Inkwell The Literary-Art Magazine of West Hills High School
2020-21
Inkwell The Literary-Art Magazine of West Hills High School
2020-21
Featuring work by
West Hills High School Student Body at Large Published in conjunction with the
West Hills High School Readers & Writers Club Cover Artwork Jyleer Martinez, Grade 12 Faculty Editor Suzanne Sannwald, Teacher Librarian
Inkwell
POETRY Once Was Lost, Now I’m Found Tranquil
Oscar Molina Jay
The Girl with No Last Name Figments of My Reality
Kayla Xiomara Lopez Phoebe Finn
Black and White Sketch The Moonwalker Castle in the Sky Godzilla vs. Mothra Tribute (Redraw) Drip Koi Mercy 2.0 Outside the box Arthur Morgan Watching You Girl Some Time Ago… Lost Contact Goddess Distraught Freshly peeled :) Cat at the Doorway Freddy Jinxx Lucifer Kona Kona Lucy Goose Castle in the Sky
Ramon E. Evie Whitney Shayla Morreale Oscar & Porifirio Molina JM JM JM JM Arizona Burke JM Arizona Burke Arizona Burke Darla Schaefer Darla Schaefer Arizona Burke Arizona Burke Darla Schaefer Darla Schaefer A.P. A.P. A.P. A.P. A.P. Shayla Morreale
2-3 15
NARRATIVE 5-10 12-13
VISUAL ART/PHOTO 1 1 1 3 4 4 4 4 5 6 7 9 10 11 11 11 12 13 14 14 14 14 14 15
CONTRIBUTORS
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Black and White Sketch Ramon E., Grade 10 Artist Note: I created this piece because in a way this is a black and white world, and art helps me express my feelings and brings joy through what I create. I hope that others will feel inspired to pursue their passions through my piece.
The Moonwalker Evie Whitney, Grade 12 Artist Note: The reason I was inspired to create this piece is because the person in the art piece is one of the biggest influences in my life and I wanted to honor him in art form.
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Once Was Lost, Now I'm Found
Oscar Molina, Grade 12
Oh, sweet childhood, why I can’t go back to the old way where life seemed so simple. Where I was satisfied with what was on my hands to imagine things for hours. When can I go back to a time where friends came from a few houses away to hang out with them for hours without end. When can I ever go back to do my responsibilities easily that I have all the time in the world to play. When there was ever a time where people love each other without having to be prejudiced against someone for being unique. Where we have fun and not worry about what we eat, dress, or sleep. Where we can find our curiosity and explore beyond our limitations. A time where we can all have a good time together despite our differences. Nowadays as a teenager, life seems to become the opposite of what childhood days became. All those years of free time filled with laughter and joy have gone astray. Friends that used to stay together have gone their separate ways, while I have stayed here waiting to play. Stuff I imagine for years, all began to wither away when reality comes near. Responsibilities skyrocket without an end, as freetime drifted away without time to kick back and spare again. Teenagers become selfish and hate each other, without having the chance for knowing one another. continued on next page 2
Inkwell Once Was Lost, Now I'm Found (continued)
Teenagers never have fun because they complain and worry only about themselves the next day. Our curiosity shrinks when people tell us to keep our heads down. People chase after wrong desires that would leave love behind to let it drown. It seems that now as a teenager, I became skeptical of making decisions right now. So many directions to choose that I don’t want to disappoint anyone around. As if I’m a teenager stuck in a boy’s body that I resist change, not a day goes by where I can go back to simpler days. Now I realise that the future is a beacon of hope, to wake up every morning to find joy in every slippery slope. To enjoy everything in the simple things in life. To have food, community, friendship, and breath for delight. My childhood was grand for its time, now I need to look for the future before I reach the other side. Anybody listening to this message, please listen through, someday my experience will probably change you.
Godzilla vs. Mothra
Oscar Molina (and his brother Porifirio Molina), Grade 12
Artist Note: This drawing inspired the poem.
