GJHS Art Literary Magazine: Follow the White Rabbit

Follow the White Rabbit GJHS Art Literary Magazine

“We’re all mad here.” - Lewis Carroll 2016

George Jenkins High School 6000 Lakeland Highlands Rd. Polk County Lakeland, FL 33810 863/ 648-3566 1

Letter from the Editor Welcome to the latest issue of the George Jenkins Art Literary Magazine. This magazine would not have been possible without the time and effort of countless individuals. Between our donors, sponsors, and club members who gave their blood, sweat, and tears (Okay, there wasn’t blood or much sweat involved...but there were definitely some tears; paper cuts hurt!), this magazine went from an idea, to a reality.

I want to especially thank Mrs. Holt and the whole creative writing department (Which is literally just her and Mr. Walton) for their continued support and faith. Mrs. Holt approached me with the idea of a literature based club (because I’m a nerd) and asked if I would be interested. I, of course, said yes. After a rocky start, The Literati Club took flight this year. Without her and her crazy ideas, we wouldn’t have the wonderful club I am fortunate to be President of.

This magazine is a compilation of the creative madness that lives in the minds of some of our fellow Eagles and Eagle staff. Without your submissions and possible insanity, this magazine would never have come to be. So thank you, all of you poets, story tellers, and creative geniuses. I am honored to showcase the talent you all possess.

So, enjoy the journey down the rabbit hole and embrace your inner craziness. After all, “we’re all mad here.”

Sincerely, Bailey McArdle Editor in Chief

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About the Theme This addition of GJHS Art Literary Magazine: Follow the White Rabbit is inspired by Lewis Carroll’s novels Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There, originally published in 1865.

The story of young Alice has captivated audiences around the word for over 150 years and has inspired painters, sculptures, musicians and writers because of the unique, fanatical tale that somehow connects to something deeper and more real than a mere fairy tale. Within the pages of Through the Looking Glass, And What Alice Found There, lives the greatest English nonsense poem, “The Jabberwocky.”

The Jabberwocky ‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought— So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.

Jabberwocky by Miranda Morris

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Table of Contents Down the Rabbit Hole

The Pool of Tears

Alice’s Evidence

6 x “A Place Untouched”

x Tyler Adams 7 x “Crushing Curiosity”

x Anna Chirinos 8 x “Language”

x Sydney Kurts 8 x “Words”

x Sarah Gaddy 9 x “Little R.E.D Riding Hood”

x Evan Gadoury 12 x “Wanderlust”

x Sarah Norgard 13 x “Stargazer”

x Jessica Billups 14 x “On a Cold Blustery Day”

x Madelyn Graham 15 x “Home”

x Sarah Renna 16 x “Perpetual Imprints”

x Bailee Wilson 16 x “Amicus (Sonnet 000)”

x Kaitlyn Kelley 17 x “Sir Peacock”

x Tiffany Anglin 17 x “Love is Life”

x Bill Burnett 18 x “Alex’s Adventures in Wonderland”

x Tara Rose Williams

26 x “Keep It Hidden”

x Bailey McArdle 27 x “The Field”

x Lee Wall 27 x “Drowning”

x Veronica Heatherington 28 x “Subterfuge”

x Tayler Brown 29 x “Shush”

x Cristina Lancranjan 31 x “The Box”

x Delaney McCawley 32 x “Future”

x Jacob Herbert 32 x “Dwelling of Seven Pernicious Grievances”

x Charleston Baker 32 x “I Regret It”

x Marissa Corelli 33 x “Little Soldier”

x Katherine McCraney 33 x “Indifferent Intentions”

x Nick Phan 34 x “The Ending”

x Alexis Whaley 37 x “It Was Raining”

x Eric Bright 38 x “The Perfect Mermaid”

xRobert Crotteau 42 x “Kindergartner’s Play-doh”

x Jillian Davis

44 x “Dr. Martin Luther King Essay”

x Dylin Macklin 45 x “Mirror”

x Madison Mears 46 x “Hard Times”

x Dylan Macklin 47 x “The Truth of Islam”

x Tazeen Fatima 49 x “To Be Involved”

x Kimberly Crane 49 x “Millennial”

x Ethan Giddens 50 x “Abuelo”

x Oryana Northup 50 x “Starfruit”

x Smantha Anglero 51 x An Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Day at GJ

x Mrs. Holt’s and Mr. Walton’s Creative

Writing I and the Literati

Staff

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abbit Hol

R Down the

The Poo

l of Tea

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idence

Ev Alice’s

2 x Letter from the Editor 3 x About the Theme 60 x The Literati 61 x Our Sponsers 66 x Special Thanks 67x Index 68 x Colophon

Sign Post by Cristina Lancranjan

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Down the Rabbit Hole...

“The rabbit hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down what seemed to be a very deep well…”

–Lewis Carroll

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A Place Untouched The red sun slips behind the glowing peak The forest grows dark with shadow Some sleep, others prowl The occasional stick snaps, the owl hoots A soft wind floats through the trees All is quiet, all is still.

The bright sun slips up past the cold peak The forest is bathed in sunshine The birds glide through the trees The cascades tumble into the rushing river The river winds through the valley like a snake The pike swim in its coldness.

The trees sway in the wind The squirrels scuttle on their branches The bear catches wriggling trout at the trickling creek.

The mountains are a place untouched.

Tyler Adams 10th Grade

Sunrise/Sunset by Jillian Davis

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Down The Rabbit Hole

Crushing Curiosity I loathe the Voyage of 1492 And the Italian man who was all too curious For it was in his attempt to shrink the route, to shrink the world That he changed mine entirely An ever-present blackness changed to a dynamic blue and green An encompassing nothing transformed into an overwhelming something An escape, now an entrance I loathe the Voyage of 1492 And the Italian man who was all too curious For it was in his attempt to save the world, That he crushed mine entirely A means to another life A highway to heaven or hell A jump, a leap All become just another step I loathe the Voyage of 1492 And the Italian man who was all too curious For it is because of him that I cannot, too, be curious And walk blindly off a flat earth Anna Chirinos 12th Grade

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Language There is a language Like you’ve never heard before That is comprehended by all Blown like a horn.

There is a language That brings hope and power and restores Its song has no boundaries It’s a never ending flow.

There is a language That covers the whole world From the US to Costa Rica to Rwanda Its love pours.

There is a language That has no poverty No stereotypes No hate.

There is a language That has no language No actual words Just faith.

There is a language That is sweeter than candy.

We call it laughter A waterfall of joy.

Words Words race across my skin, Leaving flames in their wake Dark ink dripping from my arms Ever-changing words, rewritten, erased Some leave flames Smoldering Sizzling Fizzling out and leaving burning embers Others leave frost A different type of burn Icy crystals slowly spreading Reaching Freezing everything in their path

Sydney Kurtz 12th Grade

Some words leave crackling sparks Some leave a gentle warmth Some a soft, loving feeling Some cannot be erased Some words run deeper than skin A select few can reach the darkest depths of one’s heart and soul These words become entangled with the soul in an elegant dance And remain forever, Always ready to be recalled To protect from the many burns of the world Sarah Gaddy 11th Grade

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Down The Rabbit Hole

Little R.E.D. Riding Hood

By Evan Gadoury 12th Grade

much longer. He was waiting for me, or rather, A Miss White, An influential dealer who would

After three long years of tracking, inbe able to push his product across the eastern gratiating and staying in that miscreant’s good area. It had taken more effort than I care to graces, my opportunity had finally presented recount to get him to trust me. The hoops I had itself. I would finally be able to take him out, to jump through, the things I had to do that and find out what became of my mother in one I’m not proud of, He was going to pay for all of fell swoop. I don’t expect her to be alive, that them. monstrous, hulk of a man, Wulf would have I had an unmade sure of that. marked vehicle He doesn’t show take me most of mercy, and doesn’t the way, but I’m take prisoners. He’s sure he had surrun his cartel out veillance covering of Ukraine with an the surrounding iron fist. My mother area, so I took a had been tasked to few miles on foot. take him out three The forest was years ago. She failed, dense, without and we haven’t heard any distinguishword from her--Or able paths. If I Wulf-- Since. hadn’t known where I was going

Our entire in advance, I’m family had extenalmost certain sive roots in the I would have G.R.I.M.M. Agency, gotten hopelessdedicated to taking ly lost. When I out extremely high finally arrived at risk targets through the compound, any means necessary.

Newspaper Silhouette by Giselle Godinez A large rectangular We were priceless, yet building, made of expendable. If we were cool gray stone, rather low-key and modest for killed or captured, the nation had full deniabilan evil compound, It was, for the most part, ity. However that meant we operated through unguarded, besides the large antenna on the our own private channels, and our own personal top, typical of a communications jammer. This means, unfettered by politics and treaties. set off alarms in my head loud as gunfire, but I had already come this far, giving up now would

Wulf was currently situated in a satellite be unthinkable. As I approached the door, the warehouse, owned by one of his fronts, but if I lone doorman stopped me. “Wulf has business didn’t act with haste, he wouldn’t be there for

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to attend to in the nearby area, so he’ll only be a moment, Miss White, Come this way, and I’ll get you situated.” As he ushered in me in, I noticed an abundance of surveillance cameras, both on the exterior and interior of the complex, It seems I was right to be cautious. I realized all too late that my attention had been taken off the doorman for a second too long, and felt a cool cylinder pressed against my back “Sorry Miss White, but I’ve got orders.” My mind raced as I played different scenarios in my head, attempting to find any way to get out of this without a new piercing. It was then when I heard an electronic whirring noise, starting behind my head, and moving down my body, Intensifying around my hip. “Yeah, had a feeling. You dealer types are all the same.

No trust.” I sighed in relief, and allowed myself to be disarmed, of that weapon at least. I smiled and shrugged to ease the doorman’s possible suspicions, and allowed myself to be led to, what I imagine was some form of conference room. It had no windows, and only a single door. The entire design of the compound was very minimalistic, however this took it to a new level. All that lay in this room was a simple desk, and a chair on either side. The room felt claustrophobic, but I shook it off, and took a seat in the chair closest to me, hoping I wouldn’t somehow offend the man by taking his seat. These ringleader types had a tendency to be as touchy as teenage girls.

As I was waiting, I felt a sudden buzzing at the hip, opposite of my,now empty, holster. I was confused, my commlink shouldn’t work in here, the jammer would only allow people inside to contact people inside, and vice versa, and the only people that could contact the device itself were people who had it’s frequency, that is, other agents. I looked around, and noticed something strange. In this room in particular, there were seemingly no cameras, no obvious ones at least.

My curiosity was in a desperate struggle with my better judgment, and it was clawing it’s way to the top. I couldn’t stop myself, I opened the comm, and very nearly dropped it when I saw the ID Registry number staring back at me. It was my mother’s, Agent Blue.

I didn’t know how to process this, my hands were shaking like Mike Tyson in a spelling bee, and my mind was racing at a pace the rest

of me couldn’t keep up with. I attempted to rationalize it out that someone just happened to have my mother’s comm device, but that was all thrown out the window when I heard her voice.

“This is Agent Blue of G.R.I.M.M. Is anyone receiving?” The voice was almost indistinguishable, covered in a thick layer of static and interference, but it had to be her, who else would it be anyway? Years of training were thrown out of the window. I pulled the comm device up to my face in blind, hopeful panic “This is Agent Red, Moth, Agent Blue, are you there?” I asked, steeling myself so that my voice wouldn’t waver more than it was. “Oh god, finally someone came. Listen, they’ve had me in this warehouse for years now, but they didn’t bother to take away my comm because of the jammer, please, you have to get me out! I’m all the way down the hall. Please hurry.” From the little she could gather from her voice, hidden by interference and static, she was weak, and even simple sentences were a considerable effort for her. I had forgotten the mission in it’s entirety at this point. All that mattered to me, was getting my mother back. I blew through the doors, and sprinted down the hall like a bat out of hell, smashing through the worldly gates, and coming to a slow stop after breaching them. The room was dark, however, I could see a silhouette chained to the wall, tall and thin, It had to be my mother. I ran to the wall, shouting to get her attention. However, when I got close enough to confirm what I was looking at, my heart sank. It was a large, adult-sized sack, with sharp objects protruding from the bottom. I was confused for just a second too long, and I heard a muffled beeping. As the realization sunk in, I raised my arms over my face and neck. the bag detonated, leaving the shrapnel to shred me, and I’m sure it would have been fatal had I not raised my arms in time. The blast knocked me off my feet, and had embedded the assorted shrapnel into my arms and legs. I lay on the ground for a few seconds, dazed and wounded, gathering the strength to pull myself to my feet. It was at this time, I heard a heavily accented laugh, as the lights, all clicked on at once, creating a blinding symphony of fluorescence, revealing a balcony outcropping from the second floor, and standing upon it, was Wulf, the mastermind behind

“Sorry Miss White, but I’ve got orders.”

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Down The Rabbit Hole

these sick head games. “You shouldn’t be so quick to trust what you see in this world” he said, a smirk creeping across his face, as he leveled his hunting rifle, the same weapon he used in many of his excursions, and prepared to punish my naive mistakes in the harshest way possible. He pulled back the bolt and let out a sigh, dripping with sarcasm. “Well, I guess one out of two ain’t bad.” and fired the rifle, aimed squarely at my forehead. The bullet would have absolutely met it’s mark if Wulf hadn’t been tackled and knocked off balance.

Nevertheless, I felt a sharp pain in my leg, as I gradually began to lose any ability to move it. His shot had missed, but it had hit the target. I watched the two men wrestled on the balcony, just out of sight, helpless. I couldn’t stand, or get a clear shot on either of them. After a few seconds of struggling, I watched Wulf be thrown against the railing of the balcony, and a Cutlass Handgun pointed out of the dark at the groggy ringleader. There was a bang, and a flash, and Wulf tumbled down the balcony, onto the floor in front of me. I was shaken.

Would whoever come to silence Wulf, be coming for me next? Was I prepared for a situation like that? I didn’t have time to think however, because the gun was soon accompanied by the shooter, a large man, who I recognized from earlier today. “You, You’re the doorman! But why? Why would you..” The man sighed and rolled his eyes.

“You really are clueless, aren’t you Red.” he said, not bothering to disguise his condescending tone. “HQ felt like you’d have a conflict of interest on this mission, so they sent me as backup. I’m Jack. Codename, Lumberjack.” I looked up astonished. How did I do so wrong that I warranted being babysat? However the answer was sitting right behind me. I had been naive. I had let my emotions cloud my judgment. I vowed to never let it happen again. I would avenge my mother in a way that she’d be proud of.

End.

Whimsy by Maria Chencinski

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Wanderlust As I think, enticing images flood my mind But I try to write and the thoughts float away As if nothing I can express is as alluring as this imagination But isn’t that how life itself seems to carry out?

