Dangerous by Morgan Musgrave
Echoes 2015
The Independent School 8317 E. Douglas Wichita, KS 67207 316.686.0152 www.theindependentschool.com
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Table of Contents
Dirt in My Pockets 1 JACKI DOUGHERTY Crickets 2 TONI MELHADO Pirate Boardroom 3 ABIGAIL PARKER Waterscape 4 BLANCA GARCIA Music and Color 5 AYDEN BOLIN Lion in Living Color 6 MARY MCCOY Drifting Through Life 7 LILY DAVIS Giraffe 8 ABBEY DALEY May I Have This Dance? 9 BLANCA GARCIA Faces 9 ROSE PALMER Red String 10 TINA SCHRAGE Castle 11 HANNAH CARLSON Home 11 SARAH MAYER At The Top of Snowy Mountain 12 SUSAN CHUNG White Roses 12 HANNAH CARLSON That Moment 13 BLANCA GARCIA I Am Melanie 14 MELANIE MASKA I Am Bill 14 BILL LIU Green Tea 14 HANNAH CARLSON Protector 15 BLANCA GARCIA Black and White Tiger 16 RACHEL PACKEBUSH Birds 17 HUY TRAN Spring Birds 17 HUY TRAN Peacock 17 HUY TRAN Wings 18 HANNAH CARLSON Ode To Senior Year 19 BRYONNA STACEY Self Portrait 20 MARY MCCOY Let Me Know 21 MALAK YOUSSEF Wishes 21 JACKI DOUGHERTY
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Table of Contents Tears of the Sky 22 ABIGAIL PARKER Bloom 22 ABIGAIL PARKER Room 313 23 EMILY BRUN From Bud To Bloom 24 RACHEL ZESERMAN Spring Kissed 25 SARAH MAYER I Wish You Would 26 CATHY MCCURLEY Cero Cycle 26 JACKI DOUGHERTY He Made Me Realize 27 KENNEDY DEVORE Lily Pond 27 ABIGAIL PARKER Heart Over Heels 28 TINA SCHRAGE Old Man 28 TERESA CHEN The Collection of Termina 29 ROBERT STEERE Gateway 30 JACKI DOUGHERTY Stream of Consciousness 31 AYDEN BOLIN Raindrops 32 ABBEY DALEY Abstract 33 RACHEL ZESERMAN In Your Eyes 34 TONI MELHADO Ashes 35 EMILY BRUN Pink Wind 36 NICOLE ST. CLAIR Ella 37 MINA FARAHNAKIAN Ella 38 MINA FARAHNAKIAN Woman of Line 39 RACHEL ZESERMAN Ella 40 MINA FARAHNAKIAN Ella 41 MINA FARAHNAKIAN Ghosts 42 MEGAN MASKA & BENJAMIN CARTWRIGHT Ephemeral 43 AYDEN BOLIN Tiger 44 HUY TRAN
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Dirt in My Pockets JACKI DOUGHERTY 2016
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Echoes
Crickets (First Place) TONI MELHADO 2016 Someday, you will leave me. We will say goodbye under a streetlamp Or outside of the airport And you’ll hold me tighter than ever But for now you’re right here And I can reach out and trace you in the grass And feel your laugh in the blades And watch the sun fall And the moon rise And we can talk or listen And lay side by side Someday you will leave me And maybe it will be for someone else Or maybe you’ll say the timing was off Or how we are too young and it was all too fast But for now you’re right here And I’m listening to a cricket chirp And breathing in the smell of you And you are telling me that this is forever And I’m telling myself that it isn’t And thinking of how we are too young And maybe this is too fast Someday I may leave you We will say goodbye under a streetlamp Or outside of the airport And ill hold you tighter than ever But for now I’m right here And you’re telling me you love me And I can’t say it back And I think I love you too but I don’t want to And I’m scared And I’m looking at the stars And thinking about how eventually They’ll all burn up
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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Pirate Boardroom (Runner-up) ABIGAIL PARKER 2017
I swivel a bit in my chair as I try to not doze off. The guy from HR is leading the meeting today and won't stop droning on and on. I swear this coffee is the only thing keeping me awake right now. One of my co-workers sitting to my left taps his pen restlessly. The woman to my right pretends to be taking notes or something, but I can see that she’s doodling on her paper. Everyone in the boardroom seems as distracted as I am. More like bored-room, I think to myself.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” the guy from HR asks. Crap! Did I say that aloud? “Uh...yes..I was, actually. Um, could you go more in depth about the uh…”
Waterscape
“Statistics! Yes, that’s what I was just about to get to,” he said, pointing to a bar graph on the screen behind him. Close one. I try to focus on what he’s saying, but I get distracted by the bandage over his eye. Word around the water cooler is that he got it from a fight. I highly doubt that. I can't help noticing it makes him look like a pirate.
“Hm?” I say as I turn to see the intern looking disappointedly at the coffee pot. “Oh, nothing, I just noticed all the coffee is gone,” she says, “Sorry to disrupt you.” The laptops and binders are back, the parrot is gone, and the guy from HR continues, “Right. As I was saying...”
BLANCA GARCIA 2015
I quietly chuckle to myself as I imagine him with a parrot on his shoulder, repeating whatever boring information he says. I can see it now, the rectangular room and long table are no longer on the third floor of an office building but below deck of an old, musty ship. My coworkers are armed with swords and daggers instead of binders and laptops. The floor rocks back and forth as we plan how to divide our stolen treasure. “Well I say we all get an equal share!” bursts the man to my left as he pounds the table with his fist. The guy from HR, now clad in pirate apparel stammers, “W-well, you see, if you look at the pie chart I made here-”
“I don’t care about yer blasted pie chart! We want the gold!” says the woman to my right. “RAWWK. We want the gold. We want the gold,” the parrot squawks. “Really? You’re supposed to be my parrot, w-where’s the loyalty?” the HR guy says to the parrot. “RAWWK. To Davy Jones’ with loyalty. Want the gold,” is the parrot’s response. Everyone else at the table murmurs “Aye” in agreement until someone in the back of the room mutters, “Aw man all the rum is gone…”
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Echoes
Basketball
Hello my old friend You are back again. I hate you, I love you. And I have missed you.
JACKI DOUGHERTY 2016
My body now belongs to you Along with my time. I have sacrificed everything I am to you I am at your mercy.
Every movement awakens a new muscle I didn’t know existed. There is a snap that clicks with every step I take. My throat is still cold and bare, lungs out of shape. But don’t worry, not for long. There is no skin on the back of my heels Just puckered blisters overlapping, Calluses on my toes, balls of my feet. Toenails are either ripped off or ingrown, making every step sore.
Bruises on my knees and elbows that will never heal. A new coat of purple every practice. Frustrated skin on my calves burn in the shower. I’ve scraped the first layer trying to remove the dust from my shoes.
LEA COCCETELLA 2018
So welcome back basketball.
You’ll change me, But you haven’t changed a bit.
I love you, I hate you. e
Shoes
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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Music and Color (Runner-up) AYDEN
BOLIN 2016
In effect, we fell out. The music ended when the violinist plucked the last note, And as much as I try to remember how to hum the song, What once was will not return. As the music faded, The red curtains closed. Nothing is left, Not even us, I suppose. And we will stumble through hazy colors and mixed remnants, Thinking back on the mistakes that made everything nearly tangible. One day, new colors will appear, enveloped by a new tune, And we will dance in the shade of the new swirling colors. Strong like a roaring wave, Sparkling like city nights, We dashed in ever intersecting zig-zags, Only to unite then swiftly fall. Yet, forgetting is easier every day. It is easier to look forward to another note, Easier to look forward to a new shade. Now easier to let the eyes and ears take in our fragile world.
