The Blackbird's Eye 2022

Blackbird’s Eye

Blackbird’s Eye

In May of 1974 the first Blackbird’s Eye was published as a culmination of a week-long program held at the School called “Poetry-in-Schools”. Internationally acclaimed poet Thomas Heffernan was the School’s “poet-inresidence”. In a poem written by the students titled “To Tom Heffernan” is where the title Blackbird’s Eye was derived.

Celebrating 50 Years

The O’Neal School proudly presents the Blackbird’s Eye as a professionally published literary magazine in celebration of the School’s 50 years and in gratitude to all who have contributed to showcasing the amazing literary and artistic work of O’Neal students.

Blackbird’s Eye Editorial Staff:

Talayah Baldwin

Ria Elamaran

Mia Franco Kristin Howell

Arden Johnson

Carson Pusser

Michaela Stone

Cover Art:

Front cover, Lauren Hobbs, 10

Back cover, Kaylee Wilson, 1

Blackbird’s Eye

TABLE of CONTENTS

Literature

Page

The Slide Carter Davies 6 The Snowman and the Snowdog Grace Ames 6

A Time to Rhyme

Ava Rose Decker Jael Dunbar Lena Lawrence Zeke Strickland Bradley Johnson Kelea Stone Elizabeth Gold Adin Seuk Marli Nelson Ahna Gonzalez Megan Caviness Willa Savely Patrick DeFreitas Bjorn Robinson

7 Puppy Theo Elwell 8 Small Toys Savannah Fager 8 Snowy Vivian Garcia 8 Birds Emma Globke 8 Soccer Gabe Groves 8 Bear Camden Lovsin 8 To be a Fish Knox Jackson 9

The O’Neal School Avery Pohlmeyer 9 Frankenstein Owen McManamon 10

Best Christmas Ever Charlotte Graves 11 White Tower Joe Amerson 11

Game Winning Tackle Nate Vogt 11 Lemonade Isabel Zajkowski 11 Eddie Isla Haughey 14

The Maine Moose Collins Walker 15 Whiteout Ava Bozovich 16

The Fall Squirrel Emma McDade 18 Life in Fall Tanner Kennedy 21 Fall Feeling Callie Garrison 21 It Is the Season Georgia Phillips 21 A Fall Carol Hannah Wilcox 22 Fall Feud Isla Riggsbee 25

The Most Magical Season of All Madelyn Wicks 27

The Peaceful Ride That Turned Into a Nightmare. Evalyn Blake 28 Lily and the Haunted Mansion Kaylee Hammond 31

The Trees Were on Fire Caitlin Blocklinger 32-33 A Meeting at Bentworth Campbell Medford 34-35

What Autumn Brings Charlotte Mills 37 Like Winter Morgan Lewis 38 Moments Refused Maxwell Epstein 40-41

TABLE of CONTENTS

Artwork

Page

Kangqi “New New” Hong 6 A.J. Peal 9

Travis Doody 10

Maxwell Epstein 12-13 Georgia Phillips 14 Morgan Lewis 15

Lucy Greenburg 19 Mary Earhart 20 Isabella Czarnik 23 Georgia Phillips 24 Jake Hanley 26 Chesley Lucas 29 Evalyn Blake 30 Noah Blocklinger 35 Lindsey Havenstein 36 Reily Johnson 37 Noah Bass 40

CONTESTS

The English department hosted a fall-themed writing contest. The season of transformation was used as a perfect opportunity to express oneself in poetry, prose, critical analysis, and/or other mediums like photography, painting, and collage.

Winners:

• Jake Hanley, 12 wins first place for his photo - Page 26

• Campbell Medford, 9 wins second place for her scary story - Page 34

• Charlotte Mills, 9 wins third place for her fall-themed essay - Page 37

In celebration of Earth Day, April 22nd, the science department held a photography contest and asked students and faculty to submit photos in the following categories:

• Enjoying the Earth - Winner Georgia Phillips, 6 Page 24

• The Earth Up Close - Winner Noah Blocklinger, 10 Page 35

• The Earth’s Landscapes and Wildlife - Winner Travis Doody, 9 Page 10

Honorable Mentions were:

Lucy Greenburg, 9 Page 19 | Evalyn Blake, 7 Page 30 | Georgia Phillips, 6 Page 14

Contest winners were determined by a vote from students and faculty.

The 2022 Blackbird’s Eye is dedicated to Tim Wenzel

This year’s Blackbird’s Eye is dedicated to a member of the faculty who has contributed countless things to The O’Neal School. He is dedicated to protecting the O’Neal community, educating students, coaching athletics, and helping in any way he can. He has an undergraduate degree in teaching and earned his bachelor’s degree from Thomas Edison State College for Criminal Justice and Police Science. After that, he attended the FBI National Academy where he earned his certificate in Advanced Police Administration Courses. Beginning his career as a dispatcher, he eventually became the Chief of Police at Watchung Police Department for twenty years and then, for five years, the Chief of Police at the Aberdeen Police Department. After years of hard work as Chief of Police, he accepted a position at The O’Neal School to pursue his love of teaching and coaching. For four years he has been the Director of Safety and Security as well as an assistant coach and teacher. He enriches student life by teaching a criminal justice class where he emphasizes and explains to students the importance of justice, law, and safety. With his dedication, he goes above and beyond by doing things such as organizing field trips to the Aberdeen Police Depart ment and bringing speakers with real life experience to share their stories and lessons with students. He has four kids and is from Dunellen, New Jersey. This year’s dedication goes to none other than Mr. Tim Wenzel.

The Bill Youngclaus Literary Award

The Bill Youngclaus Literary Award was established in the Spring of 2007. The award recognizes a student in each division exhibiting exemplary skills in creative writing while honoring its namesake, Bill Youngclaus. Mr. Youngclaus was an O’Neal parent, school trustee and avid writer himself.

Written by his wife, Lisa Youngclaus, the following was recited upon presenting the first awards 15 years ago:

“This award was created out of the generosity of many friends and family members who chose to honor their fond memories of Bill Youngclaus by making a memorial donation to The O’Neal School.

