Inkblot volume 1 issue 1 spring 2018 final by Anne Sharp

Volume 1, Issue 1

Spring 2018 1

InkBlot is an anthology created and edited by students at Compass Homeschool Enrichment, UUCF Program Building, 2705 Hunter Mill Road, Oakton, Virginia 22124

InkBlot Editorial Staff C.C. Dennison - editor, mystery Petros Flagg - editor, science fiction Valentina Genoese-Zerbi - editor, poetry Ella King - editor, fantasy Magnus Davidson - editor, art & photography Cady McDowell - editor, art & photography Aldrin Yashko - editor, layout & design Anne Sharp, advisor Cover art by Samantha Halander, Age 11

InkBlot Table of Contents p. 5

M.I.S.T. ....................................................Ella King, Age 14, InkBlot fantasy editor

p. 9

Fire ......................................................................................................Ismael Mir, Age 11

p. 11 The Mars Decision Part 1............Petros Flagg, Age 12, InkBlot sci-fi editor p. 18 Flowers for My Lover...............Valentina G-Z, Age 15, InkBlot poetry editor p. 19 Welcome to Europa.......................................................Cyrus Kuester-Ha, Age 10 p. 24 Through the Hard Things .......................................................Stella Pettit, age 12 p. 25 Journeying North................................................................Ellis Kuester-Ha, age 10 p. 31 Not Only a Writer but a True Stimulus for the Middle Class............................

.....................Jay McClendon, Compass Homeschool Parent p. 33 The Losses of Victory.....................................................Aurora Dennison, age 11 p. 41 The Intruders (excerpt) ..............................................................Ismael Mir, age 11 p. 45 Leaping Frog and Jumping Frog................................................Jack Paral, age 9 p. 48 Reaubee and the Missing Dagger.................................Rebagrace Lee, age 11 p. 51 Scarred.................................................Eva Aldrin Yashko, age 13, InkBlot editor p. 57 The Girl................................................Cady McDowell, age 12, InkBlot art editor p. 59 The Girls from Nowhere..................Castille Dennison, age 15, InkBlot editor p. 63 Daffodils......................................................................Shiffa Abdul-Rahman, age 11

M.I.S.T. By Ella King Grade 8, age 14

Chapter 1 More homework? I said sadly as the bell rang to signal the end of school. I sighed as I picked up my backpack and left my classroom. Well, you really can t avoid it. It is part of school after all, said my best friend Sosuke while he adjusted his glasses and looked at me with his green eyes. I wish it wasn t. Then we could be free to do things we actually want to do, I said, running my hand through my short, dark brown hair. At least we live near each other so we can hang out, and you can help me with my homework! My eyes lit up. I m not always going to help you. You can do it yourself, you know, Sosuke said, frowning. Oh, lighten up! I said, and ruffled Sosuke s pitch black hair. Plus, you re smarter than me. A guy needs help sometimes.

Photograph - â&#x20AC;&#x153;Shenandoah Valleyâ&#x20AC;? by Sumayya Abdul-Rahman, age 12

Helping and cheating are two different things, Sosuke said, and I rolled my eyes.

He was right though. I did have a habit to cheat, and ninety percent of the time it was Sosuke who caught me. Also, I really did need help. I wasn t the smartest in my grade, not by the least, and Japan really prides itself on smart students. My school, Michinori High, was one of the best schools in Tokyo and I could barely do algebra. You wonder how I got in? To be honest, I really don t know. Luck? Magic? Even my mom wonders how. Coming from a middle class home, with only my mother to raise me, to one of the best and richest schools in Tokyo? Sosuke didn t seemed surprised though, which is a wonder to me. Sosuke is one of the top students in my grade. Why did he choose me, a mischief making, video game playing, straight B and C student to be friends

with? Just another mystery. Either way, I m glad we became friends. He is really my only friend, no one else talks to me. He s usually grumpy and sarcastic, but he can be really kind at times despite his appearance. Stop daydreaming Akito, the train is here, Sosuke awoke me from my thoughts. I looked out at the train that was pulling in and felt the air on my face while it whizzed past me. It came to a standstill, its doors opened, and people from all directions climbed in. Luckily, Sosuke and I found two seats and sat down. We made a couple of stops until the train came to our destination. We hopped out with the rest of the people scurrying home from work. We started to walk home and got some steamed buns on the way. Then my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I picked it up and looked at it. It was a text from my mom. I started to read it, not realizing that we were at a crosswalk on a very busy street. Sosuke had stopped, but I hadn t noticed and started to cross the street. Akito! Move out of the way! GO! I heard Sosuke scream, and I turned around to see him standing on the sidewalk, his face full of fear. At first, I was confused, until I noticed I was in the middle of the street, and there was something coming at me. I looked to the side, then down the road, and there it was. A car was coming at me at full speed, not realizing I was there. I tried to run, but my legs wouldn t move. I was frozen in fear, and I looked at Sosuke one more time. Shock was written all over his face. I looked at the car, my fate, and braced myself as it sped toward me. It was too late now to run, so I stood in frozen shock as the car rammed into me. I didn t feel anything. No pain, nothing. The car had gone right through me. I had seen the car very clearly when it hit me. But as soon as it touched me, it was like it had turned into mist. It had passed right through my body like a train hitting a ghost. I knew I wasn t dreaming when I clearly saw the car pass me and continue on its way down the street. Someone grabbed my hand. I was too in shock to resist and was pulled into a dark place. I looked up at the person who had grabbed me. It was Sosuke. You have to be careful! You can t just walk in the middle of the street! I was worried for you! That car could have hit you! At least you jumped out of the way in timeâ&#x20AC;Ś Sosuke said. Jumped out of the way? I hadn t moved, nonetheless jumped out of the way. Had he not seen the car pass through me?

Sosuke, I didn t move. Didn t you see? I said quietly. My head was hurting. I felt dizzy too, and my breathing was fast. I didn t jump out of the way, the car passed right through me. Sosuke looked at me with sudden fear on his face. P-passed through you? That s what I said. At that point, Sosuke looked very worried. He suddenly tried to put on a normal face and looked at the sky. It was probably just your imagination, he said. I looked at him, confused. Why did he get so jumpy when I told him what happened? It wasn t my imagination. It went through me like mist, I said. Sosuke stiffened. You probably hit your head. We have to get home soon, your mother will be worried, He said quickly, and tried to hoist me up. I stood up and stumbled, but I regained my balance. We started back home and were silent the whole time. Once, I tried to talk to Sosuke, but he was so deep in thought I thought it best no not bother him. We finally made it to his house. He quickly said bye and went inside. I continued my walk home and wondered what had happened out there on the street. Chapter 2 I woke up to the sound of an alarm. I jumped up, realized it was only my alarm clock, lay back down, and sighed. I turned around in my bed and started to doze off again. I was still a tired mess from the day before. I finally fell back asleep, and I had the strangest dream. I was in a dark room. There was one flickering spotlight above me, and it was aimed down at me. Suddenly there were footsteps. I tried to turn around, but I couldn t. I looked down at myself and realized there was nothing there. I wasn t actually here. Was this place even real? Then, voices. I can t allow this, a deep voice said, and then a man emerged into the room. He flicked a switch and lights came on in the room, illuminating everything around me. There were electronics and screens everywhere. If you walked into a futuristic room full of TV s and robots, this is what it would look like. Another man and a woman came into the room behind the big man with white hair.

The woman spoke up. Sir, we are sorry. We don t know what s going on either, we don t know what is causing it. Maybe someone tampered with it. I can t let that happen. If someone is messing with it, they need to be stopped, The white-haired man said, and he finally turned around, so I could see his face. He had a long, jagged scar running across his left eye, and his face was full of anger. W-we have another report s-sir, the other, little man said. Another M.I.S.T. Platform has been m-messed with. The big man whipped around with hatred in his eyes. Another one? He growled and looked at the main screen in the room, which was about as large as a refrigerator. Just make sure it doesn t happen again. Now go tell my agents to fix it. We can t have another slip. Well, what are you waiting for? Go! The little man ran out of the room, frightened. The first one shouldn t have happened at all. Don t we have a M.I.S.T. agent watching him? The agent should know to be on the lookout. Who is the agent we sent again? Oh never mind, I remember him. We sent him because that boy he s watching is special. No wonder the M.I.S.T. Platform slipped for him. I need information on the boy to make sure he stays out of the way, the white-haired man said and turned to the woman. I need information on Akito Katsuki. I gasped, and everything went black. ----I woke up again to the sound of my alarm clock. Just a dream, I thought as I slammed the snooze button on my clock. I heard my phone buzz and I leaned over to check it. I reached for my phone and gasped. My hand went right through my bedside table. My arm kept going down and down until it touched the floor. I quickly pulled my hand up and almost screamed. What was happening? Yesterday it was a car, and now this? I slowly reached out and touched the table again. It was solid. I quietly picked up my phone and saw that Sosuke had texted me. Come on sleepyhead, you have tutoring today. The text read, and I felt stupid. How could I forget tutoring? Sosuke was going to be so madâ&#x20AC;Ś I quickly threw on my clothes, brushed my teeth, and grabbed a piece of toast. I took one last glance at my bedside table and ran out the door.

