LITERARY JOURNAL
Volume Fall
01
No.
01 20 18
The Written Works of Vine Academy Students
VINE ACADEMY
LITERARY JOURNAL
CREDITS
This journal is made possibly by the hard work and determination of the contributing Vine students as well as their writing teacher, Megan Alles. A special thanks to Amy Tripple for her publication design. Works contained in this journal are purely f ictional. Characters, incidents, and events are drawn from the contributers’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual people, incidents, or events is entirely coincidental.
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
CO N T E N T S
CO N T R I B U T E R S
CO N T R I B U T E R S
15 , 26
N AT H A N B J E L DA N E S
1 4, 40 Q U I N N K E M P E N A A R
Age Fifteen
A ge Eleven
9, 30
ALEX CASEY
2 7 , 42
N I N A P E T R AV I C I U S
Age Twelve
Age Eleven
28, 39
JILANI CHIHAK
0 5 , 2 9
S O F I A P R OV E N Z A N O
Age Fourteen
Age Eleven
10 , 37
HENRY HASSELMAN
2 1 , 30
C H A R L OT T E S C H U M A I E R
Age Twelve
Age Eleven
04, 46
Z AC H H U N G E R F O R D
0 2 , 2 2
MARK TRIPPLE
Age Thirteen
Age Eleven
18, 36
HOLDEN KEMPENAAR
12 , 32 DA R C I V OG E L
Age Sixteen
A ge Thirteen
“ I f th ere’s a book that you want to r e a d , but i t has n’t b e e n w ritte n yet, th en you mus t w rite it.” Toni Morrison
VINE LITERARY JOURNAL
“Finally, the humans left. Now, Rover could get back to work on his ultimate project...”
R OV E R T H E DOG Mark Tripple
F
inally, the humans left. Now, Rover could get back to work on his ultimate project. He knew that the cat, Howie, was a spy for the CATT (Cats Are Totally Tubular) Industry, which was where all house cats teamed up to take over humans’ love for dogs. He waited for Howie to take a nap, and covered him with a blanket. Then Rover could begin working. Rover jumped up onto the counter to get all the supplies he needed from the net gun to Howie’s stash of yarn. He started by laying some yarn on the f loor after tying it to the weight that he got from the garage. This would be the tripwire. Then he added pulleys, eight to hold the various different walls, and one laying on its side. The tripwire would trigger the walls to fall and create a room that was cat-escape proof. The main pulley attached to the net gun’s switch, which hung on one of the walls. Then the net gun would catch Howie. After hours and hours of waiting, he realized that Howie wouldn’t wake up. Was he doing it on purpose? Rover didn’t know, so he crawled up quietly and cautiously towards Howie. And touched him. Immediately Howie jumped up onto all fours and let out a piercing scream. Rover, having a dog’s ref lexes, jumped backwards and ran all around the house, Howie inches behind him. Rover thought he could trick Howie by suddenly turning around, but Howie just turned around as well. Rover made sure not to touch
the trap so he wouldn’t get caught by the net. But when he passed it for the nineteenth time, he slipped before he jumped, and hit the tripwire. Everything seemed in slow motion. He watched the walls fall over him, and through the cracks watched the Hot Wheels car speed down the orange track and f ly onto the switch of the net gun. Rover closed his eyes as he felt the mesh net hit him and pin him down. Rover could hear Howie laughing for f ive straight minutes while he tried to f igure out how to escape. Then Howie coughed up a hairball. Rover bit and clawed at the net. He tried running and shaking it off, but there wasn’t enough space. He tried eating the net and almost choked to death. Then he got an idea. He started biting off the weights on the net and, one by one, the net got lighter. Once he took off all of the weights, he could f inally escape! So when he shook off the net and jumped out, Howie jumped into Rover’s face and pushed him back into the trap. Rover planned for hours in the box and came up with a f inal strategy. He bit one string off of one of the walls and pushed it open to meet the cat. He jumped over the cat and closed him in. Rover won! Just then the humans came home...
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
PERFECT FOR THE JOB Zach Hungerford
I
f inished my trip in record time, about 15 minutes before my mom was coming to pick me up. I walked outside and waited for my mom. My ride, a gray minivan, pulled up to the curb where I was standing. “Hi honey, did you get everything I asked for?” my mom asked me. “Yea. I f inished 15 minutes early too.” As I said this, her face was replaced by static for a split second. I gave myself a mental note to get my glasses checked out. I stepped into the car and closed the door. On Roosevelt Street, she took a left instead of driving straight towards our home. “Where are we going” I asked her. Click. The doors locked. “Mom?” What’s going on? I asked worriedly as the car speed up. Even though we were on a small side street, the minivan had speed up to almost 100 miles an hour. The car was rattling. Fearing I was going to die, whether it be now or when we got to wherever we were going, I tried to grab my “mom”. As I did, a barrier appeared like the kind in a police van. We were going over 100mph, and suddenly, she took a hard left turn, throwing me out of my seat. We pulled into the driveway of a huge house concealed by trees. Nobody will look for me here, I thought worriedly. As the car came to a stop, the woman suddenly jumped out of the car. Thinking that the car was unlocked, I tried to get out the door, but somehow it was still locked. I started panicking. What was she going to do when she got back? Was she going to kill me? Why is this happening to me? I started banging on the door, sweat pouring down my back. Nothing was working. The door wouldn’t budge an inch. After making no progress after a few hours, the lady showed back up, but this time she was accompanied by two security guards wearing black shirts. It was then I realized, that the people who had kidnapped me where the same people who had been watching me. I knew that I was in trouble. As they walked towards the door, I realized my time was up, there was nothing I could do now. As they opened the door, I felt a hard thump on the back of my head, and I fell over...
