Rare Saharan cypresses lie

The large ostrich likes to run

Over the ground baked by the sun

The striped hyena scampers around Looking for carcasses that can be found

Down south with camels galore

Large lions can be heard to roar

Flying above the hot hot sands

An owl dives and starts to land

Searching for its delicious prey

A scrumptious scorpion running away

All this and more lies on the sand

Most of it untouched by man

A CONSECUTIVE TAP BY RANA O.

Just a second ago

When my attention was elsewhere

My bird was found below

Like a little bear

Found a tiny ball

To entertain the cute critter

Tap, tap, tap

It goes in a row

He follows without a gap

Imitating similar moves

Oh how I long to tell him now!

“Grant me one more second!

Of your hilarious bobbing neck”

But it all ended when he flew away

WORK TO LIVE BY HUSNA B.

Eagles are known to be the largest birds of prey they hunt to eat every day but sometimes they don't find any food Then they don't eat for that day when they start to fee

ON INDUSTRIOUSNESS

BY OMAR RON

The ants roam about the lands

Looking for food to put in their hands

They find a picnic, a feast!

And the humans think, “What a beast!”

They enter their grounds

Going to the storage around

Seeing the fungal farm

Underground, so very warm

Lead them back to the food

Just to sustain the brood

These go up the food chain to brown bears

The ants try to attack there

It lumbers away, unaware

Across the world ants also roam

Past the beaches with sea foam

Ants play a vital role from fens to holly

To kill them would be plain folly

MOTHER BY UNAYSAH RON

The forest has great serenity

Always shrouded in mystery

Filled to the brim with diversity

The colours are so bright

It’s always an amazing sight Maybe even a bird in flight

The rocks are large and grand Only nature can understand Such glorious, beautiful land

The tall, grand, trees

So stunning are these Blowing in the breeze

Nature can’t take breaks A lot of things it makes Things like ponds or lakes

There’s a lot we take for granted

But nature can’t be supplanted We cannot take advantage Of all that nature has planted

KAUAI BY ISA HASAN

Jasmine flowers and ocean breeze

Salty sand and juicy pineapple

Tender scrums and ocean spray

Grass skirt scallops and pina coladas

Bliss.

A CHANGE

OF

PLANS BY RANA O.

It was an ordinary day Until I found, lying There, an unconscious prey left from an attack, almost crying

The animal I found Was called a squirrel Created a tiny sound

Then left me with a memorious twirl

A HIKE BY FATIMA E.

The tall Redwoods towering everywhere

The chirping of birds drifting in the air

The sound of water is distant But keeps us resistant

We stomp and splash in the river

While watching the stones move and quiver We climb big walls of soil Watching the insects dig and toil

The decaying logs don’t stop us And no need to make a fuss For nature should be left alone So others can watch and be shown The wonders of Earth and the unknown

And finally as we get nearer The roar of the falls Gets even clearer We now know what nature is And what it does

And what it gives Nature isn’t there just for us And thus we discuss That nature is here For us and all the animals near.

THE MOUNTAINS BY ISA HASAN

Winter

All around me, mountains covered with ice and snow. Majestic and stupendous, they fill me with awe. I pass several little snowmen all in a row. But soon pink spring will arrive and the ice must thaw.

Spring

In the spring, air is fresh and mountains lush and green. Mountains spectacular, gargantuan, and grand. Fields of lupine flowers everywhere to be seen. Fresh pine trees and rocky terrain cover the land.

Summer

I visit the mountains when the weather turns dry. The mountains are red like the California clay earth. We climb high, nearly reaching the sun in the sky. We find the spot where God to the mountains gave birth.

Fall

The mountain’s silvery crevices appear dark. At sunset. Like purple veins running across my wrist. Behind, the golden sun splutters and sparks. The fiery trees put out like matches in their midst.

Year Round

The beauty of mountains inspires poems and rhymes. They gift us the daily glory of the sunset. The challenge we can never beat but always climb. The mountain’s face is one I can never forget.

TARGET PRACTICE BY YUSUF I.

In ARCHERY you can use an arrow. In ARCHERY you can use a bow. Sometimes you shoot through a space so narrow. How to shoot at a target? Do you know?

Always practice in order to be successful. Remember, practice makes perfect for sports. When you shoot an arrow, please, be careful. An injury you’d not like to report.

BOVINE APPRECIATION POST BY

Gentle bovines, so sweet and meek

They graze on grass, nutrition they seek Nine gallons daily, milk they bestow

Voices heard, expressions they show

Buzzing flies, with their tails they swat

Their calcium-rick milk, vital a lot

Living on farms, so relaxed and slow

Providing us with more than we know

After milk stew, go seek the view

A cow’s resounding sound heard, a hearty moo

Without cows, we wouldn’t have much Milk, butter, cheese, and such

People would weaken, day by day

Without these creatures that gently sway The Olympics’ glory, it would fade At dawn, all would vanish, nature betrayed

In playfulness, cows often engage

Helping souls, on history’s stage.

YOUSOF ELWAZEER

THE COLORS OF THE WORLD BY

Everywhere you see, there are millions of shades, mostly vivid but sometimes they fade. They fill the world around you, you may not notice, but they always surround you, the colors of the world

HUSNA B.

We see them every day and night, No matter where we go, They sometimes give expressions, And sometimes help us choose which is better between two, They also give great impressions, About what you like They help us in many ways, The colors of the world.

And without them you would see, nothing, nothing bright, only black and white, And it would be hard to match things right. it is hard to imagine to be without them, as they fill the universe that surrounds us, the colors of the world.

BELONGING BY ISA HASAN

I’m swarmed by bobbing black fabrics sandalwood ittar whirpools and alien tongues volleying in the corridor. Mothers are hosts flanked by suckerfish, all perfectly impish laughing white teeth.

Teenagers round corners carrying armfuls of samosas and biryani and basketballs.

Rounded kufi hats rush by all puffy, cumulus clouds below hats, glistening beards drip from ablutions.

The booming adhaan reverberates everywhere - plaintive, urgent “Hurry to the prayer. Hurry to success.”

We line up, shoulder to shoulder, soul to soul, each a different color strangers in county, siblings in spirit.

Belonging means knowing no one and everyone, all at once. We prostrate together. We are one.

PLAY BY RANA O.

When I was finishing up my swimming set in the pool When my hand crossed my other continuously When all my limbs were aching

When I was trying to catch up to the others, I hit the wall for a rest I heard the directions for a game

My boredom was placated with the excitement and relief I gave my full attention to the instructions And released my soul to play

SWITCH BY HUSNA B.

A girl in the library searching for books on her list running through the aisles checking the books off of her list

Throne of Glass, An Ember in the Ashes, City Spies, Prisoner of Ice and Stone, and H.I.V.E.

She crossed off a few and looked for some too and when she found Artemis Fowl her eyes widened and she smiled wanting to see the mind of a villain who was the same age as her but in a completely different world she would get to be everyone going through the pain and the fun again and again in a whole other life she would see and be until it was time to move to a new life

BAZAAR BY ISA HASAN

The familiar blend spices and sweat assaults me as I maneuver through the saffron-laced bazaar. Shoulders crash. Infinite patterns like waves in the ocean. The crowd behind me is the tide that carries me forward.

The smell of sandalwood wafts by like a cloud as I pass the attar factory at the beating heart of old city. Alien sounds through tobacco-stained teeth. Outstretched hands offering bounties of lentils and rice.

The Bollywood gods gaze benevelently down at us. Gleaming smiles and chiseled biceps at every corner. Unaffected by the poverty and squalor of their subjects. Their only enemy: the constant anger of bellowing rickshaws.

I pick up an alphonso mango and its inevitable sweetness Seeps into my nostrils. They smell the way they taste. Fleshy, filling. My eyes close as I let its aroma consume me. I yank a shiny silver rupee from my pocket as payment.

Gleaming mirrors reflect crimson silk brocades draped over Wood carved panels, jade figurines, and glinting daggers. Silver-belled anklets twist like circus contortionists. Hanging perilessly from strands tied to decaying wooden posts.

The myna’s desperate cry echoes. She never sleeps, it seems. She assumes her role as the city’s alarm clock with relish. Even now, near dusk, she refuses to be drowned out by the sounds Of wedding dhols that beat for hours into the warm summer night.

My mind drifts into thought as I trace my foot in the dust. Creating a cloud around me, filling my nose with the scent of the country. Always hot, always smelling like a mix of diesel fuel and burned crops. I reach for a Pepsi hourglass and it quenches my thirst for a time.

Every stall is a poem, every vendor its eloquent bard. Weaving an intricate elixir designed to elicit Intoxicated rivers of rupees. Every inebriate wanting The explosion that alights every emotion and sense.

MISSING BY ISA HASAN

The familiar blend of spices, sandalwood, and sweat wafts through the air as I pass strangers in the street who bump into me as I maneuver through the market.

I lean against the school’s crumbling wall. I’m early. I trace my foot in the dust, creating a cloud that fills my nose with the country’s hot scent of diesel fuel and burned crops. The myna bird, the city’s alarm clock, still chirps.

***

She deftly hops out of the rickshaw, lugging her school bag behind her. Her petite frame bends down to adjust the silver anklet above her leather-clad foot.

The rickshaw jostles away. I hear the clanging of her tiffin against her hip as she approaches.

Suddenly, the tiffin’s rhythmic reverberation is silenced. The cheerful tinkling of the silver belled anklet is muzzled. A hush falls over place. She is gone.

***

I see her join her sisters in a beautiful garden; a special heaven for India’s 46 million missing girls. They are laughing and holding hands. No one bothers them here.

SINCERITY BY RANA O.

Oh I am really really sorry I apologize the most Just please don’t get mad!

I know I shouldn’t have taken Your necklace without permission Are you angry with me?

I know, even if I took, your most prized possession I should have shown more care It justs slipped out of my hand, don’t get mad!

But the gems are still here Even though the necklace is dust I can fix it, are you sad?

APOLOGIES BY HUSNA B.

I apologize for eating your piece of cake I felt really bad when I saw tears in your eyes I knew it wasn't for me to take

Please forgive me my blood sugar was low I needed to eat something sweet and was afraid you would say no

and now the damage is done and you wont talk to me anymore so I wanted to say I am sorry, Edmund I promise this won't happen anymore

I ate your piece of cake that was freshly baked it was on a plate and you were running late

It was a chocolate cake so nice and rich

It was soft as a sponge

You were at work

I was hungry and I knew you would say no

I’m sorry, but it tasted so good the frosting melted in my mouth

THE SYMPHONY BY ISA HASAN

In the symphony of America’s sordid tale of blood-stained birth, Amidst the Aeolian notes of sorrow and resilience, A chorus of voices rises like ancient rivers, unwavering, A testament to the strength of the Black ancestors.

Through wretched melodic tapestry of our history, they weave, Knotted threads of struggle and triumph entwined, A proud legacy born from shackled, holy pasts, Fulfilled prophecy of broken looms of oppression.

Within its confines the cagebird continues to sing, Yet Black lives bear the weight of the ironclad cage, Prey to Lady Justice, whose blindfold conveniently slips, One eye seals fates of disparate destinies for same transgressions.

Incarcerated hearts steadily beat unabashed songs of resolve, A song of prayer in the names of the Lord and prison reform. Through the unyielding steels walls of confinement, persists, Unsilenced, chants of “we shall overcome” echo in historic halls.

The weeping heart song reverberates like a clarion call, Breaking through barriers and bigotry, shadows and suspicion. A profound cry in remembrance of slavery’s chains, That the fight is not yet won, that the shackles still bite.

In unity, we seize our role as this rhapsody’s audience. We succumb to the spoken word truths, the tales untold, In the embrace of empathy’s tune, we shall demand a new dawn, A heady jazz beat of a shared future, where equity at last prevails.

For in the mosaic of black and white keys, Black and White, Their bluesy voices stand as essential notes, the major key. Their melodic significance ever unyielding, ever undeniable, The crashing climax a battle-hymn cry of hope, unity, and change.

PEACE BE UPON YOU BY ALI HASAN

Peace means to trust. That everything is okay.

Peace means no war. For that I always pray.

Peace means smiling kids. Who are not shaking scared.

Peace means a big hug. And feeling someone cared.

Peace means I live in mine. While you live in yours.

