The All Saints' Review

THEAL

SAINTS’REVIEW SPRI NG2013

s hor t s t or i e s , poe t r y , s e r mons , dr a ma s , &phot og r a phy

byt heAl l Sa i nt s ’ s t ude nt s&f a c ul t y

Introduction Dear Reader,

Thank you for picking up another issue of The All Saints’ Review. We are enormously excited about the variety in this edition, which includes student work from all three divisions here at All Saints’.

It has been good year, writing-wise, at All Saints’ Episcopal School. Early in 2013, sophomore Kelly Carroll represented our school admirably when she read an essay at The Dubliners Colloquium held at The Oakridge School. Upper School English Chair Nancy Crossley and English teacher Amy Wright took a dozen students to support Kelly and to listen to readers from area schools. Kelly’s essay focuses on James Joyce’s “Paralysis in ‘A Little Cloud.’” Please check out her fabulous piece in this issue. In it, she writes,

Fear of the unknown can be paralyzing, as Little Chandler finds out. He owns many books of poetry, and often aspires to writing some verses of his own. However, he cannot bring himself to write. He fears that he is not good enough to succeed; moreover, he fears the intimacy implicit in writing poetry of his own and publishing it. Any endeavor in writing requires the author to reveal aspects of his or her personality in that work.

No doubt every writer who has ever taken pen to paper has been besieged by doubts (OK, except for maybe the stunningly prolific Stephen King). After reading Kelly’s work, I wondered if there was a little of Joyce himself in the main character, Little Chandler. It seems, however, that Joyce did not have much difficulty writing and publishing. Instead, he is credited with wisdom such as, “Men’s mistakes are the portals of discovery” and, “The important thing is not what we write, but how we write…the modern writer must be an adventurer above all, willing to take every risk, and be prepared to founder in his effort if need be. In other words we must write dangerously.”

Joyce would certainly applaud the efforts of Mr. Power, who completed a 100 mile trail run then wrote about it for this issue. I would say that this qualifies as being an adventurer and in writing “dangerously.” And I love the notion of writers “being prepared to founder” – it’s not always easy to embrace this notion, but Joyce’s comments certainly make sense in terms of maturing and improving as a writer and as a person.

So, here’s to writing dangerously, Scott Jarrett Advisor, The All Saints’ Review

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FICTION NON-FICTION POETRY SERMONS DRAMA

Special thanks to: Gracie Chambers- Layout and Creative Design Nathanael King- Editor Scott Jarrett- Advisor Proofreaders: Michael Power, Stephanie Wooten, Ted Arrington Cover Photo: Mackenzie Shoppa Award winning photo in the Fort Worth Country Day black and white photography show

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Photo by Genevieve Merrill

Hard Ivy

By Jessica Ivy

Photo by Carolina Martinez

The man looked down as the sloshing waves

gathered the Africans up in a line. The burly man

washed up against the side of the old wooden ship. He

now known as Hard Ivy took some shaky steps onto

was a big burly man, well-built and strong, with a fierce

the icy shore; it was a lot colder here than it was in his

expression. The boat smelled foul and the conditions

homeland. The men and women who would be slaves

were worse than the land he came from. He rubbed

were lined up in a barn and told to stand still. The slave

his deep ebony hands together as best as he could in

masters came and looked them over with wary eyes.

his shackles. Where was he going now? What about

They forced them to open their mouths and examined

his family? Would he ever see his native Africa again?

their teeth. Then the man from the boat pointed to

All he knew was that he was trapped on a boat; he was

Hard Ivy and said, “This one’s premium stock; he’s a

captured by strange men whom he didn’t know, and

fighter! I’ll sell him for 1,000!” “How about 900?” said

who spoke a foreign tongue. All he could do was sit

one man. “Sold!” said the other.

back and watch the rocking waves.

Days passed on the treacherous journey. Many

put him in the back of his wagon and rolled him down

men and women became sick and died, but not this

a cobblestone street towards the plantation. When

man. As the strange foreign men oversaw the cargo

he got there he was put in another barn. There were

at the bottom of the ship, they came to the big burly

some more foreign men gathered in a circle. “FIGHT,

man who was still fit and strong—even after the harsh

FIGHT, FIGHT!” They were chanting. Hard Ivy was

conditions. One of the foreign men came up to the

pushed into the center and there was another slave;

ebony man and looked him up and down. “You’re not

one who was tired and worn out with blood on his jaw.

a worker, you’re a fighter!” he said. “Look at him!” he

“FIGHT!” they kept chanting. He didn’t want to fight,

shouted to one of his friends. “We’ll definitely never

but they kept poking him and threatening him with

lose a bet with him! Your name is Hard Ivy.” Hard Ivy,

their will. “FIGHT OR DIE!” they said. He delivered

the name sounded foreign and strange in his mouth,

the first blow, and so it began. The hard life of a fighting

but this was his life now.

slave.

“Land ho!” yelled one of the crew men. They 4

And that was that, he was sold. His new master

It Always Rained on Tuesday

By Ali Kaitcer

It always rained on Tuesday. There was nothing

dinner. But there is no rain.

incredibly remarkable about this fact, simply because

Why is there no rain?

that was the way it had always been. Every Tuesday, it

rained. People put out their plants, buckets, and small

socially acceptable to go out in pajamas. It’s cold

children to see a bit of the storm. The small children

outside, so she puts on a jacket. Wrenching open the

didn’t stay for long, of course, but the neighbors

window, she looks out. It smells like rain. The air is

generally thought it was a laugh.

damp and heavy; maybe she missed it.

The ground is dry.

As far as anyone knew, there had never been a

Meredith gets dressed, because it’s hardly

Tuesday during the course of which it hadn’t rained.

Tuesday was rain day, and that was that. There was no

people and having a bland life, this is one of the most

question. It’s impossible to argue with that fact when

exciting events in Meredith’s young life. No rain? On a

fat raindrops roll down your windows, gently tapping

Tuesday?

to remind you of the day. No one knew precisely why it

rained on Tuesdays, just that it did. It did and had and

television. She switches it on, but remembers she forgot

most likely always would.

to pay the bill. Cursing under her breath, she reaches

for the telephone. It’s not there. She’s lost it.

Which begs the question: What makes today

Having been raised in a bland house by bland

She closes the window and rushes to the

any different?

This is not Meredith’s day.

When Meredith wakes up, it’s not raining.

She ambles to the refrigerator. Food typically

Nothing unusual, sometimes the storm will take a while

solves most of her problems. As the door opens, a

to roll in. So she goes back to sleep. Also per the norm.

ghastly smell rolls out. Everything in it is months past

Meredith sleeps quite a bit, being both unemployed

the expiration date. There is nothing.

and an adult with little to no responsibilities.

After catching a whiff of the refrigerator, she isn’t

particularly hungry anyways.

However, when Meredith wakes again, it still

isn’t raining.

Having nothing better to do, she carefully wriggles into

That can’t be right.

her pajamas and crawls back into bed.

She rolls out of bed, only to find herself on

When she wakes up again, it’s seven in the evening. It’s

the floor. The fall isn’t a long one, but the floor of her

finally raining.

apartment is cold tile. She shivers. She needs a rug, but

Meredith is unaware.

money is tight these days and a blanket does the trick.

It is better that way.

Until her rabbit decides to wad it into a nest and sleep

Or so they tell themselves.

in it.

The lack of rain is a temporary glitch in the

But that is beside the point.

program. She wasn’t meant to wake up today. It’s

Meredith pulls herself up and shuffles over to

maintenance day, and Meredith is supposed to sleep

the calendar. Tuesday, ordinary Tuesday. The clock. It’s

through those. The program is being repaired anyways.

three. Time for breakfast. Or lunch. Or maybe an early

No harm, no foul. So they think.

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Photo by Gracie Chambers

The Piano

By Tayler Weathers

Photo by Marshall Neve

Keys made of pure ivory, a rarity anymore,

music. Old men and women had sat at the bench with

toothed the large black creature. The ivory had

their hunched and decaying spines, picking out old

survived because of its yellowed state, a consequence

melodies that never left their heads. Families called

of the countless fingers that had paraded and slammed

it to celebrate and to mourn. But one moment in its

the hammers down, creating a glorious sound. Much

varied history stood out among all the others.

to the musicians’ dismay, the Middle C for some reason

didn’t quite work: it was weaker than the others. They’d

their glass long ago shattered and crumbled into dust.

be in the middle of a masterpiece and unable to stifle

Her arms were tightly crossed over a black pantsuit,

a chuckle or even a sigh at the pathetic little sound. If

fingers gripping her rib cage. A pale face shone in the

they looked hard enough, they could just detect the

sunlight trickling into the room through a demolished

grubby smudge of blood on the key from one man’s

skylight. Closing herself off to the world, she stared at

bleeding knuckles years before.

the piano. Her eyes skated over every nick and chip in

the finish that her brain already knew.

The instrument had been through quite a lot,

The woman stood just inside the double doors,

that was for sure. Small children had wiped their noses

then proceeded to play an awful selection of keys,

the thing before in her life. This woman didn’t know

sounding more like a hundred murdered cats than

how to play piano, but had always desired to learn. It 6

Yet she could honestly say she’d never touched

had been denied to her by her upbringing. Still she was here. Why? The question was not uncalled for; it was one she was asking herself at that moment.

The answer was simple. The piano called to

her. Over the years she had been privy to countless performances here in this very room, when its grandeur had been unmatched. She had stared at the strange accumulation of wood and wire and metal and ivory and felt and God-knows-what-else from her front row seat until her eyelids took the weight off her shoulders and sealed shut. A hand broke free from her rigid position to hover an inch from its polished surface, where a piece of music still lay. It was only a

Photo by Alli Papa

piece, not even a whole page, but she wanted so very much to touch it. To play it. To breathe life into this heartrending carcass.

She stopped herself before she could desecrate

the monument to the past. A deep breath filled her lungs and she closed her eyes to think better. More clearly. It didn’t work as well as she wanted it to.

