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Acknowledgements
For the Island Pacific Academy Literary Magazine
Class. We are wonderful writers, gathered together as one. How important of a role does time play in our lives? When does everything start to matter? The clock is ticking, but time is meausured by the moments in our hearts. I hope that throughout the years, your passion for the arts will never fade.
As you go through this collection, think of an adventure
in time.
Contents Annika Pangelinen Enchanted Snow
Kayla Economou We Live our Lives in Seasons
Brieanna Sundberg Day’s End
Erica Machida Time
Vivian Bentley Passing the Time
Gina Bacal Phases of my Life
Carly Button Untitled
5
Enchanted Snow By: Annika Pangelinan
We Live our Lives in Seasons By: Kayla Economou
We live our lives in seasons. And there’s something tragic about that. It’s fall. The world readies itself for those dead cold months ahead, nature fades out, and things come to their end. It is the start of the school year; a beginning surrounded by endings. The walk to school is more red and orange than it is bright. Sidewalks are covered with the pale gold of fallen leaves and the skeletons of trees seem glad to be rid of them. Everything is burning with their death and along the endless streets of suburbia are neatly raked piles of flames to be thrown out and discarded. Autumn is getting rid of things you don’t want. It’s winter. The ground freezes over and no one wants to go outside—it’s too cold. Windows are painted with the scenery of a careful artist where white blankets the barren earth outside and coarse trees dot the surface. The walk to school is now stark with lights and darks. All of the 2000 square foot homes enclosed within picket fences are closed and shut off in their own little hubs. Winter is disconnection. It’s spring. Slowly, the world heals and rejuvenates itself. Grass grows, flowers bloom, and trees sprout new leaves. It is a new beginning. The vibrant colors and warm sunshine make the last few walks to school effervescent. Vases of daffodils and tulips sit on window sills and dining tables, breathing life back into the neighborhood. Spring is waking up. It’s summer. The days are long and sticky with sweat. Hues of green and yellow and brown fill in. Lawns are freshly cut and the smell
7 of grass permeates the air. Nature outdoes itself, growing, stretching, and reaching until the upcoming months of static activity. There are no more walks to school. Summer is preparing for the end. The cycle then endlessly repeats. We are all fall, winter, spring, and summer. We live in seasons and the tragedy of that is that the changes in our lives remain the same.
Day’s End
By: Brieanna Sundberg
Time By: Erica Machida
Living in a normal, boring setting can open up ones perspective even greater than experience might allow. I learned this in a way that was not easy or hard. It just came. I was nothing more than a 5 foot 2 inch girl, measured 5 feet with a slight slouch. My build is slim, slimmer than many, but with no curves. I was literally a living stick of flesh and bones, barely any meat. Jet black hair cascaded over my shoulders and back like the way a small stream gracefully falls over a large pile of rocks. My bangs were the same; they were my curtains and walls from the world. My dark brown eyes found it more comforting to look through a screen of thin dark lines, instead of facing the world eye to eye. I was teased about it at first, but as time went on, those jeers and taunts became less and less. It wasn’t like I was bothered by any of them. But, still I wondered why. The thought of not being bothered, bothered me. It was obvious I was the ant under the shoe of my school, but why did it seem that they were the ants to me? If anything disturbed me, it would be that twisted image on humanity. And so, I began to do research, and those questions became my sole purpose for living. Around this time, a new group of classmates began to bring back my previous bullying. Every time every day, they kept throwing things at me, calling me names, putting tacks on my chairs. It was a little immature, even for them and I decided it would be best to just ignore. They couldn’t do anything more to interrupt my research for those mysterious questions that shaped my personality. That’s what I thought, but one faithful day, they proved me wrong.
9 I still remember entering the classroom, my heartbeat un-characteristically rising at the sight of my desk in shambles. Mixed in with the split and splintered wood, were books, many books turned to dust and ripped to shreds. They weren’t even mine, they belonged to the library, but it was undoubtedly my research they had just destroyed. The emotion that came to me was like nothing I had experienced in my life. It was like a burning flame overtook my brain and ate it. Everything became blurred around me, and my eyes for once, wanted nothing more than to stare back into theirs, and cause them the utmost pain and suffering and torture. I couldn’t find myself thinking straight as they laughed in glee. How ignorant. How stupid. I would say that emotions, is what you would call anger. I’m not quite sure what happened next. I found their smiles fading, and I realized that I had pushed my bangs out of my eyes, and began to intensely look into theirs. I watched as their young skin began to wrinkle and their eyes began to sink into their sockets. Once full hair turned into an oily mess of white and gray strands. They began to scream. I once again realized I was not disturbed by this; that disturbed me itself. My classmates couldn’t react at all. They just stood like statues paralyzed to the scene that was unreeling before them. I was ready to watch those bullies age to dust, until a dark figure encircled the scene. Everything froze, and the scene paused. I was the only one left animated to witness the figures revealing. In the mass of black ripped cloth, a large scythe came out, held by a hand of bones and a face of white. The skull looked directly at me, and I looked into the deep eyeless sockets. I still didn’t understand why I could not feel fear when that skull opened its jaw and let out a chilling laugh. “…so this is what has happened to you…it’s a shame death wasn’t kind to you at all...to put you in such a state it’s laughable.”
