THE DEEP END
The Woodstock Academy’s Literary & Arts Magazine
Ava Clark ’28
Zeo Fish ’27
Kaylyn Hall ’26
Carlita Herrera ’28
Dakota Joseph ’26
Avery Nielsen ’26
Kyrialis Rivera ’26
Emma Rustichelli ’26
Grace Sallar ’27
Ryan Yang ’26
The Deep End Staff Advisors
Madison Millar
Samantha Romero
Untitled by Grette Zheng ’27
‘51 Chevy by Jack Wiggin ‘25
Dear Readers,
I would like to introduce you to this year’s edition of The Woodstock Academy’s Literary & Arts Magazine, The Deep End! We’ve poured a lot of love into this year’s edition. This is our second consecutive year after being put on hold back in 2020, and we’re elated to be able to continue to share the work of the students at The Academy.
All of the work submitted was fantastic; it’s clear that there is so much talent in the students here. It was hard for us to decide what to put in, and we’re so appreciative of everyone who submitted something for the magazine. We would like to thank everyone who did submit, and congratulate those who made it in the magazine. With that, I would like to welcome you to the 2025 Woodstock Academy Literary & Arts Magazine: The Deep End! Enjoy!
Kyrialis Rivera
Kyrialis Rivera ’26 Senior Editor
“Out of Reach”
by Ms.No One
I see the way his eyes light up
When he looks at her
I notice the way he holds the door
And how she wont leave him hurt
What they have is something special
Not something that comes & goes
A what they have is amazing
Something I’ll never know
I’ll never have somebody to talk to
I’ll never have something to lose
I’ll never know if somebody would come back
I don’t mean to seem jealous
I don’t mean to sound hopeless
But nobody is looking for me & I’m left here by myself
The falling apart is a process in which your own world seems to end.
The falling apart is how we as people find our true selves.
The falling apart is a chapter of our lives that takes us to hell and back. The falling apart can be quick or take longer than expected. When falling you learn, Life is hard. People leave.
The world seems worthless.
After we fall apart we find a way to pick up the pieces. After we fall we find the people that make us happy. After we fall we pursue something that makes us feel alive.
After we fall we remember. We remember what falling felt like. The depths of the darkness we were in. The voices in your head shouting “give in”. The pitch-black, inescapable hole. We remember we proved ourselves wrong and we escaped.
We remember that when you fall, You get back up.
-Emily Smock ‘25
White ‘25
Deflowered by Chandler Folkerts ‘25
“The Waiting Room”
by Kaylyn Hall ‘26
I’m trapped in the waiting room again. Time passes. Or does it?
I hear the tick tick tick
Of the clock,
Inching closer and closer and closer
To my inevitable death, The stomp stomp stomp
Of the people I’ve once known,
So close, yet so far away. So familiar, yet so unpredictable.
Yet I decide to stay here in this waiting room.
People change.
Who were once close friends become just a flicker of a memory, Like a forgotten chest of toys you once loved as a child Are now rusted and starting to grow mold.
And the things I once loved Are simply obstacles in the endless, unfortunate loop of time. Where every move you make, Every step you take, Is the same everyday.
Yet I decide to stay here in this waiting room. But through it all,
What was once an endless passage
Throughout a seemingly infinite tunnel of darkness, Is a speck of light;
A light that appeared just the time I needed it.
The light I keep with me
Through all the obstacles,
Through all the endless days and nights
Through all the forgotten memories.
The light that just may grapple my hand And lead me out of this waiting room.
Unheard Truths by Jacob Cutler ‘25
In Shambles by Jacob Cutler ‘25
Miss Sam’s Town by Chandler Folkerts ‘25
Gasoline Blood by Chandler Folkerts ‘25
“Cotardium”
by Kyrialis Rivera ‘26
Auri sat in a field, staring out into the distance as the sun rose on a new day. It was the only being there, having wandered far from society while mindlessly exploring the world. It touched the grass, the feeling of touch a mere memory it was trying to hold on to—a distant memory of connection, of family, of love.