Finally, the moment was over. The sounds

outside made their way through the echoes of the past and exploded in her eardrums. Workers shouted at each other and chuckled and machinery clanked and rumbled. A car stalled, waiting for her. Pulled away by Photo by Tami Clark

the noise, she left the building, not stepping through but shoving open the metal doors. In their honor.

“Take it down,” she declared, lifting her chin.

The head of the crew nodded and cleared the area, carting around a large red button that twisted the sharp knife inside her stomach.

Despite this grievous pain she got in the

expectant car and drove away as the one thing she had always wanted but never had blew skyward to join its creators.

Photo by Madelaine Brockway

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When the Moon Met the Sun

By Jessica Ivy

It was a cold dark night in Brooklyn; the cool breeze

like she was always seconds away from breaking. Daniel

blew past Daniel’s face, nice and easy. But he wasn’t

held her dumbfounded. What am I supposed to do? He

one for nice and easy, his life surely wasn’t. Daniel was

asked himself. Something in the back of his mind said

barely hanging on. He was heartbroken, at least five

he had to save her. He had to do something. He picked

times over. Each time he kept telling himself it would

up the fragile girl, slung her over his back and ran. He

work, that he could give his heart away again, give it

felt a sudden surge of strength he never knew he had.

another go. But, each time his heart had been shattered

He had a single mission and in his mind it was all that

worse and worse until it had become fine glass powder.

mattered, she was all that mattered. Where’s the nearest

Beyond repair, and raking his insides. He rubbed his

hospital? He thought. Down 7th about 2 blocks, I can

tan hands together, it was July, and his feet hit the

make it, I can make it, I better make it.He rounded the

pavement with a steady thumping rhythm. The wind

corner and came upon the tall building. Her breath

blew the reddish straight brown hair that covered one

was getting weaker and she was trembling on his back.

of his hazel eyes. Even though his feet started to feel

Gotta hurry. He burst through the hospital doors, met

numb he kept walking. He didn’t even know where he

with surprised stares. Who expected to see a seventeen

was going, but then again he never did. He just walked

year in a hoodie bursting through the doors with a girl

down the streets of Brooklyn like a ghost, a lost soul.

on his back? “Help her!” he practically shouted. “She

He felt like a walking travesty. Other people might be

passed out in an alley, she’s having trouble breathing,

worried, But Daniel wasn’t. What more could anyone

“Help, please.” They quickly got her on a stretcher and

do to him? How much more pain could they put him

wheeled her into the back. “You can leave now young

through? Daniel walked through past an alley, hands

man,” said one of the nurses. “What you did was more

in his pockets, when he heard a small whimper. He had

than heroic, but you don’t have to stay.” Part of him

nothing better to do, why not investigate? He slowly

wanted to leave; girls were nothing but trouble, caring

walked down the alley, wary of his surroundings, and

was nothing but trouble, feeling again would only bring

stumbled across a silhouette. Her hair was long, black,

him more pain. But a part of him felt some connection

and glossy, like a raven’s wing. Her skin was ghostly pale;

to her. He didn’t know what, but something. NO, part

she was not skinny, but fit and about 5 foot tall to his 6

of him shouted. You’ll just get broken again, hurt again.

foot 4. But, what most struck Daniel about her were her

But for some reason he uttered the words “No, I’ll stay”.

eyes. A deep dark blue, almost pitch black. She looked

Why did I do that? He thought. Why did I set myself up

up into his eyes, pleading, like she was opening his soul

for this again? But now there was nothing left to do but

to her in one stare. He felt his heart thrum in his chest,

wait, wait for the girl with deep blue eyes.

and his knees go weak, but just from a stare? Who was she? He thought. “Please…” she whispered before she passed out. He caught her in his arms and stared. Even though she wasn’t skinny, there was frailness about her, 8

Life

By Kelsey Ramsey

You lean your head backwards, closing your eyes. Once

the organism was stretched. Now it was thin and big,

you feel warmth upon your face, you open your eyes.

similar to a serpent but with frills. Sticking your finger into the scales of the creature, now it was poisonous.

Here you are God, overseer of all. With a puff of breath

Good, you could already formulate possible ideas

the winds swirl and spread, creating clouds of storms.

regarding the descendants that would come off of this

Half of the island Illuma was destroyed in the tsunami

species.

that spread down the Gamma Ocean. It was beautiful.

Lightly you landed upon the mossy ground, fingers

Oh darn, it was late already. Letting the beast go, you

tracing patterns into the flora. In the future scientists

closed your eyes again.

would research those patterns and try to comprehend

1 second.

why they formed that way. You were just fond of the

2 seconds.

patterns.

3 seconds.

4 seconds.

Now running past you was a species indigenous to the

5 seconds.

island. It had long hind legs with short fur and wide ears. The eyes were blind after a genetic mutation

They were opened. Regretfully you take the goggles

occurred during Cheruba period. They were a fond

off and set them back into their case. It’s time to leave

species of yours so you decided to kill off their predator.

your chair when a pop-up on the computer alerts you.

Now they were populating and spreading throughout

Smiling, you laugh. You have been informed your

the island fast. Soon they would start to starve and die

ranking has been changed to the third best player in

off, and then the best would survive and breed.

the game. Perfect.

Pointing a finger at a particular one with sharper claws

In 1 week your planet would be ready.

than average, you marked the sire. That would be the

In 2 weeks you would rise to the top.

one to start the new adaptation. Growing bored, you

In 3 weeks you would take control.

walked to the beach and headed down it. The sea was

In 4 weeks the cattle would be dead.

calming down, with several injured bodies scattered

In 5 weeks you would be gone.

throughout the floor. What a pity, it would seem that the last few members of the Echole species were killed.

The power button glowed bright like a red star before

You bent down on the soft, purple sand and picked up

fading in an instant.

a bone.

There on the top was a tiny organism, newly made.

Fascinating. Using your thumbs and pointer fingers, 9

Photo by Marshall Neve

Off the Coast of South Africa

By Will Shipman

Off the coast of South Africa floated a rickety old fishing sky appeared as if it were going to erupt at any moment. boat. It was a typical fishing day out on the crystal clear The sea grew angry; jostling the boat around as if it were waters of South Africa; but this regular day was about ta ragdoll. Winds began to howl like a wolf straying to change for the worse. Dense, salty aromas from the from its pack. It now looked like the stormy sky was ocean filled the air. Pelicans were torpedoes, diving about to swallow the earth whole. Lightning pierced in the water and successfully coming up with fish in the ill-omened sky that appeared to be descending their beaks. An ominous, eerie feeling hung in the air. unnervingly close to the boat. The boat tossed crazily Growing unusually dark, the sky turned grey and the upon the turbulent waters. It had not yet undergone wind slowly started to pick up. Abruptly, a drizzle of any harm, however the worst was yet to come. rain turned into a biting cold shower. Like a volcano, the

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The Blizzard

By Kort Keunstler

It was a bone-chilling night in the blizzard-stricken city people, knowing they could go nowhere, sat with their of Fort Worth. Heavy flakes of snow fell to the ground, hot cocoa by the furnace. The ice and snow pounded concealing the ground under its white cloak. The spine- anything in its path, and when it did, it demolished it. tingling wind made the trees briskly sway from side Cars, mailboxes, flowers, and even some windows were to side, some snapping under the intense pressure. damaged in this outrageous storm! It took the town, The only things that sat warm and cozy were the light gave it a beating, and went away. After that one night filled homes. Illumination, killing the still and dark the storm disappeared and Fort Worth never had a night, streamed from the windows like a car’s bright problem like it again. headlights. Smoke billowed from the chimneys as

Abandoned Amusement Park

By Bryce Earley

The wind raced swiftly across the ground like a ravenous sounds of enormous, animated crowds flowing into the snake seeking its prey, and the timeworn Ferris wheel park like crashing waves have all vanished. Even the creaked leisurely in the wind. No green grass covered spinning teacups have no chuckling children to twirl the barren ground, no soft clouds hung in the dull grey about inside of them. A sudden gust of wind invades sky, and no life was apparent. An old forsaken ticket the park and causes the roller coaster to slide down its stand sat forlornly at the entrance of the fair grounds. mighty slope like an Olympic skier, and come to a crash It seemed as if it was begging for occupants to enjoy at the bottom. The coaster screams down its wooden its rides, and howl merrily with delight. No longer did tracks, sending an eerie squeal throughout the ghostly smells of buttery, fresh popcorn, or sizzling hotdogs park. The sign that reads, “You Must Be 54” to Ride twirl throughout the once-loved amusement park. This!” swings east to west on a rusty nail and creaks Moldy food and long-discarded remnants of sugary faintly in the wind. There is definitely no amusement treats formed a gooey coating on the maroon brick to be found in this park. pathway that wound throughout the park. Sadly, the

Photo by Tami Clark

Photo by Kasey Grona

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Photo by Tami Clark

Murphicus Rex: An Exaggerated Tale

By Hudson Cleveland

(Back story: as a joke, I frequently come up with new, forest-related nicknames for our Shar-pei, Murphy. This story arose after my younger brother, Ty, asked for a bedtime story about an elephant and Murphy. The other characters include my brother (Bennett) and me, though they are short parts. Other bits of information are that Murphy is rather aggressive, and barks at anyone who so much as walks by our house (literally). Now, dive into the satirical land that is my consciousness!)

(Extra side note: I am relatively sure that the only words my 7 year old brother, for whom I wrote this, understood were: and my variant usage of the name “Murphy.” Continue onwards, random reader!)