THE FIRING Sof ia Provenzano
H
i, I’m Leonardo Steetes. Let me tell you about my favorite place in the world. Work. The smell of freshly printed paper, the sound of my boss yelling through the intercom, the keys on the computer going up and down, up and down. Ah, memories. My life was perfect until I heard those dreadful words come out of my boss’ mouth. “You’re f ired.” All of a sudden my world is turned upside down. And it’s all their fault. Well, I suppose I should tell you the whole story. It was Monday, August 20th, Take Your Child to Work Day. In my case take your children to work day. So I had no choice but to take my eight kids to my precious job. BIG MISTAKE! I wanted to just tell my boss that I didn’t have kids, but my wife insisted that I take them. Yep, that’s right, all eight of them. I wanted one kid, ONE KID! But my wife had octuplets! I didn’t even
know that was a thing until the doctor told me it was. They’re all f ive and they are monsters. So, once I f inally got them all in the car, I headed towards my job at The Corporate Off ice Of The Practice Of Law, also known as TCOOTPOL. I’m a lawyer there and I love my job. I can’t say the drive was pleasant. Zack (short for Zackaria) stuck gum in Tony’s (short for Antonio) hair. Then, Fred (short for Frederick) got in a f ight with James (short for Jameson) and punched him in the nose. And Mark and Xavy (short for Marcus and Xavier) threw Nick’s (short for Nickademus) shoe out the window. Anais sat quietly like she always does. When we arrived at TCOOTPOL, my shoelace got caught in the automatic door and that is when the chaos started...
“ A nd by the way, eve r ything i n li fe i s w ritab le ab out i f you h ave the outg oing guts to do it, and the i magi nation to imp rovis e .” Sylvia Plath
VINE LITERARY JOURNAL | 07
“‘It all started when the playground fell into the sinkhole.’ The old man had a faraway look in his eyes...”
S I N K H O L E S TO R Y , C H A P T E R 1 Alex Casey
A
group of children gather around an old man in the man’s living room. The children were saying,”Gramps! Tell us your story!” The old man sighs but agrees. He starts off like this: “It all started when the playground fell into the sinkhole.” The old man had a faraway look in his eyes. “I was twelve when the incident happened. It was a regular school day and I was walking home when a loud thump and a crash shocked me a little. I was only a few blocks away from school, about one or two. I turned around and a huge pit full of dirt and asphalt was growing and growing, and the playground, that only this morning I was playing on, cascaded down into the pit of black. I found a payphone, and I frantically pressed 911 and the receiver answered. I told her of the sinkhole and she asked what street I was on and I said, “ Jefferson Avenue.” As I was talking, a huge crack sounded and when I whirled around, a tree was falling in my direction. I dived out of the way just in time. I was unhurt, but the payphone booth wasn’t. “Ah, shucks,” I muttered. As I brushed myself off, I heard a scream pierce the air. A bunch of kids were toppling into the
gigantic, gaping hole! The ground beneath my feet started to decline and I stood there not knowing what to do. Should I save the kids or should I run? Suddenly, some boy my age ran straight towards me and was yelling, “Help! Help! There’s a sinkhole!” I closed my eyes and braced for the impact of somebody bodyslamming me, but nothing happened. Well, except for the ground rapidly cascading under my feet. “Here, I’ll pull you up,” a voice said. I opened my eyes and the boy was extending his hand. “O-okay, sure, Pull me up please.” I said. The boy hoisted me up and when I was on my feet, the boy said, “Follow me. I’ve got a bunker with snacks and other things.” “Sure.” I replied. Suddenly, the ground made a cracking sound and the kids started getting swallowed up in the huge pit. And zombies started pouring out of the hole. The boy looked at me and we were both thinking about one word. “Run.” We sprinted away from the gaping hole.
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TRUE BONDS OF FELLOWSHIP Henry Hasselmann
I
t was a rainy day, but we were still f ishing, out in the English Channel. We could just barely see the French side of the channel through the haze and fog. Ships sailed by, carrying cargo and tourists wanting to see the beaches of D-Day. “Boys, this reminds me of WWII. The rain, the boats, and the peace that you could sometimes luckily get.” Jordy said. “Only two years ago did that horrible war end. Unbelievable. And now we are gonna be going to the future.” Jelly said. “Yea! And we gonna be youtubers.” I said. “Y EA!!!” Josh said, as he reeled in a carp. “Nice, a third carp.” I said.
“It’s time,” said the voice of Lt. Nick Brutl. “Yes, Sir.” I said. “It’s time.” I said, and we reeled in our empty hooks, and rowed ashore. “Guys, I’m scared. What if it doesn’t work?” Jelly asked, in a small voice. We were standing in front of a blank white portal, the blank white dinner plate of our future lives, soon to be f illed up with fun adventures and videos, and our path to a new life in a new time period, and I put my arm around his shoulders, and said, “Jelly, it’ll be okay. As a friendship group, we will be alright. Arms on your neighbor’s shoulders, and let’s do this.” We laid our arms across each other’s shoulders, and we all started walking to the portal.
The radio buzzed. I turned it on and said, “Hello?”
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
The moment we touched the portal, my life f lashed before my eyes. Biking for the f irst time. WWII. D-Day. Our f ishing trip, and then came to this moment, and then I was pulled through the portal, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself with Jelly, Jordy, and Josh, and we were standing in the future, and everything was the same, except for one thing, everything was different, but nothing showed signs of distress, and we all smiled. My head hurt for a moment, as we received information of what happened over the years we skipped. We learned about things called cell phones, Ipads, new sports, video games, and other inventions of man. We looked up, and found a friend, according to our new memory. His name was Garrett. “Let’s go record some Minecraft videos.” he suggested. “Okay. You go ahead. We’ll catch up.” I said.
He nodded and started walking down the beach. The same beach we had stormed, the same beach where we risked our lives, the last beach taken, Omaha beach. The same beach we stormed on D-Day. “Well, there’s only one direction…” Jordy began. Then all together we said, “...Forward.”
“Over time, just as you will grow into adults, the land grew. Soon it covered the whole world...”