“…aren’t you death itself ? So you should only blame yourself for that.” I couldn’t admit I was confused, but somehow, I knew what that figure was. It chuckled again. “You misunderstand. I represent death, yes, but when a soul is released, it chooses who and what it reincarnates into. Even you have a soul. But, I guess you didn’t change that much after all. You don’t tremble before me at all. How annoying. It brings me back. Anyways, I came here because of these people.” The skeleton motioned towards the classmates I somehow aged with my anger. They were all still frozen, those screams of fear and pain were unmoved and I felt a little joy from the unexpected torture I caused them. “They were about to die. You were about to kill them. But, it wasn’t there time yet. Little girl…have you realized?” Death looked at me with a skull-like grin, I could sense something dark behind his soulless eyes. “You’re not like other humans. They look down upon you, but you look down at them in turn. You don’t know why, and you’re confused because you’re not confused. You have dedicated your life to understanding your meaning of living. So, for showing me your hidden potential and power, being able to kill those who are not on deaths list, I will answer your questions. You are the reincarnation of Time. Time was killed long ago, by my blade.” I could feel my eyes widen, and memories flooded into my head. A battle, the crumbling world, and pain. Grabbing my head, I feel to my knees and trembled. Death shifted closer, and I flinched. “Would you like to know why I killed your past self ?” He whispered coldly into my ear, the blood pounding in my veins almost drowned out his words. “It was for proving a hypothesis of mine. Time and Death are
11 both things that humans cannot grasp, but we are given a form that humans can comprehend. So, I wondered, would that allow us to die, and reincarnated? Centuries have passed, but I have never found Times reincarnation. Until now.” The bone-like hand ran through my hair. “So, now that I’ve found you time, why don’t we play a game? You find me, and kill me. I’ll find you again, and kill you. Time and Death have always never seen eye to eye. Either find me and kill me, or die by my hand.” With those words, Death began to fade into the background, wearing the most invisible grin. I could feel that burning in my head again, that emotion call anger and I screamed out, my eyes glaring daggers that so desperately wanted to pierce Death. But he was gone, and my class was back to normal, as if nothing had happened. My desk was no longer in shambles, and the teacher was in the middle of a lesson about the continents. I sat there for a while, listening to the recording of Deaths voice replay over and over and over in my head. Suddenly, it clicked. The emotion I felt wasn’t of anger. It was Hate. Death had answered my question, and had taken away my reason for living, implanting this hate as he did. I looked down at my hands that were trembling under the desk. Yes, he had taken away my first reason for living by answering my question…but had given me another. I had accepted my place as the reincarnation of time, and the image of death dying was something I so very much craved and hungered for.
Passing the Time By: Vivian Bentley
13 Phases of My Life By: Gina Bacal
I remember a mad dash towards safety. Being prey was not fun. I sat in the darkness of my burrow, waiting for the harpy eagle to stop circling my home. It sucked being at the bottom of the food chain−a rabbit. It cant be healthy being prey; having your adrenaline spike and drop all the time. I peeked out of the burrow. The eagle was gone. I took a few hops forward and stood on my back legs, scouting the area. Content, I set off to find food. The moment I lowered my guard, I found the lower half of my body inside the mouth of a wolf. In my next life, I was a wolf. In that life, I realized that the chase was more exhilarating than the run. The chase was my livelihood. A cold wind blew past me, winter was approaching. It was time to hunt. My nose led me to the scent of flesh. In an open field, I saw a beautiful sight, a lone elk. Elks don’t go into the open at this hour. Was it old? Sick? Abandoned? I didn’t care, it was food, and I couldn’t be picky. I crouched into a low stance and pounced. I licked the blood off my paws and stretched out. The elk was more than enough to last me two weeks. With a full belly, I stood up. As I turned to leave a searing pain exploded within me. I collapsed to the ground and the last thing I saw was the figure of a human. I am currently a human being. I sat in my house watching TV. What did I want for dinner? I had so much to choose from: meat, fruit, vegetables, takeout? The possibilities were endless. I just grabbed an apple
and continued watching the news. A surfer had been eaten by a shark, and the shark had been killed by fisherman. I turned off the TV. No longer hungry, I threw the apple away and began preparing for bed. Humans were the only creatures I knew that could fit in the bottom, middle or top of the food chain.
15
Untitled
By: Carly Button