Peace means building homes. Of brick. Not iron swords.

Peace means no bullying. And no calling names.

Peace means happiness. We are all the same.

Peace means to share. Whatever that is yours.

Peace means to care. To heal and look for cures.

Peace means no riots. No guns and no tanks.

Peace means no bombs. No concentration camps.

Peace means we live. In harmony so true.

Peace be upon us. Peace be upon you.

THE TALK BY ISA HASAN

Don’t go to the mall at night. Don’t hang out there with friends that are white.

Don’t hang around on the street. Even if you have someone to meet.

Don’t give sass to an officer. Say “yes sir” and always be polite. Don’t argue no matter what. Even if you think you are right.

Don’t delay pulling over. When the police turn on their lights. Keep your hands on the wheel. Don’t move at all, sit tight.

Don’t reach for your wallet. Don’t reach for the glove compartment. Obey every single command. Don’t make any sudden movement.

Don’t go jogging alone. You don’t want to end up like Ahmaud. Don’t sell anything anywhere. Don’t be like Eric and get shot.

Don’t forget to follow traffic rules. You don’t want to be Daunte. Don’t ever use a cell phone. If you do you’ll be dead like Andre.

Don’t ever walk home from the store. We grieve for Manuel to this day. Don’t leave your front door open. Atatiana was shot this way.

Don’t ever use the stairwell. You may end up like Akai. Don’t play with toy guns. You’ll be shot like Tamair Rice.

Don’t ever have bipolar. Don’t have depression too. They’ll kill you for mental illness. Look at Tanisha and Daniel Prude.

Don’t be a Black teenage boy. Don’t you know that’s a crime?

A.G. was shot with his arms up. Only 13, and he lost his spine.

Don’t say that “Black Lives Matter.” They’ll call you a left-wing nut. Don’t mention Trayvon or George Floyd. They’ll say, “Go back to Africa to your hut!”

Don’t say that the police kill us. Even though it’s true. At a rate twice that of white people. You always have to bleed blue.

Don’t ever ask for justice. They’ll call you angry and scorned. Don’t tell them how you fear for your babies. And the burden that will have to be born.

Don’t worry about your men and boys. Wondering if they’re return home today. In fact, just don’t be Black at all. Don’t all lives matter anyway?

SELF-ESTEEM BY MINNAH SARHAN

When I’m by myself and I close my eyes

I’m a star resplendent in the moonlight

I’m a sun incandescent, burning bright

I’m a bluebird soaring in boundless flight

I’m a rabbit frolicking in the night

I’m a songtress enchanting under spotlight

I’m a princess dwelling in castles of light

I’m a confection, saccharine delight

I’m a butterfly that has taken flight

I’m a soldier ready to valiantly fight

I’m a cunning fox evading all sight

I’m an author solacing in words I write

I’m a pilot embarking on a flight

I’m a knot inexorably strong and tight

Yet upon reopening my eyes I see

That ultimately, I only care to be me.

THE THORNE CHRONICLES, VOLUME 1

CHAPTER 1 BY OMAR RON

The woods were unforgiving, dangerous, and haunted. Or so they said. I didn’t know anything about that but knew there was treasure. Let me explain. I had heard from my cousin that his father’s friend’s cat’s former owner’s fifth cousin thrice removed learned that there was treasure in the forest from a scruffy old salesperson.

I was walking along in the forest when I saw a cave on the side of a mountain. It must be where the treasure is hidden! I walked confidently into the cave, my bravado quickly escaping when the cave door closed behind me. I looked nervously around the cave and lit a torch, casting ominous shadows across the walls. In the corner, a faint glitter caught my eye. A gem! I reached up but could not get it. I picked up a rock and threw it at the onyx, hoping to dislodge it. It struck the black gem, and suddenly the ground opened up. I screamed as I went down but landed on a patch of pillows on the ground. Two large dogs with flaming eyes circle me, teeth gnashing. I pulled out my dagger and brandished it at the hellhounds, hoping for them to back off. They didn’t. I backed away slowly while the monsters paced. Then they pounced. I held out my dagger like a shield as if it could save me from the monsters. I closed my eyes, but the whining of the dogs told me that I survived. They ran away, tails between their legs, through a wall.

A few minutes later…

I walked along the hallway, past statues of mythical creatures and people, across a bridge over a raging river of lava, and ended up in front of a… wall. I looked at the wall, tried to stick my hand through the wall, and attempted to find some weak points. I didn’t succeed. In frustration, I threw my dagger at the wall. It passed right through. I stood up in wonder as the wall started to fall, a new passageway unlocked. I walked through the elaborately decorated passage. The floor was tiled gold and the white walls were crowded with paintings, taxidermied animals, and statues. High above, the roof was dotted with chandeliers and depictions of birds in flight. At the end was a staircase descending downward. I followed it hoping for a way out. It was pitch black. I lit my torch on fire and dropped it in surprise as it briefly illuminated a scruffy old salesperson standing next to a treasure chest. I picked up the torch, looked ahead, and saw that the scruffy old salesperson was a person with long, pointy ears and much taller than me. “Finally I get to meet you,” he said.

“Who are you?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I pointed my dagger at him.

He laughed and brushed it aside like a stick. “Don’t you know that silver can’t hurt elves? Or at least high elves.”

“Who are you?” I inquired again, my voice shaking with fear.

“I am Ilphas Elawynn. Now come and I will show you your fate.”

“Why would I listen to you?”

“Because you have no choice. Today, the light has been aligned, and my power is boundless!”

A rumbling sound emanated from the walls. And the ground shook, forcing me to the ground. “I’ll have to do this quickly,” he mumbled.

He raised his hands, and two beams of light pierced the earth meeting in a spot on the ground marked by a large chunk of amber. The rumbling grew closer knocking me off my feet yet again.

“Come on, go faster,” urged Ilphas, sweat appearing on his brow.

“At last!” he exclaimed as light engulfed both of us.

His triumph quickly faded as a sword stabbed where his heart was a moment ago. In runes written on the side was the name “Malice.” How could I read runes? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. I had the feeling of falling. I looked around and saw only clouds floating around. The cave was nowhere to be seen. I tried to scream but the air rushing into my lungs prevented me. After what felt like hours of falling but must have been minutes I saw the ground rushing up toward me. I braced myself for impact and fell in a heap on top of a field of grass. Alive. I looked around in surprise. The sky was dark, even though it was just morning when I left home. There was a large stadium covered by grass between two hills. Shouts echoed across the green landscape, with one voice rising over the rest. “Welcome to the one hundred and forty-second quint annual event of the pangolin badger games!” a voice announced, “I’m Kebert. I’m sure you all are just waiting for the action, I know I am, but first, let me introduce the fifty participants!”

The audience roared with applause and the words were drowned out. I walked closer for a look at the action. I arrived at a ticket booth with a bored-looking person. “Ticket please.” he intoned.

“Tickets for what?” I replied, confused.

“Have you been living under a rock or what? The pangolin badger games of course! Biggest occasion this year!”

I turned to walk away when he said, “What about your tickets?”

“I don’t have any.”

“You can buy them for only twenty-six silvers!”

“Twenty-six what?!” I said turning around

“Silvers. We can exchange for other currencies as well,” he said sounding even more bored.

“Where am I anyway?”

“The Empire. Now, if you're not planning on buying a ticket, I suggest you leave.”

I turned away, walking across the large grassy field and onto a rocky slope leading to a village. It was large with many buildings. I seemed to be nearest to the store side where many people were walking about. I gingerly stepped down the slope, cautious of falling, and finally entered the village itself. It was much bigger up close. I could make out many store names through the crowds including Potions and Lotions, The Ancient Manticore. Suddenly a voice called behind me, “Hey, you!”

I turned. “Yeah you, in the blue pants!” The voice called again. The person finally caught up. She was a woman in her thirties, with short black hair, and long nails. “You’re Wymond Thorne Right?”

“Yes?”

“ I’ve been searching all over for you. You weren’t at your parent’s estate nor on the grounds…”

She trailed off but I was stuck on one phrase. Parent’s estate? But they didn’t live here…

MISTILERY, THE MAGIC GHOST CAT CHAPTER 1 BY RANA O.

“Mommy!” I yelled. It was eight a.m. in the morning and I was lying on the couch reading the book The Chronicles of Narnia.

“Yes dear?”

“Is there art class today?”

“No,” she answered, “BUT, can I ask you a favor? Will you clean yesterday's dishes for me please?”

“Okayyy” I hesitantly said. I jumped off the sofa and headed down the stairs to the kitchen. As I slowly rubbed and scrubbed the plates I heard my parents talking in the living room.

“What are we going to do with the house grandmother left?” my mom queried.

“Why don’t we move in?” my dad requested.

“Do you think the girls would like that?”

“I don’t know.” They suddenly stopped talking. Mom came into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee for herself. I continued to wash the platters. That night, at dinner, everyone was at the table. Daddy brought up the topic of grandma’s old house again. He told us we might move in. Of course Viola, my crazy sister, adored the idea of going to a huge house with her four-year-old mind, but I hated it! At the park, I’ve always heard rumors about how the large residence on Liliput Ave. was haunted, which happens to be grandma’s old home. Regarding my fear of ghosts, that house was a big no for me. I stayed silent while Viola planned how she was going to decorate her room. Mommy asked me what I thought of the house.

“I don't know...I’d rather stay here.”

“Think of the bright side, you’ll get to have your own office!” Mommy tried to persuade me, but I didn’t fall for it. I climbed up my bunk located on top of the living room to sleep.

The next morning my family got ready to tour grandma’s house and see how we needed to renovate it. Everyone was in a hurry.

“Sereena! Viola! Seerena I said !!!!!!” My mom was trying to wake us up as she fed my baby brother, Kyle. “Wake up you guys, and get ready, we’re leaving!”

“Leaving where, mom?” I said sleepily.

“To take a look at our new home! Come on, get dressed!”

“Ok” I got up reluctantly. I peeked into Viola’s room, and she was literally wrapping herself with bows. I brushed my teeth and got dressed. My dad called.

“Come on girls, I’m waiting.”

“OKAYYY,” I said as I yawned. When everyone got into the car, Daddy started driving. I felt my heart bumping up and down in my body as we got closer to our destination. The thought of ghosts brought cold shivers down my bones as it pushed me into piercing despair. How could I live with ghosts?! Drink with them, eat with them, sleep with them, and play with them! No way, no! I can’t stand a second with them! When we arrived, I refused to leave the car, for you can’t walk right into a maze of evil, right?

“Sereena, you aren’t coming?” Viola interrogated.

“Umm...nah! I’d rather stay in the car.” I threw my leg over the other and opened my phone.

“Oh come on scaredy cat! I know you’re afraid of ghosts, get out of the car!”

“No.”

“Ughh, fine, weirdo!” She snorted and walked away.

“Viola!” Mom screamed sternly, “Act nicely to your sister, she’s older than you!”

“Ok.” Her overbearing action turned into embarrassment.

I decided to get out of the car. Tentatively, I grabbed my bag and hopped off. Click clock! My dad opened the door of the house. Viola grabbed my arm and pulled me vigorously towards the entrance. All my family entered at once. We were all astonished as my sister said, “Wwwwoooowwww!”

“It’s so beautiful, with such intricate details!” I exclaimed. As we walked around the house, I noticed the big spiral staircase leading to the second floor. There were paintings and portraits hanging on the rusty walls. As well as it’s beauty, the house was super damaged. It had a lot of renovation to be done. My hands turned black as I brushed them on the staircase. Suddenly, the darkness on my palm disappeared and turned to a floating black bubble with red crossed eye-like things. It vanished out of sight and flew towards a crack in the wall.

This frightened me tremendously. I was certain the house had something eerie about it. I ran towards the direction of the bubble and peered through the dent. I saw some type of creature that was white. It had pointy ears like a cat, except that it stood on two legs instead of four. When that creature too saw the bubble, it’s eyes turned a glowing cyan color. An outline around the bubble appeared, it was the same color as the creature’s eyes. The bubble tried to escape but somehow it couldn’t move. It was like that cat thingy was controlling it. A while passed and I was still peering.

“Sister, are you coming? We're leaving!” Viola screamed from the door of the house.

