Contact 2019 - 2020

CONTACT - A Literary Magazine -

Woodland Regional High School 2019-2020

Woodland Regional High School 135 Back Rimmon Road Beacon Falls, CT 06403 Phone: (203)881-5551 Website: www.region16ct.org Enrollment: 680 Students

Vo l u m e 1 9 , I s s u e 1

Theme: Teal and Purple (Colors of Creative Writing) Program: Adobe InDesign CC 2019 Font Family Used: Adelle Condensed and Kohinoor Devanagari Paper Stock: ______ Magazine Price: ______

Cover: “Untitled” photographed by Melissa Noble

Published 2020

Table of Contents Poems

Quarantine 1...........................................................................................................................................1 Beach..........................................................................................................................................................1

New Day....................................................................................................................................................1

My Life......................................................................................................................................................2 Phanrasmagoria....................................................................................................................................3

New Year..................................................................................................................................................4 Running....................................................................................................................................................4 Vase............................................................................................................................................................4 Untitled....................................................................................................................................................5 Poem..........................................................................................................................................................5 Candle.......................................................................................................................................................5

Deep Underground..............................................................................................................................6 Rosaline....................................................................................................................................................7 Judas..........................................................................................................................................................8

Spring Season........................................................................................................................................9

Just Like My Father Did...................................................................................................................9 Shadow...................................................................................................................................................10

Cooking with My Fantastic Family.............................................................................................11

Tower of Babel......................................................................................................................................12

They Probably Think Many Things.............................................................................................13

Say His Name: An Ode to Mubarak Soulemane.................................................................15 Rose..........................................................................................................................................................16 Rain...........................................................................................................................................................16 Apple........................................................................................................................................................16 Tree............................................................................................................................................................17

The Meaning of My Name............................................................................................................18 Tuna..........................................................................................................................................................19

Robert Warren: Behind the Mask.............................................................................................19

Special Feature: Women of Woodland

Loren Luddy..........................................................................................................................................23 Dr. Dana Mulligan..............................................................................................................................24

Jill Spiwak.............................................................................................................................................25 Mary Pelkey..........................................................................................................................................26 Camille Terrell....................................................................................................................................27 Maddy Vallillo......................................................................................................................................28 Sofia DiPiro..........................................................................................................................................29

Short Stories

Frenemies.............................................................................................................................................33

Burgeoning Concord.........................................................................................................................37

Hundreds of White Doves.............................................................................................................41

Creative Non-Fiction Stories

Surviving Cancer.................................................................................................................................45 Between the Pages...........................................................................................................................51

Step One................................................................................................................................................53

One-Act Plays

POEMS

Quarantine 1 Caroline Osborn Anapestic Quatrain

Breaking free from the Chains of frost, mother calls For the birds, grass, and falls.

I watch through the panes.

Beach

Nora Ameti Tanka

The golden sun sets, It reflects on blue waves, The gentle wind blows, Golden sand touches my toes, As I enjoy the moment.

My Life

Abigail Pepin Persona Poem

Abigail Creative, helpful, trusting, and passionate Daughter of Jennifer Who loves creating, baking, and cooking Who is afraid of snakes, spiders, and heights Who wants to see Paris, Utah, and Michigan Resident of the World ...Pepin THE WORLD TRAVELLING WOMAN Heidi Outgoing, caring, fashionable, and creative Daughter of Erna Who loves fashion design, travelling, and judging America’s Got Talent Who is afraid of bankruptcy, snakes, and lizards Who wants to see Paris, Italy, and Bora Bora Resident of Germany ...Klum.

New Day Nora Ameti Haiku

The sun says “hello”, People wake up from the night, It’s a brand new day.

1

Riley

2

K

“DSC” amera ane/C

Phanrasmagoria

New Year

Robert Hansen Slant Rondeau

Nora Ameti Haiku

On strange tides of stranger weather, Ark unshackled of its tether, Arc so clear from ocean’s peak, I dread her hellish drop beneath, Cognisant of Terra’s pressure.

A Falling Twinkle, Promising New Adventures, It is a New Year.

Petrified in any measure, Am I true? Yet was I never?

My mind consumed, I shift and shriek, Phantasmagoria.

Running Nora Ameti Free Verse

Soul and mind detached and severed, Ebbs and flows of now and never, Sweep across this land antique, Profound forces, perverse mystique, Alone, adrift, yet somehow centered, Phantasmagoria.

One step, two step, Breathe in, Three step, fourth step, Breathe out, Five step, six step, Don’t stop now, Seven step, eight step, Never give up.

Vase

d” “Untitle ra e n/Cam Unknow Gianna

Costan “Purple” zo/Cam era

3

Nora Ameti Limerick

When the child broke his mom’s vase, He tried to put it back in place, He got out his glue, To make it look new, Then quickly ran off just in case.

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Untitled

Emma Redd Anapestic Quatrain Antique in the bottle, On a bookshelf so aged, In it has a novel, Looking a little caged.

Poem

Nora Ameti Free Verse

What is a poem?

Is this a poem?

How can one know what is or is not a poem?

Is a poem just a bunch of words?

Does a poem need to rhyme?

Does a poem need to be pretty?

Does a poem need to mean something?

What needs to be in a poem to be in a poem?

What is a poem?

Deep Underground Charli Hughes Free Verse

and i can only hope that you don’t let your sadness become you, that it doesn’t absorb all the good, like an aquifer deep underground, buried under layer upon layer of rock, full of goodness, yet so unreachable, i hope you have more days where people are brave enough to excavate deep down into your core…. i hope you have more days when you fall in love with what it means to be you, melancholy aside, i hope more people around you reach deep down and reveal the oasis inside you; the only thing leaving you feeling full and satisfied in a time of insatiable, all-consuming thirst. and if you let me, i’ll be that person. i promise. i promise.

Candle

Nora Ameti Haiku

A single candle, It is the only light source, The light gives us hope.