Bill Youngclaus was a brilliant, creative, talented man who attended Yale University on a full academic scholarship and graduated with an English degree. He pursued a successful career in the advertising business and lived and worked all over the world, mastering four different languages and assimilating to many cultures and ideas. But the language he loved most was the language of the written word. He read novels, plays, and poetry and he wrote fiction and poetry throughout his life.

Bill loved The O’Neal School for its high academic standards, its devoted faculty, and the loving, caring environment the School provided for his young son, Will ‘12. Bill served passionately on the O’Neal Board and dreamed of the School being able to fulfill all of Will’s dreams and the dreams of all the other students that call O’Neal their home.”

The poem or prose of each of the award winners is exhibited in Blackbird’s Eye

The 2022 Bill Youngclaus Literary Award Winners

Ava

Short Story Page: 16

Caitlin

Short Story Page: 32-33

Campbell Medford, 9 “A Meeting at Bentworth”

Short Story Page: 34-35

The Slide

I climbed up a big hill. Then I slid down. It was fun. We wanted to go again!

Carter

Davies, Kindergarten

The Snowman and the Snowdog

On a snowy day, I had a snowball fight with my brother. Next I built a snowman with a snow dog!

Grace Ames, Kindergarten

Kangqi “New New” Hong, 7

A Time to Rhyme

My doll was tall and went to the mall for the ball. She danced and sang until the clock rang. Ava-Rose Decker, 1

The cat is on the mat. The mat is on the rat. The rat is on the hat. The hat is on the bat. The bat is on the cat. Jael Dunbar, 1

The cat chased the rat to his hole. The cat lost the rat because he was too fat. Lena Lawrence, 1

The doll got the ball. The doll went to the mall. The doll ran down the hall. Zeke Strickland, 1

I see on the rug a bug giving a great big hug to the slug. Bradley Johnson, 1

My doll fell off the wall. She called Pop to make the hurt stop. Kelea Stone, 1

The dog made a hut on the rug, and the possum said his hut was awesome. Elizabeth Gold, 1

The bug said yes. The jug said no. So the bug ran to go. Adin Seuk, 1

I have a doll. She is very tall. The doll likes the mall to find a dress for the ball. Marli Nelson, 1

Miss Gonzalez took me to the mall with my doll. I have a broom in my room. It will sweep while I sleep. My doll fell off the wall and called me. I have a bug in my rug. Ahna Gonzalez, 1

The mouse lived in the house. The mouse liked cheese and her name was Louise. Meg Caviness, 1

At the awesome party a possum danced in a circle until he turned purple. Willa Savely, 1

The doll had a great fall. His arm broke, so he told a joke to his friends. Patrick DeFreitas, 1

A mom used her palm to pick up a bomb. But the bomb didn’t last, so it sent out a blast! Bjorn Robinson, 1

Puppy

fluffy, slobbery running, playing, jumping young, fast, old, fun lying, running, walking snuggily, cute Dog

Theo Elwell, 2

Snowy

One morning it was snowing. A world of fun and joy. So I went outside to play. And played with all the snow. Rounded up a ball of snow. With a great big plop. I put snowballs on top of each other. A beautiful snowman, I named Snowy. And I hope you can stay much longer. I hope you can come again. Oh snowman, I’ll miss you very much.

Vivian Garcia, 2

Small Toys

When I play with my toys, It is so fun, they are plushy and mushy. It’s stormy outside. So I play, play, play, Until the storm stops. I keep on playing. I love my toys.

Savannah Fager, 2

Birds

When I woke up to see a bird, It had a really skinny beak. It was really unique. So every day he sings and wings to me. He has dry feet and is neat, And he has some feathers and likes to shiver. Sadly one day, he went away.

Emma Globke, 2 Soccer

goalie, defender kicking, scoring, dribbling ball, goal, bases, bat throwing, catching, batting batter, pitcher Baseball

Gabe Groves, 2

Bear

furry, aggressive climbing, fishing, scratching blueberries, den, eggs, kelp swimming, jumping, diving scales, shiny Fish

Camden Lovsin, 2

To be a Fish

If I was a fish. I would have just one fun wish. To avoid the dish.

Knox Jackson, 2

My O’Neal School

I have a feeling of joy. I like reading every day. And speaking at my very own O’Neal School. In art, we draw a heart.

At my very own O’Neal School. In PE, I cheer “he-he”

At my very own O’Neal School. In lunch. I eat “munch, munch, munch”

At my very own O’Neal School.

Avery Pohlmeyer, 2

A.J. Peal, 5

Doody, 9 Earth Day Photography Contest Winner

Frankenstein

“Help, help!” I cried. My horse had taken off. Ka-klump, ka-klump, ka-klump. It was not slowing down. His name was Frankenstein. I was with my family horse back riding in the Grand Tetons. It was my first time on a horse. I thought for sure I was going to fall off. “Use your brakes!” everyone yelled. We were approaching a hill; I knew there was a drop on the other side. “Use your brakes!” they continued to call out. My horse was on a mission to get back his lead spot in line. I saw a creek and was scared it was rocky. Our guide said, “Your horse can drink, but not eat.” He slurped some water and quickly got his spot back in line. That was my experience with Frankenstein.

McManamon, 3

Owen

Travis

Best Christmas Ever

On Christmas we had one last present waiting for us under the tree. It was a box with huge holes in it and paw prints on the wrapping paper. Oddly, I saw the lid start to lift all on its own under the tree. Is that a black nose I see? Pop! Out pops out a puppy! We all started to scream. “Thank you! Thank you!” we yelled. We were so happy and did not even care about any other presents. We dressed him up and played with him as he chased us around. He jumped on us and licked us. We were laughing and we loved him so much. That was the best Christmas ever.

Charlotte Graves, 3

White Tower

It felt amazing and scary, all at the same time. Seeing all the old, heavy cannons. Giant crows resting on the railings and ground of the White Tower. I was in a giant fortress. It was from the medieval times. “Stay close,” my dad said as I looked at all the jewelry on display. Most of it is made of gold, diamonds, and rubies. Most of them are crowns and salt drills of the kings and queens who used to live there. The tower walls are 15 cm wide. My dad said that each cannon took four people to operate, but one amazingly strong person was able to operate it by himself. There were cannons everywhere and they were very old. The White Tower was very old, made from compressed sandstone. For a moment, I imagined myself as a medieval knight, guarding the treasures of the castle. It felt so real. If only I lived in the medieval times.