We create an image of something for it to never become a reality We create lives of “what if ” and “I want” and “I should have” and “I wish” We create the idea of some flawless life Yet we never live this perfect life But me?

I am a destined wanderer on a journey to fulfillment Much like Robert Frost, taking “the road less traveled” In search of an exquisite actuality Creating a life absent of pictures And full of memory Traveling the world a thousand times over Turning expectation into existence Advantaging from the privilege that is life of which I have been graced Learning from the greatest teacher of all: Experience.

Sarah Norgard 12th Grade Babbling Creek by Jillian Davis

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Down The Rabbit Hole

Stargazer The stars shine above; Heaven reveals a glimpse of her majesty.

Constellations in the vast night sky: Perseus, Scorpius, Aquarius, Give onlookers time to reflect.

Whoosh, a gust of wind blows.

Fog is rolling in.

Still Heaven’s beauty twinkles Amidst the stygian background.

We are consumed by darkness, But our eyes find the light.

Dots on a canvas Turn into glorious forms.

In a moment they will be gone, As sure as time ticks on.

Still now we watch With the uncertainty Of an endless eternity.

Curiosity by Tayler Brown

Jessica Billups 12th Grade

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On a Cold Blustery Day On a cold, blustery day, Wouldn’t you prefer to stay In your room, burrowed up?

Green, herbal tea in a white teacup, Eyeglasses in place, bookmark removed, Admirable, exquisite words tattooed On ivory parchment, consciously drafted, Developed to deliver you to a place in your mind Where you can successfully escape from all mankind, Absentmindedly losing yourself in an ocean, Of thoughts, with a false notion That you will not become obsessed With whichever book you choose to possess.

Madelyn Graham 10th Grade

Untitled #1 by Kimberly Cravens

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Down The Rabbit Hole

Pensive by Jillian Davis

Home Home is a place of permanent residence.

Home is consistency, stability, peace.

To be welcome, to have been welcomed, to always be welcomed; that is home.

Unfortunate are those ignorant to such luxuries.

Home knows not of change, uncertainty, unrest.

Am I then deemed homeless?

My once “forever” home had white walls.

Vast canvases for the time I wanted to be an artist when I grew up.

Hidden under pictures for when my permanent marker masterpieces went unappreciated.

My once “forever” home had an older brother and sister.

Bruises and fights over the times I called my sister names.

Heartache the day they moved out and left me alone.

My once “forever” home is no longer mine.

My old home is a forever home to a new artist and a new brother and a new sister.

They don’t know that the best spot to put a Christmas tree was right next to the T.V. in the living room in front of the window because you could see the lights from the street.

They don’t know that my best friend lived in the yellow house two doors down that they drive by without a second glance.

Home must be redefined for those uprooted of their consistencies.

Whose white walls have been painted over.

Sarah Renna 12th Grade

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Perpetual Imprints I have been chased by a dragon on a fiery, devilish broom countless times.

I have fought the outlandish, alien hosts that were peculiarly peaceful.

I have even led a rebellion against an unlawful government’s crimes.

Nonetheless, my most grand adventures stem from a single novel.

This special volume is irrevocably filled to the brim with love.

In this ancient text with stories of triumph, bravery, and squabbles.

It’s onyx words are tattoos on the fabric of my very labyrinthine mind.

The crisp binding is the skin that keeps me from falling apart invariably.

The book’s delicate, silvery pages have relieved all who are blind.

Authors far and wide have strived to reach coveted immortality.

Writers long to have their words written in stone.

There is but one scripture, yet that is used by every single nationality.

The Holy Bible is an extraordinary, eloquent, and exquisite piece of artwork.

Carved from the boundless stories of the diligent disciples.

The exploits and grace that surround my being is all due to His handiwork.

Bailee Wilson 9th Grade

Amicus (Sonnet 000) Many minds invade areas forsaken Hearts seek emotion; spirits never told With desire of light but knowledge achin’ One omits hope yet small actions behold An outlet for darkness; escape from hell What could possibly rid bodies of misery?

Within a destructive world, out of the cell Amicus*, possessing his own history Awarding life with a single gesture Abandonment is now abolished Colour reaching out, no room for pester Rebirth has begun, it is not finished Love is gentle, love is understanding Death haunts, life awaits, amicus* standing Kaitlyn Kelley 10th Grade

*Amicus (n.) is the Latin word meaning “a friend.”

Untitled #2 by Kimberly Cravens

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Sir Peacock How beautiful, how elusive, majestic is he Regal with plumes of bright blue, gold, and green He glides through the garden all splendid and free We wait unblinking to see As his royal tail fans out he’s a stunning beauty He parades and he flirts for all those to see The beautiful peacock astonishing me Tiffany Anglin 9th Grade

Untitled #3 by Kimberly Cravens

Love is Life Love is Life, Truth is Pain, Hate is Hell.

Something only a Clear mind knows.

Bill Burnett 11th Grade 17

Down The Rabbit Hole

Alex’s Adventure’s in Wonderland Tara Rose Williams 10th Grade

I stand in New York City on a summer afternoon, in the middle of Central Park. Thank God it’s not busy with so many people left and right, up and down. I can finally take a breather and not be bothered by any gossiping teens, elderly people, screeching kids, pooping birds,…. I walk to the nearest empty and unbroken wooden bench, place my bottom down and claim this seat as my throne of awesomeness for the day. Yes~ It’s an average summer day, I sit alone by myself on the wooden bench. I spread my whole self on this stiff bed as my body adjusts to the new position that I place it in. I hold my small bag and slide today’s newspaper out of the bag and into my hands and start reading ‘New Bakery Opens Today on September 3rd, 2016’. “Ugh, are you kidding me? Another stupid ad?!” I yell, as I toss the whole clump of papers into the nearest trash bin. I sat back down, placed the bag under my head and closed my eyes for a nap. Suddenly, I noticed a man about the age of 23 years old with short white hair, a black tuxedo with butt shorts, light green eyes and long white bunny ears. “Man, what did I smoke last night?’ I thought to myself as I looked at the frantic man. I take another glance and see a shiny metallic golden Iphone 6+ fall out of his back pocket. I run over to grab it and chase after him, hoping I can catch the stranger in time.

I chased the speedy character as fast as I could “I wonder if he’s late or some crap like that,” I thought to myself as I lose him in the crowd of tourists and local idiots who don’t know a thing about this city and its tall grey buildings, restaurants and cafes. I started shoving my way through the crowd and eventually I see him and eventually catch up to him.

I run down the stairs and accidently fall into the this strangely dressed man, “What the . . ?!” We unanimously yelled in shock as we both fell to the hard cemented floor of the subway. He stands up and dusts himself off. “You have to be more careful man,” the white haired guy says to me as he stares at me. He looks at his wristwatch, “Aw carrots, I’m so late! She’s going to murder me if I don’t get back to her soon!” He sighed in depression and worry as the train arrived while holding what looked like a jewelry bag. I suddenly realized that his phone was still with me. “Wait!” I yelled as I grasp the man’s hand, “What is it? Did I forget to say thanks or something?” The man turns his head to me, staring at me, his lime green eyes, his pearl white hair, my face turns into a light shade of pink as my pacific blue eyes meets his gaze. “I’m no twinky, but this “dude” brought sexy to a whole new world!” I thought to myself before I suddenly realize the reason I grabbed his attention in the first place. Realizing I was being an idiot and wasting his time, “I-I’m sorry, you dropped your phone.” I quickly grab the object out of my pocket and hand it to him.

“Thanks?” He stared at me awkwardly and confused before he snatched up his possessions and ran to his train. Curious of his motives I quickly and sneakily followed him into the train that he and multiple other people crowded onto. Not that I’m a creep, just a dude with no life or home, and plus I could get a free and sexy boyfriend.

As I looked around, I realized that suddenly everyone was different. And when I mean different, I mean “not human.”

For example, there was a caterpillar smoking a pipe, a depressed turtle, and a girl had long neon pink hair and purple cat ears, along with Amber-colored eyes.

“Hey Chess, how’s your day?” The rabbit asked as he finally broke the awkward silence that had spread on the train.

“Good, you?” The cat replied as she flipped the bangs from her face. “Meh, alright. Some random blonde haired dude about college-aged looked at me funny, apparently I lost my phone and he gave it back, he must’ve liked me or something because he blushed at me.” The girl snickered and looked out the window. She looked back at him, “But we all know who you’re really meant for!” The girl giggled as she winked, her face turning completely red as she held her hand covered with a paw-like glove, trying not to laugh so hard. The rabbit turned red with embarrassment, “I do not like her!” The rabbit soon turned into a pink pouting bunny attempting to hide his true emotions. He attempted to open his mouth but the girl soon grabbed his tongue. “Cat got your tongue?” she asked as she held it in her little grasp, he quickly pulled it out of her paw with a pained yell as he closed his mouth and turned to the side - he was ticked. Trying to transition the conversation to another topic he spoke. “Anyways, I just realized that the blonde-haired dude looked similar to Alex.” The girl opened her mouth in shock, “Alex? Alex, the first human boy who came to Wonderland? His golden blonde hair, the pacific blue eyes? With that little eight year old voice that was really high pitched and annoy18

Down The Rabbit Hole ing?” The rabbit looked at her and nodded a simple yes. I looked over at the two, spooked by hearing my name being called. “Now arriving to Wonderland.” A monotone and almost robotic voice speaks through the intercom. “Well, I’m off here!” the rabbit said as he left the train one way. “See you later!” the pink-haired girl said as she went another. I quickly grab my bag as I leave following the rabbit’s direction.

‘I’m so shocked that he hasn’t noticed me yet.’ I thought as I enter the new bright and vivid scene. I approach a luscious garden full of different colored roses. A stone-like path trailed along eventually leading to a black iron gate with swirled patterns surrounded by a red brick wall. The rabbit sprinted along the trail, entering the open pathway to what was known as Wonderland, the gift in hand.

As I quickly pursued the white haired man, his legs started turning long and cotton white, a rabbit-like tail popped from his lower back, his eye color changed from the lime green into a neon red. He became smaller morphing into a regular bunny size and eventually completely transformed into a White Rabbit.

The bag and gift adjusted to the size needed for easier carryon items for this journey. I keep running after him but eventually, I cracked my head onto a tree branch, and I lost sight of the rabbit. “Christ, I am old or something if I can’t catch this rabbit.” I sigh as I sit on a mushroom and stare into the woods. “Ugh” I groaned while rubbing my injured forehead. Begrudgingly, I pushed myself off the mushroom, and started walking towards the path onto which the White Rabbit hopped off.

I keep searching through the woods, becoming lost. I come across a huge Banyan tree, a voice is heard singing a familiar tune. “London Bridge is falling down Falling down, falling down. London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady.” The voice giggled as a smile appears, then eyes, and eventually the whole body appeared. The same girl from before appeared in front of my face. ‘I-it’s her! That one girl who knew my name,’ I thought to myself as I noticed the same pink hair, purple hair, and amber-colored eyes that danced back and forth while the body was lounging on the branch.

“Something you need?” She asked as she twirled her hair and curled her neon pink and lavender purple tail, she sat up adjusting her orchid pink miniskirt and Eminence purple tank top.

I stared at this chick for a while - she was attractive. Noticing her question was unanswered, she started fading away to whatever land she was in. I finally stuttered “Wait! I need to go somewhere and I need your help on where to go.” She smiled, “Well, that depends on where you want to go, my love!” She smiled at me, waiting for a more specific answer.

She jumped from her tree and walked towards me, stroking my face while passing me, she wrapped her tail around me and placed her nose on mine. “And, if you want to know.” She paused, lifted her face from mine, and pointed right. “He went that way!” She said as she walked over to a sign with the words ‘Mad Hattress’ written onto it. “Wait, who?” The girl responded “Well, the White Rabbit of course!” She said while grinning. “He did?” I replied “He did what?” The girl asked, I responded thinking she had short memory issues. “Went the way you’re standing.”

I stared at this chick for a while - she was attractive. Noticing her question was unanswered, she started fading away to whatever land she was in. I finally stuttered “Wait! I need to go somewhere and I need your help on where to go.” She smiled, “Well, that depends on where you want to go, my love!” She smiled at me, waiting for a more specific answer.

She jumped from her tree and walked towards me, stroking my face while passing me, she wrapped her tail around me and placed her nose on mine. “And, if you want to know.” She paused, lifted her face from mine, and pointed right. “He went that way!” She said as she walked over to a sign with the words ‘Mad Hattress’ written onto it. “Wait, who?” The girl responded “Well, the White Rabbit of course!” She said while grinning. “He did?” I replied “He did what?” The girl asked, I responded thinking she had short memory issues. “Went the way you’re standing.”

She giggled “Who did?” I sighed at her joke but played along “The White Rabbit?” “What rabbit?” I sighed and gave up. She chortled at what she thought was my stupidity, “Well, if I were looking for the White Rabbit, I’d go the way I was standing at a few seconds ago. There is a woman named ‘the Mad Hattress’. ” I was confused, “Wait, so you want me to get advice from a psycho?” She scoffed and replied while glancing at me with dag19

Looking Glass by Cristina Lancranjan

20

Down The Rabbit Hole

21

ger-like eyes “No, not a psycho. She’s just, well. Mad! A little away with the fairies? Either way, she is still a better advice giver than the May Hare. She may seem calm, but she acts like a blonde! About May, rumor has it the White Rabbit has, let’s say, certain emotions for her.” She winked, “You best be on your way! As I must depart too!” She snickered and faded away. I started heading my way to the possibly demented woman.

As I kept walking through the forest on the path leading towards where the Hattress lived, I noticed the man with the same snow white hair and pearl colored skin, his dark pastel green eyes glanced around as he looked at his metallic golden wristwatch, “Well, she’s not an early bloomer either.” He muttered to himself while looking around. He then glances back my way and I ran to the closest tree and hid behind it attempting to shelter myself. I eventually hear footsteps running, hitting the carpet like grass. “I’m so sorry Whitey.” A girl arrives, she was short with light brown hair, dark chocolate colored ears, lavender eyes, tan skin, and wearing an Amaranth pink dress with black ballet flats. Because of the brown ears, I assumed she was the hare that the cat was telling me about. “You’re fine May.” The man sighed in relief knowing the girl was going to arrive one way or another. He held the bag in his hand, “Um May?” The man asked while blushing a light shade of baby pink. The girl stepped back, “Yes Whitey?” the girl asked wondering what was going on.

“I wanted to tell you that. I have something I want to tell you, the truth.” Wondering what was going on, May responded, “The truth?” The rabbit’s face color transitioned from a baby pink into a dark red. “Well the truth is, I love you. I don’t care if you like someone else, I don’t care about him or her. Just please remember, I still love you and if it means anything to you anymore, I’ll be here.” He hung his head down, nervously waiting for a response.

