FALL / WINTER • 2014
"Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable." - George Bernard Shaw -
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[ Foreword ] The Lauderdale County School System is pleased to share the Fall 2014 edition of Sweet Inspirations, a literary magazine of original writing, artwork, and photography submitted by students in grades 7-12 in the Lauderdale County School System. The name Sweet Inspirations is taken from a title of a song written by Spooner Oldham, a Lauderdale County alumnus, and is a nod to our area, our talented residents, and our rich musical heritage. The magazine is a publication of the Secondary Curriculum Department.
[ Acknowledgements ] Cover Artwork • by Brooke Moore Layout and Design • by Kristin Garrett Superintendent • Jennifer Gray Secondary Curriculum Director • Les Abston Publication Advisor • Lara Muck Special thanks to Carol Pace, Jane Corl, Pam Tanner, Mary Nicely, and Derek Daily for their role in making the dream for Sweet Inspirations a reality and for their role in making the magazine a success and to Lara Muck and her Advertising Design Class at ATCTC for taking on the project of the publication of Sweet Inspirations.
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[ Table of Contents ] FICTION• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • First Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Brittany Laster ......... ATCTC ...... The Kingdom's Assassin ................. 6-9 • Second Place -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Abby Roberson ........ LCHS ....... The Day ....................................... 16-21 • Third Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Hanah Sims ............. LCHS ....... The American Way ...................... 28-29
NON-FICTION • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • First Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ashley Irons ............ Central .... Ethics and Reputation in Business ... 12-13 • Second Place -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Levi Bevis ................ Central .... America the Silent ....................... 22-23 • Third Place ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Hanah Sims ............. LCHS ...... My Grandmother's House .............. 31 • Honorable Mention ----------------------------------------------------------------------------Erin Thacker ............ LCHS ...... All About Me ................................ 38-39 Jason ..................... Central .... Choices ....................................... 42-43 Levi Bevis ............... Central .... More Than Just a Club .................. 46-47
POETRY • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • First Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Alexander Williams .. LCHS ...... Seconds in Between ....................... 11 • Second Place -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Adrianna King ......... LCHS ...... Ana Poem ..................................... 15 • Third Place ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Adrianna King ......... LCHS ...... The Life of Her Son ....................... 26 • Honorable Mention ----------------------------------------------------------------------------Levi Bevis ................ Central .... Allegiances of Old ......................... 44 Savannah Owen ...... LCHS ...... An Autumn Night ......................... 45 • Poetry Honorable Mentions ... continued on next page
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[ Table of Contents ] POETRY • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Honorable Mention (continued) ---------------------------------------------------------Kaitlyn Tatum .......... Kaitlyn Tatum .......... Kaleigh Warren ....... Madison Jones ........ Jason Pruitt ............. Kaitlyn Tatum ..........
LCHS ...... LCHS ...... LCHS ...... LCHS ...... Central .... LCHS ......
Dead Roses, Too ........................... 41 Demon of Desperation .................. 50 Eyes of Truth .............................. 34-35 Home at Midnight ........................ 49 Memories ........................................ 40 My Existence ............................... 33
ARTWORK • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • First Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Brooke Moore ......... ATCTC .... The Colorful Dance ........ Cover & Page 14
• Second Place -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Abby Roberson ....... LCHS ...... Bored on the Bus ......................... 25 • Third Place ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mason McGee ........ ATCTC .... Camp Jackson .............................. 32 • Honorable Mention ----------------------------------------------------------------------------McKenzie Siemientowski .. ATCTC .... Agateophobia .............................. 48 Matthew Nowack ... ATCTC .... Christmas Night .......................... 36 Branden Griffis ...... ATCTC .... Graffiti ....................................... 22 Brianna Wolfgang .. ATCTC .... Love Dove ................................... 28 Ivy Stover ............. ATCTC .... Simple Balance ........................... 45 Hannah Richardson .. ATCTC .... Still Life ..................................... 42 Caroline Graham ... Brooks .... Untitled ...................................... 17 Nicole Yost ........... ATCTC .... Window Pane .............................. 36 Chaylie Thorn ....... Wilson .... Wise One ..................................... 6 • Additonal Selections Taylor Creasy ........ Logan Hanback ...... Mason McGee ....... Briley Walker ........ Emily Franklin .......
--------------------------------------------------------------------------Central ... Abstract Autumn ........................... 29 43 Brooks ... Craftmatic .................................... 20 ATCTC .... Evergreen ..................................... 48 Lexington . Fashion Design .............................. 48 ATCTC .... Indian Headdress ..........................
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[ Table of Contents ] ARTWORK • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Additonal Selections McKenzie Siemientowski .. Keelan Samples ..... Tanner Bayes ........ Allison Lott ...........
(continued) -------------------------------------------------------35 ATCTC .... Lost Rolling Girl's Weeping ............. 36 ATCTC .... Owls in Midnight ........................... 51 LCHS ..... The Guitar .................................... ATCTC .... The Horned Owl ............................. 20
PHOTOGRAPHY • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • First Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Harley Chase ......... Rogers .... Music is Life .................................. 10 • Second Place -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Corbin .................. Central ... Americana ..................................... 24 • Third Place ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Erika Grisham ........ LCHS .... A Sister's Happiness ....................... 30 • Honorable Mention ----------------------------------------------------------------------------Anna Shea Hayes ... Central .. Baby's Best Friend ......................... 27 Sarah Kelley .......... LCHS ..... Escape .......................................... 37 Mikayla Smith ........ ATCTC .... Homecoming ................................. 27 Stokes Kasmeier ..... ATCTC .... Kasmeier Pond ............................. 18 Jason Pruitt ............ Central .. Road to Serenity ........................... 38 Sarah Fike ............. ATCTC .... Snowy Days in Washington ............ 12 Harley Chase ......... Rogers .... The Amazing Ring of Fire .............. 37 Hannah Gautney .... LCHS ..... The Dark Halls ............................. 46 Emma McFall ......... Central .. The Old Broken Bridge .................. 21 • Additonal Selections Bayleigh Spears ..... Molli Jo Whitten .... Brianna Wolfgang .. Stokes Kasmeier ..... Christopher John Hartzell . Sarah Fike ............. Brianna Wolfgang ..