5

“Teal a nd Jerimia Purple” h/Cam era

6

Hele

h” “Jellyfis ra e e/Cam n Mead

Rosaline

Caroline Osborn Free Verse

He called to her from the garden They met up on her balcony And lay down on their backs to watch the stars He told her he would always be there, and she believed him He reached out for her hand, But she held her own.

He asked her to a ball And they swayed in the hallway He stepped on her toes, but brought her ice Loud, lavish cherubs fired from their perches She deflected the first strike, But gave in to the next and enjoyed the pain.

He asked her if it was okay If he danced in the ballroom with someone else, And someone else, and someone else Her blood spilled out of the wound as she observed, And refused gause offered by suitors She insisted she would heal.

Judas

Axel Mitchell Free Verse

I’m a sinner, man I’m the Sinnerman Just gotta keep things simple, man Gotta catch hold of my feelings Gotta reel ‘em in But why pray to God If I’m not ever gonna be real with Him?

in the Upper Room.

I’m no fool.

Yeah, I know what to do.

I can not wait For my Delivery Of my silver piece No man is too good to betray I kissed him on the cheek They all look to me I don’t know what to say I had them thinking we were thick as thieves But that’s for another day I guess I’ll be at ease When He rests in peace For now, all I can say is “amen”.

Sure, I’d show Mary to the inn Heal the wounded, Samaritan I know how to manipulate and I ain’t scared of Him. I’ll take care of the dinner plan

He asked her if she was sixteen yet The details of her slipped his mind with every passing day She gave him a nod and nothing more And she was thankful, For even though her heart was broken, Her life was spared.

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Purple” “Teal and era R.J./Cam

8

Shadow Spring Season Nora Ameti Free Verse

The sun shines through the clouds, The flowers bloom all around, The deer eat the grass off of the ground, The spring season has been found.

Just Like My Father Did Axel Mitchell Free Verse

I want kids and I want them to be proud of me As a dad, I’d need to stand solidly My children won’t grow up like I had: I’d grown up fatherless He acted cowardly I am not him, ‘cause I keep my promises Otherwise, I would feel powerless.

I wouldn’t know how to get out of it If I grew up to act just like my father did.

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Axel Mitchell Free Verse

I’m just a shadow I’m a ghost My name, nobody knows My face, they see in mirrors but they can’t see up close I like to change my clothes And the mask I wear to match They frame pictures, throw a rose Casket closed, but grief can’t bring me back, though I’m just a shadow I’m a ghost I can’t do no harm Whether I’m reminding you of sins or of the right to bear arms.

What’s my name, you ask?

Call me Stephen Paddock Call me Crusius, Patrick Last name Lanza, first name Adam Call me Trayvon Martin Tamir Rice or Philando Castile What’s my name?

Whatever hurts you the most But I’m just a shadow I’m a ghost I might be a villain I could be a victim I may be the second amendment NRA, or the overpopulated prisons.

Maybe the skewed judicial system or its judge that freed Zimmerman.

I’m just a shadow.

I’m a ghost.

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Cooking with my Fantastic Family Abigail Pepin Where I Am From

I am from an oven, from General Electric and electrical burners I am from the comfortable, homey, and delicious smelling food cooking in the kitchen I am from the avocado and the broccoli I am from cooking and gratitude from Jennifer and Christopher and Hogrefe I am from the messes in the kitchen and making too much food From “eat more vegetables” and “eat everything on your plate if you want dessert” I’m from Waterbury and Italy, overnight french toast and chicken bean soup I am from my mom’s computer and scrapbooks with pictures of my brother and I when we were younger, the fun memories of vacations and trips, to the pictures of those who are no longer with us today.

Tower of Babel Axel Mitchell Free Verse

First, listen.

In our minds and in our hearts On our hearts and on the news We mourn all that we have lost And yet there’s always more to lose However It’s not just one thing that injures humans Sure, there are cuts, wounds, and bruises But also scarring in our hearts And in our souls there lay contusions Meanwhile We speak in tongues and with confusion We face the light, we sing to music But the path to restoration Can not be built with any blueprint Nor can it Be tracked with any map.

To understand, we must attempt to start To listen, not just speak, in the language of our souls and hearts (The arts might be the interpreters But so much is lost in translation Under the Tower of Babel, we must unite The 12 tribes of Israel’s nation.)

ple” d Pur ra n a l a “Te ame mb/C a L r e Tyl

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I wonder Are the TV screens thinly-veiled screams?

They’re only a few letters apart Maybe it’s a cry for help, as fear is keen on silencing the heart.

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They Probably Think Many Things Axel Mitchell What My Name Means

Mom thinks my name means confused or hurt.

She prefers Annika but I know she loves me Gram thinks it means compassionate. Thinks I’m still naive, sure, but I know she trusts me.

And it’s okay.

‘Cause Ena called me just yesterday; she thinks it means mature.

She said she always loves it when I call and talk to her Dashawn’s my little brother, he just started calling me Axel.

He likes to call me lame, says my name means awkward.

Janessa’s not yet two so she still has words to learn but whatever she calls me first I hope it’s important to her.

Teachers will call out “Mitchell.” I think they think my name means “that student to call on when nobody’s hands are raised,” or so it seems.

Peers call me “Ax,” or “Axy,” or “Tire,” They probably think many things, I guess.

The father of my sister probably thinks my name means “brat,” or

maybe spoiled, it doesn’t matter, He doesn’t know me like all that.

And other students at my school who aren’t close enough to be called friends They know it’s Axel but still, they try to insist To place “Nick” in front of my Name, when there’s nothing in front of it.

And they all think my name means something.

They probably think many things, I guess.

Sometimes I don’t think I want to know them all And it’s not like I can tell them they’re wrong.

It’s true: I am naive, and I am a little awkward.

And I am a teacher’s pet: if I’m called on, I’ll probably feel honored.

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I just don’t think they know what my name means to anyone but themselves, because My name means not just “musically inclined,” but also “that weird kid who writes music staves next to his poetry.”