The girl stared at him, expressionless. “Whitey, I know you’re~” The Hare paused, tears started to roll out of her eyes, staining her face. “I know that you plan to take over the kingdom of Wonderland and overthrow the King of Hearts. I can’t marry someone that will possibly die from their secrets and actions. Maybe if you didn’t want to do that, I would go out with you and maybe even marry you in a day. Either way, I still. . .” She stopped speaking, then continued. “I can’t let you do this. Whitey, please. Abandon this stupid plan and come live with me.” She looked up at him. “Please.

Do this for me if not for yourself.” The rabbit turned pale.

“I’m sorry May, I can’t do that. I have to overthrow the king and make sure that both he and his terrible rules and discipline are gone. All gone May, I have to do this for the safety of all of Wonderland. And if I don’t, every single one of us is screwed unless Alex comes back and it’s never going to happen because he is a mortal human and he will be recognized by the king, regardless of his age. He will be killed, so someone has to do this for him. And since nobody will step up to the plate, I’ll do it myself.” He pulls a sword out of a black leather sheath onto his belt yelling “Down with the king, Wonderland is tired and sick of this dishonor, unfair trials and judgement, and the arrogant King of Hearts! I will take this man down and out of the throne and make Wonderland mine or a better person’s rule! This will happen!” He shoves the sword back into his sheath, transforms back into his rabbit-like form, and runs away to a different path. The Hare hung her head down. “This idiot is screwed.” The girl muttered before turning into a hare and hopped the opposite direction.

‘Take over Wonderland? What’s he smoking again?’ I wondered to myself as I walk from the tree and continue walking down the path leading to the Hattress, desperate to know what she would say about all of this.

I eventually arrive to the new setting of the Mad Hattress, loads of tea cups, broken china, and silverware decorated the dirt floor being topped with a stone table with a huge white cake with the words ‘Happy Unbirthday Alex!’ I saw a short and pale woman with a lime green dress only reaching past her thighs just above her knees. Her oceanic blue eyes fell upon my face as her whole body twirled to face me. Her bright orange Merida-like hair bounced along to the swirling woman with a teal hat perched upon top of her head. “Alex, my dear! We’ve been waiting for you! Except for the Hare, she’s always our late bloomer to the party. Hehe~” “Tch, I bet she’s with her stupid boyfriend again.” A girl resembling a mouse groaned as she stood up from her seat. Her short chocolate brown hair followed along to the flow of her pearl white dress which was covered by a black short biker jacket that barely reached down to her stomach. Sporting a brown top hat in between her black ears, her hazel brown eyes stared at me, clicks of her rose quartz colored boots could be heard. She stopped while pulling out a chair for me. “I’m good, thanks.” I replied, politely declining the offer. She stared 22

Down The Rabbit Hole at me, placing a hand on her hip, “it’s your Unbirthday, you can’t just simply deny that Alex my dear!” She ran towards me, pulling me to the chair. While shorter than me, she was definitely stronger than I was. She dropped me into the wooden seat. “Tea, Alex?” The Hattress chortled while placing a cup and pouring peppermint tea into it. “I guess I could stay a while. I want to ask you some things anyways.”

The woman glanced at me then smiled while sipping her tea. “What do you mean by some things?”

She looked at me, placing her cup down and reaching for a cake knife while holding a plate, slicing the decorative and edible sponge while taking a piece for herself. I responded “Well, this rabbit wants to take over Wonderland.” The woman paused, holding her plate. “What?” She looked at me. “He wants to do what?” she turned a ghost like pale. “Why would someone want to do that? Wonderland is amazing the way it is. Why would an idiot like him want to take over this dreamlike world?” Unable to find a reason, I was unable to respond, which was the best idea anyways. She stood up, “Doormouse, this party is over for today. Stay and clean up. Alex, please do me a favor and do your best to try and leave Wonderland, it would be for the best.” She looked at me, “you won’t survive for long if you stay here.” She paused then continued, “I think there is a 5 o’clock train on its way back to your world. Its 12 pm right now, you should get there in plenty of time.”

She handed me a ticket. She looked at me. “Please try not to come back, I understand why you didn’t listen when you were younger. If it weren’t for me, you would’ve died.”

“If it weren’t for me, you would’ve died.”

A tear dropped from her eye. “Hurry.” I ran away from the setting filled with confusion. ‘What’s even going on here?’ my thoughts raced in my head, wondering why the woman didn’t even give me directions. I threw myself to the ground, “where’s that cat when you need her?” I screeched in the woods for help, eventually becoming so stressed that I lost conscious.

Footsteps are heard, “Oh my! Poor Alex!” the pink haired girl looked down at me again, “The last time when you were younger, you got lost then you pouted and cried now you passed out? Jeez boy. Humans are so strange.” I looked up at her. “Why didn’t you help me earlier?” She offered her paw and giggled. “You’re cute when you’re mad!” I stood up and shot her a look. “Hey! How about I lead you to the king? He’ll know what to do! I’m sure he’ll get you home.” We both walk through a trail leading to a hedge maze. “Ok Alex, it’s you from here on out, my boy! I’m gonna watch some good drama and maybe add in my two cents.” She laughed and faded away.

I walk through the garden-like labyrinth and arrive to a huge kingdom, a white and red complex with multiple rooms and buildings. As I enter the kingdom itself, I see a man in a dark red cape, black tuxedo, and purple top hat, with a red heart painted under his diamond silver eyes. He glanced at me with a stern look. “Who are you and why are you here in my kingdom?” I turn pale, “My name is Alex sir, Alex Kingsley.” The man stood from his throne. “Alex Kingsley? The Alex who invaded our land and almost destroyed all of Wonderland’s order and discipline?! Why have you come back here after I banned you from Wonderland multiple years ago?” His face transitioned into a bright tomato red. “Hattress!

Bring me my axe! All guards hold this man down, he won’t escape this time.” Men from all over the room surrounded me, they were dressed like card soldiers. In the middle of an enclosing circle, soldiers surround me, spears pointed at me.

Two guards ran and shoved me to the floor, my whole body hit the ground. I look up and notice the Hattress holding an axe, her head held down, the light green dress she had been wearing was replaced by a pitch black long dress, and she no longer had a bright smile on her face. Instead, tears rolled down her face in desperation. She looked up at me, “Alex, why didn’t you listen to me?” She reluctantly handed the blood stained weapon to the King. He approached me, holding the tool that would end my life. I close my eyes, knowing at this moment, I screwed up.

“Stop this now!” a voice shrieked from behind the King. Running with a sword, a man covered in a black cloak headed toward the King. The cloak fell off. It was the White Rabbit. Brandishing his sword, he yelled, “Wonderland is sick and tired of your strict rules, unfair trials, and cruel punishments! I will take you off your throne, dead or alive.” He 23

looked at me and noticed I was the same person that encountered him. He dropped his sword down by his side. “Why . . .” he looked back at the King. “Why are you trying to kill a human? He is most likely important in the real world!” The King started walking over to the rabbit while holding the axe. “You insolent fool! How dare you even attempt to look at my face with this stupid and foolish game of yours?!” Whitey placed the sword back into his sheath and looked at the man approaching him. His forest green eyes were covered by his pearl white hair as he held his face down. The King, noticing his opponent actions, lowered his weapon.

He put his axe down and traded it for a sword from the nearest solider. “Alright rabbit, I’ll play your foolish game. But there is a catch to this. We’ll have a duel. if you win, you get Wonderland and you may do whatever you wish with Alex.

But if you lose, both Alex and you die. Understand? No you don’t? Good. Then I’ll have the upper hand.” He held his sword out. “Let’s start, I don’t have all day.” The King grinned with a sneer. The King’s silver eyes met the rabbit’s green eyes. They lifted their swords and began dueling. The first move was made by the King. He swung for the rabbit’s neck, and the rabbit quickly blocked by shoving the King’s sword to the side with his own.

He advanced towards the King, pulled his sword from behind his back and thrusted it, aiming toward the King’s heart, but being shoved by a guard. His only aide wrenched away from his grip and to the ground. He lost his balance and rolled onto the floor. He stretched out for the weapon only to have his forearm stepped on by the King’s hand. He stared at the thin sword with the reflection of his eyes showing on the sword, his pupils became smaller and smaller as the blade ran up his back to the very start of his neck. “It’s too bad that you have to die over something so stupid. I liked you, you were so foolish and obvious in your love for the May Hare. I think I may kill her off too. It would depress her when she figures out that you’re dead. She probably wouldn’t want to live anyways.” He howled with laughter while raising the sword’s point so high and stomping on the rabbit’s back. A pained yell leaves the rabbit’s mouth as a crack is heard throughout the whole room. “Stop! Why do you want to torture the residents of Wonderland? Your highness, please cease these terrible actions for the safety of us all.” The Hattress held the blood-stained axe in her hands. The king turned towards her. “I’m sorry.” The voice apologized before swinging the axe into the King’s stomach, piercing it. The sword fell to the side, the rabbit rolled to escape the falling body. His back was possibly broken so he lied on the ground gasping for air, hoping that his crushed spine and ribs wouldn’t cut off his oxygen, suffocating him. He held his stomach, then looked over at the woman. “Are you crazy?” the woman looked at the rabbit expressionless as blood started to pour from the King’s deceased body, painting the whiter tile floor with the color of crimson red.

“Let Alex go.” The Hattress dismissed the guards. I stood up and adjusted my yellow-blond hair. “Well, what’s going to happen?” The Hattress looked at me with daggers pointing out of her eyes. “Why wouldn’t you listen to me? You could’ve been killed, Alex!” She sighed, “And now you missed the train back home until tomorrow. Honestly, I don’t understand you sometimes.” She looked at the White Rabbit, “Either way, you, unfortunately, don’t become the ruler just yet. You are next in line after me. But since I don’t want to run Wonderland, I’ll let you rule.” She walked over and took the King’s lifeless hand, and slipped the ring from his finger. She walked back to the rabbit, took his hand, and placed it onto his finger. “This ring is a symbol of you being the King. If you die or quit for some odd reason, you lose the ring to a new ruler.” Then she took off a ring from her own finger and placed into the rabbit’s hand. “This one is for your friend or disciplinary officer. Be careful. You can’t have both, you can have either or.” The rabbit asked her, “Which one were you? Friend or main guard?” The Hattress looked up at him. “All you need to know is that you are the new ruler of Wonderland.” She then looked towards me.

“Alex, you need to get back to your world. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to make that happen. Maybe the Cheshire Cat can lead you back to your world or at least the train station. It was fun having you here. Please do come back.” She looked down. The rabbit added “Sorry buddy, you have to go.”

All of a sudden, the scene faded. I feel someone shaking me, I sat up. “What?” A man is facing me in a security outfit, “Sorry for waking you dude, but the park closed a few hours ago.” Glowing lights filled the air as the starry sky stared down at me. “Sorry about that man.” I stood up from the bench, grabbed my bag that now contained nothing and took the route towards the park exit and left, wondering how I fell asleep in the first place. End. 24

Pool of Tears...

Tears by Destiny Lewis

“How doth the little crocodile, Improve his shining tail, And pour the waters of the Nile On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seemed to grin, How neatly spread his claws, And welcomes little fishes in, With gently smiling jaws!”

– Lewis Carroll

25

Keep It Hidden

Down, In the deepest cavern, Of my chambered soul, She sleeps.

You will not find Her In history books, No.

She is unheard of, Unnamed.

She slumbers in my chest, Subdued, for now.

But there are days I feel Her, Stirring.

She gnaws at me, Growling, gnashing her teeth.

She aches to sink her claws Into something other than her cavern walls.

Dark Jabberwocky by Mrianda Morris

On those days, I wage a war.

A war saved behind blue eyes tinged red.

Bailey McArdle 11th Grade 26

We fight for dominance.

I fear the day I will lose.

And She will be released.

Pool of Tears

The Field

Drowning

A cold winter wind in the dead of the night Brushes my skin while the fog rolls in Grey curtains closing, there’s nothing in sight Nightfall has come to freeze me again To steal my breath under tangled drapes And bury me inside a casket of snow.

If I let the blizzards make me afraid I’ll rest with summer flowers below, But over the horizon the sun floats into the sky Lifting these curtains so there’s no darkness in mind I look to the woods for wolves angry and growling, But there are no such fearsome creatures prowling Just a lush field ahead full of daisies Exotic flowers of every kind As if I’ve walked into a world of fairies Where all experience is now aligned.

Winter gone I saw only the fields Blades of grass and vibrant colors Perhaps this was life’s big reveal.

Should I return I must tell the others Rocks eroding with the passing of time The soft red glow of the setting sun Still we search for reason or rhyme But not until we’re dead are we done.

Their screams don’t have to be loud, In fact the silence is more deafening.

Tight-lipped glares unveil the resentment, Emotions stripped bare and laid publicly.

Unlike the façade of pseudo smiles, Their relationship is irrevocably fragmented.

Treasured memories are evaded, It’s apparent they are shattered, broken.

Like a ship in cannibalistic waters, They don’t have a fighting chance.

Veronica Heatherington 10th Grade

Lee Wall 12th Grade

Untitled #4 by Kimberly Cravens

27

Subterfuge Mouth full of white lies, Sliding off your tongue so languidly; Pretending as though you were a Scarlet Kingsnake, When in reality, you are the Eastern Coral.

Never to stop yourself; This is who you are.

Backstabbing and biting.

Don’t get too close.

Deceit; your unseen weapon.

Blinded by desires, Your corporeal commonality, Belied all I’ve known.

Sickly sweet, sinful smiles Thrown this way and that.

Covering your true intentions Behind scales of red, black, and yellow.

Slow and deliberate; Striking down any obstacle.

Superfluous, the last second before the inevitable; Stagely, how you dispatched of the victim.

Perishing in the venom.

Tayler Brown 9th Grade

Deception by Tayler Brown

28

Pool of Tears Shush by Cristina Lancranjan

The body curled in further, patches of black already swinging down to cover the eyes. Kathrine sighed. “No luck today either,” she murmured, her eyes dimming as she glanced down at her child of seven. She reached down to pat his hair. Told him it was okay.

“Not even a word?” Grier wondered aloud, slipping off his gardening gloves and moving his eyes from the boy towards the young faced brunette. She was a misfortunate mother, he thought. In a compact community like that, news traveled in matter of hours—reason why curtains were almost always drawn. Kathrine tried hard as a mother but as years passed, so did hope. Hospital trips became a monthly habit only for the couple to come back home, Kathrine in tears. It was only five months ago that they decided they’d adopt. He wondered why they had gotten the boy instead of a newborn. Katherine was still rather young after all.