“Ok! I’m coming!” I peered back in the hole. This time the bubble’s eyes had turned a creamish white color and had a white smile too. It was somehow smiling to the cat’s orders. I turned my head and ran as fast as I could trying to escape from this creepy house. I slowed my-

self down by clinging onto the large wooden doors. I was exhausted from all that running.

When we finally arrived at home, I was completely pale. Thinking more and more about it, I got even more colorless. At dinner I couldn’t eat anything. I was still in shock about what happened today.

The next morning my mom called me to breakfast, but dad wasn’t at the table.

“Mom, where is dad?” I asked.

“He went to get hardware supplies, sweetie.”

“Why? Aren’t we hiring workers?” I guessed he went to go get supplies with the renewing of Grandma’s house.

“No. They refused to work at the house. They think it includes some peculiar organisms.” My mom said with some type of disappointment.

“Yaa,” My sister teased, “They're scared of ghosts too, just like you, booo!”

“Viola! Stop acting mean and finish your egg. Come on!” Mom finally screamed at her.

“Okaaayyy.”

Later, that afternoon, we visited grandma’s house again and started repairing. I was supposed to check if the lights were working, that was the worst job. I felt that one by one, each muscle was getting paralyzed from terror. Ghosts, dark room, weird and evil creatures - no way! This was too much to handle, but there was nothing I could do now. I had to explore the house and see if the lights worked. I managed to get through many rooms without abnormal things, except this one.

“BOO!”

“AGH” I screamed, “What was that for ha?” I realized my sister was in the room trying to scare me. About a month passed without any of the creepy things that happened. We had done a lot of fixing in the house. Everything was done, except the cleaning. Now I was at the mansion dusting the staircase when I heard an EEWWWEEWE WEE EWWE sounds. I thought they were some type of machine or vacuum my mom got to clean, so I ran down the staircase to the kitchen. My mom was wiping the cabinet’s corners when I entered.

“Mom, did you hear that noise?”

“No dear, what noise?”

“Umm…,” I froze, “N-e-ver-vver-mi-ii-nia-ind.” I ran back up to where the dent was, the dent in which I saw the bubble and the cat. The cat was there again, but this time sleeping, curled up on a cushion. I quietly tried to find an entrance to the room.

Then I realized...the bookshelf. There was one book on it that I couldn’t take off. I thought it was glued, but maybe not. I tried taking it out again, but it didn’t budge. After 3 more tries, it smoothly slid to the side and the wall split into two, leading to the cat’s room. I went inside and the wall automatically closed, making mechanical sounds. This made me stressed because there was no way out of the room.

I stared behind me and the cat awoke. She looked back and walked towards me. I too slowly went towards it, because I forgot that it was something like a ghost. The animal put its head under my hand. It had black feet, and dark hands. The tip of its ears seemed like they were colored the same tone as its feet too. It also had a black scarf -ike thing, but it was made out of fur. When I remembered this creature had interesting (and scary) abilities, I screamed out in horror. The animal bit my hand in response to my yell and vanished in front of my eye. A door appeared in the back of the room. It was the only exit. Forced to use it, I cautiously traveled towards the exit as I was squealing in pain. When I touched the door’s knob, the teeth marks sunk into my skin and formed a purple color. It reduced my pain, but panicked me even more. I ran through it and found myself sitting on the table (at my own house) eating dinner with the rest of my family.

Ta-daaa! Our house was all finished. It had sparkly floors and spotless walls. I didn’t do much of the work, (because I was scared) but I still helped a little. I kept the room secret, until my best friends came over. We all went to my bedroom, and I explained everything that happened. How I met the cat, the bubble, and teleported to my house. They were all left aghast.

“I don’t believe that!” Lana exclaimed shortly.

“It’s a joke, right Sereena?” Mallow asked.

“No, it’s not, guys!” I yelled.

“We want proof or I’ll go and tell your mom.” Mallow was not interested a bit.

“Wow guys, I thought you were my besties.”

“We are, but what you said is kinda unbelievable.” Lana was the only one who made sense. “Maybe some evidence?”

“Kay,” I finally gave in, “but no telling anyone, right?”

“Right!” They both said at the same time. I led them to the secret room and turned the book sideways (and nailed it this time!). I told them to enter. Then slowly the wall closed, and once again we were trapped. “Wow!” They declared.

“So this is really the place where you saw the cat, but I don’t see it.” Mallow got disappointed.

“Just wait a second, maybe it’s better this way. It did bite me last time.”

“What! Show us!” I pulled up my sleeve and showed them the purple mark. Then, suddenly, my arm started glowing and half of the purple stain floated out and turned into a dark fluid. It got split into two pieces while still flying in the air. Then Lana and Mallow’s arms started sparkling too. The liquid in the air got sucked into their skin. All of our body’s had identical stains now. We were all freaking out. Except for Mallow. She wasn’t scared of anything.

Then our arms suddenly got glued together by some mystical force and we were pulled by this force in the air. The purple stuff got extracted again, but this time it hardened and fell to the floor. After the ball rolled around, small flakes in the air started to appear. They combined together to form the shape of an animal. It had appeared again - the cat.

“Aww, it’s so cute!” Mallow called out, while I was trembling in fright.

“I guess you were right, Sereena.” Lana remarked. I think she was still trying to crack the case. Then she noticed something.

“Wait, look, over there, it looks like a scroll of paper.”

“Where?” Mallow queried. I was so scared that I just sat in a corner of the room and didn’t talk. They opened it.

“It looks like a news article.” Mallow noticed.

“It is!” Lana examined.

“Ok, it says,

1998, September 3rd. An ancient legend states that once there was a mythical creature shaped like a cat that was created by scientists using a ghost’s genes. It had special powers that no one else had. One day it encountered a woman that was injured. With its special abilities, it healed the woman. After that coincidence, the woman refused to let go of the special cat. She grabbed her and ran towards a huge estate. In the house, the woman followed the cat wherever it went to make

sure it didn't run away and escape. Then one day, she passed away. The cat was still trapped in the house after the death of the woman. It was still unable to go anywhere. From that day on, the animal has lived in the large residence. The location of it appears to be the house of the famous Elizabeth Torchefin. Can it really be that she stole the sacred…

And that’s the end of it,” Lana read what was written on the scroll.

“It’s so poorly written. Repeating ‘woman woman’ and ‘cat cat’” Mallow stated.

“I bet you couldn’t have written a better story than that, Mallow!”

“Oh yes I could!”

“GUYS,” I shouted, “Please don’t fight again, please, ok?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Do you think that we encountered the special cat?”

“That does make sense,” Lana admitted. While we were discussing it, I realized that the creature was sleeping on Mallow’s lap. I had totally forgotten about it. Now my fear started shaking me again, draining all my energy, leaving me weak.

Lana said, “Why don’t we play together with the, umm...creature? Is that it’s name?”

“Ohh, we should name it too!” Mallow spoke excitedly.

“Ok,” I said. They were so excited that I didn’t want to disappoint them by saying no, even though I was horrified. We played tag, hide-seek, dodgeball, and many other fun games. We named the creature Mistilery after a whole hour of fighting over it. I guess I had so much fun that I totally forgot about my fear. Or maybe I enjoyed playing with the ghost so much that I overcame my fear. Whatever happened, I realized that ghosts weren’t something to be afraid of. Not all of them had to be bad. They could be good too like Mistilery.

It was the next day and we all agreed to meet up together so that Lana and Mallow to play with the ghost. But when we all gathered, we found a note left on the carpet. It read,

“It was very fun playing with you three. Thanks for the company (I loved the name you guys gave me). But I apologize - I had to leave. When you left for home yesterday, a door opened and gave me a chance to return home. Thanks for everything. I hope you like my gift.

-Mistilery”

We all looked at the floor.

“Look over there!” Lana pointed towards the ground.

There was a cute little kitten sleeping next to the note. Beside it was the ball created by the dark fluid.

THE KASBAGH

CHAPTER 1: MAGIC AND MACHINATIONS BY ISA HASAN

Palace intrigue has always fascinated me, but ultimately, there's no way to verify the veracity of the stories. Did King Arthur really exist? Lancelot? We'll never know.

But one summer, I learned of a story of palace intrigue that was as true and real as anything you have ever known.

And far more morbid.

I'm here to tell it to you…

My family visited India for two weeks last summer. We stayed in one of the family houses, called Machli House. My parents spent their days visiting relatives, reliving their childhood memories, and eating mangoes. I, an American-born Indian, didn’t care that there were 12,000 varieties of mangoes in India.

It was a scalding hot day and impossible to step foot outside. Five minutes out the door was enough to leave you dripping in sweat from head to toe.

My mom suggested I visit my great-aunt Babli for tea. Given that I couldn't play cricket with my cousins that day due to the weather, I acquiesced.

Aunty Babli was main character energy, all day. She knew everything about everyone. 82 years and counting, yet nothing slipped past her eagle eyes. She also knew everything about the family history.

Oh. You should know this before we begin: We come from a long line of conquerors, originally Pashtuns in Afghanistan that made their way into India during the Mughal Empire, finally acquiring a state in India that they ruled until India's independence from the British.

Aunty Babli’s papier-mache hands, wrinkled as elegantly as they could wrinkle, were outstretched as she handed me a delicate porcelain cup and saucer engraved with a picture of a golden fish.

“Beta (dear), have your chai while it's hot. You know that tea is no good lukewarm.”

I thanked her and started to sip my chai, although it scalded my tongue. Still, I didn't want to inform her that in fact I did enjoy my tea lukewarm. She was quite argumentative for someone of her age. I changed the subject.

“Aunty Babli, can you tell me anything about my great-great-grandfather, Nawab Hameed? I haven't been able to find much online about him,” I said.

“You don't know the story of Nawab Hameed? Why, I would have thought your mother would have told you. It's quite scandalous,” she replied, and I could see the smirk creeping over her face. She was the family gossip.

“My mom can’t remember a royal family history story to save her life.” (Facts. She couldn’t.) “Would you mind doing the honors?”

“Well, I probably shouldn't, but I will tell you only because I think you should be warned. It involves magic,” she said with feigned caution.

But I could see her eyes glint with excitement at the prospect of being the one to give me the low-down on a family scandal.

I leaned forward in anticipation. That was adequate encouragement for her. She started.

“My grandfather, Nawab Hameed, was an excellent leader, as you know. He was quite wealthy and the royal state had drastically expanded under his rule. He had acquired several smaller, neighboring states and as my grandfather grew in power, he developed independence from the British.

The British regency was beginning to fear that he was more powerful than they were comfortable with. They wanted the Indian kings to always be subservient to their command. The Indian kings didn’t make a move without approval from the British governor despite their riches and palaces. At the end of the day, they were still pawns.

They were growing wary of Nawab Hameed’s newfound divergence from the British on opinions related to governing. The British wanted the Nawab to fight a war against the Sikhs of Northern Punjab, who were threatening to defect from the British Empire.

The Nawab refused their demand. He didn’t want the unnecessary bloodshed of his people.

The British governor posted in India, who reported to Queen Victoria, hatched a scheme to take Nawab Hameed down.

The Nawab had many enemies, unsurprisingly. Of all of them, the one most enraged with jealousy was his younger brother, Mustafa.

His brother wanted power and control more than anything else, and was frustrated by the frivolous life he had been relegated to by his elder brother. It was a life of standing in for his brother in court frequently due to the Nawab’s busy schedule in regularly overseeing the various districts of the state.

Court days were full of food, music, and grand balls. The cuisine was exquisite; the kingdom was known for having the best kabab chefs in all of India. They were also renowned for their qawwali music. Yet Mustafa was bored. He had no real responsibilities.

When the governor, Earl Vince, proposed that they come together to usurp Nawab Hameed’s power and overthrow him, Nawabzada (Prince) Mustafa nearly leapt at the opportunity.

But now came the tricky part. How would they oust the Nawab from the throne?

If Mustafa’s machinations were discovered, he would be hanged for treason. Even if the Nawab’s grand vizier or others in the Nawab’s court that were still loyal to him caught wind of the prince’s design, despite its success, he still ran the risk of death.

His plot could not be foiled. It had to be foolproof.

And so, Mustafa realized that someone closer to Hameed than even him had to aid in unaliving the king. And he knew just the person.