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Artwork
by JM, Grade 12
Tribute (Redraw)
Koi
Drip
Mercy 2.0 4
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The Girl with No Last Name Kayla Xiomara Lopez, Grade 10
The scar. The one from the tip of her left sharp threaded eyebrow to the tip of her button nose. A line that seemed to have been sewn by one’s own hand. The scar, the one that became zagged at the lift of her bottom lip. The rare movement. The scar that created a smile between her eyes at the sight of a bird. The scar, the definition of a girl. “Why don’t you go ahead son, and tell us the story?” said Officer Carter. I could feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. How could you possibly tell the story of a girl that blew through your life and right out in an instance? How could you tell the story of a girl whose story she did not want to be known? I could feel the officer’s stare burning into my back… “Well Officer Carter, it all starts with the girl with no last name… Arizona Burke, Grade 9 Summer 1957 The grass was greener than it has been all summer. The sun was burning my skin, and my white t-shirt stuck to my chest. The field goes on for miles, and I would continue to go as far as my feet carried me. “Sawyer, through up that haystack won’t ya?” “SAWYER!” I snapped back into the present. I was on the Crawford’s Family farm again. Same as last summer, and the one before, and it will be that way for the summers to come. “Sorry about that, Robert. Come on, you can’t tell me…” I said, swinging my arm around my big brother before being caught off. At that moment I caught the presence of a man, a well underdeveloped man to be exact in the wheat field. I hopped off the truck bed and ran to the beginning of the tall stalks with the hollering of my brother behind me. “I’ll be right back! I think I might have drunk too much of your juice, Robert” I hollered back with a smirk creeping on my lips. “Sure you did!” he yelled back with a swing of his hand. I crept through the stalks until I could make out that this underdeveloped man, who was in fact a girl.
Outside the box
continued on next page 5
Inkwell The Girl with No Last Name (continued) “Can I help you?” she demanded in my direction. She was tanned, with long golden brown hair to her mid-back and honey hazel eyes that were being hit perfectly with the sun. I was stunned, I’ve never seen many girls before except for my mama and my aunties at weekend barbecues. “Boy, I am not going to repeat myself again.” “Sorry, the name’s Sawyer.” “As in Tom Sawyer?” “That would be the one. My mama always read me the book before bed until I could read myself. It’s one of her favorite books to be exact, and she always gave me the job of painting the fence, which is funny because I am pretty sure Tom Sawyer did the same thing.” I was rambling, I always rambled when I was nervous, “Well, I’m not pretty sure, but am positive he did, I should know, my mama always read me the book before bed until…” “You could read,” she said, cutting me off. “Do you ever stop talking, boy?” “Sawyer.” “Excuse me?” “The name’s Sawyer. Sawyer Green to be exact.” “Yes, we’ve been through that already.” “Well, you called me boy when the name’s Sawyer, I don’t like being called boy when we all know I’m a man,” I said, spreading my arms to my side and signaling all the individuals which were imaginary. That was the first time I saw the outline of a smile, and the first time I noticed her scar, the one that crinkled at the edges. “Anyways, what’s your name?” “The name’s Nadie.” “What kind of name is that?” “It means to be wise, something you might be lacking just a bit.” “And we're forgetting something?” I said, JM, Grade 12 ignoring the obvious comment of my smartness. “And what would that be?” “That would be the last name, Miss Nadie. Everybody got one, even the old man who sits outside his house with a pistol. That’s a cranky old man right there.”
Arthur Morgan
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The Girl with No Last Name (continued) “Well for a matter of fact, I don’t got one.” … “That would be the first encounter I had with the girl, Officer Carter,” I said, I never knew how much that little encounter, the spotting of her on that sunny day would have amounted to so much. Nadie My little blue and white dress could not have been dirtier. I was hanging off by threads. I stepped off Bus 579 into the hot Alabama sun. An odd number, those always got me, it always ended up being a play on days where our luck was thrown up into the air and left to those around us to decide our fate. This land was so strange to me, although I had been raised here exactly eight years, nine months, sixteen days, four hours, and nine minutes ago. I wave good-bye to the elderly lady who was Arizona Burke, Grade 9 exactly seventy-eight years old today. An even number. Today would be a good day for her. I walked across the dusty street, holding my straw hat to my eyes, hoping I can make out the words on the crosswalk. I’m heading to the Crawford’s Family Farm. It consists of the word family in the title, but it consists of only an elderly couple who were never able to have children. A couple, that’s an even number. It would be a good family.