It sits in the sun, trying to remember what it was like to feel warm, it only feels cold, so so cold, its skin akin to ice, blood long since done moving through its veins.
It tries to remember what a field in the morning smells like, the dew still fresh on the grass as the sun begins warming the earth. It remembers that it used to like the smell of the rain, before everything started fading.
It thinks it can hear birds singing their morning song, it thinks it can hear bugs flying around it. It’s not sure anymore.
It moves to lay down, its skin touching the dirt and mud, bugs crawling through the soil onto its hands and arms and legs and hair and face and skin.
It wants to join them.
It sinks into the soil, letting the bugs and worms crawl over its body, the body that it no longer owns, the body they are just a guest in, accepting its fate to join the worms and bugs in the dirt, becoming nothing but waste and scrap to refuel the cycle, use its body and bones for something useful, something that has purpose.
Auri knows it is dead.
It is a walking sack of meat and bone, a lump of something that once was human, once was filled with passion and vigor and purpose.
It lost all of that long ago. It knows it cannot get that back.
Does it want it back?
Does it want to be human again? Does it want to live? Does it want to feel the sensations of life, to feel love again, to feel what it means to be alive?
Does it matter?
It doesn’t think so.
It doesn’t want to live again, to be a burden to society once more, to cause grief and pain and frustration to those around.
It just wants to die. But she can’t.
A part of it knows she lives, a part of it knows that she wants to keep living, she wants to keep experiencing the joys and perils of life, and it knows it has no say. For now, it wants to die. Forever, she wants to live.
“Trust”
by Katelyn McArthur ‘26
Trust
Trust is like a broken glass
Once it is broken
It is never the same
It takes time
And energy
And hope
To put it back together
Trust is like a broken glass
Because once it is broken
It will never be as strong
The glue you had to use
After you broke the glass
Is not as durable
As when the glass was whole
Trust is like a broken glass
Because sometimes it is so shattered
It cannot be put back together
It is broken
And that’s the end of its story
It cannot be used again
And it cannot be fixed
It was whole
But then somebody dropped it
Trust is like a broken glass
Sometimes repairable
Sometimes lost forever
Don’t drop the glass
“The Underworld” by anonymous
I have never believed in religion. Putting faith into an imaginary figure who might not even be real was just plain stupid. However, when that strong, beardless creature had torn my arm off and left me to bleed to death, a light had shown over me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was God on the other side, summoning me towards him. But no, that was a foolish thought, because I awoke in an unfamiliar wooded area. The sky is murky and as still as the river when ice forms over it. The calm before the storm. A low rumble of thunder spreads across this unfamiliar land. With no notable landmarks in sight, I conclude I must no longer be in the dark woods of my homeland. Whatever religion I do or do not believe in, one thing was for sure; this is definitely Hell.
I stand, looking through the trees. I walk through the foreign woods like a pig the day before Yule: venerable and on high alert. Something catches my eye. A large structure standing so tall I had to tilt my head back to see the top that was lurching over the treetops. It looks like a house, but I was unsure because it is nothing like the homes in the village of Hereot: they were small, wooden, and filled with ugly and pitiful creatures. But this house) is large and made partially of wood and partially of some hard and grey material I did not know of. It had many large holes carved into it: Were those holes created on purpose? Was the structure attacked, and the attackers created the holes? It must have been an attack, creating holes in a house, what a stupid thing to do.
The air as cold and dead as winter, unwanted creatures, and monstrous humans could easily infiltrate the walls, and those walls seem to stretch to the edges of time and space. Plenty of room for dead air.
My mind races, thinking about how a house this elaborate could have been created. A beaver could not build a damn this sturdy. I’m not sure if I’m more impressed or intimidated by whatever creature did this. Maybe I should just hunt it down and kill it… take away its power?
Hours sluggishly pass by as slow as a climbing goat’s reaction time. Rain begins to spew from the sunless sky and the thunder grew louder and as low as a wolf howling to his pack about a kill. Maybe waiting for these creatures was as pointless and meaningless as that climbing goat’s purpose on earth. Nevertheless, I stayed waiting.