--------------------------------------------------------------------------37 ATCTC .... Cabin in the Woods ....................... 13 Central .. Calm and Relaxing ....................... 39 ATCTC .... Puppy .......................................... 41 ATCTC .... Sunset on Kasmeier Road ............. 48 LCHS ..... Tunnel of Trees ........................... 33 ATCTC .... Vandalism in the Homes of Our Loved Ones ... 40 ATCTC .... Hedgehog ....................................
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First Place • Fiction
The Kingdom's Assassin • • • • • • • • • by Brittany Laster • ATCTC
I have killed before, of course. Those
ruffians in the forest when I was but fifteen were my first. Father always said I was the best, but he could not have had this in mind when he said so. I was being ‘coerced’ into committing the highest treason possible for someone of my level, any level really. My little sister’s life depended upon it, hers and mine. I could not care less about my own, but when I was fifteen both of our parents had been murdered right in front of our eyes. Though Olivia, my sister, could not remember it for she had been but three winters. Now, six years later, I have been called upon by the very men that had killed my parents to pass on the legacy by killing yet another. So much death, yet I do not care. The only living being in the world that I care for is my younger sister. If she dies, this world will know it. It will hear the screams of the ones responsible,
“Wise One” • by Chaylie Thorn - Wilson -
•
Honorable Mention Artwork
all mercy vanquished. Until that time, I am but a pawn used to forward the other players’ forward movement towards its ultimate goal, the king. Yes indeed, I was to kill the bloody king. His life blood was to flow out of him and to the cold tile below; but not in private. No, I was to make it a very public ordeal; though they still expect for me to walk out of the castle, ld walk
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The Kingdom's Assassin
• First Place Fiction •
Brittany Laster
unquestioned. uHonestly, I have no doubt that I would walk out of this large, stone death trap alive. I was my father’s daughter after all; the only problem is that I don’t want to walk out of here bloody alive. This king is but the first; out of the nine sovereigns only one was to survive who was to be termed the Kingdom’s Assassin. That would lead most to believe that king was the one pulling my chains, but that was way too easy. I had no doubt in my mind that he had nothing to do with the blood about to pour down the tile like rain. Marcus, the messenger who gave me the details on the sovereign’s death, whispered to me that the reason for the King’s death was for crimes against the all. Well bloody hooray, a king that gets rewards from his people’s suffering, how original- not. If they asked me I would say they are wasting their time, once one king was decrowned, ha-ha, another would soon replace him. There is no such thing as a leader with morals. When there is, they are quickly murdered and replaced. Of course, no one asked me. If they had, I would not be walking down the royal hallway with my hair piled upon my head like a wig and my comfortable trousers replaced with a not so comfortable corset and gown. God, being a female has to be the worst torture possible within the nobility. Good thing I am not noble- I would have already killed this guy. The bar maid who fixed my hair remarked upon my lack of lady-like behavior. I responded with my trademark answer, “I am female, not a girl.” Really, that should be on a banner. She responded with a whack to my poor, defenseless head, and found herself on her back for it. Truly, that was an accident; my reflexes are deadly, she should at least have had a stab wound. Anyhow, after Marcus had shut her and her complaints up, he dragged me here. He gave me but a small dagger to get the job done. Sadly for him I prefer larger; hence, the dueling sword currently strapped to the side of my leg, hidden under the miles of fabric. Luckily, I talked the seamstress into making a small cut within the folds of the gown right where my hands lie, giving me easy access to the hilt of my favorite sword.
All around me, the wealth of this king made itself known, very gaudily. Upon every
arch there was a golden bouquet of flowers, real gold, and every corner was adorned with a matching golden suit of armor. Beneath the--surprise--gold chandelier, there hung small gold
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The Kingdom's Assassin
• First Place Fiction •
Brittany Laster
snowflakes which caught the light and beamed it into the guests’ eyes; the hall was adorned lushly with miles upon miles of different shapes and sizes of gold. This hall must be their bloody treasury. It held enough gold to make the fiercest of dragons happy. The candelabras attached solidly to the walls reflected their flame upon the gold, the dancing undulations giving the hall the appearance of catching fire. Truly, the effect was breathtaking. Striding the rest of the way down the hall, I pushed open the double doors with a flourish, making as dramatic an entrance as possible. Walking right past the flustered announcer, I pranced over to the king and took a deep bow, then quickly transformed it into a curtsy with an inward shrug. Oops? It’s the whole lack of being a lady thing, I guess; Father and Mother never really felt the need to teach me etiquette, only the correct way to wield a weapon.
“Sire,” I said sweetly, “I am positive you do not remember me, I am but a flea in your
beautiful hide,” Peeking through my lashes I could see him sit up higher in his throne. “Yet I cannot help wishing for your Grace’s hand in a small matter.”
“What matter do you speak of, my lady?” He asked, his voice gruff from its old age.
“Why, when we last met you promised me a tour of your gardens,” His eyebrows rose
and I smiled softly. “The last we met, sire, I was but ten winters. It has been eleven years since then.” The king seemed perplexed for a moment but quickly covered it with a nod.
“Of course, of course!” He said, slowly standing, recognition in his eyes. Marcus had
intelligence that the King’s spy network used that very excuse when they carried knowledge of import to the king. The old sovereign finally gained his feet and led me to the double doors I had entered. Slowly feeling the curious glances lessening, I moved my hand to the hilt of my sword. Quickly drawing it out, I slashed through the king’s flashy robes and into the flesh beneath. If the ones holding my sister had truly wanted me to get out unnoticed they were going to be disappointed. Soon, I was surrounded by a group of soldiers as another group carried their king’s corpse to the exit. If they hoped to save him they were out of luck, for I felt his heart shudder when I planted my sword’s tip within it.
“Boys, boys, you do know how to be gentlemen, correct?” I asked as they all held their
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The Kingdom's Assassin
• First Place Fiction •
Brittany Laster
weapons towards my neck.
“What, what happened?” I heard a man’s voice ask from behind me. “Where is uncle?”
