The Mind's Eye 2021-2022

The Mind’s Eye

Waldwick High School 2021-2022

Board of Education Daniel Marro, Sr., President Andrew Frey, Vice President Christine Figliuolo Mary Beth Nappi Timothy O’Hare Julie Mangler Troy Seifert Administration Dr. Paul D. Casarico, Superintendent of Schools John Griffin, Business Administrator/Bd. Secretary Dr. Susan Elias, Director of Curriculum and Instruction Ashya Porter, Director of Special Services Kevin Carroll, High School Principal Michael Clancy, High School Assistant Principal Michael Mayer, Assistant Principal and Athletic Director Dianna Angelli, Supervisor of Secondary Education Staff: Chae Rin Yang Advisor: Danielle Kish Artwork by Mrs. Forste’s art students Photography by Mr. Opderbeck’s Photography Club Cover Artwork by Chae Rin Yang

Horror/Suspense Story by Yasmin Markman The flowers were blooming and the sun was shining in the final days of March. The air was just starting to warm up with a cool, light breeze. Billy and his teammates, Mike, Joey, and Andrew were getting ready for the start of the baseball season, with their opening game right around the corner. All the boys' phones were going off, as they were making a plan to meet up after dinner to get some reps and a quick practice in. The field they always practiced at had bright lights that lit up the whole area for the kids to play and do what they enjoyed.

“You guys ready?” Billy asked in their group chat, notifying all his friends that he was done with dinner. They responded the same, agreeing to be ready and that they would see each other soon at the field. The recreation center they were going to wasn’t exactly close, it was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by some. So it would take them about 5-10 minutes to get there.

They arrive at the field and the boys set up their baseball equipment to get a quick workout in. They get some good pitches, hits, swings and in between that some good laughs as the team bonds. After about an hour of work, they feel confident that they are going to win this week for their opening game. They decide to pack everything up and get home before it gets too late, but then realize they have to get the ball that was hit over the fence. “Go find it, Andrew, you hit, you get it!” exclaimed Joey, trying to persuade his friend to get the ball he lost. “Can we all just go together before we leave, it’s getting kinda dark?” Andrew replied frantically. The boys all agreed since they didn’t want him going into the woods alone, who knew what was out there this late, or the endless possibilities of what could happen.

The boys raced to the metal fence as fast as they could, finding the gate that led them to the other side of the grassy field. They made their way through the trees, weeds, and branches as

they looked for the ball Andrew got a homerun with. After a few minutes of searching, the light that lit up the whole recreation flickered, flickered, then went out. The boys had never witnessed this in all their years of practicing on this field, but maybe it was the fact that it was really late and it was on a set on a timer. At this point, the 5 of them slightly started to panic, including the fact they had a feeling they weren’t alone. “Did you guys hear that rustling noise?” Mike asked in a shaky tone. “No, it’s probably just Billy playing jokes, we're fine!” Andrew said, reassuring the group.

Billy had turned his flashlight on and made it known it wasn’t him messing around. But, just as the light to his phone lit up one of the trees, their eyes locked with what they saw to be a clown. In an extreme panic, they sprinted so fast through the woods, hurdling over the branches to get away from this human figure that was wearing a white mask, colorful outfit, with a sharp silver knife.

Mike, Andrew, and Joey had gone straight into the woods, while Billy decided to make a sharp left where it would eventually lead him out to a road. “Help!!!” Billy shrieked as the unknown clown was catching up. He yelled helplessly as it echoed into the pitch-black sky, no reply just silence. Billy then stumbled upon a branch that was in his path, he had fallen and was panting uncontrollably now.

The clown was now hovering over him as the only thing that stood between them was the knife that Billy could see his reflection off of it. As frightened as he was Billy, lay there watching as he witnessed the clown launch his arm forward getting ready to take a stab at him. “Ahhh!!

PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!” Billy pleaded, trying to save his life while on the ground, covered in leaves and drenched in mud. “Honey, are you ok?” the mom questioned, storming into Billy’s room, realizing he was just having a bad dream.

AP Artwork by Gianna Ballesteros

Poems by Rylie Gallagher i.

Once upon a time, there was rhyme Then it was stolen by the mime He refused to speak, Rhyme stuck in his cheek And rhyme was gone for all of time

ii.