“Want to say hello to Mr. Grier, Leslie? Say hello, Mr. Grier,” Kathrine cooed. A gentle

Cristina Lancranjan 12th Grade

“Good morning Kathrine,” Mr. Grier chimed from his bushel, the loud buzz of his lawn trimmer dying down. The woman glanced over and a smile peeked at the corner of her lips. She adjusted her purse with one hand while the other was gripped by a smaller fist. It balled tighter at the sound of the older man, a pitter patter of new sneakers dragging closer to Kathrine.

“Morning, Mr. Grier. You never rest do you?” The woman chuckled. He was often found working in his yard; from dawn to dusk his hands constantly moved to pluck weeds and mulch one patch or another.

Grier smiled in response and shrugged, “greenest yard in the neighborhood, I tell ya,” he beamed. As he rose, he caught a glance of a sagging body curling against Kathrine’s leg, hugging her at the waist. “Hey Leslie. Headin’ out with your ma?”

29

breeze sent another scatter of autumn on the lawn.

Grier sighed.

“Did the doctors tell ya anything?”

“They said it might be something with anxiety. New environment, new people,” her voice trailed. “Lots of new. We just have to give him time. Steve’s going to build him a swing set in the back like the one at the orphanage.”

Grier tried to hide the look of pity before Kathrine could see, nodding slightly, “well, my prayers are with your family. Leslie, you have a good day now, alright?” he waved. The conversation had become too somber already so he turned in order to make his escape. Kathrine watched the man for a few moments while he left, the occasional car brushing up several more leaves on the lawn.

--Leslie walked with hurried steps back to his room after coming home from the store. His heart hammered. So many people. Silhouetted faces grinning, waving, exposing their grimy, jagged teeth. A voice constantly pecking at his ear, coaxing him into using his dried voice to greet them. Leslie’s cheeks flushed and he plopped on the bed, glaring through the tears. He curled in further, shifting on the bed and biting his lip to cease any whimpering. He remained that way for a while. A few hours passed while he dozed in and out of sleep before a knock on his door jolted him. His eyes snapped and gleamed towards the entrance. Katherine opened it and looked inside, her gaze soft and warm. The crawling sensation on Leslie’s skin relaxed and he slowly settled back onto the bed.

“Leslie, dinner’s ready,” she began, opening the door a bit wider and allowing the waft of chicken and comfort to trail into his room through the gap.

Leslie’s nose twitched. He shook his head, head plopping back on his warm pillow. Kathrine’s shoulders sagged a bit and she looked uncertain, glanced back, then into the room.

“You sure?”

A nod.

“Okay. Take your time, love.” The door shut.

Bare feet lightly tapped on tile and faded away from hearing. Away from reach.

Leslie shut his eyes when all went quiet again, slowly sinking into slumber once more.

No later, the bed began to creak, dipping slightly as a body settled on the edge of the bed.

Leslie groaned. He parted his lids slowly, expecting Katherine to be there. She wore a dress today. The figure wore white pants. Leslie’s eyes cracked even wider until he was faced with a grayed blouse, black undershirt cloaking white arms. A baseball uniform?

He didn’t move, eyes silently dragging up the body to see the bulbous head on top. It wasn’t the head of any human, too large for the body yet balanced well on its skinny neck.

The body tilted, its side pointing towards the boy now. No face. That would be strange for a baseball to have anyway.

Its hand reached out, brushing Leslie’s hair to the side, seeming to show silent concern for him.

Leslie clicked his tongue, smacking the hand away.

The hand recoiled before easing back on the bed. The body turned again. Leslie shifted slowly so his back would face the unwelcomed guest.

More silence.

“Leave me alone.

I finally left that crummy place,” Leslie croaked. The ball head tilted. The sheets bunched in the small fist.

He knew the figure from the orphanage. Back when he had friends and a brother. Figurative, of course—he was an only child. But the male was often worshiped by Leslie. He was older than most of the kids and adored baseball. Leslie knew nothing of it.

He continued to cheer at games though, hopping up along with the other kids and crying out his brother’s name with joy. Peter.

When Peter left (he was too old for the orphanage) he left behind his cap, plopping it halfheartedly on Leslie’s head and patting down to keep it there. It was that cap, which he kept on his table, and... It. It had bothered him during playtime often and had him sent to the corner for screaming bad things. Eventually, Leslie started to hate yelling.

He hated speaking in general. He stopped speaking to the children and eventually they—the new kids coming at the orphanage—thought he was mute. He didn’t seem to mind anymore. He didn’t like them anyhow. Katherine adopted him as soon as she hearing about the problem. Out of pity, Leslie thought.

It lowered down, laid on the bed next to Leslie, the body sinking lower and neck crooking while the head bulked on the pillow. It lightly poked the

It wasn’t the head of any human, too large for the body yet balanced well on its skinny neck.

30

boy’s back. Leslie recoiled. Did it again. He whined.

Before he knew it, the poking turned into a tickle fight. Leslie squirmed and fought the laughter for as long as he could before bursting out. He wriggled and tried to move the arms away, giggling.

“Quit it! Stop it! Pete!” He laughed. Leslie’s heart jumped then. For a moment, in his quick glance, he could have sworn Peter’s face was in the place of the globe, tickling him when he was upset. Like old times.

Eyes welled and the hands stopped their playful pokes. Leslie’s shoulders shook and a large white hand brushed away the first tear.

It’s okay.

While lids shut tight, frantic to hide his hurt of being abandoned, Leslie felt something light plopping on top of his head. He flinched, opened his eyes. It was standing now, “head” bowed down as if to look at him. Leslie reached up, feeling a cap on his head. His eyes softened, arms lowering to embrace the cap.

New friends will come.

Leslie wasn’t sad any longer. Feeling the polyester though his fingers, he could hear Peter encourage him.

“This ain’t the happy little bugger I know.

Come on kiddo, chin up!” He’d say. Leslie shut his eyes. Peter watched for a moment, turned and vanished.

The next morning came and Leslie was up earlier than usual. He slid out of bed, clicking his foul tasting tongue a few times and rubbing his eye.

Peter’s cap as nuzzled in between his pillow and the blanket where he’d slept. He looked over at his nightstand to see a plate of chicken casserole, cold now.

He picked up the plate and dragged his feet to the kitchen where Katherine was stirring oatmeal, a fine china bowl in her hand. She looked over, seemingly surprised by his early rise. “Morning sleepy head, got leftover dinner?” she yawned, a hopeful yet not expectant smile on her lips.

Leslie shuffled to the microwave and opened it. He slipped the bowl in and shut the door. Scanning the microwave, his brows furrowed.

“I already made oatmeal if you-”

“Where’s the start button on this thing?”

Steve rushed in after he heard the sound of fine china shattering from the kitchen. End.

Pool of Tears

The Box The walls of desolation surround me I’m enclosed so tight I cannot scream, for no one can hear my voice Maybe that is a good thing; all I am to people is noise Tighter the box gets as I try to meet people’s expectations They are blinded so they cannot see that I am dying in desperation Be careful whom you trust as your friends For mine were the ones who taped the box shut Tighter the box gets as I worry about my view from their eyes Don’t try to be unique as you cover yourself in lies Tighter the box gets as I’m panting for air Hello, is anyone out there, does anyone care?

Tears stream down my face My heart torn, it aches The box opens I’m free at last I’ve lived my life as a lie I say I’m fine just to go home, lie in bed, and cry Everyone expects me to be strong This time however, I know I don’t need to belong I toss the box aside to show others how much I can overcome From now on, I will live life to the beat of my own drum Delaney McCawley 10th Grade

Untitled #5 by Kimberly Cravens

31

Future

Dwelling of Seven Pernicious Grievances

I looked out into the sea For my future me He had a dark leather rain coat On a miniature tug boat He cast a terrifying rope net With a wide framed set A shadow hovered over my head I could have swore I was dead Down I plundered As I was dragged under My future self drowning me Falling to the bottom of the deep dark blue sea I looked at me in the future All the dreams and goals haunting me I had wished to see and be my future Only to realize he was killing me

Lost, or awake here, Pray you flee From this lamenting Paradise.

The Paradise of malice you should dread, With lurking terrors to avoid‌ A Lavender Rabbit that’s all too sweet Lures you to a bed of lilacs with hidden intent.

The Crimson Beast is on the prowl to devour Everything in sight is a never-ending feast!

A lone garden in sight contains a single Yellow Rose.

Proud and full of haughtiness, its thorns choke all life.

The Viridian Breeze comes upon elegant feet with Poison hidden in its drowsy relief.

A spring of Magenta reflects what is not hers With eager hands it drags it down to the depths.

The Sapphire Cave hoards its treasures within, Swallowing up all the riches of the world.

An Ivory Gate in the Paradise contains our scorn Once opened punishment comes to all!

Is there even a single silken thread of escape?

Pray you never come to stay.

Jacob Herbert 9th Grade Untitled #5 by Kimberly Cravens

Charleston Baker 11th Grade

I Regret It I look at the photograph I regret it It was an ignorant decision You were remarkable I was greedy We locked the door and threw away the key After years Long lingering years I got the courage to go to the basement The damp air was cold Like your face in the photograph I regret it Marissa Corelli 9th Grade

32

Pool of Tears

Little Soldier

Indifferent Intentions

Do you remember you childhood, the abundance of laughs and playful games?

What is that like, to have a childhood?

I can only imagine for I’ve never had one, the memories of my youth are clear; but no, It wasn’t filled with bliss, instead consumed with agony and terror.

I matured too young, it’s traumatizing on young minds growing up that briskly, “This is for your own good,” is all I remember being told, “Ignore the pain and you will survive,” I was only a child; but treated like a soldier And a soldier I had become.

Her lethal simper is what hooked my soul, A holy zenith, hunting for a mark.

A morbid curiosity took hold, And pulled me toward her enchanting dark.

Her mind was an enigma - hard to love Some times were inimical and loathing; Others, intrinsic, fit snug like a glove.

But I found hope in what we were growing.

We could not live from one another, no; The withdrawal would leave us both bereft.

Without each other, we are just hollow; Only dead, former shells of ourselves left.

But our flames of love will never smother, Our souls always a slave to the other.

Nick Phan 11th Grade

Katherine McCraney 11th Grade

Untitled #7 by Kimberly Cravens

Hibiscus by Jillian Davis

33

The Ending.

Alexis Whaley 12th Grade

I woke up like any other day, I poured myself a bowl of classic cheerios and a glass of cold orange juice. I was content with my life at that very moment. I was not ready for the events that were about to unfold.

I look out into my front yard from my living room window; I can see people running, they are covered in blood. The look on their faces is terrifying, a look of desperation comes across all of their faces. Then it happened...BANG! My dad is rushing into my house-well what used to be my dad. He’s sprinting full force towards me and then I hear a loud gun shot from behind me. My dad drops into my arms.

grab all the water bottles we have and I shove them into my book bag.

“I am ready. Do you have your car?” I look at Kyle as he’s reloading his gun.

“Yes, let’s go, it’s already parked out front.” he says as he’s rushing towards my front door.

He takes a peek out my front window and we still see people running for their lives. It made me sick to my stomach to think that this is now the world we live in. We live in a world where we have to fight to survive. I am scared and my whole body shuttered because I do not want to go out there. I do not want to leave my whole life behind.

“What in the heck do you think you’re doing?” as I yelled to Kyle Bradley my childhood crush, who was running across my yard.

He grabbed my arm, “Blair we have to go NOW! Your father infected, everybody outside is infected, none of them are alive.”

“Blair, I will not let anything happen to you, I promise.” he says to me as he grabs my face trying to make things better, but We have to go! We do not have time to nothing can make this So many thoughts crossed sit here and wait to be infected. better. my mind in that very moment. Why should I leave with him? Is this a “Okay,I am trusting you…let’s go.” I look at him still joke? All these thoughts crossed my mind, but none drowning in fear. of them came out of my mouth. I just stood there in complete and utter shock.

He goes for the knob on the door, grabs my hand and we run to the car. We both hop in, lock the “Get everything you need. We have to go! We do door and put our seat belts on. I put my bag onto not have time to sit here and wait to be infected. my lap and get my gun out with all of my ammo.

Let’s go!” he says in a serious voice.

I grab a water, zip up my bag and toss it into the back. The car was full with amo and guns. Which I wanted to murder him, I was so furious with him. didn’t surprise because Kyle’s dad worked for the I just witnessed him shoot my dad who he says was president so I knew they would be the ones to denot even alive. Now he’s telling me I have no choice pend on if a gun was needed. but to leave with him. I run upstairs, grab my book bag and dump everything out of it. I go into dad’s “My parents have a house near Georgetown, we can room, to the safe, I quickly type in the password drive there, but first we need to stop by the store.”

2-9-2-9, his favorite number, a password that i’ve he says as he put the key into the ignition. known since I was ten years old. I grab the gun, “Are your parents meeting us there?” I say questionknife and all the ammo in the safe. I go back into ing his plans. my room, grab the book bag and shove everything “They would, if they were still alive.” he says as he in the bag, besides the knife, I shove it into my whips out of my drive way. pocket. I run downstairs and go into the kitchen. I 34

Pool of Tears He’s driving north to the Walmart that is closest to us. He turns the music on, I’m guessing because he thinks it’ll calm me down. Which it did, John Legend is always so lovely when it comes to dead people walking everywhere I look. This is probably the best time for me to tell him exactly how I how feel about him, but I am afraid of being let down like always.

“That was possibly that scariest thing I have ever done in my entire life, but the good thing is I got lots of ammo and I got peanut butter crackers.” he says as he’s catching his breath still. He starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. He runs every single red light because we are the only ones on the street. We drive about forty-five minutes to Georgetown. We get to the city and it’s blocked off with a gate. The gate has a huge lock on it. I had then lost all hope.

“Blair, there is something I need to tell you-” but then I cut him off.

“Yes I know, i’ve treated you like complete crap all of high school, I have ignored you when all I ever did was love you.

I should have told you earlier. I know and I am sorry.” I say these words without even thinking of what he had to tell me.

“There is a hobby lobby a couple blocks down, I can probably get in and get something to break this lock with. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay babe.” he says as he kisses me again and grabs my hand. We drive about two blocks over and he puts the car in park. Loads his gun more and starts to open the door.

“I was going to tell you that I packed us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the back, Blair, I love you too. I always have.” he pulls into Walmart and parks the car as close to the entrance as he can. He grabs his gun from the bag and grabs my book bag also.

“Please be careful. Please promise me you will be careful.” I say as I get emotional.

