Part Three: Fall | The Glass Knife 2023

Fall

not wilt to reveal the thin shoots of some new desire rising from within it.”

— George Saunders, Escape From Spiderhead

Appreciation

Driving home with him, arguing about some bull we’ll forget He tells me I have no respect for him, but he treats me like his biggest regret

We come home and we’re still arguing and we don’t talk for some time I wonder what life would be like without him, that thorn in my side

Always pressing me about “do that!” and “do this!”

One day without him is my only wish

Him unable to stand up, no this can’t be

Taken away in an ambulance, a tear in my eye Wondering if he’s going to die

Wait at home for hours feeling sick

She tells me “your dad had a stroke” and I lost it

All of those arguments, all of those bridges I’ve lit

About how we treat our own

About how neglect to respect our loved ones, or to even say hi

the glass knife

Shells Kaitlyn Dias ’24

Ephemera Adam Akins ’23

Photography

What I See

EXPLICIT CONTENT WARNING

When you look at your skin, do you see yourself as a person of this nation? When I look down at my skin, I see an abomination.

I see the history of forced migrations to a foreign land, the ancestors of my heritage in whips In shackles

In chains

In plantations as slaves, living the rest of their lives in damnation

I see the hangings, the bombs, the dogs, the separations of families and the sellings of loved ones

When I look down at my skin, I see the media’s stereotypes and accusations on my people I see drugs and thugs and alcohol,

I see dealers and hood hoodlums

I see monkeys, ghetto kids, ratchet adults, rioters, dangers to the nation,

I see big nose, big chains

The fetishes.

I see the angry black women or the deadbeat dads of men

I see a joke

I see a threat

armed, carrying a weapon, and resisting arrest

Until you look past the news and realarmed, carrying a weapon, and resisting arrest

Was really an innocent child.

When I look down at my skin, I see the complications of living in this hatestruggles

I hear conversations about what being black means

And if one is too black

Or not black enough

The negatives.

I see big lips, big butt

I watch the news and see another person with my same skin

the glass knife

On posters and banners, on clothing

and now

As others parade down the street for the who knows how many times this month With that person and their name being avenged

Til they are forgotten and it happens again as the cycle repeats

A father

A mother

A kid

A sibling

An aunt

An uncle

A niece

A nephew

A cousin

A neighbor

A friend

Dead.

Just because of the color of their skin

I see people getting beat to death

Because of the color of their skin.

I see people getting choked to death

Because of the color of their skin.

I see people getting shot to death

Because of the color of the skin.

House slaves versus Field Slaves turned Light Skinned versus Dark Skinned Whips turned Lynches turned Pepper Sprays And Teargas And Rubber Movement to Black Lives Matter

Slave Masters turned KKK turned Pigs killing my people shouting Blue Lives Matter in opposition to our Black Lives Matter

As if they have to live every second of their lives being Blue, and that’s not something they can change

As if being Black is just a job or a lives in fear that no matter where you go, someone somewhere will always see you as

An Abomination

An Atrocity

A Juvenile

A Lawless Delinquent

A Source of Hatred

A Source of Animosity

A Dark Evil

A Nigger.

Or Nigga, depending on who you ask.

I notice the parallels between then

And trust me, It’s no easy job being a Nigga.

Thoughts of Us, excerpt

by Kate Barnes ’27

1ST PLACE, 2023 MIDDLE SCHOOL WRITING CONTEST

answered, irritated. “Okay, but call us if you need anything, and we can come pick you up,” said my dad.

Iwindow, the car speeding down a winding road hugging the side of a -

from the land around where I was born in New Mexico.ley, on the shore of a small lake that reminded me of where he died. We came to a stop in front of the main building through the trees.

The sun was setting, sinking below the mountains; night fell faster here in their shadow. My parents turned to look at me anxiously.

“Rosie, are you sure you’re okay with this?” asked my mother. “We want you death, she meant.

“But we also don’t want to upset you.”