Just like sunshine on a late august evening, it glows yellow. Like working with clay in art class, it gets your hands dirty. Like balloons a week after your birthday, it pops. Hot like the fires used to forge the liquid gold it was made out of. Nothing compares to the serotonin pumping through my brain when I see it brought to me on a silver platter. It comes in neat, precise rows, like believers sitting in church pews. Although they are

equally holy to me. Golden, sweet, satisfying. Lathered in butter and sprinkled in salt, nothing makes me feel the way corn on the cob does.

iii.

I am from shredded cheese, From the tv remote and jeopardy I am from the creaky floorboards and the chipping paint From the towering oak that shades the backyard and the overgrown ivy outside the kitchen door Whose long gone limbs i remember as if they were my own I'm from 6 kids and 6 siblings each From Conor and Shea I'm from “always right” and “always late” And from “majority rules” I'm from “be nice to your sister” and “you guys look the same” I'm from “American Pie” played on every holiday I am from New Jersey, From yet another Gallagher walking around Camp Fatima I’m from Irish pubs and shrimp scampi pizza From the bathrobe bandit And grandma always breaking glasses I am from, and will forever be kept In the scrapbooks on the shelf

The Curse of Gold by Anonymous It’s been six months. Six months since Sophie was genuinely happy. Six months since she was on good terms with her parents. Six months since she had lost her best friend. Her role model. Her sister. Six months… since Morgan took her own life.

Her death remained a mystery to Sophie. Morgan always seemed to be so content with life. She was the spark that lit up every room she walked into with a smile as bright as the sun.

She was the prized possession that her parents would brag about to other families. She was the ideal woman that everyone wanted to be like, especially Sophie. However one day, that spark slowly started to fade and that match was never lit again. Morgan was no longer the Morgan that everyone knew. Of course, she put up a facade around other people, but Sophie knew something was wrong. Morgan’s screams would flood the house throughout certain nights and Sophie would rush in to find Morgan in a cold sweat, face pale with her body shaking, and unable to breathe. She would hear sobs from her room causing swollen, red eyes the next morning with

unfallen tears glistening in the light. Sophie pleaded and begged for Morgan to give her something, anything, but as always, she whispered her usual “I’m fine” and locked herself into her room. She put all her efforts into Morgan, but it seemed as if she was the only one. Her parents were ignorant of how Morgan felt and her cries for help were only met with a harsh, “Oh honey you’re being dramatic. You have food, water, a home, and a loving family. There are other people in this world who aren't as fortunate as you are.” After that, Morgan never complained and swore to hide her suffering from everyone. Several heated arguments with her parents clouded Sophie’s life to the point where she decided that she had to take this matter into her own hands to bring back her beloved sister, but it was too late. Morgan was gone and she couldn’t bring her back. If only Sophie had acted sooner. If only her parents listened. If only Morgan would tell her what was wrong. All these thoughts filled Sophie’s mind as she mourned the death of her sister. After sleepless nights, Sophie tried to put the pieces together to figure out why, just why her sister started to act that way. Did something happen? Did someone happen? There was no letter, no explanation. These questions were left unanswered until Sophie decided to do the thing she’s been dreading to do… clean out Morgan’s room.

Ironically, the day Sophie decides to clean out Morgan’s room is on an oddly nice day on her farm in Ohio. The sky is a beautiful shade of blue with soft, pearly white clouds that cover the sun just right. Sophie walks into Morgan's room and the familiar aroma of her scent fills her nose as tears well up in her eyes. “Come on, this isn’t what you came in here to do. There’s no time for this,” Sophie sighs to herself. She hesitantly walks over to the dresser as she starts to fill the empty boxes. Meanwhile, a ray of sunshine hits Morgan’s window perfectly when Sophie sees a sparkle of gold in the corner of her eye. She spins her head around and the closer she gets, the more confused she becomes. She carefully picks up a small gold coin, almost the size of a

quarter. She inspects it, holding it out under the light to see that there’s an engraved image of a skull over a star with an odd phrase in Latin: “La Diablo estas vivanta ene de mia korpo.” As Sophie further analyzes the coin, it starts to heat up, producing smoke, and burning Sophie’s hand. She quickly drops the coin as she screams, “OW! What the hell?!” She crouches down, looking back at the coin and sees that the skull on the coin was no longer there. Instead, it was a face… her face. Her eyes widen, her heart beating through her chest, and the room suddenly grows cold. She panics, gasping for air as she sprints down the stairs to throw the coin out, hoping to never see it again.