Watching You
I walked up the dusty road towards the main house. Who knew so much wheat could grow so quickly. I could stop at the barn and hopefully get a lift to the house, but I wanna keep introductions to a minimum. I decide to run through the wheat to avoid being spotted, but when I make it to the front of the wheat field, feet away from the main house door, I froze. I feel my hands and feet go numb. How could I ever expect to show up at a house in this manner? I do not know these individuals. I saw their name on a list at the orphanage… they want a child… but what if they do not want me? I’m cut out of my thoughts when I hear the rustling of the wheat behind me… it’s a boy. I decide I must show dominance if I was to avoid the questioning of my presence. I would speak in ten seconds, that’s an even number, all will go well. Sawyer I have been working later on the farm for the past weeks. Where could this girl be? No last name? Who does not have a last name? These were all my thoughts while swinging down the haystacks to the bottom of the barn. continued on next page 7
Inkwell The Girl with No Last Name (continued) I worked in Crawford's barn. It was painted white and had little windows running on the sides. It was a big barn, had two little ledges where the hay was stored, and down below we kept the horses and sheep. The barn was never used but to store materials and keep animals. It had first been built as the main house, but when the couple lost the first baby, it was unbearable for the couple to stay there. It has now become my sanctuary. Nadie “Clean sheets are in the linen closet as well as fresh towels”. said Mrs. Crawford as she escorted me around the house. She had accepted me into her house two weeks ago. She had cleaned me up, fed and dressed me. I could not have been more appreciative. “You have been in that room for quite a while young lady. Why don’t you try exploring the grounds? We have livestock towards the east side,” she said pointing in their directions, “but we keep the horses and sheep in the west side.” That caught my attention, horses were one of my greatest loves. I nodded in agreement towards her and ran out of the house in an instant. I found a big white barn. It was enclosed with a brown twig fence and a big oak tree with branches so wide it could carry me away and had a windmill in the back pointing towards the house. I opened the door to the barn with a loud scrape and out came flying multiple pigeons. I yelped and threw myself on the floor. “Never seen birds before?” It was the boy from the first day on the wheat field. Sawyer. “Yes, I have, I was just surprised that’s all” “What are you doing here?” “Mrs. Crawford let me explore the grounds for the day, I wanted to see the horses,” I said trying to look behind him in hopes of seeing them and hoping I chose the right barn or had I mixed up the directions? “Why didn’t you just say so? Come on,” he said with a flick of his head. Sawyer I almost fell off the balcony when I saw the barn door open. Nobody was supposed to be on the farm grounds, especially not me. I was relieved to see Nadie lying on the floor. She wanted to see the horses. Who wants to see horses? Aren’t they for work? “Come over here. I’ll show you where we keep the brushes.” She followed me around the barn and we spend the whole day bathing, brushing, and feeding the horses. The sun was beginning to set and she said she had to go. “Don’t go!” I said a little too harshly, “I mean, hold on, I want to show you one more thing.” I nodded towards a little pen at the back of the barn. She followed me and gasped at the view. It was the second time I had seen the hint of a smile and the crinkling of the scar. I kept on wondering what caused it but was not going to risk any hostility with such a question. continued on next page 8
Inkwell The Girl with No Last Name (continued) “They’re beautiful Sawyer,” she said. That was the moment I knew I at least had made a friend. The first individual, the first girl to call me by my name. “The mama sheeps had them this morning. They’re baby sheep!” “A lamb.” “What?” “ A baby sheep is called a lamb.” This time she did smile and it must have brought the sun back up into the sky because it was the brightest part of my day. “Bye, Sawyer”. I snapped out of my daydream, it was sunset, she had to go, I waved but stood up almost immediately. “Wait!” “Yes?” She asked with a smile playing on her face. “Don’t tell anybody I was here please. I’m kinda not supposed to.” I put my hands up immediately, “I work here, I’m not here bothering the property or anything, I’m just not supposed to be here today.” Her smile came back again. “Don’t worry, it was the best wrong thing you did.” And with that she left, the wind blowing through the open door.
Girl
Arizona Burke, Grade 9
Nadie continued to come back every day from noon to sunset. I made sure to always be there. We played around the barn and talked for hours. She was my one and only best friend I had ever had. Nadie: Fall 1957 I have fallen completely in love with Sawyer and him with me. He is the closest friend I have at the moment. Maybe even the closest friend I have ever had. It’s ironic since I have never told him my past or the reason I am here. But that is the last worry on my mind. Summer has ended and school is starting up again. Sawyer cannot stop talking about me meeting all his friends and all the books we get to read. Mrs.Crawford is speaking about sending me to the nearby school as well. I cannot go there, they will find out who I am. Sawyer Today is the first day of school. I promised Nadie I would walk with her but I was awakened at three in the morning. Nadie is gone, as well as her stuff and her straw hat. The one that travels everywhere with her. I knew at that moment she was truly gone. I was brought into the police station for questioning, I had been the last to see her. I had no responses, all so vague just like her. continued on next page 9
Inkwell The Girl with No Last Name (continued)
“Son, this is not a game, there is a sixteen-year-old girl out on the streets. COLD, ALONE!” he raised his voice. I knew at that moment that would be the only answer he would receive with total confidence. “Officer Carter let it be known that if she is gone, she wanted to go, it was not even a want at the end but a need, I am sure of it. She was the girl with no last name, after all.”