Nawab Hameed, like all other rulers of his time, had four wives. The first wife was the Queen Consort, or the reigning queen. Her name was Noor. The purpose of the remaining three wives was to provide enough potential heirs that even if the Queen Consort had only daughters, the Nawab would still have a son by one

of his other wives. This would secure the lineage of the royal family. The Nawab’s son - not an uncle, cousin, or nephew - would always inherit the throne.

The Queen Consort did in fact have a son: Kasim. However, Kasim was born with hemophilia and doubt had permeated the royal court as to whether he would ever be strong enough to reign. Whispers abounded about his frail frame, which gave him the appearance of an eight-year-old despite his actual age of eighteen.

The second wife had unfortunately birthed no children at all, each dying prior to reaching full term. The fourth wife had all daughters.

That left the third wife, Rumana.

Rumana had a ten-year-old son who was fit to rule. An expert archer and horseman, a gifted mathmetician, and a polyglot able to speak six languages (Persian, Urdu, Arabic, English, Pashto, and Hindi), young Abdullah was the perfect prince. Not to mention, he had striking green eyes and thick, flowing black hair. It was clear he would be handsome one day.

Rumana wanted nothing more than for Abdullah to be king. He was imminently more talented - and healthier - than his half-brother Kasim. She had spent her whole life in the women’s palace, doing nothing but investing every moment of every day into raising and breeding Abdullah into the perfect prince.

Yet she knew that he had no chance to become King.

If not Kasim, then Mustafa would be the next king, and then ultimately his sons (although he was unmarried as of yet). Abdullah’s life was destined to be a waste.

So, when Mustafa and Earl Vince approached Rumana with a scheme devised to assasinate Hameed, Rumana did not hesitate to cooperate.

The plan was simple:

Rumana would obtain a vial of magic potion from Hakim Yusuf. Then, she would mix the magic potion into Hameed’s evening tea. The second magic potion would be passed from Rumana to her handmaiden, who would pour its contents into the tea of the carriage driver, Shah.”

I interrupted Aunty Babli at this point. “Why two magic potions? Isn’t one enough?”

Aunty Babli smiled quietly and said, “Patience, beta. I’m getting there.”

She continued.

“Hakims were naturopathic doctors, some of whom dabbled in black magic. Black magic was considered a grave sin and crime, as it altered a person’s destiny. It was punishable by death.

But Yusuf was the most clever hakim in the land, and knew how to mask his magic potions under the guise of herbal remedies. He rarely used black magic, but if he did, it was only if he was paid extremely handsomely.

Rumana obtained the two vials of magic potion from the hakim in exchange for a necklace with emeralds the size of my fists.

We have very few of these such necklaces left in the family due to one family member after another selling them off for pennies and potions,” Aunty Babli scoffed. “Imagine if I had that necklace today, how rich I

would be!”

It was true. The family had lost nearly all of its wealth over generations. At one time, the family’s fortune had rivaled that of the Nizam of Hyderabad, who had once held the famous Kohinoor Diamond (until it was stolen by the British).

“Anyway, one night, while Hameed was on the chamberpot (that’s what we used to call the toilet), Rumana stealthily entered his bedchamber.

She found his evening tea on the sterling silver tray by his bedside. She hurriedly dropped the contents of the vial into his tea and rushed out.

When Hameed returned, he climbed into bed and sipped his tea as he began reading the state’s agricultural records, his nightly reading.

Within moments, the magic potion had done its duty.

Suddenly, Hameed had the worst headache of his life. A thunderbolt of pain zapped his skull. He dropped the agricultural records book and held his violently shaking hands to his forehead, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Before he could even wonder about the source of this excruciating pain, he was dead, his lifeless body hanging limply over the edge of the bed.

By the next day, everyone at court had heard of the king’s tragic demise. Nawabzada Kasim would be the next king.

There were certainly whispers about whether he was fit, but they were instantaneously shut down by the grand vizier, who proclaimed that anyone who questioned Prince Kasim’s ability to rule would be tried for treason by a swift trial and a speedy execution.

The coronation had been scheduled for the fourth day following Nawab Hameed’s death, following the customary mourning period.

On the day of the coronation, Rumana gave her handmaiden, Layla, the second deathly vial. Layla went for a walk by the carriages and stables, and came across the carriage driver, Shah.

“Adaab (formal greeting). How good it is to see you today, Shah,” Layla smiled sweetly at Shah. Shah replied courteously, “I’m very well. You look very well yourself.”

“Indeed, I am. I was wondering if it would be too much trouble to ask you to assist me in an urgent matter for Begum (ma’am) Rumana. She would like to ride her white Arabian stallion today. However, he is in a foul mood. I tried giving him sugar cubes, his favorite snack. Yet he continues to buck any saddle I place on him. I do so want to avoid being scolded by Begum Rumana!”

Shah jumped up. “Have no fear, my lady. I know just the trick to get that rascal under control. When he bucks, give him a delicious date to eat. He will become docile. I will take your leave immediately and will be back in just a minute.”

Shah rushed off to the stables on the far-end of the pasture where the personal royal horses of the Nawab and his family were kept.

As soon as he left, Layla found Shah’s flask made of camel skin hanging on the carriage horse’s saddle. She unscrewed it and poured the contents of the magic potion into his tea.

Within moments, Shah had returned, beaming with pride at his success in quelling the stallion’s foul temper. Layla had always suspected that Shah had wanted to ask for her hand in marriage, hence his eagerness to assist. Layla thanked him and promptly rushed back towards the palaces.

An hour later, the coronation had begun.

First, the vizier and other members of the court rode into the town on elephants covered in decadent crimson brocades. They threw solid gold coins to the poor, who had gathered in droves on both sides of the dust-covered main road that ran through the center of the city.

Next, the soldiers marched through, carrying banners displaying the coat of arms of the Nawab: two crossed sabres above a picture of an open-mouthed, gold-scaled fish.

Finally came Nawabzada Kasim, pulled in a horsedrawn carriage gilded top to bottom with a stunning display of uncut emeralds, rubies, and diamonds enmeshed in a frame of solid, pure silver.

Four Fusaichi Pegasus horses (the most expensive horses in the world) pulled the open-top carriage as young Kasim timidly waved to the cheering crowds.

Shah rode in front, now in a stately, stark-white turban decorated with a fine peacock feather, which was fastened to the turban with a Burmese ruby brooch.

The crowds roared in applause at the sight of their new young king as the carriage passed the throngs of villagers.

Suddenly, something happened to Shah.

The whites of his eyes turned black, and his eyes began leaking what appeared to be a black dye. Perhaps iodine? The midnight black liquid streamed down his face and suddenly, started gushing out of his mouth.

Then, his mouth began to foam. It was a fluffy white foam, tainted with the black of the dye.

He sneered. He was rabid.

At once, he cracked his whip, and the stunningly beautiful black stallions leapt from a relaxed trot into a frenzied gallop.

The carriage was out of control. It began to teeter left and right as Shah cracked his whip harder and harder, and the stallions become more and more frantic. Kasim was violently jostled up and down as he clung rigidly to the sides of the carriage, eyes squeezed shut in fear.

Shah yanked on the reins. The horses suddenly jerked to a halt.

Kasim was thrown about twenty feet from the carriage. His body landed with a thud in front of the townsfolk.

Their mouths gaped open in horror. Kasim was dead.”

“That’s so morbid! But why would Rumana want to help Mustafa? He would be the next king, not her son, Abdullah,” I wondered.

“There’s a reason. And you haven’t heard the best part of the story yet, child,” she said. Her face had contorted into…rage. Why rage?

My aunt pressed on.

“Rumana had struck a deal with Mustafa. After Hameed and Kasim died, he would become king. In exchange, he agreed never to marry and never to have children. That meant Abdullah would be next on the throne after Mustafa.

He held true to his word. Mustafa went on to become the next Nawab, and at the age of fifty-five, passed away of tuberculosis.

Abdullah became the next king.”

I interrupted again. “Is that the best part of the story? That Abdullah became king?”

“I’m getting there,” Aunty Babli replied. Her face was now white, the color drained entirely. Her eyes were dark, though. They conveyed something beyond rage. A bit scary, honestly. I better not open my mouth again, I thought.

“Abdullah became the next king, indeed. But within a month of his coronation, tragedy struck.

He had gone swimming in the lake next to the summer palace, as we all did growing up. But he unexpectedly drowned, despite being the best swimmer in the kingdom.

He died without heirs. As a result, the daughter of Hameed’s first wife, Noor, became Queen, and her husband, a king from another Indian princely state, the king. We are descended from her, in fact. Her name was Bilkees.

After hearing of her son’s untimely death, Rumana went absolutely mad.

She went to every hakim in the country, insisting that they use black magic to revive her son. Even if he would come back in a form that no sane person would ever dare face - as a zombie. As an undead.

No hakim dared interfere with the afterlife, for fear of incurring God’s wrath.

So Rumana took up black magic herself and spent the rest of her life on a quest to bring back her beloved Abdullah.

When she died, she had become so evil from madness that nobody dared touch her body, for fear that her evil would imprint upon them, even after death.

And so, she was never given a proper burial. Her body decayed in her bedroom. The door to her bedroom was padlocked and the key was thrown away.

Legend has it that she finally did create the magic potion that would bring her son back to life, but she died before she was able to use it. Apparently, she died clasping the vial in her hand.

Others say that she was able to revive herself with the vial just in the nick of time. If that’s true, we haven’t seen the undead Rumana yet.

In any event…an evil ending for an villanous woman,” concluded my great-aunt. Her fury had dissipated, fortunately.

“Where did she live at the time of her passing?” I inquired. I wondered if I had ever encountered this haunted manor.

“She died in Machli House,” my great-aunt replied nonchalantly.

“Machli House…isn’t that where I’m staying?” I asked, horrified.

She paused, thinking for a moment. “Yes, I believe it is.”

Aghast, I thanked her for the tea and excused myself. My mother would be expecting me for dinner soon, which was the truth.

I rushed home and barged my way through the long, winding corridor of Machli House until I was standing face to face with a thick, ancient wooden door.

However, the door wasn’t locked, as my Aunt had said. Curiously, the heavy, rusted padlock was dangling off the latch.

The door was open.

LAYLA, WORLD TRAVELER

CHAPTER 1: ARCTIC ADVENTURE BY MARIAM MOHAMMED

In the land of the ice and snow, where the polar bears roamed and the seals barked, a young adventurer set out to explore the farthest reaches of the Arctic. Her name was Laila. She was 12 years old. Now I know what you're thinking, 12 years old is too young to go on adventures without a parent or guardian. However, she was an orphan. She was also a child prodigy. And she was a third degree black belt in taekwondo.

Her saesong was a Korean grandmaster named Man-hee Han, and he is 85 years old as of March 2023. Having been raised in a taekwondo dojo for 12 years, Layla was finally ready to discover the lost ship of Lord Horatio Nelson, the British Admiral who went crazy in 1808 and sailed into the Arctic Ocean where his ship froze at the North Pole. Layla had heard of Lord Nelson's legendary treasure that he borrowed from a young Indian raja who had rubies, gold bracelets, diamonds, and necklaces.

Now, Layla was bundled up from head to toe. She wore a super fluffy Gortex jacket, gloves, and boots. She also had a sled pulled by six dogs whose names were Jack, Rey, Rex, Musky, Rusky, and Tusky. As you can tell, these dogs were all male. After traveling for three days, she made an igloo at the North Pole and crawled in. Her dogs dug holes and buried themselves for a nap. Layla spread her map on the snow. The treasure should be here somewhere, she thought. However, she didn't know that the teacher who was Korean had sent her on a wild goose chase to test her fortitude.

When the morning came, Layla heard the chop chop chop of a helicopter coming to airlift her back to the dojo.

“But Master, how did you know that I was even here?” asked the curious child prodigy.

Grandmaster Man-hee Han pressed his lips into a thin line. “I knew because you have been in my taekwondo dojo for 12 years! I knew you would make it to the North Pole, but honestly, you should not have tried to look for the treasure of Lord Horatio Nelson. The treasure was found twenty years ago using satellites. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

Layla puffed up her cheeks in indignation. “I could’ve frozen to death, Master!”

The octogenarian grandmaster looked sorrowfully into the frozen horizon. “Well, you might have, but it’s not that chilly!”