Fire By Ismael Mir Age 11 I am Fire I rest on my hearth I glow with a soothing warmth I race through the city with searing heat An endless sea of flames Sparks fly off me as I burn, burn, burn Smoke blots out the sky, making it dark as night My heat is so great, anything near me bursts into flames I blaze through the streets, growing bigger, bigger, bigger I level the buildings I pass I leave the city still burning A big, huge, unfriendly bonfire I am a funeral pyre for all I burn I devour the woodlands, race over firebreaks I spontaneously combust all the grass I leave a trail of embers My luminosity is so great, I can be seen from many miles away Once I am started, I cannot be stopped

“City on fire” by Valentina Genoese-Zerbi age 15

The Mars Decision Part 1 Petros Flagg Grade 8, age 12 At the end of day, I feel happy and fulfilled. Another day done and finished. Another day of selling my wares. Most days I get good business, 500 coins a day, but on bad days I feel some sort of unhappiness. Even then, I still feel a sense of happiness, because I get to rest. The last customer walks out of the shop with a watch made on Earth, and some tightened spider silk. I watch him weave through the shop until he makes it to the door. I look at my counter-specifically the shelf under it. I struggle to lift the bulging wooden box onto the top of the counter. I look inside and start to count the bills and coins. 120â&#x20AC;Ś.150â&#x20AC;Ś.200â&#x20AC;Ś.250...400...521! No! I look at the chart inside; I mark the amount on a line graph. Even today, I was 4 credits under break! But I celebrate anyway, put the box back under the counter and lock it up, and then I too make the journey to my front door. I flip the sign over to closed and walk back to the counter. I then walk up the stairs next to the counter. Just like every other evening, I meander over to the kitchen and cook some carrots up in a silver pot. While the pot slowly begins to boil, I take some advice and don t watch it. Instead I contemplate the latest art techniques and the latest news. Wild dogs are starting to rip solar panels from the ground and feeding on the maintenance crews. On a lighter note, archaeologists have discovered tombs of a long dead race, hidden in the massive cliffs of Chalce Montes and Sisyphi Montes. In total, there are three. The first one is nicknamed "The Librarian". They found 72 shelves worth of books scattered around a "football field" sized area. There were tables with strange charts and maps, and a telescope was located at the far edge of the tomb pointing directly at Earth. When they finally found the sarcophagus, they found a strange "guitar pick" shaped corpse with a hole in it. Its eyes were closed and it s arms were crossed on his chest. The second tomb was nicknamed "The Warrior". It was slightly smaller than "The Librarian" tomb. There were thousands of statues of the creatures with spears, guns, and other strange weapons lining the walls. There was one huge tomb at the end of it, and a tablet written in a strange alien language was found near it. It also housed four racks of unidentifiable weapons next to

a telescope; it too was pointed toward Earth. The tomb contained the same species as "The Librarian" only it had two swords on its chest. The third one was nicknamed "The King". There were a series of puzzles and traps preceding the tomb. Two of the crew died trying to get in. The military later disabled the corridor. The tomb itself was only about the size of a one-story house. It was filled to the brim with precious metals and books entwined with precious materials. Even though scientists haven t found those precious metals anywhere else, they still probably came from the salvage of earth rovers and drones. Under the pile was a tomb containing a decayed alien, just like the other two tombs. At the top of the pile there was a ledge with a telescope, which was pointing to New Earth. I don t have time to contemplate anymore, because the pot whistled and wailed like a banshee. I take it off the stove and put it on a plate. I look out the window. It is still dark outside. I think someone may have tinted it, or threw paint on it, those teenagers who have nothing better to do. I set the carrots down on the counter and trotted upstairs. I stomped my way up the stairs and went into my room. I stared at the clock; it showed that it was 12. It must have broken. I turned on the TV and looked on it s clock. It read: "12:06 A.M." The News channel has two main channels: The All Day channel, and the Evening News. Right now, it was the Evening News. I like it, so I slouch and glare at the screen. The words "Official Government Announcement. I then squint at the T.V. with even more attention than I would have before. The news anchors were sitting at a desk. "I'm Bo. "And I'm Jenine," says Jenine "Welcome to the Evening News everyone. Today we have a lot to talk about. None of it is fun and games sadly, so do buckle up, it'll be a long ride," says Bo "Today we'll be talking about tombs, the empire's secret book, and the rebels. It's bound to be a sad ride. So first off on our agenda." "...is some creepy tomb news," says Bo "So, last night another tomb was uncovered. Scientists have dubbed it The Astronomer's tomb as the contents of the tomb included four sandstone tables, with a large assortment of strange star charts, astronomical tools, oil paintings, drawings of Earth, and a telescope pointing directly at Earth. "

They show a picture of a strange drawing depicting a big circle and writing in white ink all around the edges. Then they show a picture of a model of the solar system, and two big "sickles" attached at their handles. Then there s an oil painting of what looks like the western hemisphere of New Earth, and one of the Eastern Hemisphere. Both of the paintings are gilded in gold, red jasper (a milky red) emeralds bursting with green, and dark indigo amethysts. Both paintings have one word at the bottom. It looks like it s four letters long. It s too difficult to read. Apparently, I dozed off, because when I get back it s 3:28 a.m., and they are talking about rebels. "...The Rebels have again made another speech televised on T.V. today. It was around a minute long and we had to cut..." Before Bo can finish the screen turned to static and a garbled voice announced: "Hello, Public of the Empire. I am Jolson Brown, and I want to inform you of our cause once more. The emperor neglects your safety, for he lets his men dig the tombs up even though a dangerous gas lies beneath them. If that gas is released in the atmosphere, then it will contaminate the atmosphere and kill us all. The emperor doesn t care about you, he cares only for himself. My time is up now, but whatever you do, DO NOT LISTEN TO HIM! DON T LET HIM DIG THE TOMBS UP! Then the static fades away and it turns back to the T.V. show. Then suddenly there s a knock on the door. I go to see who it is. --I open the door and a tall, blonde woman stands in front of me. The scar on her eye is so noticeable that even a blind man could see it. Her slim physique makes it look like she could be fit into a mailbox. Her crisp black coat is neat and very orderly. She also wears the badge of an intelligence officer. Is this the residence of Bill Grenback? says the woman Yes, ma am it is. Hello, my name is Jillian. The empire needs you. Why do they need me? I m just a lowly merchant, what would you need with me? Your science expertise is highly useful at this time.

What science expertise? Your PHD in biochemistry and 10 years of experience in a lab with hazardous gases. I refuse to remember. I don t care about any stupid project you have. Those caves and the gases inside them, we need to explore the caves more. It has potential groundbreaking knowledge that the empire simply can t pass up. After Danny s death, I refuse to remember. Now if you could please… My superiors did say to get you by any means necessary. This area is pro-rebel, I could scream EMPIRE! and they would assault you. That s not what I meant, but I guess that would work too. What I was going to do is offer you a grant for your shop, nice location, lots of foot traffic. 100,000 credits. Does that spark your courage, Bill? That could, but… A nice contract with Boulevard Luxury Products. Very convincing. Maybe… A house with a docking pad in the field section. With a spaceship. Well then, I think we have a deal, a very good one. But I have to think about it a little. Let it all simmer, I say. All right Bill, I ll leave you too it. But you have 3 days to decide. Anything else you want to talk about, call me at this number. She throws a tiny card on the table and walks out of the shop. I decide that I am going to take the next three days off. So, I run up the stairs and into my bedroom. Then I turn on the T.V. I watch it for a while, then it garbles up and someone says, "Hello Bill, we need to talk." "Hi. Who are you?" I mumble. "I am Constance, the one of freedom. I am here to tell you, Mr. Bill, of the truth." I already know it, you just think you know it, I remark.

Listen, that gas in the caves. I see you made a deal with Ms. Jillian. Yes, why are you calling me then? Because I want to tell you that I am not as nice. You have one day to call me and except my offer. What offer is that? That offer is that I don t kill you on the spot. That s not very convincing. Your voice tells me you reâ&#x20AC;Ś Look down at your chest Bill. There is a dot, a red dot. That is the sight of my sniper. Watching you. Now see, that s convincing. Good, now I won t kill you. But I just wanted to make sure that you know that I keep my promises Bill. I assumed so. Good now. One day to call this number. Or die. "Wait, Wait, WAIT!" I scream, but the garbled voice disappears, and it is replaced with the news anchor s voices, now talking about some lotion tax. --Now this is something to consider. I think to myself as I turn off the T.V. I look outside at the cool night sky. There s a star up in the sky, and the moon. There is also an eastern hemisphere crescent. I can see earth from here. I remember Danny. She had a weird name. She was smart, kind, charming, and an exquisite lab assistant. If she had been alive now, we probably would have been married. But a careless mistake by a grad student, and all of it slipped out of my reach. The student had dropped the egg of a wild creature. He had woken up the mothers and we tried to hide. But they saw us and they started running at us. First, they ate the student, then another. We ran to the corner and hid, but they still smelled us and they ran toward our hiding place. Danny gave me a kiss through the radiation suit, and then she turned the corner and ran toward the creatures screaming some sort of war cry. We ran, and the last sound I heard from her was a crunch.

