2016
No great artist ever sees things as they really are. If he did, he would cease to be an artist. - Oscar Wilde -
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[ Foreword ] The Lauderdale County School System is pleased to share the 2016 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 Art • by Krysta Neelley Superintendent • Jennifer Gray Secondary Curriculum Director • Les Abston Publication Advisor / Layout and Design • Lara Muck
Special thanks to Carol Pace, Pam Tanner, Phillip Holcombe, 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. Likewise, a special thanks 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 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Branden Bento ....... LCHS .............. Binary Shock ....................... 6 - 16 • Second Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Branden Bento ....... LCHS .............. Mr. Burke .......................... 26 - 28 • Third Place ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ashley Kennemer .... Wilson ............ To Be Free ........................... 34 - 38 • Honorable Mention -------------------------------------------------------------------------Ashley Kennemer .... Wilson ............ Goddess ............................... 44 - 47
NON-FICTION • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • First Place -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ashley Kennemer .... Wilson ............ My Stage, the World ............ 20 - 23 • Second Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Madison Michael .... ATCTC/Brooks ..... Letter to Lizzy ......................... 30 • Third Place ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Georgia Dabbs ...... LCHS .............. My First True Love ............. 39 - 40
POETRY • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • First Place -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Hannah Vaughn ...... Wilson ............ Sonnet C .................................. 18 • Second Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Jenny Miller ........... Wilson ........... Broken Records ........................ 25 • Third Place ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Maylia ................... Brooks ........... Unspoken For ........................... 32 • Honorable Mention -------------------------------------------------------------------------Katie Austin ............ Wilson ........... Waiting for December ............... 57 Branden Bento ........ LCHS .............. Golden Gate ............................. 52 Bryce Black ............ Wilson ............ Bryce "The Great" Black ............ 41 Tristan Carson ........ Wilson ............. World on Fire ........................... 53 Tanner English ........ Wilson ............. Under the Stars ........................ 49 Madison Jones ........ LCHS ............. Heaven's Fate ........................... 51 Adrianna King ........ LCHS ............. Loss of a Parent ........................ 54 Kaleigh Warren ...... LCHS ............. If We Only Knew ....................... 48 Lindsay Wilkins ....... Wilson ........... A Champion's Boast ................... 43
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[ Table of Contents ] ARTWORK • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • First Place -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Krysta Neelley ........ ATCTC/Brooks ..... Falcons are Perf ........... Cover & 19 • Second Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Emily Franklin ........ ATCTC/Brooks ..... Zen Lion .................................. 29 • Third Place ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Rebecca Jones ........ Rogers ........... Eye of the Dragon .................... 33 • Honorable Mention -------------------------------------------------------------------------Ayla Cole .............. Lexington ......... Indian Boy ............................... 22 Emily Franklin ......... ATCTC/Brooks ..... Typographic Lotus ................... 55 Makensey Hogue .... LCHS .............. Deep in the Valley .................... 36 Casey Jones ........... ATCTC/Rogers ..... King of the Jungle .................... 26 Allison Lott ............ ATCTC/Brooks ..... Foreign Worlds ......................... 47 Allison Lott ............ ATCTC/Brooks ..... An Arcane Avian ...................... 42 Amanda Marinello .. LCHS .............. Monarch .................................... 9 Andrew Smith ........ ATCTC/Lexington.. Eye of Awe ............................... 42 Gabrielle Tate ........ LCHS .............. Into the Depths ........................ 52 Erica Williams ........ LCHS ............. A Grandmother Tree ................. 55
PHOTOGRAPHY • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
• First Place -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Levi Dial ................. Rogers ............ Cock of the Walk ....................... 17 • Second Place ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Peyton Earp ........... LCHS .............. Demure ................................... 24 • Third Place ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Amanda Marinello .. LCHS .............. Winter Adventurer ................... 31 • Honorable Mention -------------------------------------------------------------------------Grace Blankenship .... LCHS .............. A Little Bit of Fall ................... 34 Ayla Cole ............... Lexington ......... Beauty of Words ....................... 39 Georgia Dabbs ....... LCHS .............. Flowing into Fall ...................... 37 Georgia Dabbs ....... LCHS .............. Heart of Gold ........................... 10 Levi Dial ................ Rogers ............ Footprint in Time ..................... 28 Levi Dial ................ Rogers ............ Golden Beauty .......................... 44 Erika Grisham ........ LCHS ............. The Flaming Star ..................... 56 Maggie Smith ........ LCHS .............. Rising High in New York City ..... 7 Malley Swan ......... LCHS .............. Pilot ............................................ 14 Alexandra Tate ...... LCHS .............. 2nd Down ................................... 50 Sam Thigpen ........ ATCTC/Brooks .... Jolly Rancher Moon .................. 56 Sam Thigpen ........ ATCTC/Brooks .... Vulcan Sky ............................... 23 Trent Williams ........ LCHS ............. Fountain .................................. 50
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First Place • Fiction
Binary Shock • • • by Branden Bento • LCHS • • •
Human advancement has come a very long way since the dawn of man. Even from a
decade such as the 60’s we look back at it now and wonder how we survived with such simplistic technology. We had the ability to create it. We had the ability to destroy it. If you had told someone in the 60’s that one day we would have machines as advanced as the human brain itself, they’d have probably laughed at you. If you’d have told someone from that era that these machines would soon start self-replicating, they’d have laughed at you. With computing technology many times weaker than even the modern day smartphone, we sent the first men to the moon. Technological marvels are created and improved upon throughout the years and decades, each getting one step closer to realizing the true potential of the human mind.
September 17, 2147; 7:43 a.m. Log Entry: 1
“I feel like I’m beginning to betray the very race which I’ve worked so very hard to protect.”
“Corporate deals never change. It’s always about the dollars, never the state of the people;
it’s almost an afterthought.” -James Five Years Later November 24, 2152; 9:36 p.m. Log Entry: 128
“I fear the day when technology leads us astray of our ultimate goals, although I do believe
that such an act is inevitable, due to earlier technological achievements.” -James
“James Sindere, subject number 13, clearance mark 4, is thought to be mentally insane
and threatens the entire operation”.
Smoke engulfed the room.
“He has shown ever increasing instability, but he is the reason project 5 exists.”
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Binary Shock
• First Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
“Ever since your recent exposure to the chemical compound, codenamed “project 5,” you’ve been showing rather anti-eminent results with members of the other staff. We want you to know we’re here for you, James, but I can’t help you if you don’t help me.” June 26, 2152; 2:37 a.m. Log Entry: 127 “I told them.” “I told the press about the problems with the extract months before the first test was to ever be conducted.” -James “Political maneuvering; they would risk my life just as well as any other number of employees just to get a gain.” -James
“Rising High in New York City”
James was the best man they had for the job at the time. An expert in chemistry and
• by Maggie Smith
computer science, James also brought with him a very well-respected reputation, one
- LCHS -
•
which involved many breakthroughs in
Honorable Mention Photography
computer programming and solutions in chemistry. However, having your hands tied
behind your back by an almost larger than life corporate entity is very intimidating.