“I am going to run in real quick, we need to get as much ammo as possible, wait rightand keep the Blood Thirsty by Courtney Plumer doors locked. Do not leave this car for any reason.” he says to me and then he grabs my face and he kisses me. I was in complete shock. He hops out of the car and looks back at me and winks. Is this funny to him? Him kissing me and then going alone into a store that is possibly filled with dead people. I wait for him. I wait about ten minutes and then I see him sprinting to the car. He hops in with his arms full.

35

“ I promise, I will be back in fifteen minutes.

If I am not back in fifteen minutes come get me.” he says as he touches my hand, opens door and then runs. I see him shooting, there are about five of them running his way and he shoots all of them. He knows how to aim and work a gun far better than I’ve seen anyone else. It’s something I would see in movie. I wait. And I wait some more.

It seems like forever since he left. I see a crowd of zombies coming my way. I lower my seat back so they wouldn’t be able to see me in the car. I lay back while I here them banging on the windshield. I hear them for about ten minutes and then the sound of them disappear.

He should be back by now is what I keep thinking to myself. I grab my gun and I take a run for it.

I run awhile until I hear the horror of his scream. His leg was stuck in the gate and three of them were surrounding him. I shoot them, but it was too late. His neck looked like somebody took a chainsaw to it and he was bleeding out. He’s was dying. The boy I had just poured my heart out to is dying.

“I am sorry Blair, I just-” he said and then it was over. He was gone. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was having an anxiety attack. I grab his keys and his gun. I pointed my gun towards him and I turn my face. Then I shot. I had to do it before he turned into one of them. I couldn’t see him that way. I run towards the car. I am getting run down by a group of about twenty five of them and I shoot.

I shoot until I run out of ammo. Then I hear yelling coming from near by.

“Come on! In here!” I hear from a voice of a little girl. I run towards the building and I slam the door shut and I look it. Catching my breath as I am crying. She takes my hand and leads me up the stairs into the apartment. She was alone, nobody else was there to watch over her. She was about six years old, blonde hair and blue eyes. She was a mess.

“Hi. I am Sophie. My parents got killed. They aren’t coming back and I am alone. Can you please just stay here with and don’t leave.” She says to me in the most innocent voice. Her eyes are wide and are starring at me, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, Sophie. I will stay with you, I promise you, I am not going anywhere.” I say to her. I meant it. For the first time in hours I was content with the words I had spoken. I was broken, but I had to be there for this little girl and that’s what I was going to do.

End.

Swallow Tail by Giselle Godinez

36

Pool of Tears

It Was Raining It was raining.

Raining on a lovely field.

But it wasn’t just rain falling, And the field wasn’t so lovely.

It was raining.

A storm of mortar shells fell without yield.

Through the night both guns and men were yelling.

And the sound‌ungodly.

It was raining.

The sun began to climb above the muddy field.

Leaping from the trenches, men were yelling.

Their colors flew with them patriotically.

It was raining.

Once more a stalemate on the bloody battlefield.

The colors tattered yet still waving, As night fell silently.

It was raining.

Rifles were aimed and wills were steeled.

Men fell as Maxims hailed bullets unending, A horde of grey flooding the beige unceremoniously.

It was raining.

The tattered colors were brought down and replaced.

Corpses were buried under a different flag, triumphantly waving.

Both soldiers and generals die eventually.

It was raining.

Eric Bright 9th Grade

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The Perfect Mermaid Robert Crotteau 11th Grade

Once upon a time about 3 weeks ago, there was a beautiful young woman by the name of Aria Del Mar, who was the yoga instructor for her father at “EveryDay Yoga”. The studio was completely dedicated to the fine art of yoga. As the company grew older, fewer and fewer people came; the company began to suffer, the father only being able to keep his three daughters as instructors, under the circumstances.

The studio over time began to collect dust on the hardwood floor, and mold on the ceiling. Some floorboards were loose and shrieked when you applied pressure, some ceiling panels are missing, and the rails along the sides were broken. The studio’s decadence was a sure sign that it would be closing soon, but the father never gave up hope, and he put all of his money into keeping the business afloat.

skin. His brown dreadlocks were tied back with a black hair tie, and dropped to his neck. He wore baggy black bottoms and varying colored bracelets on his wrists. He laid his mat directly in front of her and said “Alright class, welcome to Globo Gym Yoga Studios, my name is Antonio, and I am your yoga instructor.” Aria’s heart raced and she prepared herself, she took a deep breath and stretched her back.

Antonio spoke up again “Okay class, first, reach up to the sky and lock your fingers... now lean back and let your back become limber... now lean forward very slowly and allow your hands to graze the floor... downward dog; lean forward and put your hands in front of you and support yourself by lowering yourself so your posterior is higher than your shoulders... plank; lower your backside so it is level with your shoulders... Hold... Hold... now go into mermaid.”

Aria had been following along and got into mermaid position as Antonio scanned the room. His eyes passed over Aria but he found his eyes working their way back to her.

Aria had been following along and got into mermaid position...

One night Aria longingly looked out the window at the other yoga studio across the street; business has been booming over there, not allowing “Everyday Yoga” to maintain a customer for very long. When she awoke the next morning she faked a sickness to get off of work. Her father said “Do your morning yoga and then if that does not work, then you are permitted to stay home.”

The two locked eyes and couldn’t look away. It wasn’t before a woman in the back yelled “My back is going numb, let’s hurry this up!” before they both realized they were gazing at each other for five minutes straight.

Antonio sputtered “Oh, of course... of course... yeah, everyone take five.” As the reluctant crowd dispersed, Antonio approached Aria.

After an hour, her father accepted the fact that she was ill, and went to teach the class of three students himself. After her father left she grabbed her yoga mat and headed to the 11 o’clock class at Globo Gym “I’ve never seen such posture and perfection from someone Yoga Studios. in my class while performing mermaid!” He was legitimately impressed and asked her out to coffee while someone else When she entered the revolving glass doors she took took over the class. They spent the whole night together and in the exquisite interior: marvelous polished marble shared laughs and stories to go along with them. They remeverywhere, large white tile covered the floors, no inisced about their childhood, and how they got to where ceiling panels were missing, everything was so clean, they are now. They formed a connection, and Aria couldn’t and nothing was broken. The second thing she nohelp but fall in love; she had only hoped that he felt the ticed was the calming music emanating from above same way, but by the way he held her hand and kissed her her. She headed up the stairs and entered the yoga on the cheek, she thought so. classroom. She found a spot near the front and she came face to face with the most handsome man she’d After dinner they went to sit on a bench outside of the ever seen. He had no shirt, and very defined muscles restaurant. “What is that?” Antonio asked pointing to her with over laying tattoos; black that accented his tan leg.

38

Pool of Tears She quickly shifted on the bench uncomfortably and rolled her pant leg completely down. She took a moment and said “ It’s a tattoo.” She took another moment before sighing and lifting the pant leg completely up to her thigh. She revealed a giant knife that extended from mid thigh to her foot.

Antonio looked closely at it, running his fingers over the dark ink, giving her goosebumps. “All tattoos have meaning, what is this symbolizing?” he asked sincerely.

“Ever since I was a little girl I had arthritis; I cried every time I walked. I had to walk in crutches and if my foot touched the ground a sharp pain went all the way up my legs and in my joints, as my bones grinded every time that I took a step.” Aria explained, getting a little emotional, “this tattoo makes me remember what it was like.”

Antonio sat there, with his mouth slightly ajar, letting out a fresh mint smell. “Has it gotten better?” He asked.

Aria and Antonio’s night after that was quite uneventful.

Another kiss on the cheek, a promise to come to class the next day, and then a goodnight.

The next day, as Aria promised, she was back; but only after faking another day of illness in order to escape her father’s clutches. She laid her head exactly where it was yesterday and Antonio did the same.

He gave her a sly smile and she returned it with a blush.

He started to speak “Alright class I wa-” but he was interrupted. The cold breeze chilled the studio and fogged the windows; A woman in a black sports bra and yoga pants entered. Her jet black hair tied up, a mat in one hand, and phone in the other. She walked right up to Antonio, dropped the mat, and they started eating each other’s faces.

If Aria wasn’t sitting already, she would have collapsed.

Her heart had shattered in her chest leaving her breathless and teary eyed. It took all of her willpower, and then some to not scream of pain; her heart throbbed as hope, and love pulsated out of her wound.

“Yes; when I was 12 years old the doctor prescribed yoga.

My dad was reluctant at first but when I started to feel better, my dad became a yoga instructor and Ace of Swords by Tayler Brown I have been doing it everyday since it helps my joints and bones get stronger and I don’t feel it as much whenever I walk.” Aria said softly, it was a The woman looked at Aria and said “That’s my spot.” sore subject, as her first 11 years of life were scarred with agony.

Aria grabbed her mat and sprinted out of the studio, wiping away the wetness from her eyes. Although at one time there “When I was 16 years old,” Antonio started, “I was a was compassion for Antonio, there was nothing but malice soccer star at my high school; a varsity player as a sophnow. Aria is usually easy going but when her heart is ripped omore. One day I went for a ride with my friend and we out, she becomes psychotic. got into a car accident. It messed up my back, and yoga made it better. The mat I have was given to me by my Aria knew exactly what she had to do, she needed vengrandma when she heard I started doing yoga. I love that geance. A man with no respect for women doesn’t deserve mat; my grandmother died three weeks after she gave it what he had. to me, so it was the last gift she ever gave me. It’s the only thing I have to remember her by.”

There was an old homeless woman by the name of 39

Othella, who claimed she was a witch. She headed over to her neck of the woods and she soon saw the lady. There was no way you could miss her; she was sprawled on the sidewalk leading to the main road.

She was face down on the ground, licking the asphalt and poking the dirt on the side of the sidewalk. Her left hand poked around in the dirt while the other pulled on her own grey wiry hair. Aria walked up to her a little startled, “Ma’am, I have a question to ask you.” she said looking around to make sure no one was staring. She felt a little awkward standing there while an elderly person laid in the ground licking cement.

such severe pain that Aria could barely stay conscious. The knife that came to life was the tattoo on her leg, and she knew that she had made a vital error. She gave up her own health to break someone’s heart. But she knew the other part of the puzzle; ‘His most treasured item His yoga mat, he said it himself! But the last part... my most beloved? My most beloved was Antonio before last night.’ She didn’t understand, didn’t want to find out either.

She somehow managed to get back to the car, and climb into the seat. As she drove away every time she pushed a pedal her legs screamed agony for mercy, Aria was crying, but she wanted Antonio to have his heart broken like she did. This was the only way.

The old woman without looking up exclaimed “But It was midnight and she crept into the backside parking lot it’s... not... Taco Tuesday!” Taking pauses in between for employees of Globo Gym yoga studios, she was able to talking to continue licking the wait until an employee walked out asphalt. back door and slipped inside Aria gasped for air, her legs the of the building. She went to the exploded in a fiery pain. yoga area where Antonio was this “I was actually wondering if you could help me? I heard morning with her. She crept inside you were a witch.” Aria said feeling a little ridiculous the large room surrounded with mirrors and at the very watching an elderly person acting so absurd. end of the room was a box of supplies. She crept up to the cardboard boxes and peeked inside; the blue yoga mat was The lady bolted up facing away from Aria, “So this is inside! His yoga mat! a business trip. I see. You may ask me what you want; in return you shall have one answer, and two condiShe looked at it and unrolled the material. She noticed tions you must complete.” something on the back and read it “To: My little Tony Boy. From: Nana.”

Aria’s voice full of wavering anger said “I wish to avenge my broken heart, by breaking the heart of the Aria teared up; what had she done? She was going to steal one who did me wrong.” a sentimental piece of someone’s life? She dropped to her knees and laid out the mat.

The old woman let out a dry, low, chuckle “Bring me Yoga took her mind off of things, so she started by laying the treasure of the man you wish to requite, and I face down, and she started to go into plank, but her arms promise you that I will make this wrong a right. But would not allow her. Her eyebrows raised as she tried to go be warned; a knife shall come to life, I will steal your into downward dog, no, and not even mermaid. She was most beloved, and it is something you can not fight.” perplexed, but just then it clicked “...I will steal your most beloved...” And just then Aria broke down. The witch took Aria didn’t hesitate “Yes. I wish to accept.” the only thing in life that was worth living for. In a matter of one day, a witch was able to steal everything precious to The old woman laughed “You have accepted terms the poor girl. She lay on the ground convulsing, unable to you do not understand, all for revenge. You humans breath or see as her tears blurred everything. The cold tile never learn. Your punishments will be inflicted now. floor drank up the tears and embraced Aria as yellow light And your revenge will be sought when you bring me absorbed the room. Aria looked up to see what was happenthe most valuable item of the man.” She snapped her ing; yellow clouds were surrounding the room, and a soft fingers and dissipated. gold hue seemed to warm the studio. Just then silhouette of a man floated out of the clouds, he formed his hands, bent Aria gasped for air, her legs exploded in a fiery pain. down and said “Namaste.”

Everything from the waist down was burning with 40

Pool of Tears Aria couldn’t see much, but as her tears faded she took in the sight of the behemoth of a man. He was extremely muscular, veins popping out of his arms, and because he wasn’t wearing a shirt, she saw the chiseled abdomen, and brawny shoulders. He wore a white headband along with white baggy pants that cut off right at his bare feet. Everything about the giant was inhuman, even his eyes had a pearlescent glow that chilled Aria’s body.

breathe, and she could no longer feel her legs, just a sensation of white hot needles spread from her hip down- he bent his knees and came face to face with the god. She got a closer look; his complexion was flawless, just a smooth surface of cream colored skin, and dark brown hair that connected at the sideburns and created a full beard. He had no scent to him, but the muscles that covered his body were doused of sweat.

The man slowly walked around Aria’s limp body, as she The “empathetic” god started to talk again in his malevolent let out tears of pure agony. His voice was very deep and voice again “You are going to die...but you have a decision booming, she felt the vibraof two paths. Option tion in her chest when he A; you will go to hell. opened his mouth “I, the Option B; you will go God of yoga, have seen your to hell, and redeem sins; unspeakable crimes the lost souls in hell against the way of yoga. You by way of yoga. When attempted to destroy a sayou have saved enough cred item; the mat of one of souls, you are permitmy other followers. Mats are ted to go to purgatory. the roads to the soul, and But in no way are you you attempted to dissuade allowed into heaven.” an avid follower of mine.

The god stood up and But I am an empathetic and backed towards his understanding god... What mystical yellow clouds. say you in your defense?”

The monologue had Aria Aria cried harder than shivering from both pain just moments before; and fright, her nerves were the last sentence broke clashing within her. her heart. She was unCobra Mermaid by Linda Holt able to go to heaven, Aria tried a few times to talk without but either way she had avail, but she finally found her voice; “I acted out of spite to go to hell. Aria contemplated her life; what if she never too fast. I wanted to hurt him as he hurt me. Does he not faked her illness to escape her father? What if she never deserve equal punishment?” Aria said, a little aggravated longingly looked out the window to Globo Gym? What if at the lack of understanding this “understanding” God she just took a step back, and appreciated what she had? had.

