Young Writers Camp 2018

Brave New Writers Young Writers Camp 2018

1

Where We’re From Junior Class I am from the heaven, I am from your angel in the sky, or your demon from the ground, I am from wrapping the perfect birthday present to duct taping my friends’ locker shut, I am from the familiar nerves of arriving in a new school, I am from the flickering streetlight or the leisure moonlight, I am from rooting under the couch cushions for change, I am used to the smell of blooming flowers, I am from people that love technologies and know everything about it, I am from gracefully gliding down ski trails, I am from Thanksgiving dinner on Styrofoam plates, I am from a place where times were once hard, I am from hearing the vows of my step-mom and dad, I am from the land and the sea, I am from all the good memories I have ever known.

Middler Class I am from roadside farm stands on the way to the shore, I am from humid days even in December, I am from hordes of mosquitoes descending on he who forgets his bug spray, I am from both the new and familiar flavors on the same faded tablecloths, I am from Goldfish never get old until they die, I am from, “Please stow your table and put your seat in an upright position” when landing in a foreign country, I am from hearing my mom nagging me to eat more, then later complaining how fat I am, I am from being the smart one, even though everyone knows the answer, I am from always pondering things that don’t seem to matter, I am from my best friend for just letting me be me and the challenges and problems I’ve faced to get to this point in life, I am from my friends, who stick up for me (and tell me when I need to shut up), I am from my brother who is with me through all my storms, I am from lying in bed at night thinking about everything and nothing.

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Senior Class I am from the place where decisions make everything, I am from climbing a pair of ancient beech trees so high, I am from city lights so bright you can’t see the stars, I am from the playgrounds where memories and bruises were created, I am from the taste of dry matzo from my family’s Passover Seder, I am from wind and wild hair, I am from the Blue Ridge Mountains right outside my bedroom window, I am from townhouses next to creeks and roads lit by streetlights, I am from the acronyms, I am from trying to make everything work, I am from learning not everyone will like you, but not everyone matters, I am from wanting to quit, but remembering what I am capable of.

Teacher: Michele Poacelli Junior Class: Kyle, Nicole, Sissi, Nancy, Jimmy, Michele, Ryan, Denis, Julia, Tess, Katie, Norah, Olivia, Cicy Middler Class: Michele, Alexis, Abe, Blake, Amina, Daniel, Erica, Sena, Daphne, Chelsea, Russell, Ella, Emma Senior Class: Logan, Michele, Lexi, Jiayi, Eden, Shelby, Emily, Eric, Vivian, Marcellus, Abbie, Jessica

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Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest Frank Betkowski’s nonfiction class participated in the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, a contest dedicated to challenging writers to write the worst opening sentences to imaginary novels. Below are some of the best of the worst.

Sena Weaver The dark, raging oceans clapped against the shore of the sandiest sand, like the song ‘If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands’ had been playing on an infinite loop for eons and was now resulting in the severely dangerous rocks that hung over Laura’s perfectly perfumed elven head.

Cicy Chen “Call me……AYEAH!” I try to make it sound as if I were yelling a war-cry as something sharp dug into my back, forcing my knees to buck and making me fall, as I struggled to keep my balance, hoping that I could pinch myself and wake up, as I was introducing myself to my dream ship’s captain, trying hard to make a good impression, although dying or fainting in front of him wasn’t making much of an impression, as he just raised an eyebrow, while I saw the hint of a small smile playing on his lips.

Emily Gohn I say it’s true love - knowing his favorite subject, watching him hang out with his friends every Friday night, knowing where he sits in the lunchroom every day - but all my friends say it’s stalking.

Norah Copenhaver We held hands and cuddled under the moonlight; it was peaceful and romantic, until something made a disturbing noise and started to smell; then, you know, it just got real awkward.

Sena Weaver It was her—or at least he was pretty sure it was her—honestly, the picture looked a disturbing bit like his old Aunt Rose, who always made the most delicious dinner on Christmas, even if it was a bit garlicky, but hey, who was he to judge?

Tess Koontz It was a dark and stormy Halloween night, and Jayson hid himself in his room as he tried to overlook all of the blood on the ground outside his door, which he had thought to be from countless street murders, but was in fact just from numerous trick-or-treaters slipping and falling on his slick driveway.

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Katie Li Even though her desperate scream for help could be heard a mile away, no one came to her aid, but despite the selfish gesture of everyone else and her own worsening state, she continued to hold onto the little hope that remained in her as she fiercely tried to free her hand from the Pringles can.

Olivia Mei I had fallen madly in love with a certain somebody; ever since I found her, she has been the love of my life; her name’s Carla; I take her out on a ride everyday; she waits for me after work; she’s my beautiful Tesla.

Blake Simpson I’m going to tell you a story—actually it’s more like a series of vignettes about different characters and the events leading up to a murder (that was actually committed by the butler), but that’s neither here nor there—about a gruesome and mysterious murder.

Jiayi Wang All of a sudden Lenny feels blood drip from his nose; he curses to himself, hoping the bars of the shark cage will be strong enough.

Sena Weaver His name was Hshadafadack Roramorqzis, but let’s face it, you just shortened that to Chad.