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Echoes
Lion in Living Color MARY MCCOY 2016
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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Drifting Through Life
LILY DAVIS 2015
Loud. The little white box on my bedside table beamed with light. A loud buzzing rang into my left ear, carrying the sound to my right. My eyelids gradually fluttered open as my eyes focused. Time: 6:32. Fist clenched, I used all my morning strength to pound the top button, shutting off the noise. I flipped the covers off my snug body, as a rush of cold air pushed against the unclothed spaces. I lugged my heavy legs over the edge of the mattress, feeling the stone cold floor beneath my feet. Jolt. The iciness of the ground caused my spine to chill, raising bumps up and down my arms and legs. As I scuffed down the hall, my fingers swept across the intricate and lavish paintings. Suspended only from tiny pins, the canvasses swayed as I slipped past each one. I dragged myself over to the kitchen, nearly bumping every wall and doorway with my drowsy body. A fluorescent diamond ruled chandelier dangled from the highest point of the room, giving off a glare from the polished black walls. I flipped up the silver nozzle attached to the sink in the kitchen. Nothing. My fingers skated across the granite tabletop and clenched a plastic bottle. I squeezed out the remaining liquid into the black, shiny machine, and tossed the bottle over my shoulder. Looking left, I took hold of the red canister, scooping my hand down in. I carried my cupped hand across the counter, scattering the brown grainy powder everywhere. I trickled the remainder of the ground onto a white doily and shut the lid. On. Time: 6:36. “Slow,” I thought. “I’m a snail.” I strolled to the entryway of my small abode. I stood as my eyes peered downward barely maneuvering my neck. A gold slot was positioned about a foot from the ground. The shiny trim around the slot reflected brightly into my eyes as it slowly flapped open. Perfectly creased white papers nudged through and down into the soft rug above the marble. Pile. A mass of folded envelopes with smeared inky print scattered Moments after, my little receiver hummed on the shelf. The message stretched across the display. “Everything you worked for, why do you do this to yourself? Get yourself together.” I shuddered out the meaningless words. A flood of mixed feelings began to dribble down from my brain, blackening my blue blood. “Dammit,” I yelled aloud, rubbing my fists in circular motions across my temples. My body cruised back to my hollow cave, my sanctuary. I flung my body down on my mattress. The once perfectly folded suit now lay limp in a gathering of dust on the floor beneath me, Time: 7:01. Late. I rolled my neck back, pushing my head into my white feather cushion. I stretched my arm out and into an empty drawer adjacent to me. I clutched onto the items within the drawer, and held them to my face. “Don’t,” a 7
Echoes
voice in my head murmured. My fingers closed around a cold cylinder. Sitting up once again, I raised my other hand, grasping a little plastic figure. The clear end of the cylinder lit with an orange heat as I pulled back the silver wheel of the lighter. Exhale. A gust of fine grayish-white particles shifter out from within my lungs and spun in the brightness from the window. The world twisted to tones of black and white. I flung from my soft cloud and shuffled my feet into the glossy room. The bulbs quickly flickered on one by one, illuminating the large space around me. i floated towards the porcelain bowl trapped by three walls. My eyes darted to the side, catching a glimpse of my figure in the mirror. My once pink flesh became a disturbing white color. My eyes strayed over to a hologram of floating numbers. 7:98. I continued my journey towards the pearly looking clam shell-shaped bowl. My back bent forward as I dumped my now blackened rubble from he cylinder into the bowl. I looked down at the reflection of my face in the water. The back residue spread over my expression, pulling the corners of my mouth downward. Hovering over, I tightened my swollen eyes and shook my head from side to side. My finger pressed down on the metallic handle. Flush. I watched as my features swirled and dismembered. I gazed as I flushed my life ABBEY DALEY 2016 away. Gone.
Giraffe
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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May I Have This Dance?
BLANCA GARCIA 2015
Life is like a masquerade, full of hidden faces. Waiting for someone to give them a chance, Save them from loveless embraces, Waiting for someone to ask them to dance, Carry them to safer places. Living in dreams to avoid reality, They hide behind their masks. Afraid to face the harsh brutality, They deny the very task, Forever forcing love into abnormality. Wanting to be picked out of the crowd, “I love you� on their lips. Whispering despite having thoughts so loud. Affection as rare as a total eclipse, Hiding the sun with its darkest shroud. Reaching out, hoping to grasp onto someone, To find a way out of the darkness, To finally have the facade undone, To approach everything with unparalleled starkness, Asking to dance, and for once, not wanting to run.
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Echoes
Faces ROSE PALMER 2017
Red String
TINA SCHRAGE 2015
People say that you only find true love once in your life-- what a sad, pathetic life, if I say so myself. People also say that you live more than once. So every time you die, are you presented with a new love? Does that invisible red string attached from your pinky to another’s get removed and given to someone else? Although there are so many problems with these overly quoted stories, people still believe in them just to think that they belong with someone by fate or whatever nonsense there is. There is no way to prove that these stories are accurate, or if we actually have a red string to lead us to our one true love. Hopefully many people have realized that a portion of Earth’s population dies at a fairly young age, anywhere from in the womb to 18 years old. Due to early death, young people are not given the chance to love another person, or even grasp the overused term love, much less acquire the knowledge of how to love. These, honestly, are the people that I envy. They did not have to undergo the suffering most people have to go through with the false I love you and the lies people shove down our throats. The only thing they lived for was mortality, and the sweet kiss of death was the fate that they endured. Although I question whether or not I have a red string attached to my finger, somewhere in my heart, or my mind, I hope I do. Well, at least this is what I want to believe. He, on the other end of the string, must be living six feet under by this point, or so I assume, because I haven’t come across him yet. All the people that I have found, with the false implications of love and trust, are the ends to other girls’ red strings or they are pitiful men with no morals. To this day, I sit waiting, wherever I may be, to come across the end of my string, but with my luck, I may walk right past him. I have foolishly decided to write to this small audience to ease my edginess of waiting. Soon, you will also see the horrid twist that have yet to come. Although you may be too caught up in the idea of love or have watched
too many sappy romance movies, I know the real pain and tears that are caused by heartbreak. I am not going to die anytime soon, hopefully. I do not have any diseases, cancers, illnesses -currently. I am healthy, I am radiant, and I even have a strong immune system. Yet, I have no luck with love. It is devastating, but also relieving. If I had not had any heartbreaks, you would not get to hear from me, unless, I chose to write about how awesome love is and all that jazz. I am getting sidetracked. Let me get back to the main point: love. In its quintessence, it is blissful, but after that, it results in fights, anger, crying, anything that you can think of that is hurtful to your self-esteem. I mean, I know every couple has had their fights, but these are different. They aren’t over who is going to pick the movie or who is going to buy dinner. These fights are about something completely simplistic, like whether or not you talk to each other at all hours of the day or if one of you is overly upset for no apparent reason. There are so many flaws in the world of love, people do not understand them until they experience it for themselves. I didn’t believe it until I experienced it, for what I thought was, the first time. After that, I played the girl who hid from boys unless it was safe to talk with them. I hoped for happiness at the beginning, but it never worked out that way. Now, I am sitting here at this cafe, watching as the love birds walk by, judging them completely, taking bets with myself on how long they are going to last. Good thing is that if I lose, I will just have to pay myself. But wait a second... How long has this stranger been sitting in front of me? Why have I not seen him around before? He is extremely good looking-- his deep brown eyes, his luscious curls, his smile, even... What am I to do with myself... Is he the other end of my red string? I can feel my heart beating rapidly. Is this what those authors mean by love at first sight? If it is, I kind of like it...