A day later I resigned. My superiors disliked this. But I have to think about other things now. Who to help? Weird question to ask, but I m asking. The empire sure offered me a hunk of money to join and my business would soar. I could open two more stores! But those rebels will kill me. I think the empire has sufficient protection. I shall call them in the morning. I ll be in a car headed to the most secure facility in a day or two. I go to bed and wait to call.

By R. E. Peters

Light show by Valentina Genoese-Zerbi, age 15

Flowers for My Lover Valentina Genoese-Zerbi Age 15 On a day like today, I picked a flower for my lover But that day, for once, you saw me Called to me, and I quickly ran away Away, to my lover, to give her the flower The next day, you saw me again And this time, you followed So I ran away, to give my lover a flower The third day, you caught me And said something funny "Show me the girl for whom you'd steal flowers" And I led you away, but I was unsure How should I tell you where my lover is? How should I say I still go to her grave? To give my lover a flower?

Welcome to Europa Cyrus Kuester-Ha Grade 5, age 10 My name is Edward S Bowing and I am, or rather, was, the Captain of the spaceship Endeavour. A week ago, my crew and I launched from the rocket carrier Pearl of the Sea. The purpose of our mission, directed by our country s president, was to find new water sources. As you are probably aware, water is becoming an increasingly scarce resource on Earth, and wars are already being fought over it. Not many of you might know however that Europa, a satellite moon orbiting Jupiter that was first discovered by Galileo in the early 17 century, has long been suspected to harbor water beneath what appears to be a rocky and, in some places, icy surface. Once our President, a scientist himself, stumbled upon this in a Popular Science article, he was determined to claim those water resources for our country. This, in short, is the story of how we ended up on Europa. Little did any of us know that our mission would take a very different turn… th

--Our journey to Europa went smoothly, and the landing was just as successful as we had hoped. There was relief and joy back at mission control when we were able to confirm our safe arrival. Immediately, my team of scientists and experienced space miners put on their oxygen masks ‒ for we still did not know whether Europa s atmosphere contained enough oxygen for humans ‒ and headed toward Phyll, the largest crater on Europa, while I stayed behind aboard our spaceship. While I was updating notes, checking the spaceship s system, and updating mission control, I kept peering out of the window and admiring Europa s landscape glistening in the afternoon sun. How different this moon appeared to be from the harsh, rocky landscape that we had expected! All of a sudden - I could not believe my eyes - seven well armored ancient Greeks, wearing see-through spacesuits, appeared in the entrance of the spaceship and their leader, speaking with a distinctly Greek accent, greeted me, Dear Earthling, welcome to Europa! We have orders to take you to our polis. Please follow us, he requested politely.

Feeling intrigued rather than scared and moving as if I were in a trance, I followed them to a small, enclosed, chariot-shaped buggy that was pulled by two mechanical horses. When the last Greek closed the door, every member of this rather strange group took off their helmet and gestured to me to do the same. Taking a deep breath, I managed to stutter, Wh-who are you people? A Greek in light armor replied, Well, we are Greeks. Still confused, I asked again, But how did you get here, and how long have you been on Europa? The Greek smiled slightly and continued, Well, in what you call 54 BC, about two hundred of our ancestors, mostly from Sparta, arrived here on a rocket. As you know, we Greeks love exploring, and we are also skilled, knowledgeable astronomers. After we had colonized all the lands around the Mediterranean, what else was there left to explore? Space, obviously! Slowly it dawned on me that I had been abducted, in a rather polite, nonthreatening fashion, by some descendants of ancient Greeks that had arrived on Europa more than two millennia ago. And we thought we were always first at everything! Still, I kept wondering, But, what are you still doing here after all these centuries? Why did your ancestors not return to their homeland? The Greek nodded, looking just a little melancholic, Good question, Earthling. You know, when we departed on our mission, our state was already weakening. The citizens thought that we could become stronger if we colonized space, so our brightest, strongest, and most noble men and slaves, together with their families, were sent on this mission. Their task was to claim Europa for the polis, undertake research, and then return to Earth to develop plans on how best to use Europa s resources for the good of the polis. Unfortunately, shortly after landing, we experienced catastrophic equipment failure, and the return had to be postponed. Still not quite understanding how this was all possible, I asked, But why does no one on Earth know about you? How could all of this have been kept secret for so long? The Greek, looking at me with a mixture of pity and amusement, shook his head, Earthling, have you never heard of the ancient lost city of Atlantis?

Noticing a flicker of recognition on my face, he continued, Yes, yes, that one. No, it s not a made-up story. Atlantis was the center of science and research when our ancestors lived. Their rocket to Europa took off from there, and that was where the scientists supporting them worked. Well, until that fateful day when Thera erupted, and Atlantis sank deep into the sea. All that was left was a small island full of goats and fishermen. I believe they call it Santorini, and you people like to go there, thinking that this is all there is to Greece. A look of disdain crossed his face. My head was spinning as I realized that I was talking with not just any ancient Greek, but a descendant of a leading citizen of either the lost city of Atlantis, or Sparta, which was a rival to Athens in ancient Greece! Before I could continue with my questions, the chariot stopped, and the doors were flung open. I climbed out of the vehicle as the glistening sun was slowly setting over the gray landscape, and gazed at the silver and marble work of the city that was lying in a valley in front of us. --I was ushered into a building whose structure reminded me of an ancient temple. In the central hall, I was greeted by some other Greeks, both men and women, and was offered the most delicious cheese and grapes. Soon another door opened, and I was asked to proceed to a large chair, where an older, serious, but gentle-looking Greek was seated. Before I could say anything, he began, Dear Earthling, my name is Leonidas. I have allowed myself to bring you and your fellows to our polis. I have an idea that may be of great interest to you. That is all very nice, I interrupted, but where is my crew? Your crew is already here, just next door. Gesturing towards a wise-looking man who had been observing our exchange, he ordered, Atticus, please bring the other Earthlings here! Soon, my crew filed into the room, looking bemused rather than scared, but relieved to see me there. Before we could talk to each other, Leonidas continued, You have to understand, we did not ask you to come to Europa. Now that you are here and know about us, we will need to find a solution. You see, our ancestors once came here just like you, hoping to exploit this beautiful land. They, just like you, ended up staying on Europa longer than they had planned. Luckily, their group consisted of the most educated and noble men and the strongest slaves, as

well as everyone s families. Smart as they were, they soon realized that, if they wanted to survive on Europa, they had to work together as citizens with equal rights. They freed the slaves and everyone â&#x20AC;&#x2019; men, women, and even children â&#x20AC;&#x2019; became a citizen. Here on Europa everyone is a citizen at birth, with all the rights and duties that come with this. Every citizen has the duty always to try their best and educate themselves, and to make the best decisions for the common good. Yes, yes, we are quite different from you, are we not? He paused to chuckle. Before I could say anything, he resumed, This is where our proposal comes in. We cannot let you go back to Earth. You might not have known about us, but we have been observing you Earthlings very closely. Oh dear, what a mess you are in! Your planet is polluted, you are constantly at war, Earthlings are overworked, many go hungry, and very few have the time to think properly. I fear what would happen to us if we let you return to Earth with knowledge of what is on Europa! Now he looked genuinely upset, and Atticus patted his shoulder. Nodding, Lenonidas gathered himself, We believe, my dear Earthlings, that the Gods have sent you to us as a sign that the time has come for us to embark on our mission to save Earth. You see, we have made a lot of progress here, but our expertise is in living well with each other and our environment. We are great thinkers and appreciate culture. We are even accomplished scientists, but we need to learn about the more recent technological advances that you Earthlings have made. I believe that there are these machines that are beginning to think for you. Well, we d rather think for ourselves, but they will still be useful for our mission to save your planet, he concluded, smiling to himself. I glanced at my crew, who appeared even more shell-shocked than I was, before I responded, This is asking a lot of us. Still, I understand your reasoning and indeed, I share some of your views. Please allow me to gather with my crew privately to come to a conclusion. Leonidas nodded, and we were ushered into an adjacent room, where, supplied with plentiful delicious foods and wine, we debated until early the next morning. Our mission too had been equipped with the best and the brightest. So, it did not take too long for us to conclude that we really had no option but to help the Greeks in their mission to save Earth. With that conclusion made, we debated back and forth about how to disappear on Europa without inviting a follow-up mission from Earth. We eventually concluded by democratic vote (see how Greek we had become already?) to send a final mission failure

message to ground control, stating that there was no water to be found on Europa and that our oxygen supplies had been compromised, before disconnecting all systems. With this done, we now intend to become honorable and fully engaged citizens of Europa and assist the ancient Greeks in their mission to save Earth from its inhabitants. You might meet us soon, but do not worry, our intention is to help, not to conquer! It might be a good idea to start learning some classical Greek though...

