Wordplay 2023

Wordplay

The Congressional School Literary Magazine

Spring 2023

Editors-in-Chief

CaeliBoris

ElishaPickle

CharlotteReynolds

MaddieRumness

Faculty Advisor

HollyKeimig

Associate Editors

SanjeevBelleTrichur,AshleyBicksel,JazzBuitrago,M.E.Call,Stella Colic,SammyElbazouni,OliviaGreene,JacksonGriest,Brooks Gustafson,GabeHanson,ChaseHarris,OwenHermans,FinnHoward, AndrewKetcham,OwenLevine,LandonOhle,KarmenSnead,Nolan

Vance

Front Cover By CaeliBoris

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LetterfromtheEditors..................................................................................

"ItAllStartsWithaPencil"byAshleyBicksel............................................

"TheFearsWeHold"byAnonymous..........................................................

Firelight by Maddie Rumness...................................................................

"MessageinaBottle"byJazzBuitrago.........................................................

"Orange"byKarmenSnead,,,,,,,....................................................................

"TheNeverEndingHeat"byOwenLevine................................................

Spring Starts by Caeli Boris.......................................................................

"Spring"byAndrewKetcham.......................................................................

"ThePowerofNoise"byLeahKinder.........................................................

Zentangle by Caeli Boris.........................................................................

A Rainy Day by Zaina Gilbert..................................................................

"Okay"byAnonymous.................................................................................

"WhatHappenstoaDreamDeferred?"byZainaGilbert...........................

"WhatHappenstoaDreamAchieved?"byKyleWalkes............................

"War"byJamesBagnall.................................................................................

Spain by Charlotte Reynolds......................................................................

"OdetoWater"byStellaColic....................................................................

"OnlyI"byLeahKinder...............................................................................

"Countdown"byLeahDober......................................................................

"Harmony"byAnnaDober..........................................................................

by

"LunarLanding"byKarmenSnead..............................................................

"Possibilities"byKyleWalkes........................................................................

"Weightless"byBrooksGustafson................................................................

"ShadowsoftheLight"byGretaPloetz........................................................

"Untitled"byKaitlynHooper.......................................................................

"WhoCares?"byAnonymous.......................................................................

LETTER FROM

the editors

Thankyouforreadingthe2023editionof Wordplay!

Thismagazinemeanssomuchtous.Itmeanssomuchtothe studentswhocreatedthepiecesandwantedtosharethem.It meanssomuchtothestudentswhoeditedtheworkand designedthepages.

Wewanttothankourwonderfulfacultyadvisor,Mrs. Keimig,whoguidedusthroughthisprocess.Wealsowanted tothankMr.SingKeyandMr.Avisfortheirencouragement ofstudents'creativity.

We,theeditors-in-chief,arehappytohaveleftourmarkon CongressionalSchool.WehopethattheCongressional communitywillenjoythismagazineforyearstocome.

ThismagazineshowcaseswhatthestudentsatCongressional cando.Pleaseenjoytheamazingworkofthesetalented writers,artists,editors,anddesigners.

Spring 2023 Editors-In-Chief

-Caeli, Elisha, Charlotte, & Maddie

It All Starts With a Pencil

Ashley Bicksel

Endlesspossibilities.

Whattowrite?

Hope, sadness, terror? Ipickup whatwilllead tothebeginning.

Myhand clingstothewood

coveredinamustardhue. Lead, scrapesthroughthepaper, creatingswirls, andstoriesofdifferentworlds.

Thisisjustthebeginning. Letters morphintowords.

Thosewords becomeastory. Somanychoices. Whatnext?

Youstartwiththeintro, thentheclimax, alltheway tothefallingaction. Finallytheconclusion. Butthatisnottheend, keepwriting, keepdreaming, andneverstoplearning.

Allstories mustbeginsomewhere.

Itallstarts withapencil.

The Fears We Hold Anonymous

Whatwillhappenandwhen?

Willthisday, Betheday, Whenitallends?

Doestherelationship-Breaktoday?

Doesitallcrumble, Fumble, Stumble, Tilltheverylastday?

Willwejustbewatching, Falling, Crying, Tilltheverylastday?

Tillthedayitwillhappenandwhen-Tillthedayitallends--

Tillthedaythatitallwillfold-Itwillsurvive, Thefearswehold.

FIRELIGHT

Maddie Rumness

I aspire

To inspire

I write

To make right

To make right the changes

Come upon us

Come upon

Our shallow Little world

Message In a Bottle (At The Bottom Of the Sea)

But Whorls of light

And life destroyed

Destroyed in the rampage Of humanity

Jazz Buitrago

But We have built, Thus broken

Tugged turmoil

From the treacherous depths of the Earth

We have twisted And turned

Pushed Shoved

And in turn Killed But

The future is uncertain

But one thing is certain

We will push Away the past

When will we notice Notice at last? But We peeked and prodded

Wanting more

We’ve never known

What was in store

But there’s one height

We dare not go Yes

There’s one place we can’t follow Peeked but never peaked But I search

To unearth

The hope Of humanity

The table-turner

Path-maker

Granter of an unmade wish

The fixer

You From The Finder

Orange

Karmen Snead

Uniquelike

Afreshcoatofpaint

Vibrantlike Alionsmane Asphaltona Sizzlingsummerday

Oranegg cookingonasidewalk

Itfeelslike treebarkor Prisonbarswith Rustflakingontheedge

Itwouldtastelike

Awinterwind

Andthedecayof Fallleaves

Itwouldtaste ofdrinkingcoldwater withasorethroator warmhotchocolate

Withsteam

Thatticklesyournose

It'slike Sunbakedsand

Itsoundslike

Atribalsong

Weavinginbetween

Thewispsofawillowtree

Ortheboomoranairplane

Takingoff

Soaringeverhigherintothe orange sunset

The Never Ending Heat Owen

Levine

Whatcanwedointhisnever-endingheat? Thisproblemisnotdifficulttodefeat. Wecannotsitonthebackseat, andwecannotcheat.