Joe Amerson, 3

Game Winning Tackle

I saw the hole crash all around me. The offense and defense’s pads crashed together. I went in the hole. There he was. The running back had the ball. If I missed this tackle, we lose. I caught up to him and made contact. I got down, wrapped my arms around him and hit the ball out of his hands. We got the ball and then I got dog piled. I was really happy. The other team, not so much. My friends were happy. Everyone was yelling, “Yes! Go Nate!” I was very tired. I couldn’t believe I just did that. I beat Cale! Cale is my friend from school who plays on the opposing team. After the game we celebrated and had a big lunch. I was happy that I had the game winning tackle.

Nate Vogt, 3

Lemonade

I ran out the door. I was so excited for my first lemonade stand with my best friends Cora and Elise. Gigi, my nanny, was already making the lemonade and it was time to set up the stand. It was finally time to sample the product, an important step for any business owner. Gigi brings it out and sets it on the it on the table. I think of how delicious it will be. All three of us pick up a cup. It spills into my mouth. I could feel the sweet and sour juiciness pouring into my mouth. A smile spreads across my face and all at the same time we say, “yum!” We were ready for our lemonade stand to open.

Isabel Zajkowski, 3

The following picture was created by a Generative AI program written from scratch by Maxwell Epstein. As input, the program was provided lines from a poem, and the fol lowing image is its visual representation of that input. The picture is entitled Sweet and Proper. It is a visual representation of the poem Dulce et Decorum est by Wilfred Owen (1893-1918). The poem is reprinted below.

Dulce et Decorum est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.— Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

Eddie

One day a little Clydesdale named Eddie was munching on a crunchy apple provided by his magnificent helpers. Of course, he loved it. And his cozy stall was wonderful, but he wondered what is behind those doors? Eddie lived in Busch Gardens in Scotland. So, one night, he chewed his carrot into a key and un locked his door. He woke up his friends and let them out too. So out the door, up the path, they went with Eddie in the lead. They visited France, England, out west, Italy, Germany, and Ireland. They ate delicious food and screamed joyfully on the roller coasters. But it was getting early so they needed to go. Eddie was thinking of another boring day in the shop. But he was wrong! The next day a girl named Nora picked him up and bought him! Later they went on a beautiful ride seeing all the lights and Pompeii, which he had not seen yet and then he went to the hotel with Nora.

Isla Haughey, 4

Georgia Phillips, 6 | Earth Day Photography Contest Honorable Mention

The Maine Moose

Have you ever gone to Maine or seen a moose? Well, I think that was probably one of the most exciting moments of my life... did you know that in North America and Canada there is an estimation of 500,000 to 1,000,000 moose left?

“Wake up Collins and Ava Taylor,” my dad said with a yelping yawn. It was five in the morning. Another early start to the day in Maine meant we were looking for moose with a tour guide. We did not see any moose, so we were going today. My sister, my dad, and I were all going while my brother and mom were staying at the hotel. I really wanted to see a moose because we were in Maine on my ten-year-old trip. Moose are seen a lot in this town because well. . . it is called Moose Head Lake.

I was enthusiastic and hopefully we would see a moose. I was on my toes as we got in the car and my dad turned it on. I could hear the crackle of the gravel driveway sounding like the chirping of the crickets as we drove out. I was tired because I woke up at 5 o’clock, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Finally, we got to the logging roads. A logging road is basically a backroad to the main road so when they cut down the trees they cut them down on the logging road, so the main road doesn’t look treeless.

We turned a corner onto the first logging road and my heart filled with hopeful thoughts. After about six minutes I saw my dad’s eyes squinting like he was trying to look inside a lock to a room. I asked what he was looking at and he said, “Oh nothing,” of course.

Five seconds later he screamed, “Wait!!!”

Looking over there, sure enough there was a male moose. He was very tall and kind of fat. I could not believe my eyes! I pinched myself once or twice to make sure I was not dreaming. If I was this was a rather good dream. Once I got a good look at him as he walked right in front of our car, that is when I really woke up. The best part was that the sun was rising so we got some pictures with a beautiful background. It looked as if someone was throwing the ripest juiciest orange up into the sky. As he walked in front of our car his tail swayed back and forth like an old grandfather ticking clock. My dad said he was about four feet tall and half a foot to a full foot wide.

On our way back to the hotel my dad shouted so loud aliens from outer space could hear him say the word moose! The moose got so scared from the shout (even though we were in the car) that both the males jumped up to the sky. Yes, there were two males! Since my dad was going fast, we drove right past them, and we had to turn around because I really wanted to see them! When we got back to where the moose were, one was already halfway into the woods. I guess we scared them. But luckily there was a puddle where they were, and since he was thirsty, he came back. Once I was done taking a bunch of pictures, we took the ten-minute to twenty-minute drive back to the hotel. I was so excited about seeing three moose! As we drove back to the hotel, I thought to myself I am the luckiest kid alive to be able to see what I saw today.

Collins Walker, 4

Whiteout

A flash of white sprinted past a rocky den. A furious bear came out of the cave and roared angrily. The snow fox ran at full speed away from the bear. “I almost got away quietly, but there had to be a bird in there,” thought Whiteout, the snow fox. At least I still have this meat. “Where is there flat land where I can eat?” she thought. Then she saw it. She saw a completely flat section of snowy land in the midst of the winter snow. It had a couple of snowy piles on it; a perfect place for her.

Whiteout ran toward the land, amazed at the setting. Finally, Whiteout settled down to eat. When she was finished, she noticed a strange smell. “Fish,” she noted, “Why would there be fish in the middle of winter?” Then it hit her. “A frozen lake.” Then the ice cracked, and Whiteout plunged into the lake. Whiteout struggled to get out of the water, but was able to get out and get back to dry land. Then, she no ticed her leg. She had been running through the snow after she had fallen into the lake. “I have frostbite” she thought. “Great, just what I need!” She trudged through the snow, but she couldn’t make it. She fell into the snow and didn’t get up. She fell asleep and didn’t wake up for a long time.

Two weeks later. . . .