One day, as Murphy the Canine Wood Nymph

anywhere) and proceeded to spray Murphy the Loud

was hopping about his backyard kingdom, there arose

right in his muzzle with a compressed bottle of ether!

a strange rustling from the Bushes from Whence Murphy Sickens Himself. Murphy, the curious little

Five hours later, Murphy the Canine Overlord

wood nymph he was, bounded frivolously, tail tightly

of Small Indigenous Creatures regained consciousness.

curled above his hind-quarters, towards the mysterious

“Errrrrghhh,” Murphy the Great croaked. Then he

rustling noise. All of the sudden, a large, smelly

noticed that he was speaking and understanding

African elephant erupted from the bushes, creating

interjections. “What the deuce!” he cried.

a cacophonous uproar. Murphy the Dashing Sharpei leaped into action against the enormous intruder,

Murphy the Now-Anthropomorphic looked

barking loudly and creating a cacophony of his own.

about. He seemed to be in some sort of super-villain-

Then, the elephant halted its rumbling about, stood up

like lair, with flashing computers (one showing a

on its two back legs, and began to speak!

3-D representation of his anatomy) and chemical laboratories set up lackadaisically. Murphy, stunned

Murphy the Beautiful Wood Nymph took a

at his newfound ability to speak and the unfamiliar

deep breath, and then responded in the normal way any

environment, opened his mouth, when he was

dog would respond to an anthropomorphic elephant:

suddenly cut off by the Oz-Man, who all of a sudden

he barked even louder.

had changed his accent to Australian.

The Fabulous Murphy, of course, continued

barking, strafing to and fro at the elephant who spoke

“One more question,” Murphy said warily in a

in an English accent, because, as most people know,

classy Southerner voice.

dogs are not all that good at speaking or understanding

English.

probably your first question. Well, as I told you before,

“Ah, yes, why I brought you here. That was

when you had the cranial intelligence of a vehement,

Murphy the Conqueror of Rabbits, though,

rambunctious, sly little puppy, there is a plot being

could understand English about as much as he could

hatched by the lil’ critters that hide in fear from your

two paragraphs ago. The Oz-Man, not one to be

wrath in the Cleveland Backyard. The leaders of these

trifled with, whipped out a strange canister (which, in

assaults include: Miss Ladybug and her faction of

itself, was strange, for he had no pockets of any kind,

Spotted Red Commandos, Grass Hoppah and his aerial

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force, Sergeant Thumper and his squad of Ironclad

tore up his stuffed elephant. Hudson walked by with

Bunnies, and, last but not least, Robin Brood and his

his headphones firmly placed over his ears. He glanced

aerial squadron of Depressed Song Birds. Are you up

outside, uttered a grunt meant to be taken as a laugh,

for this challenge to secure your Throne King Murphy/

and continued walking.

Murphy looked up in an epic slow-mo fashion and

then said in an almost Christian-Bale-Ba

by glass panels, Magnificent Murphy shot down a

Outside, where the actual view were not skewed

plump songbird. The enemies were closing in fast, with

The Oz-Man led Lord Murphicus o’er to a

too many to take out for just the two anthropomorphic

blank stone wall, which slid open revealing a panel of

mammalian beasts. The Oz-Man shouted over the loud

weapons and gadgetry that was not there before. Upon

buzzing, “Hit the bomb!”

this panel was a dog-flight-suit with a jet pack attached

(uses green fuel, patent pending), multiple Gatling

and hit the button. He and the Elephant dove into the

guns, lasers, rifles, pistols, sniper rifles, knives, swords,

bushes while a nuclear holocaust rained down on the

pesticides, traps, and a mysteriously labeled “Miniature

pests of the Yard.

Atomic Bomb.”

Murphy the Worthy claimed all of these

door. Upon taking a look outside, he saw that Murphy

advanced weapons, placing them into a size-

the Imperial had torn several holes in the ground.

distributing vortex-container.

Gasping in the silly manner that the Bennetts of the

Murphicus Rex looked down at the mini bomb

Inside the house, Bennett then strutted by the

world gasp, he stormed o’er to his parents to alert them

Murphy was instantaneously teleported/time-

of Murphy’s shenanigans.

traveled to that exact moment and Oswald joins him,

decked in all camouflage and, for no apparent reason,

and then gave him a rub behind the ears. “Great job,

mascara. The two warriors were armed to the teeth with

friend!” he proclaimed, reverting back to his fancy

state of the art weapons that would not be introduced

English accent. Suddenly, the colors in the spectrum

to actual militaries for a few decades, and those two

of Murphy’s vision began to contort, dizzying the

wing-men were ready for an ultimate battle, consisting

fantastical dog and subduing him physically.

of multitudes of Kamikaze aerial troops and ironclad

ground forces.

normal brain functions are returning and you are

All was silent as Murphy the Golden Warrior

quickly losing your intellect and militant stratagems

and the Oz-Man both peered into the surrounding

and oh so much more. Well, until we meet again,

landscape. Then, a low hum emitted from all around

comrade!” And then Murphy was back in his Forested

and they were on them.

Domain. Then, the door opened and the Cleveland’s

A battle of EPIC proportions ensued, with dogs

stormed out as one, eyeing the suspicious pup. But

shooting lasers, elephants screeching war cries, enemy

Murphy the Glorious just sat there smiling and wagging

bodies falling, and guns blazing more than the midday

his tail.

sun.

Inside the house, Ty Wilson Cleveland watched

The Oz-Man clapped Murphy on the back

“Oh no,” Ozzy sighed. “T’would seem your

And that is the story of how Murphy the Wood

Nymph retains his eudemonic demeanor when he has

as, from his perspective, Murphy chased a rabbit and

done something naughty.

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Cameron Phelan Award submissions The Cameron Phelan Creative Writing Scholarship, established in the spring of 2007, honors the memory of Cameron Phelan, All Saints’ Class of 1999. Cameron died suddenly in the summer of 2006. Writing and humor were Cameron’s passions and his legacy will bring laughter to others for many years to come. He wrote, “Doing the things you truly love to do takes commitment and consistency and it’s rare that you profit from it…unless you love accounting or something.” This year’s entrants were asked to write a journal of exactly 1000 words in the voice of a person pictured in National Geographic.

Feet Touch the Sky

By Emily Marcho April 6, 1937

doesn’t like that though. Molly doesn’t like a lot. Molly

Mama says Molly ain’t real. Mama also says that gets mad when I have to go home. Molly still has to hold

fairies ain’t real, but everybody knows that fairies is real. the swing.

If fairies ain’t real, then who makes all the pretty things June 13, 1937 in life? Molly says that pretty things don’t matter if you

My feet almost touched the sky today. I love

got friends. Molly’s my friend. She holds the swing. swinging. My Papa works the fields right next to our Molly makes the swing not crumble and fall when I’m swing and watches Sue Anne and me playing ring swinging. Molly don’t like to read. But Molly likes to around the rosies. Molly sometimes joins in, but Sue sing. I like to sing too. Molly is my friend. And Mama Anne doesn’t like to hold Molly’s hand. Molly never says she ain’t real.

smiles. Molly says that if I can touch the sky with my

May 8, 1937

feet, I can hold the swing too. It would be nice to hold

Molly made Mama go away. Molly said that the swing too. We could hold the swing together and

because Mama said she ain’t real, that Mama wasn’t watch other people touch the sky. Molly never wears right for the world. You can’t just say people ain’t there different clothes. I ask her if she wants some of mine, when they are. Molly holds the swing. And Mama but she tells me my clothes are too small for her. I think doesn’t. Mama doesn’t do anything now. Mama lays in she is silly. My clothes would fit her better than they fit a hole in the ground because Mama ain’t a believer. I myself. Molly has scars on her hands and face. I ask her hope Papa doesn’t start saying Molly is fake. Sue Anne what they are from. She doesn’t answer. She just holds says she can’t see Molly either, but Sue Anne don’t the swing. know anything. Sue Anne is only three. I’m five. I know July 30, 1937 everything. I know that two plus two is four and Sue

Molly did some tricks today. She made Sue

Anne only knows the Swing Song. “Up in the air I go Anne touch the sky with her feet. Sue Anne could never flying again, Up in the air and down!” Sue Anne sings do that before. Now Sue Anne don’t sing the Swing it all the time, even when she’s not on the swing. Molly Song anymore. Now Sue Anne don’t swing at all. Molly 14

to put it in her hair but it just falled out. It went clean through her. I musta missed Molly’s head. Molly says she likes black cats. I want a kitty. I want to touch the sky with my feet. Molly says she can make my feet touch the sky. But she didn’t do it for my birthday. She says I hafta wait. Even if I’m six now.

November 18, 1937

I didn’t swing today. Molly got mad. Molly got

really mad. Molly made Sue Anne go away. Sue Anne ain’t with Mama though. Sue Anne got burnded. Sue Anne turned black. Like the cat Molly likes. I miss Sue Anne. Now I can only play ring around the rosies with Molly. And Molly is mad because I didn’t swing today.

It’s only me and Papa now. Molly says maybe soon I can touch the sky with my feet. But I still have to wait. I don’t like waiting. I looked out the window at the swings. I looked at my swing. It was still. But Molly still held the swings. says her Mama did tricks too. I wish Mama teached me tricks like Molly’s Mama. But Mama’s in the ground.

Molly says that was another one of her tricks. Papa still works in the fields. And Molly still holds the swing.

August 22, 1937

It’s almost my birthday. Molly said she would

make something special for me. Molly said she could make my feet touch the sky. Papa don’t work the fields anymore. Papa only stays at home. Papa says he don’t feel good. Molly says Papa lies. Lying ain’t good.

Everyone says so. So Papa ain’t good then. Molly don’t like not good people. Molly says she likes good people like me. Molly says she can make my feet touch the sky too.

September 26, 1937

Sue Anne doesn’t play ring around the rosies

with me anymore. She don’t like to be near Molly.

Molly says that Sue Anne is too young to understand.

But see, I’m six now. I know what two plus two is. I can understand. I picked a flower for Molly today. I tried

December 16, 1937

I want a new dress for Christmas. Mama went

away, so now I don’t have any new clothes. And Molly still wears the same dress. She needs some clothes too.