From that day on, Layla had learned her lesson that there are no get-rich-quick schemes in life, and that it was important to work hard toward your goals. In fact, Layla went on to open her own taekwondo dojo in Fremont, California when she was 20 years old. She taught kids how to defend themselves using Grandmaster Man-hee Han’s techniques. Then, she taught more people who were interested in learning. All in all, she became a pillar of the community and everyone around the world respected her.

But as an adult, there was still one thing missing in Layla’s life. As an orphan, she wanted to know who her real parents were, even though she was raised in South Korea. So, she wanted to take a trip to Makkah, Saudi Arabia, where she had been told her birth parents lived.

There was only one solution: she needed to go on more adventures. It was the appeal of the treasure that made her go to the Arctic in the first place. But now, she was driven by a deeper need; a need to discover her true self and where she came from.

THE INHERITORS OF THE STAR SPIRIT PROLOGUE, CHAPTER 1,

AND CHAPTER 2 BY

Prologue

RANA O.

“Grandma, tell us a story, tell us a story!” cried the toddlers, all sitting by the fireplace.

“Well, do little minds know about the spirits from the other realms?”

“Pfff, ghosts aren’t real, stop flooding their minds!” Mom exclaimed from the kitchen.

“Ahh, but I know!” grandma responded, “it all started when…”

“Mommy!” Delphie yelled as she ran up the stairs.

“I’m here!” Angel responded.

“What have you named her?” she asked as she hugged her mom.

“What do you think we should name her?”

“Hmm…Oh I know! Pearl!” Delphie suggested.

“I like it. Say hi to your sister Delphie.”

“Hi, little sis.”

“She looks just like you, Delphie,” Ember said from the corner of the room.

“Ember! You were here too?”

“Well, no hugs for me?” Delphie gladly hugged her next door neighbor. Just then they hear a knock on the door.

“Open up, order from the government,” a gruff voice boomed from below followed by a series of harsh knocks.

“I’ll go check it out.” Ember said as she quietly shuffled down the stairs, looking qute nervous. Delphie accompanied her.

“Angel Levine is required to submit to the government NOW!” the same voice boomed again. As Ember opened the door, she asked,

“What's going on?”

“Angel Levine is under arrest for improperly addressing her duties. Her daughter Delphie is also to be taken for testing.” Testing was a way to determine if children had gifts. If so, they were taken away for execution.

“NOOO, mommy didn’t do anything! You guys must've made a mistake.” Delphie interrupted.

“Shush little girl, I am talking to this lady here, not you.” Just then Angel appeared at the doorstep with Delphie’s and her coats, and walked towards the doorway,

“Don’t worry Delphie, nothing’s going to happen, let’s go.”

“What about Pearl?”

“Ember, please look after Pearl for me. I’ll come back as soon as possible!”

“Of course…but do you have to leave-” Ember started but was cut off by the man at the door.

“I don't have time for this. Of course she needs to come. Walk over, and hurry up, you two!” He yelled as he ruthlessly pulled Delphie out the door.

Like it was just a second, Angel and Delphie were out the door and were being taken to the City Hall.

“I guess it’s just me and you now, Pearl.” Ember whispered to the serene baby in her lap.

Chapter One

12 years later

Pearl sat on a stone staring at the mini waterfall flowing peacefully across. She managed to escape from today's vigorous training. Aunt Cora was training them in case of an emergency.

There were more important things on her mind that day. Like the sudden burst of wind near the trees on her right side. She quickly turned her head and saw absolutely nothing.

She shrugged to herself and started peeling a twig in her hand.

Then another burst of wind.

And then another burst of wind.

Then again, this time stronger and with an eerie light!

Pearl jumped to her feet and looked around, as she slowly advanced towards the direction of the wind, and felt it again.

“BOO!”

“AGHHH!”

From the opposite direction, she saw Maple come closer.

“Phew, I thought it was something else.”

Maple was laughing hysterically.

“Caught you this time huh?” Maple asked.

“Only this once!”

“We’ll see about that, Aunt Cora is calling you by the way. She wants you to come back. I bet you’re in big trouble today. Looks like you’re cleaning the barn!”

“Ok I’ll come, you go ahead.”

“Kay, meet you there!” Her wavy red hair flowed elegantly behind her as she skipped down the trail. Right as she was about to stand up and follow Maple, she felt the gust of air on her left side again. As she was about to depart, a misty light flowed around the rocks and the trees. Pearl froze.

Then as she inched toward the blinding light, it flew into the thick bushes and vanished. Pearl looked back in the direction of the orphanage and then the direction of the mist. She told herself she’ll just take a look.

As she walked through the thick bushes in hopes of seeing something, she thought she saw a flash through the corner of her eye. She quickly turned around and fell through an empty tunnel through the ground. She tumbled all the way down an earthy passageway. THUMP. She landed right on her back. After coughing for quite a while, she realized she fell into an empty clearing. She saw whitish mist gracefully flowing around the trees. Pearl heard excited giggles echoing around the clearing. Before she could even guess what it was, suddenly, a blinding light flashed before her eyes. Everything went black.

Chapter Two

As she slowly opened her eyes to the thump of a leaf on her forehead, she found herself lying under the colossal willow tree resting behind the orphanage. When she heard footsteps coming towards the back door, Pearl sprinted towards the nearest window, climbing in as quickly as possible just in time for another sound.

She was in the library and ANOTHER set of footsteps came closer towards the entrance. “Busy day I guess,” she thought. She grabbed the nearest book and to her luck, it was her missing history book she needed to study. Sitting at the nearest table, she fished out a pen and started studying.

“There you are!”

“Oh! Hi, Aunt Cora!”

“Funny, Maple just went to go get you back. How come you’re already here?”

“Oh, she might’ve taken a detour,” Pearl said nervously.

“Ok,” she shrugged, “Dinner’s in an hour. DO NOT be late.”

“Mission understood.” Pearl started sweating.

After Aunt Cora exited the room, she relaxed. But her eye caught on a book about to fall titled, A Complete Guide to Ghost Types. Pearl picked up the book and started scrolling through it until she found a black pouch glued to the interior of the book. It read, “Star Spirit, beware.”

Weird, Pearl had never heard of those before. She debated whether she should open it or not, but the moment she touched the strings, a blast of powder filled the room.

“WAKE UP!”

“AGHHHH.”

“I HAVE BEEN SEARCHING FOR YOU FOREVER!” Maple screamed, “You really scared me half to death and missed dinner!”

“What?? Dinner is in an hour, what do you mean? And why are the lights out?” Pearl responded. “Pff, so you thought. It was 4 hours ago and it’s currently bedtime. How did you fall asleep?”

“I fell asleep??”

They both burst into laughter, then decided to sneak back into their beds when they heard footsteps approaching. It was a matter of time before Maple was snoring.

Pearl, on the other hand, was disturbed by the events of the day. And what was a Star Spirit? She closed her eyes and forced herself to drift into a slumber, unaware of the danger she had unleashed.

THE LEGEND OF THE WALKING STICK BY ISA HASAN

In the forest deep, where trees do sway, A bug appeared, in a sudden way. His name was Walking Stick, it’s said, But walking straight?

Oh, heavens dread!

With legs so long, like branches tall, He stumbled and wobbled, a comical sprawl. Tripping on twigs and pebbles and air, His coordination simply wasn’t there!

The other bugs would laugh and jeer, As the Walking Stick drew near.

“Hey Stick, are you a bug or twig?”

Then they would mimic his lopsided jig.

He tried to hide among the sticks, But blending in was not a fix.

Instead of disappearing into the crowd, He stood out, awkward and loud.

His camouflage failed as a ruse, The bugs’ mockery brought out his blues.

“Stick, oh Stick, why so absurd?”

“You’re the wonkiest bug ever observed!”

But Walking Stick just shrugged it off. He ignored the snickers and the scoffs.

“I’ll keep on swaying through the day!”

“A bug this cool won’t lose his way!”

So if you see a twig amiss, With legs that cause a chuckling bliss, Say hi to Walking Stick with glee, A bug so funny, wild, and free!

SERPENT OF THE DEEP: AN EPIC POEM BY YUSUF ATTARAS

In the middle of the Pacific between Hawaii and the Philippines, near Guam Island, In the depths of the Mariana Trench. The trench that is the deepest well to ever be. Were two friends, Saltie and Lamp. Lost in the deep, dark, dreadful, dead ocean. Little did they know they were nearing the bottom of the trench, Where the deathly serpent lurked.

In the middle of the Pacific between Hawaii and the Philippines, near Guam Island, In the depths of the Mariana Trench. Were two friends, Saltie and Lamp. Nearing the serpent. His name being Hood.

Trapped in a dark tomb for hundreds of thousands of years. Waiting for something to take the bait and open the door. Luckily for the Saltie, the saltwater crocodile, and Lamp, the angler fish, someone had found them. It was Lamp's mom, searching for the two friends. As they left the depths of the sea, someone else had opened the lost tomb.

A large barracuda named Scale. Saw Hood, the deathly serpent, he swam in horror. Trying to escape the rays of deadly venom shooting “Bang!” it boomed. Each dart of deadly poison hardly missing Scale. The lasers of toxic spit weakening the rock. At last he escaped with heavy breath.

Right then the rocks broke, falling from above like lightning. Hood was trapped but continued to rip apart the giant boulders. As for Scale, he was headed upwards, warning the creatures of the ghastly beast that lurked below.

Nobody believed Scale and they said he made it up, Except for Saltie and Lamp.

Making friends with Scale immediately. Scale described Hood while shivering.

“Red eyed, black scaled, ghoul-like serpent.

Massive body and hood,” he said.

“With a pattern of blood-freezing serpents exactly like him. A pitch-black colored mouth with pure white devastating fangs.”

With that word, the three friends tried to tell all the critters to be alert. Describing the monster, barely being able to say the words. But yet again they were ignored.

Soon they swam to an old friend, a bull shark. People would always listen to him.

If he believed them, then everyone in the Mariana Trench would be aware of Hood. The wise bull shark told them that when the venom of the viper is collected and shot at the speed of light right between his eyes, he would die, otherwise he was immortal.

Then he gave them a scroll about Hood.

As they started talking to the bull shark, the ground shook and a green laser-like erupted from the bedrock 11 kilometers below.

Scale knew it was Hood.

He called to the fish, swimming in panic, shouting,”It’s Hood the monstrosity, so take cover in the coral reef!”

The second they heard Scale, no one dared to respond and they all hid, including the bull shark. Then when it was all quiet, Scale, Saltie, and Lamp started their descent into the weary darkness. It was when they heard a swoosh in the water and saw green arrows of poison with red eyes, that they knew that about a hundred meters below was the black basilisk of their nightmares. They debated whether to flee or confront the cold-blooded dragon. They decided they would not flee or fight but collect the poison and dodge the arrows. Then they would use the shiny steel shield of Guam. They would then fly to the surface while followed by Hood and when he got close, they would parry the gamma rays emanating from Hood, splashing the poison on rays, aimed at the mortal spot on Hood’s head.

With that plan, Scale volunteered to collect the poison in a vial. The others went to find a well-functioning spaceship. Scale dove into the dark, where the only light was of the eyes of the bloodthirsty anaconda. Hood saw him and bursted with anger, and suddenly a zap of electricity emerged from behind Hood. It was an electric eel coincidently zapping Hood’s tail. Stuned and drowsy, Hood was knocked out.

Quickly, Scale took the vial and squeezed Hood’s poison-filled glands as they released the toxic venom. He filled the liter vial and went to the surface.

There, Saltie and Lamp had found a space vessel with 100% filled rocket fuel.

They converted the vessel into a sphere that can hover in one spot or act like a rocket.

Hood, on the other hand, was furious and, mind blown, went to the surface to find the slimy eel that electrocuted him.

Instead he found Lamp collecting metal.

Quickly bit into the flesh of the angler fish, almost chopping him in half.

While blood spewed and the sea dragon's venom traveled into the blood of Lamp as he met his fate. Saltie, miles away, smelled the blood and recognized it.

Cried till he almost turned blind.

Scale asked him why but he didn’t answer, overcome with grief.

Finally, Saltie responded and said that he smelled Lamp’s blood north of them. They swam, rushing, and found Lamp torn to pieces. Again, Saltie cried.

But Scale read about Hood. The scroll said that after Hood is killed, all those who he killed will come back to life.