Whiteout limped through the snow. “I’m so happy I am alive,” she thought. Her mind drifted back to what had happened two weeks earlier. After she fell asleep a human had found Whiteout in the snow and took her to a vet that cut off her leg to save her life. She stayed there for one week and was returned to the wild soon after. That human had saved her life, even though she only had three legs left. She went to her den and fell asleep not knowing what would happen to her next.

Ava Bozovich, 4 YOUNGCLAUS AWARD WINNER

Morgan Lewis,

The Fall Squirrel

The day Fall begins all the leaves turn yellow, brown, red, and orange. All the animals love it. When the first acorn falls the squirrels know they need to start collecting for the Fall Feast. But one little squirrel does not do any of these things this special year.

One peaceful day a little squirrel named Luna was out on her own in the dazzling forest helping her friends gather food for the Fall Feast.

“I’m so excited for the Fall Feast!” Luna said with excitement.

After Luna said this, the mayor came. He had very depressing news. “Hello girls. I have some news for you,” he said.

“What’s the news?” said Luna eager to hear what he had to say.

“The Fall Feast is not going to happen this year.”

Then Luna asked “Why?”

“We don’t have enough food and the other animals will not give us any food this year,” the mayor said sadly.

“Then I will make it happen,” said Luna with confidence. So, that afternoon Luna started her work on the Fall Feast.

“Are you sure you can handle all of this? You have to plan the meal because the animals will not give us any food,” said the mayor.

“I can handle it,” Luna said with confidence.

One hour later Luna had all the decorations to start. She started to put all the streamers on the trees and began to think of food ideas. Finally, Luna thought of some food she ate during Fall.

“I will just make what my parents always make during Fall,” said Luna.

So, Luna started to cook. She made acorn soup, nut salad, and a berry platter. When she was done, the mayor came to check on her.

“This looks amazing,” the mayor said with shock. “Luna, I hope you know the other squirrels will be here in an hour,” he said.

“OK, do you want to go on a walk with me while we wait?” Luna said.

“We can if you want to,” the mayor said. So, they started to walk the trails with some of the food Luna made. On the walk they found a rabbit with its babies.

“Are you hungry?” Luna said kindly.

“Yes, we have not eaten in a few days,” the mother rabbit said.

“Do you want some nut salad?” Luna asked in her kindest voice.

“Yes please,” the mother rabbit said with shock.

Soon they found a bear alone looking for something. “What are you doing?” Luna asked politely.

“I’m looking for some berries,” the bear said in a confused voice.

“Do you want this berry platter I made?” Luna asked politely.

“Sure,” the bear said pleased.

Finally, Luna and the mayor got back to the area of the Fall Feast.

“It’s about time for the Fall Feast to start!” Luna said with joy.

A couple of minutes later all the squirrels arrived. Before everyone started to eat Luna had some thing to say.

“Thank you all for coming. I hope you all like this different Fall Feast!” she said with enthusiasm. After the feast it was party time. But then something happened. All the other animals came to say sorry. The bunnies gave Luna some carrots and the bear gave her some berries. After that, all the animals had so much fun that night, all because of Luna.

Emma McDade, 5

Lucy Greenburg, 9 | Earth Day Photography Contest Honorable Mention

Mary Earhart, 10

Life in Fall

Red, red rushing, flowing The leaves falling, dropping around The season of fall

Jack-o-lanterns, candy, Ghosts flying high in the night All the witches brewing brews

Pumpkin spice and turkey Lots of Mash potatoes, peas Delicious buffet

Tanner Kennedy, 5

Fall Feeling

Fall, the crunching leaves The bittersweet smell of pie The strange pumpkins.

The nice cool walks The sweet-salty scent of corn Yummy pumpkin bread.

The maple doughnuts The cups of apple cider The sweet candy corn.

Callie Garrison, 6

It Is the Season

When the leaves fall it brings joy to all who listen to the breeze with ease, soon will be the night of Halloween where all the kids run with glee. Beware of the ghosts they like to boast and listen to the call of fall.

Let the leaves fall

The leaves are falling to the ground during thanksgiving we all get a little round. The leaves the leaves as they flutter down with ease. Listen as it gets colder, and the wind gets bolder.

Trick or treat

Halloween is a time for trick or treat and getting lots to eat. The ghouls the ghosts all give a scare. As you ring the doorbell you won’t know who’s there. Do not get too exited or the witches will be delighted.

Georgia Phillips, 6

The orange, red, brown, and yellow leaves fell from the trees and landed on me as I walked through the empty park. “A day like this makes a girl like me glad to be alive,” I said into the gentle breeze that was blowing the gorgeous leaves around.

Suddenly, a strong breeze blew across my path, stirring up several leaves, and blowing everything about. I covered my eyes and my head. When I opened my eyes again, three beautiful ghosts were stand ing in front of me. I was scared, but curious, and I managed to say, “Who are you?” One of the ghosts floated forward and said, “We are the ghosts of fall. My friends and I each represent a different aspect of fall. I am Nature, the ghost on the left is Holiday, and the ghost on the right is Spirit. We have been watch ing you for some time, and we have seen that you love fall, but you have not seen what fall really is. We can take you on a journey, one of us at a time, and show you what fall is about. You in?” Then Nature held out her hand.

I said,” Okay.” Then tentatively, I took Nature’s hand. Instantly I was whisked away by a magical swirl of autumn leaves.

When the leaves slowed to a stop, Nature was holding my hand above a beautiful apple orchard. A girl was gathering apples from the trees, giggling as the leaves spiraled out of the trees and landed on her and her basket of apples. Nature softly said,” Do you remember?” I looked a bit closer, and I exclaimed, “That’s me! I remember now. I went to my grandparents’ farm for Thanksgiving break two years ago, and they let me pick apples from their apple orchard. It was fun picking all those apples, and my grandma used the apples I picked to make her cinnamon apple pie! It was so good.” I sighed, “What good memories we made that day.”

Nature said,” Do you remember how you felt that day?” I said,” Yes. My sister and I helped Grandma and Mom with the pie, Dad made his eggnog with grandpa, who almost took a sip from the pitcher, it was so good, and that night we ate pie and had so much fun as a family.”