I was able to leave the station later that day, and I headed straight for the barn. She couldn’t be gone forever, not just like that. I found a letter that day, upon the balcony: Dear Sawyer, It’s me, Nadie. You will forever be my best friend, my true mate. You never knew me, but you did know me more than anyone else. My name is Nadie. But you already knew that. I am a sixteen-year- girl with an obsession with numbers. I was raised for eight years in Connecticut. I became an orphan at fourteen when I lost my parents in a train accident. It is the way I received my scar. I had survivor’s guilt for years but learned to love life again through you. I took my own path and have caused some problems on the way. I cannot be found, and I am happy with my life as a voyager. Forever exploring the grounds. You will forever be remembered and loved by me Sawyer Green.
Some Time Ago...
With forever love, Nadie Grace Williamson
Darla Schaefer, Grade 12
P.S. Sawyer, don’t tell anybody I was here just like I didn’t tell anyone the first day in the barn. Share our story if you like, it’s yours to tell now. But I’ll keep my mind to myself. Today is an even day, it will be a good day. She was my best friend, Nadie Grace. She taught many lessons of liberty, trust, and innocence. She will forever be remembered through my story. The girl with the scar… the girl with no last name. Author Note: "I was inspired by the farms I have grown up on as a child and the multiple people that passed by them and the stories that you get to learn and the ones you are left wondering.
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Lost Contact
Darla Schaefer, Grade 12
Goddess
Arizona Burke, Grade 9
Distraught
Arizona Burke, Grade 9
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Figments of My Reality Phoebe Finn, Grade 9
Floating in a room beside morphed entities, surrounded by a thick, flexuous black interior, is a young woman, hitting barely the age of seventeen. No—she is a frail, skin-cracked elderly woman, one whom the kids would describe as wise and affectionate. Is it the crow’s feet clasping onto the corners of her eyes? Or the way her welcoming smile...sneers upwards to the side? She is not a she, but a he. A he who grips into his palms as if resisting the urge to barrel through the side of my cheek and out the other. Eyes widening in horror, I brace myself for numb flesh, lack of a nose, and shriveled lungs incapable of performing. His arm swings in a rapid motion, revving up his strength and centering its power Darla Schaefer, Grade 12 towards the edge of his knuckles. Smoothly, as though his propeller of an arm is removed of bones, the popping veins dissipate into his flush, slender arm. Traveling overhead and around his torso in an artistic manner, I focus on the rest of his liquid body, flowing as if it were water itself, gliding to the pulse of my heart thumping rhythmically within my head. Slick, black hair brushes his hips, ever so often brisking his—her breasts, which are draped with a silk cloth dancing upon her ankles. Intensely invested in the movement of her form, the shock of the transformation evades my nerves before the feeling can be processed. Too soon, the slithering of her body no longer holds its original grace, but instead intimidating sways, which cause my breath to tremble. Staring fiercely through my eyes hovers a dragon of magnitude indescribable. Searching for my voice, I attempt to gasp for help, only to receive my pleas echo in response. Daring to break the beast’s gaze, I scan for another soul in hopes of being rescued. Desperate circles spin my limbs into a twist, my head orbiting my brain. My brain. I immediately recognize the squishy void of desolate blackness; it resembles my inner eyelids whenever I had attempted to escape the faces that all too appeared familiar. The adolescent, whose wrinkled face could not match her youthful figure, which could not match his piercing, hungry eyes, which could not be seen through the dynamic swirls of her fluid structure, which now stands before me, burning in a pile of writhing scales.