With that, Saltie stopped crying, grabbed the metal, and swam back to the spaceship.

Quickly, they built the ship and Scale searched for a red dot in the sky.

That is how the gamma ray would appear. While Saltie searched for Hood.

Saltie returned, wounded, and climbed in while Scale started the engine so they could get over the surface.

Saltie gave Scale the shield of Guam and started to move when something hit the space vessel from behind. It was Hood.

They quickly got out of the spaceship and swam as fast as they could to where the gamma ray would hit.

Saltie saw Hood and splashed the poison at the right moment, but Scale was hit by the ray.

As he fell, he parried a small part of the ray and hit Hood square in the forehead, ripping the brains of Hood out of his head.

Alas, Hood was long gone, but Lamp and the coral reef were back; they all grieved upon their loss of The Great Scale.

Lamp was frozen in terror at the remembrance of the sharp fangs that tore him like a hot blade through butter.

Soon a gloomy and depressed crowd took Scale’s torn body and buried it alongside the body of the most just king of the trench.

Scale was a sleeping sword but his deed is to be remembered by all residents of the reef.

BRADLEY AND THE AMAZON RAINFOREST: AN EPIC POEM

BY ZYAD ELWAZEER

Once there were four friends: Bradley, Liam, James, and William

They desired to discover a massive kingdom where there was freedom

It is the largest of its kind and found in South America

Called the Amazon Rainforest and not located in Africa

Each kid asked their parents if they could depart to the Amazon Rainforest

All of them agreed except Bradley's mom, who spoke, “It wouldn’t be the best Because the Amazon has ferocious animals and you might get lost in its huge area

So they all went except Bradley who was sorrowful and had a barrier

From going where he desired to go

Alas, woe upon our heroes. he spoke goodbye to his friends and mentioned, “You should know, That I indeed wanted to come

With you to have fun

Unfortunately I cannot though My mom uttered that I cannot go.”

They declare, “Don’t worry about us

Getting lost.”

Then they departed to the noisy airport to go soaring

Huge, booming, and roaring

It sounds like a lion when he is prowling Shouting, screaming, chatting, and saying, “Hey”!

To South America they wanted to go there and locate their way

Alas, woe upon our heroes. A month went by and they haven't come back

So Bradley interrogated his mom once more about going there and if they are in trouble he will be at their backs.

After a lot of convincing she spoke, “Yes

But if you have a success

In doing what you went to do

Come right back

Don’t even poo

Even if you lack speed

Don’t even pee

He replied, “Sure.”

I won’t even take a tour

So he went to the airport

Hearing retorts

From fighting people

With brains extremely feeble

The people speaking about flights and times

Oh they are so kind

Huge, booming, and roaring

It sounds like a lion when he is prowling

He made a chart

On paper which he split apart Which terminals to take Because he didn’t want to make a mistake. He went to the plane

Filled with people who can’t explain What happened to the three friends of fame

Who were known all over South America by the name: The people who went but never came back He didn’t know what they lacked

To help them get back

Onto the track

That they were on Some say they were so close and almost won But then they’ve never seen them again

Someone said they had a lot of pens

Then the ride was over

He was in Brazil then rode a rover

That took him to the Amazon Rainforest trailhead

Alas, woe upon our heroes. Someone spoke that the monster might’ve eaten their heads

The monster was so red

He replied, “Nobody mentioned anything about a monster!”

They uttered, “Don’t you know about the monster who lives to conquer. Whose name is Tucker.

What a sucker

Filthy man eater who eats people whole.

The only way to save anyone who’s gotten eaten.

Is to slay Tucker once in for all.

But Tucker’s skin is like ore

So the only way to kill him is to crawl Right under him and burn him.

For all his sins

That might set the forest ablaze

So before you go

You must know

That you need to have an efficient amount of water

And you cannot stop to teeter-totter.”

He declared, “Very well

But I need someone to bring me the materials

I need to go to slay the enormous, rotund, and filthy Tucker. Which I want to experience

In beating him and slaying him and… “Really?”

You think it is so trouble-free

Tucker is in the center of the forest

He hears people entering the forest since he hears hornets

Be prepared for them and he knows what they came for since many people attempted to slay it too

Each time the person fails and gets devoured

And then each time comes someone new

And they always don’t get overpowered

He spoke, “Ok I shall start a fire.

And water is where?

The water is very prior

Incase I burn down the forest and be a hunter

Of animals that used to live there.”

So Bradley started the fire and put it on a torch

He was next to a house and didn’t want to burn the porch

And he had a huge tank of water

He couldn't carry it is he got a mover with wheels

He had a map too so he would know where the monster is to slaughter

He finally started into the forest

And found many ferocious animals but none of them were Tucker

Alas, woe to our heroes. He once thought he heard this, “Thump, rumble, boom, and Thump,” But that was probably his heart nervous and like a cutter

That would strike him and make him into rubber

Then he found a statue that might’ve looked like Tucker and it noted “SCRAM OR TUCKER WILL MAKE YOU INTO SOFTENED BUTTER.”

He didn’t mind the sign and continued

Then he found another sign That commented, “If you are still here

Then you should fear

That Tucker, the tricker, and picker of people will hear you and sear

Towards you and eat you and your organs one by one

I’m pretty sure it won’t be fun.”

Bradley heald his torch strongly

And pushed his water bravely

His walk extended longly

He found a toenail strangely

Then he found Tucker

enormous, rotund, and looks like a sucker

Tucker, vermilion in color

Alas, woe to our heroes. He remembered his friends and how they suffered

Not the grassy green they barfy green

He doesn't look like a teen

His skin looks hard like a sword that’s just been made

He was sleeping on his underbelly so it was hard to get him to fade

He wanted to wake him up so he climbed on him and jumped on him

But nothing worked and his snoring explained

So he dug a tunnel that lead to Tucker’s underbelly

Then finally the fire touched him and spread speedily

The sight was beautiful

The smell was horrible

Then Tucker burnt to ashes and Bradley poured the water on the remains of the fire

Then all of a sudden Liam, James, and William appeared

They spoke, “Thank you for saving us. You are truly a master at this battle”

They all seared with joy, living happily thereafter.

KATRINA’S LIMERICK BY

IBRAHIM ATTARAS

There once was a girl named Katrina

Who had a friend, a pal named Nina

They bought jeans, what a pair!

But the tag lied, oh despair!

Shrunk jeans are a hurricane arena.

To her surprise the jeans did not fit

Angry girls are terrifying, to wit

She unleashed her mighty rain

Flooding the land, causing pain

A troublemaker who refused to quit.

Katrina was now a hurricane

She flooded every imaginable plain

“Feel my wrath, you lowly humans!”

“It’s World War III, I’m Prez Truman!”

She said as she assaulted Lake Pontchartrain.

People fled to Houston’s Super Dome

With no place to call their home

To this day, they still suffer

Rarely having food for supper

On streets many homeless still roam.

Katrina’s destruction was nothing but evil

Her punishments simply medieval

Her evil laugh, a haunting refrain

That we hope never to see again

We pray she doesn’t enact a sequel.

So beware of Katrina’s might

Her hunger for mischief, her delight

In conclusion, hide your kids

For she’s still hungry for their ribs

In New Orleans, she caused quite a fright!

THE TALE OF THE UNLUCKY SHIPWRECK, ACTS I AND II

BY UNAYSAH RON

Cast Of Characters

EARL: Powder monkey of the captain, naive but faithful.

CAPTAIN: The captain of his ship, who stranded at sea for mysterious reasons

LUDWIG: AESIR LINDERSON’s deckhand.

AESIR LINDERSON: Rival of CAPTAIN

PROPRIETOR: Owner of the Green Eel, a hotel.

Act i

CAPTAIN: This is sad.

EARL: What’s sad?

CAPTAIN: What’s sad? We’re stranded on a dingy lifeboat, we’ve lost our ship, and we’ve been lost at sea for hours! How could this be any worse?

EARL: We might not have a lifeboat.

CAPTAIN: Then we’d be too dead to feel sad.

CAPTAIN (resting their head on the boat's edge): This is miserable.

EARL: (Pulling some cheese out of his pocket): Have some cheese! That may cheer you up!

CAPTAIN: I suppose…

CAPTAIN: (takes a mournful bite of cheese)

EARL: But things could be way worse, captain. We could have a shark chasing after us.

CAPTAIN: I’d murder it with my knife.

EARL: You may not have that knife.

CAPTAIN: Then I’d feed you to it and kill it with my bare hands while it’s eating.

EARL: That would be worse than our current situation though.

CAPTAIN: Things could be better, too. I could still have the Serendipity, we could have proper food and water instead of these terrible rations, and I could have Merlin himself on here instead of you, Earl.

CAPTAIN: But I suppose I could live off of you for a few days if it gets any worse.

EARL: I’d rather you eat the fish, please.

CAPTAIN: (sighs) This is downright depressing.

EARL: No, this is amazing!

CAPTAIN: You may believe that, but I don’t think I ever will.

EARL: Look! There’s land!

CAPTAIN: (jerks self up to look around)

CAPTAIN: LAND! We should be getting ready to go ashore! Get out the rope! Row, row, row!

EARL: We have no rope.

CAPTAIN: ROW.

EARL: Yes, captain.

CAPTAIN: (looks eagerly at the island)

CAPTAIN: We’re almost there!

Narrator: A short while later, they arrive at the island.

CAPTAIN: Oh, sweet, sweet, land! It’s been too long since I’ve stood on your stable earth!

EARL: (panting heavily)

EARL: Finally…here…

CAPTAIN: We must observe this island to gain information on its inhabitants! Then, of course, we find a port that will take us to our base of opera - home!

CAPTAIN: (mutters under their breath) The walls have ears, Erwin. You can never be too careful.

EARL: Erwin?

CAPTAIN: (still muttering) The walls have ears, Erwin.

EARL: Yes, uh, Maurice.

CAPTAIN: Maurice?

CAPTAIN: We should head inland to look for a port. An island this big is bound to have one.

EARL: Yes, Maurice.

Narrator: They continue trekking inland until they reach the docks.

CAPTAIN: (walks over to a fisherman, who is taking fish off of his boat.)

CAPTAIN: Would you mind taking us to Ravel? Erwin and I have family there, but our boat left without us! If you could be so kind, I could pay some money.

FISHERMAN: It ain’t for me to decide. Everything moved through here has to go through Ludwig. I s’pose you could make an appointment, but I dunno how long the line is.

CAPTAIN: Where can I see Ludwig?

FISHERMAN: Ludwig’s office is over there. (The fisherman points to an office that looks a lot like a repurposed fruit stand)

CAPTAIN: Thank you for the help, kind sir. Erwin, let’s get going.

EARL: Yes, father.

CAPTAIN: Well, I suppose we should get going, Erwin. (Earl and the CAPTAIN walk over to Ludwig’s office. There is a line in front of them, which numbers about ten people.)

CAPTAIN: Erwin, you and I shall stand here and wait.

EARL: Yes, father.

(Earl and the CAPTAIN wait for a bit, as the people in front talk to Ludwig for a minute and then wander off. Finally, Earl and the CAPTAIN are at the front of the line.)

CAPTAIN: (Gasps, takes Earl’s hat, and puts it on.)

CAPTAIN: (In an odd accent.) Well, Ludwig, a kind fisherman pointed us here, so can we request passage to Ravel? My son and I have family there, and we haven’t been able to find anyone to take us there.

LUDWIG: (Does not look up from his stack of papers.)

LUDWIG: I’ll need your name and which port you plan on docking on.

CAPTAIN: Maurice and Erwin…Randall! Maurice and Erwin Randall, and we’re heading to the North Port in Ravel.

LUDWIG: I’m sorry to say, there are no ships to Ravel today. You’ll have to wait…(sifts through a stack of papers)

LUDWIG: For two days. Contact me in due time, and I’ll make sure you get passage.

LUDWIG: (Waves them away with a sweep of his hand.) Next!

CAPTAIN: (Walks away with EARL.)

CAPTAIN: (Whispers to EARL.) Erwin, this is worse than we thought. Ludwig(in air quotes) looks exactly like Vance Ricards. And do you know who Vance Ricards is? The deckhand of the Heart of Evil. Erwin, if you ever get a ship, please spare me by not naming it something so cheesy as Heart of Evil.