Nature said,” The beauty of nature is not just nature itself, it’s about what memories you make from being in natural beauty.”

Holiday appeared and said, “You have seen the beauty of nature, now let us see the beauty of holidays.” She took my hand and took me away in a spiral of fall leaves. The last thing I saw was Nature smiling as I vanished into the leaves.

When the spinning leaves finally stopped swirling, Holiday and I were standing in the air above a family eating Thanksgiving dinner. They were laughing at a small Yorkie covered in pie. Holiday said, “Remember that Thanksgiving?” I said,” Yes! My extended family came over to our house for Thanksgiv ing that year. My Aunt Betty brought Posie over because she couldn’t find a sitter. While we were eating dinner, she ran underneath the table and pulled the tablecloth. Then, the pumpkin pie fell on Posie! After we cleaned Posie up, we ate the rest of the food.” Holiday said, “You do see the magic of holidays. But there is one more aspect you are missing, the spirit of fall.”

Suddenly, Spirit appeared. “Our time is almost up,” she said, “and we will need to leave soon. But first, let me take you on a trip through all your fall memories.” Then, she took my hand, and leaves seemed to wrap around us and pull us into my memories. When the leaves finally stopped, we were in a huge room covered in tiny little spheres of memory. Spirit waved her hands. In an instant, all the memories were swirling around us, all around us, showering us with the magical spirit. Spirit said, “I cannot show you or tell you what the spirit of fall is, but I can see you already have it.” I understood. Spirit could tell. She said, “Our time is up. No matter where you go, in what season, we will always remain with you.” The leaves took me, swirling and spiraling.

When I woke up, I was back at the park. The park was empty. I sat up. As I did, several fall leaves fell off me, and I felt a slight thump against my chest. When I looked, there was a small silver necklace hanging around my neck with a pumpkin pendant. I knew it was from them. I knew I would always re member that day, forever and always.

Hannah Wilcox,

Isabella Czarnik, 12

Georgia Phillips, 6 | Earth Day Photography Contest Winner

Fall Feud

I think the trees are challenging us.

While my family makes a big fuss about Halloween the trees shed their green for orange and red while I’m asleep in bed they slip on their costumes and groom the fire sprouting from their branches and watch us skip from house to house in our inferior disguises.

The trees may have won this year but we’ll see who wins in winter.

Isla Riggsbee, 6

Jake Hanley, 12 | Fall-themed Writing Contest 1st Place Winner

The Most Magical Season of All

Fall is the most magical season of them all. Whenever I walk outside on a chilly fall morning, or a warm fall afternoon, I am immediately hypnotized by the beauty and elegance of the scenery. I love to watch as the graceful, colorful leaves dance and sway in the crisp Autumn wind. I stand and watch in awe as the beauty unfolds in front of me.

Simply siting outside on the yellow, shaven, grass and watching the peaceful scene is like jumping straight into a Bob Ross painting. The tree is the paint brush, the leaves are the paint, and the ground is the canvas, waiting to be turned into a masterpiece. When a leaf falls from a tree, it is like the leaf is paint ing the ground. When I look at the ground, I do not see a bundle of leaves, I see a work of art. Sometimes in the leaves I see a picture, an animal, a place, or even someone I know. There are endless possibilities to what I can see.

When I jump in a pile of leaves, I imagine I am flying high in the bright, blue sky and landing in a crisp corn field. I think of corn because the leaves are sometimes sharp around the edges, like the sharp edges on a stalk of corn. I imagine that when I land in that imaginary corn field that the corn stalks will soften my fall, like leaves do.

When I go apple picking in the fall, the whole orchard smells like everything and anything apple. Apple pie, apple juice, apple cider, apple cobbler and many more delicious apple products. When I climb onto a slick, golden apple tree to pick some tasty apples, I feel like I am in a different world when my head goes through the branches. It’s truly magical.

When I take a bite of soft apple pie, I imagine I am biting into a fluffy cloud. The pie’s edges are crisp and crunchy, but the inside is warm and creamy, like how I imagine a cloud would be. The tender apples melt in my mouth. The creamy inside of the pie has a soft, warm consistency, and it tickles my throat as I swallow the hot cream. The cold chunks of apple and the warm cream go perfectly together and make apple pie the best fall treat.

When I ride in a truck full of hay, I imagine I am riding in a carriage, taking a trip to a castle. The way the truck bumps on the jagged rocks on the dirt road feels and sounds like horses trotting in front of a carriage. The soft hay underneath my bottom feels as soft as silk cushions, like in a royal carriage. When I sip a mug of warm hot chocolate, I imagine I am drinking liquid gold that was melted in a blacksmith’s stove. The yummy drink clears my throat of fall allergies and is utterly delicious. When the steaming drink touches my cold lips, my lips begin to tingle, and my throat burns in a very familiar and comforting way. When I drop soft, fluffy marshmallows on the top of my blistering drink, they quickly ab sorb the liquid and become heavy and soggy, just the way I like them. When I drop one on my cold tongue the marshmallow immediately melts and leaves a sweet, yummy taste in my now warm mouth. Hot choco late is without a doubt, the best fall drink.

I love hiking, especially in the fall. The colorful leaves twirl in the wind, and in the crisp autumn mornings young songbirds sing an autumn ballad. Red squirrels and opossums scurry across the trails, searching for food before the frosty winter. Snakes, frogs, and lizards sunbathe on warm rocks in the hot autumn afternoons. Hedgehogs are born in the fall. I watch the little babies roll in the colorful leaves and I giggle at their childish behavior. In the cold nights barn owls stare a hole into my soul with their orange, sharp eyes. Red foxes hunt down small dormouse in the tall, yellow corn fields. Deer prance through the wooded fields but are easily scared away by a red fox’s high-pitched howl. Chinook salmon swim gracefully in the cold, gurgling streams. They’re flashy fins glisten in the hot sun. Droplets of water splash onto my face and it cools my hot skin.

Fall has always been the loveliest season for me. Its beauty sets it apart from any other time of year. There are so many wonderful and glorious aspects of fall that I simply cannot write about them all in a mere eight hundred words. Luckily for me, all these magical things are happening outside of my door right now and I must go enjoy them!