H OW WA S T H E W O R L D C R E AT E D Darci Vogel
F
irelight danced across the eager faces of the children as they huddled around the storyteller. As he tended to the campf ire, he began to tell the story.
The children shuddered, their minds all f illing with their own imagined versions of the monster. One asked in a voice that seemed to squeak, “What stopped it?”
“Long long ago, before you or I or anyone we have ever known, or even anyone who we have ever known has known, farther back in time before any of us can comprehend, there was nothing but a bit of ground, barely small enough to balance the head of a pin on.”
“The Great One, of course. The Great One, who we still worship as our savior, sprung from the Earth itself to avenge the destruction. There was a great struggle, the greatest f ight in history, but in the end, the Great One won. He carved the remains of the creature who had sought to destroy our world into the pieces that would make it whole. He cast up its skin into the empty space above to make the stars and the sky. Its great eyeballs became the sun and the moon. Different parts of its body became all manner of things. From its brain it created all the animals and from its heart it carved the earliest humans.”
The children leaned forward as the storyteller continued to spin his spell. “Over time, just as you will grow into adults, the land grew. Soon it covered the whole world. And in the middle of the land, that was all there was and all there had ever been, something new began to emerge. Out of the soil, grew a lake. The lake widened and grew into sprawling rivers and oceans and lakes. And, with all that water not soon after came the f irst lifeforms. But they were nothing like you and me of course. After all, this was hundreds of years ago.”
One of the eager listeners asked, “What happened after that?” The storyteller simply replied, “I’m afraid that’s not my place to tell you. Everything afterwards is history. You’ll have to ask the historian.”
One child burst out, “What were they?” The children sighed. The storyteller leaned in, taking time to look each child in the eyes. “If you listen, I’ll tell you. Thousands of trees and bushes and shrubs and grasses all began to grow. Some were like what we have today. Others were very different. The thing that came next came from another world, one far older than ours. It was a terrible beast, who destroyed the landscape, knocking down trees as easily as you would swat away a pesky mosquito.”
The storyteller hastily added, “But I can tell another story. Who wants to hear the tale of the f irst dragon?” Seven eager heads nodded. The storyteller began, “A hundred years ago on this very day, there was a large egg...”
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
V I N E L I T E R A R Y J O U R N A L | 1 3
K R AT H E N , T H E M O N S T E R Quinn Kempenaar
I
n our world lives a creature. Some people see this creature in different ways. Some call it a giant squid that people named “The Krathen”. Some people call it a demon that they named “Cthulhu” (Cu-thu-lu). While some see it as a tall pale white man that they named “Slenderman”. Only I know it’s true form though, so come with and you will see, the true beast, The Krathen. He lives
everywhere. He’s everything scary in this world. He goes in people’s minds, haunting them. You may think, “I’m not afraid of anything”, but that’s not true. The Krathen’s true form is too terrifying to comprehend. You will either die of terror, or go insane. He feeds off of people’s minds. He can turn happy memories to sad and scary. There is no escape from this beast except death. What is his true form? You might ask. Well he doesn’t have one. He’s not real.
N AT E I N A P I C K L E Nathan Bjeldanes
I
knew I was in a pickle this time, except that now I was the size of a pickle, (and smelled like vinegar). Someone once said, “Be careful what you wish for…” I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask for this, unless by some freak mistake they heard me say “I always wanted to have the life of a pickle” instead of “I always wanted to have a lifetime supply of pickles”. Anyways, I was stuck in a jar, with the stench of vinegar assaulting my nostrils, and worst of all… I had a green rash on my arm (probably from the vinegar). After hours of attempting to get the lid off, I decided I needed some rest. After a good night’s rest, (as good as sleeping in a glass jar full of vinegar could be) I noticed that the jar had been moved to some sort of dark room that was very cold and damp. Suddenly, a light turned on, and as I saw gargantuan grapes, colossal coleslaw, and oversized orange juice, I knew I must be in a refrigerator. The green rash had spread to my legs and
still smelled like vinegar. Well, everything smelled like vinegar in the jar. There was vinegar in my shoes and my clothes were soaked in vinegar to the point where they started to fall apart (much to my dismay). Luckily, I was close enough to the grapes to be able to grab bits of grape through a small hole I was able to keep open with my shoe. After a few days of this, I was covered in a green, bumpy, rash from the vinegar and had eaten at least half of the grapes in the fridge. I woke up one morning to f ind I had turned into a pickle! In the shock of this revelation, I did not notice the large hand grabbing the jar. As I turned around, I saw what I had least expected (besides becoming a pickle). It was myself grabbing the jar, opening the lid, pulling me out and eating me whole. I saw only darkness, and then I woke up with a fright next to an open fridge covered in half- eaten pickles, a bowl of grapes, and an empty jar. I had realized that I had been dreaming the whole time. But something was missing, more pickles.
V I N E L I T E R A R Y J O U R N A L | 1 5
“Don’t tel l me the moon is sh i ni ng; s how me the g lint of li gh t on b roke n glas s .” Anton Chekhov
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
WA I T I N G WA S TO R T U R E Holden Kempenaar
W
aiting was torture. The subject was just… sitting there. Doing nothing. Their face was blank, settled on a face of quiet optimism that contrasted starkly with their weary and shifty eyes. This was incredibly frustrating, because Specimen 311-A was in the observation chamber to see what he does when he is alone! It’s almost as if he knew he was being watched.
“You haven’t listened to the interview? Lucky you!” James said with a grin. He dragged a f ile on a computer screen and audio started playing.
“What’s wrong with this guy?” Emma whispered to James. “He’s been sitting there blankly for the past three hours! I don’t think he’s even blinked in the past f ive minutes! How did we even acquire him?”
“Is this your birth name”
“What is your name?” “4345 Wilkes S”
“Unknow.” “Does this mean you don’t know?”