Dyani By Jewel Matson, age 13

Through the Hard Things Stella Pettit Age 12 I am awakened early in the morning by a loud sound I stumble out of bed, making my way towards the porch door As I gaze upon what seems like nothing, thunder rumbles high above the fields I look around, seeing nothing else but a spider, weaving a web, unfazed by the supposed distraction Weaving, weaving, weaving, no stopping for silly sounds I sit in a rocker on the porch, admiring the spider s brave soul

“Two Sides” by Stella Pettit, age 12

“Black Widow” by Jewel Matson, age 13

Journeying North By Ellis Kuester-Ha Grade 5, age 10 Artwork - Owl on gray by Jack Paral, 4 grade th

One scorching morning, as I was bending over a tobacco plant, pulling its leaves from the stem, Master Hope (what irony of a name!) barked out orders harshly, holding a whip and slapping it onto his opposite palm. Hurry up faster, or I ll beat ya, you lazy boy! I sighed, my back aching terribly. One day, I shall be free, free from this hateful person and this backbreaking work. Yes, one day I shall be free , I murmured. What d ya say? yelled Master Hope, red-faced, spitting chewed out tobacco on the ground. I m not feeding you to talk! Nothing, Master, I shouted quickly, now keeping my thoughts inside, my mouth shut, and my head down. The others said that Old Master Hope, who passed when I was still with mama, was not as bad. They even got five days off at Christmas back then. The young Master, barely ten years older than I, had already worked half the slaves to the grave. Not a way to live, not a way I will live. One day, I shall be free , I consoled myself.

Thirty years later â&#x20AC;Ś Get up, or I ll beat ya! Screamed Master Hope, now gray at the temples, but with a face still as red and angry as when he was a young man. Stifling a yawn, I lifted my tired bones off my straw pad. Peering through the opened door, I could barely make out the fields as the sun was just beginning to rise.

Not much longer, I thought to myself, Soon I shall be free! John, who had arrived from Georgia last year with only a treasured quilt to his name, had been telling me about this railroad, made not from iron, but good people. They said that you could travel all the way north on it, but you must use your own feet, some luck, God s grace, and pray for good people along the route. At the end, there would be freedom. John told me that he knew some brothers who had travelled on that railroad and had found freedom at its end, and that soon, he too would follow the North Star all the way to Canada, pointing on his quilt to show me the route. And I will join you, I concluded there and then, soon, we shall be free! --Shush, John whispered, gesturing at me to keep down. A twig snapped with a loud crack as John and I crept out of the plantation. A dog barked in the distance. The cold rain pounded against our faces, and then trickled down towards our feet. Thunder roared as lightning illuminated the night sky. Silently, we slid into the dark, ancient forest that I had seen from the fields for so many years, but had never crossed into. Then we started running, for we were now off the plantation, but still a long way from freedom. We ran and ran, stumbling over branches and roots, startled by the crackling sound of the forest floor pounded by our rushing feet, but protected by the roaring sounds of that mighty storm. As we finally reached the edge of the forest, panting and coughing for air, the first beams of light shone through the treetops. Searching for a thick bramble patch to rest during the day, John suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small, rain-battered rock formation near the edge of a dried-out creek. Look, I think the conductors left a signal for us to follow that creek. Nodding I stumbled along, looking around furtively, for the sun was starting to beat down through the leaves. It wouldn t be safe for us out here much longer. Just then, as we passed a bend in the creek, there lay the thickest bramble patches I had ever set eyes on. No dog, and certainly no Masters, would ever want to come close to that! I think some travelers have visited before us , John whispered, pointing at the man-sized hole that had been dug underneath one side of the patch. We unpacked some provisions that John had stolen from the Master s kitchen, and soon we took turns resting while the other listened out.

At dusk we set off again, looking for the sycamore trees that were shown on John s quilt. Just before dawn, John suddenly threw his hands in the air: Holy Lord, the blessed tree! he exclaimed, barely managing to keep his voice at a whisper. He was pointing towards a growing line of trees that were beginning to follow the creek. Just then the ground beneath my feet felt soggy, and after a few more steps I felt the water around my ankles. The creek was now carrying water, we were getting closer to the river! With our joy also came exhaustion, and we bedded down for the day. By now, we were starting to look like the bramble patches that had become our daytime homes. The following nights and days all flowed into each other as the creek became bigger, our feet more tired and our stomachs emptier, but our hearts bigger and bigger with hope. Luckily, the only company we encountered on our journey were dashing foxes and howling owls. Many nights later, the sun was just rising, and the plantation and Master Hope seemed a long way away, when I spotted a heron by the edge of the creek. The river, and freedom beyond that, could not be far away now. The creek turned twice more and there it was, a mighty river, far too deep to wade through and the current too strong to swim in. Lost in thought, I was startled by John s elbow hitting my rib cage. With a smiling face, he nodded his head towards a dock that I could barely make out in the distance. Again, if John s quilt was going to be a trustworthy guide, by the afternoon there should be a cargo boat ready to cross the river again at sunset. Hiding in the bushes, we almost gave up hope for the day until a small cargo boat suddenly appeared. I still don t know why the captain announced loudly to no one in particular (for it was only him and his dog) that he would depart shortly, before he disappeared for a while. I suspect he was one of those good people working on the railroad. With no time to think, John and I looked around quickly and dashed over onto the boat. Each of us hopped into an empty crate, closed the lid, and lay silently, pressed against the damp, dark crate walls that trapped the darkness. Time to go , we heard the captain announce to no one in particular. Did he actually unload anything onto that river bank? I wondered, just as the boat suddenly shook and the heavy humming of the boat s engine

deafened my thoughts. Just as suddenly as we had departed, we arrived at the other side of the river, one step closer to freedom. Ahh, I ll get back to that tomorrow, the captain announced, again to no one in particular. As his footsteps faded into the distance, we climbed out quickly and ran into the nearby woods. --About an hour must have passed, until, a voice suddenly appeared behind us: I think you must be looking for a station, fellas. I looked in a panic at John, who seemed less concerned about the white, middle-aged man in front of us than I was. Not to worry, my dear men, nothing but a bunch of Quaker farmers around here. Still, Indiana isn t Canada, and you still have a long journey ahead of you. Let me bring you to Mr. Coffin. John nodded, his face lighting up with relief at the recognition of that name. That Mr. Coffin, he s the President of the Railroad , he whispered, and suddenly looked very tired. Tom, we are almost there, we are almost free! , he added, tears streaming down his face.

The friendly man led us to a fairly large, red brick house, its windows lit by candles. He stepped forward and rapped on the door. The door creaky opened slowly and another white man appeared. Silently, he ushered us inside and introduced himself as Levi Coffin. With the remark that slave hunters were circling the area, he led us into his courtyard and, signaling to us to remain silent, stopped at a well and gestured to us to climb inside. --The next morning, we were brought back into the house and, after a hearty breakfast, Mr. Coffin sat down with us and asked us several questions. Upon learning that we were hoping to make it to Canada, he leaned back in his chair and began explaining, Ah yes, that would take you some days, about four if you don t encounter bad weather at night. Leaning over a map, he pointed out several routes and circled the areas where slave hunters had been most active recently. It s a dangerous journey, my dear men. With so many more trying to make their way to freedom, the

slave hunters have arrived in this area, he explained with a worried look on his face. --On our third night, just a day from Canada and freedom, John followed behind me as I stumbled through the thickness of the dark night. Lost in our thoughts and less aware of the noises around us than when we had started our journey, we did not hear the group of men and dogs until they were almost behind us. Run, Tom, run, John whispered suddenly. As I dashed through the woods, I could hear the men shouting and the dogs barking. Finally I found a thick bramble patch and dug myself into the branches, not even noticing the gashes the thorns left on my skin. Trying to catch my breath, I heard a series of gun shots close behind me, followed by shouting and laughter. As the voices trailed off into the distance, I peeked through the thorny twigs and made out John s lifeless body slumped on the ground, just a few yards from my hiding spot.

To be continued â&#x20AC;Ś

One way one way one way by Jay McClendon Compass Homeschool Parent

Not Only A Writer but a True Stimulus for the Middle Class By Jay McClendon Compass Homeschool Parent

A found poem created by selecting one phrase from the first ten tweets in the author s Twitter feed and punctuating them for clarity. Powerful art, We can t wait to hear from you. They will wring their hands together; Irons are like rocket fuel for your game. Big news! Hope to see you next week, So farmers will learn what we have been saying for so long already: A bit of wet snow may fall Saturday. Make sure you don t watch this video.