Madelyn Wicks, 6

The Peaceful Ride That Turned Into a Nightmare.

On one fall day I went out to the barn. I love horses and other animals and the fall. I have been riding for almost a full year now and I was so excited to ride my horse outside in the outdoor arena. My trainer was at the barn by the time I got there. My trainer is an extremely sweet lady. She one day will take over the barn according to the head trainer. I had gone down to get Prince (Prince is my horse). When I had taken him up to the main barn and he was tacked up, I got to lunge him. After that, my trainer warmed him up for me. When I got on, I felt like nothing could stop me (well my trainer and my Mom could). I walked Prince in the arena and my trainer said, “You can trot when you are ready.” Of course, I had gone right into the trot. Then after about six minutes she said, “You may canter when you are ready.” This time I waited for a few seconds, then made him walk. After making him walk, I sent him into the trot, but this time I leaned forward to have him canter and Prince cantered. It was a smooth canter. I thought to myself, “Only one more gait to go and then I will have all four gaits!” In riding gaits are walk, trot, canter, and hand gallop. In western the gaits are different and in costume and in the other types of riding too! Then I was in the canter. I looked at everything like I was seeing something new. It was amazing. I saw the mares they use for breeding and the babies, the yellow, red, and orange leaves on the trees, it was really like I had entered a new world. Then I thought about something. . .it hit me. . . it is the spooky season. A long time ago, someone was killed by hanging herself on a tree. It was sad, but since it was so long ago, I had never met her. Her ghost had been seen by a worker and I have even been where she was said to haunt. I had felt like something had touched me that day. After nine seconds my trainer asked if I was in my own world. I then made it look like I was not in my own world, but in the real-world riding Prince. After one minute she said, “Bring him down to the walk now.” I had to let him cool off. I redid what I had done on the first way, but was now going the other way. I had an incredibly good ride, but I thought to myself it was not really good. I got to show my trainer what I have trained Prince to do. She seemed happy that I trained him. I gave my Mom credit too. After I had brought him back to his stall, I put a fake little pumpkin on Princess’ stall. (Princess is my other horse). After a few minutes of petting her, that is when something happened. I saw something, and someone had spooked all the horses in the barn. Only Prince did not get spooked, or so I thought, because he did spook. I saw someone coming up from the pasture. I saw a person at the barn that I had never seen before. She looked a little pale—too pale for a living person. I hid as soon as she was closer. I heard her walk over to a horse named Bonnie. She went into the stall, but never opened the door. Then I could hear crying. It was so weird, I started to voice record and after she had gone out of the barn, I videotaped her and I showed it to the head trainer. He said, “How did you get that? She died. . . . She was the one who hanged herself on the tree.” After that I knew what he meant. To this day I keep away from Bonnie’s stall hoping that Prince and Princess would never end up in that stall.

Evalyn Blake, 7

Chesley Lucas, 7

Lily and the Haunted Mansion

I was on my way back home from school and decided I would go through the small wood in the middle of the town, instead of going around. I was going in, but suddenly I looked to see the other side because I saw, every day, that it was very small. Then I noticed that I couldn’t see the other end of the small wood. I was trying to see it, but couldn’t. I was awfully confused but I just kept going straight and further in the forest until I tripped on something. “Ow,” I said to myself. I got up from the ground. I looked at where she fell to see what she fell on. “There is nothing,” she said, “Must have tripped over my own feet.” She checked the time, it was 7:00 pm. “I better get home,” she said. She then heard weird sounds. The sounds were like whistles in the air, through the trees. She looked around, but she saw nothing. She kept going but wasn’t sure if she was going the same way she had been. The sound was getting louder. She then saw something coming up and it was big. “Is that a mansion?” She asked herself. She then went up and tapped it. It felt so weird like… cold and wet. “How is it here? Why has nobody talked about this? Has anyone seen it or was it just me?” She thought to me. “Where is the front door?” she spoke. She walked to the other side of the building and there happened to be a door. She walked slowly to the front of the building. She noticed that all the windows were boarded up. She walked up the stairs, trying to be careful because there were holes in the stairs. She went to knock on the door, but when she knocked once, the door opened. There was the whistling again, but it was louder than ever. She was very confused and terrified, but she was brave, so she went in the house. It was all dark when she got in the building. She tried looking for stairs. Before she got in the building, she noticed that there were two more floors. She then found a door and turned the knob to find it locked. She was very weirded out on why it was looked. She then heard a bang from behind her. Lily turned around in shock. The front door had shut. She ran to see if she could open it. She tried her best to open the door, but there was no luck. She was trapped in the house. “Hello?” She spoke. “Hello?” A voice said somewhere close by where Lily was standing. “Where are you? Did you get trapped in here too?” The unknown person said. “Who is this?”

Kaylee Hammond, 7

The Trees Were on Fire

Eyes closed, dreaming of places far away. Majestic colors fill every space. “Happy birthday to you, happy. . . .” My eyes flutter open as I awaken from my slumber. I see my parents at the foot of my bed holding a cupcake. “Good morning! Blow out your candle, and make a wish,” Mom exclaims. I roll my eyes because I’m too old for this nonsense. I don’t believe that wishes come true.

Mom passes me the plate where a cupcake decorated as a pumpkin has a single candle lit. I wish for colors. A breeze from my cracked window blows the candle out for me.

“Aww, that’s a shame. Now the wish won’t come true, pumpkin,” Dad says as he takes the cake back.

“Don’t worry Dad,” I say as they leave. “It never comes true,” I whisper to myself.

I put on an outfit that I believe is orange and white. I look around the tiny room, barely enough space for my bed and me. All the sticky notes that I’ve placed on my furniture seem to be laughing at me. I look at the one on my bed, red, orange, yellow the colors of fall.

A cramped kitchen, living, and dining space greets me as I step out of my room. Bills, stacked up on the counters, and cans of food line the shelves. I notice a red circle on October 3rd, my birthday. “Mom, is my outfit, okay?” I ask.

“Yes Colorum!” mom says a little too enthusiastic. “Every day you improve on your colors.”

“Thanks mom,” my face warms with blush. “I’m going outside now!”

“Be safe,” mom manages to sneak in as I head outside.