“Well,” James responded matter-of-factly, “there was an incident over at Sector VII with a Vacuity portal, and he came f lying out in a panic. Ranting and raving in… you know how toddlers speak? It’s like that, we are still studying his speech patterns.” “That makes absolutely no sense, he’s a grown man, at least 30. Have we tried an interview?” Emma replied inquisitively.
“Ungoodspeakful speak. Oldspeak plusungoodspeak.” “Oldspeak? What is this?” “Oldspeak old speak. Ungoodthinkful speak, Party remake Oldspeak new, Newspeak.”
“Party? What party?”
watched.
“Party doubleplusgood watchful saver leaded by BB.”
“D-O-W-N-W-I-T-H-B-I-G-B-R-O-T-H-E-R”
“Who is BB?”
“Down with big brother? The heck does that mean?”
Big Brother Oldspeak. BB allwise watch. BB love goodpartymembers.
“I have to go down there and talk to him for myself, see what’s going on.” said James, rising and walking downstairs.
The conversation went on in similarly for a while before the interviewer left. Emma stared in disbelief at the f ile. “What in the world was that? He sounds like a toddler! Either he’s never received a proper education, has been brainwashed, or both!
The subject was shackled to his bench, unable to stand. As the door opened, a look appeared on the subject’s face that could only be described as sheer, unadulterated panic. He quickly started moving around vigorously in a futile attempt to escape, but stopped the moment he made eye contact with James.
The last two words caused a shiver up James’ spine. “Ha, yeah. The research is still coming in, we- hey, wait a minute. He’s doing something.”
He stayed perfectly still, staring intently.
“What’s he doing with his f inger?”
No response.
“Some kind of- drawing. Letters, maybe? His face hasn’t changed, is he subconsciously doing it?”
“Here, let me help you with those chains, so you can-”
The pair observed his repeated motions, drawing out letters on his leg with his f inger. Using the video feed, they found the point where he started looping and
“Hello there. Can we talk?”
The very second his chains were unlocked, his hand swung around with frightening speed to reveal a gun, which he promptly shot, killing James instantly.
A LITTLE TRIP Charlotte Schumeier
I
t occured to me that my mother was also...mmm... Athena! “Annabeth why am I here?” I asked. She stared at me. “You must be a demigod. A half-god, half-mortal” she answered as she observed me. “Follow me and I will help you choose a weapon,” Annabeth said calmly. Percy looked disappointed like I had interrupted something. Which I had not. Annabeth led me to a large little room sort of house.
“Chiron meet our newest camper,” Annabeth said proudly.
Inside was f illed with weapons and knick knacks. A small bronze ring gleamed and I walked towards its shelf in curiosity. Etched in the bronze was an owl with small rubies for its eyes.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“That ring used to belong to Athena but she gave it away to a camper decades ago. It hasn’t quite appealed to anyone yet,” Annabeth commented. “What does it do?” I asked. “Well, if you press its eyes, it turns into a spear made of celestial bronze, a type of metal made to kill monsters,” Annabeth stated. I pressed the rubies and before I knew it I was holding a spear with a rubies around the hand hold. I pressed one of the larger rubies and my ring was back. “Wow... I choose this one!” I proclaimed, beaming. “Alright then I guess I take you to Chiron. You met him once,” Annabeth responded. “Oh yeah I remember him,” I conf irmed. We walked up to a large blue house I recalled calling The Big House. As I entered a half-man, half-white stallion approached me. “Hello there...mmm...oh yes Alexa,” Chiron announced.
“I see...ahh Annabeth show her Camp Jupiter she may still want to go to school and a normal life to adjust,” Chiron commented. “Alright Chiron. Ready Alexa?” Annabeth answered.
We kept walking along a short trail until we got to a small door in the ground. Annabeth opened the door into a tunnel. “Wow, this is cool, and also creepy,” I commented, amazed by the sight. “Yep. This is the labyrinth. One of the main ways we get around here at camp,” Annabeth noted as we walked through a brick tunnel with a long line of bright red spray paint leading us along. “What’s the spray paint for Annabeth?” I asked pointing. “That leads us to New Rome where Camp Jupiter is. This place is an endless maze, without it we would get lost,” Annabeth replied. “Oh” I responded. After 15 minutes we arrived. We exited a small wet cave and entered a large city bustling with people. “Welcome to New Rome!” Annabeth said excitedly her grey eyes glimmering in the sunshine. “Wow,” I exclaimed. It was a huge city that went as far as you could see.
VINE LITERARY JOURNAL | 21
THE MANSION Mark Tripple
T
raveling through the rain The air is black, dark and grey I thought my eyes were being tricked
I couldn’t react. My heart had snapped. I thought that I would never breathe again.
There, directly in my face, The lightning struck with utter haste Behind what almost made me scream
I screamed and yelled. Am I in Hell? I had no idea what to do.
The mansion, there, Seemed like a lair To some crazy, monstrous beast
I turned around But then I found That the door had disappeared right there.
Should I go in? Should I run for it? I couldn’t make up my mind
I ran through the halls I felt mauled By the darkness surrounding my every inch.
I was tired, sad and wet Hang on. But just- I wish- And yetMy mind made up. I was going in.
I found a room. A dead wife and groom Were laying there quite helpless.
I knocked the door. I’ll die. I’m sure. I waited for someone to answer the door for me.
The next room I went, The walls seemed bent. Then I saw an ogre with a club.
No one there. I was scared. I pushed the door open through my trembles.
I closed the door, And, what’s more? A spider web taking up the hall.
It’s dark and hot and stuffy. The owner probably thinks it’s funny. I swallowed. Then I squeaked a small, “Hello?”
“Who’s there?” I heard it. I swear. I turned around to see a monstrous fright.
The echo traveled My throat was gravel I swear that there was no other sound there.
A bear with green Fur that looked mean. Holding a stick or ruler of some sort.
Eight legs just climbed Onto my hide. The creepy, ugly little beasts.