Pumpkins by Sarah Matson, age 10

By Tor Davidson, grade 8

The Losses of Victory Aurora Dennison Grade 6, age 11 1 Thank you, Tom! I call over my shoulder as I head home from getting the paper for Father. You are welcome, Emma, Tom replies. I always thought he was kind of cute, black hair, blue dreamy eyes, freckles and a warm smile. However, I am just twelve and he is sixteen. I would just be a cute, little girl in his eyes. Besides, Tom is poor, and Father would never approve. I walk up the front steps and open the door. My father, who is reading a book, gets up and takes the paper. You may meet up with Olivia if you please. I am busy, and you have nowhere to go today. Just be back by six o'clock to prepare our supper, Emmilia. Yes Father. Where is Ben? He left with his friend to study. Okay. See you at supper. Goodbye. Goodbye. Have fun. When I reach Olivia s house, Olivia is just leaving. She spots me on her way down the steps and she exclaims, Oh! I was just going to see if you were home. And I was coming to do the same! My mother said I could play with you today. Is that okay? Yes. I was thinking we could stop by Grace's house and see if she had some time to come with us as well. Do you want to? Sure! As we walk to Grace s house I can t help missing my mother, who died of yellow fever when I was 3. Olivia s mother cares for me, but it s not the same. Still, I am glad I at least have my father and Ben. Some are less lucky then that.

Grace Wisher, an African American indentured servant of Mary Pickersgill and a friend of Olivia s and mine, spends some of the day with us too. We have a grand time making corn husk dolls and jumping rope. On the way home, I pick up some oysters from the market for supper with the coins Father has given me. 2 As we sit down for the dinner (I made of oyster pie, boiled carrots and leftover cornbread), I notice my father looks solemn. There was probably just another attack from the British. There have been a lot recently. I am surprised they have not attacked Baltimore, where we live. After all, Baltimore is a pretty important city. There is terrible news, Father says. What is it Father? I ask Three days ago, this past Wednesday on August 24th, the city of Washington was burned down by General Ross and his troops. Oh no! What will they do next, now that they have burnt the nation's capital! I exclaim. This time Ben spoke up and said, Now we know their real target was not DC itself, but Baltimore. According to reports, the British fleets are heading this way. There was an awkward silence in which no one moved. It lasted for about a minute until I spoke up and asked, What should we do? Leave? Ben and I both looked at Father for a reply. No. We cannot just leave and watch our home be burned. We will stay and help fight. So what am I supposed to do while you two go and fight? Watch and wait for you be killed? I implore. I don t know yet, but maybe yes. I don t know anything quite yet. There is a long silence as we eat our dinner. When we are done and I have cleaned the dishes, my father tells me to go to bed. I stay awake thinking for what seems like forever. This could be the end of Baltimore. Father and Ben could die. Anything could happen! I am scared. As I think, I remember the gigantic American flag and a smaller American flag that Grace had told us about many months ago. She shared that she had sewn the flag with Ms. Pickersgill, Ms. Pickersgill s daughter Caroline, and two of Ms. Pickersgill s

nieces. I believe she said that the bigger one was thirty by forty feet. That is HUGE! Now I wonder if General George Armistead, Fort McHenry s commander, will fly the bigger flag in the upcoming days. After a long time, my eyes get droopy and I fall asleep.

3 In the morning, I feel better. So does everyone else. Still, no one is happy. When Father sees me he says, After church, Ben and I will go and see if we can volunteer for fighting at Fort McHenry and help dig trenches. What will I do? I ask. Stay here, or go spend the day with Olivia. Let me know her family s plan, comes Father s reply. If it were up to me, I would be fighting with both Father and Ben. Why can t I be a boy? It s not fair. I know what my father would say to that, Life is not fair. After church, Father and Ben set out to find how they can help prepare for the battle we all know is coming. I invite Olivia over, and after Ben and Father leave, Olivia and I put on water for tea. Then I ask, Have you heard the news of Washington? Of course. Last Wednesday, right? Are you staying or leaving? Olivia replies. I am staying. That is where Father and Ben went; to get jobs. You? No. My father is insisting we all leave for Boston tomorrow. We will stay with my aunt and uncle, who live there. Oh. I will miss you terribly. Will you come back after the battle? Yes, if Baltimore survives, we will be back. I will miss you too! There is an awkward pause as we try to think of something to say. We sit and have our tea in a solemn silence together. When Father and Ben get home, they inform me that they have jobs. They were assigned roles from Judge Joseph Nicholson, who is now a captain in charge of the Volunteer Forces called the Baltimore Fencibles, which he had organized in May. They will man the bastions of Fort McHenry. The people have already started digging trenches, and the militia is recruiting more people to fight. General Armistead has sent land troops to block the British from coming into Baltimore by land. The earthwork trenches are coming

around nicely. The British cannot possibly penetrate them. Father has told me many things like that. Even with all these protections, how can we possibly win this battle! The British are so much more skilled and powerful. 4

One week and 6 days later. Today we are ready for the British. We have trenches, and we have people manning every portion of the fort. I am sitting in the top window, where I can see Father and Ben with my father s telescope from his youth. I will stay here all day to make sure they stay safe. I tried to get a job as a nurse, but they said they would only allow a few adult women and servants. General Armistead wanted most women moved to safety before the battle began. Now that Grace is working as a nurse and Olivia has left, I am left alone to watch helplessly as brave men die, knowing that I cannot help. I decide to pray in hopes that God will help protect us today! Suddenly, I begin to see something materialize out of the mist. I get a tight feeling in my stomach, and I know that these ships seemingly coming out of thin air are the British ships. I see every soldier on duty straighten up, and I know I am right. A man runs into the fort. A couple of minutes later he comes out and shouts something to the men, and they start loading the cannons and bring their muskets to the ready. Then the first shot is fired by the British, narrowly missing the fort. I keep a close eye on Father and Ben. One shot hits its mark on the fort s magazine, where all the gunpowder is stored. I close my eyes tightly waiting for the explosion that never came! I look up, only to see that the cannonball must have been defective. I say a thank you to God for sparing our lives. Another mortar shell is fired from the British. It hits right by Ben s post. NO! It can t be! Not Ben! I rush downstairs and out the front door into the smoke. I run down through the streets and finally to where there are two guards guarding the fort. I pretend I am there to help the nurses. I rush over to where Ben is lying motionless in a pool of his own blood. Grace, who is working as a nurse, sees me and rushes over. They do not think they can save him, so they will not take him inside. Grace tells me. Then you must help me! Please. I say desperately. Grace looks around, and then grabs a large piece of wood from a heap of rubble and I roll an unconscious Ben onto it. We lift him up together using

the piece of wood as a stretcher. I look down at him as he moans, and I see that the debris from the explosion took off a piece of muscle on the inside of his arm. We get him inside and lay him on a bed that immediately gets soaked with blood. Grace rushes to a supply kit and gets out a cloth and a wooden rod, which she uses to tie some sort of bandage just above the wound. As if reading my thoughts, she tells me, It is a tourniquet. It will cut off his circulation and his arm will fall off. It is the only way to stop the bleeding. I nod, choking back tears. Go home! Grace orders. The doctors and nurses will do their best to help him, she says in a gentler voice. I nod again and run home crying, while also praying.

5 After the battle, even though we are home and have won, Father and I are sitting in a solemn silence, both at a loss for words. Ben is still in the hospital. He has not woken up yet. Then there is a knock on the door. I get up and answer it. It is Grace. She does not look happy. Is it about Ben? I ask. She nods. My father stands up. Come sit, he says. Grace sits in a wooden rocking chair. This morning I was sitting with him when he woke up. He looked into my eyes with sad eyes. He said, 'Tell them I will always be with them. Tell Father he was the best I could ever have. And tell Emma I love...I Love...I love...Her. And he died. I am so, so sorry. I start sobbing as I run to my father and give him a hug. Grace gets up and leaves with a curtsey.

Epilogue We buried Ben s body at our church and layered his grave with flowers. We gave his soul our blessings. Olivia is back, so she came to our house for the funeral. `That night I think of his dying words as I go to sleep, I will always be with you. And now I know that they are true. Though his body lays at rest, his soul stays in our hearts no matter where we go. Even though we lost Ben, America gained a huge victory in the Battle of Baltimore. In the days following the battle, a poem written by Francis Scott Key spread across the city rapidly. It was even in the Baltimore Sun! They say he wrote it aboard a ship after watching the battle, while being temporarily detained by the British for sake of the secrecy of their attack. He said he was moved to write it when he watched the American flag being raised, after the fog of the battle had cleared. I believe this is how it begins, O say can you see….

“Peach Blossoms” by Shifaa Abdul-Rahman

Hands by Elizabeth B., age 12

Toothless by Jewel Matson, age 13

The Intruders Excerpt Ismael Mir Age 11 Photo untitled My leather clad feet pad silently through the forest. My black cape, which rustles in the breeze, conceals my armor. Birds are chirping. Mighty oak and maple trees rise high above me, swaying in the breeze. Mushrooms grow in the shade beneath them. The smell of a healthy and rich forest fills my nose. A stream gurgles in the distance. A whistle stops me in my tracks. Spinning around, I see five men with bows and arrows pointed at me. Clothed in burlap, they each have a dagger at their side. Who goes there? I ask as I unsheathe my sword. The one who appears to be the leader responds, Do not move or we will shoot. The leader is about average height. He alone amongst them wears a sword and a leather plate of armor on his chest. He looks slightly travel worn. I start moving towards them. They shoot at me, but the arrows clang harmlessly off my armor. I continue to move forward menacingly. In their surprise and confusion, they realize they cannot defeat me. I demand their surrender and they agree. They ask which side I am loyal to. They seem quite relieved when they hear of my allegiance. They say they wish to defect to my side. They ask to see the commander of my army right then, for they have vital information that cannot wait. I tell them I am the commander. They gasp in surprise. One of the men sneers to his companions, He is lying, a commander would not be out alone like this, such an easy target for assassination. I am the commander and I am not alone, I respond.