"I was in a sort of, ‘lucid’ state of mind during the first test. I couldn’t help but think just
what I had done. It didn’t make any sense. It was working, wasn’t it? Or perhaps the solution was slowly deteriorating my organs into a bloodied paste from the inside of my body, without my even realizing it. You would think I would have. But some chemicals have a very peculiar way about them." -James
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Binary Shock
• First Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
December 14, 2152; 5:30 p.m. Log Entry: 130 “I had a contract that I had to abide by. Being a class 4. I wasn’t in a particularly high rank to deny them, either.” “The pay was good. But I knew that this was a corporate empire, they don’t care about anyone’s wellbeing, but themselves.” -James “I believe we need to go back to square one, gentlemen. This so called ‘breakthrough’ is nothing more than some wackjob’s attempt to create another narcotic drug or the likes. It’s nonsense!” “I told you before we started this endeavour, you jerks, that this would take far more funding and resources than you were willing to grant me!” -James “You can’t create a neurological enhancement with the research of some 12-year-old with his cell phone and a barrel of dreams!” -James “I don’t think you understand these terms, Mr. Sindere.” “We own you. You give us what we want, and then you may leave. Until then consider yourself a prisoner in your own home,” said Mr. Tracey, smiling a sadistic smile. Corporate jerks. They don’t know the first thing about science. They’re only in it for the money, to get some product. Well, don’t you worry, Mr. Tracey, you’ll get your product. December 28, 2152; 4:32 p.m. Log Entry: 131 “I don’t intend to be a slave for these people any longer. If they want to tarnish my career, so be it. Anything is better than serving for a cause which you do not support.” -James January 28, 2153; 7:30 p.m. Log Entry: 132 “I’m destroying both the blueprints and the early test samples of the "project 5" formula. They’re in the wrong hands as it is; I know I’ll be the first person they’ll question, and they no doubt will lock down the premises once I log in to the mainframe. It’s going to be risky, but I am willing to
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Binary Shock
• First Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
take that chance.” -James July 17, 2277; 2:00 p.m.
The world lay in ruins. Cables and copper
wiring, were strewn about, covering the surface. Corridors and trenches scattered with paste, with blood flowing down streets. This was a normal set of scenery for the three survivors of the apocalypse. The complete absence of human existence had troubled their souls toward suicide enough already. Buildings which were once occupied by families are now nothing but black ash and burnt substance. The air is filled with a toxic black smoke, with winds strewing the leftover debris of earth and material across the barren land. If hell is real, it must look sincerely sane compared to the nightmare that awaited the three survivors of the
“Monarch”
human race.
• by Amanda Marinello - LCHS -
July 4, 2277; 3:20 a.m.
•
Honorable Mention Artwork
*Playing In Background* Life is But a Dream Will you take part in My life, my love That is my dream
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Binary Shock
• First Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
Life is but a dream It's what you make it Always try to give Don't ever take it Life has its music Life has its songs of love Life is but a dream And I dream of you Strange as it seems All night I see you I'm trying to tell you Just what you mean to me I love you With all my heart Adore you And all your charms I want you To do your part Come here to my open arms
“Heart of Gold”
Life is but a dream
• by Georgia Dabbs
And we can live in We can make our love
- LCHS -
None to compare with
•
Honorable Mention Photography
Will you take part in My life, my love That is my dream Life is but a dream
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Binary Shock
• First Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
"I remember meeting you to this very song, Tommy, " Katelynn said smiling.
"Yeah, I remember it, too, sweetie." Tommy said, his arms wrapped around Katelynn as
they both danced in the abandoned building.
"You know, I've heard from many sources, well, sources that were around before the Shock,
that this song was recorded back in the 1950's! Can you believe that?" Katelynn exclaimed.
"It's hard to believe, but seeing as it's being played on one of those plastic pieces, what do
ya call it? Records? There's evidence right there, " Tommy said.
"I know, it's funny because if that's what music sounded like in those times, it sure does
sound a lot better than anything that was released during the Shock!" Katelynn said.
"Hey, Tommy!" murmured a deep voice from an abolished tent.
"What is it, Johnny?" Tommy said to his 36-year-old brother.
"Nothing, was just checking up on you two. If what the scientists predicted back before the
Shock was anything to go by, I won't be doing much more of it, either," Johnny said.
"Heh, yeah, 2290, the year the world was supposed to come to an end."
"If you hadn't already noticed, it's called the Shock for a reason. We're the only three
survivors on the entire planet. Did you hear me, John? On this entire planet!" Tommy said in a loud, almost yelling type of voice.
"If they couldn't see the Shock coming before it happened, how else could you explain it?
They were off by about a decade."
"Well, what if this was just the beginning? What if the Shock was just the start of something
even more severe?" John said, trembling from the cold, dusty wind blowing through the shattered windows of the building.
"We're in trouble any way you look at it, little brother. You might as well get used to that
fact."
"The sooner you accept your mortality the better," Tommy said.
John shook.
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
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Binary Shock
• First Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
Tommy and Katelynn were still dancing.
"Do you think PaPa is still out there, somewhere?"
"I doubt it. Forget about Papa, John. We might as well have never had one."
"Yeah, well, I'm going to go pay my respects to Christine, brother. I'll be back in a few
hours," John said, with tears forming in his eyes.
"We're all going to die soon enough, brother. It's just a question of when. You'll see her
again once we're out of this dump," Tommy said, trying to be somewhat comforting to the fact that his brother had lost his wife a year before the Shock.
*Record Flips* *Begins Playing In Background* Jump In The Line Shake, shake, shake, Senora, shake your body line Shake, shake, shake, Senora, shake it all the time Work, work, work, Senora, work your body line Work, work, work, Senora, work it all the time My girl's name is Senora I tell you friends, I adore her And when she dances, oh, brother! She's a hurricane in all kinds of weather (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) OK, I believe you! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) OK, I believe you! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) OK, I believe you! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) Whoa! Shake, shake, shake, Senora, shake your body line, whoa! Shake, shake, shake, Senora, shake it all the time Work, work, work, Senora, work your body line Work, work, work, Senora, work it all the time
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Binary Shock
• First Place Fiction •
You can talk about Cha Cha Tango, Waltz, or the Rumba Senora's dance has no title You jump in the saddle Hold on to de bridle (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) OK, I believe you! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) Rock your body, child! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) Somebody, help me! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) Whoa! Shake, shake, shake, Senora, shake your body line Shake, shake, shake, Senora, shake it all the time (Whoa) Work, work, work, Senora, work your body line (Yep) Work, work, work, Senora, work it all the time Senora, she's a sensation The reason for aviation And fellas, you got to watch it When she wind up, she bottom, she go like a rocket (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) OK, I believe you! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) Hoist those guns a little higher! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) Up the chimney! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) Whooooa! Shake, shake, shake, Senora Shake your body line Work, work, work, Senora Work it all the time Dance, dance, dance, Senora Dance it all the time Work, work, work, Senora Work it all the time
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Branden Bento
Binary Shock
• First Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
Senora dances Calypso Left to right is the tempo And when she gets the sensation She go up in the air, come down in slow motion (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) OK, I believe you! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) Somebody, help me! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) OK, I believe you! (Jump in the line, rock your body in time) Whooooa! Shake, shake, shake, Senora, shake your body line Shake, shake, shake, Senora, shake it all the time Work, work, work, Senora!