I ran through the web. Oh, gosh. I’m dead. I turned a corner and fell down on a slide.
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
I twisted, turned. My stomach churned. Ahead was a light, and I was free.
I screamed and ran. The halls were bland With nothing but red-violet on the walls.
I enjoyed the ride The makeshift slide. I turned around to see it made of bones.
Moved high and low, Jumped to and fro. The bear would not shake off no matter what.
I didn’t care. I was out of the lair. The sun was glowing bright onto my face.
“Mr. Bear,” “Are you real fur?” I watched as he politely shook his head.
I felt asleep So small, so weak. I didn’t care. I was going home.
Wait a sec, This doesn’t make sense. Then I let the bear hit me hard.
I ran to the forest. It needed more and Tons and tons and tons of different trees.
In my bed, I lay my head, Because this all was nothing but a dream.
I woke up then, In the mansion, again. The bear was only inches from my face.
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Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
“ Th e d i f fere nce b e twe e n the a l most ri gh t word and the right wo rd i s… th e dif fe re nce b e twe e n th e li ghtning b ug and th e lig htning.” Mark Twain
PA N C A K E S
Nate Bjeldenes
T
here were pancakes everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE. In the sink, on the counter, in the microwave, in the dishwasher, jammed inside the cabinets! As I stood in awe of the amount of breakfast food, a pancake fell off the ceiling and slapped me on my head. I realized at that moment that there were even more stuck to the ceiling. I opened the fridge and was buried under a stack of pancakes, and nearly suffocated under the mountain of food. I dusted myself off and tried to leave the room, but I was stopped by another mound
of pancakes blocking the door. Trying to call for help, I shouted as loud as I could, but the pancakes were too thick for anyone to hear. I pulled the f ire alarm in the hopes that the f ire department would help me out of the room or the sprinklers could at least make the pancakes soggy enough for the stacks to turn into mush, allowing me to open the door. The sprinklers went off, but instead of water, they sprayed syrup everywhere. At least the pancakes tasted better now.
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
YO U ’ V E B E E N U S I N G E N G L I S H W R O N G Nina Petravicius Introduction:
Exclamation Points!
English is one of the most diff icult languages to learn. Especially seeing as those who are born into it often can’t speak it correctly. Well, I’m going to make things simpler and more logical. Why, you ask? Because you’ve been using English wrong.
Okay, I’m just going to say, three is the maximum. I was raised to have a hatred of excessive exclamation points. Def initions
Section Three:
Nonplussed: (Of a person) Surprised and confused so much that they are unsure how to react
Words, Guidelines, and Rules
Unperturbed
No, I’m not explaining all the already existing rules or, god forbid, making my own, but instead telling you about which rules you need to follow and which rules to completely ignore.
These two def initions are exact opposites. Why? I’m legitimately asking here, because I have no clue. This is very egregious. Egregious: Outstandingly bad, shocking
The Oxford comma. Remarkably good Use it. I know this is a poster already, but look at this sentence without the Oxford comma: “My heroes are my parents, Superman and Wonder Woman.” I, personally, would love to be Wonder Woman and Superman’s daughter, but I’m not sure that’s what the writer is trying to say here. The “‘I’ before ‘E’ except after ‘C’” rule. There are 923 words that disobey that rule, and only 44 that actually follow it. Take these for example: Beige Neighbor Height Weight
I’m nonplussed to hear this def inition Rhymes Cough Rough Though Through Why do none of these rhyme, but, for some reason, pony rhymes with bologna? What is wrong with English? Why is it like this? Spelling and Pronunciation ‘Queue’ is just ‘Q’ followed by four silent letters Just thought I should mention that.
It’s not whelming. Not whelming at all.
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I F I CO U L D DO A N Y T H I N G Jilani Chihak
I
f I could create anything with unlimited materials, money, and time, I would essentially be a god. Being a god, I could potentially do one of four logical things.
Three, personally my favorite option, I could create my own
One, assuming that I am still on Earth and have just now
Four, I could become conquer planet Earth with ease,
become a god, I could become a sort of guardian or protector
potentially spread my empire out past the boundaries of our
of my planet, watching over it like a savior and solving
solar system and become an interstellar, no, intergalactic
multiple global crisis such as climate change, overpopulation,
dictator and create a legacy that could truly withstand the
and the 6th mass extinction.
test of time and no longer be an insignif icant spec on a blue
universe/world/ and my own race of living beings to have complete power over and truly become a god.
chunk of burning rocks f loating through the unfathomable Two, I could use my newfound powers to explore the universe
fabric of spacetime.
and expand my knowledge on both science, religion, and gain a new comprehension of reality itself.