I know she meant well, they both did, but I was tired of them treating me like a glass bomb, likely to either break or explode.

Maybe ‘glass bomb’ is not the right metaphor. To them, I was already broing me in, I was relieved when they headed toward the door. They didn’t look back.

Chapter II

I woke up the next morning feeling disoriented. I blinked, staring blankly at the underside of a bed; I was on the bottom bunk. I wasn’t used to waking up that early, and when I turned my head to look out the small window, the sky was a light shade of gray.

I had an odd feeling, as if I had forgotten something, but didn’t know what.ly-morning sounds of the town where I lived. The only sound was the sound of the other girls’ breathing and a faint strain of birdsong. I closed my eyes, and suddenly the memory resurfaced of the place where it happened, no doubt brought on by the similar circumstances. In a cabin in the woods, by a small, but deep, lake. . . I screwed my eyes shut and rolled onto my side in my sleeping bag, determined to go back to sleep.

hall a few hours later, the counselors encouraged us to get to know our cabinmates. I learned that two of them were sisters, Lisa and Katie, and that the other one was named Krista. Lisa and Katie kept to themselves, but Krista, on the other hand, was friendly and outgoing to the extreme. When she turned to me, her eyes bright and searching, I admit, I was a little intimidated.

“So, Rosie, right?” She began, and

“My name’s Krista, and do you know what we’re doing today? I heard we’re going to go kayaking, or maybe hiking. I’ve never been hiking. I want to, though. Do you like hiking?”

I blinked, her attitude taking me by surprise; she was so cheerful that you would think we were going to Disneyland.

“I mean,” I replied, unable to imagine being so enthusiastic about nature camp. “I guess it depends where I’m hiking.” She stared at me, and I felt the need to elaborate “I’d rather hike in a forest than a desert.” I continued. “It’s less hot and there are more things to see . . . ?” I don't know why I made that sound like a question, except maybe it was because she kept staring at me, like meaning in my words.

Then she surprised me by answering my question-I-didn’t-know-I-was-asking with another question.

“But wouldn’t just being out there make up for the weather or whatever? Like, wouldn’t the fact that you’re there seeing it all make up for the things you don’t want to see?” She sounded slightly desperate.

I just stared. Who is this girl? But I could see now in her eyes a hint of vulnerability, a hint of insecurity. I felt to mirror hers. This has always been my best defense mechanism; if I act like the other person, they’ll accept me, respect me.

In response to her question, I said want to see.”

Obviously, we became friends.

Read more from “Thoughts of Us” here

the glass knife

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Fiona,

Elementum eu facilisis sed odio morbi. Etiam dignissim diam quis enim lobortis scelerisque fer mentum. Ipsum nunc aliquet bibendum enim facilisis. Pellentesque nec nam aliquam sem et tortor consequat id porta. Nisl rhoncus mattis rhoncus urna neque. Tellus at urna condimentum mattis pellentesque id nibh tortor id. At urna condimentum mattis pellentesque id. Tincidunt eget nul lam non nisi est sit amet facilisis magna. Consectetur purus ut faucibus pulvinar. Pellentesque dignissim enim sit amet venenatis urna cursus eget nunc. Dui accumsan sit amet nulla facili si morbi. Venenatis tellus in metus vulputate eu. Aliquet nibh praesent tristique magna sit amet purus. Ridiculus mus mauris vitae ultricies leo integer. Tempus quam pellentesque nec nam ali quam sem. Vulputate ut pharetra sit amet aliquam id diam maecenas ultricies. Diam quis enim