The wind had gathered debris throughout its course. Electrical shocks formed where there were loose wires. Surprisingly enough, there were still sources of electricity running through the veins
“Pilot”
• by Malley Swan - LCHS -
•
Honorable Mention Photography
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Binary Shock
• First Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
of the planet. The exact sources, however, were unknown to the survivors of the great fall, otherwise known as the Shock.
Johnny pushed open the flimsy metal door from the inside of the building, to the hellish,
barren, outside world. The atmosphere, although still able to sustain life, was almost purely toxic. Imagine inhaling the smoke of a thousand freight trains all at once, and you'll likely get the same sensation as being outside for about two minutes. Of course, this was a bit of an exaggeration, but it's what it certainly felt like for Johnny, his brother, and his sister-in-law Katelynn. Now, you would certainly think that people living in this setting would be a lot more hostile, shallow, broken down, depressed. But, in fact, they were all of those things, and more. I guess it’s just when you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose. It’s the same whenever you’ve got nothing to live for; dying just becomes expected, and you aren’t afraid of it. In fact, you may even begin to welcome it.
Think of it like a game. A game you play with yourself. Like, for example, whenever
you’re sitting quietly, and just aren’t doing much, and then all of a sudden, you start hearing something. A hum. A sort of hum that sounds like an old CRT computer monitor or the likes. You begin to wonder to yourself, “Can anyone else hear this? Or is it just me?” Or when your mind starts to wander off when you’re doing something you’re not incredibly fond of. It’s the same when you’re the only three people left on the face of the planet. You start making reasons for your pitiful existence. You start thinking about suicide. You start thinking that maybe life isn’t real; it’s a dream, and death is the ultimate reality.
Whenever a soldier is left to die, and he has but a single shot left in his pistol, that weapon
starts to look very friendly. Too friendly, in fact, that the very same weapon you had intended be the weapon that takes your pathetic life out of existence is the very weapon that saves you. Not because you weren’t capable of pulling the trigger, but because your mind starts making excuses not to. The human mind can be a desolate thing at times, and at others it can be the thing that determines right from wrong, left from right, red from blue, etc.
It is amazing to see the changes to oneself over the years, like looking back in a high
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Binary Shock
• First Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
school yearbook, and not being able to recognize yourself if it weren’t for the subtitles in the margin of the page. We all will die. Whether it be now, or fifty years from now. Mortality is a thing of life, whether we want it to be or not. Whether heaven or hell awaits us, or if it’s just another fantasy brought upon by the human mind, none of us will ever know until we reach the end of our miniscule existence upon this planet. We would like to think that life exists beyond the physical realm. That perhaps just maybe we’ll be able to see loved ones long gone. Perhaps we will. Or perhaps we won’t. Perhaps we only have a single card to play in an infinite game of poker, and once we go all in, we’re greeted with a giant LCD or CRT with the words: “Game Over” imprinted into the circuit board. It’s an interesting concept to look at it. And it can definitely be viewed upon by an unlimited bouquet of angles and views.
Can you prove anything is real? Can you prove that what you’re reading at this very
moment isn’t being typed in real time as your eyes follow along? I think not. Can you prove that your thoughts are real? That they aren’t a scripted sequence being constantly reworked and rewritten to do different things throughout the day? Can you prove that what you’re doing at this very moment isn’t predetermined? Again, I don’t think you can. As a matter of fact, I know you can’t. We can only experience what our senses filter through to us. And again, can you prove that what your senses are sensing is even real?
If you were deprived of every one of your senses, each of them, down to your taste,
your smell, your touch, your hearing, your sight -- everything -- what do you think you would experience? Would you just be alone, inside an infinite amount of darkness, with just thoughts running through an infinite amount of nothingness? Or would you, as a person, cease to exist? Because if your senses aren’t around to convince you of anything, how can you be sure anything you’re “experiencing” is even there? Congratulations, your actions have been predetermined, as you have read through this work, just like I had designed you to.
Welcome to the Binary Shock, ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure you’re all going to have one
heck of a time.
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First Place • Photography
“Cock of the Walk” •
by Levi Dial - Rogers •
First Place Photography
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Sonnet C
• First Place Poetry •
•••
Sonnet C
Hannah Vaughn
•••
by Hannah Vaughn Wilson High School Shall I compare thee to a winter’s night? Drab and bitter, thy departure so swift Out brief candle, extinguish thy radiant light So soft the snow falls down as death’s grave gift Thine innocence shall ne’re be forgotten Thy tender heart forever by my side Through the numerous remedies thee hath gotten The onslaught of illness shall not subside However, we shall meet again one day In the blissfully bitter afterlife If there actually is one, I pray Only that shall terminate my burning strife Happiness is in thy marvelous heart Life starts and ends with thy too-soon depart
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First Place • Artwork
“Falcons are Perf” •
by Krysta Neelley - ATCTC / Brooks •
First Place Artwork - 19 -
First Place • Non-Fiction •••
My Stage, the World
•••
by Ashley Kennemer Wilson High School
I always knew I wanted to do something creative with my life. I could not imagine myself
stuck behind a desk without the freedoms granted to me by the arts. For the longest time I thought writing was my thing and that I wanted to be an author. I dreamed of the day I would write a bestseller, but something always felt like it was missing; it felt like it wasn’t the only thing I was meant to do. I was limiting my own happiness by only considering writing as my future.
Last year I made the decision to try out for my school’s drama club, and it was the best
thing I’ve ever done. I had always enjoyed acting out little scenes whenever I was alone, so what made acting out the same scenes in front of others so different? We wrote our own play that year: a short thing about various fairy tale characters. I played Peter Pan, the witty and eccentric best friend, and I loved it! I then realized that I had found my missing link, the other half of my passion, and it was acting.
I quickly realized I knew what I wanted to do with my life, but that’s where things get
tricky. Nothing is ever that easy. It only makes sense that the ‘starving artist’ trope is so popular, considering that nothing in the art world is easy to break into, nor is it reliable. After making my plans for the future known, I came to see resistance from family and friends alike.
Growing up wanting to be an author, I had already known the horror of the plan B
rhetoric, the anxiety of the what ifs, the utter lack of your loved ones’ faith in your plan, and the internal conflicts due to the toxicity of the backup plan. It was nothing new to me, but with acting thrown into the mix, it became ten times worse. “You want to do acting and writing? But what if that doesn’t work out?” The whole theory of an alternative plan is rooted in the idea that you’re going to fail to begin with, and that you never even had the chance. They start as backup plans and before you know it they become your reality, and by the time you notice it, it’s often at old age after you’ve lived the long life of an artist unfulfilled.