By the time night falls, Sophie has forgotten all about the coin. She finished cleaning Morgan’s room and she felt accomplished. It was one step closer to reaching the stage of acceptance. She crawls into her bed and her eyes grow heavy. Her breathing slows as the silence of the night drifts her off into a deep sleep. However, all of a sudden, her eyes snap open. She tries to get up but she can’t move. It feels like there’s hundreds of pounds weighing her down and it gets to the point where it’s getting harder to breathe. She scans the room using only her eyes when she makes direct eye contact with a shadowy figure standing right next to her bed looking down on her with its wide grin and bright red eyes. The figure slowly lifts its hand up and holds the shiny, gold coin between its fingers, mocking Sophie. The only thing she can hear in this moment is the sound of her own heart beating rapidly as she breaks into a cold sweat with tears brimming her eyes. She starts to shake and screams as loud as she can, but why is nothing coming out? The figure’s grin spreads wider across its face as it slowly backs up into the closet, disappearing into thin air. Her throat feels dry, almost as if she swallowed shards of glass, but her cries were never heard… just like Morgan. The weight lifts off of Sophie’s body and she rushes to the light switch and the sudden light in the room makes her squint. She catches her breath as

she checks every crevice in her room but there was nothing unusual. The pile of clothes was still in the corner and the empty chip bags were still laid out across the floor. “Maybe it was just sleep paralysis or a nightmare,” she thought to herself. “I haven’t gotten much sleep anyway.” She lets out a loud sigh and goes back into her bed trying to get back the hours she lost.

The next morning, Sophie groans as the sunshine directly hits her eyes and she rolls over to reach for her phone. She feels around her night stand when she feels the cold metal against her fingertips, sending chills down her spine that immediately wakes her up. She shoots up from her bed and slowly turns her head hoping, praying, that it’s not what she thinks it is. Her eyes widen and her stomach drops. It wasn’t a nightmare or sleep paralysis. It was real. The coin sat there with Sophie’s own face as it stared back at her. She knew what this meant. She’s seen all the scary movies to know what happens with stuff like this. You can try getting rid of it but it always comes back. Sophie frantically grabs the coin and throws it into one of her shoe boxes, sealing it with whatever she can find: glue, tape, layers of old clothes, and throws the box into the basement. She locks the basement door and runs to her kitchen hoping to find her parents making breakfast but is instead met with a plate of pancakes covered in saran wrap with a note next to it that reads, “Your dad and I are going to Grandma’s for the weekend because she isn’t feeling too well. We were going to tell you this morning but you were sound asleep and didn’t want to wake you. Call us if you need anything and NO PARTIES!” Sophie rolls her eyes at her mom’s comment. “I don’t have friends to party with anyway,” she scoffs. Sophie normally loved having the house to herself but after what’s been going on, she isn’t too sure. Though, she decides to spend her day binge watching her favorite shows and movies. She grabs her popcorn and plops down on the couch.

Before she knew it, the sun was going down and gray clouds filled the sky. Pellets of water hit against her windows and roof as the thunder occasionally startles her. She’s in the middle of watching her favorite comedy movie when all of a sudden the TV blinks off. Sophie’s smile slowly fades into a straight line. She picks up the remote and tries to turn it back on but the black screen remains. “The power probably went out,” she thinks to herself. She walks over to the lightswitch and flicks it up and down but no budge. She was right, it was just the storm… or was it? Little did Sophie know that she was in the only powerless house on a street full of light.