Aria choked for a second, and decided to choose the path of The god scowled; his nostrils flared up, and his eyebrows redemption. The god left her on the frozen tile floor to die; knit, as well as his eyes narrowed to only be slightly ajar. it did not take long, but in those last moments on Earth, His voice became deeper, and more sinister “You do not she thought of her father, Othella, her two sisters, but most condemn the souls of others, that is my duty and my duty of all Antonio. She let one last tear fall from her face, but alone.” He paused, obviously aggravated. He wasn’t as soft before it hit the ground; she was no longer there. spoken as he had seemed before. The gentleness to his End. presence had obviously left, and instead it was replaced by an ominous cold. He paced around on the freshly waxed tile; his feet making a noise every time he lifted his foot.

“As I have said before, I am an understanding god, as well as empathetic...” He now stood in front if Aria, who was still crying of the pain in her legs. She could barely 41

Kindergartner’s Play-doh We are like a kindergartener’s play-doh We are molded and shaped Manipulated and forced upon But - Forgive me For I am human I am not some kindergartner’s play-doh Society is my sculptor It has taught me to eat, breathe, and live by its rules To keep my head down bite my tongue when things get rough But - forgive me for I haven’t been the most conforming I have crossed that oh-so fragile line the one that divides the perfect models of society from its misfits I am the ugly mustard color from mixing with others The nasty taste of salt and vinegar like harsh words The bitter sticky feeling left on your hands which feels like blood But - do not forgive me For I am the child who smashes the play-doh and does it over And like that sculpture, I am rebuilding myself Piece by piece Jillian Davis 10th Grade

Untitled #8 by Kimberly Cravens

42

Alice’s Evidence

“He sent them word I had not gone (We know it to be true): If she should push the matter on, What would become of you?”

-Lewis Carroll

Eye for Justice by Micah Galarza

43

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Essay Dylan Macklin 10th Grade

Martin Luther King, Jr. left a legacy behind of true greatness and dedication to the people of the United States. King was a Civil Rights Activist and a minister at a Baptist church. He believed in solving discrimination with wisdom, justice, and love. Martin knew that if everyone took a step back to see the bigger picture, people would learn to love instead of persecute and attack their opposites. His movements were not just for African Americans but everyone facing violence and oppression from others.

Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated just before a speech in 1968 at a hotel he had been staying at.

His death was devastating to everyone who had subscribed to his movement but only encouraged the U.S. to be more compassionate to every race and religion.

following with his intelligence and guidance, Martin was a very wise man who could not see the sense in the legal segregation of blacks in the south. After seeing the courage of Rosa Parks on the bus, he was all aboard the desegregation train. With that being said, the Montgomery Bus Boycott was the kick off to one of the most influential movements in the history of the United States. After the victory with the buses, they decided to create the Southern Christian Leadership Conference in order to have a national organization because that would make the possibility for growth more attainable, and it helps to have a large group of people working together to facilitate their movement.

A trip to Gandhi’s birthplace in India during 1959 moved Martin Luther King, Jr. and sparked his desire to clean things up in America peacefully and efficiently. These qualities make Martin different from his opposition and even other African Americans seeking freedom.

Violence was a big issue and at times a roadblock in the mid-1950s and through the 1960s.

Martin’s efforts and success led up to the most memorable and pivotal moment of his career,

King was born on January 15 during the year 1929. Given the birth name of Michael, he later Untitled #9 by Kimberly Cravens changed his first name into his adulthood. His family came out of rural Georgia. Martin followed his father’s footsteps by becoming a Baptist Minister and ultimately found his way to being a Civil Rights Activist through being a minister. His church saw him as a leader and a man who could build a strong

44

Alice’s Evidence the famous “I Have A Dream Speech. Nationally televised for the world to see at the Lincoln Memorial, the speech touched hundreds of thousands of people. Martin is said to be known as the most widely regarded African Leader of that time in history. Given an award such as the Nobel Peace Prize and several others including a holiday in which we remember his life’s work and contribution to desegregation.

Lastly, the world we know today still has discrimination and prejudice. Qualities of society that are inescapable, however, Martin’s impact even after death has left a mark on today’s culture and we as a people still live by some aspects of what he left behind. The greatest way to maintain his dream is to help, give, and love one another.

Martin would not want separation and hate.

People today must unite and stay connected with one another to be secure in acceptance. As a society, staying involved in the community allows everyone to work and grow together. Continuing to remember King and carrying his legacy means we have to be open to letting everyone be a part of the nation. Sometimes we forget that everyone has a purpose and everyone can make a difference. Potential is everywhere for growth.

Mirror Mirror, why do you hide what’s inside?

It’s as if you judge people on how they look or their outside mask You glisten You shine But you hide You hide my beauty on the inside My emotions My personality Please show my individuality!

I wish I could break and shake you but, bad luck will fall upon me You’re awful You’re judgmental All you do is show us that we will never have a perfect outside Mirror, please show us our true beauty on the inside!

Madison Meares 9th Grade

Mirror by Giselle Godinez

In conclusion, Martin Luther King, Jr. was put on this Earth to make a difference. He changed the way people view our country. Martin did something that only he could do. His dream was accomplished but it wasn’t fulfilled. We don’t have segregation laws anymore but discrimination and separation still exists and affects us all.

The future should bring unity for everyone who lives in the United States. Violence is never the answer and everyone is important in the world no matter what race, ethnicity, or background they come from. The Dream is what matters most and everyone has the ability to contribute.

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Hard Times Global Disapproval. What are we fighting for?

Watch the troops assemble, now stone cold and on the floor.

The nation is in trouble. Can it take anymore?

Freedom is crucial. What are we dying for?

Hard Times!

When the death toll rises, And the mothers are cryin’ Their sons all fighting In a war that’s never dying We were all reminded Of the chance we had to rise We are all reminded Hate don’t mind, it’s a sign of times War is a sickness, and I’ve caught a disease.

We live in animosity, we can’t get rid of the greed.

What’s this world gonna be, when time comes for an apology?

Hard Times!

Blood. Death toll rises.

Pain. No more healing.

Choke. Pick your poison.

Dwell. You’re reminded…

Hate don’t mind, keeps us blind.

Dylan Macklin 10th Grade

46

Alice’s Evidence

The Truth of Islam Tazeen Fatima 11th Grade

The meaning of Islam is “peace.” The first thing Islam teaches us is peace of humanity, when two Muslims greet, they will often say, “Asalam-O-Alaikum” (an Arabic word) which means “Peace be upon you.” The base of this creed derives from peace, so how can be related to terrorism?

verses from the Quran are very similar to verses in the Bible, for example, the belief that God, or “Allah,” a name for God in Arabic, is the only Deity to be worshipped: Quran 2:255: “Allah! None has the right to be worshipped but He, The Ever Living, the One Who sustains and protects all that exists. Neither slumber nor sleep overtakes Him. To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth.…”

Words from the Holy Quran:

Mark 12:29-30: Jesus replied, “The most important one is this: “Listen, Israel! The Lord our God is the only Lord. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.”

Sometimes it is felt by Muslims that Christians don’t understand or hate their faith not from a place or knowledge, but from a place of ignorance. Perhaps, if given an education on the Islamic faith, Christians would be accepting, and recognize that fanatics come from all religions, not only the Islamic faith.

Translation: “Whoever kills a person, it is as though he has killed all mankind. And whoever saves a life, it is as though he has saved all mankind.”

The Last Prophet of Islam, Hazrat Muhammmad (P.B.U.H), who lived his whole life preaching Islam, and is the best example of tolerance, respect, and honesty, says, “Whoever kills a Non-Muslim, will not even get a whiff of paradise.”

The most important tenants of Islam are its’ five pillars: The monotheistic belief in God; praying to God daily, five time a day, called “Namaz”; spiritual cleansing through fasting in Ramadan; giving donations to those in need, “Zakah” (Giving charity in Arabic), and performing the pilgrimage to Mecca, called “Hajj.”

ISIS is a name of an organization that is the enemy of peaceful countries. This organization is using the name of Islam as its religion, but the truth is ISIS is an enemy of Muslims and the Islamic faith. Since ISIS emerged last, Muslims worldwide have been bombarded with the claim that this terrorist group represents an interpretation of Islam.

Muslims believe in the divinity of all of God’s Prophets: Adam, Moses, Jesus, Noah, Abraham and others, along with Prophet Muhammad, (“Peace be upon him,” a phrase said every time a Muslim mentions his name, something said for respect, similar to a Catholic giving an “Our Father,” with the motion of hands ) who Muslims believe was the final Prophet.

Islam, like Christianity and Judaism, all recognize Abraham as an important figure. In fact, all three religions came from Abraham! Often, in fact, some

I am an exchange student from Pakistan, and my appearance is little bit different from 47

the others in the United States. I am a Muslim and I wear a “Hijab” (a scarf that covers the head and chest which is worn by most of the Muslim women beyond the age of puberty in the presence of adult males outside of their family), so often I receive stares, most I assume are because I’m different, but often it’s more, often it’s like they’re dehumanizing me, like I’m less a person, less an individual, less…just myself.

a year ago a school in Peshawar (capital of the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province of Pakistan) was attacked where more than a 130 children were brutally killed.

People are demanding apologies from other Muslims countries, but why must I, or Pakistan apologize for the actions of few deranged individuals who claim to be like us, but are not?

Those who claim Islam as their faith, but defy all beliefs the Muslim faith upholds? South Carolina shooting. Another example of Christian fanaticism. Would that be right? Can one action of fanatic dictate the whole of a religion?

I ask, “Am I not as human like them? Am I different from them?

Do they think how I feel when they give me a weird look?”

Whenever I give smile to people, they are terrified to smile me back.

They are horrified to talk to me.

Muslims, in fact, suffer the most from fanaticism. Out of the top ten countries in the world, which are suffering from terrorism, eight of them are Muslim states. Just last year alone, more than 18,700 people were killed in Muslim majority areas like Afghanistan, Iraq and Syria.

But after the Paris attacks, after the horror of what was done, I wanted to send a message, something to help others’ understand: Hi, My name is Tazeen Fatima and I’m a Pakistani Muslim.

I am from the part of the world called South Asia. On 13th of Self Portrait of/by Tazeen Fatima November, the French capital saw barbaric acts of terror, scenes of horror, scenes of evil. Some would blame the whole Muslim community.

Islam does not support terrorism. Terrorism goes against every principle in Islam. If a person engages in terrorism, he is not following Islam.

Islam is a religion of peace. Terrorism relies on acts of violence. Terrorism doesn’t believe in Allah, they believe only in pain and suffering for those different from them. Terrorism isn’t religious, terrorism has no religion-- only bloodshed and rape and murder.

But I would like you to know about how the real, actual Muslim community feels about the attack. They were just as shocked, horrified.

They prayed for their safety, security. They were disgusted by those claiming our faith of peace.

In all honesty, we, those who believe in Islam, are the same as you. We have the same hopes, the same dreams, the same ambitions. We go to bed at night, hoping and praying and dreaming of waking up to a better world, not just for our-

And we understood how Paris felt. We understood the fear and terror. Vivid examples.

Because incidents like these are really common in Pakistan or a Muslim country, in fact less than 48

Alice’s Evidence

To Be Involved

selves, but for everyone, not just the individual Muslim, but the world.

I hope, as a woman, as a Muslim, as a student, as a person who wakes every morning, hoping for a good day, crying when sad and laughing when happy, smiling when greeted and frowning when upset, that people will learn more about my faith and decide, for the better, to not judge one for another’s actions, but instead, as a population, to love one another for who he or she is, not what one decides he or she should be, a hope that is worthwhile, and worth fighting for in the future.

End.

We don’t realize our world is flattening So we go straight to our keyboards as shack paddles To hang to that thread of control we have in our lives So we “Favorite,” “Swipe left” and “right” to be “involved” When in actuality, we continue to become hazed Our eyes see no reality Our ears hear no truth Brining us one bar closer to reality Where one day We will have “No service.”

Kimberly Crane 12th Grade

Millennial The youth is weak The skies look bleak A perfect life we all seek Growing up pampered and sugar coated Failing economy and global warming Easily offended their self-entitlement is bloated Worldwide, the cloud of poverty is storming To hard work, we are no longer devoted Fearing the future is a plague that our youth is now conforming Less work, more pay Worried about how much we weigh A perfect life will come no day But if we put down the lies Put down our fear We will no longer march slowly to our demise We will see the answers to our problems are clear Ethan Giddens 9th Grade Muslim by Jasmin Kheder

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Abuelo I remember his eyes.

I remember looking through his soft crystal blue eyes.

Feeling a sense of comfort and protection.

His eyes were the kind that you’d seek for when you were down.

They were the ones I used to look into when he would tell me stories.

I remember them closing when he laughed.

I remember his hands.

I remember his hands weren’t soft or dainty like a flower.

They were wrinkled from age and rougher than crumpled paper.

They were the ones I used to hold onto while walking to school.

I remember holding his hand by the bedside.

I remember a lot about him.

The things considered insignificant were my favorite things about him.

His idea of having a new hobby each month.

Or perhaps his love for plants or cooking for his grandchildren.

I remember just about everything.

I remember him.

Nautical Star Doodle by Micah Galarza

Oryana Northup 11th Grade

Starfruit

Nautical Star Doodle by Micah Galarza

The delicate hands, Slice the food with grace.

Of a natural-born painter.

The wind blows lightly, Letting a soft hum escape in the summer breeze.

My grandpa sits across from me, Cutting the fruit quickly but calmly.

From the top of the hill, A portrait of the city is captured.

Finally the fruit is cut, And distributed among us.

“It looks like a star!” I said.

He laughs and says, “You are what you eat, doll.”

Samantha Anslero 9th Grade

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An Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Day at G.J. By: Mrs. Holt’s Creative Writing I, Mr. Walton’s Creative Writing I, and the Literati

G.J. by Bailey McArdle

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you think I’m completely incompetent? Was it even spelled right?” frustrated I couldn’t hold back.

How do you read an encyclopedia?

The following is an attempt to provide the reader, particularly those of you who come to this in a distant era, with plain facts about American teenage life within the years of 2012 to 2016 at George Jenkins High School. Writers and artists provide their impressions of their lives and the lives wandering around them through the clustered and claustrophobic hallways, varying between freshmen to seniors, in this section of the magazine. Based off of Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, a miscellany group of anthropomorphic beings that roam the campus of George Jenkins, in the creative writing classes taught by Mrs. Holt and Mr. Walton along with the Literati, have submitted pieces capturing the attention of those who dare to read their work.