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
T H E E M P T Y M A N S I O N , PA R T I Sof ia Provenzano
I
am in the mansion. It was a dare. Why did I do it? When I did it, I thought I was doomed, but there was a little boy clinging to my ankle. I’m glad he was there. I have to keep him alive. I should probably tell you why I need to keep him alive. In 1683, the queen had a mansion built for her in the 13 colonies. She lived in it with all of her servants and maids and cooks and guards. One day, the Black Plague spread around the colonies and killed all of the people in the palace until the queen was the last one alive. No one knows what happened to her but it was said to be worse than death. The king was said to be alive in the castle, but no one has ever found him. There has also said to be hidden
horrors in the castle. So that’s great. Anyway, ever since that day, if a person went in the mansion alone, they would get the same punishment as the queen. If two people went in the mansion, then they wouldn’t get the punishment, but they would be stuck inside the mansion until a third person came. If a third person came, then all of the people would be set free. You are probably thinking that I would automatically be set free because the king is in the mansion. Well, you are sadly mistaken because the three people have to make eye contact before they are set free. So now I’m in the
BLARG Alex Casey
T
here is a monster named Blargatuf isasafana or Blarg, for short. It is neither a male or female. It lives under people’s beds and is nocturnal. It sleeps until 5:00 p.m. and hunts wild rats and sometimes snakes. Its skin color is the darkness when you close your eyes, neither black nor white. It’s furry and you could hug it. It has wicked sharp teeth but is very kind. The rest of its kind has died away at the time of the Ice Age and it is lonely. Blarg’s only company is the little
dust bunnies that it magically enhances to make them alive. Blarg is extremely compassionate and cries when a dust bunny dies. It doesn’t get angry a lot because it has nothing to protect or attack except its prey but even about that, he gets somber. It does have a bad side. When you anger it, it goes on a rampage, destroying anything in its path. It mercilessly kills the dust bunnies but after a few minutes, it settles down and cries. The remaining dust bunnies comfort it and then
NEW ROME Charlotte Schumeier New Rome wrapped itself around the mountain and climbed the horizon. On the left of the city was some sort of camp with teens in armor and even kids around her age, twelve. “I will show you to Camp Jupiter,” Annabeth chimed walking towards the left. This was going to be my home. Camp Jupiter, New Rome. A girl with long dark hair wearing a purple armored tunic came up to Annabeth. “Reyna! This is my cousin Alexa, do you have a place to her? I think Camp Jupiter will be a better f it for her,” Annabeth said smiling. Next to Reyna were two metel dogs. One of the dogs was silver with two ruby eyes and the other was gold with one ruby eye and one emerald. Reyna eyed me with interest. “Alright should I introduce her to Piper?” Reyna asked while her dogs came closer. The gold dog with the emerald eye rubbed its head against my leg and I f linched. “Arum and Argentum heel,” Reyna called to the dogs and they obeyed. “I do think she would like Piper...ok” Annabeth replied. “Bye Alexa,” Annabeth said walking away. “Bye!” I yelled back. Reyna eyed me again.
“Alright Alexa come with me and I will bring you to a friends to stay.” Reyna led me to a small car. I climbed in and buckled and the car began moving. We drove past large Victorian houses and cramped apartments. The apartments reminded Alexa of her old house with her father and her step mother; just the three of them. The perfect family so she thought. She shook the thought out of her head. The car began to slow down at Iter Street. The car stopped and Reyna helped me out. In front of me was a small duplex. Four people sat on chairs on the white porch. A girl with brown hair braided with an eagle feather looked at me and Reyna. “Reyna!” There was another girl with dark skin and dark brown hair in tight curls. “Hey!” Reyna said smiling. “This is Annabeth’s cousin, Alexa,” Reyna said. “Hi Alexa I’m Piper and this is Hazel,” The girl with the brown braid gleamed. Two boys walked down the porch steps. One had blonde hair and sky blue eyes and the other was a buff Asian guy. “Hey Alexa my name’s is Jason and this is Frank,” the blonde boy said pointing to the Asian guy. Reyna whispered to Piper and she nodded. “I guess you will be staying with Jason and I on the left side of the duplex,” Piper declared. I stared at my feet...
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
it goes to sleep.
VINE LITERARY JOURNAL | 31
“Ever y body walks p as t a t hou sand stor y ide as eve r y day. Th e good w rite rs are the one s w h o see f i ve or s ix of the m. M ost people don’t s e e any.” Orson Scott
VINE LITERARY JOURNAL | 33
“Most of them wished they’d thought to muzzle the creature while it was still asleep...”
THE KING’S NEW PET Darci Vogel
T
he king had an aff inity for collecting dangerous creatures, and, while most of his advisors were thrilled by the power of the beasts his knights brought back to please him, even the bravest ones feared that maybe this time his obsession had gone too far. The metal cage took up almost the entire room. Inside the cage was a dragon. It’s red scales blazed with color. Its eyes, a blue that felt deep enough to fall into, had a shocking mixture of intelligence and anger. It was these eyes more than any of its other frightening qualities that warned you that if you came within striking range, it would make sure you could never threaten it again. For now, the creature was still under the effects of a sedative, but soon it would wake up. And when it did, its captors had better hope the cage they had built was strong enough to contain it. The cage had been moved into the king’s public arena which had f illed with hundreds of spectors eager to see the newly captured dragon. The arena buzzed with excited chatter as everyone waited for the dragon to wake. When it did, the awed crowd became completely silent. Even the smallest children were frozen to their seats in terror and amazement. The beast circled in its cage, lashing its tail at the bars and spewing jets of f ire at the knights standing outside. Most of them wished they’d thought to muzzle the creature while it was still asleep.
The dragon continued circling around it’s cage, but something about its demeanor had changed. It stopped spewing f ire and its eyes seemed to scan the length of each bar. Finally, it found what it was looking for and stopped. It backed up slowly and then forcefully rammed itself once, twice, and again at one spot of the cage. The third time, the cage shattered and the dragon charged out. If the crowd had been silent and still before, now it might as well have been made of statues. The whole crowd paled, their eyes locked on the dragon. For a tense moment the world seemed frozen, and then the dragon exploded into action. It turned with a terrifying deliberateness in a circle, spewing f ire twice as strong as before, and obliterated the guard of knights. The f ire was so strong that the skin of spectators in the f irst ten rows blistered. People in the next 30 rows got f irst degree burns that would last for weeks. Even the people in the last 60 rows became incredibly dehydrated. The dragon took off into the sky, its wing beats so powerful they knocked full grown men back into their seats, and burst through the arena’s glass ceiling, taking off into the sky. When the dragon was gone, the spectators slowly began to come back to life, but for around a minute no one made a sound. Then, the sound of a child crying echoed through the arena.