I knew that voice. Wincing, I turned to face the boy from my past- a young prince who had been present when my parents were murdered and who had tried to save me from the men that took me. Only, he was not a boy anymore. Just as I knew he would, he had become quite the handsome fellow. Too bad I had just murdered his uncle. His eyes widened in shock upon seeing me.
“Pri- King Demetrius,” one of the soldiers said, “this woman has committed treason
and has murdered our King, your Uncle. Orders?” Huh, so his name was Demetrius, funny I had never thought to ask his name.
“Her name is Adelaide, and she is my betrothed.” Demetrius said. I had been slowly
edging my way to the exit at this point, but hearing his words I froze.
“I am NOT your betrothed! How many times do I have to say it?” I yelled, exasperated.
He still thought I was his future bride, typical. Can an assassin not just murder a king and be on her merry way?
“Wait, this is Princess Adelaide of the Lorcan Kingdom? She just murdered our king!”
One soldier yelled.
“She does not have the silver eyes.” Another said.
“She-“
“Hold it! What do you mean Princess Adelaide, I am no princess.” I said darkly.
Demetrius’ eyes turned to me. Really, how could they be such a crystal blue?
“You are,” he said on a sigh. “But why must you always be killing people when we
meet?” Huh, no love lost for his uncle then, for there was definite humor there.”Take her to my chambers; I will deal with the guests,” Demetrius said, but just then a huge boom resounded through the cavernous ball room, and the guests scattered like ants. Quickly escaping the guard’s hold on me, I waved and winked at Demetrius.
“Bye, sweetheart,” My last view, his gorgeous eyes widening in shock.
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First Place • Photography
“Music is Life” •
by Harley Chase - Rogers •
First Place Photography
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First Place • Poetry
• • • Seconds in Between • • • by Alexander Michael Williams • LCHS It’s the seconds in between the seconds that go unseen That mean the difference between light and dark trust me, these words are true to their mark It’s the seconds in between and those who go unseen Now we must fight or darkness destroys all those in sight It’s those moments in between those times that go unseen Those times to prepare for the darkest dare It’s the seconds that go unseen the seconds in between In between struggles of dark and light that make the difference between day and eternal night It’s the seconds within the mean and untold heroes in between That make the difference for those who’ll fight the war It’s the moments that go unseen that makes the difference between friend and feign Never close your eyes during peace or your light may cease It’s the seconds in between the seconds that go unseen That build the coming battle so do not lay low like cattle It’s the seconds in between the seconds that go unseen Make use of them those God given seconds, amen
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First Place • Non-Fiction
Ethics and Reputation in Business • • by Ashley Irons • Central
Reputation cannot be bought or
sold; it can only be earned. Who would do business with a company that is famous for cheating its clients? Would a salesman sell anything to a retail store that had the reputation of not paying its bills? In business, reputation is key.
So, how do integrity, honesty, and
civility in marketplace ethics tie in with reputation to benefit a business as well as the community? As the daughter of a lumber salesman and former small business owner, I have learned much about integrity and ethics in business throughout my life. If my businessman father has taught me anything, it is that without ethics, a business, community, or individual cannot truly be successful. In other words, integrity, honesty, and civility are the building blocks of a productive business.
Honesty is a trait that is often
pushed aside or written off as a thing of the
“Snowy Days in Washington” • by Sarah Elizabeth Fike - ATCTC -
•
Honorable Mention
past. The most valuable thing in this world, however, is the truth. For example, take a relationship between two individuals. If one person has lied to the other in the past, would the honest person ever rely on the liar again? This concept is applicable in the relationship between a business and its customers. Why would a customer do business with a company known for false
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Ethics and Reputation in Business
• First Place Non-Fiction • Ashley Irons
advertising or cheating?
Civility is another component that comprises a company's reputation. Politeness
goes a long way. If community members know that a business shows respect for its customers, the business's sales will flourish. Take the company Chick-fil-A, for instance. Chick-fil-A has had tremendous success throughout the years, and a fundamental factor in that success is the apparent friendliness of Chick-fil-A employees.
Honesty and civility constitute the concept of integrity. Integrity within a business
has tremendously positive effects on a community. The city of Florence, Alabama, for example, is benefitted by Panera Bread's food donations to the less fortunate community members. This, in turn, boosts Panera Bread's reputation, which provides the company with more business. This triggers the domino effect, providing positive incentive for other businesses to give back to their communities.
The most important aspect of a company is an admirable reputation. Integrity,
honesty, and civility are absolute necessities for a reputable business. These traits stem from the leadership in communities and businesses, so it is imperative that community members display integrity in not only their businesses, but their daily lives.
“Calm and Relaxing” by Molli Jo Whitten • Central Photography
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First Place • Artwork
“The Colorful Dance” •
by Brooke Moore - ATCTC •
First Place Artwork - 14 -
Second Place • Poetry
Ana Poem
• • by Adrianna King • LCHS • • She knows she isn’t the prettiest, she knows she isn’t the skinniest, She wants to be better, wants to be skinnier, she decides to fix it. She decides to not eat, but it isn’t always easy. People started to notice. People started to talk. She tries to cover it up moving around the food. Taking a bite here, a nibble there. The over-sized hoodies, baggy sweatpants. She just can’t eat. She feels fat at only 85 pounds, 5 foot 2 inches tall. She just doesn’t feel comfortable The more that people comment, the worse it gets. The skinnier that she gets,the happier she is. Finally, she is done. Finally, she is comfortable,but it’s too late. She collapses. The ambulance rushes to the hospital. “We did everything that we could.” The words roll off of the doctor’s tongue. Her parents fall to their knees. “We never knew.” Words that everyone said.
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Second Place • Fiction
The American Way • • by Hanah Sims • LCHS • •
It was the beginning of June, 1944; the weather seemed to be stuck in that awkward
phase where the heat was almost unbearable at midday and quite chilly at night. A gentle breeze was lifting the smell of the sea and cooling off the inland country. Though that gentle breeze smelled lovely, it made absolutely no impact on the fifty-pound load of equipment strapped to Staff Sergeant Aaron McGilley's back.