“You could have just said no,” he said back to me.

And that’s the first time I went to the choice room. All of that over aluminum foil. See: Changes, Jail, Kids

Art by Courtney Plumer

The encyclopedia is not meant to be read alphabetically or chronologically, but as though it was an actual encyclopedia. You can read the piece that interests you most and go through the acknowledged references as you please, or hop around through different topics. Remember: Follow the White Rabbit.

Aluminum Foil Aluminum foil. At first this may sound odd, but give me a second to explain. The sandwiches at school are wrapped in aluminum foil and if pushed hard against the table they will leave a grey pencil like mark on the table. So one ordinary day my name gets called to the main office, where K-Rob meets me. He then proceeds to question me. “Why did you write your name on the table?”

Band Band is a great experience and I love every minute of it. While the people can get annoying, it’s still fun. It’s not just about the music; it’s about growing and maturing. We can see each other become adults; we can see each other become new people and advance in life, going off to college. Through all of the 6:00 practices and competitions, we stick together; because we are a family. See: Memories, Smile, Tertiary, Zoo

Utterly confused I responded, “I’m not sure what you mean? What table?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Your name was on the lunch table, explain.” His “serious face” could make a baby laugh, but I still got angry.

Bibliophile The feeling of thin pages, flat but rough enough to stall the movement of fingertips as they glide across them is what comforts me most.

I couldn’t believe that he was this daft. “Why would I write my own name on the table? Do

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An entirely transportable method of absorbing yourself into a different world filled with possibilities not limited by even the atmosphere of the earth. Fiction to non-fiction, sci-fi to philosophy, for anything you could possibly imagine exists; a universe behind the somewhat thicker cover of the novel itself. From Nabovok to Camus, Dickens to Keyes, each author brings forth an idea or issue, individualized by who is writing it.

say in anything since we were born. We didn’t even choose our own name. See: GPA, Grades, Morbid, Teachers, Tertiary, Worry, X-RAY, Zombies Courtyard The courtyard is a tiny space, in the middle of buildings one through four, where most of George Jenkin’s student body hangs out at in the mornings, full of life despite the early hour. I used to chill there for freshman year; that is until life and the struggles of the morning caught up with me. Now, I get to school at 6:53 A.M., a mere two minutes before the bell rings to start the day. See: Jail, Kids, Mitochondria, Online, Smile, Stuck Up, Tertiary, Weight, Yesterday, Zombies, Zoo

This is why I love books so much. To the extent of the only thing I care about is keeping them in pristine condition and organizing them by how much I like them. They’re a drug of sorts, you don’t need prescriptions, but they’re as addictive as methamphetamine without the consequence, only books give the ability to dove into a fictional world and escape reality at any time provided by good writing, I will always love books and people who hate them will only continue to confuse me.

See: Teachers, Worry

Day Dreaming by Brianna Norris

Blizzard Every class is so cold that it’s like I’m in a freezer.

One time, I was in Mr. Robichaud’s class (the one who teaches Geometry, not his brother who teaches World History), and despite wearing two jackets, three shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants, I was still shivering. See: Sick, Teachers Changes Since my freshman year, I have changed so much.

My freshman year I thought that I had to impress everyone and try hard; I was always quiet, shy and nervous to be around people. Now, I’m out there and I’m not as shy as I used to thanks to one certain teacher. (Love you, Mrs. Holt!)

See: Aluminum Foil, Grades, Kids, Memories, Tertiary, Victims

Disgusting Walking through the halls between classes I see a couple, walking side by side. Nothing irritates me more than when they stop directly in front of me and decide to suck each other’s faces. Save that for when you are in private; I don’t want to walk and be stuck in your mess or scar my eyes for the rest of my life. It’s just so gross. See: Hot Air

Choices Do you really have a choice in life? Can you do what you want? Is school important? That choice is not your own, as it may seem. Your whole life was previously set up for you by society; a plan was already made wither you do this and be successful or you do that and be nothing. No one wants to be nothing so they do as they’re told, as they’re instructed by society, to be successful.

If you think about it we never had a choice or a 53

Doodle by Tayler Brown

Hope by Gabrielle Memmoli

Hot Air “The school of hot air.” This could easily be the tagline of George Jenkins High School. Teachers that talk more about how their life is going and less about the curriculum they are paid to teach as if it’s paid therapy. A large amount of the student body tends to go along with this considering I know more about the woman trying to steal your man than the quadratic formula. Other faculty members like the high school experience because they get to be around petty people like they’re used to. I guess my shoulders showing is a bigger problem than other body parts spilling out. People would rather do nothing and complain about simple things rather than get something productive done. See: Disgusting, Kids, Online, Stuck Up, Teachers, Victims

Introvert by Julianna Rose Bassett

GPA GPA standing for grade point average is what will make or break your high school career.

Freshman year of high school is when your GPA is most important. It also represents my tears when I hear everyone’s GPA is better than mine.

See: Choices, Grades, Jail, Late Nights, Mitochondria, Shia La Beouf, Sleep, Teachers, Weight, Worry, Yesterday, Zombies Grades The starting of freshman year my GPA was a 3.8, but now that I am a senior my GPA has gone in the toilet. GPA was something that I should have taken more seriously. Now, I will not be going to the dream college that I have always wanted to go to. My High School GPA now is 3.045 and if I did not fail geometry freshman year it would be better. Seeing that 3.8 drop to a 3.0 in a mere four years make me realize how hard it is going to be after high school. It is true when they tell you not to mess up in high school because you will soon regret it later. See: Changes, Choices, GPA, Jail, Late Nights, Mitochondria, Soccer, Sleep, Teachers, Weight, Worry, Yesterday, Zombies 54

when carelessness and cockiness overlaps, it’s no longer a likeable feature. Now older, an upper classman in high school- at least I thought this was high school-to hear them giggle at obscene jokes or burst out whatever “funny” thing that comes to mind is definitely cringe-worthy. See: Aluminum Foil, Changes, Courtyard, Hot Air, Memories, Stuck Up, Tertiary, Zoo

Jail The lights in my cell turned on, forcing my eyes open. I looked around, hoping again that this was a dream, but that hope was shattered by the piercing gaze of the warden, whose dark eyes were a knife at my throat and whose scowl was as cold as the walls of the cell. I had been in this hell long enough to know what that this meant, so I rolled off the hard surface that had become my bed and walked toward him until the only separation between us was the set of metal bars keeping me in. He told me to get my pencil out and begin writing. As hard as I tried to listen to the warden’s speech, all I heard was muffled gibberish, which became less and less discernible each time I nearly drifted off again. A pang of hunger struck me; the last time I had eaten was the night before with some of my prison mates, and the warden wasn’t planning on feeding us until after twelve. The worst part of it, though, was knowing that tomorrow would be the same thing: dozing off in class, not getting food, the rigid wardens, the tests and work. Tomorrow would be another day in jail, and I had to serve my sentence like all the others. See: Aluminum Foil, Courtyard, GPA, Grades, Teachers, Tertiary, Victims, Worry, Zoo

Late Nights Ms. Spencer never ran out of homework. Every night I sat on my bedroom floor for at least three hours, trying to understand what she had taught. I sat there crying one night before a test.

My tears dripped on the papers surrounding me.

I used to love science and biology, but I never thought I would grow to hate it so much. See: GPA, Grades, Shia La Beouf, Sleep, Teachers, Worry, Yesterday, Zombies, Zoo Laughing by Jocelyn Arbocus

Journey by Jessica Bun

Life by Jayla Davis

Kids They’re like infants running on campus at times.

Freshman… Several of them act so young, so wild and gaudy. Have I ever been one of them?

Admittedly, some pride and voice isn’t so bad but 55

Love by Gladis Hernandez

Morbid The wet smack of pale pink intestines sounded of a wet paper towel hitting the ground as they fell to the concrete below the corpse, snapping me out of my train of thought, focusing onto the sounds of every organ falling out of the carcass. The dull thunk of the stomach and the quiet slush of the liver pilling on top made me simply imagine what it was like to see the difference in animal and man getting eviscerated. I looked on to the corpse of a large swine from the barn not too far away from the workshop where I was in along with the others in the class. The tongue hung limp out of its gaping maw, lined with yellow and worn teeth, coated with a thick layer of scarlet blood, dribbling onto the porous concrete beneath it. As it swayed from the bulldozer where it hung, the tongue drew intricate patterns onto the grey concrete. After every jerking movement from the knife that plunged into the soft flesh of its torso by my hand, the trails grew thicker and darker with the blood and mucus that fell from its nose, leftovers from its short life. I carefully smiled as I was given the honor of disemboweling the swine, walking calmly and collectively to the corpse, ignoring the warnings spoken to me by the teacher. I raised the blade to my chest and plunged it into the soft flesh, dragging it downwards to its groin, watching the tight bushels of organ poke through the incision I had made. I rolled up my sleeves with my free hand and pushed my hand into the incision, gripping onto the loops of mucus covered intestines and tore them free of the thin and transparent membranes, scooping them onto the ground at my feet. I reached up into the ribcage and gripped the heart, twisting and pulling the organ free, dragging the knife around the thick arteries and tore it free. I pulled it to myself and smiled as I ran my fingers over the still warm organ, pulling away any left over membranes and stray veins as I slowly walked to the fridge to place the organ beside the others we had harvested from the last pig that was brought in. I placed it into the cold box hesitantly and turned back to the swine to continue my work, despite the looks of fear from my classmates. See: Choices, Shia La Beouf, Tertiary, Zoo

Memories It’s hard to believe that I’m a senior and senior year is going way to fast. The past four years have been amazing, I’ve made so many great friends and I feel that I have grown and changed so much. Before I was shy quiet and wouldn’t talk to anyone, now I can start a conversation with no problem. I’m happy I got to spend the past four years here at GJ. See: Band, Changes, Kids, Run, Sick, Smile, Soccer, Stuck Up, Teachers, Tertiary, Victims, X-RAY, Zoo Mitochondria The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.

Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.

People could drone on for hours about the mitochondria, looking back I could swear it was the only thing we went over in biology. It summed up my whole sophomore year. Mr. Thornton is a good man, and I was his favorite student but when it came down to the organelles of a cell, he was on Bobert’s Most Wanted list. M also stands for misery which described the whole month of breaking down the composition of the cells. And I don’t understand where prostitutes came in.

See: Courtyard, GPA, Grades, Online, Sleep, Teachers, Zombies

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Online The whole, if not 95% of GJs’ student body, is online on their phones any chance they see fit.

As I walked in the hallways, everyone is looking down at their phones, completely absorbed in the tiny, insignificant piece of machinery that they just so happen to live on as though it was oxygen.

Sometimes it’s annoying trying to get to class because everyone is walking like negative five miles an hour. See: Courtyard, Hot Air, Mitochondria, Stuck Up, Tertiary, Victims, Zoo

Sleep It’s beautiful and always there and ready to pull me into bliss. At 2:00 A.M., when I just get home, in my car, in one minute I set after my alarm wakes me up, when I’m at a friend’s house and I “eat” too much, it’s always there. It makes me the happiest. See: GPA, Grades, Late Nights, Mitochondria, Sick, Weight, Yesterday, Zombies Smile When I first got to George Jenkins, I saw this guy skipping down the hall with a large smile on his face. That is when I realized GJ might not be that bad if someone is smiling that much and skipping down the hall. Now that I am a senior, I know that the guy, who was smiling, was smiling for a good reason. This school has brought me friends that I can count on and helpful people here, as well. George Jenkins is the reason I smile at school because I get to see my great friends and my favorite teachers. See: Band, Courtyard, Memories, Tertiary, Zoo

Run On the field ready to go sitting back on the base, ready to break off. Waiting for the right moment to take off; getting that right moment taking off, sliding into the next base you hear “safe” as you pop back up ready to go again. You look at the coach for the sign, seeing if you can do it again; you set up once again. Taking off one more time, you run for your life. Sliding, they throw the ball over your head, your team screaming and your coach waving for you to get up and you get up and run once again. Taking your last step, your team runs to you as you just scored the winning run. See: Memories, Soccer, Weight, X-RAY

Soccer It’s the way you breathe. It’s the way your feet grazing the top of the ball. It’s the way your body feels as the adrenaline rushes through your veins. Seven long years, spent stepping onto the pitch and reaching my goals of going as far as I can with my soccer career. See: Memories, Run, Shia La Beouf, X-RAY

Shia La Beouf “DO IT…JUST DO IT! Don’t let your dreams be dreams. Yesterday you said tomorrow. SO JUST DO IT! Make your dreams come true.

JUST DO IT. Some people dream of success, while you’re going to wake up and work hard at it. Nothing is impossible… you should get to the point where anyone else would quit and you’re not gonna stop there. NO. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! DO IT! JUST DO IT! YES YOU CAN! JUST DO IT!...If you’re tired of starting over, stop giving up.” -Shia La Beouf See: GPA, Late Nights, Morbid, Soccer, Teachers, Victims, Worry

Stuck Up George Jenkins is a school full of selfish, stereotypical kids who try to be something they’re not. It’s almost a popularity contest between everyone. You won’t make it if you don’t dress like your parents make big bucks. You won’t make it if you don’t have an iPhone. Maybe that’s why they’re kicking me out of Florida. See: Courtyard, Hot Air, Kids, Memories, Online, Victims, Zoo

Sick Who is the child; that child laughing, sneezing and sounding as if she was behind the laugh of motley?!? Oh, that’s right, it’s me… It’s always been me laughing like a goose sometimes, blaring myself more than someone else. I’ve been as sick as your secrets for the past two years. See: Blizzard, Memories, Sleep, Tertiary

Teachers Tired and sometimes overworked. Misunderstood and sometimes hated. Competent or incompetent. Fair. Unfair. There are so many adjectives to describe so many teachers. They are unloved, unappreciated. I sat next to some 57

of them. Learned to understand some of them; their struggles to an extent. Some even have extra babysitting duty at home as well as after doing so at work. I love most of my teachers who care and try to care back; glanced at their computer screens, feverishly typing plans after a long night of little to no rest after caring for their little ones, or their own troubles at home. There are teachers who truly wish to see you thrive. Make sure their work does not go in vain. See: Bibliophile, Blizzard, Choices, GPA, Grades, Hot Air, Jail, Late Nights, Memories, Mitochondria, Shia La Beouf, Worry

Victims Trapped in a cage of words. Left alone to mull over my thoughts. Wondering how I got to the place I’m in. Why am I here? What’s the point?