Ifwedon’tfacethisproblemfast itwillbethelast. Solet'scast newrulestoprotectourearth. Let'shelpreturnittoitsbirth. Howarealloftheseproblems inoursociety notgivingusanxiety?

Climatechangeisterrible, nothingthishorrible iscomparable.

It’smakingtheplanethotter. Soonwewillneverseesnow. Wecan’tletthisproblemgo, orourwaterlevelwilloverflow.

It’slikewe'rethrowingicecreamatthesun. Theicecreamwillbedestroyed, andthat'snofun.

Theearthwillsoononlyhavesummer, andthisismorethanjustabummer. It’sacatastrophe, andifweavoidit, itwillbetheendofyouandme.

Spring Starts

Caeli Boris

Spring Andrew Ketcham

ThewayIspellspringisdifferentfromothers. Whileothersseeaseason,awordtobetossedaround, Iseeamillionstories,memories, andpeoplewhohavefutures, brightfuturesliketheafternoononaspringday.

Assureasthesunrises, springoriginates andbringswithitsomanyactivitieslikeEaster Thebestpartofthisworldthatrotates movescreatingmorediversity it'snotjustspring, it'swinter, Itssummer, alltheseasons witheachonecomessomethingspecialeveryyear SoIleaveyounotwithananswer, butaquestion,whynot?

Whynotapoemforeverymonth, everyholiday, whynoteverysingledayoftheyear Everyoneofthemisdifferent,special,andbrings neworiginalideas,wantsandfeelings Eachhasitsspecialbaggage,itswondersandthejoysitbrings. Onatriparoundthisamazingworld Icouldwriteaboutthemall;whynotthemall?

The Power of Noise

Leah Kinder

Asinglevoice canmakeanoise.

Thatspreadschoice andthreadsofhope.

Itcanbrightenthedarkestdays orwashthedecay.

Itcanevenmakesomeone'sday.

Caeli Boris

A Rainy Day

Zaina Gilbert

Okay Anonymous

Okay

I’m done

I’ve given up The finish line has been crossed

I’m okay with that

The glass has been shattered, Into pieces

Once there was a time where I could rebuild it When they were still big pieces Now shattered pieces, Unmendable, Unfixable, Hopeless pieces of glass

I’m okay with that

I thought that I had a chance I thought that maybe things could work out I thought that incorrectly

I’m okay with that

I didn’t have a chance

I didn’t ever think about making a move I didn’t tell you

I’m okay with that

Now, Somebody else makes you happy

Now, Somebody else makes you laugh

Now, Somebody else makes you feel comforted

Now, Somebody else is with you

I’m okay with that

Happens to a Dream Defer

Zaina Gilbert

InspiredbyLangstonHughes'spoem,"Harlem"

Whathappenstoadreamdeferred?

Woulditdisappearlikeaflowerintheflames?

Woulditcreateascarthatneverwithdrew?

Orwoulditstickinyourmindlikebreadand honey?

Orwoulditcreateadisasterinyourmind.

Woulditsailtothedestination?

Orwoulditsailintothewind.

Woulditponderintotheabyss?

Woulditsplashintothewater, Sinkingintotheendless, Darksea.

Woulditwalktotheotherside, Andnevercomeback?

Orwoulditstopchasingforthethingsthey want?

Orwouldtheylookuptothedimstarsthat neverfade.

DREAM ACHIEVED?

Kyle Walkes

What happens to a InspiredbyLangstonHughes'spoem,"Harlem"

Ifmydreamswereachieved, Iwouldfeellikeahawk, soaringtheskies knowingthatallthehardwork couldfinallystop.

Whenmydreamisfulfilled, I’dfeellikethepeopleIadmire, likeanundyingspark burningforever evenwhenthesparkgoesout. Achievingmydreams wouldbelikegoldenflowers, relaxinginanever-endingnap.

War

James Bagnall

Warisabadthing;itisnotfun

Whendowninthosetrenchesyoudon’tseethesun

Youwanttoseeitsobeautifullybright

Mostofthesoldiersseethelight

Warisdarkanddamp

Onlyonesidecomesoutasthechamp

Theotherside’smangled

Damagedsodeeptheirculturedismantled

Weareviolent,cruel,andjerks

Uskillingothersmakemeberserk

Don’tgetmestartedonHitler

Hewasakiller

Wehaveinventorsthatcreatetokill Inmyopiniontheyarepigswill

Theymakemachineslikethetankbuilttowithstand Anythingamancancommand

“TheDesertFox”to“OldBloodandGuts”haveallordereddeath Insomewayoranothersomewherealongtheirwarpath

Theytrynottothinkabouttheirguilt

Ruiningthatpersontheirparentshadbuilt

Nowyouseethatwarisbad

Terrible,horrible,itmakesmesad

Killingforreasonstheysaythey“Can’tResolve”

Astheworld'sbondsdissolve

Nowthatyou’veseenthelight

Youcanmakethosesoldiersnothavetofight

Iftheworldwouldstopkilling

Charlotte Reynolds

Youareasclear ascrystal, astransparent asair. Youareaffected byevery single touch. Youcreate waveswithemotion thatripple forever.

Whenyoucry, yourtearsfall withthestrength ofyouremotion. You’renomoreperfect thananythingelse. Youcry withyourheart andmakeothers crytoo. Youcare aboutpeople.