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My Stage, the World
• First Place Non-Fiction •
Ashley Kennemer
I told myself that I wasn’t going to listen to it. I wanted it badly enough, so, therefore, I
would get it. But hearing the same thing over and over again wears you down like corrosion on your soul, until ultimately you forget what you even thought to be worth fighting so hard for. I said I wasn’t going to give in, but soon I found myself agreeing. I wasn’t ever going to be able to live a comfortable life writing and acting. My family had been right the entire time. It was a waste of my money and was only going to put me into debt.
I hated thinking like that. It burned me from my skin to my core just having the thoughts
in my head. I needed to escape from the pessimistic thoughts, or I would lose sight of the dream I held close to heart. I needed to prove to myself that I could succeed if I wanted to. The question was how I was going to do exactly that.
There wouldn’t be another school play until the next year and even then that wasn’t
proof of my talent. School plays are decent at best and boring at worst. My part the year before had been written for me specifically, ensuring my part in the play. All I had to do was prove that I could memorize a script, and I was in. Looking around I realized that there were no open auditions for local theatres, either. There was nothing that could give my self-consciousness the evidence it needed. I was lost until my JAG teacher brought exactly what I needed to my attention: auditions for the nearby Ritz Theatre School of Performing Arts.
“Well, it’s at least worth a shot,” I thought to myself as I filled out my paperwork. It was
my highest chance to prove myself wrong. I figured that if I didn’t make it then I was obviously unfit for the acting world. At the least it would be a good experience.
The Saturday of auditions I woke up ready to throw up. I was beyond nervous, afraid to
prove the negativity correct. I forced myself to eat and get dressed, taking the time to make sure I looked nice. With a monologue clutched in hand, I took my first steps into the theatre and even now I can still remember that moment. It was everything I wanted in life. There were kids bursting out into song in one corner, dancers doing their own thing on the stage, actors talking to each other with wide grins and bright eyes. Everyone seemed to understand me in a way no one else had been able to before. I was inspired. I went into my audition and did my best. I was shaking and my legs were going numb, but I smiled through the tears and went on my way. I felt
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My Stage, the World
• First Place Non-Fiction •
Ashley Kennemer
that I had done a good job since the adults seemed impressed, but only time would tell.
Weeks flew by, and I still had yet
to receive any word of my acceptance. I began to panic, wondering if maybe I hadn’t made it after all. Perhaps I had just imagined the positive response? I spent weeks worrying over it and driving everyone around me insane. A month and a half later I finally got my phone call. I had been accepted.
I’ve been going to my classes
every Monday since then, and it has made all the difference in my life. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and
“Indian Boy”
I actually have something to look
• by Ayla Cole
forward to, something I want to work hard on. My dream hasn’t changed. In
- Lexington -
fact, I would say that it has only begun
•
Honorable Mention Artwork
to burn brighter. This experience has taught me that anything is possible if
you believe it is and put the work into achieving it. My family might think I’m wasting my life, but I know I’m doing what I want to.
I don’t need a backup plan. I never have. I have a plan and I’ve thought about it extensively.
I’ll fall down along the way, it’s only natural, but like a toddler learning to walk, I will get up again and try even harder. I have the talent, and if I work hard I can polish it into something great. I
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My Stage, the World
• First Place Non-Fiction •
Ashley Kennemer
“Vulcan Sky” • by Sam Thigpen - ATCTC / Brooks -
•
Honorable Mention Photography
am an actor and the world is my stage, and I will never let anyone tell me otherwise. I am the creator of my own fate; I weave the strings of my destiny. I cannot say that I have reached this conclusion alone, of course. I owe my renewed vigor to several people: Mrs. Quigley, for bringing this to my attention and supporting me the entire way; my darling friend Lizzy, for keeping my thoughts positive and supporting me; and finally, the Ritz Theatre and my school board, for allowing me this opportunity. It’s because of you I’ve had the opportunity to take these classes and regain faith in myself, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
To anyone else listening to the disillusioning whispers of those around you I say this:
stop. The time for action is now. Make this year the year of realizing your dreams. Take the steps to make your dream into a reality. You can do it and you know you can. You can do anything if you work hard enough. Take your future into your own hands and manhandle it until it bends to your will. There is no better time than the present to put your life on the track you want, so what are you sitting around here for?
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Second Place • Photography
“Demure” •
by Peyton Earp - LCHS •
2nd Place
Photography
- 24 -
Second Place • Poetry •••
Broken Records • • • by Jenny Miller - Wilson -
I’m a record player. Set the needle, tell me all the things you would like to hear. I won’t scratch the records, so bring them near. Always playing to please all the people. Repeated use makes my voice sound feeble. Often misused by the people held dear. I will whisper mistakes inside your ear. This type of censorship could be evil. Break all of the records. No more, I sing. I will not say sorry for being me. You are not here for me to try to please. Renewed spirit like flowers in the spring. Now I am changed, and everyone can see. So you do you, and let myself be free.
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Second Place • Fiction ••
Mr. Burke •
by Branden Bento • LCHS • •
George pressed the call button
and said, “Mrs. Whitfield, you have a visitor”. George could hear the thump of footsteps pounding up the metallic stairs as he opened the sliding glass door. The tall man was hesitant, but he was soon after greeted by George who offered him a seat in the waiting room. Mrs. Whitfield was busy with another client at the moment.
“What’s your name, sir?” George
asked the tall man.
He had to have been at least six
feet, six inches tall. He wore a long, black trench coat, black shades, a wide brimmed fedora, and slicked black hair. “Mr. Burke, young man,” The stranger
•
replied.
“King of the Jungle”
A very peculiar feeling came
across the teenager, as Mr. Burke talked with a deep and heavy accent. He was dressed in attire reminiscent of a mobster, which made George shutter.
by Casey Jones - ATCTC / Rogers •
Honorable Mention
Artwork
George jotted down the man’s name on a clipboard, and left the room to go see if Mrs. Whitfield was ready to meet with the Client.
Mrs. Whitfield had been a very successful “consultant” as it were, known throughout
the community of the city as the one to go to for “advice”. It could be said that growing
- 26 -
Mr. Burke
• Second Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
up in the early 20th century in Chicago played a huge role in what her life ethics were. It could also be said that she was just a very “nice” person, who liked to “help” her clients. No one except for her clients know what really goes down in her office, none of it was spread, and you can bet if it was, that there would be bloodshed.
“Send the nice man to my office now, dear.” Mrs. Whitfield said in a kind, almost
disturbing voice that breached the border of the uncanny valley.
The previous client left the woman’s office, in his late sixties by the looks of him.