It means not just “someone who goes to Pride,” but also “that queer kid who fights for equality.”

I just wish they knew that my name means “warrior,” Even though I’m non-confrontational.

That it means “a quiet passion,” too.

If only they knew That it means “an ambitious idealist” but also “a struggling student.”

That it literally means “father of peace,” trust me, I looked it up on Google.

I just don’t think they know what my name means to anyone but themselves, And certainly not what it means to me.

Eliana

“Teal” Cambr a/Cam era ” Part 2 “Teal mera bra/Ca a Cam

Elian

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Say His Name: An Ode to Mubarak Soulemane Axel Mitchell Free Verse

Our screens are covered with protests on T.V. and live footage.

The comment sections are just flooded with R.I.P.s And yet headlines read: “Black teen fatally shot.”

But his name was not Black Teen.

He was only nineteen.

His family called him Mubi but this name: it’ll be remembered not.

For it was impatiently engraved on his stone, and it’ll forever read Mubarak Soulemane June 24, 2000 January 15, 2020 Mubarak, May Allah embrace you May He welcome you and may He shine His light on you as much as passionately as unwaveringly and as undoubtedly as you will be missed.

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Rose

Nora Ameti Free Verse

A Rose A lovely Flower Smelling its lovely sent A lovely gift given to me My love.

Rain

Nora Ameti Free Verse

From high in the sky, Falls drops water, Landing on the earth, Helping it keep its water, Landing on the flora and fauna, Helping them grow, Landing on the humans, Watching the droplets race to the ground.

Apple

Nora Ameti Free Verse

That bright red fruit I see Shining on a branch Blowing in the crisp autumn wind With a single green leaf attached to its stem I detach it from its stem.

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The Meaning of my Name Abigail Pepin What my Name Means

Tree

Nora Ameti Free Verse

At first it was only a seed, And now its as tall as can be, Reaching way up in to the sky, Growing as tall as the birds can fly, With thousands of pretty leaves, With as many acorns for squirrels to feed, What started out as only a seed, It is now a beautiful tree.

Autym

“Sunse Dahlm t Colors” an/Cam era

Autym

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ey” “Hockn ra e m a an/C Dahlm

My mom thinks that my name means “My favorite daughter that spends too much time with me.”

My dad thinks that my name means “Never enjoys visiting with me.”

My Nonni thinks that my name means “Loves to cook and bake with me.”

My Grandpa thinks that my name means “Person that is willing to have an informative conversation with me.”

My Meme thinks that my name means “My favorite granddaughter.”

John thinks that my name means “Likes to talk about food with me.”

My brother thinks that my name means “Annoyance of an older sister.”

Mrs.Geary thinks that my name means “The ‘sweet’ one that always gets me kind gifts” Mr.Amato thinks that my name means “The ‘quiet’ one in advisory” Mrs.Muharem thinks that my name means “The one who always gets good grades on vocabulary quizzes.”

Ms.Richardson thinks that my name means “The one that has gotten better at math in the past three years.”

I think There is some stuff that they left out, such as “ Dreams of having a happy family one day” and “does not want to wake up in the morning, have amazing dreams” and “Worrying if I completed all of my homework” and “Enjoys nothing more than sitting on my bed playing my computer And listen to the fan.”

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Tuna

Nora Ameti Limerick

The kitten who saw the fresh tuna, He ran as fast as a young puma, He wanted that fish, ‘Twas his favorite dish, Then he thought what a great fortuna.

Robert Warren: Behind the Mask Robert Warren What My Name Means

My mother thinks my name means “Focus more on your schoolwork and clean your sour-smelling room.”

My father thinks my name means “Needs to help in the yard more.”

My guidance counselor thinks my name means “Should get started on your college applications.”

My pediatrician thinks my name means “Stay off those video games.”

My orthodontist thinks my name means “Have to keep wearing your retainer each night.”

My grandfather thinks my name means “Have all the mouthwatering, bittersweet chocolate you want.”

ses” s a l g n “Su era m a C / Colon n a d y “A

I think There’s some stuff they left out, like “Hopes for a bright future with lots of money.”

“Loves to relax and listen to music” and “Will keep pursuing my dreams no matter the cost.”

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WOMEN OF WOODLAND

Woodland Worldwide

Facebook: @woodlandforwomenworldwide Twitter: @W4Wworldwide Instagram: @woodlandworldwide

Jenna Ve

Loren Lud dy rs. Lengye l/Camera

lez and M

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lligan u M a Dr. Dan y/Camera art i r o M d Carly

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“Oppo rtu not lo nities are st taken . They are by som e else.” one - Anon ymous

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24

elkey P y r a M era m a C / o stanz o C a s i Cal

Giulianna P

Jill Spiwak inevich and Raven Crow ley/ Camera

are s t o o r e h “When t is no e r e h t , deep ar the e f o t n o reas wind.” ous m y n o n A -

“Just l ove.”

- Mary Pelkey

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Camille Ter rell er and Meg han O’Donn ell/ Camera

Karli Butch

e and l b o N a

Meliss

allillo V y d d Ma mera a C / s o ly Rind

Emi

“I wish t way to here was a know you’re in the ‘ good o days’, ld before y actual ly left ou’ve them. ” - Ed H elms

y, no a d y r e v “E face, I t a h w matter love d n a e l i I can sm others.” axton P a r u a L 27

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Sofia DiPiro bra and Bro oke Beard/ Camera

Eliana Cam

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SHORT STORIES

Frenemies Emily Laput Short Story

Amanda stares out her classroom window, daydreaming about the good ole’ days when she was young and carefree. She misses when she wore mismatched outfits and people awed at her. She misses the days when she stuffed as many marshmallows that she could into her mouth and smearing chocolate across her face. She longs for the times when she didn’t know what calories and waist trainers were. Now, numbers are valued more than feelings and she believes that wearing makeup would let her be accepted. She despises the fact that friends compete with one another for the highest grades, nicest hair, and hottest boyfriend. ***

Amanda breathes, then says, “We should get a headstart on homework.”