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
T H E B OO K O F S P E L L S Holden Kempenaar
T
he walls of the musty cavern bathed in the tongues of f ire sneaking along the trail. The traveler, Erin, had prepared for this moment for years. She could hardly control her breathing, both from her excitement and her slight allergies to whatever plant was creeping along the cavern walls. She approached the clearing with the widest grin on her face. Stumble. Crack. “Ow!” Erin turned to f ind her elder brother Jack scrambling to get up from the f loor. “What’s wrong with you, kid?” He scowled. “Come on, we’re almost there and I need clear evidence I found the Book of Spells, and I don’t want to sit on the edge of the f ield again!” “You’re in over your head, Sis.” Jack quipped as if he was a merchant bartering for a precious metal. But even he could not entirely hide the curiosity in his voice. Kick. Rumble. “Yes!” “You actually found it?” Jack said excitedly. “I knew it! I knew it was real! I’m going to do magic! I’m really gonna do it! I’m gonna be just like Susie and Tabby and Kim and-!” She was bouncing up and down with joy, squeezing the book tight to her chest, still ranting about how everyone will love her sudden aff inity. She would’ve lept with glee, but the cave roof was only a foot above her head. “Hey, give me that, I want to see what’s inside.” It took Erin a long while to f inally let go of the Book, but she f inally relented. “Okay, but only for a minute!”
Grab. Flip. “Wait…” “Something wrong?” she asked patiently, eyes sparkling even in the gloom of the cave. “I… uh… nothing! Just some fascinating stuff in here, that’s all! But before you have it, I need to review it to make sure it’s... safe!” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s for your own good, I promise. You go home, I’ll catch up later.” Erin shrugged and left, skipping and singing a sweet song. Immediately after she was out of sight, he wasted no time with the plan he had hatched. This book had to be destroyed. As he was walking to the ravine, some moral quagmires erupted in his mind. Is what I’m doing right? Am I lying? I’m certainly not wrong when I told her it’s for her own good, but… He was at the ravine before he knew it. It was big, to say the least. A monstrous, yawning chasm of deep, with the faint sound of the tiny river trickling through its jagged interior. Zip. Whoosh. SPLASH. The Book of Spells was no more, its pages slowly soaked up until it became nothing more than a disheveled mass of ink and soggy pulp. He punched himself a few times, gave himself some cuts, and sulked home. But at the bottom of the ravine, one paper managed to stay safe. Sitting there in the dark, though no one could read it, it still read: CAT. C-A-T. CAT LOVE. L-O-V-E. LOVE MOUSE. M-O-U-S-E. MOUSE.
WA R ’ S C L A I M Henry Hasslemann
J
ordy and Josh reloaded their snipers. I still didn’t believe that we were here. Everything felt the same except for one thing, nothing was the same. There were brightly colored leaves, or green grass. But, there were gray trees, craters, dead grass, shells, and the never leaving shadow of death everywhere. Jelly kept sleeping, I cleaned the barrel of my sniper, loaded it, and Josh said, “Alkour, wake Jelly, tanks on the third hill to the right. They don’t have a visual on us, but they saw the smoke.” I nodded and shook Jelly awake. “Ahh!” He yelped. “SHHH!!!” Jordy exclaimed.
Thirty feet away, we paused as a tank shot was f ired at the second hill, and then resumed crawling. When we reached the bushes, I whispered, not loud enough for the Germans to hear, “Jelly, take far left, Josh next one down, I’ll take the middle one, Jordy, you take the far right tank, and if you f inish shooting at your target, aim for the second far right tank.” Everyone nodded and we took aim. The barrels looked dull, but the Germans were not tired, but severely wounded. Jordy rolled six times to the right, and his assigned tank turned it’s barrel towards him, but Jordy shot f irst. His bullet went straight down the barrel. His shot startled the German soldiers, and the rest of us all shot our assigned tanks barrels. The explosions went off in rapid succession, and the f lames engulfed the enemy soldiers, wreathing them in f lames.
“What?” He whispered.
They all screamed, but then their throats were silenced as Death’s scythe cut them down.
“Tanks on the third hill to the left.” I said.
“Y EAH!!!” We cheered.
He nodded and I said, “Alright, army quickly to second hill, and then aim for the barrel of the big guns on the tanks, and try to shoot into it to get it to rickashay down the barrel and hit the shell loaded, and stay down behind the bushes.”
We came out of our hiding spots, and looked at the wreckage. A tank track lay across the mud, with holes the size of quarters in it, and a couple tree branches were af lame. The tanks were completely engulfed in f lames, slowly burning down and collapsing.
They nodded, and we rolled out of the tent and began to quickly army crawly for the second hill.
“Well, that’s that.” Josh said.
H E S T R E N U O U S S I T UAT I O N O F T H E S AVAG E S I N K H O L E Jilani Chihak
I
t all started when the playground fell into the sinkhole. There was a large park at the front of an obscure city in Nebraska. It had two playgrounds, one where the regular kids and adults hung out in the northwest corner and an old, run down one in the northeast. Since almost no one worth knowing hung out there, no one batted an eye when a sinkhole swallowed up the place along with 24 homeless kids. They fell 30 feet into a pool of freezing cold water.
shouting to him, but the kids being too weak and the muff ling of the sinkhole prevented him from hearing. One kid decided to throw a rock 30 feet out of the sinkhole for the surface kid to see. Amazingly, he had one heck of a throwing arm. The bad part is that the rock hit the child on the head, knocked off his hat, and he fell into the sinkhole with them. As it turns out, that was what saved them. That child wasn’t homeless like the kids and his parents came looking for him the next day. They found his hat next to the hole and called the police.
Things got grim fast. They all sat there on a small pile of rocks for three days before being found. A bunch of kids went nuts on the f irst day. They lost their marbles and tried f ighting for food. By the second day, a couple kids died of hypothermia. One kid drowned another one during a giant brawl and cracked another kid’s ribs. Another kid died when part of the sinkhole caved in on him, which scared the daylights out of everyone. All of them started frantically shouting, hoping someone would hear, but either no one was near the abandoned playground or the sinkhole muff led the sound. They screamed at the top of their lungs for 20 minutes without stopping. Eventually, the sound of 18 kids yelling faded to a void of silence. The youngest kids started crying.