The chilly autumn morning greets me as I leave the trailer. A breeze lifts my hair into my face and tickles my nose. I trot over to the little hide away I made in the forest. A smile spreads across my face, I hear the sounds of the little home away from home I made. A river gurgles by and creates a wonderfully peaceful sound. I spot the knot hole in a tree where I store my children’s books. They have many beautiful designs and colors. My favorite book is the one that talks about trees turning into majestic fall colors. I sit by the river, and stare into my reflection. My cheeks have turned pink from the chill.

“I suppose the leaves have started turning colors,” I say to myself. “Isn’t it so ironic my birthday is the day the leaves start to change colors,” my head shakes in defeat. I look up at the trees, all the differ ent shades of black, grey, and white. So many colors, beautiful rich colors, and I see nothing. My world a blank canvas and someone forgot to bring the paints. “Why!” I yell up to the sky. “Why did you give me this curse? Why can’t I see the fascinating world? Why is my world so. . .so,” a laugh escapes me, “mono chromatic.” That laugh slowly turns into sob. I crumple to the forest floor. The crunch of the grey leaves beneath me muffle the sounds of my parents approaching.

“Aw, you know there is a rule about crying on your birthday, pumpkin,” I hear dad say as he wraps a blanket around my shoulders. The instant warmth of the blanket makes me feel better.

“You never did open your gift, Colorum,” mom says as she hands me a box with tree wrapping paper on it.

“I hope this gift is better than that time you got me a coloring book,” I say jokingly. “We thought you would like it because you love anything to do with colors!” Dad exclaims. “I couldn’t tell if I was coloring the frog green, or purple!”

“Just open it already,” mom playfully snipped.

I tear the paper off. The paper was covering a grey case. What color is tha-. “Yellow,” mom says reading my mind.

I open the case up; a pair of glasses lay in a bed of velvet. “What are these,” the feeling of hope burning its way through my body.

“Put them on,” mom exclaimed.

I excitedly put them on. Tears instantly fill my eyes. Colors! Wonderful, beautiful, colors. I look around at the trees and take in the marvelous world for the first time. The trees were on fire with the bright bold colors of the leaves. The stream is a gorgeous gem blue! It was like I entered a whole new world. Nothing brought me greater joy than seeing colors, real colors, for the first time! Tears stung my eyes as I witnessed everything I had ever wanted in life. Every wish I had made on my birthday finally came true. I finally get to witness Fall, the most beautiful season of all.

Blocklinger, 8 YOUNGCLAUS AWARD WINNER

Caitlin

A Meeting at Bentworth

Bentworth Manor - a gray, witchy house on a hill, surrounded by a scraggly, unkempt yard. Once beautiful, it had been weathered and worn by age. There was an old well out back. Legend had it that the well at Bentworth Manor was haunted.

Supposedly, a girl had fallen in and drowned fifty-something years ago. Her name was Lydia Bentworth.

Diana Clarke didn’t believe in ghosts. There was always a scientific explanation, even if you didn’t know what. Besides, she didn’t think well water was deep enough to drown in. Which was partly why she was standing at the well alone at dusk.

Everyone else was at the party inside the manor. The other kids had all dared each other to visit the well, but Diana, a petite girl with short brown hair, was the only one brave enough to do it.

“No way, there’s a ghost!” they said. Well, she would show them.

She regarded the well without much interest. Round and made of crumbling gray stones, with the peaked wooden roof lying in the grass nearby where it had fallen and rotted. She walked closer-right to the edge. She put her hands on the side and looked in.

Diana shivered involuntarily. The well’s inside was a deep black void lined in gray stones, darker than the rapidly approaching night. Just darkness, nothing to fear. Still, something about that abyss scared her anyway.

“Unnerving, isn’t it?”

Diana jolted and whirled around. There beside her stood a girl, seemingly out of nowhere. Diana couldn’t see her all that well in the darkness, but she could make out long, tangled dark hair and a lacy light-pink dress. The girl’s face was turned away from her.

“Oh... Well, it’s not much to look at,” she fibbed, trying not to show how rattled she was. “Who’re you? Where’d you come from?”

“Oh, I live around here,” The strange girl replied breezily. “What about you?”

“Diana. I live in town.”

There was a moment of silence after this. To Diana, it seemed unnaturally silent- as if the world were holding its breath in anticipation.

“Can you imagine it?” The girl spoke suddenly.

“Huh? What?” asked Diana, surprised.

“Drowning here. Can you imagine what that must have felt like?”

“Oh, well. . .I don’t actually believe in that story. . . .”

“But it’s true,” the strange girl interjected violently. “It really happened.” Her voice sounded strange somehow-still the same, yet somehow it didn’t quite sound like a human girl’s voice.

“I. . .I. . .um,” Diana was getting uncomfortable.

“The water depth wasn’t the real killer; it was the fall. She broke her arm and ribs and legs when she hit the bottom. She was stunned and face down in water and couldn’t get up again. She drowned because of that.”

Speechless, Diana looked closely at the stranger. Her clothes looked rather old-fashioned, and . . .was she wet?

“Picture it!” the girl continued. “Just taking a careless look in one random day, and suddenly tripping and tumbling in. No one else nearby to hear you scream. Nobody to find you until it was too late.”

Diana was shaking like a dry leaf. A deep, unnatural fear seized her. She smelled a rotten miasmalike a waterlogged human body sitting in heat.

“The fall, the air rushing around you, a sudden painful splash as you hit the water, sharp pain jolting through your body, the fear and panic. . . . . It hurt so much!”

Diana was terrified beyond belief now. It was completely dark, yet somehow, she could still see the girl.

“Did I ever tell you my name? Its Lydia.”

The girl turned and took a lurching step towards her. Diana couldn’t move. She still couldn’t see the girl’s face.

“I’m in so much pain, Diana. I’m miserable, and I’m so lonely here, nobody ever visits. Won’t you join me?”

The girl finally turned her face so Diana could see it. And it was horrifying. Swollen and waterlogged, mottled black and blue, smeared with blood from no obvious source. But the worst part must have been her eyes-two enormous, gaping voids of pure darkness.

Seeing this, Diana screamed-a horrible, piercing sound she couldn’t believe she’d made. At last, she could move again.