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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HANNAH CARLSON 2015
CASTLE
eHome
Hom
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SARAH MAYER 2016 Behind me glows the rising morning sun. Its soft light gently touches the house, And each red brick casts off its nightly shadow. Every flower turns its head to greet the warmth And freely gives a fragrant offering. A mighty oak tree calmly stands sentinel. Its limbs--laden with acorns--sway in the breeze. Birds, confident in song, flutter from branch to branch. Their dark bodies contrast the light blue sky. Here--though the ground is wet--I know I can stand, And my bare feet strongly pound against the dirt. Here--where light soft, ground wet, air sweet, Legs strong, and arms open--I know I am home.
At The Top of Snowy Mountain
SUSAN CHUNG 2015 When I went up Along the mountain covered with snow There’s a place I couldn’t see at the bottom Big and tall trees wearing snow clothes Severe wind I didn’t feel at the bottom But a feel that I’m healed in a calm and comfortable place I can see the world under this steep hill It’s the time I am not worried for anything Let me be part of this snowy mountain There’s nothing that makes me scared As the winter gores and spring comes This moment also passes
WHITE ROSES
HANNAH CARLSON 2015
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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That Moment (First Place)
BLANCA GARCIA 2015
Have you ever experienced that moment when the world seems like a separate place? When reality begins to feel like fantasy and if you blink everything might disappear. You might disappear. That moment where if you do not grab it tightly with both hands, you might just drift away. When you know everything you see is a lie, but nothing else has ever felt so true. You are stuck in between hope and despair. Hoping and praying to come out on the right side, whatever that may be. When every inspirational speech you have ever read or heard begins to run through your head: “Don’t give up.” “Keep pushing forward.” “You can do it.” But then you start to doubt. Can I do it? Which way is forward? Giving up does not sound so bad. That moment when you can stand in the middle of a crowd and feel entirely alone. Almost as if you were never there in the first place. When you can shout until your throat aches and scream until your lungs burn, but no one else is listening. If just one person could glance in your direction and acknowledge your existence, you might be okay. You might be somebody. No one ever looks. No one ever listens. You can cry yourself to sleep every night, but you are the only one who notices. The only one who cares. That moment where you recognize your own despair but shy away from it, thinking, I am not that person, I am not that sad, lonely character. You deny the things that haunt you, telling yourself that nothing really bothers you. You are made of stone and you can handle anything. You do not need anybody. You convince yourself that the crumbling stone around your feet has always been there, because you are strong and sturdy. Nothing can break you. The flashes of heat that envelop your entire body are merely the effects of having walked or moved any part of your body. The shaking in your hands is because you are cold, or tired, or whatever sane explanation you can come up with. The only reason that you are somehow always on the verge of tears is because you have really, really bad allergies. Thinking that they should really check the pressure in the room because you cannot draw a full breath. This is not you. You are not weak. That fissure extending down your middle, splitting you in half, is nothing more than a blemish. You are fully capable of holding yourself together. Then people begin to prod at the crevice, without even realizing what they are doing because you refuse to acknowledge that you are damaged. Every nudge cuts down deeper, till they are striking at your very core and you cannot hide anymore. You are forced to accept the blemish as what it truly is, a problem. A deep, ragged, defect in your very being. You tell yourself that now that you know it is there you can keep it from taking up anymore room inside of you. You can stop this. You continue to tell yourself this until that final blow catapults you over the edge. So far over that you cannot see the ledge anymore. You shatter into millions of prickly shards and realize that you cannot put yourself back together. You cannot do this alone, you never could. Everybody needs somebody to apply the cement at soon as a fissure appears. To hold them until the wound seals. When left alone we all will eventually fall apart, no matter how strong we think we are. We can fight until our knuckles bleed, but we are only hurting ourselves. How are we going to bind our own wounds with two damaged hands? We cannot. We have to ask for help or we will never be saved. We cannot stand alone and wait to heal because we will bleed out before that ever happens. We need someone else to bind our wounds, so that we can heal. Have you ever experienced that moment when someone you love pulled you out of the haze? I have.
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Echoes
I Am Melanie
MELANIE MASKA 2018
I I I I I
am young and in touch with myself. wonder about my future. hear his heart beat when I lay on his chest. see a beach from a balcony. I want my family back together. am young and in touch with myself.
I I I I I
pretend to be perfect. I feel “okay.” touch his heart. worry about my mother’s expectations. cry to feel all right. am young and in touch with myself.
I I I I I I
understand people have struggles. say I’m trying my best. dream to meet expectations. try my best. hope everything is okay in the end. am young and in touch with myself.
I Am Bill BILL LIU 2018 I am missing and messing up I wonder to tanning on the cloud I hear sakura fluttering in the breeze See the wind dancing among the freeze I want to experience what this is I am missing and messing up I pretend to forget myself I feel I’m crossing the shadow I touch my heart with cold love I worry if you’re leaving I cry about what you thought I am missing and messing up I understand time is not lost I say my heart is warming up I dream in a daffodil I try to believe that it is true I hope I have falling down I am missing and messing up.