When the police came into the park, dozens of people crowded to see 18 kids being hoisted up out of the sinkhole on a rope ladder. Several of them recorded it and a bunch of news stations covered the events. The kids became sort of local celebrities and after the police rehabilitated us, all of them were interviewed by reporters. For some reason, the event became way more popular than it should have and raised awareness in many places for the homeless. The obscure city grew in size and popularity and a foster-care system was f inally installed. Long story short, the trauma of 18 kids and death of seven turned out to be the best thing to happen for the city.
Thankfully, a child stumbled upon the sinkhole on the surface and shouted, “Is anyone down there?” They tried
V I N E L I T E R A R Y J O U R N A L | 3 9
“Th ere i s n o g re ate r ag ony th a n be aring an untold stor y ins ide you.” Maya Angelou
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
L I OC A L I N A Quinn Kempenaar Once upon a time there was a griff in named Liocalina who
the sword” Licolina said as the kid pulled the sword out.
lived in the kingdom of Camelot. He had everything that will exist and can exist. How? He could hypnotize anyone to do
“ALL HAIL KING ARTHUR” the people of Camelot roared.
whatever he wanted. “WHAT?!” The griff in exclaimed as servants and knights One day he was sleeping in his cave when he overheard talking
carried Arthur to the castle. As night fell on Camelot,
between two travelers that the new king was going to chosen
Liocalina said, “How how could a little man pull the sword
soon. Liocalina woke immediately. “Who is going to be king
from the stone?”
then?” The griff in boomed. “Uhh, Licolina, sir, you’re talking to yourself again,” said “We d-don’t know, all we know is that you have to pull a
Robin, his servant. “SHUT UP ROBIN YOU DON’T
sword out of a stone,” the travelers sputtered scaridly.
KNOW WHAT YOUR TALKING ABOUT,” Liocalina screamed, spit f lying everywhere.
“So I can become king,” Liocalina said to himself as f lew into the air. He landed in a tree and watched as a little boy
“Uhh, Licolina, sir, you’re talking to yourself again,” said
attempted to pull the sword out of the stone.
Robin, his servant. “SHUT UP ROBIN YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOUR TALKING ABOUT,” Liocalina
“HA” the griff in snarked. “There is no way this kid can pull
screamed, spit f lying everywhere.
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
“Sir, you can just hypnotize Arthur and all of Camelot to be
“Yes sir,” said Arthur slowly marching towards the griff in.
under your command” said Robin. “OH NO YOU DON’T GRIFFIN,” yelled a wizard. Liocalina gasped, “ I know I can just hypnotize Arthur and all of Camelot to be under my command. Boy, I am smart,”
“Titus Andronicus!” he yelled. Liocalina was turned into a
and so Liocalina f lew off.
pie.
He smashed through an open window, confronting the young
“Is he dead Merlin?” asked Arthur.
king. “YOU STOLE MY GLORY ARTHUR, and know I will steal your life!”
Before Merlin, the wizard could answer, Liocalina came out of the pie and grabbed Arthur’s sword in one hand
Arthur grabbed his legendary sword and charged at Liocalina.
and Arthur in the other. He opened his beak and ate King
The griff in swiftly dodged and then zapped a hypno ray from
Arthur.
his eyes, which hit Arthur. “Now give me the sword Arthur,” Liocalina demanded.
“Looks like I’M the king now,” Liocalina said
T E N S E CO N D S Nina Petravicius
“
I once read somewhere that it takes about ten seconds to fall off the Empire State building.”
One and 7/10 decades, seventeen years, 204 months, 6,352 days, 152,448 days, 9,146,880 minutes, 548,812,826 seconds
I once read somewhere that it takes about ten seconds to fall off the Empire State building. I know it couldn’t have been more than f ive seconds but it felt like hours. And I’m glad. I get once last chance to think, one last chance to remember, one last chance to count.
And counting That’s how long I’ve been alive. To think that any moment,
And, honestly, if I got to choose, I think this would be the way I would go. As a hero. Someone to be remembered. Would you rather die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain? If there’s a way to go, this is it. This is the way to die. So, with my last few seconds, I smile. Three clouds, f ifteen stars, one moon, one shadow, one grapple hook, one pair of arms under me. One blurred f igure, one cold, hard roof of a building below me, and one rapid beating of my own heart.
Any second, Any minute, The timer could stop counting. These are the thoughts that run through my mind as I plummet down off the side of the Empire State building. How I ended up being pushed off in the f irst place is a story for another day… If there is one.
I’ve found that, when left to my own devices, I will start counting. Seven houses, twelve street lights, and one f igure beside me. The things I count now are not nearly as pleasant. 6 birds f lying above me, taunting me, hundreds of onlookers screaming beneath me, and zero ways I can get myself out of this.
Still beating. 152,448 days, 9,146,880 minutes, 548,812,841 seconds, And still counting.
Volume 01 No. 01 Fall 2018
THE 28TH Zach Hungerford A man sits alone, Grieving, Sulking, Over his loss. His face seems to take up the whole room, In his world with no boss. His life left alone, nobody to go to on Thanksgiving Day. His soul lost, Facing his troubles, two words proclaimed turned his life to rubble. Rent due to pay, The clock ticking away From his small life, Now with no pay. Bank: No thanks, Time ticking away Almost the 28th. Two days away, Next bank no, Next bank no, No no no! Your credit’s too low Your credit’s too low You don’t seem to know, NO NO NO! Walking home Despair f illing up his shadow, Telling himself; let it go. Things will get better, Don’t be a fretter Things will get better, Don’t be a fretter Things will get better, they said. But they didn’t. Questions running, In the left, out the right Why me? Why now? One day away. Can’t f ind the numbers. Moves out of his house, Now under a catwalk. Life isn’t fair, Something that is now known, For this one unlucky man, Sitting all alone.
T H A N K YO U