Maybe Papa could be good instead of bad and buy Molly some clothes. Papa hasn’t been good at all. Molly says Papa lies and sneaks and cheats. Molly says Papa ain’tno good for anything. Molly says I should swing more often. Molly says my feet can almost touch the sky now.

Come on feet! Touch the sky! I can’t wait for Christmas.

January 12, 1938

Molly says I can touch the sky with my feet now.

So I did. And now I hold the swing too. Now I can do magic like Molly and her Mama. Molly said I’m special now. I like being special. I can watch people swing.

Molly says her birthday is soon. I never knew Molly had a birthday. She said she was born in 1686. I thought she was silly. Molly always says silly things like that. Molly also says her Mama got burnded like Sue Anne. Molly’s Mama was burnded on a stake though.

15

Cameron Phelan Award submissions

To My Dearest God

By Betsy Shelton

“Oh amazing Father who blesses me with so much, like

I know the answer Mr. Currow. What a silly question.

Nascar and my game box. You, who made the sun, the

That’s SO easy. Have you finished your quiz yet? I’m SO

stars, the sky, the universe, Skittles, Peeps, M&M’s...

bored. Oh everyone watch as I twirl my hair every five

M&M’s are delicious by the way, but the red ones are

seconds with my beautiful, graceful, elegant, hot-body

so much better...uh, What was I saying? Oh right, um,

hand. Twirly Twirly! I’m too good for you Mr. Mathew.

amazing Father, my favorite god, the only God really,

Oh, watch as I put on my lip gloss. Don’t you wish you

not that you’re not my favorite, I mean, well anyway,

could kiss me? Tehehe!” I hate her. Oh! Sorry. I forgot

please help me pass this test, that I am about to take

I’m not allowed to hate people in prayer no matter

and might not have studied for. I mean I did study, of

how much they ask for it. Except I’m pretty sure I’m

course, just not that hard. Well, harder than twitchy

allowed to hate Hitler... Please forgive me for that thing

over there, but of course not as hard as Miss Know-

I just thought about Rachel. I don’t really hate her. In

It-All Rachel in the front row. She always studies too

fact I think she looks very ...well You know. I’ll tell her

hard. And it just makes her look bad. Like what kind

later she looks great. Honestly! Pinky-promise! Does a

of a person makes straight A’s? A weird person, that’s

pinky-promise count if one of us only has metaphysical

who. I mean, who does she think she is anyway? “Oh

fingers? Did I mention I love Your work? The weather 16

looks great outside! I really like what you did with the

know math? It’s not like everyone solves equations all

whole black storm cloud thing. It’s a great color for You.

day in heaven. They sing. And I personally plan to be

So anyways, God, I was wondering if you could send

one of those “Hey look! I’m flying on a cloud” guys. No

down one of those guys in heaven who has a doctorate

one has ever said, “God, I have worked hard so that I

or PDH in math to come and help me. Or is it a PHA?

will be able to perform logarithms for You in heaven,

PMS? No definitely not that! GOP? BS? SOB? ADHD?

where with the ever dressing Mary and Saints, I shall

Just wait, it’ll come to me… Right, so an angel would

praise you forever with my rad math skills”. Okay,

really be appreciated. You don’t have to go through all

maybe Newton said that, but no normal person like

the fire and light and stuff. Just a gentle whisper with an

me ever has. Normal people like to pray more normal

answer every now and then will be fine. It’s not cheating

things like, “Please God, please help me to remember

really. Don’t worry about that. I know all this stuff,

that there are 360 degrees in a circle and that to convert

honest! Cross my heart and swear to You I do! Wait, so

degrees to radicals you multiply the bachelor’s degree

if everyone swears by You, (that is capital “You”), then

by apple pie and divided it into fourths. Or at least I

who do You swear on? “Yes I will send a Savior to you,

think there are only four people. OH NO PLEASE

young pattawon. I swear by Me I will.” That has to be

HELP ME AHGH!” Of course, I would never cause you

rough. Especially since you already have to deal with the

that kind of stress right before I test. I’m a pretty chill

idiots who wanna win the lottery. I bet You just want to

guy. All I need is a few answers. So… You still haven’t

scream,” It’s rigged! Give it up already!” People should

given me a sign about the whole “helping me out here”

really pray for more sensible things, ya’know? Well, of

thing. Now would be a great time… Wow, You really

course, You know. You’re omnipotent and stuff. I bet

are the strong and silent type. But You probably get that

you could even throw answers into my head during

a lot. So we’re good right?... God?... This is where you

this test. That could be totally awesome! How ‘bout we

answer…Hello?...”

try that for a change from the lame “here’s an angel” thing. Why bother with transportation worries when

“Darling Heavenly Father, It’s me, Rachel, again. I just

you could just let the answer appear on my paper? I’ll

wanted to thank you for the rain today and for the

just set my pencil on my desk and you could make it

opportunity to better myself through school. If you

move. I trust you. I mean, I will always trust you with

could help me show how well I studied and learned this

the really important things in my life and this is pretty

material I would be very grateful. But more importantly

important. It could affect my whole life. I might not get

let what I do glorify You. Also if You could get Mathew

into college depending on my average and how little the

to stop muttering to himself, I would be able to focus a

teacher hates me. Even worse, one more failing grade

lot better. Thank you. Amen.”

and I could get kicked out of school. Seriously! How would that make You feel? You could be the sole reason my life gets ruined. Do You really want that guilt on You bringing you down for the rest of Your life, well, that is existence? That’s a really long time if You haven’t figured it out by now. Besides why would You care if I 17

18

Photo by Preston Percival

An Exercise in Confidence and Doubt

By Michael Power, ASES Lower School Faculty Member

After two months of slow recovery, the

fatigue and bodily distress have all but run their course and I’m beginning to feel normal again when running.

The images from that weekend are more recoverable than ever and chasing them down is almost as fun as the experience itself. The twists of trail, the moan of the pine bending in the breeze, the light fragmented and cut into a million pieces by the forest; all of this and more flood my memory. Like clockwork at six in the morning, packs of runners bolt with the starting gun as they shiver off the frost and spring into action. Yawning creatures salute the slow sun while their movements trace shadows on the forest’s soft dim floor. Here I am, beginning my second attempt at finishing the Rocky Raccoon one hundred Michael (left) and his brother Jacob cross the finish line

mile endurance run on this chilly yet pleasant February morning.

For me, foot races of this length can be more about mental fortitude than physical strength. Sheer human

power and quick pace are the dominion of much shorter races, and rightly so. Running all day and night require an extreme patience. Moving above desired pace will undoubtedly make for trouble later in the race. Finishing one hundred miles in less than thirty hours is a lesson in confidence and doubt, of reason over emotion, and an ability to conserve and use energy properly. Learning to continually move and face the fear of the unknown are what draw recreational runners like me to this distance and it’s thrilling to be outside all day doing what you love. The formula is quite simple: survive the distance or crumble in its jaws. Moving past discomfort one can find pleasure in nature and regress into what we once were: wild and keen. We are animals after all, and there is no endurance sport that I know of that illustrates this primitive experience so entirely.

Rocky Raccoon is one of Texas’ oldest and most loved trail races nestled in the sandy and root ridden trails

of Sam Houston National Forest. It is a National draw every February and fields almost seven hundred and fifty runners from all over the world. This race was selected to host the 2014 National one hundred mile championships next February which is a very prestigious selection and a real compliment to the growing sport of trail running in Texas. It’s a fast course for more competitive runners and a great first for beginners. I was there in 2011 when the world record for one hundred mile trail racing was set by a young speedster by the name of Ian Sharman who came in at the 12:44 mark. That’s fast folks. As the race director Joe Prusaitis likes to ironically point out: “Rocky Raccoon is built for speed and comfort”. I suppose this could be true compared to many other races in the mountains or at 19

higher elevation but the thought of comfort on any

silly optimism and a lighthearted attitude.

one hundred mile course seems strange. Each runner

must run a twenty mile loop five times under thirty

Flashing back, I did not make it to the finish line on

hours for an official finish. That is the name of the

that one hundred mile attempt in 2011 and it has

game. Speedsters who run under the coveted twenty

haunted me since. The night broke me down in so many

four hour mark get a special award and a heaping

ways. In addition, six weeks prior to the race I broke

amount of pain.

my toe playfully chasing my youngest daughter, and

obvious sprinter, around the house. I had floundered

Staying positive throughout the day and night is

in the last stages of preparation, but made the attempt

essential for an attempt at a finish. We laughed and

regardless. Running the night hours with temperatures

jogged along at a slow but steady clip side stepping

in the twenties is difficult enough, but when the food

roots and letting gravity work for us on the downhill.

and fluid won’t take, a bout of hypothermia is highly

Only forty miles into the race and my positivity was

probable. Dealing with the thought of freezing to death

exposing itself in a wide sun-drenched smile. More

in the forest seemed difficult at first and then much

often than not runners struggle with the psychological

smarter later on. Disappointed, I had to throw in the

aspects of this distance, and keeping a good attitude

towel after several loops.

can be a huge physiological asset. It is expected that it is going to hurt and cause bodily damage. How much

On average, I race over four marathons or ultra

attention and energy that these struggles are given

marathons a year and have for over a decade. Other

make all the difference and all endurance athletes

than burning out in the middle of the night at El

handle it differently.

Scorcho during the summer of 2008, this was my first

time to quit. Not finishing in 2011 became a turning

There are typical moments during ultras where

point in my quest for a one hundred mile finish. Failure

feeling good is relatively easy and the message of

visits in many forms on the trail, but on that night it

what’s in store is slow coming. There are many ups

came as a slippery ghost. I knew I would be back in

and downs both in a physical and mental sense.