EARL: Yes, father.

CAPTAIN: Now, come on. We must get back to our boat and find another island.

EARL: Captain?

CAPTAIN: We can’t take our chances with Aesir Linderson, it’ll be way too -

EARL: Captain!

CAPTAIN: Yes?

EARL: Our boat’s probably gone by now. We didn’t have any rope to dock it, remember?

CAPTAIN: Argh! Looks like we do have to take our chances with Aesir LINDERSON.

CAPTAIN: We’ll have to find a place to stay first.

CAPTAIN: (Looks around, and finds a hotel)

CAPTAIN: We shall stay in the Green Eel, then. Come on Erwin. (EARL and the CAPTAIN walk towards the Green Eel and push open the door)

PROPRIETOR: Hello! Do you need a room?

CAPTAIN: Can I have a room for two, please?

PROPRIETOR: Well, I’ll need your full name and the way you’ll be payin’.

CAPTAIN: Maurice Randall, and I’ll be paying in cash.

PROPRIETOR: Thank you! I’ll need half o’ the money now, you can give me the rest when you leave.

CAPTAIN: (searches for spare coins)

CAPTAIN: Give me a second…

PROPRIETOR: If you don’t got money, you can get a room for free if you can catch ‘em or get some information on these wanted criminals.

PROPRIETOR: (pulls out a few posters)

PROPRIETOR: Their names are Wesley Jon, Roger Greenbeard, and uh, Douglas Perkins, who looks a lot like (looks up nervously) …you.

CAPTAIN: Douglas Perkins is my cousin, and the last time I saw him he was sailing off to become a merchant. I only wish I could have been there to help him. He’s sent me a couple of letters, though I'm an honest citizen and don’t want that kind of trouble.

PROPRIETOR: Yeah, well, you got any info on him? That’ll be a free room.

CAPTAIN: Well, his ship is called the Serendipity, and the last time he sent a letter it was from Schubert. Is that enough?

PROPRIETOR: Sure, that’s enough. Yer room is 108, and here are the keys. Enjoy your room!

(EARL and the CAPTAIN walk to their room. It’s a small but clean room with two beds placed parallelly and a small table in between.)

CAPTAIN: Well, this is a very nice room.

Act ii

(There is a rustling noise, and two people wearing only enter the room, while EARL and the CAPTAIN continue sleeping. The first one is clean-shaven and tall, while the other is tall but has a long beard.)

INTRUDER #1: There he is! The one who the proprietor said was here.

INTRUDER #2: Should we get the lackey?

INTRUDER #1: Sure, we don’t want another threat on our hands. Besides, it’s two v. two. We can take them!

(INTRUDER #1 and INTRUDER #2 pick up EARL and the CAPTAIN and haul them offstage.)

(The next scene is on a prop of a boat, complete with a gangplank. EARL and the CAPTAIN are tied up on deck. A man, presumably Aesir LINDERSON stands above them, while INTRUDER #1 and INTRUDER #2 stand off to the side.)

AESIR LINDERSON: Wake them up.

INTRUDER #1: (picks up megaphone from the deck)

INTRUDER #1: WAKE UP!

(The CAPTAIN startles awake, but EARL stays asleep)

CAPTAIN: Darn it Earl, just another minute.

AESIR LINDERSON: I don’t think you have another minute, Maurice.

CAPTAIN: Aesir!

AESIR LINDERSON: The walls have eyes, too, Maurice, not just ears. You should know that after our conflict in Liszt.

CAPTAIN: I knew you would be here!

AESIR LINDERSON: It’s my city, Maurice, of course, I would be here. And you’ve been so kind to come here, offering yourself up on a silver platter.

CAPTAIN: We were stranded here! I would never come to your - your dump otherwise.

AESIR LINDERSON: Brave words from a cowardly person, and that’s a pathetic excuse. Now that you’re here, however, I suppose it’s finally time to get rid of you and your lackey.

THE BENEFITS OF ELECTRIC VEHICLES BY OMAR RON

Ever thought about the carbon footprint of your car? Well, according to the United States Environmental Protection Agency, “A typical passenger vehicle emits about 4.6 metric tons of carbon dioxide per year.” They also make 41% of transport related greenhouse gas emissions, says 8 Million Trees. Compare that to an electric vehicle (EV) which produces… None!

Some might think that the production emissions of building the battery, and the power plant costs outweigh the benefit of an electric car. According to the US EPA both accusations are unfounded. EVs have no tailpipe emissions, which make up 74% of emissions in gasoline powered cars. While it is true that the upfront production environmental costs are greater, the lower emissions allow the EV to break even. To further reduce carbon footprint batteries are being recycled and, plus, there is a rise in sustainable energy production.

Others might argue about the range of the car. They complain: “The range of the car will be too small. I’ll never get anywhere!” In fact, an average EV can go 250-300 miles on a single charge, while high end luxury cars and drive for 500, according to U.S. News. 250 miles is around four to five hours of driving. Most people will probably take a break before this time is over.

Even if you have amazing range, some people will still stubbornly argue a losing case. They say that there is nowhere to charge. There are many places to charge, but the best place is your home. Tesla sells large batteries that you can put on your house, and can even serve as a power supply in the case of a blackout. You can also get incentives for installing a home charger. Even if you are away from home, there are many charging posts, some of them also installed by Tesla. Now states are focusing on adding charging outlets. In the future, they may be as common as gas stations.

“What about the price?” you may be asking. This is the most argued topic. CBS News reported that, as of February 22, “The Tesla Model 3 now starts at $43,000, not including the $7,500 tax credit Americans can get for buying an electric vehicle.” and “At the same time, new gas-powered cars have been increasing in price, with the average cost of a new car in January sitting at $49,388, a 6% increase from a year earlier, according to Kelley Blue Book data.” This data shows that gas-powered cars will just get more expensive, making electric cars a better and better option. Although the price may be lower, you may still think about your electric bill. Even if gas prices go down, the price will still be less, especially at peak hours, says U.S. News.

I’ve been talking a lot about how arguments against electric cars are unfounded, but why should you buy them? First, most electric cars come with the latest cutting edge technology. Because many models are new, they come with new technology to match the date. They usually have screens and, in Tesla models, they even have games! They also usually have over-the-air software updates, saving you time and money!

Electric cars also have less maintenance costs. They have less moving parts, which means less wear. They also don’t use oil, which means no oil changes. They also use regenerative braking, so they have far less wear on the brakes. Their battery also gets charged when they do this. They do, of course, require some level of maintenance, but all in all, it is less.

With all this in mind you might be fooled into thinking that these are the only benefits. You would be wrong. The ride is very smooth as in these comments provided by CleanTechnica: “Going green is nice and all, but they are just straight up superior vehicles in almost every way. It costs me less money to operate. It has

better performance and a smoother ride.” and “Absolutely. My wife thought that there was something wrong with her car when we took it in a trip recently because it seemed really rough. When it turned out to be fine, she said ‘Huh. Guess I’m just used to riding in your car’.” You can see the superiority of green vehicles is quite obvious now.

All in all, it comes back to the one that everyone talks about: electric vehicles are green. They produce less carbon emissions and are great for the environment compared to gas powered cars. Perhaps iIt’s best said by Forth Executive Director Jeff Allen: “This is probably the highest impact thing you can do, as an individual, is to buy an electric vehicle.”

A PLASTIC WORLD BY YUSUF ATTARAS

Imagine a world where the streets are filled with plastic bags and all sorts of other kinds of plastic waste. That could be our planet in a few decades. It is estimated that by 2050 there will be 26 metric tons or 573,201,881,680,068 pounds of plastic on the planet. You might think that is not a lot but think about how light weight plastic is and how many plastic bags will be flying around on streets. Today people think plastic will not harm anyone but they are wrong. Plastic bags are harmful to every aspect of this planet. Plastic is because it is very expensive to make and to clean up after, is harmful to wildlife and marine life, and is also harmful to human health.

First, plastic bags are very expensive not in currency but in natural resources. Each year 12 million barrels of crude oil are used to make all the plastic needed in the US. In each barrel there is 42 gallons of crude oil which adds up to 504,000,000 gallons of crude oil used for plastic production per year. At this rate the US. will run out of crude oil in about 5 years. It is estimated that in 50 years the world will run out of all its oil supply. Not only are they very expensive in natural resources but they are expensive when being cleaned up. The U.S. spends 15 billion dollars a year to clean up only a portion of the plastic in this country. As you can see, creating plastic and cleaning it is very expensive.

There are many animals that suffer from plastic in their natural habitats such as turtles. Each year 100 million marine animals die from ingesting plastic or getting tangled in it. Not only marine life is affected however. Elephants, tigers, and zebras or only a few land animals that have to deal with human junk in their natural habitat. As you can see, plastic is extremely dangerous to many species of animals. Every minute a whole garbage truck worth of plastic is poured into the ocean every minute.

You might not care about wildlife and say that many people have no compassion for it. First of all, yes you are right, some people do not care about the environment but everyone cares about themselves. Plastic is extremely harmful to humans in many stages of its production. As crude oil it pollutes the air. Even in its final stage when we see it as a plastic bag or object it is still harmful. Plastic can cause cancer. Did you know that 75% of the fish an average person eats has ingested plastic? Each person inhales about 22,000,000 micro and nanoplastics a year. That is about how much plastic there is in a credit card. This is how plastic is harmful to humans and causes death and many diseases.

Plastic is harmful to the air because of crude oil and is harmful to animals when it is misplaced in the oceans or on land. Lastly it is harmful to humans in both of those ways. As we concluded, plastic is harmful to the planet, to animals, and to us humans. This is why everyone needs to help to reduce their use of plastic. Some ways to do that can be simply to use a reusable water bottle or shopping bags. Another very important way is to not use plastic bags like ziplocks as lunch containers. Instead you can find a reusable container. If you want to keep eating fish without getting sick I suggest that you reduce your use of plastic.

IN FAVOR OF SPACE TRAVEL BY AASIYAH SIDDIQUI

To all those space haters out there: What if America had never landed on the Moon? Russia would have beaten us in the Cold War and the Space Race. Without space travel, a lot of people would still be curious about our universe. We would not know about the climate and terrain of Mars, for instance, and the fact that colonization is possible within our lifetimes. Think of it this way: you do not have to go to space. Rather, let the people who risk their life to help our Earth do it.

The reasons people have for not liking space travel are not good at all. Most people who are anti-space are people who hate the government. Perhaps if we go to space, we can find solutions to our problems here on Earth. For instance, there is a satellite in space that measures the soil moisture levels on Earth, called the SMAP mission. It helps us by measuring the soil moisture on Earth. That is tremendously useful.

There are three specific reasons why we should go to space. Number 1: the materials, technology, and chemicals used to go to space can be used here on Earth. For example, the scratch resistant lens, insulin pump, and solar cells were all made because they needed something like it in space. Number 2: space travel also helps with weather monitoring, environmental monitoring, and satellite use, such as GPS. All of these things didn’t just magically appear; they were all done by space travel. Reason Number 3 is a little more forward-looking and speculative. Scientists have been thinking about colonizing space and planets to solve the problems of overpopulation and resource shortage on Earth. They are also thinking of extracting minerals and other materials rom asteroids, the moon, and other planets. This could solve the potential scarcity of Earth's resources in the distant future.

Another great example to point to is that NASA has sent a telescope, called the Hubble Telescope, into space, and it has captured multiple images of our vast universe. These missions help us understand more about our universe. In addition, space travel can also help with jobs. Thousands of people work with space travel-related jobs like NASA and SpaceX. These are only two examples, but there are many more. Space travel can help our species here on Earth because by going to space, we could be taking a step into developing ourselves as a longer-term surviving species. Lest we forget that people make money for working in the space travel field. If you were to halt space travel, you could be taking someone's livelihood away from them. My teacher's associate, Robert Goyal, hates space travel. He thinks that space travel is too expensive and for all the money that NASA spends on space exploration, there have been no major accomplishments since 1969 when Neil Armstrong landed on the moon. Instead, that money should be given to Elon Musk so he can end world hunger. He argues that Elon Musk does a better job with SpaceX than NASA does with American money. However, what I would like to say to people like Robert Goyal is that Elon Musk is wasting his money by sending Teslas to space (one of his many hairbrained ideas). He also has his own private spaceship and is sending people into space through that, which is completely unnecessary. He is the one who is wasting money, not NASA. Robert Goyal also believes that NASA exists to provide cushy government jobs to overeducated PhDs who look down on the hoi-polloi of America. In other words, NASA is just a money sink. It’s true that SpaceX is doing a better job than NASA in some ways, but Musk spent $100 million dollars just to initially launch SpaceX, has subsequently raised another $2 billion over the years, and he's probably spending more money now that SpaceX is growing. NASA's budget for the financial year (FY) 2020 is $22.6 billion. They are getting 220 times Elon Musk’s money, yet Robert argues that they aren’t doing anything substantial.