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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Protector (First Place) BLANCA GARCIA 2015 The rain beat down upon his back. It was moments like this that would cause any normal man to call it quits and turn in for the night, but Ricky Calaver wasn’t most guys, and normal was not a part of his description. He leaned back against the brick wall and gazed around the dark alley. He had found this place for him and his family to crash the night before. It was a small storage shed that looked to be long ago forgotten. His family was made up of two other people: Jonas and Charlotte. Jonas had been his best friend since they were kids, they were both nineteen and closer than brothers. Charlotte was his eleven year old sister. Their parents had been lost in the war, as had Jonas’ family, and Ricky had taken care of Charlotte ever since. He would do anything for her. He was determined to not let the hell they were living in affect her innocent nature. It’s what kept him going above all else. They have been in constant motion for over a year now. Never staying in one place for more than a few nights was hard. They struggled to find food, clothes, or even a place to sleep, but if they stayed in one place, they would die. They learned that the hard way. At one time, their family had another person. They tried to make a home, stay in one place and have a semblance of a life. That had been a mistake. They were found and attacked. Ricky couldn’t save everyone. Her name was Janelle, they all called her Ellie. She was his best friend and fiancé. Before, 18 would have been too young to think about marriage, but after the war, things changed. They were constantly fighting for their lives, and he wanted to spend the rest of his with her. He hadn’t moved fast enough. He hadn’t fought hard enough. They got to her before he did, and every day without her was his punishment. He held her in his lap as she left him, and stayed like that long after she was gone. He would have probably stayed like that forever if he hadn’t heard Charlotte calling his name. His instinct to protect his sister from witnessing anything as horrible as that was what got him off his feet and moved him to the door. He spotted Jonas and Charlotte down the hall; they saw him at the same time and rushed over. He stopped Charlotte just before she got her arms around him. He was covered in Ellie’s blood. Jonas acted fast and pulled Charlotte up into his arms. After taking in the sight of Ricky, a pained look crossed Jonas’s face. Ricky slid down the door and was sitting on the floor. Jonas and Charlotte crouched down beside him and stayed there, never saying a word. Charlotte was only ten at the time, but she could put two and two together. Tears slid down her cheeks and she began to whimper. Ricky pulled her into his lap and held her tight, comforting her as she held on to him. At some point during the night, Jonas got up and disappeared. He reappeared a little later covered in dirt. Without a word he went into the room, shutting the door behind him. After about thirty minutes, he opened the door and caught Ricky’s eye. Ricky stood up slowly, lowering the now sleeping Charlotte to the ground. He followed Jonas into the room and helped him carry Ellie’s body out to the back. Jonas cleaned her up and wrapped her in a sheet. They lowered her into the hole Jonas dug and piled the dirt back on top. Jonas found a piece of wood and grabbed a knife. Ricky took the two and carved the words “Janelle Ellie Calaver. You’ll always be our family. Never forget,” into the wood. He stuck the makeshift gravestone into the pile of dirt, gave it one last look, and turned to walk away. Jonas placed his hand on Ricky’s shoulder and followed him inside. Neither of them said a word the entire time. Now they never stayed in one place. They never relaxed. They never let their guards down. They were constantly moving, trying to outrun the dangers of the world. Ricky never had been the same after that night. He talked much less, and hardly cracked a smile. He was always on edge, ready for anything. He became a fighter. He never stopped fighting. He pushed and pushed and never walked away. He was determined to never be too late again. He broke anyone who stood in his way. He fought so hard that he had earned a reputation. They called him the “44 Caliber Calaver,” because he was big, strong, and could take a man down with one shot. His reputation followed him everywhere he went. The stories grew and grew until they became legends. Ricky didn’t care about the fame or the stories, all that mattered to him was that his reputation kept people away from his family, but never left him wanting for a fight, because who didn’t want to try to beat the legend himself. Ricky was covered in scars, but none as deep as the ones inside of him. He was a great fighter, but he still took some devastating blows. Still, he got back up from every one of them. Leaning back against the alley wall, letting the rain wash over him, Ricky heard a scream. There was nothing unusual about screams in the middle of the night anymore. In fact, a silent night is the most worrisome. Ricky straightened up, preparing himself, in the attackers found a way to their hide out. He heard the leering and the taunts coming closer to him, along with the sound of rapid footsteps. Ricky looked to the entrance of the alley just as a girl burst into sight and ran straight towards him. Her eyes were full of fright, but there was something else in them as well. Determination. She skidded to a halt near him and took a few steps backwards, realizing that she had run into a dead-end. They both whipped their heads back towards the entrance of the alley to see three men come into view. Ricky glanced at the girl and she caught his eye. Her eyes were pleading with his, begging
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for help. While a fight sounded great, he didn’t like fighting near Charlotte. He knew that they were probably already awake inside. Jonas would be protecting Charlotte, in case someone got past Ricky. He also knew that he couldn’t let these men take the girl without doing anything to stop it. He let out a frustrated sigh and turned to the girl, “Go inside,” he said, pointing to the door of the storage shed. She hesitated, glancing back at the guys making their way towards them, before slipping into the shed. Ricky turned and faced the approaching men. Their predatory smirks widened when they saw him. The man in the middle nodded to him and said, “Hey man, you’re not going to keep her all to yourself, now are you? We did see her first.” From the corner of his eye, Ricky glanced the man on the right slide a knife out of his pocket. The man on the left, looked practically giddy as he cracked his knuckles. Ricky stared down at the man in the middle and replied with, “I’m not really the sharing type, maybe you should run along home.” The sneers slipped slightly from the faces of all three men before reappearing. The man in the middle, obviously the leader, spoke again, “We chased that pretty girlie all over these back alleys to gain our prize. We aren’t just going to give it up now. We don’t want to hurt you, friend, but that bit of skirt is—,” Just as the last words left the man’s lips, Ricky smashed his fist into the guy’s face. The man staggered back before regaining his balance, and just like that, all three men came at him at once. The man on the right arched his knife towards Ricky’s middle just as the man on the left swung a fist at his face. The leader went in for a punch to Ricky’s gut. Adrenaline pumped through Ricky’s entire body, pushing everything into sharp focus. It was always amazing how fast he could move. He sidestepped the knife, ducked away from the fist flying towards his face, and grabbed the leader’s arm just before it made contact with his stomach. He twisted the leaders arm behind his back and shoved him up against the alley wall, holding him there. While restraining the leader he kicked the left man in the knee, not taking the time to watch him crash to the ground, but still hearing the howl of pain. Ricky then disarmed the man on the right before elbowing him in the face, shattering his nose, and kneeing him in the stomach, dropping him to the ground also. He yanked the leader around and pressed the knife that had belonged to the man on the right against his throat. Ricky stared into the man’s eyes and said very softly, “Run.” He pushed the man down alongside his comrades and stood there until they got to their feet and limped away. A few minutes after they were gone he called out, “Clear!” Charlotte rushed out and wrapped her thin arms around his waist. He picked her up, squeezed her tight and lowered her back down. Jonas came out next and looked him up and down before cracking a sideways smile and moving to lean against the wall where Ricky had previously been standing. All three of them looked towards the shed as the girl slowly walked out. She looked to be about 17. She stepped in front of him, pushed back her shoulders, set her expression and said, “Uh- Thanks. I um- appreciate your help. I’m just going to get out of your hair.” She turned to leave, but Ricky reached out and grabbed her arm. She jerked around and her eyes widened. Before he could speak, she blurted out, “I may be grateful, but that stuff you said about me being yours— I don’t belong to anybody!” Her face became a startling shade of red, her nostrils flared, and her lips set in a defensive line. Despite his best efforts, Ricky let loose a chuckle. Even after all of that, she was still determined to be brave and have her way. Ricky released her arm, stepped towards her, and with the slightest hint of a true smile said, “I was just going to warn you that the men are probably out there somewhere waiting on you. I would let things settle down before you go out on your own again. It’s dangerous to walk alone out here. You can stay here for the night with us. I’ll keep you safe.” He had expected her to take the offer of safety without hesitation, but she didn’t do that. Instead she took a step towards him and angrily said, “I am not spending the night with you. I thought I already clarified that, and just because I am a girl doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself or walk the streets alone.” This time he outright laughed, as did Jonas. Charlotte had been standing by, watching the discussion silently. Ricky took a step back, raised his arms and said, “I didn’t mean for you to spend the night with me. I was only offering you safety and shelter for the night. Also, it’s dangerous for anybody to walk alone out here— not just a girl. If you wish to go out and risk your life after all I just did to save you, fine. I won’t stop you.” This time, uncertainty shown in her eyes, and seeped through her stubbornness. Charlotte took that moment to step up to the girl and take her hand. She smiled up at her and said, “My name’s Charlotte. This is my brother Ricky and this is Jonas. He’s basically our other brother. My big brother is good. I promise that he won’t hurt you, but those men will. Will you please stay with us for the night?” Ricky stared at his sister, kind she was. Ricky then looked back to the girl and watched in awe as the indecision melted from her face. She crouched down beside Charlotte, took her hand and said, “Hi Charlotte, my name is Elizabeth. People call be Ellie. I guess I can stay for one night,” and then, glancing up at Ricky, she said, “We can see if you’re right about this big brother of yours.” All three of them were silent, staring at the girl. Ricky stepped forward, took her hand, and guided her back to her feet. His eyes had glazed over and a fluttering had started in his abdomen. He led her to the shed, and just before he let her go, he turned her to face him and said, “I promise you’ll be safe with me. No one will hurt you again.” She gave him an odd, yet grateful look before ducking inside. After starting at each other in silence, Charlotte and Jonas followed the girl inside. Ricky leaned back against the brick wall, all of a sudden realizing that the rain had stopped. He looked up at the sky and let a smile grace his lips.