2013 to settle the score and this time I would finish or

Runners must weather the highs and lows and trust

die trying. There seemed like no alternative. I could not

that if things aren’t going well circumstances are

possibly invest another year’s worth of training to go

likely to change. Conversely, if things are running

back and get squeezed again in the grasp of the night.

smoothly, you can bet it won’t last long. Most runners who are experienced at this distance claim

This year’s race would merely produce a sixty seven

that one hundred mile races don’t really start until

percent finishing rate which is abnormally low for a race

mile sixty. That is usually the point where the body

with a non-weather event. Runners would experience

has mostly deteriorated and the mind must take over.

lows teetering in the mid forties with a rebounding high

I understood it on this beautiful Texas afternoon in

of almost seventy five on Saturday. It doesn’t get much

Huntsville State Park as the miles seemed to float by

better. Trail races don’t get cancelled for lightening

so seamlessly. However, I knew the night was close. I

or thunderstorms, freezing temperatures or intense

could feel it rushing on with speed and I faced it with

heat. It’s all part of the challenge. I have finished races 20

in all kinds of extreme conditions and it seems to

on the dark side, forms become strange and deceive

flip a primal switch in performance often lighting

through distance and shape. Concentration is a priority

adrenaline that runners can exploit and siphon off as

and one false step or miscalculation could spoil months

necessary. The running last year in 2012, which I did

of preparation.

not attend, greeted runners at the starting line with blast of thunder and torrential downpour. Reports

Every four or five miles there are aid stations which are

from friends of mine who were there said they were

stocked with about anything you could possibly need

sopped throughout the morning hours. Running wet

or want. Hot soup is golden nourishment and grilled

always seems to bring a special type of torture.

cheese is a booster shot. Pancakes and noodles are quick energy too. Flavor is always amplified and eating

Back on the course evening sets in with the dark

voraciously is natural and customary. I eat and drink

purple of the sky melting the green of the pines into

what I can then travel on. The volunteer network at

black. I am approximately at mile fifty five by dark

Rocky Raccoon is awe inspiring. Veteran trail runners

and my smile has only slightly evaporated. Trees that

cook up delights and tend to the wounded. Stumbling

seemed so friendly earlier in the day now come alive

upon an aid station in the middle of the night is a

and straighten their backs like sentinels. Remaining

revelation in pleasure and pain and lingering too long

upbeat, I welcomed the night with meditative

can spell trouble. Misery on the trail is a contagion easily

breathing. This would be serious fun I thought as

caught and hard to avoid without careful attention.

I moved deeper into the tunnel of the night. The numbing pain and steady exhaustion are normal

Those last pre-dawn hours are hypnotically difficult

now and without it runners cannot adjust to the

to remember. Time seemed suspended within the soft

fluid realities of what is taking place. Adaptation and

fog. A quick pumping walk was all I could muster in

adjustment are critical skills in endurance sports. As

the thick air, but I was moving and that was all that

evening dug deeper into the night conditions were

mattered. Feet get wrung and every step is a wave of

becoming physically tricky, but my mental energies

electricity that consumes the spinal column and all the

were holding up surprisingly well. I thought about

strings of the body. Often feet don’t exist and movement

the years I’ve spent preparing for these moments and

is a fluid and continuous float. Pressing on with fifteen

I concentrated on success.

miles to go, I grip the deepest and darkest part of the

night and hold on during the last loop.

Midnight comes as an intruder, a surprise element that can invigorate or fracture. Over eighteen hours

The first whistle of wildlife on Sunday morning was

of running at this point made another eight seem

revitalizing. I knew the finish line was only a few hours

like a dream. One hundred lumens of light on the

away and my instincts were alive. The resulting wave of

headlamp lit the path in box form. Illumination

warmth flooded my senses as I picked up the pace with

dances in strange outlines and my struggling

renewed strength. I desperately wanted the sunrise to

vision rapidly encounter the hazards. In daylight,

happen instantaneously, but it came as slow as a freight

perception and reaction happen simultaneously

train under heavy load. The whole world opened up one

on the trail illuminated in perfect detail. However,

second at a time. My eyes unlocked as the sun returned 21

to my side of the world. Witnessing two sunrises on the again was a real defining moment for me. So many same run is very humbling. All of these trees, aged so

pieces of preparation and race day readiness must come

well, will outlive me. The sun will shine and burst for together for success, but having the will and courage years on end and rise the same way.

to finish is all that I really needed. t Experiencing the process and then finishing the challenge is immensely

As much of an individual sport as this is, the camaraderie satisfying. Realizing that doubt, struggle, and failure among trail runners, the shared experience, and group can often build the blocks for future confidence and mentality is very much a democratic practice. We all

ultimate success is a lesson well learned and I will carry

share the joy and suffering as well as the success and

it with me for a long, long time.

disappointment. Running long distances with seven hundred people on a trail or thirty thousand people on the streets of some premier marathon bring to life

"Life is like a metal, placed within the furnace of misfortune. The closer we are put to the fire, the stronger we become."

a common understanding that transcends normal experience. It reminds us why we are here. Vitality and the simple gift of movement are so basic yet cherished.

We are alive because we move and we move because we can.

The finish line seemed so far from three hundred yards.

The generator and cow bells were deafening sirens.

Those last steps were not as emotionally driven as I had expected. I desperately wanted the feelings I had turned off to save the race to return in great and crushing waves, but they did not. It was a peaceful dream, a strange and quiet end to a wild ride. As I crossed the line in 28:33, Joe handed me my finisher’s buckle as he slapped me on the back and jokingly said “Well it took you long enough”. With my hands on my knees, I responded “but isn’t that the point Joe?” We had a nice laugh and shared the bliss as we made our way to the medical tent.

It took me years to gear up for this race and there were many times when I thought it was out of reach. Not finishing in 2011 tore me up, but I learned that looking at difficulty and breakdown with optimism is essential for any accomplishment. When competing in endurance races, one has to be prepared for the possibility that it may not be your day. Coming back to make the attempt 22

-Garrett Carr 12th Grade

Paralysis in “A Little Cloud”

By Kelly Carroll

Photo by Gracie Chambers

A man called Little Chandler tells a piece of

that he is not good enough to succeed; moreover, he

his story in “A Little Cloud,” written by James Joyce. In

fears the intimacy implicit in writing poetry of his own

this story, Little Chandler dislikes his current position

and publishing it. Any endeavor in writing requires

in life as a clerk in the King’s Inns in Dublin, doing

the author to reveal aspects of his or her personality in

simple desk work. Meanwhile, his old friend, Ignatius

that work. Little Chandler does not desire to expose his

Gallaher, has elevated himself to an important station

deepest feelings, only for them to be rejected. And yet,

in the London Press. Chandler meets with Gallaher in

even as he fears the idea of writing, he yearns to do so.

a bar to talk, their first meeting in eight years. Gallaher

The meeting with Ignatius Gallaher only brings his

tells stories of his travels across Europe, weaving tales

old desires to the forefront. Gallaher has used his

of wonder and mystique; Chandler, who once aspired

talent in writing to overcome his rough and tumble

to poetry, realizes that he could have been as great as

adolescence. He has since traveled Europe, meeting

his friend. However, he could never bring himself to

all sorts of people and seeing many different cultures.

compose an original piece to showcase his talent, and

Little Chandler finds himself envious of his friend,

lost his opportunity to become great.

wishing that he could be the kind of man Gallaher is.

Fear of the unknown can be paralyzing, as Little

But Little Chandler, unlike his outgoing friend, chose

Chandler finds out. He owns many books of poetry,

to stay in Dublin instead of venturing outward. He

and often aspires to writing some verses of his own.

feared the outside world, instead choosing to marry

However, he cannot bring himself to write. He fears

safely, have a child, and live a domestic life. Now, of

23

course, Chandler regrets that decision, and wishes that

success. I assume that, if I succeed, I will be forced to

he had ventured outward. He finds himself bound to

write something even better than what first brought

his pretty wife and perfect child, chained to the perfect

me recognition. This assumption raises the doubt that

example of domesticity. Little Chandler sees Gallaher

I might not be able to write a piece better than the first.

traveling the world, and realizes that he could have

If that happened, I would be consigned to the ranks

been just like him, if only he had not feared what the

of the one-hit wonders, fading away slowly from the

road might have brought.

minds of the public. Finally, I fear that all of my hard

As a spouse, Little Chandler feared leaving

work will turn out for naught, and that I won’t succeed

his comfort zone, Dublin. He married safely to a

at all. I worry that I will be shot down before I can leave

pretty lady and soon brought a child into their home.

the runway. I dread hearing that the stories, into which

After his meeting with Gallaher, he begins to resent

I poured months of hard work and tears, are in fact,

this domesticity. He wishes to see more of the world,

according to my reader, a waste of paper and ink. I do

which he cannot do if he is tied to a wife and child.

not want to be the author that the reader remembers,

Now, in the twenty-first century, this resentment of

only because the story was the worst he or she had ever

a marriage is less common. In this decade, people

attempted to read. These fears cause me to stick closely

have begun to marry later and later, waiting for just

to the boundaries of my comfort zone, rarely venturing

the right person to appear. Divorces are slightly less

outside its narrow bounds.

common, since marriages are normally founded on

longer relationships. Sometimes, a couple dates for a

more than, a marriage. People find themselves trapped

year or two before even becoming engaged; after they

in their own little self-made boxes, unable to escape.

announce the engagement, the wedding is sometimes

They wish for a different life, but feel as if they cannot

stalled for a few more months. While some college

attempt to achieve it. Little Chandler felt the same

sweethearts do rush into marriage head-first, most

way: he could not write poetry, afraid of failing, but he

couples wait to commit totally until they are sure that

hated his domestic life. The proverbial grass is always

they are compatible.

greener on the other side. People wish to achieve great

People fear leaving their comfort zones, both as

things and become famous. However, after they have

spouses and as writers. I myself dislike leaving the “safe

done so, they wish for their old, calm life again. They

zone� that I have created for my writing style. When I

can never move forward, dreading what could happen

am writing creatively, I rarely try to write a different

to them if they fail. But they can also never stay as they

genre than the ones that I have written before; I stick to

are, always aspiring to greater things.

the ones that I know best and feel comfortable writing.