A loud bang catches my attention. I witness a bird trying to fly through what I thought to be holes in the house. The bird had bounced off what seemed to be a transparent wall. How did these creatures create such a thing? A wall that you cannot see? This event makes it even more apparent to me that these creatures were far too powerful, and it would be my duty to kill them. Unable to penetrate the house, the bird’s lifeless body flailed to the ground.
My thoughts are abrupted as I am blinded by two bright lights coming toward me. They look much like the light I saw when that beardless man had me in his grasp. The lights stem from a black box that was curiously rolling down the long black path leading up to the house. The box comes to a halt and a female creature, looking much like those in Hereot, stepped out of the mysterious black box. I gawk at the creature’s strange attire and the small, glowing rectangular object she held in her hand. The creature holds it with so much intent and admiration, as if she were holding all the secrets of the universe.
I watch them through the transparent walls, closely, as they walk throughout the house. Suddenly, a door flew open and two four-legged animals came racing towards me. One was smaller than the other and they look at me with pure angst: a look I am far too familiar with. The four-leggeds yelp as if they were calling out for help. I should kill them now, so they will feel my same pain. They will die while calling for help just as I did while calling out for my mother in my final moments.
Loud noises come from the beasts as they begin to retreat to the house, their tails between their legs as they run for their lives. The creature inside the house quickly opens the door to allow the beasts in. I run to the transparent door but was unable to get to it before the creature slammed it into my body. I heard a clicking noise as I try to barge into the house. I bang my fist on the hard, clear, door. On the other side I can see the fear in the creatures’ eyes.
“Pity poor Grendel,” I whisper. “Locked outside of the world he so desperately wanted to be in, again. On the outside looking in, again. Left out in his world, this world, and presumably every world he may encounter. Pity Poor Grendel.”
These creatures could physically lock me out of their world, and I have no influence to intervene with. I was impotent. My brute force is useless, and that was pretty much all I had in my past life. I cannot believe I have become just like that idiotic goat: meaningless and incompetent. Someone should take a log and use it to push me off a cliff. Death is inevitable anyways and life is meaningless. Might as well just put me out of my misery. While every single detail of this foreign place is uncertain to me, the one thing that I do know is true, is that this truly is my Hell
“Violet”
By Ms.No One
Different shades in different spots
The bud everyone has now forgot
Underrated violet on the lawn
A single lyric in a archive song
You’re not upset being after the rose Joy in your rows
You don’t mind if you are ignored
You always push even though your sore
Your always so bright Distant like the nights
“Sounds of Acadia”
by Emily Smock ‘26
There was this serenity of being alone with it all,
The gentle lapping of the lake against the rocky shore.
The low bass of the waves in holes between rocks.
The light thuds of my own gentle footfalls against the the well worn wooden paths.
The crunch of gravel under my feet.
The gentle melody accompanied by the gentle breeze and calls of birds,
The soft green glow of the leaves set the stage for my own personal symphony. It feels as though these words have been said before because they have,
The words and sweet sounds of the woods have echoed off the rocky faces of the mountains for centuries and will echo until there is no more music to be made and no more mountains to echo.
He Clothed the Flowers of the Field, He Will Not Do More for You by Katelyn McArthur ‘26
There’s Always a Bigger Picture by Katelyn McArthur ‘26
Us by Ayden Lamontagne ‘27
I had hoped that the coming of my dear, sweet summer rain would let the heat lift, but of course that hope was for naught.
I watched from the windows of a well worn home as the rain dumped itself out of the sky.
So much so that I couldn’t see the raindrops race down the window, but only the sheet of water.
I watched the drops form along the edges of the windowsills and watched them fall to the earth.
In between the pelting and pounding and pattering I could see the flashes of lightning and I would count, listening for the rumble of the thunder.
I could nearly make out indistinct objects, but I could hear the clear chimes as the wind whipped them about. I fear this rain may never end.