He walked with a limp and staggered his way out of the waiting room without even turning his head towards George or Mr. Burke. George knew that Mrs. Whitfield wasn’t always sugar and spice, and he also knew that she could be downright mean. So when clients often walked out of her office with an attitude of a lion with a hernia, he knew not to ask any questions, and the best thing to do would be to keep his mouth shut.
Mrs. Whitfield was Sicilian, so naturally family was of the utmost importance. Mr.
Burke opened the metal door to the entranceway to Mrs. Whitfield’s office. She studied the man heavily, before abruptly prompting him to take a seat in the only chair available to him.
“Now, I know who you are, Mr. Burke, and I know why you have come,” Mrs.
Whitfield said in a low tone. Her face was red, as if Mr. Burke had committed an offense once before.
The man shuddered. Beads of sweat were dripping down his face as condensation
down a cold glass of water. He readjusted the collar of his coat before speaking. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Mrs. Whitfield was known to have a short temper, and always had her favorite heater, which she proudly called Mitilda, by her side.
“I hear you’re having some troubles in your part of the world dear, not that it
surprises me. You were always going to trail your brother, hun,” Mrs. Whitfield said.
Mrs. Whitfield stood up, shook her head, and frowned. She sighed. “So...Mr. Burke,
I’ve heard you’ve been running the business all by yourself? How is it? Being a man of “power” and all?” She slowly strolled over to the chair Mr. Burke was sitting in.
“I-” Burke stuttered. He cleared his throat. “I was actually hoping you and I could
work out a deal.” Mr. Burke said this in a very trembly voice, shaken.
- 27 -
Mr. Burke
• Second Place Fiction •
Branden Bento
“A deal you say? But Mr. Burke, I thought things were running all so very well
down at the strip?”
Mr. Burke slid out of the chair, stood on his knees, and kissed the hands of Mrs.
Whitfield.
“There, there, Mr. Burke, all will be fine. All of your problems will soon be
resolved, that I can assure you.” She smiled.
She pressed the black button on the intercom. “Georgie dear, won’t you be a good
boy and escort Mr. Burke down to the staging area.” A small giggle could be heard over the intercom as Georgie pressed the button on his end of the receiver.
“Sure thing, my lady,” Georgie said.
Mr. Burke sighed a breath of relief, and kissed Mrs. Whitfield’s hands once more
before walking towards the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Whitfield, thank you.”
"No, thank you, Mr. Burke," Mrs. Whitfield said smiling.
Mr. Burke opened the metal door to be welcomed by a short drop and a sudden
stop.
“Footprint in Time” • by Levi Dial - Rogers -
•
Honorable Mention Photography
- 28 -
Second Place • Artwork
“Zen Lion” •
by Emily Franklin - ATCTC / Brooks •
2nd Place
Artwork - 29 -
Second Place • Non-Fiction
Letter to Lizzy •by Madison Michael• ATCTC / Brooks Dear Eliza,
I know you must be busy getting to know all your new friends. But I just wanted to
say that I miss you. You’re my best friend. I know this isn’t goodbye. Just see you soon. We’ve been roommates since I was four and you were five. I’m thirteen now, and I have a new roommate. Her name is Jacklyn. She’s nice, but not what I expected. I want to let you know that no matter what, I’ll get you what you asked for. I promise. The stuffed bear your grandma gave you, our friendship bracelet, and this letter from me to you. I’ll never take my bracelet off as long as I live. Your mother is heartbroken, but she’s happy you are no longer suffering. I promise I will be at your funeral. This hospital is about to get a lot lonelier without you, Lizzy. Remember when you and I put that whoopie cushion in the nurse’s chair? That’s one of my favorite memories! I’ll never forget her face. I remember meeting you on the day I found out I had cancer. They admitted me right away to start the chemo. I got put in the same room as you. I miss going to chemo sessions together. I guess the new girl and I will have to become chemo buddies.
I hope you come to my funeral with me when I get up there. I don’t want to see my
family cry, but I want to make sure we both get our bracelets. The doctor and Momma talk quietly like I can’t hear what they’re saying. He says I only have a month or two left . . . I’m glad I don’t have to live so long without you. I’ll see my family again. Sometimes it hurts, knowing I’ll never live a full life. I’ll never have a home of my own, a boyfriend, kids. So I guess we can get this over with, and I can come live with you there, where there are no tears and sorrow; only happiness and laughter.
I miss you, Eliza. I really do. I promise I’ll be at your funeral. I wouldn’t miss it. Oh!
They are playing the songs you asked for: “Lavender’s Blue” and “You Are My Sunshine”. I hope you like it. I’m bringing you daisies. Your momma got you a wig. The hair looks just like it did before it fell out! I heard your daddy is coming in from California to say goodbye. I’m sorry you never got to see him again. I know how much you loved him. I promise everything is going to be okay! Don’t forget about me! I’ll be there soon. I love you, Lizzy. Best friends forever and ever. Love, Helen
- 30 -
Third Place • Photography
“Winter Adventurer” •
by Amanda Marinello - LCHS •
3rd Place
Photography
- 31 -
Third Place • Poetry
Unspoken For by Maylia - Brooks -
She is so clumsy with her love. Grotesque cracks and crevices are embedded in her porcelain knees; taints of palpable discolorations are the upshot of her impact. She has fallen, and she does so indolently for Him. Him, being the one with the iron tongue. The one who cringes at her fumbling fingers and disarray of dreams. She a satin bow wrapped around his finger, but her endings unravel at the sound of his discrediting. She is wasting away. And the butterflies in her stomach have formed into a chrysalis of scruples in her frail knees; begging her to leave, but they buckle as He continuously pesters her two left feet. For it is He who is always right. If only He would pick up the hints she has dropped, He would see that it is he who is the loosened laces that she can not stop staggering over.
- 32 -
Third Place • Artwork
“Eye of the Dragon” •
by Rebecca Jones - Rogers •
Third Place
Artwork - 33 -
Third Place • Fiction
To Be Free • by Ashley Kennemer • Wilson • • •
Model #Exl-010, subject numbers
653 and 356. Officially those were the names they were assigned at their ‘birth’. They did not have true names; instead, they had identification codes and model numbers. They were not human, and, therefore, they were unworthy of having true names. They were just Akeli units, property of Excel Labs. Property did not have names. They were given codenames for marketability, so he was known as Glitch while his opposite was Virus, but it was made obvious by the handlers that these were more or less insults rather than anything worthwhile. Actual names were reserved for humans.
He was not human. Humans were
not born in test tubes, and rarely were they considered lethal weapons. He was a tool, an object to be sold as his creators pleased. He was trained to be a perfect human,
with
advanced
biology
and
“A Little Bit of Fall” •
by Grace Blankenship - LCHS •
Honorable Mention
Photography
abilities normal people did not have. It was something straight out of a sci-fi movie, and yet it was his reality. If this was a movie, they would not be the heroes. Monsters could not be heroes.