on wood panel

lobortis scelerisque fermentum dui faucibus. Dui vivamus arcu felis bibendum ut tristique et. Non pulvinar neque laoreet suspendisse interdum consectetur libero id faucibus. Mollis nunc sed id semper risus in. Mauris commodo quis imperdiet massa tincidunt nunc pulvinar sapi en et. Tortor at auctor urna nunc id cursus. Sed turpis tincidunt id aliquet. Amet dictum sit amet justo donec. Non odio euismod lacinia at quis risus sed. Odio facilisis mauris sit amet massa vi tae. Mauris pellentesque pulvinar pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et. Cras -adip iscing enim eu turpis egestas pretium aenean pharetra magna. Rutrum quisque non tellus orci ac auctor augue. Laoreet sit amet cursus sit amet dictum sit amet. Massa vitae tortor -condi mentum lacinia quis. Quis blandit turpis cursus in. Eu mi bibendum neque egestas congue quisque egestas. Sit amet venenatis urna cursus eget. Augue neque gravida in fermentum et sollicitudin. Eget dolor morbi non arcu risus. Interdum velit euismod in pellentesque massa -plac erat duis ultricies lacus. Amet mauris commodo quis imperdiet massa tincidunt nunc pulvinar. Amet dictum sit amet justo donec. Amet consectetur adipiscing elit ut aliquam. Id -consecte tur purus ut faucibus pulvinar elementum. In hendrerit gravida rutrum quisque non. Sit amet aliquam id diam maecenas ultricies mi. Arcu risus quis varius quam. Purus faucibus ornare -sus pendisse sed nisi lacus sed. Sed lectus vestibulum mattis ullamcorper. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur. Tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames. In dictum non consectetur a erat nam at. Massa enim nec dui nunc mattis. Mattis pellentesque id nibh tortor. Sit amet nisl suscipit adipiscing bibendum est ultricies integer. Praesent elementum facilisis leo vel fringilla. At volutpat diam ut venenatis tellus in metus vulputate eu. Senectus et netus et malesuada fames. Adipiscing at in tellus integer feugiat scelerisque. Vestibulum mattis ullamcorper velit sed ullamcor per. Commodo quis imperdiet massa tincidunt nunc pulvinar sapien et ligula. Nec nam aliquam sem et tortor consequat. Odio ut enim blandit volutpat maecenas volutpat blandit aliquam. Ut venenatis tellus in metus vulputate eu scelerisque felis imperdiet. Euismod nisi porta lorem mollis aliquam ut porttitor leo. Ac feugiat sed lectus vestibulum mattis ullamcorper velit. A diam sollicitudin tempor id eu nisl nunc mi. Amet massa vitae tortor condimentum lacinia quis vel eros donec. Quam pellen tesque nec nam aliquam sem et tortor consequat id. Egestas sed tempus urna et pharetra pharetra massa massa. Integer eget aliquet nibh praesent tristique magna sit amet purus. In metus vulputate eu

A new genesis every day

by Adam Akins ’23

The seventh day of rest never reached this place

It's still turning and raw, Parts of reality coming together and tearing apart

Here as captive, yet content admires, of the garden. Seeing a new world born and reassembled every hour, never sleeping ever awake, lost in the trance

Eden spores for us, it draws in and demands our peace,

time, everything it can take.

Sentinel — the watcher and the post — inseparable, a lesion on the beauty of this place, Slowly eroded by the crashing tide of this new world an insidious creep taking more and more

It makes new life from us, When we are done, Eden keeps going.

Watchful Eye Alex Shuler ’24

Photography

Toxicity composed by System of a Down

Drums

Lie Down Natalie Park ’23 Stamp

Valiski, Act I

by Ishaan Sekhon ’24

1ST PLACE, 2023 HIGH SCHOOL WRITING CONTEST

Her nails were sharp, occasionally piercing the boy’s skin. Nikolai’s blood fell slowly across his body, dispersing

Tboy’s nose as he stared at the clouds. The sound of the droplets smacking the leaves rang through the

Then the woman moved towards his Nikolai immediately jerked his head back, but his father grabbed it and held him still.

A single droplet fell on the boy’s bare skin. A cold, stinging chill erupted across his body and fell down his spine.

“Bear it, Nikolai. Much worse will come,” a voice told him.