Ode to Water

Stella Colic

Asyoumatch yourforce withthefeelings ofthepeople, youwhispertoeveryone theburdens peoplecarry. Theproblems thatpeopleworryabout. Thetimes peoplearescared. Thethings thatneedtobefixed.

Youdrawattention tothecareless mistakes.

Youremindus thatwe arenotperfect either.

Itisalwaysyou, water, rain, ice, nomattertheformyouarein.

Only I

Leah Kinder

Only I can be the change to enlighten the flame to wash after the past waves Many other have tried but only I can change my life

The build to strive pushes me down but I stand against because only I can be the fight Losses only bloom my life even if they can’t stand right The past mistakes only sag my weight but I keep standing because only I can be the change

Countdown

Leah Dober

ItwasalmosttheendofDecember,andAudreywasbeginningtofeelfrightened.It’snot justher.Youcanfeelthefearrollingthroughthedry,bonechillingair.ThestreetsofNew YorkCityaredeadsilent,butthepeoplearen’tdead.Atleastnotyet.Asshestepsoutofher unit,hereyesslamshut.Theblindingwhiteburnsintoherhead.Sheblinksafewtimes, becomingaccustomedtothebrightsunlight,reflectedofftheperfectlywhiteunblemished streets.Shetakesadeepbreath,andlooksdownthestreet.Sheseestheregularresidence buildings,reachingtothesky,andsheseestheseaofpeoplemovingafewfeetinfrontofher. Shejoinsthecrowd,andissweptaway.

AsAudreypassesCunninghamSquare,allthatisdisplayedisTheCountdown.Beating intothebackofhermind.Areminder.Tick,tick,tick.7days,14hours,40minutes,and30 seconds.Shetakesastep29seconds,another,28.Thesteadyclicksechothroughthewhite, snow-blanketedstreets.Toher,herheartbeatseemstobeatevenlouder.

Everyoneactsasifnothingiswrong,butyoucanfeeltheuneasecoursingthroughthe Square.EverydaywhenshepassesthroughCunninghamSquarethesamememoriesfloodinto hermind.ThecolorfuladslightingupTimesSquarealldayandallnightlong.Thejoyand freedomsoaringthroughtheair.Shehastopushawaythelonging,growingstrongereveryday. Longingforfreedomandjoyreplacingfear.Blindingcommercialsreplacingthegrim Countdown.Now,eventhedullannouncementsandpropagandausuallydisplayedonthe screensseemappealing.ButTheCountdownhasfilledthescreenssincethefirstofNovember, anditwillonlyvanishwhenTheCountdownstrikeszero,atmidnightonNewYearsEve.And whatreplacesitwillbehundredsoftimesworse.

“Goodmorning,Sam.”Audreyapproachesamiddleagedman,dressedintheusualwhite robesofamerchant.Hishairishazel,andhiseyesarepaleblue.

“Goodmorning!”Hewavesasshewalksovertohisstall.HehandsAudreyherweekly rations,andsmilessympathetically.Audreyforcesasmile.

“Thankyou.”Audreyreplies,butshedoesn’tmeanit.Foodisneverplentifulorglorious inthelowercities.Softbutteredbread,sweetapples,andmouthwateringcakesonlyexistinher dreams.Insteadsheleaveswithbeans,hardenedbread,peanutbutter,andbruisedbananas.The Administrationcarefullyrestrictsfoodrations,aswellastimespentoutsideofworkandhouses. DuringthefirstfewyearsaftertheAdministrationtookover,theyneededsoldierstomonitor andcontrolthepeople.Nowtheyaccomplishthiswithsecuritycamerasandthreats.

JustafewweeksagotherewasawomannamedLilywhoskippedadayofworkand snuckintotheforestwithherboyfriend.Lilythoughtshehadgottenawaywithit,untilshe wokeuponemorningwithasecuritycamerapictureofherandherboyfriendintheforest. Nexttoitwasasimplemessage:“Wearealwayswatching.”Lilyshouldhaveheededthe warning,butinsteadshetriedsneakingoutadifferentway.ThenextmorningLilywaspulled awakebyasilentsoldierdressedinallblack.

Audreydidnotknowthisstory,butsheheardapiercingscreamthatmorning,and nobodyeversawLilyagain.Audreyandtherestofhercommunityalwaysfollowtherulesand stayinline,howevermostpeoplesilentlyhatedtheAdministration.Thisservedasaharsh reminder.

AfterAudreydroppedoffherday'srationsatherunitshedraggedherselftothefactory justintimeforwork.Sheabsolutelydespisesherjob.Inallofthelowercitiesthecitizensare forcedtoworkfortheAdministration,andevenafterspendinghoursatthefactoryeveryday Audreystillwantstocoverherearsandblockoutthedeafeningclamor.Thesoundofhundreds ofmetalmachinesgrindingandclangingechoesthroughthehumid,smelly,darkand

enormous,concretebuilding.AsAudreywalksovertoherloomshegritsherteethtogetherin disgust.Blackthreadispiledhighonthetables.Todayatthefactoryalloftheworkersarebeing requiredtomanufactureuniformsforthesoldiers;theverypeoplethatthreatenanddisrespectall ofthepeopleinthelowercities.Sheknowstherulesthough.Audreyswallowsheranger,and getstowork.

Bythetimesheisfinallyabletogohome,thestreetsareonlyilluminatedbylights,her armsaresoreandaching,andsheisexhausted.However,thosefeelingsarereplacedwitha racingheart,sweatypalms,andasickeningfeelinginAudrey’sgutwhenshewalksthrough CunninghamSquare.7days,2hours,10minutes,and24seconds.Lessthanaweek!Shethinks toherself,asherstomachdrops.Audreyclimbsupthemanyflightsofstairs,andheatsupher beans.Herstomachisnotsoothedbythefood.Shequicklyrinsesherselfoff,climbsintobed, andfallsasleep.