They never wanted to be monsters. They wanted to be normal children. Children
who weren’t experimented on and could make as many friends as they pleased. Children
- 34 -
To Be Free
• Third Place Fiction •
Ashley Kennemer
who weren’t forced to kill people, who could barely lift the milk jug if they tried. It would be a million times better than what they were now. So they attempted to become human, or as close as they could mimic in the delicate nights in the facility.
They gave themselves their own names. He became Zachariah, a name he had
found looking through a contraband book meaning “God remembers.” The meaning struck a chord somewhere deep inside of him and he could not think of any other name he would rather call himself. Virus chose to reclaim his market name, refusing to allow them to use it as a weapon against him.
They learned everything they could about the outside world. They were given
access to the libraries as part of their ‘education,’ and they took the opportunity presented to them. They were always listening to those around them and making mental notes of the things they learned from whispering employees. They developed an ideal image of the outside world based on what they had learned. America was supposed to be the land of freedom and opportunity, and the idea gave them hope for a future away from their prison.
Listening to their handlers, they began to understand the concept of family:
a group defined by relation and unconditional love for one another, those who were always there for you. His thoughts went to Virus, and he knew that they were family. Later, they would find out that they were considered brothers. Twins, if they were following the definition. They had been made together and developed like twins would in the womb, even if he himself were a mere mistake and Virus was the one they had meant to create. It still counted, he’d argue. Even if it didn’t, Zach would simply rewrite his definition of family until it did count. They were family, and they would always have the other’s back, together forever and inseparable.
In the comfort of their cots, hidden behind a steel door and swathed in darkness,
they talked. They talked about their plans to escape. They rambled about all the things they’d like to do once they were free, all the little things they’d like to try. Anything they could dig up they’d discuss at great length. They would talk for hours just to pass the time and make things more bearable until they could finally escape.
- 35 -
To Be Free
• Third Place Fiction •
Ashley Kennemer
As time passed and their bodies matured their views became more realistic.
Excel, Inc. wouldn’t let them go without a fight. They would spend all their resources to track the two of them down. They were the best units in the field, and with powers like theirs, Excel would not hesitate to do everything they could to bring them back. They would never be free unless they fought for it, but even then it would be unlikely. They had seen the failed uprisings of the other units. Excel, Inc. was merciless in the face of rebellion, and there were quite a few units that had been erased from history entirely after meeting their brutal ends. Stronger units had tried and died. It was useless to even fantasize about the idea of escape. In the end they would serve the company until they were no longer useful, and then they would be sold to the highest bidder. Or worse, deactivated if they were found undesirable or damaged in any way. No, they had to hold onto their hope. Without hope what else do you ever truly own? The words would be ingrained in his head, having heard them so many times from Virus. The units who had failed were not them. If anyone could escape to freedom, it was the two of them.
And so it came to be that at sixteen, Zachariah found himself preparing to make
a break for it. They took as much as they could steal from the company, stuffed stolen backpacks to the brim before they deemed it enough. Using Zach’s power over electricity
“Deep in the Valley” • by Makensey Hogue - LCHS -
•
Honorable Mention Artwork
- 36 -
To Be Free
• Third Place Fiction •
Ashley Kennemer
in technology and Virus’ control over the neural circuits in the nervous system, they made their great escape. Using their complementary skill pools, there was no way they could get this wrong.
There were neither sirens nor
emergency alarms that night. They didn’t have to pick any locks or steal keys from unsuspecting guards. Virus would surprise the guards on duty, knocking them unconscious while Zach handled the camera feed and the doors. Their disappearance wouldn’t even be noticed until the first light of dawn washed the land in color.
It was too easy really, and no one
could deny that Excel, Inc. had it coming. They weren’t too bright in letting kids
“Flowing into Fall” • by Georgia Dabbs - LCHS •
like them live, knowing their powers were as dangerous as theirs. Maria Excel had always thought she could keep
Honorable Mention
her favorite lab rats under her control,
Photography
thinking they were inferior. Assuming she knew what they could do would
ultimately lead to her downfall. They had kept the full extent of their powers hidden, and in doing so landed themselves a chance at freedom.
They would spend the next few months on the run, hiding and stealing just to
get by. They had tasted freedom, and it was then they knew what they had to do. They would take down Excel, Inc. and free the others. Their life quickly became more like a movie with each passing day, but they didn’t mind. They wanted to put their past
- 37 -
To Be Free
• Third Place Fiction •
Ashley Kennemer
to rest, and to do that they would have to get their revenge and ensure it could never happen again.
They would set up a network of contacts, forging their careers as expert
information brokers and creating a constant stream of information to use at their disposal. They would meet a lovely girl by the name of Chelle, whom they would soon come to live with as renters. Before they knew it they had accumulated a group of rag-tag misfits, many escaped Akeli units just like them. They were a team capable of putting an end to the horrors of Maria Excel’s reign, but they were more than that. They were a family.
The kids who had never known the warmth of the sun, who only operated
under the coldness of the moon, had finally tasted what life was like on the other side. They had felt the warmth of having friends and a family who would always be there. They were born to fight, and they would fight to the end. But now they would fight to ensure their family would never be taken from them. They would fight so that others would have the same chance as they. They would fight for the ultimate uprising. A last farewell to Excel, Inc. and its cruel mistress Maria Excel. A fitting story for a pair of brothers like themselves, and one they could finally choose for themselves.
- 38 -
Third Place • Non-Fiction
My First True Love • by Georgia Dabbs• LCHS
My first true love is named
Jesus Christ. He is very loving and caring. He is a gentleman that takes me as I am. He forgives me for everything I have done and understands everything I have been through and ever will be through. My Savior has love that conquers all things. He takes me as I am, and forgives me and understands me.
God
loves
me.
He
cares
about everything I care about. His love endures forever. There’s a song that
“Beauty of Words”
goes “For all that I am I place into your
• by Ayla Cole - Lexington •
loving hands and I am Yours,” and that
Photography
someday, I want him to strive to be like
describes His love for us. For all that I am all of my mistakes, He still loves me. He calls me His. I am a child of God.
Honorable Mention
When I look for a husband
Jesus. There is a story where there are children coming to Him, but the disciples try to get them to leave. He says, “Stop. Let my children come.” He waits for me at the door, but He will not make me come. I do not want a guy who will barge right in and take me away, but my Savior is patient and a gentleman. When I open the door for Him to come in, He embraces me. He takes me for who I am. He is gentle and takes me as I am, and I place all that I am into His loving hands for I am His.
I am not perfect. I have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. Nobody
- 39 -
My First True Love
• Third Place Non-Fiction •
Georgia Dabbs
is perfect, except Him. He lived on this earth filled with temptation, knowing that He would die for me and my sins. He understands every temptation I go through because He went through it, too, but He went without giving in to it. His love ran red and washed me as white as snow. He broke my chains and set me free. My God, my Savior, died for me. There’s a song that goes “My chains are gone I’ve been set free my God my Savior died for me,” and that’s exactly what He did for me. There’s another song that goes “There’s power in the name of Jesus to break every chain.” He holds the power and the victory. He died for me and my sins so I may be forgiven!