Sophie walks through her silent house and back into the living room, her pupils dilating as they try to adjust to the darkness. She feels around the room for her phone and is relieved to find it fully charged. She goes to call her parents to inform them of this power outage but there’s no service either. All of a sudden, there’s a loud pounding along with a muffled scream coming from her basement door. “BAM BAM BAM!” Sophie freezes and an uneasy feeling runs through her entire body, making her almost feel nauseous. She quickly scrambles to get her phone and turns on the flashlight, shining it in the direction of the door. After what felt like hours, Sophie finally builds up the courage to go up to the door and tip toes her way over. As she gets closer, the scream gets clearer. “HELP ME PLEASE! PLEASE! IT’S MORGAN! HE HAS ME TRAPPED! I’M STUCK DOWN HERE YOU HAVE TO HELP ME OUT!” Sophie feels like she’s about to throw up when she hears those words. It’s impossible. Morgan is dead. She must be hearing things, but the shadow moving frantically in the gap between the door and the floor says otherwise. “Morgan? Is that really you?” Sophie calls out. Morgan replies “YES YES, IT’S ME SOPH, IT’S ME!” Sophie’s eyes widened. Nobody calls her “Soph” except Morgan. Fully convinced, she unlocks the basement door and slowly opens it as an eerie creak escapes the hinges. However, what Sophie sees is not Morgan. It was the small, gold coin sitting, staring at

Sophie. Tears start to stream down Sophie’s face both out of disappointment that it wasn’t her sister behind the door and fear that the coin found its way back to her... again. Sophie has come too far to back away now so she picks up the coin and makes her way down the stairs with her phone in hand. The door slams shut behind her making her jump and at the same time, the flash on her phone shuts off. Sophie smacks the phone but is confronted with a red battery symbol that no one likes to see. Her hands shake while she puts the phone back in her pocket. As she gets closer to the bottom, a foul smell reaches her nose causing her to scrunch up her face and put her sleeve over her nose and mouth. She looks around and sees the foot of someone behind one of the old boxes. The shoe looks familiar...almost like Morgan’s. Sophie hesitantly creeps towards the boxes and there she is. Morgan’s limp body lying there with no life in her eyes. “OH MY GOD!” Sophie screams. She runs back up the stairs, pounding on the door yelling, “HELP ME! HELP ME PLEASE!” No answer. Sophie continues to scream when she feels the chilling presence and the breath of someone behind her. Too scared to turn around, she stills, staring forward at her door. After some silent moments, the thing behind her whispers, “You dropped this,” as it reaches out in front of Sophie holding the coin between its long, black shadowy fingers. The creature grabs Sophie, holding her mouth shut as it drags her down the stairs. Sophie wriggles around screaming and crying for help but there’s no use. During her final moments, it hits her. This is what made her suffer. This is why she started acting weird. This is what killed Morgan. Sophie’s final tears travel down her face as she almost smiles knowing she’ll be with Morgan again.

The house is abnormally quiet and still. Almost like it’s abandoned with the only noise coming from the harsh storm of the night. The coin remains on the basement floor as Sophie’s

face slowly disappears, transforming back into its original design. It sits there, waiting for its next victim. The coin won.

AP Artwork by Madeline Dowling

The Limericks and Ballad by Anonymous (September 11, 2001) Parents are going to work Children are going to school Just like any ordinary day Except it wasn’t, an attack was done, it was cruel

Planes were hijacked headed towards the city The twin towers were knocked down Everything up in smoke Commotion and panicking all around

Firefighters running into the collapsing buildings People jumping from the skyscrapers Everyone in need of desperate help Twin towers disintegrating as fast as burning papers

People were confused as to what was going on Screams of help were everywhere Firefighter and police rushed to the scene Out of town first responders coming, in despair

A day in history we’ll never forget

Many lost their lives Others lost the people they loved It was all such a terrible surprise

Story by Anonymous I am on a boat now. Surrounded by water, an ocean if I had to guess. The pain in my head is splitting, I am dehydrated and malnourished and so very cold. The boat is small, it’s just me, like usual. When I opened my eyes this time, I found myself sitting right in front of the steering wheel. I am still sitting there now, but I haven’t touched it yet. I know I’ll just be brought somewhere else. All hope that I had when trying to escape the other traps is gone now. I am finding this boat ride rather peaceful. I can’t feel it anymore, that force that was driving me earlier. I have the wheel now. I have the wheel.

“I’m in control now!” I yelp. I laugh like a maniac, I feel relieved. I don’t know where I am. I don’t think I ever will again. But I have the wheel now. And I don’t want it anymore.

I throw myself off the little boat. It rocks back and forth. I feel the coolness of the salty water. It is so refreshing. The boat keeps sailing, on and on as I remain in the water, basking in the

glorious sea. I think I’ll go for a swim. I think I’ll go far in the opposite direction of where that thing was taking me.