Amanda nervously bites the nail on her thumb as she plops down into the swivel chair at her desk. Her folder sits in front of her, looking like an overstuffed ravioli. Her hand shakes ever so slightly as she pulls out her math packet.

She cringes as she stares at the first question.

“Oof! Radicals, you stink at those,” taunts Agnes.

“Yeah, thanks. They’re really hard...I can do this,” Amanda reassures herself.

Agnes places her left hand on the top of Amanda’s chair and puts her other hand down onto the desk. Amanda recoils, making herself smaller. She starts to scribble some numbers onto the paper, but Agnes sighs at a deafening volume.

Amanda jumps, “What!”

“Oh, nothing. You’re just doing it completely wrong,” criticizes Agnes as she stares at the blank, white ceiling.

Amanda faces Agnes and nervously laughs, trying to brush it off. ***

As Amanda is wavering between two outfits, Agnes is shaking her head in judgment.

“Agnes, I can’t decide. I like both the blue romper and the knit sweater for the restaurant,” Amanda shared.

Agnes shifts in her chair and studies Amanda up and down.

“To be honest with you, I wouldn’t wear either,” Agnes states matter-of-factly.

“I mean, it is not like we are even going to a fancy restaurant.”

“Yeah, but both outfits make you look chunky. It’s best if you just wear a hoodie,” replies Agnes.

33

Amanda returned both outfits to her metallic clothing rack.

She kept her gaze down as she adjusted her hoodie in the mirror. She agreed with Agnes. She didn’t realize how big her stomach was and how wide her hips extended. Amanda subtly squeezed her arm flab on her right arm and tugged her sleeve down.

She was so happy to have such a good friend. ***

Jean’s Restaurant is a restaurant that has been around Denver ever since the 1980s. The plaid carpets and leather booths make the restaurant look like it is trapped in time.

Amanda slides into Booth 28 and Agnes slips in next to her. Amanda’s mom, Mrs. Huff, slips on her reading glasses as she squints at the menu.

“Goodness, everything looks so good!” exclaims Mrs. Huff.

“Yeah,” Amanda shares. “I’m so hungry that I could eat anything. Well, everything except for the pork liver. Yuck!”

They nod in agreement. Soon after, a perky, blonde waitress asks them if they are ready to order.

Mrs. Huff orders mozzarella sticks as an appetizer and asks for a chicken poppyseed salad. Amanda orders her beloved dish, fettuccine alfredo, but the look of disappointment on Agnes’s face makes her question her decision.

Later, the steamy platter of pasta is situated in front of Amanda by their waitress.

She licks her lips and her brown eyes grow as wide as quarters.

She gazes down at her stomach and recalls from earlier that day when she was picking out her “Teal a nd Pu outfit.

Brooke Beard/C rple” amera

Amanda barely eats her bowl and locks eye contact with Agnes, “I’m full.”

Agnes nods, “Good job.”

Amanda tries to sneakily get a to-go container so that she can eat the rest of the dish when she gets home. Agnes catches her and makes a mental note.

Amanda knows that Agnes noticed because Agnes pursed her lips. ***

Back at home, the girls are lying on their stomachs on Amanda’s twin-size bed.

“So, do you want to play Truth or Dare?” asks Agnes.

34

Amanda shakes out of her trance and solemnly replies, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Okay, truth or dare?”

Amanda picks “truth” and Agnes asks her if she has ever lied to a teacher.

Amanda responds with “no.” Amanda then asks Agnes if she wants either “truth” or “dare” and the game continues.

Half an hour later, Amanda picks “truth” and Agnes asks her who her crush is.

“Okay, don’t laugh. I like Tommy,” squeaks Amanda with a smile.

Agnes cackles, “What? Tommy? Girl, you need to lower your standards. No guy like that would ever date someone like you.”

Amanda looks disgusted. “But I like him!”

Amanda crosses her arms.

“Seriously, Agnes? You’re rude to me all the time. I am starting to question how we are even friends. No one in school even knows who you are.”

“Whatever. I’m going to bed,” scoffs Agnes as she throws her head onto a fluffy pillow.

“Fine! Good night.” ***

Beep-beep! Beep-beep!-the alarm clock blares. Amanda turns over and groans. The sunlight that pours in through her window blinds her. She shuffles over to her clothing rack.

“Hmmm,” contemplates Amanda.

Slot machine sounds go off in her brain when she eyes the blue romper.

Amanda steps into the romper and adjusts the straps. She strikes some model poses as she admires herself in the mirror.

“Oooh! Who are you?” chuckles Amanda. “Oh, me? I am Amanda Huff, a model in the making. You are so pretty. Stop it! Well, I guess I am. See, Agnes? This looks nice on me.”

Amanda turns around, “Right, A-”

She notices that Agnes is not in her bed. Amanda exhales a sigh of relief.

After Amanda finishes getting ready, she treks to the bus stop with some pep in her step. She shyly waves to Tommy who winks at her.

Suddenly, reality slaps her in the face when she sees Agnes there, too.

The bus squeaks to a halt while a puff of exhaust comes out from the back of the bus. Amanda sits down in the third row and Agnes sits next to her with a devilish grin.

“I see that you’re wearing that romper.”

Amanda plugs her earbuds in to tune out her nitpicking friend.

“I told you that you shouldn’t wear that, but you didn’t listen to me.”

Amanda unplugs one of her earbuds, turns to face Agnes, and shares, “You’re toxic.” ***

In chemistry class, Amanda is sitting at her desk tapping her finger as she gazes out the window. The sun shines against her face and the cloudless sky is a bayberry blue.

She thinks her teacher is talking about chemical bonding, but she is more focused on figuring out why Agnes isn’t in class.

Ever since Amanda told Agnes how she felt on the bus, Agnes has given her the silent treatment. She understands why Agnes would feel that way, but she can’t put her finger on why she is happy that her best friend is ignoring her.