His father stood beside him and rest-derly woman chanted and danced slowly but unorthodoxly. She held a small cup of ground up herbs into the air to catch the falling droplets.

The elder stirred the mixture in her armorial red. The elder, still chanting, walked slowly towards Nikolai. The woman jabbed the boy in the heart with

The woman’s nails clawed underneath the boy’s eyes. Blood seeped out and merged with the vermillion marks the body shuddered as the elder dipped hertowards him eerily.

Twang. Nikolai screamed in horror as stumbled backward, a ghastly look of shock on her face. Her trembling hands clutched the arrow embedded in her side, then she collapsed.

Nikolai’s father threw him to the ground, then drew his ax. He swung itsander,” a voice said gleefully, almost howling. A giant lumbered into view.

Nikolai gasped for breath. He nearly fell to his knees, but his father forced him upright. His eyes widened as the elderly woman began to draw on his body.

He tossed his bow to the side, then drew his sword. The man’s chest and stomach were riddled with scars that twisted and wormed all across his body.

the glass knife

On his face, in place of an eye, lay a twisted, burnt hole. metal.

“Valiski.” His father, Aleksander, scowled hatefully at the one eyed man.

“Papa!” Nikolai screamed. Tears streamed down Nikolai’s face as he fell to his knees in shock.

Nikolai screamed in agony as he sprinted towards his father. Nikolai shook his father’s body again and again and again and again and again.

Aleksander roared and ran towards their hunter, who did the same. The clangs of metal echoed across the forest. Aleksander swung at Valiski’s side, but he pivoted and blocked the blow.

Valiski lunged forward and thrust at Aleksander, but Aleksander blocked the blow. The hunter screamed as Aleksander relentlessly continued his Alexander’s body. Each one longer and deeper than the last.

Aleksander’s ax seemed to screechhis sword in the air and swung down. Aleksander blocked with his ax, but the metal weapon shattered into two.

Aleksander’s face widened in horror as the sword cleaved through his body and tore out his guts. Valiski roared triumphantly as Aleksander’s breathless body collapsed onto the ground.

“PAPA!” Nikolai cried out, screaming.

“Papa...” The boy broke down crying.

Valiski grunted in annoyance and walked towards the boy. He grabbed Nikolai and threw him to the ground. He stuck his hand in Aleksander’s corpse. Then Valiski marched towards Nikolai. He grabbed the boy by his neck and raised him in the air.

“Die a man,” he said, then slammed thrown against the ground. He whimpered weakly. He was a tattered, bloody, and bony mess of a child.

Valiski looked at Nikolai with disgust and walked away, spitting on the boy’s remains.

Brynne Barnard-Bahn ’23 Pen and paper

the glass knife

Brynne Barnard-Bahn ’23 Pen and paper

composed by Taj Mahal performed by David Kedem ’23 Piano

clementines

by Sage Spradlin ’23 clementines.

palms, to my wrists, and onto the grass. she put her citrus-stained hands to my face. i muttered some sound of inquiry and she smiled. the sun shined too bright in her golden eyes when she told me

she kissed the tears as they fell from my eyes and i knew i was forgiven.

The Glass Knife Editorial Board

Acknowledgments

The production of this 13th edition of the Glass Knife, only our second entirely attributed to the volumes of support we have received. We’d like to thank the high school teachers for granting extra credit for sub-

tional pieces for publication. Thank you to Ishaan Sekhon, Kate Barnes and Navina Singh, the winners of Dr. Novell’s school-wide writing contest, for graciously allowing us to print your work. To the three authors whose quotations we have borrowed — L.M. Montgomery, Tove Jansson and George Saunders — your work provided inspiration when we needed it most; even if it was unwitting support, we’re thankful for it. Finally, as always, Mrs. Strong, this edition would not be here without you. We couldn’t ask for a more patient or supportive adviser, and we’re impossibly grateful for all of your help this year.

Golden Gate Simon Lindenau ’26 Film