Photos by Anonymous

I Am From… by Yasmin Markman I am from refrigerator from tissues and newspaper

I am from the cozy, small From the hydrangea, The oak tree

Whose long limbs I remember as If they were my own.

I’m from the gathering with family for dinner And friendliness from Joe and Mike

I’m from using manners and always saying hi to everyone and always helping those in need.

I’m from always be nice and always say please and thanks and you are my sunshine

I’m from baking cookies during the holidays I’m from Newark and African American, chicken, and rice.

From moved to France to go to grad school, courageous, a picture of my whole family this summer on the beach in my heart.

Story by Lilly Smith Blood now mixes with the white and creates a beautiful red. I need my red. My love will give me what I want, she would want me to have everything I need. I take our sharpest knife from the drawer to the left of the sink. I open my wife's eyes, I smell her hair, and I cover her mouth. I slowly drag the knife along her arms, creating more red, and leaving my wife dead. She

didn't scream once, my lovely angel. She knew all along how this relationship was going to end.

I grab an empty wine bottle and transfer what my beautiful bride had just made for me into the bottle. I pour myself a glass and take a sip. It was the most perfect thing I had ever tasted. I leave Jess on the floor, leaving my love to rest. I walk back into the dining room table with the bottle of red in my hand.

Photos by Anonymous

Poem by Anonymous What was supposed to be two weeks Turned into two years Something so unexpected And caused so many fears

I was a freshman And I was fifteen Now I’m a junior And now I’m seventeen

The “new normal” wasn’t so normal My friends, my family I could not see I talked to them through a screen Oh, how I wish I was free

Our faces are covered And our eyes tell our stories I can hide my emotions Without any worries

Thousands of people lost their lives While others grieve their loved ones What would you do If it was your daughter or your son?

Lost in the Woods by Lilly Smith No memories beyond that point come to mind, what happened? Who was it? Why am I here? I still have so many questions. In the woods, wandering, I see a figure in the distance. ¨Hello?!¨ I shouted but no answer. I run towards them but even as I get closer it's like they don't see me. I am now inches away from them and I say to the hooded figures back ¨Hello sir, can

you help me?” But no response. He kneels down and I walk around to see what he's looking at. I take one step to the left and I see feet. Lifeless feet, he is creeping around a corpse. I stand still hoping he won't realize I'm there, but I lean forward to see if maybe the body is alive. My body balancing on just my right foot I finally see the face. In instant shock I sprint with no direction.

No, no way it can be, I say to myself. But then I feel a stinging on the back of my head. I rest my hand on my skull and pull away blood. Everything comes rushing back to me. My date, he followed me home. He was in the car, he hit me, he knocked me out, he killed me. He killed me and dumped my body in the woods. Now he crouches over me like a vulture and I am here stuck and forced to watch his next move. This is my own hell.

Photos by Anonymous

Limerick by Anonymous The insect as soft as a cloth Who was unaware of his troth That sad butterfly Let out in a cry I believe I might be a moth!

The Power of “I Love You” by Anonymous Before I go to sleep at night, leave my house, or say goodbye to someone I always say “I love you.” No matter what I'm feeling, I never miss the chance to say it. To me, these three words are a reminder of your feelings towards someone. And I think it’s important to always say

it. Love is a strong word. It’s a feeling of passion, affection, and gratefulness. I believe that if you love someone, you should always tell them. And always remind them.

I believe in the power of “I love you.” I believe that these three words mean everything.

It’s more than just feeling mutual about something. It’s expressing your commitment, care, and gratitude towards someone or something. These three words hold so much power, and should never be forgotten at any moment. I think love is such a beautiful thing, and really makes life what it is. But I think that as humans we need constant assurance of it. It’s as simple as three words. I believe that no matter how scary, how frustrating, and how difficult it may be, you should always say “I love you.” So next time you leave your house, say goodnight or goodbye to someone, don’t forget to say it.