Aftersevenmoreidenticaldays,AudreyisonceagainwalkingpastCunninghamSquare whensheglancesup.Audreysheartseemstostopasshereadsthenumbersonthescreen:0days, 14hours,40minutes,and30seconds.Sheisonlyabletoprocessonefeeling;dread.Underneath

TheCountdownreadsasimplemessage:“AllcitizensaretoreporttoCunninghamSquareat 2300todayforamandatoryassembly.Afteryourtriptothemarket,youaretoimmediately returntoyourunitsuntilthistime.Allcitizensareexcusedfromwork.”

13hourslaterAudreyleavesherunitandarrivesatCunninghamSquare.Herheartis jumpingoutofherchest,andAudreyfeelsasifsheisgoingtothrowup.Officialsandsoldiers havetransformedtheSquare.Hundredsofchairsfillthestreets,butthebiggestdifferenceisthe soldiers.NewYear'sEveeverytenyearsistheonlytimetheAdministrationneedssoldiersto controlthecrowd,andtheonlytimeallofNewYorkCityisinoneplace.

Twenty-oneyearsago,evenmorepeoplefilledthestreetsforNewYearsEvetocelebrate astheclockhitzeroandtheballdropped.Nowitisn’tacelebration.

TheCountdowntofreezeat1seconds.Now,onceeverytenyears,inonecityintheUnited States,adifferenttypeofballdrops.Aballasbigasthetallestskyscrapers,aballthathaunts people'snightmares.Adeadlyone.

ExactlytwentyyearsagoonethisverydayamannamedMarkCunninghamtookthe stagewithhundredsofsupportersandsoldiersalongsidehim.HewasthePresidentofthe UnitedStates.However,theresultsfromtherecentelectionshadcomein,andinamonththat wouldnotbethecase.Thereweremainlytwentycitiesthathadvotedfortheothercandidates: WashingtonD.C,NewYorkCity,Chicago,Nashville,Boston,Austin,Baltimore,Atlanta, KansasCity,Miami,Orlando,LosAngeles,Buffalo,Pittsburg,Columbus,LittleRock,SaltLake City,Salem,LasVegas,andHartford.Whenthesecitiesheardthenews,theylaunched incrediblecelebrations.However,theircelebrationswerecutshortwhenMarkCunningham tookthestageonthatday;twentyyearsago.

“Goodmorning.”Heboomedasthecrowdwentsilent.“Asyouareprobablyaware,the resultsfromtherecentelectionsindicatethatJoeSmithwillbethenextPresidentoftheUnited StatesofAmerica.HoweverIhavesomesadnewstosharewithyou.YesterdayafternoonMr. SmithandhisVicePresidenrweremysterioslymurdered.”MarkCunninghamtriedtohidehis smirk,buteveryoneknewthatthisdeathwasnocoincidence.“Wearedoingeverythinginour powertofindtheculpritandbringthemtojustice.WithregardstothePresident,Iwillremain inoffice.”MarkCunninghamleftthestage.

Theverynextdayeveryoneinthe20citiesfoundapacketintheirmailbox,andsoldiers linedthestreets.Itincludedadailyschedule,directionsregardingrations,jobassignments, informationaboutthenewAdministration,andamessage:“Everytenyearsyouwillgatherin CunninghamSquare(formerlyTimesSquare)toreceivepunishmentforchoosinganother candidateoverme.Donotdisobeytheseinstructions.Oursoldierswillnothesitate.”

Sohereeveryoneis,atthesecondpunishment.Althoughthefirsthappenedtenyears ago,itisstillfreshinAudreysmind.TheterrorineveryoneseyesasCunninghamreachedinto thebox,thereliefwhenthepeopleofNewYorkCitysawWashingtonD.C.picked,theshock whentheylearnedwhatwasabouttohappen,andthehelplessnessandweaknessasWashington D.C.andallofitscitizenswerecompletelydestroyed.Thistime,thepeoplewereevenmore terrified.Nowtherewereonlynineteencitiesbeingpickedfrom,nottwenty.Nowtheyknew thefateofthecityMarkCunninghamdrewoutofthebox.

Everyonehasfiledintotheirseatsbythetime20minutesareallthatremainsonthe clock.AllofasuddenTheCountdownmovestothebottomleftcornerofthescreen,andMark Cunningham'sfacetakesoverthescreen.

“Goodeveningladiesandgentlemen!”Hecalls.Needlesstosay,thereisnotany applause.“TodaywegathertoremindthelowercitiesofthedaytheychoseSmithoverme.We gathertopunishthemfortheirdisobedience.”Heasserts.

Theclockisattensecondswhenhereachesintothebox.Nineseconds,hepullsaslip cleanlyfromthebox,andholdsithighintheair.Eightseconds,theentirecountryisholding theirbreath.Sevenseconds,allofthesoldiersinallofthelowercitiesmarchout,andsealthe exitsbehindthem.Sixsecondslater,thestreetsarepitch-black,andthestreetlightsareshutoff. Fiveseconds,thecamerazoomsinonthesmallwhitepaper.Fourseconds,Audreysmindis racing.Itisimpossibletocomprehendhowmuchweighsinthatsmallslipofpaper.3seconds, theSquareisdeadsilent,andhundredsofpeopleareabouttodie.2seconds,inonemovement MarkCunninghamunfoldsthepaper.1second,everyoneseyesturnupasMarkCunningham openshismouthandthecamerafocusesonthreedeadly,dreadfulwords.“NewYorkCity”The Countdownstrikes0,everyoneintheSquare'seyeswideninfearbeyondcomprehension. Immediatelyanenormousstreakoffirelightsuptheentirecity.And,forthefirsttimeintwenty yearsandthelasttimeever,theballdropsonNewYorkCity.