“She’s bad for you, Amanda. That’s why you’re happy. Now, you don’t have to worry about her negativity. Yeah, but she is your friend. Friends stay together. No, Amanda! She is your frenemy!” argues Amanda’s thoughts. ***

As the days went on, Amanda saw Agnes here and there, but their time together was brief. Amanda walked with her head higher and saw a beautiful girl when she looked in the mirror. Agnes, who was her negative thoughts, was mostly silenced. Even though she could never live a life Agnes-free, she was able to be Amanda and was proud of that.

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36

“Untitled” ier/Camera Mikayla Poir

“Untitled ” audate/C amera

Hunter L

The world is filled with hate. Every aspect of a person is ridiculed, from their gender to their weight to their skin color. It has been decades since the last World War. When I had my beautiful son, I wanted him to be born into a society where people loved one another, but I was wrong. My dear Johnny is different, though. He sees people for who they are.

Two days ago, for instance, we were walking home from school and passed a homeless, African-American man. Johnny walked up to him and gave him a flower that he grew in science class. The man was so grateful.

I asked Johnny why he did that and he responded with, “Why wouldn’t I do that?”

“Johnny, he’s black.”

“I don’t see a difference.”

The world and I have some work to do. Ever since my husband, Mike, died when Johnny was born, I made it my mission to give my son a wonderful life and support him through whatever he does. ***

I watched Johnny sitting on the doctor’s table nervously swinging his legs off the edge. With every anxious shift, the paper crinkled beneath him. I placed my hand gently onto his leg and tried to reassure him that it will be okay.

Dr. Geil, the ancient and Italian man that he is, entered the room with an extravagant hand gesture, “Hey, Johnny!”

All of the tensity that was held inside Johnny was immediately released, “Hey, Doc!”

“Alright, everything looks great. You grew an inch. Woohoo! Your heart rate is perfect. All I have to do is take your blood and I can send you on your way.” Dr. Geil smiled.

Dr. Geil returned with a sterile, stainless steel tray. As Dr. Geil began his blood draw, Johnny was squeezing my hand so hard that it grew numb. I probably was feeling as much pain as Johnny.

Dr. Geil took his tray back to his desk and ran a few tests. He stared at his screen for a long time. He was speechless for once.

“Is everything okay, Dr. Geil?” I asked.

“Uh, uh. Yeah. Johnny, you have elevated levels of B12. This is an indicator of a highly rare disease called ‘visio equitis’. This means that you literally see no differences in people’s appearance. This is ad ogni morte di papa (once in a blue moon). You’re the only person to ever get this disease.”

“Whoa! That’s so cool!”

“Um...he’s the only case?” I asked.

“Yes, the disease has been common in dogs and mice, so the medical industry knows about it. Johnny, my man, is the only human case.”

“Does this mean that I am related to dogs?”

“No, sweetie. Your dad and I are your parents. You’re allergic to dogs, anyway.”

I ruffled his hair. ***

I couldn’t stop thinking about Johnny’s disease. How was that possible? This explains a lot of things, but still: this is crazy.

Johnny turned the TV on and channel 3 was playing. It must have been from last night when I was watching my favorite soap opera.

“Johnny, turn that off. You know my rules about watching TV during meals.”

I poured Johnny’s cheerios into a ceramic, blue bowl when Lisa Matthews, a young news reporter, appeared on the TV with Dr. Geil. I was stunned and didn’t notice the cheerios spilling over the edge of the bowl.

“That’s Dr. Geil!”

I couldn’t respond. I was shocked.

“Yeah, he has something called ‘visio equitis’.” Dr. Geil stated.

“Mmhmm. I see. He may be the cure to all discrimination.” Lisa Matthews declared.

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” “Untitled ra o/Came nnirubert

“Teal and Purp le” Katelyn Yoxa ll/Camera

Maille Ia

Burgeoning Concord Emily Laput Short Story

“Are they talking about me?” Johnny asked.

“Yeah.” I went over to Johnny and hugged him as tightly as he squeezed my hand in the doctor’s office. ***

My cellphone startled me when I was intently typing notes about my client. I picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Marissa. This is Dr. Geil’s office. Dr. Geil was wondering if you could come in at 3 PM for an appointment.”

I looked down at my rose gold watch. “It’s 2:30. I have another session with a client in 15 minutes. Can we do it tomorrow?”

“Dr. Geil is very adamant about this appointment. Is there any way that you could reschedule that session?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll try. See you soon.”

This better be important because I do not like canceling on clients. I gathered my belongings and closed up my office. ***

Dr. Geil was waiting at the office’s front door for us. He hurried us into his room.

“Johnny, Marissa, I hope you saw my interview on channel 3. Ever since then, I have been thinking. I did some research and I want to inject everyone with Johnny’s disease. He has O- blood, which means anyone can receive it. This is a sign that we must do this.”

Dr. Geil looked so excited about his idea, but then his face became glum.

“There is one issue, though...we need a lot of blood. The amount that we need is all of his blood. In order to do this... Johnny will die. I will let you think about this, but please think about how this would impact the world.”

Johnny absorbed all of this information. He looked down at the white tile floor for a very long time. I could tell he was trying to comprehend this.

I, too, was trying to do the same thing. Johnny is my son. At home, it is just him and I. I don’t want to lose him. I know I sound selfish, but I love him. He is all I have.

I hugged Johnny so close to my chest. His striking green eyes looked up at me.

“Mom, don’t be sad. I know what I am going to do.”

He released his grip. “You do?”

“I am going to donate my blood.”

He looked so confident in his answer. I winced and pulled him close to me again.

“Okay, we will perform the procedure tomorrow.” Dr. Geil told us.

I wailed. I couldn’t hold in the tears anymore. I knew he was going to say “yes”, but I hoped I was wrong. This doesn’t feel real. How could Johnny stay so calm? ***

I need to make his last 24 hours amazing. I canceled all of my appointments for the rest of today and tomorrow. Thankfully, my clients were understanding.