Aaron McGilley was proud to be an American soldier. Aaron's grandfather and father
bravely fought in World War I. Aaron knew it was his duty to carry on the tradition and enlisted for overseas action along the European coasts. He had trained in Switzerland, protected the Polish fronts, and was now preparing to take part in Operation Overlord. McGilley was ready to leave foreign soil. He had always wanted to explore Europe, but not while dodging enemy fire or while avoiding landmines in a tank. The patriotism that had once burned hot in his heart was slowly turning to nothing but ashes. He knew America needed a win.
The plans had been laid out by McGilley's commanding officer, General Dwight D.
Eisenhower. The general wanted a win for the American troops, but most importantly he wanted to end the war. In thirty-six hours, American forces would invade the French beaches at Normandy.
This time, prior to the invasion, was very important. It gave troops time to perfect attack
plans, write letters home, and mentally prepare for the unknown. Aaron McGilley did none of those things. He was mentally, physically, and emotionally ready for the attack. General Eisenhower knew just how focused and prepared Sgt. McGilley appeared to be. Even though Eisenhower was a professional and claimed much more experience over McGilley, he always sought the young sergeant's opinions before any tactical move.
The night before the invasion, General Eisenhower told Sergeant McGilley of his
intentions and sought his voice of reason once again. "This operation is not being planned
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The American Way
• Second Place Fiction •
Hanah Sims
“Untitled”
• by Caroline Graham - Brooks -
•
Honorable Mention Artwork
with any alternatives. This operation is planned as a victory, and that's the way it's going to be. We're going down there, and we're throwing everything we have into it and we're going to make it a success."
McGilley smiled at his commanding officer and stated, "Yes, sir. Giving our very best is
all we can do. God will watch over us as we defend our country. We will make America proud, because we are protecting the land of the free and the home of the brave."
Sergeant McGilley's troop was commanded to penetrate the enemy's line and evacuate
the P.O.W. camps. The troop was also told to evacuate the surrounding homes in the event of a massive landmine explosion or fire. Tomorrow morning before dawn, the American forces would put their invasion plan into action; this attack would become one of the most famous during the Second World War.
Sgt. McGilley's team was the first to emerge from the protection of their amphibious
tank and wade ashore. Omaha Beach could only be described as a nightmare straight from hell. Members of the American fleet were dying left and right. Aaron could see his comrades dropping like flies. McGilley ducked as hundreds of bullets flew all around him. The whizzing bullets reminded him of bees during spring. He knew he had to keep moving. McGilley launched
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The American Way
• Second Place Fiction •
Hanah Sims
“Kasmeier Pond” • by Stokes Kasmeier - ATCTC -
•
Honorable Mention Photography
his grenades at the German forces and prayed for a miracle.
Then, it happened. The U.S. Air Force unloaded thousands of bombs, enough to weaken
the German front and give McGilley his opening. With renewed energy, Aaron rushed through the abandoned front towards the Prisoner of War camp.
The camp was basically the equivalent of a barnyard. The smell was awful and
ridiculously disgusting. Sgt. McGilley was taken aback by the number of prisoners that filled the small stalls. There had to be at least thirty people in each closet-sized stall. McGilley and his other few surviving comrades unchained the prisoners and led them to safety.
Now the prisoners would be escorted to the nearest American Red Cross station and be
evaluated based on sickness, weight, etc. Hopefully, the prisoners would not be too mentally scarred from the brutal treatment by the Germans. McGilley, being the head sergeant of his team, made the last inspection of the P.O.W. camp, before the team destroyed the building. Aaron always reflected on his actions as he did his walkthrough. He was thankful they had liberated this camp. The emptiness was so vast, and it showed the true size of the camp. The Germans had somehow managed to shove around one thousand people into a barn meant for
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The American Way
• Second Place Fiction •
Hanah Sims
maybe twenty-five or thirty horses.
As McGilley peered around the last corner of the building, he saw movement, but
not enough for him to draw his weapon. There hiding, shivering behind a milk crate was a frightened little girl. Aaron carefully and calmly dropped his weapon and equipment. She was staring at him very wide eyed, like a little lost puppy.
"Well what a nice surprise ...what's your name sweetheart?" Aaron was trying to be
casual and console the child, but he got no response, just a blank stare. Aaron squatted down right in front of the girl to get a better view of her.
She could only be about six years old. She wore no shoes, only a homemade blue
dress, most likely made by her mother. Her face was perfectly round and reminded Aaron of a porcelain doll. The most astounding feature was her eyes. The girl's eyes were chocolate brown, detailed with flakes of gold. She was a beautiful child.
"I'll try again," Aaron thought. "I'm not going to hurt you sweetie. I'm here to help you."
Aaron carefully rose and picked the girl up. He sat her on his lap and realized how fragile she was, truly a porcelain doll. Then, she smiled. It was a pearly white smile that melted Aaron's heart. Aaron patted her back and gave her a hug. The girl didn't even try to struggle; in fact, she wrapped her arms around his neck and began to cry. There was only one thing Aaron could do, sit there until she ran out of tears. He didn't have the heart to leave the stall with her crying in his arms.
Aaron McGilley sat in that dark, damp prisoner of war camp for over an hour. The girl
finally lifted her head and wiped her eyes; no more tears would fall. He attempted to start another conversation with her.
"Did you have a good cry, honey? All better now?"
She looked at him, and then slowly pointed to her ears. In that moment, Aaron realized
she was deaf. He just patted her arm and smiled; that made her happy and she knew he understood. He had never encountered a deaf person who was as young as this girl. Even though she was deaf, McGilley knew he could never leave her. They had already formed a
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The American Way
• Second Place Fiction •
Hanah Sims
type of understood bond that should never be broken.
The Red Cross officials told Aaron the
little girl's name was Lucetta. She had become an orphan since her parents had died in the P.O.W. camp. She was originally from Poland and her family had gone to France for safety.
McGilley had now been transferred to
beach patrol on Omaha. With the American Red Cross attending to even the enemy's wounded,
“The Horned Owl” by Allison Lott • ATCTC Artwork
he was asked to be head supervisor by Gen. Eisenhower. McGilley really enjoyed his duty because he could go visit Lucetta after his watch. Lucy loved seeing Aaron. She looked forward to it every single day. They had both been learning sign language and had been able to actually talk. Lucy was very smart and even funny when she told Aaron old stories. He had decided this had been his favorite part of the war. Aaron only had one more month of deployment and then he was heading back home. He only had one assignment left, and this was the most important one.