Harmony

Anna Dober

March 19, 2035

ThesmalltownofHarmony,NewHampshireisthemostperfectoneintheworld.In thisutopianplace,everyhouseisamansion,everycarisalimousine,andeveryone’slifeis carefreeandperfect.Crime,poverty,inequality,andbullyingarealltheunfortunateproblemsof otherplaces.NoneofHarmony’scitizenseverlie.Theyneverdisobeyinstructions.Theynever teaseorplaypranks.Afterall,asocietywithdishonest,disobedient,trouble-makingcitizensisn’t anythingtobeproudof.

EsterWarrencouldn’tcareless.Shedoesn’tcareaboutjeopardizingeverything Harmonystandsfor.Shehatesherhometown.Toher,it’saboringprisonthatshe’sitchingto leavebehind.NooneeverleavesHarmony,butEsterismorethanhappytobethefirst.Thisis whyshe’sliedseveraltimesinthepasthour,inordertobreakarule.Abigone. Inthemiddleoftownisanimposing-lookingbuildingwithagiantKEEP-OUTSignoutside. Severalkidshavetriedtoenterit,buttheyalwaysendupinthelocalclinicwithbrokenlimbs. Everysingleoneofthosekidshasbackedupthestorytoldbyalltheadultsinharmony.Thatit’s anofficebuilding.Esterdoesn’tbuythatthought.Somethingtellsherthatinthatbuildingliesa veryimportantmachine.Ifsomethinghappenstothatmachine,masschaoswillresult.Asecret willbeexposed.

SamanthaLacyisinherroomworkingonheressayforHarmonyValuesclass.She’s beenaskedtowritetwopagesonhowdishonestycausesproblemsintheoutsideworld.The sheethassomesuggestedhistoricaleventstoresearch.Oneonthelistcatcheshereye:Pearl Harbor.Shetypesitintothesearchbarandclicksonanarticle.

Itreads:“In1941,abusinessmannamedMiltonCraneclaimedthataharborinHawaii containedPearls.Hopingtostrikeitrich,manypeopleboardedshipstoHawaiitoseektheir fortune.Nopearlswereeverfound,and5monthslaterCraneadmittedhelied.Theresulting frustrationleadtothemurderofCranebyariot,inwhich4protestersdied.”

Suddenly,thatwasn’twhatthewebpagesaid.

“PearlHarborwasaUnitedStatesNavybaseinHawaii.In1941,itwasattackedbythe JapaneseAirForce,leadingtothedeathof2,400people.Thenextday,theUnitedStates declaredwaronJapan,andenteredWWII.”

Samanthablinked.Thenblinkedagain.What?Whywasthereadifferentwebpage now?Andwhichonewasright?Shepressestherefreshbutton.Nothing.Thensherestartsthe computer.Thewebpagestillreadsthesamething.Whatishappening?

Threeblocksaway,Esterwatchesthroughadronecameraasablackmachinetipsover andclatterstothefloor.

March 20, 2035

Therumoristhattheinternetproblemsarearesultofaprank.Everyoneknowsthere’s onlyonekidinHarmonywhowouldeverdaretoplayaprank.

Theschooldaygoesbyinablur.Samanthapaysattentioninallherclasses,butnoneof theinformationmeansanything.ThelessoninLifeintheOutsideWorldaboutpovertyis disturbingandshockingtoherclassmates,buttheinformationthatsomepeoplehavetothink carefullybeforebuyingsomethingbecausetheydon’thaveasmuchmoneyastheywantgoes intooneofSamantha'searsandrightouttheother.Forthefirsttimeinherlife,Samanthastares attheclocksinherclassrooms,countingdownthehours,minutes,andevensecondsuntilshe canconfrontEsteratdismissal.

Late at night, March 20, 2035

Ester had a drone. It was perfectly allowed. Nearly every kid in Harmony had one. Hers had required some modifications. There was a chip in the drone. A tracking chip that stopped it from going anywhere it wasn’t allowed. Removing it had been scary, for the chip was designed to explode if anything happened to it, which would hopefully destroy the device in question. The drone was able to crash through the window without much problem. An alarm went off, but all the systems were designed to stop humans. Everyone figured the technology in all the remote-controlled devices would never malfunction.

Instinct led her to turn right out of the room the drone crashed into. Then left and the next fork in the hallway. Then into the 3rd room on the right side of the corridor her drone was now in. There was a machine, and again, instinct told her it was important.

She had flown in there to look around, but the drone had other ideas. It ignored her commands and collided with the machine. She hadn’t wanted that to happen. The pieces of the drone would be found. They would be linked to her.

She would be lucky to have her life after the authorities were done with her. Instinct told Ester that too.

Samanthasnapsawake.Shetakesadeepbreath.Inhale,exhale.Itwasjustadream,she tellsherself.Itwasjustadream.

Somethingtellsheritwasn’tjustadreamthough.Instinct,likeEsterhadfelt.Something tellsheritwascompletelyreal.Ithadhappened.Itwasamessage.

SamanthabarelyknowsEster,butshehasbeenraisedtobelievethatnoharmshould evercometoanyone,foranyreason.Nooneshouldeverhavetheirlifeindanger.Samanthais certainofonething.HarmmightcometoEster,andherlifeisindanger.