Diana turned and ran-as far and fast as she could, anywhere, everywhere, anything to get away from the ghost. She fled frantically through the house’s messy yard, tripping in her panic, right past the manor. As she ran, she could hear the ghost girl’s chilling laughter rising behind her.

There is a house on a hill called Bentworth Manor, and legend has it the well is haunted. And Diana Clarke believes in ghosts.

Campbell Medford, 9 YOUNGCLAUS AWARD WINNER | Fall-themed Writing Contest 2nd Place

Noah Blocklinger, 10 | Earth Day Photography Contest Winner

Lindsey Havenstein, 7

What Autumn Brings

They say that fall is for new beginnings. But why isn’t it the opposite?

Leaves are dying.

Shells of dead gourds decorate our front stoops.

The sickly sweet smell of pumpkin and sugar mixes with the scent of those dying leaves.

Why is this many people’s favorite season? It’s dreary and boring, just with the promise of holidays soon to keep us going.

But as some leaves die, the colors are bright for our enjoyment.

Decaying pumpkins always have a light inside them, flickering warmly thought the night. The pumpkin spice smell comes from pies and muffins that make us think of happy times, even if we don’t have those now.

But what about the genuinely depressing conditions?

Darkness seeps in earlier each night and stays later each morning. We have to fall asleep knowing that tomorrow will be the same as today, bleak and monotonous.

Cold air cuts your cheeks.

Why is this not described as the close? Why don’t we think, as all this happens, as the world seems to end, that autumn is the end? Or, at the least, the beginning of the end.

Some say that fall is balanced. Hot with cold, summer with winter, sunny with cloudy. As darkness blankets our towns, the moon shines brightly from high above us. Those bleak and monotonous days will depart in anticipation of celebrations and feasts with family and friends.

Crisp air will leave in the afternoon to let the sun warm your back. This is not the end of the movie, fading to black. It may just be the intermission. We can keep going and know that something is coming next.

There’s a reason that autumn seems to be eternal in some television shows. It’s comforting to see that change is always in motion, even if it’s just through the rotations of the seasons.

As summer falls to make way for autumn, just think: though fall may not be for new beginnings, it re minds us that as the nights turn cold, the never ending fire will always flicker in our hearths.

Charlotte Mills, 9 Fall-themed Writing Contest 3rd Place Winner

Like Winter

I find I can compare thee to Winter

For like Winter thou are cold and fleeting And though thou may bring with thee bad weather I still look forward to our next meeting

Thou hide behind a curated disguise Oh, my love, my feelings will never fade Thou hide thyself from the public’s own eyes But thy true self will never cease to amaze Now those sweet times have since passed us long by And Winter has melted into the Spring Thou invade my thoughts at night, and I cry For time has forgotten out love’s brief fling

The Eurydice to my own Orpheus The world must not have been ready for us

Morgan Lewis, 9

Reiley Johnson, 10

The lecture continued. It progressed throughout the hour with the methodical drawl of its dispassionate speaker, erringly punctuated by the flapping sound of paper being turned over. A broken clock ticked regularly backwards on the wall above; Its spindly hands jerked leftward in their predestined paths. The room was coated in a uniform layer of grime and sepia, a memory of its past framed in an unhung portrait. A diminutive boy sat in the rightmost seat of the third-most row, looking forward attentively.

Frank K. blinked and was in his car. He recalled the events of the school day as he drove away: the lecture, the clock, the room – then now. Frank frequently forgot school… or never attended it. Some strange facet of his mind, either an anomaly within his brain or some supernatural ability (he never let himself contemplate which), allowed his conscious thought to skip forward in time while his body contin ued to behave normally. Externally he came to class, studied, hung out with friends, and ate dinner with his parents while his mind avoided anything it was not immediately piqued by.

Leaving the school, he drove for a moment before reaching a red light.

He carried himself home and was suddenly in his garage. The heavy door slouched closed behind the car, interrupting the vibrant afternoon light. The door inside creaked as his dad peeked into

alone beside his car holding a trash bag. The trashcan’s lid swung open with a resolute thud and Frank tossed in the bag he’d found in hand. His ears were filled with humming as florescent bulbs aug mented the sunlight’s diffuse evening glow.

Retracing his steps, Frank walked past his parents’ thanks to his room where homework sat com pleted on his desk. No matter what he skipped, he always ended up here as sleep interrupted his ability. He grabbed his laptop from the table and collapsed into bed. There he was strewn, enraptured by the film playing on his computer screen. Even while engrossed with the story playing out, his mind raced with its own ideas he would one day be able to put to film.

As the constant sun rose, casting an intermittent shadow throughout his room, the boy rose. Increasingly uneasy, he grabbed his phone to check the time – his alarm should have woken him up before the sun. Low Battery.

Panic mounting, Frank’s arm flailed toward his charger. How late was he? Could he still make it to school on time? Did his parents think he’d already left? Feeling his breath hitch, Frank wanted to slap himself. He

sighed. The sun’s last rays splayed out in his room Whatever hours had been lost in the morning hadn’t ended his world. Nor, he realized, had his conscious absence.

His head hit the pillow. He woke up.

He woke up.

He woke up. A band aid had appeared on his hand.

He woke up.

He woke up.

He woke up. A ping echoed from his phone. On a whim, Frank checked it. He’d joined a film club that day.

The sun washed out the screen as a movie played in the classroom. Fifteen students, Frank among them, emphatically discussed the ensuing film as it progressed. Frank had already seen it, of course, but he reveled in the discussion as the projector light sharpened the beige room.

Back in bed, Frank checked the club group chat and found nearly a hundred messages. As the slic es of sunlight fell, his phone lit up the room for hours. The next day, his body moved of its own volition. With the halting familiarity of someone returning to an abandoned skill, he dressed and prepared for the day. Stepping from the static threshold of his room, he regarded the uncanny minute changes of a lived in space on his way to the door, the garage, the car on his way to school.

He walked into the classroom. Students steadily entered around him with the uniform shuffle of the day. He glanced upward at the clock, gleaning the time from its backwards motion. The boy sat in rightmost seat of the third-most row, attentively letting the time tick uniformly forward.

Maxwell Epstein, 11