The words thrown my way; left broken down inside of the impenetrable shell I hide in. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but they will heal. Words leave invisible scars in your mind to haunt you in your darkest hours. The feeling that your life is the equivalent of a small candle flickering in an abyss of darkness. Almost, almost, blown away to be forgotten… Then a light. This light guides you out of the dark hole that has consumed you and left behind an empty shell of who you once were. Light and brightness fills you; calm and happy. Remembering the past in which you forgot what happiness was and what it meant, like being locked in the dark and not seeing the sun for and then seeing it for the first time in a thousand years. One light made the darkness flee; to pull you into the embrace of warmth and light. This light soul has felt you pain once, and knew how to pull you back out.

The weight of the darkness lifts off your shoulders; you go back to who once were with protective armor wrapped around you along with a newfound strength. This strength is used to pick up others when they fall and break, just like an ancient vase dropped into the Grand Canyon.

Breaking from the cage you once were trapped in, all thanks to one, lone, light that decided to take a chance and save you, you remember.

Remember. Remember that point in your life, never forgetting: once you were a victim of the whiplash of hate people possess… But you survived. See: Changes, Hot Air, Jail, Memories, Online, Shia La Beouf, Stuck Up, Tertiary, Zoo

Tertiary I often feel tertiary when I look at other people and how they interact with their various friends and acquaintances, as if they weren’t swallowed back up by the universe as soon as their foot met the familiar frame of their front door. I can see people who would intertwine their lives with others, creating a beautiful mosaic of so many lives interconnected to form something bigger than them. I can imagine how it would feel to know I’m so closely tied into someone’s life, that it would cause a ripple effect onto others.

I can only imagine it—because I can’t feel it.

When I look back at my life, I never offered my heartstrings to anyone, and, as expected, nobody reached out in turn. I’m alone in the void I provided for myself, having been convinced that I was all I needed. How I felt—it changed.

See: Band, Changes, Choices, Courtyard, Jail, Kids, Memories, Morbid, Online, Sick, Smile, Victims, Zombies Travel by Camryn Locascio

Weight Weight is the feeling I get above my eyelids at 6:00 A.M. on a Monday. Weight is what’s in my backpack every time I sling it around my shoulders. Weight is what I push as soon as I get home and am ready to knock out. Weight is an excuse to have a sport going on after football that involves not running till you die. See: Courtyard, GPA, Grades, Run, Sleep, Worry, X-RAY

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Wireless by Linda Holt

Yesterday I woke up. I dozily drove to school and took a nap in my car. I slapped my happy rear-end in a hard cold plastic chair. I stare blankly at the projector screen as my Anal Funk teacher explains problems we’ve reviewed for weeks and tells his unfunny jokes. I leave to English where we struggle through Macbeth. Finally I enter Econ where my teacher bores and condescends us. I drive away prepared to do it tomorrow. See: Courtyard, GPA, Grades, Late Nights, Sleep, Zombies, Zoo

Worry As students, we push ourselves to the breaking points; we pull our self to the end. We worry about what class homework to do or what grades are dropping and rising. We are over-tested, we’re pulled in five different directions trying to do the impossible. We spend many sleepless nights completing assignments and going to schools, falling asleep in class because of it. We take risk on if we should try and complete an assignment when it is one or two o’clock in the morning and all you want is to sleep. We worry what will happen when you fail a test or how it will affect you.

As students, we worry about things that we aren’t meant to worry about just yet. We worry that we won’t be able to do the impossible, but really we shouldn’t worry until it is really important.

See: Bibliophile, Choices, GPA, Grades, Jail, Late Nights, Shia La Beouf, Teachers, X-Ray, Zombies

Zombies When the bus comes at 6:10 in the morning and you’ve already hit snooze 8 times in the last 30 minutes, you get up in the state of numbness. When you get to school you realize how lucky you were to wake up at 5:30 and dress yourself even if at first you forgot your pants. In the hallway you join the mass of morning, dull eyed zombies. See: Choices, Courtyard, GPA, Grades, Late Nights, Mitochondria, Sleep, Tertiary, Worry, Yesterday, Zoo Zoo This must be the largest, most diverse zoo I’ve ever visited, I thought, peering through the glass of each exhibit. There were so many different living species that I could hardly move between exhibits, and such that you’d never see the same species twice. Taped to the wall was a flyer for the zoo, reading “George Jenkins High School: Prompt, Polite, and Prepared.” Not to mention packed. Getting into or out of the parking lot was a daily struggle for the students, since at any point all the students were either trying to get to school on time or trying to get out. Normally, this might be plausible for such an institution, but there were so many students doing this that the school resembled the mall on Black Friday every day of the year. The variety of individuals at the school was remarkable, too; every species of student, every club and subculture, is present at the school. What a zoo indeed. See: Band, Courtyard, Jail, Kids, Memories, Morbid, Online, Petty, Smile, Stuck Up, Victims, X-Ray, Yesterday, Zombies

X-RAY X would stand for x-ray, because sophomore year I wanted to play softball, it always looked fun, so I wanted to try it out, The very first pitch my cousin pitched to me hit me in the ribs and from there it went downhill. I broke my ribs. For a few months I had to sleep laying on my back and every time I coughed I would wheeze, it was an awful pain that I wouldn’t wish upon anyone because it was horrible. So, I think what I am trying to say is that before you want to go and try out a new sport make sure you have some sort of idea of what you’re doing, because that’s where I went wrong. See: Choices, Memories, Run, Soccer, Weight, Worry, Zoo

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The Literati Literati noun: well-educated people who are interested in literature or the arts.

In 2014 The Literati started as George Jenkins High Schools literary club. Mrs. Holt, our club sponsor, brought together a group of students who all had a passion for literature. As the club grew, we found our purpose in bringing back what was once lost, the school’s literary magazine. We knew that it would not be easy and that it would take a certain level of dedication but we committed to making it become a reality and here we are, publishing in print the magazine again for the first time in 12 years. We did this together as a club, as a team, as a family. We are The Literati.

Literati 2016 by Kaitlyn Hosegood

Back Row: Rachel Dunn, Sommer Vick, Aliyah Watkins, Katie Childers, Lee Wall Front Row: Skylar Dees, Tayler Brown – Managing Editor, Bailey McArdle, Rose McCeldry – Secretary, Jesse Ready, Mrs. Holt – Club sponsor Members not in photo: Kristen Parks, Robert Crotteau, Jasmine Johnston, Kaitlyn Bartling, Shelby Webb.

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Our Sponsors: We wish to acknowledge the following partners whose

contributions and support make this magazine possible and student recognition a reality:

Trinity Greenscapes Edible Landscapes & Sustainable Design

Name: Chris Holt Owner Phone: 863-510-5693 Email: trinitygreenscapes@gmail.com Website: trinitygreenscapes.weebly.com

Hunter ~ Congradulations on your many accomplishments this year. A victorious year indeed! You are my greatest adventure and soon you will fly a wonderous journey of your own.

Love ~ Mom

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Special Thanks Many people contributed to making this magazine possible and we would like to thank them all. Thank you to the following people and organizations: Mrs. Holt - Thank you for sponsoring us, leading us, and mothering us. You have helped us all become better writers, editors, artist and people. This club is a family and you are both mother and father to it. Thank you for nurturing us and pushing us to become the best version of ourselves.

Mr. Walton - Thank you for going out in the community and raising funds so that this publication could escape the confines of the computer screen and come to life in tangible form.

Mrs. Bell - Thank you for sacrificing a Saturday afternoon to read through the rough draft of this magazine and find the errors we were blind to see. Also, as Head of the English Department, thank you for encouraging the rest of the department to support the endevours of the Literati club and this publication.

Mrs. Cravens -Thank you for not only sharing student art work with us but also your own pieces so that we may illustrate the pages of this magainze.

Mrs. Salas - Thank you for allowing us the tools, Adobe InDesign, to take a simple word document and make it into something so much great than where we started. Thank you for allowing us to use your computer lab to use Adobe Photoshop to adjust image resolution and make images in gray scale. Without your assistance this magazine would not be the quality that it has become.

Bodine Printing and Copy Center - Thank you for helping us through the publication process and teaching us the basics to publishing a magazine.

Advertisers – Thank you for believing in our vision and for your most kind financial support. A special thanks to Mrs. Linda Perez for her support of the Literati club, providing for us to make us a strong organization and for this magazine.

Our Contributors – Thank you for sharing a piece of your mind and heart with us and allowing us to share it with the community as examples of the talent that resides within the walls of George Jenkins High School. It is your unique vision brought to life in words and art that we celebrate and we could not have created this is not for you. Keep being the artists that you are and sharing it with the word. Yours is a talent that will live on within the bindings of these pages.

Our Administrative Team – Thank you for supporting the Creative Writing Class, the Literati Club and leading our school to excellence!

Buddy Thomas – Principal Tom Patton – Assistant Principal José Farinas – Assistant Principal Lacy Emmerling – Assistant Principal Kevin Robertson – Assistant Principal Diane Werrick – Dean Daniel Rawson - Dean Brad Hiers - Dean Erin Crosby – Dean 66

Index of Authors and Artists Student Works Adams, Tyler

A Place Untouched, poem, 6 Anglero, Samantha

Starfruit, poem, 50 Anglin, Tiffany

Sir Peacock, poem, 17 Arbocus, Jocelyn

Laughing, art, 55 Baker, Charleston

Dwelling of Seven Pernicious

Grievances, poem, 33 Bassett, Julianna Rose

Introvert, art, 54 Billups, Jessica

Stargazer, poem, 13 Bright, Eric

It Was Raining, poem, 37 Brown, Tayler

Curiosity, art, 13

Subterfuge, poem, 28

Deception, art, 28

Ace of Swords, art, 39

Doodle, art, 54 Bun, Jessica

Journey, art, 55 Burnett, Bill

Love Is Life, poem, 17 Chencinski, Maria

Whimsy, art, 11 Chirinos, Anna

Crushing Curiosity, poem, 7 Corelli, Marissa

I Regret It, poem, 33 Crane, Kimberly

To Be Involved, poem, 49 Crotteau, Robert

The Perfect Mermaid, short story, 38-41 Davis, Jayla

Life, art, 55 Davis, Jillian

Sunrise/Sunset, photography, 6-7

Babbling Creek, photography, 12-13

Pensive, photography, 15

Hibiscus, photography, 33

Kindergartner’s Play-doh, poem, 44

Cat’s Eyes, art, Inside Back Cover Fatima, Tazeen

The Truth of Islam, nonfiction, 47-49

Self-Portrait, photography, 48 Gaddy, Sarah

Words, poem, 8

Gadoury, Evan

Little R.E.D. Riding Hood, short story, 9-11 Galarza, Micah

Mad Hatter, art, Inside Front Cover

Nautical Star Doodle, art, 50

Eye of Justice, art. 43 Giddens, Ethan

Millennial, poem, 49 Godinez, Giselle

Newspaper Silhouette, art, 9

Swallow Tail, art, 37

Mirror, art, 45 Graham, Madelyn

On A Cold Blustery Day, poem, 14 Heatherington, Veronica

Drowning, poem, 27 Hernandez, Gladis

Love, art, 56 Herbert, Jacob

Future, poem, 33 Hosegood, Kaitlyn

Literati 2016, photography, 60 Kelley, Kaitlyn

Amicus (Sonnet 000), poem, 16 Kheder, Jasmin

Muslim, art, 49 Kurtz, Sydney

Language, poem, 8 Lancranjan, Cristina

Wonder, art, Outside Cover

White Rabbit, art, 1

White Rabbit (1-6), throughout

Sign Post, art, 4

Looking Glass, art, 20-21

Shush, art, 29

Shush, short story, 29-31 Lewis, Destiny

Tears, art, 25 Locascio, Camryn

Travel, art, 58 Macklin, Dylan

Dr. Martin Luther King Essay, nonfiction, 44-45

Hard Times, poem, 46 McArdle, Bailey

Letter from the Editor, 2

Keep it Hidden, poem, 26

GJ, photography, 51 McCauley, Delany

The Box, poem, 31 McCraney, Katherine

Little Soldier, poem, 34

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Meares, Madison

Mirror, poem, 45 Memmoli, Gabrielle

Hope, art, 51 Morris, Miranda

Jabberwocky, art, 3

Dark Jabberwocky, art, 26 Norgard, Sarah

Wonderlust, poem, 12 Norris, Brianna

Daydreaming, art, 51 Northup, Oryana

Abuelo, poem, 49 Phan, Nick

Indifferent Intentions,

poem, 34 Plummer, Courtney

Blood Thirsty, art, 36

Art, art, 52 Renna, Sarah

Home, poem, 15 Wall, Lee

The Field, poem, 27 Whaley, Alexis

The Beginning, short

story, 35-37 Williams, Tara Rose

Alex’s Adventures in

Wonderland, short story, 18-24 Wilson, Bailee

Perpetual Imprints,

poem, 16 Teachers Cravens, Kimberly

Untitled #1, art, 14

Untitled #2, art, 16

Untitled #3, art, 17

Untitled #4, art, 27

Untitled #5, art, 31

Untitled #6, art, 32

Untitled #7, art, 33

Untitled #8, art, 42

Untitled #9, art, 44 Holt, Linda

Cobra Mermaid, art, 41

Colophon Font for Headings - Hobo Std, font for standard text - Adobe Garamond Pro, signs post text- Viner Hand ITC. Bodine Printing and Copy Center of Lakeland, Florida published 200 copies of this magazine on 80 lb Gloss. The cover was printed on 100 lb Gloss and features the creative artwork of Cristina Lancranjan. The inside cover features The Mad Hatter by Micah Galarza and the inside back cover photography is by Jillian Davis.

The three subsections feature art by Cristina Lancranjan (Down the Rabbit Hole), Destiny Lewis (Pool of Tears), and Micha Galarza (Alice’s Evidence). The club photograph was taken

by Kaitlyn Hosegood.

Purpose Follow the White Rabbit is the 2015-2016 edition of George Jenkins High School’s Art Literary Magazine, the eighth in print since 1995. The magazine has been out of publication since 2004. The Literati are carrying on the tradition of excellence and originality in reviving this lost publication. We have brought together talents from students and teachers in the realms of art and literature to bring to life something new while respecting the work done all the years before.

As with any publication, the views express are not necessarily the views of George Jenkins High School, the editorial staff, advisors, or Polk County Schools.

Submissions Submissions are sent to Mrs. Holt, 19-212, in Freshman Academy. All worked composed in George Jenkins’s High School Creative Writing classes is considered for publication. GJHS Art Literary Magazine embraces every opportunity to publish the work of any student submissions, regardless of format or length. Students who are not enrolled in Creative Writing or Art classes are invited to submit their work for publication.

Rights All writing and art submissions are considered by the Literati editorial staff which chooses based on quality, appropriateness, relevance, and overall impact. Staff maintain the right to edit works for clarity and correctness. Original artists retain copy rights of their submitted work.

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