Samanthastepsoutofbed.Sheputsonablackhoodieandblackleggings.Shetiesthe darkest-coloredsneakerssheownsontoherfeet,andtip-toesoutthedoor.

Very early, March 21, 2035

Harmonyiscompletelysilent.Birdsaren’tsinging,andcricketsaren’tchirping.Asingle snowflakehittingthegroundwouldstartleSamantha,andcausehertojump,andquicklylook overhershoulderforthemillionthtimeinher3-blockwalk.Andforthemillionthtime,allshe wouldseewouldbestillnightair.

Uponarriving,ittakesSamanthaacoupleofminutestotakeinthesightofthebuilding.

Itismagnificent,andimposing,thatisforsure,andlooksasifsomeonespentanawfullotof moneyonit.Ithasanunblemishedblackpaintcoating,withblacked-outwindowsplacedat constantintervals,givingthewholethingapolishedlook.

Itdoesn’ttakelongforSamanthatofindthewindowEsterhadcrashedherdroneinto. WhenSamanthalookscloser,sheseesitisunguarded.Canitreallybethiseasy?Samanthaslips intothewindowwithasurprisingamountofgrace.Estermentionedalarms,butSamanthaisn’t surprisedwhentheydon’tgooff.Theinternetproblemsmusthaveaffectedthemtoo.

Samantharememberstheinstructionsinthedream.Sheturnsrightoutoftheroom, thenleftwhenshecomesuponaforkinthehallways.Onceinthatcorridor,Samanthaslipsinto thethirdroomontherightsideofthecorridor.Lyingonthefloor,ispieces.Someareplastic, somearemetal,someareblack,somearesilver,andsomearewhite.Shegetsonherhandsand knees,andpicksuponeofthepiecesonthefloor.It’snotapiecethough.It’sabox.She swallowsnervously,andopensit.

Thenthere’sasound.Andasinistervoice:

“Turnaroundwithyourhandsintheair.”

Samanthaturnsherheadtoseeatallfigure,cladinblack,withagunpointingather. Thentheworldgoesblack.

WhenSamanthawakesup,she’sblindfolded,andcanfeelherhandstiedbehindher back.

“Howniceofyoutojoinus.”

Samanthajoltsupright.It’sthesamevoicefromthatdayintheimposinglooking building.Samanthahasnoideahowlongagothatdaywas.Itcouldhavebeenhours,itcould havebeenweeks.

“Beforeyoustartaskingquestions,yourfriendEsterisinasimilarroomastheoneyou areinnow.Youweresokindtoleadustoher.”

WhenEsterwakesup,she’sblindfolded,andcanfeelherhandstiedbehindherback.

“Howniceofyoutojoinus.”

Theblindfoldissuddenlyremoved.Estercanseeatall,cruellookingwomanwith incrediblypaleskinstaringather.Shehasredhair,likeEster,andpiercinghazeleyes.Itonly takesasplitsecondforeverythingtocomerushingback.

“Mom?”

Ester was around 4 years old. Her mom had come home with a cruel look on her face.

“Ester,” she had said, “I’m sending you away.”

Four-year-old Ester didn’t understand.

“What,” she had said, “Why? Where am I going?”

“To a friend of mine.”

“Why?” Ester exclaimed, hysterical, “What did I do?”

“Honey,” her mother said, “take a deep breath. The panic will go away soon. When you wake up, you won’t remember you felt it.”

“Myso-calledparents,theonesIlivewithnow,arethefriendsofyours!”Estersays furiously.

Thewomannods.“Thatdidn’ttakeyoulongatall.”

“Yousentmehereasanexperiment!”Estercontinues,“Youwipedmymemory!”

Thecruelsmiledoesn’tleaveherface.“You’vealwaysbeensmart,dear.Imustsay,I’m sadtodestroythistownandseeyougo,butyou’veservedyourpurpose.”

Esterstares.

“I’vealwayswantedtobeincharge,yousee.Tohavepower.Tohavepeopleobeymy everycommand.Imustsay,youhavebeenmosthelpfulinhelpingmefigureouthowtodo that.”

“You’reusingus!”Esterscreams,“youcreatedaperfectcommunitytofindoutthebest waytobeacriminal!Theinternet.Youmessedwithtoseewhatinformationtofeedpeopleto makethembelievethings,tomakethemlistentoyou!”

“My,my.”

“Andthebuilding.”Estercontinues,“Iwenttherewithyouonce,andyouwipeditfrom mymemory!That’swhyIknewitwassomethingfishy,andhowtogettothatmachine!”

Allshegetsforaresponseisthatcruelsmile.

Thenthewomandisappears.Ahologram.Shehadbeenahologramthewholetime.It makessensetoEsterthough.ShehadsaidshewasgoingtodestroyHarmony.Shewouldn’tput herselfindangerfromwhateverwasgoingtoaccomplishthatjobforher.Suddenly,there’san earth-shatteringboom,andthewallscaveinashoweroffire,smoke,anddeath.

Epilogue - 2 years later

Samanthasurvived.Nooneissureofhow,butshedoeswhatEstercouldn’tdo.She makesoutwithherlife.Samanthahasbeentraumatizedeversincebywhathappenedtoher hometown,andherjust-madefriend.ToSamantha,itisandalwayswillbeherfault.Ifshe hadn’tactedimpulsivelyandgonelookingforEster’sdrone,shewouldstillbehere.Thecivil warintheUnitedStatesthattookover300,000livesneverwouldhavehappened.Shewould notbeinthederangedmentalstateshelivedinconstantly.Shehasrealizedonethingthough. Hersilenceisn’thelpinganyone,leastofallherself.

Todayisthedayshe’sfinallygoingtobreakit.