Black and White Tiger
RACHEL PACKEBUSH 2015
Two Thousand and Fifteen
16
Birds
Spring Birds
HUY TRAN 2016
Peacock
17
Echoes
HUY TRAN 2016
HUY TRAN 2016
Wings
HANNAH CARLSON 2015
My nest is getting small it’s time for mama to push me. Falling falling down. What did I do? I don’t know. Falling falling down. I spread my wings and fly. To where? I don’t know. But here I go. Soaring high above nowhere to go but up.
Two Thousand and Fifteen
18
ODE TO SENIOR YEAR BRYONNA STACEY 2015
People talk and dream about senior year for years before it comes. They talk about how great will be but few talk about the truth of senior year and how it is different. There are a couple of main items of senior year that people do not completely understand. Here’s an ode to senior year, a year far different from what people will tell you. First of all, college planning can be difficult and stressful. Seniors have to choose which colleges are worth applying to , which scholarships to trying for, and where in the country they want to go. There are essays to write, resumes to organize, and recommendation letters to receive. On top of all college planning items that need to finish, seniors have schoolwork to finish. Some seniors take AP classes, some are leaders of various clubs and teams, and some are just trying to finish high school and move on with their lives. Either way, senior year is harder than people think it is. Senioritis is the decrease motivation of a senior for activities or work. Throughout high school, I truly believed that senioritis was only a placebo effect; I thought that if I didn’t believe in it, it would not happen to me. In reality, I was rather naive about it as many people are. Despite my lack of belief on the issue, I have been experiencing it rather substantially. Even though I continue trying and doing what I am suppose to, it is hard not to succumb to the lack of motivation. The seniors that really care about the activities and people around them show it by fighting senioritis with all they have, those that do not have true interest in their activities do not care whether or not they let the people down around them. The seniors that are remembered in the greatest light are those that fight senioritis. Appreciation for teachers, faculty members, and administers is something that is not always thought about by under classmen. As it starts hitting seniors that they will not be back next year, they start to realize the impact that all the people in the school have made on them. When students start looking, they start to realize that the teachers, faculty members, and administers see new freshmen coming in and old seniors leaving every year. They put everything they have into students just to watch them leave and rarely come back and visit, no matter how much they say they will. This can be so heart wrenching, especially when the students do not see all that they try to do for them. They try to smile and be happy for the students ‘starting their lives’ after high school and feeling proud that they put in so much work and it paid off. All these people are so strong for being able to continue investing so much in students that just end up leaving them forever at the end of the year. Seniors begin to start to feel thankful for those that have put in so much time and effort into them. Throughout senior year, the masks begin to melt away. So many students do not realize that the people they sit in classrooms with are often wearing masks. Something happens senior year, those masks begin to melt away; you begin to see your fellow seniors in a different light. Throughout high school, it is so easy for people to become one sided to most people, the athlete is only an athlete, the band geek is only a band geek, and the theater kid is only a theater kid. Often personality traits are all we see as well. That guy is the smart one, that girl is the pretty one, that person is the nice one, that person is the mean one. Throughout senior year, these personas start to leave all of us; we all begin to should our true likes and dislikes, our hopes and dreams, and even our fears. For this reason senior year is so beautiful. All the seniors that I’ve grown up, the ones I thought I knew so well, turn out to be more talented, more creative, and more passionate than I could have ever imagine. There isn’t one senior that hasn’t shown a side of him or her that he or she has kept hidden for so long. Maybe that’s why senior year is so sad in the end, because you start feeling like you finally know how wonderful those are around you just in time to leave and never speak with them again. For years, my class of 2015 has been labeled as ‘the bad class,’ ‘the class that cannot turn anything in on time,’ ‘the class that is mean,’ ‘the class that just needs to apply themselves,’ and so many more labels have been given. For this fact, it is rather surprising that my class turned out to be full of school spirit, great leaders, and kind people. So here’s to my wonderful senior class, I am honored to be a part of the wonderful class of 2015.
19
Echoes
Self Portrait MARY MCCOY 2016
Two Thousand and Fifteen
20
Let Me Know
MALAK YOUSSEF 2015
Let’s compare it to the beauty of the stars.
Darling is my favorite though.
Or we can make it into something new.
We can create our own sweet words,
We can make it into something so unique
or we can use something so cliche.
that it’s completely unimaginable.
“Kiss me like the sun kisses the ocean
We can spend every minute together,
We can make it into something original,
as it reaches the end of its sunset.”
or we can stay apart for weeks.
or let’s just make it into something known. Together we can laugh for hours, You can give me as many silly names as you or we can cry for days. want; We can mourn the losses of life, sweetpie, sugar plum, honey biscuit. or we can celebrate the joys It can be as ridiculous as you want it to be, that have yet to come. it doesn’t even have to make sense.
21
Echoes
We can spend the rest of our lives together, if you want that too.
Darling, let me know if this love is what you want cause it’s what I need.
Tears of the Sky
ABIGAIL PARKER 2017
All around me, the world is still and quiet. The air hangs heavy like words unsaid. The dry earth waits patiently for a cloud to burst and rain to quench its thirst. The birds have stopped singing, in the calm before the storm All to be heard is the echo of children’s laughter. I hear nothing else shortly after. Drip...Drop..Drip, Drop. Slowly, drops of salvation begin to fall from above. People scurry inside to stay warm and dry, but I don’t mind the tears of the sky. It has been far too long since rain last fell and the earth rejoices in its return. At last, the rain is here. A part of me hopes the clouds never clear. I lift my head towards the sky and smile as I breathe in the fresh smell of rain. Rain is not sadness, not despair, rain has a peaceful air. While others go about their day, I sit and watch the rain wash away all of yesterday’s built up sorrow, and trust that the sun will return tomorrow.
Bloom
ABIGAIL PARKER 2017
Two Thousand and Fifteen
22
Room 313
EMILY BRUN 2017
I knew walking into Room 313, that it would be the last time I would to see you. You knew it too. You were ready. You had come to terms with the fact that it was time to go. This illness had run its course. You’d had enough. We spent the day before looking through old photographs. The ones from before your body had betrayed you and set fire to itself. We picked up each one and rehashed the story behind it. I laughed at the one I snuck of you preparing our two-year anniversary dinner. I laughed as we thumbed through those memories. I couldn’t help but feel my chest begin to rip itself open, and I was trying my best to smile for you. You’d seen me cry enough. I hope our time spent together made you feel something. After all, you were going to a better place. You were exiting my world, as well as everyone else’s. However, as we allowed ourselves to plummet down memory lane, I watched you smile. I then realized how exhausted this illness had made you. You hated the cancer more than you loved me and it caused me the kind of pain that you dealt with. I wanted you to keep fighting with the blind hope that one day we would wake up and your disease would vanish. I wasn’t ready to let you go. It seemed I was just beginning to love you. You were only just beginning to live. Yet, a part of me was sick of crying as well. I had watched the disease rip at your soul for months. Watching you endure such physical and emotional pain was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to. I was exhausted, and deep down, I knew it was time for you to go too. On that afternoon, the very last day of your life, I told you I wished you were strong enough to continue fighting for the little life you had left. To fight your failing health. You stood up, for the first time in weeks, and pulled me in for what I knew was our final embrace. You felt so familiar. I took several seconds to memorize every aspect of your perfect existence. I memorized you the way you’d memorize notes for a test. I took mental pictures of the freckles on your shoulders from eighteen years of sun exposure. I breathed you in, and it baffled me how you could still smell like home when you were miles away from it. I broke down in the crook of your neck at the thought of you forgetting who I was as you sat in a world above me. My eyes shut, I was physically incapable of releasing you from my grasp. After a few more seconds, I opened my eyes. You were gone. And I have yet to discontinue missing you.