We first went to an ice cream shop, then we played with dogs at a park.

Johnny and I ran through the streets. I tried my best to keep a brave face on. Johnny is definitely stronger than me. We tried to ride skateboards, took silly selfies, and rode the ferris wheel at the carnival. I love my Johnny. I reminded him every minute. ***

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“Untitled” Unknown/C amera

“Thank you for coming in, Marissa.” Lisa Matthews said in a comforting way.

“You’re welcome.” I gulped.

I glanced behind me and watched the slideshow with pictures of Johnny behind me.

In my head, I pointed out each picture, “There’s the day he was born. There’s him walking for the first time. Oh, I loved his adorable, chunky thighs. There’s Johnny riding a bike and there’s him falling off the bike.

He never was good at cycling...There’s him sticking his tongue out and giving me bunny ears yesterday.”

That broke me. A tear fell from my eyes, then multiple followed behind.

At one moment, he was here and, the next, he is gone. It’s crazy how fast you can lose someone you love.

“If Johnny were here, what would he say?” Lisa

Matthews asked.

I had to take a moment to gather myself. “My Johnny is a beautiful boy. He always wanted people to be happy. I didn’t know about his condition until a week ago. I always thought he was accepting. It is sad that you need a disease to not discriminate. He made people feel loved. He would never hurt a fly. He was loved... so loved. If he was here, he would want you to get your injection.”

Hundreds of White Doves Caroline Osborn Short Story

Mistress Elizabeth’s bedroom was elegant. It had matching pinewood furniture and white linens. The simple adornments made the wallpaper a clear focal point. Its deep blue background could barely be seen amid the vines that wove their way to the ceiling with determination. Leaves sprouted across the walls, filling the sparse areas with movement. A flock of white doves were pinned to the painted forest. They all assumed the same position of outstretched wings and a skyward glance.

The sunlight that poured through the windows guided my attention to a vacant space on the wall. The pattern of birds was consistent throughout the whole room, but one was missing. Upon examination, I noticed another bird’s wing hanging off the wall. I ran my fingers over it and felt soft feathers. One of my black curls fell into my face as I studied the birds, and I brushed it away.

“Hurry up!” Mistress Elizabeth’s voice rang out from downstairs. I snapped back into focus and grabbed the book off of her nightstand. I marched through the door before turning around for one last look at the empty space. I had been in Mistress Elizabeth’s room many times, so I would have noticed something like this. It made no sense that the bird had just disappeared.

I stroked the cover of the book with my thumb. I felt the grooves where the title had been etched and gilded. I tilted the book forward and attempted to make sense of the large word on the front cover. “Bondage,” I whispered. I flipped to the first page and examined a lone sentence. “It all started when someone left the window open.” I moved my finger across every little word, feeling the smoothe ink under my fingertips. I gripped the book against my chest with one arm and proceeded toward the window near Mistress Elizabeth’s bureau. The skirt of my dress brushed against her radiator as I flipped the lock. I hoisted the bottom panel all the way up, then backed away. Warm spring air filled the room with anticipation, and her sheer curtains were elevated by an incoming breeze. I took a deep breath and paused for a moment. Once I felt satisfied with myself, I rushed back downstairs.

“Could you have taken any longer?” Mistress Elizabeth took her book and slapped the back of my hand. Her pale face wore a tight scowl.

“Sorry,” I said. She ignored my apology and flipped through the pages to find the piece of embroidered fabric she used to mark her place.

“Can you make me some tea?” she asked without looking up. “And don’t dawdle like you did getting my book.”

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I nodded and rushed into the kitchen. I had lit the wood stove earlier this morning to make eggs for breakfast, and it was still warm enough to boil tea. I fetched the kettle from the cupboard, brought it to the basin, and began filling it with water. I studied the view outside the window above the dry sink to pass the time. Young wildflowers swayed in the whistling breeze, filling the fields with expanses of pink, yellow, and white amongst the dewy grass. Puffy clouds hung in the afternoon sky, casting shadows over the woods.

On a spur of the moment, hundreds of white doves soared over the field toward the forest. On impulse, I dropped the kettle into the wash basin and hastened to the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Mistress Elizabeth shouted. I heard her get out of her chair and chase after me, but I refused to stop. I sprinted down the hallway and halted when I arrived at the doorframe of her bedroom.

“They’re gone,” I said out loud. The walls -- once covered with white doves -now were only adorned with vines. As I ambled further into the room, I heard Mistress Elizabeth enter behind me. I turned around to see her pursuing me with her hand raised. When she noticed the missing avifauna, she hesitated and brought her arm back to her side.

“Where are the birds?” she asked herself. Before I could concoct an answer, she began to walk toward the window that I left ajar. She ran a hand along the windowsill and stood idly for a moment. The breeze carried her thin hair behind her shoulders and blew the curtains further into the room. I stood behind her in silence.

“It all started when someone left the window open,” she recited. “He squeezed through and climbed down the side of the house until his feet met with the ground. Illinois was a two-day trip upstream, against the current. But he would make that trip a thousand times if, when it was over, he would be free.”

Mistress Elizabeth lifted her hand from the windowsill and turned to face me. I watched behind her as she walked over to her desk, pulled out a fountain pen and some paper, and scribbled meaningless circles and lines.

“Before my husband gets home, you must go to the house at the end of Winston Avenue. There should be a light on outside. Stay there for the night, and the woman that lives there will tell you where to go in the morning. This should help you find your way,” Mistress Elizabeth handed me the sheet of paper. Once I saw it the proper way, I could recognize the streets in our part of town. My hands shook as I folded the map and put it into my pocket. Mistress Elizabeth, who had tears trickling down her cheeks, put away her stationery and came around to the other side of the desk. She opened her arms and pulled me into a tight hug.

“Thank you so much, Mistress Elizabeth,” I said.

She replied, “Call me Liz.”