However, has he heard of the Webb Telescope launched by NASA last year? It is already discovering large quantities of new information about the universe never known before, including finding the most distant galaxies ever and the discovery of new, potentially habitable planets! Ultimately, I don’t mind who does the space exploration as long as the space exploration gets done, so I agree with Elon Musk’s vision, as well as NASA’s project plans. As long as space travel continues, I think most people will be happy. I think Robert Goyal should read this op-ed so that he learns why to not hate space travel.

In conclusion, Robert Goyal and all the other space haters out there are incorrect. He is far too shortsighted about the merits of space travel. He fails to realize that the future of Earth will and must involve space colonization. Countries like China are already ahead of the United States in terms of math and science research & development related to space travel. He doesn't realize that scientists and companies, such as SpaceX, are already in the process of laying out and implementing the plan to colonize Mars within our lifetimes. And they won't stop at Mars; from there, they will be looking to colonize new planets. Robert Goyal is not thinking about the future of our planet, or even the future of himself and his progeny - he only has the present in mind. As long as we continue to invest in space travel, we might solve problems here on Earth for generations to come.

GETTING TO A LEVEL PLAYING FIELD

BY RANA O. AND FATIMA E.

Imagine just graduating from college and being offered a huge job, but then learning that your salary is less than a man’s who was offered the same job. Back in the 1900s, people were fighting for women’s right to vote. Finally in 1920 they got the right to vote. But for many that was just the beginning. For 102 years women have been fighting for equal rights. Now it’s 2022 and things have most definitely changed. Some say women have a lot more rights and are treated a lot more differently than they were originally. Let’s look at some statistics to show if women really are as equal as men are.

Today, according to Pew Research Center, women make 82% of what men make in the United States, and they’d have to work 47 extra days to catch up to their salary. That’s more than a month. It’s true that more men hold full-time jobs than women (according to the Census Bureau) and perhaps put in longer hours as a result, which may lead to higher incomes. However, the nearly 25% increase in female full-time workers from 2000 to 2019 suggests that more women may be working longer hours as well, a change that appears to have had little effect on their pay. There are 71.51 million men working, and 71.75 million women working in the U.S., but for women to catch up to mens’ salaries, 15.5 million more women would have to work. This is beyond belief.

In addition, nowadays, something called Pink Tax is also taking place. This means that any feminine products, including girls’ toys, tend to cost 7% more than masculine products. Which leads us to the question, do women really have equal treatment they were hoping for? Sure things have definitely gotten better since the 1900s, but with the much more modern and developing world we live in are things really at the best they could be? According to modern ideas and the modern world we are positive that gender equality is not at its fullest.

Most people don’t even consider the fact that there hasn’t been a female president in 246 years since the U.S. was established. However this is not just the case with presidents, all types of managerial positions lack female workers. Only 27.9% of women occupy managerial jobs. That isn’t even close to half. America gives us the impression that it is all about equality and freedom, but then again what you see on the outside may not be what you see on the inside. Bias to women is engraved into the center of society.

There are people who might think that these numbers are so low because women aren’t interested in occupying managerial positions. But that’s not the case. While women’s lack of interest might be one of the reasons for their absence in government, the main reason is the pervasive notion that women are inferior to men. This leads to people in society praising, supporting, advising, and inspiring men more than women. If women aren’t given these and are instead constantly suppressed by the people around them, how can they gather the courage to express their thoughts and opinions and pursue their aspirations? This is the real reason that political positions are missing women.

In 1972, the Congress passed the Equal Rights Amendment, which prohibited discrimination based on the person’s sex. However, three states didn’t approve it, and since then, the states and the federal government have been said to have sufficient laws, so the constitution never guaranteed gender equality. Yet, women are still being treated unfairly in their professional lives and more! Clearly, the current laws are not working!

Things won’t change until the people’s ideas of equality change. Passing the ERA should be the first priority. What more, if the USA, the proverbial land of freedom, is like this, what about the rest of the world? What do we know about how women are treated elsewhere?

1 Only 27% of the House of Representatives, 24% of the Senate, 38% of the democrats, 14% of the republicans, 20% of the congress, and 4% of the Supreme Court of Justices are women.

p. 8

p. 8 TWO WORDS

p. 9 MY LIFE AS A GHOST

p. 10 THIS TOO SHALL PASS

p. 11 MY SWEET LITTLE STRAWBERRY

p. 12

p. 13 A CONSECUTIVE TAP

p. 13 WORK TO LIVE

p. 14 ON INDUSTRIOUSNESS

p. 16 KAUAI

p. 16 A CHANGE OF PLANS

p. 17 A HIKE

p. 18 THE MOUNTAINS

p. 19

p. 20 BOVINE APPRECIATION POST

p. 21 THE COLORS OF THE WORLD

p. 22

p. 23 PLAY

p. 23

p. 24 BAZAAR

p. 25 MISSING

p. 26

p. 27 APOLOGIES

p. 28 THE SYMPHONY

p. 29 PEACE BE UPON YOU

p. 30 THE TALK ISA HASAN

p. 31 SELF-ESTEEM

p. 32 THE THORNE CHRONICLES, VOLUME 1, CHAPTER 1

p. 35 MISTILIERY, THE MAGIC GHOST CAT, CHAPTER 1

p. 40 THE KASBAGH, CHAPTER 1: MAGIC AND MACHINATIONS

p. 47 LAYLA, WORLD TRAVELER, CHAPTER 1: ARCTIC ADVENTURE

p. 48 THE INHERITORS OF THE STAR SPIRIT, PROLOGUE, CHAPTER 1, & CHAPTER 2

p. 52 THE LEGEND OF THE WALKING STICK

p. 53 SERPENT OF THE DEEP: AN EPIC POEM

p. 57 BRADLEY AND THE AMAZON RAINFOREST: AN EPIC POEM

p. 62 KATRINA'S LIMERICK

p. 63 THE TALE FO THE UNLUCKY SHIPWRECK, ACTS 1 AND 2

p. 68 THE BENEFITS OF ELECTRIC VEHICLES

p. 70 A PLASTIC WORLD

p. 71 IN FAVOR OF SPACE TRAVEL

p. 73 GETTING TO A LEVEL PLAYING FIELD

MINNAH SARHAN

OMAR RON

RANA O.

ISA HASAN

MARIAM MOHAMMED

RANA O.

ISA HASAN

YUSUF ATTARAS

ZYAD ELWAZEER

IBRAHIM ATTARAS

UNAYSAH RON

OMAR RON

YUSUF ATTARAS

AASIYAH SIDDIQUI

FATIMA E. AND RANA O.

PHOTO & ART CREDITS

Mediums: Digital art, acrylic paintings, ink drawings, pottery, textile art, mosaic art, 3D printing, and photography

p. 1 Evgeni Tcherkasski (photograph) - Unsplash

p. 2 Sanya Virani, “Cherry Blossom Whimsy” (painting)

p. 4-5 Ali Hasan, “The Divi-Divi Tree”; Location: Aruba (photograph)

p. 11 Mujtaba Mirza, “Potted Strawberry” (photograph)

p. 13 Ali Hasan, “Half Dome Sunset”; Location: Yosemite National Park, CA (photograph)

p. 14 Ali Hasan, “Cityscape”; Location: Lisbon, Portugal (photograph)

p. 15 Mujtaba Mirza, “Farmer’s Market Sunday” (photograph)

p. 16 Ali Hasan, “The Beach Umbrella”; Location: Maui, Hawaii (photograph)

p. 17 Ali Hasan, “Trees to Heaven”; Location: Sequoia National Park, CA (photograph)

p. 18 Sanya Virani, “A New Dawn” (painting)

p. 19 Ali Hasan, “Concrete Divers”; Location: Dubai Mall, Dubai, UAE (photograph)

p. 20 Celine Fulle (photograph) - Unsplash

p. 21 Mujtaba Mirza, “Lemon Tree Bounty” (photograph)

p. 22 Mujtaba MIrza, “Quadrangle”; Location: Stanford University, CA (photograph)

p. 23 Ali Hasan, “Sonoma Sunset”; Location: Sonoma County, Hwy 1, CA (photograph)

p. 24 Ali Hasan, “Mughlai”; Location: Jama Masjid, Delhi, India (photograph)

p. 25 Sanya Virani, “The Vanishing Girl” (painting)

p. 26 Ali Hasan, “Divine Tree”; Location: Cabo San Lucas, Mexico (photograph)

p. 27 Ali Hasan, “Celestial Dessert”; Location: Melbourne, Australia (photograph)

p. 28-29 Ali Hasan, “A Day for Surfing”; Location: Maui, Hawaii (photograph)

p. 30 Ali Hasan, “Valley of Fog”; Location: Whistler, Canada (photograph)

p. 31 Sanya Virani, “Resplendent Feline” (painting)

p. 32-33 Ali Hasan, “Frond”; Location: Maui, Hawaii (photograph)

p. 34 Ali Hasan, “The Door”; Location: Cairo, Egypt (photograph)

p. 41-42 Ali Hasan, “Arches”; Location: Sheikh Zayed Mosque, Abu Dhabi, UAE (photograph)

p. 48 Omar Ron, “Ink Hypnosis” (drawings)

p. 49 Unaysah Ron, “The Emperor” (painting)

p. 53 Sanya Virani, “Babbling Brook” (painting)

p. 54 Ali Hasan, “Golden Shower”; Location: Maui, Hawaii (photograph)

p. 57 Ali Hasan, “Corner of the World”; Location: Queensland, Australia (photograph)

p. 59 Mariam Mohammed, “The Kaaba” (mosaic art)

p. 64 Ali Hasan, “Praying”; Location: Santa Maria de Belem Church, Portgual (photograph)

p. 69 Group Work, “Oceans of Yarn” (textile art)

p. 71 Mujtaba Mirza, “Tesla” (photograph)

p. 72 Naja Bertolt Jensen (photograph) - Unsplash

p. 76 Sanya Virani, “A Girl in the City” (painting)

p. 77 Unaysah Ron, “Miscellaneous Pottery” (pottery)

p. 77 Group Work, “3D Printing Pieces” (3D printing)

p. 81 Ali Hasan, “Family of Palms”; Location: Palm Springs, CA (photograph)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

A huge thank you to the team and all our advisors (with their official titles listed below):

Ibrahim, Head Soccer Coach

Yusuf Attaras, Meme Lord

Yousof Elwazeer, Dairy Farmer

Zyad Elwazeer, Scoutmaster

Ali Hasan, Chief Lego Architect

Mariam Mohammed, Queen of Roses

Omar Ron, Math Ninja & Resident Sorceror

Unaysah Ron, Team Librarian & The Second Oldest (and don’t you forget it)

Minnah Sarhan, President of the Maher Zain Fan Club

Aasiyah Siddiqui, Shifu Supreme

Mr. John, Boba Tea & Pavlova Supply Chain Manager

Ms. Tingting, Ranch 99 Affiliate Program Head

Ms. Sanya, Atheisure Advertising Director

Ms. Maddie, Greek Goddess

Ms. Gaurika, Python Kai Headmistress

Ms. Lena, Team Spiritual Advisor

Ms. Minerva, Ms. Lulu, & Ms. Lupe, Secret Weapon Taskforce

Husna B., Fatima E., Rana O., Yusuf I. - We miss you!

Muddy Mug, the Bane of Our Existence

Finally, thank you to our parents and siblings for their eternal support and patience.

From The Royal Jester, Your Loyal Servant, Isa

Copyright © 2023 by The Elixir

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any forms by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to theelixir@gmail.com.

Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously, other than in the op-eds. Names, characters, and places are the products of the authors’ imaginations, other than in the op-eds.

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