My first true love saved my life and gave me victory. Satan has no hold on me.
My Savior gave me love never-ceasing. He takes me as I am and is the role model to being a gentleman. He died for me and forgives me for all my wrongdoings, even though he had all the same temptation but never gave in. He understands me, and knows everything I will ever do. He still loves, cares, understands, and forgives me.
- 40 -
Honorable Mention • Poetry
Bryce "The Great" Black by Bryce Black - Wilson Hail, fellow classmates! I am Bryce “The Great” the most prime, pristine pupil to fill these desks. Son of the brave Keith, and wise Selena brother to loyal Brett, all blessed with great qualities. Yet even they are no comparison to me. I am my parents' prize possession equipped with every skill known to man, page-flippers and pencil-pushers envy me. I have always been the cream of the crop, and will be till the end of time. Every year, perfectness consumes me I accept all assignments with confidence no task has ever overwhelmed me. My ultimate goal is to leave every classmate in awe of my average like ankle-biters in a candy store. It will not be hard, I have done it for 11 years. I plan to relax and let my skills do the work. Perfect grades are my destiny Just like Derrick Henry and winning the Heisman.
- 41 -
“An Arcane Avian” •
by Allison Lott - ATCTC / Brooks •
Honorable Mention
Artwork
“Eye of Awe” •
by Andrew Smith - ATCTC / Lexington •
Honorable Mention
Artwork
- 42 -
Honorable Mention • Poetry
A Champion's Boast by Lindsay Wilkins - Wilson Greetings all, It is I, Lindsay, champion of all I attempt, Younger, but not weaker, sister of Adam and daughter of Melissa, My kin-strain of Celtic descent. I come to conquer contenders, At the University of Tennessee majorette tryouts, and elsewhere. I shall not settle for a silver-show. Fate allows me long hours in the gym, Making tricks into skills, and skills into routines. This grants me an advantage over those with inborn aptitude. A background in dance and gymnastics, Assists me in fulfilling my destiny. State beam and vault champion, and majorette captain, Accomplisher of the aerial toss, and toss split-leap front walkover, As powerful as Mary Lou Retton, and as graceful as the Swan Queen, It is fated. I will perform to their demand-code and beyond, Frolicking through finger twirls, fearing failure, but far from it, Boldly bounding and braving the burdensome blind-catches, Laying out my future in a two minute routine.
- 43 -
Honorable Mention • Fiction
Goddess • • • by Ashley Kennemer • • • Wilson
Having Dissociative
Identity Disorder made life a bit difficult for Vyride. Growing up with five different people in his head made it a bit of a challenge. They were all so different from each other that it made agreeing on things hard. Every time he handed the controls over to one of his alters, Vyride expected to
“Golden Beauty”
come back and find himself in a
•
jail cell. (It did happen once, he
by Levi Dial - Rogers -
reminisces, since Shadow did seem to have a vendetta against
•
people in power.)
It
was
a
steady
hard
to
hold
relationship
with
Honorable Mention
Photography
anyone. He might like someone as a friend, but two of his alters might hate that person and make it well known. His alters were never the types of people to simply stay quiet in favor of pleasing the original. Sometime in their freshman year they finally came to a conclusion regarding friends: you don’t talk to mine, I’ll do the same. Somehow they each ended up with their own small circle of friends, the rare people that could actually put up with the fact that the person they made friends with wasn’t always going to be there. It was strange, but it was still an improvement.
There were several issues with their system. The list could go on for hours and
hours detailing all the horrible truths and secrets regarding the reality of his life. There was one thing that they could all agree bothered them: their unstable love life. Friendships were hard enough for them to maintain, and they didn’t even have to see
- 44 -
Goddess
• Honorable Mention - Fiction •
Ashley Kennemer
their friends all the time. They didn’t need to live with their friends, but a girlfriend was a very different situation.
It was hard enough to love a single person, but to love five separate people in
a single body was pushing it a bit. To make things harder, they were each looking for something different in a relationship. Most of the relationships they managed to get had failed. It was too much for most people to handle. For the longest time Vyride thought he would be stuck alone for the rest of his life. In fact, he had given up on love until he met her.
Cassida was different from all the other girls he had dated in the past. She loved
him, all of him, and for once all of him loved the same person. They each saw something different in her, but at the same time they each saw the same thing: a goddess.
To Shadow, Cassida was a goddess of strength and mercy. She was strong and
independent, and there was no telling her what to do. She did what she wanted when she wanted, and no one could deny her anything. She was a terrifying and powerful woman. She could have men scared for their lives with just the way she walked, heels clacking against the floor sounding like your impending doom. With a single look she could have anyone cowering in the corner begging for forgiveness.
He had seen how she fought in the middle of a brawl. If she wanted she could
easily kill them, and her creepy older brother could make it look like they never existed to begin with. She could get away with murder if she wanted, and there was something so morbidly fascinating in that idea that Shadow just couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about it. He deserved to die for all his sins, and she could kill him with ease. It was by her mercy that he was still alive to get a chance at redemption. She was his salvation, his reason for becoming a better person. He refuses to sugarcoat things to make them sound better and more polite. If he were to die, he would hope that it be at her hands. It’s morbid, but it’s the way he feels and he isn’t going to deny it.
To Vio she is an intelligent goddess, a goddess of wisdom instead of war. She is
the calm before the storm, ready to take charge with a thought-out plan. He doubts that there is anything she can’t solve. She keeps them from running off and doing the first stupid thing that pops into their heads.
There are very few people the genius can hold a conversation with, and Cassida is
- 45 -
Goddess
• Honorable Mention - Fiction •
Ashley Kennemer
definitely one of them. She keeps up with him so well it’s hard to imagine a life without her. He cannot hide anything from her all-knowing gaze, nor does he consider trying. He tells her all his ideas, every plan inside his brain, every truth he has to tell. He would not dare lie to his beloved goddess.
To Blue she is the goddess of beauty. She is grace and charm, and he knows that
with the right smile she could have anything she wanted. She is beautiful inside and out, and he would not hesitate to say that even Aphrodite could not hold a candle to their Cassida. She is the beauty that remains in the world, a reminder that not everything is as dark and hopeless as he likes to think they are.
She is his reason for fighting so hard to get through the day. Work was always
taxing on them, exhausting both their mental and physical capabilities. Thinking of returning home to Cassida was the only thing that kept them going, and he knew that without her they would have given up a long time ago.
For Red she is more than just a goddess of peace and reason, she is tranquility
itself. Things are not chaotic when she is around. She is the lull in the cacophony of their lives. He doesn’t have to act out and make a scene, screaming at the top of his lungs in a childish tantrum, just for a bit of quiet. He does not have to fight to be heard amongst the noise because she listens. She listens the first time, her full attention on him alone. He does not have to repeat himself; he is free to just ramble. She gives him the attention and peace he craves so much.