-even in turbulent weather, all storms must end, the heat will break, the sun will shine again
-Emily Smock ‘25
Kitchen
Tomatoes by Jack Wiggin ‘25
So I’ve mentioned that I thrive in good chaos before
But I realize you might not know what that is
It’s hard to explain in real English because it’s a feeling
But here we go anyway
Good chaos is
When everything seems to be falling apart, but actually we are moving forward.
Good chaos is
Like the day of a concert, where I am running around to make sure we are ready
Good chaos is
Going to six flags without adult supervision and doing rollercoasters
Good chaos is
What someone might look at and think that we’ll never get to our goal
Spoiler alert: We do
-Emily Smock ‘25
Tiny House by Jillian Wiggin ‘25
2024 WA Football by Abby Ditzel ‘26
Stag Beetle by Bailey Nordman ‘25
One thing you must know is nothing happens in our small town. We must make our own fun in the dusty streets and deep woods. The closest things to me are sometimes my neighbors but more often the trees.
The only time the traffic is more than a few cars is Labor Day weekend, and after school pickup time.
In summers there is the lake and your own yard.
One thing you must know is that nothing ever happens in our small town
But one thing you must consider is:
Everything happens in our small town.
The world still spins and the sun still dances across our sky.
Families are still made and hearts are still broken.
Children grow up and measure their heights along doorframes.
People leave and return to visit family and memories.
The scenery for many magnificent memories is this small town.
One thing you must know is that nothing ever happens in our small town, except for our small town lives.
Badlands by Bailey Nordman ‘25
Today I wrote a 50 word biography.
50 words doesn’t do me justice.
This is me.
I am summer rain.
I am the slap of flip flops against your heel.
I am my own favorite song
I am a lover of nature.
I am a writer.
I am with music in my veins.
I am out of the box in all sorts of ways.
I am on an endless search for love.
I am the oldest daughter, but
I am more a daughter of the world than a daughter of my mother.
I am from everywhere and nowhere at once.
I am late night conversations and laughing until our stomachs hurt.
I am always on the search for the things that make me love living life.
I am smart, even when I don’t give myself credit.
I am accomplished even without recognition.
I am building my chosen family from the heart out.
I am poetry. Liquid and flowing.
-Emily Smock ‘25
Target by Bailey Nordman
“Sleep”
by anonymous
As she lay awake
Unable to sleep
Her fears start to creep Into her mind
Her anxiety Implants itself so deep
She feels like She is running out of time
As the mind makes
The thoughts worsen
She feels as though She is unable to breathe
Everything within her tightens
Her lungs
Her heart
Her teeth
“The
Journey of Belonging”
By Khac Tien Tran ‘25
Why do I feel like I belong in places I know I’m not supposed to?
In the cracks, in the rawness of reality, I sit in peace.
Such an odd disturbance I am. It’s only among the odd, among the shadows I feel at ease to just be me.
I was not made for fancy things.
I belong in the dirt and the blood.
I am not a royal beast.
The finer things are wasted on me.
I just want to be left alone.
To not pretend
To not fit in
But to succeed in the mess I am.
She feels stiff With fear of what is there
And what is to come
She’s unable to move
But shaking uncontrollably
From the dreadful anxiety
She’s stuck in her past And can’t let go
She’s listening to music
To try to make her mind slow
The words are blurred
Like she’s under water
Like she is drowning
But in reality She is She is drowning in her fear And anxiety
And she slowly drifts away Into her death Or sleep
With the fear Of not knowing
What will make her
Be able to breathe
A Facade by Anonymous
“Green”
by A.N.
I’m going to hate you, I’m sorry. Maybe not all of the time, But on and off a lot,
And please just keep this in mind:
It’s not at all your fault, It truly is just mine. Because as you may know, I love the color green
For it’s the color of my eyes, But now all of me is green
And it’s getting hard to disguise.