23
Echoes
From Bud To Bloom From Bud ToZESERMAN Bloom RACHEL 2016 Rachel Zeserman ‘16
Two Thousand and Fifteen
24
La Primavera Besaba
Spring Kissed
by Antonio Machado
25
translated by SARAH MAYER 2016
La primavera besaba suavemente la arboleda, y el verde nuevo brotaba como una verde humareda.
Spring gently kissed the groves and the new sprouting green, like a green cloud of smoke.
Las nubes iban pasando sobre el campo juvenil... Yo vi en las hojas temblando las frescas lluvias de abril.
The clouds passed over the young country side and I saw the branches shivering from the fresh rains of April.
Bajo ese almendro florido, todo cargado de flor -recorde-, yo he maldecido mi juventud sin amor.
Under the flowering almond laden with blossoms, I remember I’ve cursed my loveless youth.
Hoy, en mitad de la vida, me he parado a meditar... !Juventud nunca vivida quién te volviera a soñar!
Now, half way through life I’ve stopped to meditate… A youth unlived returns to dream!
Black REED Glass NOLTE 2018 Echoes
Two Thousand and Fifteen
28
I wish you would have stepped back
I Wish You Would
(In memory of Coach Chris Jones 1969-2014)
CATHY MCCURLEY 2016
farther, farther taken a good look, at everything you have those who loved you those who cared those who would do absolutely anything conceivable, to see you smile one more time instead, I stepped back farther, farther all of us, dressed in black gathered around a six foot hole in the ground and it was in that moment that I realized how shallow that hole must feel in comparison to the hole miles deep your mind had fallen into walking away farther, farther I know you were there, I know you could see. looking down your realized how much you mattered but that wasn't enough to destroy the dark passenger who poisoned your thoughts who poured you out, laughing as the last drop fell
Cero Cycle JACKI DOUGHERTY 2016
still, I wish you could come back I wish you would 27 Echoes
Two Thousand and Fifteen
26
He Made Me Realize
KENNEDY DEVORE 2018 He made me realize I was wrong. Questioning me for ever questioning myself. My beauty, my brain. I was wrong. He apologized for everyone that made me feel like I had to apologize for being myself. My beauty, my brain. I was wrong. You’re so beautiful, you’re so kind, you’re so lovely. I was wrong. He made me realize I was never going to be like them. Never going to be like them. But that’s okay. He didn’t fall in love with them. He fell in love with me. He chose me. He chose me like the harvester picks his
27
Echoes
grapes for his finest wines. He chose me. And when he chose me, he chose all of me. Me the broken. Me the damaged. Me the never going to make it. Me the bruised. Me the not worthy. Me holding on by a thread that is no longer there. Me the kind hearted. Me the trying even though it’s hard. Me the crying but its not worth dying. Me the strong. Me the brave. Me the goddamn I am beautiful. He chose me for me. And that’s all I am ever going to be…me.
Lily Pond
ABIGAIL PARKER 2017
Heart Over Heels (Runner-up)
TINA SCHRAGE 2015
It started off as a small, innocent crush. That was all it was supposed to be, nothing more. It never stays that way, does it? Your heart feels what it wants and then the feeling grows and grows, spreading throughout your body, informing your mind that you feel a certain way about a certain someone, but your mind knows better than to trust your heart. “He is out of your league.” “He is too old for you,” you badger yourself constantly, trying to ignore the beating in your chest when you see him every once in awhile. After a while, your mind and actions start to cave. Your heart desires the love that it feels and your mind unintentionally wants to feel what your heart does. Your conscience tells you every day, “Go see him! He is right there! Go, go, go,” and you, yourself, begin to believe that there might be hope for you and that certain someone. But reality takes over again. “It’s not possible. Stop falling for him.” Craving. That’s all your mind and heart need to go after something. Without realizing it, you start to see him more. You think it is a coincidence, but really, your mind has been thinking up of ways to see him while you are sleeping. You change your class schedule, you walk a different way to class, you leave school at a different time, you even leave your class when he leaves, hoping to get a simple “See you later,” or “Bye.’ The mind pulls crazy tricks on you. Is it even possible, with the age difference, to love him and for him to love you? Probably not. He is much wiser than you will ever be. He is definitely stronger than you, mentally and physically. It would never work. No matter how much your heart pounds in your chest, giving you butterflies, it’ll never, ever work out. Go ahead. Take a chance. Listen to your heart for once. There you are, go now. Crumble, crumble. Oh, you came back, did you? How did that turn out? Poorly? Yeah, I know. Now, listen to me: Do not trust your heart. I, your own mind, told you from the start that you were too young and that he would not like you. Now move along and search among the other fish in the sea. On second thought, don’t even search. Don’t even talk. Stay away from those fish. You need a break from them to reassemble your confidence. You will need to build up your strength. One day, when you are strong enough to swim up stream without any help or guidance, you will be able to venture out into the world and find another fish.