Breeze

Ashley Bicksel

Lunar Landing

By Karmen Snead

Theylookalittlegoofy

Thescreensinblackandwhite

Theirbouncinglikeflames

Theymightfeelelatedunlikeabirthdaycake

deflated

Sittingtherewaiting

Oldbonesfeelrecreated

Whilethey’rekidsaregraying

Ifeltlikeanoutsiderwatchingadream

Catchingbitsandpiecesofuntoldmemories

But it'sonesmallleapformanonegiantleapfor Thoseleftbehind

Possibilities Kyle Walkes

Gray, circular, an island full of holes

A dark, strange empty world

The astronauts are like slow kangaroos, jumping up and down and moving slowly

The astronauts must feel amazed, oozy because of the gravity

They must feel very proud, very honored, The Americans are watching as history is made They surely feel shocked, mystified

I feel nothing, empty towards this But I do not understand how important it is yet

That's one small step for man, one giant leap for our possibilities

Weightless Brooks Gustafson

The moon

200,038 miles away from home

Jumping up and down

I’m here

After so any years of being doubted

I kept believing

I’m here now

Feeling like a feather

Almost floating

“Come on we ’ re leaving”

I regain my senses

Back home we go

To where we will be heroes of our nation

Katy

Hayden McCausland

Butterfly

Cora Richardson

Fox

Gabe Hanson

Nisa Mooganur

Shadows of the Light

Greta Ploetz

Peoplescream,peoplelaugh,peoplecry alone.

Nooneeverseemstolookintheshadows yetthebestideasalwaysarehiding.

Thebestpersonalitiesalwaysget outshinedbythoseseekingattention. Theshadowsarenevermentionedwhen wetalkabouttheshining.

Theloudalwaysareabovethequiet. Theloudareusuallyonadiet. Whilethequietareonabalanceddiet. Theloudhavewhattheycallconfidence. Whilethequietfadeintocommonness. Whenthewavecomescrashingdownthe loudcomecrawlingback. Thequietwillalwaysaccept,pretendto forgive.

Theloudwillgivetheirsnootyopinion behindthebacks,evenrightinfront. Thisisthewaylifegoes:onegruntsone confrontsandinterrupts. Onlysomemakeit.

Untitled Kaitlyn Hooper

Ihonestlydon'tknow

Weareallbornfriendless

Buttheprobabilitiesareendless

Somewillprobablybeignored

SomemightworkataBurgerKing

Andnotbeabledoanything

Theapocalypsemightstart

Butstilltheywouldworkataminimumwage

Feelingiftheyfallwouldthey saysomething isthereevenaword

Iftheydiedotheydiealone

Nowheretogoandnoplacetocallhome

Thoughsomedieinfame

Surroundedbypeoplebutdotheytrulyhave friends

Orweretheyputtingupandactuntiltheend

Thatisthetruthofsociety

Dopeopleeverhavetruehappiness

Ordotheyjustfake

Isthereanyonewholovesandtrulyhaslove

Thatisthequestion

Who Cares? Anonymous

A dream can become a friend, As quickly as it can become a soulless shell Never to be achieved, Stolen

But was it ever yours?

While you could be happy for them, The achievers, Do you really feel that way?

Would you stand till you withered?

Would someone care?

As humans, Our dreams-And others--

Do we feel happy for them?

When your dreams are stolen, Swiftly in the night, What do you feel?

What do you see?

Indifferent? Hurt?

Is the person,

The same as they were? Are they different?

Would they, care?

Emotions engulfs us, Emotions changes the things we do, Hypnosis--

For our person gain Do they really matter, That much--

To us? Would those people, care?

In a world without emotion, Would they still matter?

Would we still protect them? Would those who we protect, care?

How does love really matter, When we only focus on ourselves? The relationship between you and others, How much would it hurt to be broken? If the china doll were to be broken, Nobody would know Nobody would care Strangers, They don’t know us, They don’t care Who cares, Who would care-Nobody

When the dream is stolen, Who will care, You will just stand, Till you fall, You will be on your knees, Till you wither, And wither away Never to be achieved Who Cares

GROUND

Henry Howard

Whatwouldtheworldbeifwedidn’thaveground? Well,there’sasimpleanswer,itwouldn’tbearound. Andnobodyappreciatesit,contrarytoitssize, Yetitishometolike,Idunno,8billionguys?

Whatifitweretodisappear,whatwouldyoudo? You’drealizeit'smuchmoreimportant,wouldn’tyou? Theentireworldwouldcease,objectsflyintospace, Soyoumayaswellappreciateit

JustInCase

Whatifthepowersabovedidn’twantustotakeitforgranted? Andjudgmentdaycameearly,inspacewewerestranded? Whydon’tweallstartnow,addinggroundtoourprayers? Andmaybeonlythenwe’llseetheheavenlystairs?

OrmaybeI’mwrong,Idon’tknowI’mnotagod. Mytheoryhasroomforimprovement,it’sdefinitelystillflawed. DoyouthinkI’mrightordoyouthinkI’minsane? ThiswasallIcouldthinkofasapoemquatrain.

Anyways,backtothemainplot

Ithinkit’sobviousIlikethegroundalot AndIdeeplyapologizetomyunderfootsoil, Ifanyone’sarrogancehasbroughtyouturmoil

AndItrytodefend,justifyingmycase. You’retheonlythingbindingusfromouterspace. IhopethatI’vechangedsomeone’sopinionontheground. Okay,I’mdone,bye,seeyouaround.