When I do deviate from these set genres, I feel as if the piece will not be received well. If it is well-received, then I fear that it is not as good as something else that I could have written in a different genre. If it is rejected, I feel as if I have been personally insulted, since I poured my heart into writing something other than what I would normally attempt. Also, paradoxically, I fear 24

Comfort zones can be a trap just as much as, or

25

Photo by Allison Cribbs

Project Empathy

By Mae Maly and Joe Morris, ASES Middle School faculty members

Through our study and our service we try to find our purpose.

I am but one not two, so what can I do…

Volunteer – campaign.

So many times it seems in vain.

We are only teachers and they our students With much more knowledge on how to be prudent; Nonetheless, we all deeply care; So can’t we learn to help those who struggle…with what they bear?

Learn….Serve….Change This motto for less pain, Students ask where we start, So we the teachers take on the part.

We begin to seed the land With students’ helping hands.

An experience is a must; We nurture a new trust.

And one aspect that is soon to be, Will develop true empathy.

So we leave our homes, our beds, and our baths To sleep outside off the beaten path.

The night comes fast as the sun slips away “Who knows,” some say, “this is not too hard to play.”

But as the winds and cold begin to chill These thoughts not long to leave… those thoughts of “thrill”.

Now, on this late, late night in February Each one of us misses our Sanctuary.

The cheers die down, and the smiles turn to frowns, And we lose our heat to the hard cooling ground.

“Is it morning yet”, the desire grows, But sadly it’s not; Only sorrow we know.

I can’t believe this is how I feel As the simulation has finally become real.

26

Photo by Marshall Neve

Photo by Genevieve Hodges

Photo by Tami Clark

Photo by Kasey Grona

Inspiration

By Emily Marcho

A Moon Time Rhyme

By Hope Gutierrez

I need something in my life

When the moon fell

To get me through

The sun rose

All my longing and strife.

Light and warm with unending delight.

All the things I never knew

When the sun lay low

Will haunt me down and crush me,

as a soldier in the snow

And all the lies will turn out true.

the moon blooms overhead

Now I am blind, I cannot see

as if to shine a pathway for a nighttime tread.

I need something to light the way

It radiates a soft glow through the Milky Way

From darkness and disparity.

Flooding our side of earth.

All is still and silent

Can beautiful things not stay?

For it is night, While the moon shines above spreading light.

27

Eternity

By Hudson Cleveland Lead me in, to a false good,

I got addicted to eternity, addicted to the perfect,

it seems tasteful compared to what’s around me.

Then I overdosed on reality, overdosed on the

I follow you in, breathe in the divine temptress,

physical intoxication.

this is a moment frozen in eternity.

Time has a way of wanting its residents back, and

The principle is sound;

my body dissolves swiftly.

perfection, forever, is all that’s found.

Still trapped in eternity,

I want to stay, feel the need to stay,

white walls, wash white,

and I do.

physical sense is gone, all that’s left is mental spite.

Soon, it all deteriorates around me.

Eternity just eats you up,

Apparently, nothing can withstand eternity,

it wants you,

not even perfection.

it wants more finite things to hold in its infinite

I could leave now,

collection

but I have the inner deception that it all gets better

(we’re just animated knickknacks for the

from here on out.

impossible)

But no.

and when it decides its done, it’ll spit you out,

It gets worse.

corroded and insane, physically dying, already

The beguiling Siren began well enough,

mentally dead

but now I can see its jaws prepared to consume me.

(again and again)

I have become detached from reality,

But even eternity has to end,

I have grown too accustomed to sweet (overripe)

and when it does, everything that wound up inside

eternity,

it

The only thing left is escape,

(that metaphysical beast, bloated and rotting on the

but the only escape is a void-eternity.

inner,

I choose it, preferring insanity over gore,

a cancerous grin on the outer)

but I quickly forget all that I looked for.

is annihilated by what they once perceived as real.

Cannot eat, cannot sleep, cannot be, I can only think.

And that’s the worst part, because that is true eternity; not forever, which is a ridiculous temporal concept, but the one where you are alone, with literally nothing to accept.

Nothing is infinite though, and that lock’ll spit you back out from its keyhole.

I have arrived on the other side, warped of mind.

28

The World Misses You

By Tayler Weathers

“Is the world really like that?”

You ask me.

Oh, child.

Where have you been?

The world misses you.

They miss your golden laugh, Rising in the summer air More surely than a sprinkler.

They miss your little hands Tucked carefully in theirs, That smile you give when the sky darkens, Photo by Mackenzie Shoppa

And a storm is coming.

I never knew why the thunder didn’t scare you.

It certainly scared me.

But here we are, child, Locked away like princesses in a tower, And I’m powerless to free you.

Photo by Tami Clark

29

Fairytales

The Sphere

By Hudson Cleveland

By Emily Marcho

Nothing really mattered much anymore.

I see the emblem, the one made of green and

Life was just a

blue,

Fairytale

the one that looks like a colorfully molded clay

Waiting for its happy ending that would

tattoo.

Never

They are part of that rugged sphere,

Come.

Elemental and basic, but vigorous and feared.

He desperately waited

I see the dance, made of rhythmic lights,

Always in agony

the ones that look like bioluminescent sprites.

For the relief that would

They dance and dance across that rugged sphere,

Take him away from his tainted

Some fly about, others disappear.

World.

I see the worms, made of smooth gray,

He would sit in his corner

the ones that look like thin criss-crossed veins.

Reading things that didn’t make sense

They stretch and stretch around the archaic

Listening to the stars talk about their

sphere,

Shine.

Permanently assembled, to the skin they are

He knew it never mattered, nor would it ever

adhered.

matter

That sphere, it’s alive,

It was just something to keep him half alive.

That sphere, it’s happy.

His music left him vulnerable to any

I see the mist, made of darkened exhaust,

Attack on self-esteem or

the one that looks like fog and poison fought

Emotion.

each other and both lost.

He felt he had nothing to hide

They cover up the euphoria of the sphere,

But really he had everything to run away from.

Now the emotional state is unclear.

So his fairytale lingered on,

Through the smog I see the fire,

Making the days turn into

the kind that smells like burning liquid death.

Nights.

It explodes, there it all goes,

Sometimes it seemed

that handsome old sphere.

Unendurable,

I’m not sure, but I think as the thing crumbled

The fate he had been dealt

away,

But it always turned out that in the end,

I saw a single metaphysical tear.

Nothing really mattered.

30

Last Day

By Kelly Carroll

“Friends forever” we said But we created a rift One only mended On the last day I lived The wind gusted past Carrying bullets of rain But the curtains of water Could not ease my pain I tried to escape With nowhere to run My body failed slowly My heart weighed a ton But I couldn’t leave yet I had something to do I gathered my strength Thinking only of you I walked to your house Death dogging my step An open door: “I love you.”

And I took my last breath.

Photos by Marshall Neve

Thoughts On Life

By Emily Marcho

Time is relative to all things, The bee lives only as long as the honey, The marriage only as long as the rings, The success as long as the money.

Time is relative to all being, The flower lives only as long as its season, The mind only as long as it’s thinking, The thoughts as long as its reason.

Time is relative to all man, Birth as long as there’s death, Love as long as it’s cherished, Faith as long as there’s belief.

31

Echoes of the Past

Catch Up

By Tayler Weathers

By Hudson Cleveland

In their faces I see others

Better catch up, ‘fore you run out of luck,

Many others

Better catch up,

Ghosts who have haunted both my dreams and my

Better catch up, ‘fore you run out of luck,

nightmares

Better catch up.

So I have already determined who this child will be

Who are you, do I know?

Is that fair?

All I’ve seen is a fleeting umber

I don’t think so

(nothing but a shadow)

I don’t like people judging me

a flash of smile, before the world tears apart

But there it is

(just a harmless organism before the stab at the

The truth

heart)

The echoes of the past are impossible to forget

Placate your being and erode mine,

The ripple effect stronger than anyone thought

I can’t see you, I just assume you asinine.

So maybe we should stop and wait

You’re nothing to everything,

Hold still, even

a pseudo-reality, stand-in silhouette.

Because I don’t want perceived faults on my

You’re losing your place in the fray,

conscience

you’ve always been there, but so easy to forget.

There’s enough living there already

(Better catch up)

To this end I’ll keep my gauntlet on

A superficial hack at orthodox,

And never ever ever run

pulling away and running while everyone else

I’ll stand my ground in silence

just walks.

Keeping my waves calm

Who are you, do you know?

I’ll take you for your word

Do you know me, or am I just a show?

And what you’ve done

Who am I, do I know why?

Not what they say you’ve done

No one does, I just live to survive.

I’ll make sure I see you as you

Better catch up

Not as someone I used to know

(you’re running out of luck)

Not an echo of the past

Better catch up

But I have to ask:

(you’re running out of luck)

Will you do the same for me?

Better catch up, too late, you’re done.

32

Childish Things

By Emily Cook

Dark, young eyes Depth in her vision, Her eyes are older than Her heart She has thirteen years of age, A child.

Yet the maturity of A woman She yearns to be A child once more.

Photo by Gracie Chambers

To play with dolls and to play out Her dream.

She cradles her baby, not A doll, not A brother, Her son, her baby.

Photo by Cate Smith

At last she is granted a break.

The One Armed Violinist

A man offers to hold her child so that

By Tayler Weathers

With the school children,

The first thing he did

His music

She may play

When he got home from war

His everlasting words

Was snatch up his violin and

All gone.

Like many dreams,

Cry over the torturous wood

Because of one stupid mistake

Awaking is inevitable.

Because his loss only multiplied

The losses only multiplied

The game ends,

With every snowballing day.

With every rising sun

And she must return to

He hadn’t lost just his arm

And setting moon

Reality

He’d lost his fingers

For the one armed violinist

His grip

Who’d once had a pair

Half of his gestures

But now just had one.