Photo by Anonymous

Ballad by Anonymous Ten years in exact time Does somehow not suffice For when a life is in its prime We’d never roll the dice

And when the hole within your heart Formed on that desolate day Starts showing up on other things In every other way

The void grows large and dark Behind our teary eyes We’ll miss her trying bark The sorrow we disguise

To treat each moment like the last I wish I could have done But that final week just went so fast From everything to none

For every jump and every spin And each resulting treat I'll miss it absolutely till if once again we meet

My Superhero by Emily Toolen A baby boy was born into a life of no other. He was born having a gift that would change people’s lives, and his mother knew something was special about her son when she felt no pain while giving birth to him. Looking at his closed eyes and wrinkly, chubby skin, she named him Duron, which stands for ‘strong’ in Greek. As happy as this story sounds, Duron was born prematurely, a full four weeks before the due date, causing health issues relating to his heart that were fatal the second he popped out. Doctors barely allowed his mother to touch or see him as many procedures were being done to his innocent, defenseless body. The years went by where he would have annual visits to the doctor, some that would last weeks, at least two surgeries every year, and one major surgery he received in the third grade, causing a big scar in the shape of a cross going over his heart. The doctors didn’t hold back the truth, making sure Duron knew that

his likelihood of making it to adulthood was slim, but Duron never let these knews settle in.

From just the age of three, Duron began becoming more aware of his gift. His friends would fall and scrape their knees at recess, and all he had to do was look at the wound and think of the word ‘close’. The wound would, surprise-surprise, close up and heal within moments. Durons’s gift became more and more advanced when he began healing everyone in sight who would be in any time of physical distress. It was after a couple of his normal hospital visits and healing several patients from different rooms, that doctors began to claim Duron was good luck, how patients somehow managed to magically become healthy only when Duron was there. They began asking Duron to come even if he didn’t have an appointment. Little did they know it really was magic.

Within time however, Duron realized that there were certain things he couldn’t fix, natural causes like old age, and himself.

Duron had many instances where he would cry out of frustration due to him wondering why he couldn’t heal himself. There was rarely a time where Duron felt 100% and he was always in pain. Everyone knew Duron as ‘the boy with the heart condition’, and in some way, he liked this. He didn’t want to be perceived as anything else other than average, that the only thing that differentiated himself from everyone else was only his illness. His focus in academics involved anatomy and the study of the human body. If his gift didn’t give him the ability to heal himself, then he would do everything else in his power to fix himself. One person he would focus on as intently as himself was a girl in his class named Samantha. They never talked, just casual stares through the hallways or in class, but Duron cared so much for her. He made sure that nothing would ever happen to her and was always looking out for her. Duron’s ending isn’t him not finding the cure for his heart condition and dying with an unlived life, but rather it is Duron on his deathbed, saying goodbyes to his family, preparing for that very likely possibility that he

wouldn’t make it out of the hospital again. This point in time however, Duron was very accepting of his fate, knowing that living his life to the fullest wasn’t about making it to the age of 85, but rather the satisfaction of knowing he reduced the pain of others, and he was okay with this. Back to Duron’s happy ending and him being on his deathbed, a random visitor came to see him. The doctor’s asked Duron for his permission to see if he was okay with them seeing him. Duron was confused, but allowed it. Samantha shyly walked in, Duron’s eyes not believing what they were seeing. She sat on the edge of the bed and started from the beginning. She began talking about elementary school, how she would be able to touch someone and heal them. She had noticed people magically healing without her doing, so she began observing and eventually connected the dots that it had to have been Duron since he was always somehow around the scene. She began explaining how she watched him all throughout middle school and highschool, and she didn’t say anything about their shared powers before since she wasn’t 100% sure she was right about Duron. Now that he was on the cusp of death, she knew there was nothing to lose. Duron just stared at her as she was talking, not knowing what to say or do. Then Samantha said something interesting, that she did in depth research, knowing that if there was someone else like her, then how many of these natural healers are there? She found out that their powers don’t allow them to heal themselves. Duron’s eyes widened as Samantha reached over, placed her soft, gentle hands over Duron’s chest, and watched as the scar began to fade.

Duron and Samantha went on helping others, saving lives, and living life to the fullest.