Then I wave my arms. A dozen men appear, some from the underbrush and some from the treetops. Each is holding a loaded crossbow pointed at the intruders. See, if I had failed to defend myself or given the go ahead, you all would have been porcupines before you knew it." I direct my next statement to my general surroundings, saying, "The rest of you can come out now. There's no need to conceal our full strength." Two-dozen more men emerge from camouflaged places, each holding regular bows and arrows pointed at the men. I knew of your coming this way before you even came close. What is your news? Well first of all, the enemy has surrounded your castle, preparing for a surprise attack. I know that. We have abandoned it, leaving only one brave man with a torch, some food, and a sword. As soon as the enemy attacks, and the first group of men from the enemy gets into the castle, he is to set fire to the oil rags on all the wooden supports. Then he will run out of the castle through an escape tunnel. The castle will then fall down, hopefully on top of most of their troops. Now do you have anything else you can tell me? Our other piece of information is that we found a weakness in your enemy s castle s defense! What is it? They have a huge pit under their west side wall. The wall is weakened quite a bit and is crumbling. Attack there with your trebuchet, and within a few hits you should be able to knock the wall down. Then you can storm the enemies castle with ease. That is a pretty good plan. We can pepper them with arrows after knocking down the wall and then storm the castle. Thank you. You are welcome to join our army as scouts. How would you like that? I think that would suit us very well indeed. Then it is settled. We will set out tomorrow at dawn. We will defeat the enemy at their castle then move on to their other smaller camps. The next day our army, with its new additions, marched on. The leader of the new men said to one of my soldiers, This is good revenge. We did not join the enemy army by choice. When we at first refused to join, they threatened

us that we must join or pay the price. We decided to join and escape when we could. Soon we reached the enemy s castle. The enemy, tired and sore after their losses in my castle s fire, was quite surprised when we turned up to attack them. They did not put up a very good fight and surrendered after their wall got knocked down. It was a clear victory.

Nutzo by Sarah Matson, age 10

By Katya Suh, grade 7

Leaping Frog and Jumping Frog By Jack Paral, Grade 4, age 9 Once upon a time, in a peaceful lake, there lived a community of frogs and toads. They lived happily until a messenger came with some bad news. Falcon has stolen the king of the rock spirits and now we are going to be attacked, he shouted to Grandpa Toad and the clan of frogs. Then he fainted on the spot. Will somebody please move this young frog, and then we must discuss this crime, said Grandpa Toad in a low grumbly voice. When the brave twins heard this, they immediately both got a smile on their faces. Now the twins were not always troublemakers, but they did have a reputation to keep, and they both thought that sneaking away would make it permanent. That night, Jumping Frog and Leaping Frog s father brought them to their house. He told them of their ancestor, the Great Jumper, who was favored by the gods and was granted the power of jumping and leaping. Their father said, And ever since, the power has been passed down through the family and now you have it too. Because you are twins, you will stick together forever. The gods are on your side. Now go if you want to, for your mother will not approve of this. Go! Then the twins hopped out of the hole with their supplies and started their quest. As soon as the twins were out of sight, the twin whose name was Leaping Frog tried to use his power. As soon as he did, he disappeared. The second twin, who did not know what happened, panicked until his brother came back shivering. He managed to say, I leaped all the way to Antarctica! Then Jumping Frog said, Let me try. Then he disappeared. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a green blur came out of the sky and said, I went through the clouds and saw the whole world! Awesome! said Leaping Frog.

Now that we know our powers, we can continue. And so they did. Twenty minutes later, they came to Gray Wolf. Gray Wolf was lost, and so he joined the group to help find his pack. [Gray Wolf was not bad. He was just a hunter. He did what he needed to, but he did not eat his friends or his pack.] Now the trio was ready for Rock Mountain, which was their final destination. At the foot of the mountain, they found a chasm fifty feet wide. It surrounded the mountain like a moat. There was no bridge across. Then Leaping Frog said, I will hold our rope, jump to the other side, and we will make a bridge. And so they did. When the bridge was finished it was ten o'clock. We better get to bed, said Jumping Frog. In the morning, they crossed the bridge and walked twenty feet just to find ten angry boulder spirits blocking their path. If we keep our distance, they won t attack. Now come here. I will jump us away, said Jumping Frog. He had trouble getting away from the rocks because when he tried, the rocks took pieces from their bodies and hurled them at Jumping Frog and Leaping Frog. But all of a sudden, howls pierced the night and a pack of a thousand wolves charged out of the nearby forest. The boulders noticed the wolves and, being smart, they popped away with a loud Poof! Now the path is clear, said Gray Wolf. Then the pack of wolves, including Gray Wolf, left. There was no hint of evidence that a pack of wolves had ever been there, all except for a pair of bright green frogs in the middle of a snowy wasteland hopping randomly and going to nowhere in particular. A few minutes later, they came to a spot where they heard a faint struggling sound, like sandpaper rubbing on a pillow. The strange thing was, it was coming from the inside of the mountain. Then the twins saw a trap door hidden under the snow. Let's check that out, said Leaping Frog. And so they did.

When they were safe, Jumping Frog said, I m going to look around. You stay here. When he came back, Jumping Frog said, I think we re going to need the sword. Okay, said Leaping Frog. Then Leaping Frog handed his brother a big glowing purple sword. Perfect for bargaining, Jumping Frog said, and they climbed out of their hiding spot. It turned out that the twins didn t have to be that sneaky, because all the guards were fast asleep. But it was hard to navigate because the snores were blocking off their hearing, so they couldn't hear the source of the struggling. Nonetheless, the room was small so the twins easily found the creature that was making all the sound. It was Falcon. Falcon was struggling to get out of a trap while holding a mossy piece of stone. The trap was obviously made for Falcon. It was a magical net high above the ground. Falcon was too proud to notice such a trap. He easily would have flown into it even if he saw it. But the brothers weren't interested in the trap; they were interested in the stone. The stone looked like it had been cracked in many places but glued back together with green glitter glue. The twins walked over to Falcon. Do not take this from me or I will curse you! Falcon hissed. Jumping Frog said, We will take that. Thank you very much. Then he took the stone, muttered some magic words, and it disappeared into thin air. Then in front of Leaping Frog, a stone appeared with a note. It read: Thank you for restoring me. I am very grateful. I now offer you a trade. This portal stone will take you home, but it will only work if you give me the sword. Answer in one minute or else! Falcon said, Take me with you, please! Jumping frog said, We will take you... to jail! And that is the story of Jumping Frog and Leaping Frog!

Reaubee and the Missing Dagger By Rebagrace Lee Grade 6, age 11 â&#x20AC;¨ There was a loud knock at the door. I, Reaubee ( Rey-u-bee ), woke with a start. I am Merlin s apprentice. I opened the door and saw one of King Arthur s henchmen outside.

The King s dagger got stolen! said the henchmen. He sent me here for help. I stood at the door, dumbstruck that anyone would dare steal something from the King, and said, I will ask Merlin if there is a spell or something I could use to help find the thief and return the dagger. I went inside to wake Merlin and ask him if he knew what spell I could use. I was surprised when Merlin walked out of his bedroom fully dressed in his robes. I approached him, and he looked surprised to see me awake! What are you doing up? asked Merlin. I heard a knock at the door and answered it. What are you doing up? Especially fully dressed! I exclaimed. I was going to check on something. What were you going to ask me when you came up? replied Merlin. Oh, right! I said, remembering why I went to find Merlin. One of King Arthur s henchmen came and asked for help, because the King s dagger was stolen. I told him I would help find it and was wondering if you knew any spells or recipes that could help. I explained to Merlin. I think any spell or recipe you know can help you, he replied. I stood there, puzzled about what Merlin meant. â&#x20AC;¨ Go to the palace and find out who took it, Merlin told me. Still confused, I went to the door and to the palace with the henchmen. The guards led us to King Arthur and his knights sitting around the Round Table, pondering who might have taken the King s dagger. They looked up when they

saw us enter. King Arthur looked behind us like he was expecting someone else to enter. Where is Merlin? He should be here, demanded the King. He said he had to check something, so I came instead, I said while I bowed to the King. Even though I am not Merlin, I can still help you look for the dagger. I was hoping he would be grateful that at least I came. Have you asked everyone in the palace were they last saw the dagger? Yes. I went around and asked them myself, and they all replied that they had last seen it in my bedroom in it s case, replied Arthur. There was only one person I could not ask, because he was sick today. Who? I asked.   Craig, replied Arthur.  Now I was thinking. My mind was running one hundred miles an hour. I could make Truth Cake! I exclaimed.  What? asked everyone in the room besides me.  Truth Cake is a recipe that makes people tell the truth! I explained. Oh! That might work! said King Arthur. Do you have Elysian Sugar? I asked. It is in the truth family. It s a magic ingredient. I will need it if I bake the truth cake. Also, can I use your kitchen? I will need to use it if I need to give Merlin the cake. I don t know if we have the sugar. Yes, you can use our kitchen, replied Arthur. I was led to the kitchen and started baking. A chef gave me the sugar, so I could make the cake with magic. Once I made one cake, I made another and another and another until I could feed the entire town. Then we went out and fed people slice after slice, asked question after question, and had them take bite after bite. Soon we had asked every person except one: Merlin. We went to his house, and we gave him a slice. Do you know where King Arthur s dagger is? I asked.