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CREATIVE NON-FICTION STORIES

Surviving Cancer

“I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me,” (Joshua Graham). When I was just one year old, I was diagnosed with Leukemia. I’m still fighting the aftermath, but I survived and I know that there are people who have it much worse than I do. The past few years have been difficult because I went through several major surgeries, but I had friends and family who were there for me and took care of me. This is my story of how I beat cancer and how it still affects me 15 years later.

In 2004 when I was only one year old, I went for my annual checkup. When the doctors took blood work they noticed something was wrong, but they didn’t know exactly what the issue was. After multiple tests, I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia (AML). Leukemia itself is a type of cancer that occurs in the bone marrow and produces immature or abnormal white blood cells. These cells fight off infections and diseases, so when they are abnormal, they don’t work properly and the body can’t fight infections. Sometimes the bone marrow’s ability to produce red blood cells is affected too. The type of Leukemia I had, AML, develops quickly and is very aggressive so it was important that I receive n” “Freshma n treatment fast. I was admitted to Connecticut e d P cil as/Colore n a C a m Em Children’s Medical Center almost immediately. I lived there for a few months while I underwent chemotherapy and radiation therapy, but then I was transferred to Boston Children’s Hospital for a bone marrow transplant. The transplant took place on December 17th, 2004. It was a miracle that I was even able to find a donor match.

Usually it’s very difficult, and sometimes even the best matches are rejected by the body. Luckily my older sister Avery was a match and donated bone marrow to me. As a joke, my family and I call my transplant anniversary my “second” birthday.

I finally came home in March 2005, but I wasn’t allowed to be around people other than my immediate family for about a year. Not because I was still

sick, but because my body was still recovering. The chemo and radiation killed almost all of my blood cells, so my body took in Avery’s bone marrow to start producing new, healthy cells. Being around new people or environments could have introduced bacteria or diseases that could affect this process, so it was necessary to stay where we knew I would be safe. It was a horrible situation to go through, but there were some benefits that came out of it. My mom had to quit her job to stay with me and take care of me, but she says she’s thankful that she had to do that because she was able to spend a lot more time with my sister and me. For a while I went for monthly check ups. After we knew I was completely cancer free, I only needed to go up to Boston for yearly checkups once a year. I was perfectly healthy.

This streak ended in middle school when a bunch of issues arose. Over the years my family and I have noticed that the treatment stunted my growth and I’m a lot smaller and shorter than the average for my age. It’s been difficult, but the treatment was necessary to keep me alive, so I’m grateful for it. When I was in 7th grade, my family noticed a lump on the side of my neck. I went to the doctor and she said that it was probably an enlarged lymph node, which happens sometimes when a person is sick and the body is trying to filter out the toxins. She told me there was nothing to worry about, but she still wanted to make an appointment with a doctor in Boston to have it checked out further because it was odd that a lymph node was swollen when I wasn’t sick. Later that night, the doctor called us and said that I needed to get blood work done to see why the lymph node was enlarged. When my mom told me, I immediately started to cry. I was scared. Not of getting blood work done, but that I could be sick again.

Over the next few weeks, I met with multiple doctors to try to figure out what was wrong. All of them believed it was a swollen lymph node like my other doctor did, but they didn’t know why it was swollen. I had multiple biopsies and ultrasounds taken, but the doctors still didn’t know why it was swollen. On March 4th, 2016, I had surgery to remove the lump. The recovery was easy because I didn’t have to stay in the hospital or take any medications, all I needed was rest. For a few weeks I couldn’t fully turn my head, but that was the worst of it. About a week after my surgery the test results came back and we found out that the lump wasn’t an enlarged lymph node, but rather a schwannoma tumor. This is a tumor that forms on or around nerves and could damage the nerve if it becomes too big.

Luckily, mine wasn’t big enough to cause any nerve damage.

While the chemotherapy and radiation helped me in many ways, it also came with disadvantages. Not only did the treatment stunt my growth, but it also caused major dental issues. Many of my teeth never fully developed, and a few never came in at all. The roots of my teeth were too weak to have braces or

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Carsyn Gilloren Autobiography

anything else that would normally help correct the issue. My orthodontist decided it would be best to get implants, which are fake teeth screwed into your jawbone, but they look and feel like normal teeth. The first step to this was to have several teeth removed as they were in the way and had nerves wrapped around them, causing more damage. On April 5th, 2018, I had surgery on my mouth where 5 teeth were removed, some bone grafting was done, and 3 small metal rods for implants were put in. The recovery was difficult because I could only eat soft foods for a while.

For as long as I could remember, I had cataracts in both eyes, which are like a foggy cloud in the lens of the eye. My cataracts were right in the center of my eyes, so when it was bright outside, my pupils would get smaller and I couldn’t see because the cataracts were completely in the way. They were starting to denser, which made it so that I could barely see at all in the sunlight. At the time, I didn’t know that my worsening vision was due to the density of my cataracts increasing. I talked to my eye doctor the next time I went, and she said that my poor vision was because of the cataracts, so I decided it was time to get at least one of them removed. In the beginning of June 2018, I had the cataract removed in my right eye. The recovery went well, but I didn’t get the results I was hoping for. In 95% of people, the surgery is successful and they have “Teal” no issues afterwards, but I was one of the 5% mera inevich/Ca of people whose eye heals incorrectly after Giuliana P surgery. A film developed around the artificial lense that was similar to wax paper, so it was still difficult to see. December 2019 I had the surgery done on my other eye, but the cataract was so dense that my doctor couldn’t remove all of it. I had a laser treatment on both eyes to remove the film in my right eye, and take the rest of the cataract out of my left eye. I’m happy to say that now, with a good glasses prescription, I can see better than I ever imagined.