“Evergreen”
by Mason McGee • ATCTC Artwork
Sgt. McGilley filled out an adoption
application so he could take little Lucetta to America. He had made a list of reasons as to why this was beneficial for her. Lucy needed medical
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The American Way
• Second Place Fiction •
Hanah Sims
treatment for her deafness, and America had the best doctors. This task was quickened by a letter straight from General Eisenhower. Eisenhower had only met Lucy once and immediately witnessed just how close the little Polish girl and his American sergeant were. Aaron McGilley had completed his military service and his last mission.
America welcomed the troops back with open arms. It would take Aaron a little while
to readjust to normal life, but he had Lucetta to help him. Lucy would also be learning how to speak with a new hearing doctor and several speech therapists. McGilley had hired the very best for his sweet, little Lucy. The future looked bright and the war was coming to a close.
“The Old Broken Bridge” • by Emma McFall - Central -
•
Honorable Mention Photography - 21 -
Second Place • Non-Fiction
America the Silent • • by Levi Bevis • Central • •
One quick drive through Florence will
reveal that it is definitely election season. Campaign signs line roads around the county, billboards sport various candidates, and mail boxes are filled with postcards listing the achievements of Democrats and Republicans alike. It seems like my home phone never stops ringing with calls from political advocates asking for a vote or political survey. As most teenagers do, we often ignore these political venues as they fight for our attention. However, it is time that we become more aware of our local, state, and national political climate.
Unfortunately
for
the
majority
of teenagers, our inactivity in voting is affecting the course of our nation. Young adults
aged
eighteen
to
twenty-four,
currently referred to as the Millennial Generation,
consistently
have
the
“Graffiti”
• by Branden Griffis - ATCTC -
•
Honorable Mention Artwork
lowest voter turnout rate of any other age group. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, only 38% of Millennials voted in the 2012 national election. This may not seem like a low number, but when compared to other age groups, it is considerably lower. For example, the highest voter turnout rate was found in
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America the Silent
• Second Place Non-Fiction •
Levi Bevis
adults aged 65 and older in 2012, and it reached 69.7% of that age group. With almost twice as many older Americans voting as opposed to younger Americans, older adults naturally have a better chance of electing candidates that they support. This can create a conflict of interest for teenagers who support another candidate.
Another concern with low young adult voter turnout is underrepresentation. With a
large percentage of older Americans voting, the voices and ideas of Millennials are not being heard. The majority of our generation is either in college or joining the work force. We are quickly gaining applicable, real-world experience. We are contributing new ideas, innovations, and technological advances to our society. We stand at the forefront of building a better world and failing to vote is simply doing ourselves an injustice.
With all of this in mind, one may wonder what could possibly resolve this issue. The
answer is much simpler than one may think. Teenagers and young adults need to vote. We need to deepen our political interests and express our beliefs. We cannot remain silent anymore. If we are contributing to numerous facets of our society, why can we not contribute to the future of our nation?
The best way to get involved in the political process is to register to vote. The voter
registration form can be mailed in prior to a student's eighteenth birthday. Once registered, utilize the right to vote! This right is unique to democratic nations, and it is our responsibility to take advantage of the opportunity to decide who will lead our nation, state, county, and city. Also, we need to encourage friends, family members, and acquaintances to vote, as well. Every vote counts.
We now have the ability to decide how our country will operate. We have the tools and
knowledge to make informed decisions. We are valuable parts of our society, and each person has an opinion on any given political issue. The torch has been passed to our generation. The only question that remains is, will we be able to stand up to the challenge of our political system?
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Second Place • Photography
“Americana” •
by Corbin - Central •
Second Place Photography
- 24 -
Second Place • Artwork
“Bored on the Bus” •
by Abby Roberson - LCHS •
Second Place Artwork
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Third Place • Poetry
The Life of Her Son • • by Adrianna King • LCHS • • She feels him. Each soft little kick. Loves him more and more. Her unborn son means more than life to her. She feels kind of guilty. Knowing that he will grow up like she did. Without the love of a father. She tried and tried, but once he hit her while she was pregnant, she was done. She had vowed to protect this baby with her life, at all costs. Being a teenage mom, still in school, no dad, no husband or even a boyfriend to help, She hurts, cries. Then her little boy kicks. She never knew being kicked would make her smile. Everything seems to be going wrong. Everyone seems to be against her. She goes to the edge, about to jump. Then she feels this little kick again. Once again, her son helps her be strong. She is in an unbelievable amount of pain. She was about to give up, then she sees her son. For a moment, all is silent. Then she hears the breathtaking cry of her finally born son. Tears of joy and relief fill her eyes and stream down her cheeks. Already, she loves him so much. That moment was the moment she lived for.
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Honorable Mention • Photography
“Baby's Best Friend” • by Anna Shea Hayes - Central -
•
Honorable Mention Photography
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“Homecoming” • by Mikayla Smith - ATCTC -
•
Honorable Mention Photography
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Third Place • Fiction
The Day
• • by Abby Roberson • LCHS • •
A crack of lightning came down from
the air, followed by a large clap of thunder. It was January. But no snow came, only rain. It rained for days, which turned into weeks, to months. The girl noted this as she stared silently out of the window, so close a patch of condensation formed on it. She reached up and drew a frowny face. It was almost "The Day," a day she both looked forward to and dreaded. "The Day" was when she visited her mother. It wasn't at a cafe or coffee shop, but the cemetery. Her mother had died when she was six of pneumonia. The girl visited one day a year, on January 15th, her mother's birthday. It was January 14th. She retreated and collapsed on the couch, where she stayed for the remaining eighteen hours.