Yes, Merlin replied.  I was surprised.  Can you give it to us? I asked. Yes, replied Merlin. He led us to the back yard and opened the shed. We looked inside, and Merlin opened a box. There was the dagger! My jaw dropped. Why did you take it? I asked. It was a test to see how much magic you knew and to see how you solved problems, he replied. I turned to King Arthur, who was grinning. Did you know about this? I asked. Yes, Arthur replied. I took the dagger out of the box and handed it to King Arthur. So far after that, I have not had another test.

The Elysian sugar is from a TV show called Just add Magic. They use it in Truth Truffles, so I changed it into Truth Cake.

Scarred By Eva Aldrin Yashko Grade 8, age 13 The tunnel was completely empty. The sound of busy fairies was replaced by quiet moaning. The DarkRiver was clogged with deteriorating bodies, their blank black eyes staring uncomprehendingly at the sewer roof. It was like they were trying to see through to AboveGround. Every once in a while, like a mouse darting out of a hole in a deserted house, a DisposalFairy would walk up to the disgusting water and drag one of the moldy corpses onto a leaf. Then the skimpy creature would grab the stem of the leaf and, with a small grunt, heave the leaf toward the Tunnel of Eternal Floating. The eerie lack of life would blanket the tunnel once more. But if one waded a little bit farther through the sewers, they would find a small sub-tunnel, tucked away to the side, bursting with life. Everyone get out of the way! Git! The two HealingFairies cut through the mass of fairies huddled at the entrance to the pipe. You folks know not to gather in masses! Get out of here before you all get sick! The two Healers were each holding one side of a leaf. EveryFolk instinctively backed away in horror of what lay on that leaf. It was a spasming sack of skin and bones curled up in a fetal position. The thing was shaking and shuddering involuntarily and covered with large red welts. It was a fairy infected with the DarkPlague. There were anxious whispers from the crowd as the Healers lifted the leaf into the pipe. The quivering mass of welts screeched as it was dragged away into the HealingPlace. The name did not quite fit though, because EveryFolk knew that there was never any actual healing there. The mortality rate for the DarkPlague was 100%. Fizz was shuddering visibly. Whatever they had in store for her, she was pretty sure it wasn t good. She felt the raised, X shaped scars on her cheeks. The nine other fairies she was with had the same, identical marks. They were all ScarredFairies. The Queen herself had personally scarred each, and they would all have to pay their debt to Her Royal Highness. What that debt was, no one ever knew beforehand. Fizz had heard a couple of stories about

ScarredFairies being forced AboveGround to spy on the HumanFolk and never being heard of again. There were other tales of the Scarred having to tame wild rats for the WarriorFolk and being torn to pieces in the process. Fizz could see that what she was thinking was passing through the minds of the other Scarred in the room too. Whatever they would be forced to do, there was a high chance of being killed. Of course, some Scarred survived, but even though they were allowed to return to their former places in society with a clean slate, they were usually traumatized for a very long time. For two years now, Fizz had been expecting to be called upon to pay her debt, ever since Queen Aspen had Scarred her after what was now known as The Royal Dress Incident . She was still training with her squad as usual to prepare for Operation Beehive, but everyone knew she would be replaced sooner or later. Then, this morning, she had been awoken from her mat by two HealerFairies and a stern looking WarriorFairy holding a spear. The looks on their faces said it all: It was time for Fizz to pay her debt. Fizz had felt her stomach flip flop like a bucking rat. But she had stood up on unsteady feet and allowed herself to be led to the little sub-pipe where she now stood with the other Scarred. She shifted uncomfortably, not making eye contact with the disfigured faces around her, and they looked away in turn. The WarriorFairy in front of them, the same one that had escorted her to the sub tunnel, looked straight ahead like an emotionless statue. Follow me please. through the dark pipe.

A HealerFairy was gesturing for them to follow her

Well, here we go. Fizz thought miserably as the WarriorFairy prodded her and the rest of the Scarred deeper into the pipe. They walked for about thirty minutes through the filthy water until the Healer gestured for them to stop at a moldy, obviously used, rat-fur mattress in a drier corner. Everyone must sniff the mattress, she announced. There was no sign of humor in her stern tone. Fizz choked back laughter. This had to be joke. She looked around, trying to see the rabid rat or the tunnel leading AboveGround. There had to be something. Her heart was thrumming now, waiting for the real threat to jump out at them. ScarredFairy #1 stepped up confidently, grabbed the mattress with both hands and plunged his nose into the damp fur, taking a long deep sniff.

He coughed suddenly and doubled over. The other fairies backed away immediately as he hacked and coughed, then stood up. Sorry bout that. Just got a little mold in the sniffer, he told them in a gravelly, hoarse voice. Then he quickly stepped back into line. The Healer s face was expressionless. Scarred #2! Please come forward. The next fairy came forward, took a long sniiiiiiffffffffff, then stepped back into line, obviously relieved. It was not until Scarred #9 was snuffling at the fur that Fizz realized something was very, very, wrong. Scarred #1 was looking ill, he was clutching his bulbous head and moaning quietly. The Healer was just staring at him and muttering under her breath, like she was taking mental notes. Then, with a howl of anguish, Scarred #1 fell to the ground and rolled over, revealing a large, bright welt on his leg. Oh no. No-no-no-no-no. Fizz felt the blood drain out of her face and the world started to spin. She started to back away from the infected mat, only to be pushed forward again by the Warrior s spear. The other Scarred were screaming now, some were staring open mouthed in horror, at the large welts on their own legs and arms. Fizz opened her mouth to yell out some nasty words, but the rat fur was stuffed into her mouth and she was forced to inhale. Everything was dimming as she bent over in a fit of coughs. The taste of mold in her mouth was unbearable. She spit into the water several times, still feeling like she was going to faint. Now every other fairy was writhing on the ground, with welts as large as a fairy s eye. Fizz quickly scanned her own arm for the telltale sign of the DarkPlague. Her arm was a translucent gray; you could see blueish veins running beneath the skin. But there were no welts as far as she could see. Now the Healer was staring directly at her, waiting for her to drop to the ground at any moment. But as Fizz stood there by the river, she found that she more or less felt fine. She scanned both her arms, then her legs. No welts. Dumbfounded, Fizz felt her forehead. Pretty cold. She didn t have a fever either. Had she not inhaled enough of the mat? No, that was impossible. The Healer was starting to look excited. She was muttering under her breath at a fast pace. Fizz thought she heard the word: Magic. But then the Healer shook her head, like she was banishing the very thought. Because everyone knew

that magic did not exist any more. Maybe it had never existed, for all anyone knew. ----Queen Aspen could barely breath. The smell of death was too much. She had to come here every two weeks to receive a progress report, although she would much rather be sealed off in her own quarters so as not to expose herself to the plague. The only reason she had ventured into this disgusting, cramped pipe was for her kingdom s moral. She was standing in a corner of the HealingPlace, wearing protective wrappers that covered every inch of her body instead of her usual more revealing gowns from the days AboveGround. The sounds of moaning and coughing overwhelmed the room. Aspen could barely stand it. She wished they would dispose of the infected as soon as they got sick, just send them off on the Tunnel of Eternal Floating. But no, they had to keep them alive, use them to try to find a cure. Of course, the HealingFairies had been trying to find a cure for four months now. The Queen had secretly decided there was no cure. She squinted her buggish eyes to stare out at the oceans of infected. The lucky fairies were laid up on rat fur mattresses. The unlucky ones had been dumped onto candy wrappers or leaves. So many infected were crowded into the pipe that Aspen had to press herself against the wall, making sure that the feverish fairy spasming directly in front of her would not breath on the royal shoes. Your Highness? I have an update. Aspen looked down and saw a very skinny fairy with squinty, watery black eyes. He wore a rat fur toga with a single strip of blue ribbon tied around the middle, signifying his position as Head Healer. You re late for the briefing, Twitch, Aspen s icy cold voice did not disguise her irritation. Twitch the Healer nodded quickly, Yes-Yes please forgive me Queen. But there s a new development. The Queen narrowed her eyes, It better be something goo for you to keep me waiting this long. She tapped the dagger at her side ominously. Twitch s already sickly gray face turned white, No... Please, that s not necessary. This is a breakthrough. We have found that there may be a chance that...that some of the population may be immune to the DarkPlague.