33

34

Photo by Marshall Neve

Sermon on John 12:1-8

By Christian Broussard

Photo by Marshall Neve

John 12:1-8 12 Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. 2 Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. 3 Then Mary took about a pint[a] of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

4 But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, 5 “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.[b]”6 He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.

7 “Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. 8 You will always have the poor among you,[c] but you will not always have me.”

This has always been an interesting passage

washes feet with hair. In the one and three quarter

to me, and if I’m being honest, I had absolutely no

decades I have been alive, I have only known of one

idea what I was going to preach about when I saw this

feet washing with hair and oil incident, and it’s the one

scripture for today. But the way God works continues

we’re talking about. At first, I shrugged it off as some

to amaze me because the sermon he gave me for this

weird ritual from way back when, but nope, it was as

scripture is not only speaking to me as I try to decide

weird then as it is now.

what I’m doing and where I’m going after All Saints,

but it speaks to all of you who are in a situation not

she is washing Jesus’ feet with was worth 300 denarii.

too different from mine, and to those who are well out

Now that’s a year’s wages, and a lot of money. And

of high school.

Judas says in verse 5, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold

and the money given to the poor?” I think he brings a

So this woman by the name of Mary takes

But the weirdness doesn’t stop there. The oil

some oil and pours it on the feet of Jesus and begins to

valid point. Could the oil have been put to better use

wash His feet with her hair. Not with a towel, not with

than anointing the feet of Jesus? Is there a possibility

some ancient sponge, not with even with her hands,

that it would have done more good as money in the

but with her hair. I don’t think I’m alone when I say I

hands of the poor? That seems like a weird thing to

start to question the mental stability of someone who

say, and it seems like it’s almost a taboo, but I think it’s 35

a question worth being asked.

wait until she felt like the moment was right, and she

But there’s one more piece to this story. Verse 6 says,

wasn’t concerned with any publicity that would have

“He did not say this because he cared about the poor

come had she waited until His burial. She saw an

but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money

opportunity to bless Him, she had the ability to bless

bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.”

Him, and so she did, even if it was undeniably weird

So Judas wasn’t being a philanthropist, and he didn’t

and a little bit creepy.

have any interest in being a blessing to any homeless

person at this point in time; he was trying to get some

Philippians. Paul says if anyone is to boast about gifts

money in his pocket.

and prestige, it’s him. He talks about the gifts he has

on earth meaning everything to society but meaning

For all who were forced to, and the few that

Then I began to think about the scripture from

enjoyed, reading the Canterbury Tales, you are

absolutely nothing when compared to having the

familiar of the Nun’s Priest’s Tale. This male chicken

opportunity to worship the Lord and one day enjoying

(I had to paraphrase given the wide range of maturity

in His resurrection. And after letting that sink in, I

in this room) by the name of Chanticleer is the best

came to this conclusion. The answer to the question

cockadoodler in life, and a fox tells him to stretch his

is no. There is absolutely no better use of a gift than

neck out as far possible to make his singing match

giving glory to God with it. Although there might

and even surpass that of his father’s. And like a fool,

seem at the time a better way to take advantage of your

he does it and gets snatched up by the fox, and on his

gift, it’s result will eventually pale in comparison to

way to being a cockadoodler over pasta with a nice

what comes from you blessing the Lord with it.

sauce. But as the fox is running, some people with

pitchforks and other stuff chase him, and Chanticleer

people, and the friendly faces of others, there are

tells the fox talk some game to the pitiful humans, and

always people lurking around every corner looking to

like a fool he does and loses his melodic meal.

use your gift to their advantage. Paul warns us about

these people in Ephesians 4:14, where it says, “That

I remember talking about the difference

And despite the eloquent speech of some

between compliments and flattery; about the deceitful

we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro,

nature and ulterior motives of flattery whereas

and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the

compliments are simply sincere. I don’t think this

sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they

situation is that different. Judas wanted to sell the oil

lie in wait to deceive.” I want you to pay attention to

for the year’s wages for himself, but dressed it up and

where the Word says “and cunning craftiness, whereby

made it sound pretty.

they lie in wait to deceive.” So there are people out

But Jesus responded to Judas’s question saying, “Leave

in there in that big bad bold world with cunning

her alone. It was intended that she should save this

craftiness, and they are lying in every corner, crack,

perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have

and crevice waiting to use their sweet voice, their

the poor among you, but you will not always have

swag, and their frat-tastic awesomeness to make sure

me.” Mary saw an opportunity to bless her Lord with

your gift is ineffective in bringing God glory.

what was more than likely the most valuable thing

in her possession, and was defended by her Lord

and trust that He knows what He is doing when He

when her actions were called into question. She didn’t

uses it for His will, you don’t have to be as worried 36

If you trust God with what He has given you,

about you being taken advantage of as you would

not my pleasure to use those gifts to bring God glory.

have had you decided on another course of action. It

And when you use your gifts, whatever they might

is our calling as Christians to capitalize on any chance

be, to bring Him glory, you don’t have to worry about

given to us to show gratitude for what God has done

them being used in their fullest capacity. Everyone

for us, and everyone has a gift that’s as valuable, as if

has something to offer the Lord as well as their fellow

not more valuable, than that oil. Some have more gifts

man, and what you have to offer is far more valuable

than others, some gifts might be more popular than

than that oil and any other human possession, so don’t

others, and some might be abstract and weird like

let it go to waste.

Amen

being exceptional at washing feet with hair.

I’m not the most athletic person at this

educational institution, and I don’t sound that good singing, even when I’m in the shower. But I have been given gifts, and it is my duty and more often than

The Blood Covenant Sermon

By Dr. Bart Pointer, ASES Upper School faculty member

In the reading of the scripture this morning,

Both had something to offer the other. They would

we heard the word “covenant.” That’s a word we

compose a contract and mutually agree to abide by

hear a lot during worship services when we come

it. At that point they would engage in a covenantal

to the altar to partake of communion. The Bible

ceremony. It was extremely important to choose an

mentions numerous covenants: God’s covenant with

appropriate site, preferably a valley between two hills

Noah, Abraham, the Hebrew people, and others.

or a natural amphitheater. The purpose was to provide

The prophet Jeremiah speaks of a “new covenant”

a good view for the members of both tribes so that the

to come. Most of us have an understanding of that

ceremony would have an impact on all who attended.

word as meaning a promise or a contract between

people. In this case, the word “covenant” refers to the

or two sacrificial animals. Quite frequently we read

promise made between God and his people. When

about sacrifices involving a “fatted calf.” For the

Jesus broke bread with his disciples, he said “this is

purpose of this ceremony, it was essential to sacrifice

the new covenant in my blood.” In order to come to

large animals so as to spill as much blood as possible.

a full understanding of the depth of that relationship,

The sacrificial animals represented the sum total of

we need to take a look at an ancient Hebrew practice

possessions of both parties. They would slice the

known as the “Blood Covenant.”

animal down the backbone and lay the two halves

several feet apart, creating a walkway of blood.

Whenever two Hebrew tribes wished to limit

After choosing a site, they would choose one

their weaknesses, they would enter into a blood

covenant with each other. For instance, let’s say there

representatives for each tribe would exchange coats,

was a tribe that was particularly adept at farming and

which represented a person’s identity, strength, and

another tribe was known for being great warriors.

authority. Symbolically, they were saying “I am giving 37

Dressed in their finest attire, the

you all of myself; I pledge myself and my people

highlight of the ceremony, during which time they

to you.” Then they would exchange belts, which is

would eat a covenant meal. Upon sharing bread

where they kept their weapons. In doing so, they

and wine, they would say “this is my body, eat of it,

were saying that “I pledge my strength to you; your

and this is my blood, drink of it.” The intent was to

enemies are my enemies and I will defend you to

suggest that “I will feed you with my own body rather

the death.” After this exchange of garments, the two

than let you starve to death.” The key word in this

representatives would walk a figure-eight pattern

ceremony was “remember.” The Hebrew word means

around the two animal halves, ending up where the

to “mark” or “relive” something, to always remain

other had stood. This was symbolic of dying and

aware of this promise to each other. “I will always find

rebirth; “I am dying as myself and being reborn as

ways to empower you to prosper because I am right

you. My life is your life; I am one with you.” After

now standing in that blood with you, dying to myself

exchanging places, they would recite the terms and

and being born again with you. I will be selfless in

curses of the covenant. This “walkway of blood” was

my giving to you.” Such a commitment was typically

their way of acknowledging that if either tribe broke

binding for between seven and eleven generations to

the covenant, then may “God do to us what we did to

come. With God, our covenant is forever binding.

these animals.”

in Jesus Christ, we are reminded of God’s promise

To solidify this oath, they would raise their

When Luke writes about the “new covenant”

right hands and a cut would be made across their

to us, the forgiveness of sins, sealed in the sacrificial

arms, wrists, or thumbs. They would join arms as

blood of his son Jesus Christ. Today, I hope that all of

their blood flowed and mingled, usually into a wine

us will consider the other component of that contract.

glass. They would exchange names, meaning that

What is it that we have promised God through

they were now “friends.” There is an old saying that

our baptism? What is our mission as practicing

“blood is thicker than water,” which most people take

Christians? I would ask each of us today that, as we

to mean that family members are most important.

approach the altar to partake of communion, we are

The real meaning of that expression is that “the blood

reaffirming our faith in God and our commitment to

of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,

spread His word and love through all that we say and

or the breast.” In other words, my voluntary entry

do.

Amen.

into this agreement is even more important than my obligation to family. A substance would be rubbed

into the wounds to guarantee that large scars would form to serve as a constant reminder of the covenant.

When the cut had been made around the thumb, it looked like a ring, which is quite likely the origin of the wedding band (but less messy). The two tribes were now “married” to each other. “All that I am and have is yours.”