The next morning she awoke, and
for five glorious seconds she forgot. Then she remembered, "The Day". Slowly, she got
“Love Dove” • by Brianna Wolfgang - ATCTC -
•
Honorable Mention Artwork
dressed. At eleven o'clock sharp, she was dropped off at the cemetery. Waving her dad goodbye, she made sure he was gone. After he was, she went over to a tree directly in front of her mother's grave. At first, nothing happened. But the girl knew something would. The ground shook slightly, and a woman
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The Day
• Third Place Fiction •
Abby Roberson
walked out from the tree beside the girl. "Mom," she said, choking on tears. They embraced.
"How's life?" The mother asked, chuckling at her joke.
The daughter shrugged, "Teenage stuff." She was no longer sobbing but tears still
streamed down her face.
Her mother wiped away one of her tears, "Oh, come on, Honey," the mother said, "It's
not like I'm gone forever."
The young girl nodded and fiddled with her gloves. They talked, as they always did.
Then, the mother pulled something out of her pocket and dropped it in the girl's hand. It was a brooch. It sparkled in the sunlight, the emerald green in the middle like a diamond. She took it in her hands, "It was your great-great-great grandma's," Her mother continued, "She asked me to give it to you." She looked up, "It's time," she said.
Mother and daughter embraced one more time, "I'm going to miss you," The daughter
said.
She felt her mother nod, "Me more. Tell everyone I love them." Finally, they broke
apart. She sprouted great wings, and rose up. After disappearing, the daughter sighed, and headed to where her dad's truck had just pulled up. As she got in the old pickup truck, she saw her mother in the sky. She waved and left. As the truck was driving away, it started to snow.
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“Abstract Autumn” by Taylor Creasy • Central Artwork
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Third Place • Photography
“A Sister's Happiness” •
by Erika Grisham - LCHS •
Third Place Photography
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Third Place • Non-Fiction
My Grandmother's House • • by Hanah Sims • LCHS • •
Every time I turn in the driveway, I remember why my grandmother's house is my favorite
place in the entire world. The Dogwood and Magnolia trees greet me as I park my car. The cracks along the sidewalk each seem to tell their own story. The little details of this 70’s model house give it so much character and the memories inside run even deeper.
The sidewalk runs along my grandmother's flower beds and the sweet aroma of her roses
urges me to stop and sniff a while. Growing along her wooden trellis are the honeysuckles, clusters of sunshine that never fail to make me smile.
Grandmother's front porch is one of my faithful friends. It has provided me with a shield
from a rainy day, a seat to take a load off, and a perfect home base for hide-n-seek games. The green wrought-iron chairs in the center of the porch creak and rattle much like the house, but they have always been with me growing up, and I can't help but love them.
Inside the house, I will always be able to picture Grandmother slaving over her hot stove.
The wonderful scents of bubbly pinto beans, crunchy fried taters, and cornbread fresh out of a cast iron skillet are the true smells of home. Grandmother's sanctuary is her country kitchen, and it will never be the same without her timeless recipes. My favorite part of her kitchen is the huge table. That table has probably heard more gossip than any quilting club or book club this side of the Mason-Dixon line. Grandmother's kitchen, the smells, gossip, and her presence wrap me up in a great big hug and force me to stay and eat a bite.
I know my grandmother better than anyone else in my family, and I'm proud to admit
I'm exactly like her. Most of my childhood memories took place at her house, from my very first birthday to every Christmas Eve. My life would never be the same without my grandmother or her simple brick house. Grandmother really made her house a home, and one of my biggest dreams is to follow in her footsteps and build my home for other generations to enjoy.
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Third Place • Artwork
“Camp Jackson” •
by Mason McGee - ATCTC •
Third Place Artwork - 32-
Honorable Mention • Poetry
My Existence • • by Kaitlyn Tatum • LCHS • • They Look At Me, With Coal Eyes. They Yell And Scream, Fighting To Know My Reasons. How Can They Fight, When I Lie Here Bleeding? They Call Me The Selfish One, When I Just Want A Little Piece. It Feels Like I Am The Experiment, Poke And Prod Me They Do At Night. Why Can’t You Let me Go, I Know I Have No Soul. Quit Trying To Reason Why, I Promise You I’ll Never Know. Hunt Me Down, Pierce Me With Your Eyes. You Think You Know Me, You Only Know The Shell Of My Existence.
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“Vandalism in the Homes of Our Loved Ones” by Sarah Fike • ATCTC Photography
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Honorable Mention • Poetry
Eyes of Truth • • by Kaleigh Warren • LCHS • • Eyes of green, and eyes of blue. They couldn’t morph together, and they knew it was true. But when they are together, the blue and green fades. For when they speak, their personalities change. Not only do they hate, But they couldn’t stand each other, even if it was for fate. They tried to be decent around each other, But they could never be each other’s lover. Their friends thought they were perfect together. And they thought they would never have a forever. But that’s what you get when you guess. And they only waited for that moment to suppress. When eyes of green and eyes of blue, Are put together and never take a clue. They become surreal, And neither one of them want to steal. They didn’t want to steal each other’s hearts. Because they knew they would come apart. Because this secret attraction, Could never be a real distraction. They said they hated each other a lot, But that’s only what other people thought. How could they show each other without getting told on? But lying to each other is still so wrong. They wish that they could tell, But someone would let the secret sell. And finally they decided to spread it themselves. But they were wrong, for the society didn’t treat them well. The secret spilled and haters were created. They didn’t know they would become so hated. Eyes of green were full of tears. How could they have become so dear?
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Eyes of Truth
• Honorable Mention - Poetry •
Kaleigh Warren
Eyes of green only used a knife. And now eyes of blue wishes for a new life. The green color was only hers, And now it’s faded because of the society jerks. Eyes of blue wonder what went wrong. Could the only pair of green eyes had taken so long? Only to express the feelings they had. Just because they wanted to be free so bad. Now green eyes are stricken with knives, And blue eyes are risking their lives. For the love they had finally found, Was merely to be found in the ground. Tears of hate, and tears of depression. Scared to let go of this only true session. For what has become of this awful world? Why did society have to kill a green eyed girl? Now they both stand apart, Knowing they shouldn’t have stolen hearts. Blue eyes are sad and broken. And green eyes are just a part of what has been spoken. So eyes of green, and eyes of blue. Have come to this part that’s barely even true. Some are faded, and some are gold. Maybe for once, the truth could finally be told.