Ballad by Lilly Smith Mind slowly fading away Memories gone and stories untold All the colors turning to gray After all this is what happens when you turn old

A man full of nothing but a joke Forgets the punchline Sit there waiting for his time to smoke Hoping he comes back, waiting for a sign

Taken by the mind, his soul

Good episodes only last for a little while A man who will now never be whole But still lights up the room with a smile

Family members gathering around Another holiday draining him dry He sits there on the couch not making a sound I sit there and stare trying not to cry

Alzheimers can take everything Constant confusion and fear Wanting one good day, hour, minute, anything But I will love him with all my heart each year

Lost in the Woods by Emily Toolen My eyes flutter open to the sensation of a cool breeze passing by. Chills run through my body, goosebumps covering every square inch of my body as it’s surrounded by wet leaves, drops of water dripping on my body from the trees that hovered over me. The situation became more clear, I was stranded in the middle of the woods.

How did I get here? Was I kidnapped? Attacked? Knocked out? Why can’t I remember anything? I began scavenging the ground, searching frantically for a phone that may have fallen out of my pocket. Nothing. I sit, my body freezing from the dampness, the small source of sunlight creeping in through the leaves of the dense trees, and I sit in silence, listening to nothing but my heavy breathing.

I convinced myself someone kidnapped me, as there is no way I would voluntarily walk into the middle of the woods by myself with no phone. My brain began hearing what it wanted to, turning abruptly at any unfamiliar sound, hearing rustles from the distance, a bird tweeting from the opposite direction, the leaves blowing in the chilling breeze. I begin to walk, picking a random direction and sticking with it. My brain could depict every sound that surrounded me, all of which I would assume was something that was going to kill me.

After an hour of aimlessly walking, the hairs on the back of my neck tense up, I could sense something was off. There was no breeze, no sounds, just the sound of my breathing. The silence was deafening, as if I needed to hear a bird chirp. I continued to walk, slowly, my eyes still scavenging for anything that could be suspicious. My head hurt from thinking about everything that could have happened and could happen at this very second. My eyes lock on something… strange. Straight ahead, looked, oddly still. The trees appeared to be a little too perfectly straight. I approached what lay ahead of me with caution, reaching what I had been

looking for, a 2D wall. I look straight up, realizing I have nearly been looking ahead - what I thought was the distance - but rather just a giant picture of the woods. I began to panic at this point, trying to catch my deep breaths. I reach my hand slowly towards the wall, my finger just being an inch away, my body burning up not knowing what was going to happen.

My hand came into contact with the solid wall, the slightest contact, and the wall… collapsed.

“All right everyone, that’s a wrap.”

Yellow by Amanda Timochko Yellow is happy, excited and joyous.

Yellow tastes like lemonade.

Yellow is both warm and cold.

Yellow smells like sweet lemon meringue.

Yellow is the sun and the stars.

Yellow sounds like bees buzzing.

Yellow means slow down.

Yellow is a day at the beach or in a sunflower field.

Yellow is summer.

Yellow is beginning.

This I Believe by Emily Toolen I believe that everything happens for a reason. Another way of putting this is that every effect has a cause, that all coincidental, unrelated, or harmless events refer to an individual in a personal way. This saying may not even be completely true, but the reason for me always telling myself this and convincing myself to think it’s true is that it’s a reassuring thought for me that in the end, everything will be okay.

Another way to look at this is that everything that happens today has a purpose because it turns you into the person you are becoming. Some people, myself included, can’t let events occur with no explanation or reasoning, so in a sense, if something negative or even positive takes place, it’s comforting to have a reason to fall back upon. Overall, the phrase that everything happens for a reason ties in with everything having intrinsic purposes, and when crazed events occur in my life, I will continue to say, “I believe everything happens for a reason.”

Woods/Forest by Anonymous

Covered with green trees

I step into the unknown

Wait, what was that noise?!

I Am From… by Amanda Timochko I am from yellow glass bowls, from paper towels as napkins and blue plastic plates.

I am from the welcoming dog licks. I am from the mini cactus.

From the pine trees whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own.

I’m from Sunday dinners and unity, from Mare and Dave.

I’m from cooking and basketball and from traveling.

I’m from “text me when you get there” and “the kitchen is closed,” and “Hakuna Matata.”

I’m from big summer vacations.

I’m from Holy Name Hospital and Italy and wreath cookies.

From the time Grandpa was the dance studio’s Santa Clause, always a good sport and family man.

Beautiful people in my heart forever.