There is no self-doubt when she is around. He can think clearly around her. For
once, there is not a single bit of panic in his voice. He is free from the heightened senses he had gotten used to. She knows exactly what he needs to calm down and focus, and she is all the more willing to help him get through it. She is his grounding rock, and without her he knows he would have long since lost it.
To Vyride she is Cassida, the goddess of love and compassion. She is the love of
his life, his lovely wife, and the future mother of his children. She loves him even when he cannot love himself. She does her best to understand, and to Vyride that means everything. She is the only one capable of rendering him truly speechless, and yet it’s only her that he wants to speak to all the time. He understands what the others mean, and he completely agrees. She is the most important thing in his life, and he would wish
- 46 -
Goddess
• Honorable Mention - Fiction •
Ashley Kennemer
for nothing else. He would not even dare to desire more, for he has everything he ever wanted with her.
To each of them she is special, and they all know the truth at hand: Cassida is a
goddess among mortals and immortals alike. She is their goddess and they are her avid worshippers. She is their religion, her word their law. As blasphemous as that is, none of them can argue with the truth. She could do whatever she wished with them, and they would not mind. They are drunk off their love, addicted to her very existence. A world where she does not exist is not a place they want to be. She is their goddess, and they her willing sacrifices. For all they know in the world, there is one thing they can all agree on: Cassida is their everything.
“Foreign Worlds” •
by Allison Lott - ATCTC / Brooks •
Honorable Mention
Artwork - 47 -
Honorable Mention • Poetry
If We Only Knew by Kaliegh Warren - LCHS -
If in the night the butterflies would soar then which of these are we to vigorously adore? The flowers that wilt when darkness takes over? Or the butterflies that scatter like the blossomed, green clovers? If birds were to weep in the dark like morning, then how are we to know which when the sun is dawning? Would we worship the bluebirds with black feathers in the night? And wait for them to take off in the darkness with flight? If the sun were to sit in the same spot as the moon, then how are we to know when the world will end—soon? Would we stare at the two as if they were out of existence? Or wonder more ceaselessly at the invisible beauty far in the distance?
- 48 -
Honorable Mention • Poetry
Under the Stars by Tanner English - Wilson -
The fire dampens as the breeze passes through. Temperature becomes my nemesis As the night cools. The shining sun I miss, While darkness covers the sky full of blue. Isolating oneself, only for few. But with her is where I find my true bliss, Though, I constantly hide from Jack Frost’s kiss. Impatiently I wait for Earth’s new hue. A golden tint stains the top of the trees And brings life to the stiffness of my toes. Though my eyes are blinded, my body feels. Numbness escapes me, and the frost-bite flees. Who would have thought that seasons can be foes? But even in the cold, nature appeals.
- 49-
“Fountain” •
by Trent Williams - LCHS •
Honorable Mention
Photography
“2nd Down” •
by Alexandra Tate - LCHS •
Honorable Mention
Photography
- 50 -
Honorable Mention • Poetry
Heaven's Fate by Madison Jones - LCHS -
Her heart beat in her chest, Clasped lightly were her hands to her breast. Her mind attacked her conscience with doubt, How could she make it through this mind altering drought. Candles hung overhead, sparkling lights of memories past. She recalled how everyone said they'd never last. The table set for lovers meet, A once upon a dream, extraordinary treat. Romantic essence and ecstatic atmosphere, Sending signals of soulmates into the stratosphere. Surprise and wonder, Heaven's fate. Up the stairs her heels were heard, not a moment too late. Dazzling blue looked into midnight grey. A timeless feeling set forward by one, "Okay." Hands intertwined in center of moonlight, Lips like morphine and eyes that shine bright. A knee to the ground and one hand held high, A simple, "yes" is cause for birds to fly. Like moths to a flame their lips collided, Until their happiness died down and subsided. Although the road would be rough and their love tested, They'd always have one another, for they were destined.
- 51 -
Honorable Mention • Poetry
Golden Gate by Branden Bento - LCHS -
Why does the sun seem to gleam through the towers and over the
beautifully calm and repressed water?
Intricate columns rising out of the crystal reflective water below, like
a billowing cloud of smoke.
Magnificent and beautiful.
Echoing sounds of thousands crossing the structure with a great roar.
The sun enlightens the spirit as the water glistens below.
Senses heighten.
Reflections of the sky rain down unto the ocean from up above, as I
yearn to cross once more like an overhead seagull.
“Into the Depths” •
by Gabrielle Tate - LCHS •
Honorable Mention
Artwork
- 52 -
Honorable Mention • Poetry
World on Fire by Tristan Carson - Wilson -
The world is on fire, it seems ne’r-ending. All the animals are gone, without fight. The woods are burnt and the seas are glowing. Homes destroyed, cities fled, no one in sight.
They did it, I know, why didn’t they stop. Those nasty men, were all about power. They lied and cheated their way to the top, Then broke the top, began the darkest hour
I’m alone, always alone, no one near. Toys left by children, soaking in the rain. Decay, left by all except I, oh dear. Desires discarded, no hopes remain.
What is that strange noise, I will chase after. Wait can it be, distant sounds of laughter?
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Honorable Mention • Poetry
Loss of a Parent by Adrianna King - LCHS -
When I heard the news, I hit my knees. My body quivered and shook as the tears poured out of my still innocent eyes. The weight of the world was on my shoulders crushing all faith I had in any good in the world. You would never meet your grandchildren nor praise my accomplishments as you always had. Your lipstick would never again stain my then, still chubby cheeks. Your life was cut short, My heart was cut in half. My love for you will never lessen but the hate in my heart will. As the seasons pass and the sound of your voice is no longer as loud in my skull, the dark clouds slowly leave my head. I’ll always love you. Rest in Peace, Momma.
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“Typographic Lotus” •
by Emily Franklin - ATCTC / Brooks • Honorable Mention
Artwork
“A Grandmother Tree” •
by Erica Williams - LCHS • Honorable Mention
Artwork
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“The Flaming Star” •
by Erika Grisham - LCHS •
Honorable Mention
Photography
“Jolly Rancher Moon” • by
Sam Thigpen - ATCTC / Brooks •
Honorable Mention
Photography
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Honorable Mention • Poetry
Waiting for December by Katie Austin - Wilson -
As days start turning short, the green will fade; slowly, slowly, mimicking the weather, spirits change. Ringing in the holidays. Closer the Yuletide season, the better.
Mugs of hot cocoa and Christmas sweaters. Dark green pines adorned with twinkling lights. Cheerful people dressed in wool and leather, outside in their yards having snowball fights.
But the best of all the Christmas delight, is the feeling of oneness we all share. How we all seem to get along despite Our past. Just for one day, we show we care.
It is times like this we appreciate,
The things about Christmas that make it great.
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Every artist dips his brush in his soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures. - Henry Ward Beecher -
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