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“Lost Rolling Girl's Weeping”
by McKenzie Siemientkowski • ATCTC Artwork
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“Window Pane” • by
Nicole Yost - ATCTC -
•
Honorable Mention Artwork
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“Owls in Moonlight” by Keelan Samples - ATCTC • Artwork
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“Christmas Night” • by
Matthew Nowack - ATCTC -
•
Honorable Mention Artwork
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“The Amazing Ring of Fire” • by Harley Chase - Rogers -
•
Honorable Mention Photography
“Cabin in the Woods” by Bayleigh Spears - ATCTC • Photography
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“Escape” • by Sarah Kelley - LCHS -
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HonorableMention Photography - 37 -
Honorable Mention • Non-Fiction
All About Me
• • by Erin Thacker • LCHS • •
I've always striven
to be a leader. I want to be the type of person that people can look up to.
I
want to be that humble, down-to-earth person who leaves people better than I found them.
I've gone
through trials in my life that challenged me and made me into the person I am today. The good, bad, ugly,
amazing,
messy,
and
sometimes
really
devastating
days
“Road to Serenity” • by Jason Pruitt
have
- Central -
•
made me who I am, and I
Honorable Mention Photography
would not change a thing.
I was born on June
20, 1996, at ECM to Kirk and Jennifer Thacker (also known as the greatest parents ever). I was their first child. Eleven short months later my brother was born. I learned very quickly that my brother was the best friend I could have ever asked for. I had a wonderful childhood that included learning how to throw a strike and sinking a perfect free throw. With a dad and brother so athletic, how could I not do these things? My childhood also included lemonade stands, tea parties, building forts, and jumping from couch to couch because the floor was hot lava. What made my childhood even greater is that I got to grow up in my favorite place
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All About Me
• Honorable Mention Non-Fiction •
Erin Thacker
on planet earth: the small town of Rogersville, Alabama.
Unexpected things happen sometimes. At first, we did not understand it, but later it
all made sense. I was six years old when my mom realized that something was wrong. I did not have any energy and would lie around the house the majority of the time. My parents took me to Children's Hospital in Birmingham where they ran what seemed like a million tests. Ultimately, I had to have a biopsy to figure out exactly what was wrong. The result was that I had Hodgkin's Lymphoma, which is a type of cancer. This was a moment that absolutely rocked my world and turned it upside down. I went through seven months of chemotherapy and radiation. It was a long, hard couple of months, but I've always been a fighter. In July 2013, I was cured.
I am a firm believer in the saying, "Everything happens for a reason." God has a plan
for my life, and He holds my future. What I went through as a child has taught me so much about strength, bravery, and determination. Honestly, it taught me what life is all about. Life is short.
While we are here, we should love
fearlessly and laugh every minute we can. I truly mean that, those throw your head back, make your stomach hurt kinds of laughs. To me, a day without laughter is a day wasted.
In conclusion, I would not be the person I am
today if it were not for the trials I have faced. I hope that my story would encourage others to persevere through any obstacle they may face.
I hope to
change peoples' lives for the better and be someone my parents are proud of.
“Puppy”
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by Brianna Wolfgang • ATCTC Photography
Honorable Mention • Poetry
Memories
• • by Jason Pruitt • Central • • Is a day more than a small memory that the brain holds inside its tiny cells? Memories are our history. But what happens if part of our brain fails? Will we lose all of our sweet memories? But would it be a blessing or a curse To lose the painful memories? Nay, they make us stronger, of course. They give us strength to push on during life Even through the most difficult route. Do not be afraid to put up with strife To protect your memories from your doubt. Darkness fills the voids of memories of light Until drowned we find ourselves lost in night.
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“Hedgehog”
by Brianna Wolfgang • ATCTC Photography
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Honorable Mention • Poetry
Dead Roses, Too • • by Kaitlyn Tatum • LCHS • • Let It Run Down My Arm, Thick And Warm. Started At The Shoulder, Ended Six Under. Tear It Top To Bottom, Pull It Apart. It Pools On The Tips Of My Fingers, Drips Down To My Toes. Drop To My Knees, Try To Clean It Away. They’ll Try To Put Me Together, But I Was Never Whole. White Roses And Red Roses And Dead Roses too, You’ve All Come To Visit, Sorry, Can’t Talk When I’m Sleeping. I’ll Sleep Till I Breathe, But I Don’t Think I Want To.
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“Sunset on Kasmeier Road” by Stokes Kasmeier • ATCTC Photography
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Honorable Mention • Non-Fiction
Choices
• • by Jason • Central • •
One
of
the
most
overlooked freedoms we have is the right to make choices. Each day brings familiar choices
and that
common we
must
make, such as what we want to eat or what want to we wear. It is the choices that we are forced to make, however, that can change us and the world around
“Still Life”
us the most.
• by Hannah Richardson
On March 14, 2012,
in a blink of an eye, my life
- ATCTC -
was changed in ways I had
Honorable Mention Artwork
•
never imagined possible. My grandparents were on
their way to the doctor when a driver blacked out and crashed into them. I was in biology class when teachers rushed into the classroom to tell me the tragic news. My grandfather was sent to our local hospital, and my grandmother was med-flighted to the nearest trauma hospital in Huntsville. I am very close to both of my grandparents and having to choose which one to go with was one of the hardest choices of my life. This choice taught me that sometimes we have to make rash decisions and hope we made the right one.
Unfortunately, I made the wrong one. We decided to go with my grandmother since
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Choices
• Honorable Non-Fiction •
Jason
Unfortunately, I made the wrong one. We decided to go with my grandmother since
her injuries, which consisted of a broken neck, bruised ribs, and others were more significant than my grandfather's. However, my grandfather later that day suffered a heart attack as a result of the trauma he received in the wreck and was med-flighted to Huntsville. My grandfather was put into an induced coma for approximately two-and-a-half months. My whole family, including my grandmother, spent most of this time by his side. While he did wake up for a few weeks, he eventually passed away, still in the ICU. If I had just made the choice to go with my grandfather, I would have been able to receive the gift of hearing his voice for a few more hours before it was taken away from him.