FOOTPRINTS

Maddie Rumness

Bus Seat

1943

Rainpouringdowninsheets

Enters

Paysherfare

Exitsandstridestotheentranceattheback

Thebuscomestolife

Itdrivesaway

Anger

Resentment

1955

Walksupthesteps

Enters

Paysherfare

Surveyingthebacksheturnsaroundandsitsdown

Sittingintheclosestrowtotheimaginarydrawnborder

Stoppingandstarting

Throughtheroute

Lookingacrosstheborder,seatsareoccupied

Entering,apersonwiththesamebloodbutcontrastingskin

Thedriver

Hadthesamememoryoftherainydayin1943

Thememorywasstronginhermind,butinhisitwasjusta weakfragment

Movestheimaginaryborder

Backarow

Behindher

Thepeoplesurroundingher

Sameblood,sameskin,sameideas

Forcedtostand

Bythedriver

Sothatsomeoneofthesameblood,butcontrastingskin

Couldtakeaseat,wheretheyweresecondsbefore

Sherefuses

Sheisadamant

Sheispersistent

Sheisdetermined

Shewillnotstand

Shewillnotstandforit

Shewillnotbetoldwhattodobysomeone

Withthesamebloodbutcontrastingskin

Thedriver

Calledtheauthorities

Toldthemtotakeawaythewoman

Withthesamebloodbutcontrastingskin

Takenaway,butstillfightingforfreedom

Toherthatdaywasimportant,tohimitwasjustanotherday

Thedriver

Maddie Rumness

ODE

Sanjeev Belle Trichur

You, ShirleyTemple, arethedrinkIdesireforever. Yourdelicateheartbeat, gentlyfizzing, Ivalue.

Allfancyrestaurants serveyou forthereason ofyourexistence.

YoublazeofRigel AndshiverofPluto

Iadmire thebloom ofyourcrimsonhues Ialwaysfeastmyeyesonyou

Yourpuredelicious inferno firessweetbombs inahullabaloo onacoldday

You arethesweetallure ofsugaryharmonicconflagration.

Theotherheartcluster ofyourpurplebubbling maraschinocherries addthesimplesteer intoasourtouch thatbalancesthesweetfire.

Yousacrificeyourself

tothelipsofmankind

togivethem

prosperity, butnobody seemstoacknowledge yourtaste andexistence

Peopleseeyou

asjustadrink, butIseeyoudifferently, asawholeorganismyourself

You’reofvitalimportance andagargantuantoken

ofhappiness

Comparedtoyou, othersodalackselegance, juiceisbland, andhalfthepopulation can’tevendrink alcohol

Whateveryonedeserves isanAmazonRiver, aCaspianSea, anentirePacificOcean filledwithyou toendsadness, buildfriendships, andliveneventhemostancientbodies intheworld. You’reneverdisliked

Flowers & Knives

Jazz Buitrago

Raystumbledthroughthebrambles. It’s late, herealized.Toolatetoberushingthrough thebranches,pushingtheleavesasidetorun straightintocertaindeath.Ithadbeenthree years.Threewhole years.

“Whyareyoustillsearchingforher?”A voicecalledoutfromthetreetrunks,packed thicktogether.

Ray’sheartstoppedbeatingforasecond. Hadsomeonefollowedhim?Throughthe barbedwirefence?Pastthealligatorpond? Allthewayhere?Why?Wouldtheytellthe towncouncil?Theforestwasn’t that dangerous,butanyonewhowasknownto havesetfootinsideofitquicklydisappeared becauseof“workplacemishaps”or“The Disease”.Itwasfunny,inaway.

“Ray?”Shesteppedintothegracious moonlightcircleoflightrestingonthe foliagenotdisruptinganything.Raywanted tobelikethemoonlightoneday.Cutting throughother’sdarknesseswithouthurting themintheprocess.

Avitaadjustedherchartreusebandanna whilewaitingforaresponse.Avitahada wayofmakingyoufeelsafe,andwelcome.

Shewouldletyoustandaroundincomplete silenceforawhile,untilyouwerereadyto actuallyspeak.

“Iknow,”Raysaid.Thewordstastedfreshon histongue,butalsolikeanoldattic.Theair hadbeenstillinitforeons.“Iknow,butI havetokeepsearching.Laurelcouldbe anywhere.Shecouldbe-”Ray’svoicebroke, andasingletearwettedhisface,rolleddown hischeek,blottedhisboot.

Avita’sbarefeetcrunchedthroughthecrisp leaves.ShewrappedherarmaroundRay, whisperingsoftlyinhisear.“It’sokay.I’m here.You’renotalone.”

Thentherewasasoftwhistlinginthetrees.A lightwhisperinthebranches.Thewind whippedpastAvita,andasmallbrownobject thuddedatRay’sfeet.Hebentdown,and lookedatitmoreclosely.Itwasanotebook. Notjustanynotebook,though.Laurel’s notebook.

“She’snotcomingback,isshe?”Raychoked out.

“No,”Avitareplied.“She’snot.”

Andthat’swhenitcame.

Olivia Greene

A TREE Caeli Boris

A tree

I sit at the bottom of a tree, amongst its great roots

Staring up into its vast branches

Old branches, wise, great, and strong

This is an old tree that has stood the test of time

And has not wavered but grown

It sits alone, by itself

At the top of a hill, looking down upon a lake

Its mighty branches sway in the wind

A few leaves fall off, drifting down to rest upon the surface of the lake

Creating tiny ripples that spread through the still, calm waters

One leaf lands on my outstretched palm

I gaze at it as it gazes at me

Its vivid green color drawing my eye

As dappled sunlight falls on it

It comes from ones that are the same, one among a thousand, yet one of a kind

I gaze at it, laying upon my hand

I continue to gaze at it as the wind lifts it from my hand and carries it away to somewhere new

I turn my gaze back upon the tree

And wonder