Old Man (Runner-up)
TERESA CHEN 2018
Two Thousand and Fifteen
28
An Exerpt from The Collection of Termina ROBERT STEERE 2016
The thief was quick. He ran towards Hammond and ducked under his first strike. Hammon swung again horizontally and the thief met his blow. The thief, even with his mask, was no match in strength for Hammond. He was knocked back and put off balance. Hammond ran towards him and the thief rolled away and turned to face Hammond five feet away. The thief inhaled and breathed out an intense wave of fire from his lips. Hammond stepped back and tried to escape the fire. While dazed, the thief ran through his own flames and stabbed at Hammond. Hammond turned so the swords stabbed where he was and scratched against his armor mail. Hammond used his momentum to spin around and hit the thief in the back of the head. The thief was dazed and swung wildly at Hammond. The warrior parried the blow and swung at his arms. Hammond’s sword sliced wetly through the meat of the man’s arm. The thief’s arm hit the floor with a wet and meaty thud. The thief cried out and leaked red ooze onto the wood floor. The bleeding thief fell to his knees. Hammond lifted his sword and swung diagonally across the thief’s chest. As the body fell, it split into two halves. In the middle of the mess were the guts and blood running from the man’s abdomen. From behind Hammond, the collector strode to the dead body on the floor. He bent over and picked up his mask. The corpse on the floor seemed to dim, then pale, then disappear altogether. Nothing remained where the thief had been. Confused, Hammond turned and looked at the Maker and the Collector. “Yes, funny isn’t it. Even after seeing so much death, you never get used to seeing a man’s life leave him. The thief wanted the mask to prevent his own from leaving him. He hoped that the mask would prevent his passing, but I came for him still,” said the Collector. “Now Hammond, I reward you. We think you’ve done enough, fought enough.” The collector reached toward him and grabbed Hammond’s mask from his face. “You were a fine creation, I am very proud of what we have made Hammond,” said the Maker. Hammonds form began to fade and diminish. He suddenly felt very tired and wanted to lie down. “All things end Hammond. I have done my part in your destiny. I am your Maker.” “And I am here to write the final passage of your life, Hammond. I am here to Collect you.” With those words ringing dully in his ears, Hammond’s eyes fell heavily and he drifted off to a deep sleep. to view this story in its entirety please visit our website www.wordpress.echoesliterarymagazine.com 29
Echoes
Gateway
JACKI DOUGHERTY 2016
Two Thousand and Fifteen
30
A
Stream of Consciousness AYDEN BOLIN 2016
I have nothing to write. I have nothing to write. But I have some things to write. The rain in Spain falls mainly in the— Next. I have nothing to write. I have not a thing to write. I do not possess any ideas of which to write about. If my ideas are my own possessions, then they are my own intellectual property; however, some claim that one can never create their own ideas, because the thought has already been thought at least once before by someone else. If so, am I engaging in some sort of, intellectual theft? A neuron robbery? A plagiarism of the pathos? Next. I have nothing to write about. I have writer’s block. My mind is a blank black empty sphere. My brain is part of the void. Oh how I dread the dreary day that this becomes my reality. Where my eyes close and I get to discover the void. But how feared is the void? I mean, if someone is miserable, then anywhere they go afterwards would inherently be better than where they are now. Maybe when we say “They’re in a better place,” it really means that no matter what happens afterwards, they were ready. They were ready because they were miserable. But, I’m not miserable— Next. 31
Echoes
I am thoughtless. My head is without thought. Thoughtless. Reckless. Still have the old battle scars, huh? The ones you got doing stupid crap. The scar on your pinkie from slamming your fingers in your locker because you just wanted to “see if you could close it from the top.” The dark pink mark left in your elbow because you were out skating one day and “forgot to wax the curb.” The white circle of scar tissue on your hip from taking grandpa’s ad-vice and actually rubbing dirt in a scrape. “You’re the dumbest smart person I know”— Next. I am without ideas. I am a shell with not a thought to fill me. I remember the shells on the beach. We collected them like coins and little by little, the beach became less inhabited. What kid wouldn’t want to collect the beach? They could have it all to themselves, just a few shells in the pocket. Is this what causes greed? Is this why some grow up, thinking they could have that whole beach? Are tyrants and dictators just overgrown children, aspiring to collect the world and put its fragments in their dingy pockets, not letting anyone stop them from doing so? CAN SEASHELL COLLECTORS REALLY RULE THE WORLD?— Next. It’s getting late and I’ve written nothing. It’s getting late, but I guess I’ve done something. I’ve pondered and thought. I’ve connected the dots. And even if it isn’t a lot, I can leave this page knowing, That I should stick to stories for a while.
Raindrops
ABBEY DALEY 2016
Two Thousand and Fifteen
32
Abstract
RACHEL ZESERMAN 2016
33
Echoes
In Your Eyes TONI MELHADO 2016
I’ve never really liked
I’ve never really liked Sunsets. For some reason The fiery exit Made of bold pinks and soft reds Always made me think Of a final goodbye. Somehow watching the Sun falling away from the Earth Made me feel like Letting go Is too easy And happens too fast. I’ve never really liked Sunsets, But I must admit That it is quite noble Of the sun To step back And let her sisters Shine through. And I will say That I love nothing more Than watching The moon Timidly make his way To center stage. No, I’ve never really liked Sunsets, But I would Watch the sun die A million times If it meant I could see the Stars Come Alive In Your Eyes.
Two Thousand and Fifteen
34
Ashes EMILY BRUN 2017 It never really made any sense to me. How something can exist one moment and in another it goes up in flames and disappears into a puff of smoke. How something that held such promise and purpose can be destroyed in one second. In one second, everything can come crashing down like the walls your soul had worked so hard to build. It begins when someone sets a fire in the pit of your chest you realize you will never be able to extinguish. It engulfs your being in burning flames and does not rest until the remainder of your sprit is a pile of ashes that clings to your throat. It prevents you from breathing or saying the things that become important. At first the fire is warm and comforting. It fills your soul with a mild closeness that quiets the mind and relieves the anxious of their apprehension. It sends you into a frenzy of spinning hurdles that impair all preconceived ideas of love and what comes after. As the flame kindles in the bed of your soul you become accustomed to its soothing ways until you are reduced to ashes and the flame has burned out. Then all that is left are the ashes and the puffs of smoke. It surprises many that it is not the sadness that has them doubled over in the kind of agony that leaves them wholly broken and breathless; the emptiness that lingers where the flame used to be. You then proceed to attempt to fill the emptiness with temporary distractions that distort your mind. The puffs of smoke that had once been the only beautiful thing you had in your life now escape your lips in a form of corrupted exhalation that fools your brain into thinking you are happy when really you’ve never been more lugubrious. You drown yourself in cheap booze and beat your own body like a punching bag until your physical being is just as tired and worn as your mental. You waste hours in front of screens and talking to people that are supposed to help, but only end up wasting your time. And eventually, when the flame has died and the ashes have all blown away, you are left with the coldest heir of vacancy. You yearn for the pain, anything to fill the empty space that had once been occupied by the only fire you could ever love.
35
Echoes
Pink Wind
NICOLE ST. CLAIR 2016
Two Thousand and Fifteen
36
Ella MINA FARAHNAKIAN 2018 Synopsis: When Ella Hundsworth walks in her home in a middle of an investigation, she is told that she’s dead. Ella must now find out who the dead girl is. When she goes to see the body, she realizes something that would later change everything. Characters: Ella Hundsworth: A girl who thought she had a pretty normal life until something really big happened Officer Buck: A police officer who tried to solve this mystery Officer Morty: The helper of Officer Buck Coroner: A coroner who examined the dead body Setting: Ella Hunsworth’s house
(Ella enters her house door and sees cops searching her home.) ELLA : Umm… Excuse me what are you all doing in my house, and why are you guys digging through all my belongings? OFFICER BUCK: Who are you, ma’am? ELLA: (starting to become angry) Who am I? I’m Ella Hundsworth, the owner of this house! OFFICER BUCK: (shocked and confused) What… that’s impossible Ella Hundsworth is dead.. (Confused look.) ELLA: What do you… what do you mean? I’m standing right here! Where in the world would you hear such a thing? OFFICER BUCK: We clearly have an issue ma’am. Are you sure you are the same Ella that lives in this very house? ELLA : Of course I’m the same Ella, but I’m definitely not dead! OFFICER BUCK: Well, I don’t know what’s going on, but now I have some questions for you. ELLA: What… I did absolutely nothing wrong! You guys are the ones in my house without my consent! OFFICER MORTY: With a dead body upstairs that carries an Ella Hundsworth I.D., we have every reason to search your home.