My choice, even though it was the logical one, ended up being the wrong one. Choices
are powerful things, and we must learn to face the consequences of the ones we make. The best lesson I have learned from this event is that we must live our lives to the fullest since we never know what God's plans are for us.
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“Craftmatic” • by Logan Hanback - Brooks • Artwork
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Honorable Mention • Poetry
Allegiances of Old • • by Levi Bevis • Central • • As teens see it, Older people talk of “glory days,” Days that contained no dismays. Yet, so often we find ourselves doing it. We say,” Remember when life was good?” On occasion we do or we do not. We want to remember the good a lot. However, we forget the loss that was not good. We cling tightly to allegiances of old, Lost times that we wish to be retold. Never again can we enter that fold, For they are forbidden stories of old. In these tales, we hear of close friends, Times were great, no worry found That is, until that friend soon turned around Tempers flared, feelings were hurt, and they lose that once close friend. The scars of battle refuse to heal. Times became turbulent amid the aftermath, As they left the cordial trail due to a fork in their paths. Each trying to allow his wounds time to heal. No matter what remedy is used, Memories are not fond of leaving, And the lonely soul must get used to bereaving A friendship lost that will never be again used.
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Honorable Mention • Poetry
An Autumn Night • • by Savannah Owen • LCHS • • Cool breezes swirl around my hair, And the wind urges the giant trees to shake off their leaves Of red, gold and brown They crunch under the weight of my steps Looking up, I see the dark night sky, laced with brilliant, shimmering stars. The moon a glowing orb Nature and all her beauty are resting And as dawn approaches Another autumn day is here.
“Simple Balance” • by Ivy Stover - ATCTC -
•
Honorable Mention Artwork - 45 -
Honorable Mention • Non-Fiction
More Than Just A Club • • by Levi Bevis• Central • •
As high school students,
we are strongly encouraged by many around us to be involved in our schools. Some are encouraged to join sports teams, others are pushed
to
achieve
academic
success, and still others are expected to join school clubs and organizations. While sports teams and academic pursuits play an important role in an enjoyable high school experience, joining a club is often overlooked when it comes to making memories. In my high school career, being involved through clubs at my school has allowed me many unique opportunities available
“The Dark Halls”
solely to club members. Key Club has
• by Hannah Gautney
especially enriched my life in more
- LCHS -
ways than I can say.
•
Honorable Mention Photography
At first glance, many students
and teachers are not familiar with Key Club. One of the most common
jokes delivered to club members is the famous, or rather infamous, question, "Does your
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More Than Just A Club
• Honorable Non-Fiction •
Levi Bevis
jokes delivered to club members is the famous, or rather infamous, question, "Does your club really make keys?" Despite common misconceptions and humor, Key Club does not make keys. Instead, Key Club is a community service organization that seeks to better all members' homes, schools, and communities. We seek to help our neighbors, even if they are across our city, state, nation, or the world. Our motto says it best: "Caring, our way of life."
Key Club has impacted my life in dramatic ways. I have been an active member of the
club for four years now. Each year, I have learned valuable life skills, such as leadership, communication, cooperation, service, and organization that will help me in my future career. This club has taught me that determination, hard work, and a positive mindset can accomplish even the greatest of tasks. I have learned much about myself, my school, and my community through this incredible organization. It continues to push me to seek new opportunities to serve those around me. It makes me a better student as well as a more proactive member of society.
While Key Club has had a considerable amount of influence on my life skills, my
favorite part of this organization is the friendships that I have established through it. Not only have I strengthened friendships with students around the county, but I have also made numerous new friendships with students from around the nation. I have been blessed to meet some of my closest friends through Key Club, and these friendships will last a lifetime. This organization has truly expanded my horizons. From meeting new people to serving others, this club has benefitted every aspect of my life.
I am exceptionally grateful for the experiences offered by Key Club. Clubs are much
more than a way to be involved in school. They can open doors to us that we never thought were possible. They allow us to experience life with our friends while also allowing us to give back. They develop leaders, productive workers, better students, and a stronger community. Clubs, especially Key Club, have given me incredible memories that will not fade. I am excited to see what lies in store for this fantastic organization.
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“Agateophobia” • by McKenzie Siemientkowski - ATCTC -
• Honorable Mention Artwork
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“Fashion Design” • by Briley Walker - Lexington • Artwork
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Honorable Mention • Poetry
Home At Midnight • • by Madison Jones • LCHS • • The skin is open, the blood drips. I look at the once beautiful dress, now covered in rips. My makeup is smeared, my hair a mess, and all the pain comes from that dress. Red as the blood that now drips from my limb, the mood that it has set reigns awfully grim. The way my sisters tore it apart, truly relinquished my breaking heart. The pearl earrings still hang from my ears, the ones I’ve saved for now seventeen years. No prince to save my horrid day, no mice with which me to play. Threw away the key, I’m a prisoner, without a trial. I step into a room with floors of tile, feeling like I’ve run a mile. My hands slip over the door’s rims, I feel metal and my head spins. In front of my eyes, I see my evil mother’s demise. A door unlocked with a forgotten key, I leave no room for anyone to see. My escape is quick, and I rest alone. I try not to remember mother’s condescending tone. The air twinkles, my mind races, light floods everywhere, there are no dark spaces. A woman appears, bathed in light, her wonderful image fills my sight. “Just one night,” she whispers, “Don’t forget be home at midnight.”
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Honorable Mention • Poetry
Demon of Desperation • • by Kaitlyn Tatum • LCHS • • It seems so strange, your embrace around me. It should feel safe; it should feel comforting. Instead, you wrap chains around me, tie a noose around my neck. You drag me down, down to your level. This is my fault. You're my demon. Let me go. Give me the freedom I long for. You told me you would help. You only wanted to use me. Demon of desperation, why did I think of you? You've carved a home for yourself into my heart and soul.
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“Indian Headdress” • by Emily Franklin • ATCTC Artwork
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“Tunnel of Trees”
• by Christopher John Hartzell •LCHS Photography
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“The Guitar”
• by Tanner Bayes • LCHS Artwork
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"Writing is an act of faith, not a trick of grammar." - E.B. White -
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