freshly peeled :)
continued on next page 12
Inkwell Figments of My Reality (continued)
My voice returns to my throat, bellowing out the holes of my face in a strangled, shattering screech. Reverberating off the enclosed walls of my surroundings, the squall blazes my skin, clinging onto the flesh until it claws its way in and out, weaving through the tissue. Noticing a thin hair streak past my inflaming face, I lurch forward as teeth sink into my forearm, tearing away my existence. The teeth drip the blood of my own vessel, but also that of another man’s. I notice the teeth are not teeth at all but in fact nails. The same nails belonging to the man eager to diminish my being. The hand, however, features gentle, polished skin, similar to that of the sitting lady’s. Slowly, as these creatures gnaw at the core of my substance, a thin veil falls to the ground, revealing a void vast in comparison to my own. I begin to walk toward the endless barren, only to be stopped short by the dearth of my legs. In an attempt to view the absence of my limbs, I find myself gaping at the eternity of nothing ahead of my vision. Behind my vision, above my vision, and below what can only be determined as my vision.
Cat at the Doorway
Darla Schaefer, Grade 12
Author Note: "Figments of My Reality" was simply inspired by an evening of playing games with friends, specifically Loaded Questions. I was asked to answer, "If you directed a horror movie, how would the first person die?" Fumbling through my head, I recognized the di culty of developing a response. This realization soon led to the idea of thoughts destroying a person, therefore I landed with: Schizophrenic character dies from imagined person eating their way from the mind out.
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Photography by A.P., Grade 12
Freddy Artist Note: Freddy, named after Freddy Krueger, was a feeder fish for a turtle. Freddy survived and is now living in paradise with Jason and Bubba, his two other tank mates!
Jinxx & Lucifer Artist Note: Jinxx and Lucifer are the most mischievous kitties anyone could encounter. These guys are total goofballs especially when it is 3 A.M., you are trying to sleep, and they are singing Phantom of the Kitty all night. These crazy but lovable cats are the highlight of my day.
Kona Kona & Lucy Goose
Artist Note: Kona, named after the coffee brand, is my nine-year-old Mini Pin mix that my dad adopted a year and a half ago for my step-mom for Christmas. He barks and barks as if he is a big bad tough guy if he doesn't know you, but when he really gets to know you, he's a sweetheart that loves to burrow himself into blankets and sleep.
Lucy is my neighbor's two-year-old purebred German Shepherd that I watch and care for sometimes. "Goose" or "Lucy Goose" are some of many nicknames we have for her. Lucy is a very energetic young pup that loves to meet new people. Even though her bark sounds ferocious, she just wants to see and meet you!
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Tranquil Jay, Grade 11
Have you ever experienced the quiet of 3:00 am in its entirety? The refreshing cold that glitters over your skin and pokes through your clothes Keeping you awake The skid of cars as they drive by The lights dancing around It is in these moments where I long for company Someone to stare out into the cold and dark nothingness of the highway across my street Someone who I can share this beauty with Someone who will stay with me even though they are tired Someone who will wear their pajamas and not make a fuss if they get too cold Because they know I enjoy it and want to experience things like I do for a change Someone who will drink soda out of a mug because they know I can’t stand the bitter taste of coffee and I’ve never really liked tea In all its tranquility, it lulls you to sleep while I waste away Because sleep never comes easy to me Not when my body knows it belongs to the night And then the birds chirp and suddenly our bubble is ruined And we bide our time until it is 3:00 am again
Castle in the Sky
Shayla Morreale, Grade 10
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Contributors
A.P. Arizona Burke Darla Schaefer Evie Whitney Jay JM Kayla Xiomara Lopez Oscar Molina Phoebe Finn Ramon E. Shayla Morreale
14 5, 7, 9, 11 10, 11, 12, 13 1 15 4, 6 5-10 2-3 12-13 1 15
NOTE: While students must submit work formally identified, they may optionally be published under chosen pen names. In addition, the 2020-21 school year has been uniquely challenging due to the COVID-19 pandemic. This edition has fewer contributors than in past years, but the works within are powerful, as always. We honor these contributors for courageously sharing, especially given current conditions.
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Inkwell is a West Hills High School tradition showcasing the creative works of students.
Members of the West Hills Readers and Writers Club would like to thank: All of you, our kind readers of Inkwell Students from previous Inkwell editions who paved the way Staff members who encouraged students to submit work to Inkwell Students who bravely shared work to be included in this edition of Inkwell Santee County Librarian Kelly Chung for fueling our creativity Grossmont Union High School District Print Shop West Hills Admin for their guidance & support: Principal Robin Ballarin and Vice Principals April Baker, Carrie Gaeir, and John Hoadley
We are One We are the Pack