Queen Aspen removed her hand from the dagger, Give me more information. Twitch nodded earnestly, obviously relieved, We exposed ten healthy ScarredFairies to an infected fairy s rat mattress. Nine of them fell ill within ten minutes. But the tenth- Twitch grinned nervously. She never fell ill. That s impossible. No one can escape the Plague s wrath, Aspen scoffed. I have never lied to you during the seventy years I ve held this position, and I m not lying now, Twitch insisted. The Queen sighed and then examined her translucent fingertips. Very well. I give you permission to test all remaining ScarredFairies to determine what population of my kingdom is immune. You may then study those who are immune to find a cure for the Plague. Twitch quickly performed a sweeping bow, Thank you, Queen.   How long do you think all this will take? Aspen did not look up from her fingernails. At least two weeks for the testing portion. And at least three months to develop a cure, most likely longer.   That s too long. We must strike now, The monarch looked out on the waves of coughing sick. What do you mean, my Queen?   My Warriors are being cut down in droves by this infernal Plague. The only way to escape it is to flee AboveGround. I will put into action the plan that my ancestors have been planning ever since we were forced down into these infernal tunnels. I will order the start of Operation Beehive. To Be Continued....

Fruit Salad By Elizabeth B., age 12

The Girl Cady McDowell Age 12

He smiled at the flower peeping through the cracks of the clay building. So pure. So innocent. A flash of beauty in a world of famine and evil and war. He reached over to pluck it, but stopped. It deserved to live. He didn t need to rip its roots from the ground just to hold it for half an hour, and then forget it. Something caught his eye. Flash of motion. No sound. No heavy breathing. No footfalls. There was no way she could have run that fast. But she did. Without a sound. Like a cat. Before he knew it, he was running through the buildings, trying to catch her. He imagined his fingers grabbing her throat. Taking her away. Taking her away to a place she couldn t run from. She wasn t human. She wasn t. He could put an end to her. It. He raced through the buildings. He would find her. He would end the mad chase through the clay village. He ran until he was worried whether he was alive. The feeling of hatred, and fear of all things different coursed through him like some sick adrenaline. Like some spider fat with past meals sat in his heart, feeding on the evil in his soul. There she was. Just a flash of who she might be. A small, bony, demonic girl. With a patterned dress.

Her shadow was not her own. It depicted a large, snarling creature with huge wings. Stop! he cried out. The girl whirled around, her dark, dirty hair whipping unnaturally high before settling on her back again. Her eyes were dark pits of evil. Evil. They were shiny and afraid. She should be. She seemed only nine years old. Stop, he whispered. She hissedĚśthe sound echoing unnaturally loudlyĚśand made to run again, but he threw himself ahead and reached for her head. He flew backwards in a rush of heat. The she-demon screamed something in a terrified language. You stupid creature! He got to his feet, dizzy. Horrible, wretched demon! I m going to kill you and rid the world of your disgusting species! She screamed and fell back as he advanced. Her horrible eyes were wide, and she was shaking as she scrambled back into a wall. She pleaded something in her demonic language. No, he whispered. You won t live. She squawked at him, her eyes narrowing, and the fear turning into pity. She pitied him.

He pushed away from the thought with his own hate. No, he repeated. You will die, demon.

She just cocked her head at him. And shook her head. And put her finger to her lips. Then he found he was not there. She got up and turned into her own shadow, vowing never to be caught again.

The Girls from Nowhere By Castille Dennison Age 15

Artwork - â&#x20AC;&#x153;Waterfallsâ&#x20AC;? by Sumayya Abdul-Rahman age 12

When I started running, I didn t know where I was going or what I was doing. All I knew was that I had to get away. Away from the sympathetic smiles, the fake hand gestures, the suffocating silence all around the crazy school hallways, and everything else. I hated the whispers the most. People knew I couldn t hear what they were saying, and they always forgot I could read lips. Secrets were not easy to keep when I was watching. I tried to ignore them, but they always filled my heads at moments like this, moments when I couldn t stand it anymore and I tried to run. I wonder why she s even here. Shouldn t she be in the class for special students?"

I bet she s actually fine, and she s just faking. I wish she d stop staring at us. Her eyes are so creepy. Don t you think they look like they re seeing right into your soul? It s so weird. I picked up my pace, like if I ran hard enough I wouldn t be able to see their lips moving anymore. I wanted to scream, I know I can t hear you, but I still know what you re saying! But I knew they wouldn t care. They d just whisper even more. And they never understood. When they find me, they re just going to act all disappointed. They ll pretend I m misbehaving for trying to escape. They ll tell me I should be grateful that I m lucky enough to be there. But if they were me, they d understand.

I finally reach a part of the forest I don t recognize. I push forward, scanning the trees in front of me, until suddenly I stumble into a little clearing. On the edge of the clearing a little creek stands, it s water rushing past. I ve been told creeks sound cheerful, like little water sprites singing in bubbly little voices. But I don t know what bubbly voices are like, and I ve never heard singing before. Still, sometimes I imagine creeks are filled with little blue fairies, smiling and chasing each other through the water. I walk up to the creek and sit next to it. I hug my knees to my chest and watch as the water rushes by. I close my eyes and, for the first time since I started running, I let the tears fall down my face. Soon, I can t tell whether my face is more wet from crying or the droplets splashing up from the creek. I stay quiet though. Even though I can t hear anything else, I ve always been able to hear noises I make, although they all sound broken. I get very uncomfortable when I break the silence blanketing my whole life, so I don t talk much, and when I do, it s almost silent. I rest my chin on my knees and gaze into the creek, which is blurred by my wet eyes. Suddenly, I shoot up, peering at the woods around me. No, it can t be. I force myself to stop crying, but even when my sobs have slowed and stopped entirely, the crying continues. It sounds clearer, somehow. Not like the normal screeches and groans I hear coming from my own mouth. I lower my gaze back to the creek. It seems like the crying is coming from...inside the creek. But how could that be possible? And how could I hear it? I slowly crouch down next to the creek. Hello? My whisper is so quiet I can t even make out the short groan that I ve come to associate with it, but suddenly the crying stops. I stare down into the creek, not moving for a few moments, but nothing happens. It must have been my imagination. But as I make to stand up, I hear a soft noise. Did you just...speak? I gasp. There s no way. It s the voice I always imagined went with a woman, with tenderness, with soft singing. But I m... I can t... I m deaf! How can you... you re not supposed to hear me! No one can hear me! I heard you crying, but that s not possible! And how are you in the creek? I shake my head. Where are you?

I m not in the creek! I thought you were! I m sitting right here on the edge of the creek! But how can you hear me? I ve never made sound before! I try, but no one ever hears it. I always try to listen, but no matter how loud people shout I can t ever hear a word they re saying. "But you can hear me. How do I even know you re real? I can t see you! I can t see you either! But you know what, I don t care. If you can hear me, I want to talk. No one s ever been able to listen to me before. Well, I might not be a very good listener, I tell the voice, I ve never listened to anything before. It s ok, just as long as you can hear me, that s enough, I smile, and when I don t respond, the girl starts to speak. I don t always understand what she s saying, so I stop trying to make out words and just listen to the sounds. I hear pain in her voice, pain from a place where no one understands, no one respects her. I hear hope in her voice, hope that someone will care, someone will give her a smile that isn t fake, isn t pitying, isn t mocking. I hear loss in her voice, loss of love, of family, of respect. I hear anger in her voice, anger for the things no one understands, the things no one will ever tell her, the lies and whispers always passing right before her eyes. But most of all, I hear emptiness and relief; I know she understands how it feels to have no one care what you really want, to have no one understand what you re facing, and how hard it is when all you want to do is belong, to fit in and have people to trust and love. She knows how hard it is when no one will believe that you hate your lack of communication more than everyone else on the world, when all you want is to speak, to hear, to understand, to be understood. Her musical sounds tell the story of her life and of mine, and she goes on and on, with me hanging on to every note. I m not sure how long we were sitting by the creek, but I began to feel a change in the air. I knew our time was running out. I knew soon we would have to return to the nowheres we had come from, with my suffocating blanket of silence and her drowning whirlwind of noise. I could hear her voice slowing, the sounds fading, and I knew the song was ending. Silently, I leaned over the creek, stretching out my hand, until my fingertips were millimeters from the

water. I could feel energy sparking from the water, and I slowly reached my hand down until I touched the water. And in that single moment, I felt a connection form between me and the girl on the other side. That moment felt like eons, and I held on, knowing her life was so much like mine I wouldn t be able to tell if I switched with her. Our hearts became one, our hurt, our love, our hope, our longing pulsed through me, I saw her in the water, and for a second I saw my face in the water, staring shocked up at me, and then the connection broke. I was back to myself. I was back in the woods, without a creature in sight. When I turned around I began to retrace my steps, without giving a single glance back at the creek. But as I made my way back through the empty forest and into my life, I realized I wasn t alone anymore. And I had a feeling the girl wasn t either.

Daffodils By Shifaa Abdul-Rahman Grade 5, age 11 The Daffodils I looked out to see, The daffodils, weeping quietly, solemnly. A heavy weight, on their shoulders, sinking down,down,down.

Hibiscus by Elizabeth B., age 12