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Echoes
Ella: Oh my Gosh I need to know what the heck is going on! One, I’m not dead. Two, I need everyone to get out of my house. Three, I need to speak to whoever is in charge. OFFICER BUCK: Okay no problem… let’s just take a seat so I can ask you some questions and get this all straightened out. (The two cops and Ella take a seat in the living room. He gets out a notepad for questioning and begins the interrogation.) OFFICER BUCK: Okay so you say you are Ella Hundsworth, daughter of Ricky and Beth Hundsworth correct? ELLA: Yes, that’s correct. OFFICER BUCK: It says here Ella Hundsworth was killed at 3:45am early this morning. ELLA: (terrified) Killed? This is a murder? OFFICER BUCK: Yes ma’am. ELLA: Does that make me a suspect? OFFICER BUCK: Not yet. ELLA: (annoyed) Great… officer I haven’t been home since yesterday morning. I was at my boyfriend’s well, now ex-boyfriend’s house and then I went to sleep at one of my friend’s house. OFFICER BUCK: Sorry to hear about the boyfriend. ELLA: Don’t be. It was better that we realized sooner that it wasn’t going to work out. Anyways how did my alleged murder happen? OFFICER BUCK: The body had been tied up and had two stabbed wounds through the heart. ELLA: What?! This is crazy! How would you think it was me? Officer Buck: The body was identified as Ella Hundsworth born May 17, 1993. ELLA: I need some water to cool down. I still can’t figure out why this girl was identified as me. (Officer Buck got Ella a cup of water then resumed the questioning.) OFFICER BUCK: We are just as confused. I have never seen anything like this. ELLA: Do you guys have any leads on who would want to kill Ella.. me.. this girl? OFFICER BUCK: Not yet but we have our best people on it. ELLA : Are these best people the ones who thought I was the one murdered?
Two Thousand and Fifteen
38
Woman of Line
RACHEL ZESERMAN 2016
39
Echoes
OFFICER BUCK: I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk badly about our police force. ELLA: (a little sarcastic) Okay sorry. Umm… this might be a really weird question but can I see the body? OFFICER BUCK: I do not believe anyone has seen the body but the coroner. ELLA: So can I see it? OFFICER BUCK: Truth is I would have to talk to a couple people to see if that is allowed but most likely you will be able to. Which is good because we need to see who this girl is and if you know her, we are going to have a lot of questions. ELLA: If I know her? What do you mean by that? OFFICER BUCK: Let me make a phone call to see if we can go see the body. In the meanwhile, I think we have finished searching the house so we will be on our way. ELLA: Cool… so when do you think we can see the body? OFFICER BUCK: Not sure but we will give you a call later. ELLA: Okay thanks for all the help. OFFICER BUCK: No problem. I’ll talk to you later. (Ella begins to look around her house to see all the mess that has been made.) ELLA: Great this will take me weeks to clean up. (Ella hears the phone ring and picks up the phone.) OFFICER BUCK: Hello this is Officer Buck. ELLA: Oh hi Officer Buck, is there a problem for calling me so soon? OFFICER BUCK: No no problem I just spoke to the coroner and he said we are able to see the body but he has to be present there. ELLA: Okay that’s fine. OFFICER BUCK: So the coroner and I will be by your house tonight to see the body. ELLA: All right sounds good to me. OFFICER BUCK : Great good bye.
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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(Ella hangs up the phone and waits patiently for them to arrive. She hears the door bell ring and opens the door.) OFFICER BUCK: Hello Ms. Hundsworth this is the coroner that examined the body. CORONER: Hello Ms. Hundsworth. Has anyone been upstairs while the body has been there? ELLA: No not that I know of. CORONER: Okay good I will have someone come get the body tomorrow morning. Is that all right? ELLA: Sure I guess. OFFICER BUCK: Are you ready to go upstairs and see the body?
ELLA: Yes CORONER: Then just remember that the body is dead so there is no need to be afraid. Okay? ELLA: Okay (They all walk upstairs to the room with the body.The body is covered up so no one can see it.) CORONER: Okay are you ready? ELLA: Yeah (The coroner begins to lift the cover and all of a sudden, there is a large gasp.) ELLA: Oh my Gosh that’s… that’s… me!
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Echoes
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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Ephemeral AYDEN BOLIN 2016
Like a glass figure sitting on thin ice, It’s fragile. Like a storm that hangs in the air, We cling to a static pulse. We unravel from the seams, And I’m not very good at sewing. We glue the pieces together with water, Hoping something will stick. Your hands seem cold, And I wish I could help. Your heart seems cold. And I wish you could help me. I wish you smiled more, You tend to reveal emptiness. I wish I made you smile, It’s taxing now. And if you were the night, I’d want to be the stars and moon. And if my eyes were kaleidoscopes, You would be the glimmering beads. I don’t want you to say that you’re gone, I grasp at the silhouette you leave. I don’t want to tell myself to move on, I miss when I could taste our bliss. 43
So just stay a little longer. Echoes
Tiger (First Place) HUY TRAN 2016
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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Index Bolin, Ayden 5, 31, 43 Brun, Emily 23, 35 Carlson, Hannah 11, 12, 14, 18 Cartwright, Benjamin 42 Chen, Teresa 28 Chung, Susan 12 Daley, Abbey 8, 32 Dougherty, Jacki 1, 21, 26, 30 Davis, Lily 7 DeVore, Kennedy 27 37, 38, 40, 41 Farahnakian, Mina Garcia, Blanca 4, 9, 13, 16 Liu, Bill 14 Maska, Megan 42 Maska, Melanie 14 Mayer, Sarah 11, 25 McCoy, Mary 6, 20 McCurley, Cathy 26 Melhado, Toni 2, 34 Packebush, Rachel 15,16 Palmer, Rose 9 Parker, Abigail 3, 22, 27 Schrage, Tina 10, 28 St. Clair, Nicole 36 Stacey, Bryonna 19 Steere, Robert 29 Tran, Huy 17,44 Youssef, Malak 21 Zesserman, Rachel 24, 33, 39
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Echoes
Echoes Staff
Faculty Advisor: Amanda Evans
Co-Editors-in-Chief:
Lead Proofreader: Blanca Garcia
Graphic Designer & Webmaster:
Essays:
Editor, Assistant,
Art:
Editors, Assistants,
Malak Youssef & Bree Wiseman
Jacki Dougherty Cathy McCurly
Aaron Merriman Poetry: Editor, Toni Melhado Kennedy DeVore Assistants, Ben Cartwright Jacki Dougherty Abigail Parker & Short Stories: Editor, Ayden Bolin Rachel Zeserman Assistants, Ben Cartwright Makenzie Moore Blanca Garcia Mathilde Istasse
Awards and Recognition
Essays:
First Place: That Moment, Blanca Garcia Runner-up: Heart Over Heels, Tina Schrage
Special Thanks to our judges,
Poetry:
Ms. Julie Barrett - Essays
First Place: Crickets, Toni Melhado Runner-up: Music in Color, Ayden Bolin
Art:
First Place: Tiger, Huy Tran Runner-up: Old Man, Teresa Chen
Short Stories:
First Place: Protector, Blanca Garcia Runner-up: Pirate Boardroom, Abigail Parker
Ms. Monica Pati単o - Poetry Ms. Georgia Andersen - Art Mr. Scott Huggins - Short Stories
Two Thousand and Fifteen
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Congratulations
to the 2014 Echoes staff for receiving a rating of
Excellent
from the National Council of Teachers of English in student literary magazines.
Submissons for the 2016 edition of Echoes can be emailed to: amanda.evans@theindependentschool.com Visit our website at: echoesliterarymagazine.wordpress.com
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Echoes
The Independent School 8317 E. Douglas Wichita, KS 67207 316.686.0152 www.theindependentschool.com