I wish I could just be happy for you
But that’s not at all how I’m feeling, For I’m really mad that you chose her, And I’m not only mad
But I’m truly, really hurt. Because I’ve known you just as long But I’ve loved you for longer, And it simply isn’t fair
That you’ve instead fallen for her.
But now it’s getting harder to care.
So, like my eyes
My heart has turned green
Because I’m no longer filled with love
I’m now filled with envy.
“Anxiety” by anonymous
I’m shaking I am bound to you and I cannot breathe for the overwhelming anxiety is getting to me
they take up space in my head surrounding me until i am late in my bed these thoughts keep me awake and breathe on me till i break my mind is racing and everything is loud i keep on pacing and i cry aloud
i cannot rid my brain of this for it cannot be silenced i take pills to quiet the pain and yet the anxiety takes me in vain
i wait for the day that i break free but i can never get it away from me for i am chained down to it in a never ending pile to be claimed
i will take the blame as it consumes my brain i spiral into hole for it remains that i cannot control
these overwhelming thoughts this anxiety is finally getting to me and i begin to rot because it is upsetting me
Some days we are infinite. We look out to the sky and see the future, The possibilities. Whatever comes next.
The day after tomorrow. But in reality we are always finite.
One day you and I will cease to exist. One day every life you’ve ever touched will cease to exist. Does that mean we give up?
Hold so fast to the memories that we can make no more? Does our finite destiny define our finite life?
There are no further realizations. Sit with my question and determine your answer.
-Emily Smock ‘25
I Am Exactly What I Want to Be by
Chandler Folkerts ‘25
Dear world, you have been cruel but also kind. You have sent me challenge after challenge, but still I prevail. There is always the need to succeed, but there is always a challenge. This challenge can prove to be difficult and cruel but can also be the challenge that can teach you something that you did not expect. This challenge can be the thing that makes you the person you are but also turn you into the person you never wish to be.
This is the life we are dealt, whether we want it or not. Thank you world for making me who I am.
-anonymous
It’s Not a Phase Uncle Sam! by Chandler Folkerts ‘25
Untitled by Grette Zheng ‘27
Untitled by Grette Zheng ‘27
Untitled by Grette Zheng ‘27
Pull of the Cross by Anonymous
“True Words of Life”
by Khac Tien Tran ‘25
The power of words is awesome to behold. They build and they break, they fuel and they fold. A simple word, empowers a man, Or throws his hopes, his dreams in the can. Such simple devices, such miniscule tools, But used correctly, can elevate fools.
Just letters on a page? It does not seem so, Do not simply think, your words will go nowhere. Everything said, by someone’s received, For better or worse, in thought and in deed. Regardless of all, the things you have heard, Do not disregard the weight of your words.
Life comes, life goes, this and more we know. But do we see why it goes?
Friends stay, friends leave, if only by who’s heave? True friends, they never leave.
Family is, family was, is there ever a because? Why must pass what is and was?
Pain it stings, pain it bites, pain it takes away all might. Such a hopeless, hopeless fight.
What departs, what remains, what does constant effort gain? What cause is worth more than pain?
Nothing lasts, no things pass, Nothing has such great mass. Do not forget, this too shall pass.
Lunar Protector by Alana Maiullo ‘28
Reverie by Ryan Yang ‘26
Taillight by Ryan Yang ‘26
Abstract Paper by Lilah Jafar-DeCesare ‘26
“One Year Ago Today…”
A.N.
I was scrolling on my phone While listening to music. Then I got a Google Memory. I automatically clicked on it, I regretted it immediately, But I watched that slideshow Of people I once called family. That one minute was one year long. It’s almost disrespectful How all of those people, All of those memories Are wrapped up into a song, No matter how much we miss each other, If we do at all, we know we cannot go back To when we were free, by
All the wonder you have done Hope has rung I am adored I do not need anything more You took risks The shadows you resist Your truly the greatest Your light tales the best You lead us all Through the hill large and tall Apart of the world forever Innocent you’re a feather
“You”
by Ms. No One
in the Same
One
by Jack Wiggin ‘25