The final activity was the participation of the

two tribes in a “remembrance party.” This was the 38

39

Photo by Marshall Neve

The Gift

By Margaret Boschini

CAST

RANDY

Randy…………………………………………………

Chad, since when do we wrap presents? We’re guys. This

Randy is a guy in his late twenties who comes off as

is weird. Who is it even for?!

cocky and cool, but deep down he is a great friend even CHAD though he can be insensitive.

Um…nobody…

RANDY

Chad………………………………………………. Chad

Oooh. I see what’s goin’ on here. Chad’s got himself a

is Randy’s best friend. Contrary to Randy, he is a very

girlfriend.

sweet and sensitive sort of guy. However, he does have

CHAD

his breaking point, and can be dramatic.

I do not!

RANDY

SETTING

Really? Because I’m pretty sure that nobody wraps a

The show takes place in Chad’s living room. It should

present for NOBODY! So I think…I think that you

be messy, the typical “man cave”, with some trash on

must be wrapping that for SOMEBODY. Come on, let’s

the ground. Maybe add in a couch, some chairs, etc...

hear it! Who is she?

CHAD

(Lights up as CHAD is sitting on the floor with all

Fine. It’s…it’s for Rachael. I dunno man… I think I

of the supplies needed to wrap presents, i.e. scissors,

might kinda like her.

tape, rulers, and lots of wrapping paper. He is carefully

RANDY

using the ruler and obviously trying very hard to make

Like her?

everything perfect. He finishes the wrapping. Enter

CHAD

RANDY.)

Yeah, you know. I think that I might kind of have a thing for her.

RANDY

RANDY

Hey Chad, whatcha up to? Like my new shirt? I got it

Yes, you do have a thing for her. You have a present for

just for the party tonight, it’s pretty smooth huh? Huh!? her. What I’m wondering is why?

Chad? What are you doing?

CHAD

CHAD

Randy, you know what I mean. I have a crush on her.

(concentrating) Shh! I’m trying to wrap this present!

RANDY

RANDY

This is a joke right?

Dude… what? You’re wrapping a present? Why?

CHAD

CHAD

No, this isn’t a JOKE! Rachael’s great! She pretty and

Cuz…Cuz it’s Christmas and that’s what you do. Now

nice and…worth getting a present for! What’s wrong

go away! I gotta concentrate.

with Rachael?!

40

RANDY

Woah, woah, woah now wait just a second man. You’re

Nothing is wrong with her. That’s why I like her.

talking crazy. And I don’t even know why you would

CHAD

WANT my little sister…

You?

CHAD

RANDY

I DON’T want your little sister!!! I want Rachael!!

Yeah, me! Phew, good thing I got here when I did!

RANDY

What if you actually gave this to her? Haha..awkward

Well she’s mine so deal with it! (Indicating the present)

huh?

What’s even in that anyway?

CHAD

(Randy takes the present and begins to walk away.)

I’m not telling you!! How do I know you won’t just run out real quick and get her something better?!

CHAD

RANDY

Now wait just a second, Randy! Where do you think

Please man, I already got her a little something

you’re going with that?! I need it!

.

(RANDY smoothly pulls a card out of his pocket and

RANDY Well I was just thinking that since you worked so hard

tosses it on the floor in from of CHAD. CHAD stares at it

on it, that I might as well give it to her now. That way,

for a bit until his curiosity gets the best of him. He sighs and opens it. Then he makes a strange face.)

your hard work isn’t wasted. See bud? I’m just thinking of you.

CHAD

CHAD

No! Who says I don’t get to give it to her?! I bought it! I (reading the card) “Have a good one, babe.”? wrapped it!

RANDY

RANDY

(smugly) Yup. (sexy voice) Like, “Have a good one,

Chad, I know this is tough to hear. (overly sympathetic babe”. back pat) But there is nothing to be done about this. I

CHAD

called dibs on Rachael a long time ago.

(laughing) oh gee.. that really sucks man! I don’t even

CHAD

know what I was worried about-

Dibs?! You called dibs? Ooh Randy!! Well why didn’t

RANDY

ya just say so? I’m sooo sorry that I overstepped the

(defensively) It does not!!! You just don’t know what

sacred boundary of DIBS! What was I thinking?!

women want!

RANDY

CHAD

…Are you being sarcastic?

Oh, I don’t know what women want?? Well I’m pretty

CHAD

sure that they want a liiittle bit more than “Have a good

YES, I’m being sarcastic! You can’t just go around

one, babe!”.

calling DIBS on whatever the heck you want! Hey

RANDY

Randy, dibs on your car! Dibs on your Xbox! Dibs on

Nah man, you don’t get it. You gotta be a little…mean.

your fancy new shirt! Dibs on your little sister!

CHAD

RANDY

Yeah, so I gotta be MEAN and that will make girls like 41

me? Ha, that doesn’t even make sense.

violently, shredding the paper. CHAD, horrified, grabs it

RANDY

back.)

Exactly! You know what else doesn’t make sense?!

CHAD

WOMEN. You gotta beat ‘em at their own, scary

RANDY!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! What did you

little… mean-game!!

just do!? (Randy kneels down dramatically in from of

CHAD

the now half-wrapped present) WHYYYYYYYYY?!

Then I guess that you shouldn’t mind me giving this to RANDY Rachael one bit.

Geez dude, calm down! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you’d

RANDY

freak out like this!

But I do! Because…because I really care about her!

CHAD

CHAD

Randy I AM freaking out. That was all of the wrapping

Oh, you do? Do you REALLY care about her Randy!?

paper that I had!! Now it is ruined, and I don’t have

What color are her eyes?

time to run out and get more wrapping paper before

RANDY

the party tonight! Randy! GOSH! I am so SICK of you

Green!

doing this! You ruin everything for me! It’s like your

CHAD

hobby or something. And I am so sick of it!

(like a buzzer) Errrrr. Brown.

(Chad desperately scrambles on the floor and tries to

RANDY (shouted asap after CHAD’s “brown”) Brown!

rewrap the present, but it is obviously not happening. He is in a frenzy.)

CHAD (shaking head) You’re impossible, man.

RANDY

RANDY

Listen, I can’t just be creepily staring at her EYES all

Listen I said I was sorry! I… I didn’t know that this

time!

was such a big deal for you! It’s okay Chad. It’s gonna

CHAD

be okay. Look, you can give it to her! I’m fine with that!

Yeah, because looking into someone else’s eyes is

Here, take my dibs! (CHAD continues his episode) Why

generally considered a weird thing to do.

does it even have to be wrapped?

RANDY

CHAD

You know what I mean! For someone as dumb as you

(looking up suddenly) Because I want her to think that I

are, you are a remarkable smart Alec!

actually CARE! Unlike YOU!

CHAD

RANDY

Hey!! Now you better watch it man! You’re starting to

I do care!!! (CHAD shoots RANDY a nasty look) Okay

actually make me angry!

fine listen, hear me out. You’re right. I don’t really care

RANDY

about Rachael. Not like you do anyway. I mean, I don’t

Oooh noooo! I made the little present wrapping elf

even know what color her eyes are-

angry! What are you gonna do? Throw gumdrops at

CHAD

me?!

Brown.

(RANDY takes the present and begins to unwrap it

RANDY 42

Yes, brown. Or what color her hair is…

CHAD

CHAD

These are the obituaries Randy.

(lovingly) Brown…

RANDY

RANDY

So?

Or what school she went to…

CHAD

CHAD

So it’s CHRISTMAS, Randy! It’s a HAPPY time. And

She went to Brown.

you wanna know what people DON’T wanna hear on

RANDY

Christmas?!(reading lamely) Jesus Christ is born, but

Or what her favorite food is…

Chester White, Jane Kirk, and Lutz Bukowski are all

CHAD

dead as of this morning, so...

(thinks for a second) oh! Brownies!

RANDY

RANDY

Okay, I see it now…

(makes a face) Yeeah well you get the point. I don’t

CHAD

care about Rachael. Not really. But I do care about

Give it up Randy, just go. I’ll stay here I guess, and read

you. And seeing you like this is really messin’ with me! the obits. Thanks for helping me out though man. You’re So…here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna wrap this up a great friend. for you. Even better then it was before!

(All of the sudden, RANDY’S face lights up. In his

CHAD (hysterically) It’s impossible!

excitement, he begins to unbutton his “fancy new shirt” and take it off)

RANDY No, no, no it’s not!

CHAD

(Randy hesitantly attempts to rewrap the present, but is Oh my gosh, what are you doing?! All I said was that you obviously failing horribly due to both lack of wrapping paper and lack of wrapping skills.)

were a good friend!!!

RANDY No! We can use it to wrap your present!!

You just kinda gotta…put this here and… patch this

CHAD

up right here and…. There! It’s perfect! Just like it was What??! before! (CHAD looks at RANDY hopelessly.) Hey, I

RANDY

know man! Let’s just use this newspaper right here!

My shirt!! You can use it to wrap her present. It’s so shiny, she won’t even know the difference! Plus, it’s

(RANDY picks up a discarded piece of newspaper off

brown, and I have this strange feeling that that is her

of the floor and hands it to CHAD. CHAD smiles and

favorite color…

begins to wrap the present when suddenly his face changes into a horrified expression.)

CHAD Hey, it IS!! This is great! But… What will you wear to the party?

RANDY

RANDY

What?! What’s wrong?

I just won’t go. Look, you need to get a move on 43

wrapping that thing if you’re gonna be on time, so I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you man.

CHAD Hey Randy? Dibs on being your friend forever.

RANDY (smiles) Shut up man. Just don’t call dibs on my Xbox.

(exit RANDY. CHAD begins to wrap the present

when the phone rings. He picks it up and answers.)

CHAD Hello? Oh, Rachael, hi! Yes, I’m coming, I’ll be there in a few. I’ve just got something to finish up first. You won’t believe what I got you! (laughs) Um… Rachael?

I…You know what never mind. Just… save me a seat next to you and (CHAD smiles to himself)…and have a good one, babe.

(CHAD hangs up, smiles. BLACKOUT.)

44

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