When I had the surgery on my neck, we also found out about my thyroid problems. The thyroid is a gland in the neck that controls important parts of the body like temperature, hormones, and metabolism. There were multiple nodules, which are small solid or fluid filled lumps, on my thyroid. It wasn’t working correctly, so my thyroid hormone levels were slightly off. I didn’t have any serious symptoms, but sometimes I would get tired easily or be cold even when it was warm. It wasn’t bothering me in a severe way, so I didn’t have surgery to remove

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it. We kept an eye on it through an ultrasound and biopsy that I had every six months. Eventually, the nodules multiplied and grew in size, so my thyroid had to be taken out before the nodules became cancerous. On June 25th, 2018, I had my thyroid removed. This was the most difficult surgery because it required a long and difficult recovery. I stayed in the hospital overnight, and took meds several times a day. I slept almost all day after the surgery, and only woke up to go to the bathroom and take meds. I went home the day after, but I was still tired and sore.

I hadn’t realized how much I use my neck until after the surgery. Even just sitting up would irritate my neck and make it hurt. It was hard to get up because I had no energy from my body adjusting to the changes. My throat hurt when I ate and I couldn’t turn my neck much. After a few weeks, I was fully recovered and off of most of the medicines except for one. Because the thyroid controls important things like body temperature, hormone levels, and organ functions, I have to use medication to regulate these functions. The levothyroxine manages my thyroid level and hormones to make sure that my body functions properly. It took almost a year to find a dosage that made me feel good, and gave me the correct hormone levels. I’m still on this medication, and I always will be. It was a difficult time for me, but it made me realize that everything I had been through previously had prepared me for this surgery. Without prior experience, it would have been a lot more difficult. My next surgery was easier, but still a difficult recovery. This was the next step to getting my dental implants. One of the bone grafts “F re sh man” Laura Whis didn’t hold to my jaw bone, so my orthodontist keyman/Ch arcoal had to take it out and create a whole new one.

Unlike the other surgeries, I was awake for this procedure. It was long, which made it even more difficult because I was uncomfortable and was required to stay still for a long time. I had to be extra careful this time. I didn’t chew on that side of my mouth for months to ensure that it wouldn’t get messed up and that it would hold correctly, which was difficult because I always had to be super aware of it while I was eating. I had hoped to have at least some of the teeth implants by that Christmas, but that didn’t happen because the first bone graft failed and the second needed more time to heal. Eventually I did get all three of my implants and as weird as it felt, it was amazing.

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One of the biggest issues was that I had back surgery. There was a bump on the side of my back that we had been keeping an eye on for a little while, but it was increasing in size and began to bother me a lot, so in August 2019 I had it removed. I had to stay in the hospital for a night and it was difficult to get comfortable because my back hurt so much. It turns out that I had a rare type of tumor that usually doesn’t appear on your back. Luckily though, it wasn’t cancerous. I was expecting to stay in the hospital for a few days, but I was able to go home after one day. As part of the recovery process, I took short walks 3 times a day to exercise and stretch out the muscle, which helped it heal better. My family always came with me and it was summer so it wasn’t cold outside which made it easier. Now, 6 months later, I’m back and better than ever.

and the challenges it has let me learn from. Everything happens for a reason, and I believe the reason for all of this is to make me stronger and teach me that I can handle anything.

” “Recovered ra e m a /C h ana Pinevic

“Untitled” Faith Coga n/Camera

Giuli

The past few years were especially difficult, but so far this year has been a lot better. It’s been challenging but every surgery and procedure brought me one step closer to being healthy. I was very little when I had cancer, so I don’t remember all of it, almost as if it never happened. I may not be like other survivors who remember the ups and downs, but I am taking the stories my family has told me and the things I have gone through in the past three or four years, and making my own story with it. I want to share my story with other people not to make everyone feel sorry for me, but hopefully to inspire people and let everyone know that no matter how hard it gets, it will get better. As cliché as it sounds, it’s true. There were definitely times where I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t think any of the problems were ever going to end. I felt like I was never going to get past it and nothing was getting better because new problems just kept arising. I’ve realized that these are the kinds of things that make you stronger, not weaker. My battle with cancer itself might be over, but my story is not and never will be. I am not defined by my story but I am made stronger by the experiences it has given me

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ple” r u P d n “Teal a nown k n U / a i iGio haelin D

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Between the Pages Axel Mitchell Creative Nonfiction

Dear Mrs. Papa,

I remember getting tucked into bed, urging my grandmother to stay and read me a book that she’s read to me on so many previous nights. Whether it was Goodnight, Moon, The Eleventh Hour, or Click, Clack, Moo, night after night would entail a younger version of myself listening to the raspy voice of my grandmother, harsh but soothing.

“Gram,” I said one night, “Let me read this time!”

And after that, I read to her, or she would read to me, or maybe I would read to myself late when I was supposed to be asleep.

By the time I was in fourth grade, I had started writing in my free time along with beginning to find a new appreciation for my class assignments. My teacher Mr. Kean made writing less of a chore and more of an experience. Every week I would show up with another half-finished piece of writing that I typed at the library, and I started collecting dimes and quarters so I could pay for all the paper I was printing.

My love of reading didn’t cease even as my free time began to, however I have never stopped writing since. Sometime in middle school, I was introduced to the “hero’s journey”. I imagined myself as the main character, and I felt that through writing, I could become the hero of my own life journey.

It was at this point when I started writing poetry to combine my want to become a hero and my need to cope with emotional stress. Although my eighth grade writing teacher did little more than offer a compliment, at the time I acknowledged it as a turning point. Her validation meant I could become a writer, and all my other career goals and wishes like helping people and solving mysteries could be accomplished through writing.

Before high school began, I’d yet to realize the freedom I would be able to embrace in a creative writing class. Having multiple teachers specialized in English and a class I felt comfortable in, I was able to begin improving my work. With the help of peers as passionate as myself, I was able to eagerly anticipate sharing my work. Through some of the hardest struggles in my life, I was able to cope through my work. All of this would add up to my very deep sense of belonging in this classroom.

Sincerely, Axel Mitchell

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d” e l t i t n “U llage o C d n er a k r a M / n

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