Olivia Mei I screamed in despair, I felt devastated; my lover had died, my one and only—the three worst things happened to my sweetheart. He had lost Wifi, then service, then battery… my phone is dead.

Sena Weaver The classroom was silent, except for the bone-chilling scream that sounded like when Kevin the cat was brutally murdered by his sadistic little brother, Gary, who had yet to outlive the murder stage.

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Dishonorable Mention, Vile Pun Category Jiayi Wang Hannah had always been an inventor, but making a belt out of watches was just a waist of time.

“Grand Panjandrum’s Special Award” Sissi Li That night, detective Sophie was frustrated, like when you are eating a carton of yogurt and there’s some yogurt on the lid that you want to lick off the lid, but you can’t because people are watching you and licking yogurt is not polite, so instead you just throw the lid with yogurt on it in the trash, but then you think of yourself wasting food while kids in Africa are starving; at last you feel so guilty that you pick the lid out of the trash and lick it.

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Just Reflect Shining bright in the farthest night, Distant attempt at dissidence.

Sweet moon, keep me in your light-- oh don’t take flight!

I don’t love you but I need you.

Sleeping now, please do keep Mine in your mind.

I might shiver; I might wiggle Might cry... might call out “fie” You don’t need to respond!

Just keep reflecting in my pond.

Sena Weaver

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A Chapel’s Beauty The beauty of the chapel, Is a question often asked, The answer now clear, To eyes that used to be covered.

The beauty of a chapel, doesn’t lie In the glass With hidden messages inside Nor the stone Carved smoother than glass Or the music, More delicate than I Or metalwork, Bent and curved so fine Or decoration, With colors that shine It is the people inside, with a passion, and a love For the holy Lord above.

Olivia Mei

8

Reached Prayers Norah Copenhaver Told From the Perspective of Juniper Wallabee.

Everyday, I go to the Chapel on Mercersburg campus and pray. It is calming and inviting, intricate, and interesting. I pray for much peace in the world, I pray for all whose lost someone or something recently or even a long time ago. Mostly, I pray for my husband, Atticus, who died in a severe car wreck about one year ago. I miss him so and I miss taking long walks in the crisp morning breeze, and I miss chasing down lightening bugs in the evening. He meant so much to me and what made me so incredibly happy is when he answered my prayer. I prayed that he is watching over me and for peace to come throughout the world. He answered by saying “He is protecting me and all that is well.� I felt that he was with me right at that moment. That we were holding hands and staring deeply into each other's eyes. From now on, I feel like a completely different person and I feel safe and well-cared for.

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Lights The light fills the window panes with a gentle midday blue.

The panes joyfully deliver the light to us as we bathe in the summer hue.

The plants jut out like fence posts, stretching out their green arms and hands.

They aren’t greedy, however, they need to take in as much as they can.

The shades block the top of the window leaving the shadows to roam outside, While our table is painted with fluorescents that fill our dilating eyes.

We gaze mindlessly at our computer screens, filled with a blue once unknown.

The window panes weep mournfully as we forget the light that once shone.

Blake Simpson

10

Adjusting the High Jump Bar Jessica Lian I’ve always hated failing. Ever since I was little, failing was never an option. My parents always told me that it was okay to fail, but those words just never registered with me. Failing made me feel defeated, like I wasn’t able to come back from my mistakes. It made me feel useless, like I messed everything up. I was always considered a pretty smart kid, especially in math. My parents made me go to so many extracurricular classes. I guess I have to thank them for that. These classes put me ahead of everyone else, and they helped me feel better about myself. However, this extra boost in my education made me unaccustomed to failure. People told me, everyone will fail at some point in their life, but I always thought that I would be the exception, that I wouldn’t fail.

I soon realized that this would not be the case. When I stepped into my middle school on the first day, I imagined myself standing out in the class, getting A’s on every test without a single mistake. I set high expectations for myself, hoping that I could reach my goals. I soon realized that my grades weren’t as high as I expected.

My friends would tell me, it’s okay as long as you have an A, but I expected more out of myself. Therefore, I pushed myself to get the best grades, and when I didn’t, I would not be happy. Frustrated with myself, I would give up on everything I’d been working on. When I got a C on a simple math test, I went home and crumpled the paper in rage; I never wanted to see it again. Luckily, my family and friends helped me through this frustrating event.

Since then, I learned that it’s okay to become frustrated, as long as you’re able to get back up again. Supportive friends and family are really helpful in these situations, and I’m very lucky to have both. I’ve learned to put less pressure on myself and to realize that no one can be perfect. Although it may seem like some people have no troubles, everyone has their own little something to struggle with.

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Where I’m From I am from my mother’s scolding A brother who teased and taunted And was quite annoying I am from freshly laundered sheets And the noise of family karaoke beats I am from Cookie the cat Who follows me around As if I were a rat I am from a place where times were once hard The sound of my mother’s crying that broke my heart For the sound of her father’s voice had ceased to be Leaving her fatherless, and quite unhappy Spiced soaked duck, tea eggs, and fried rice too I come from a home where I’m constantly told That I shouldn’t get a lover ‘till I’m 18 years old I come from a house where my legs must be together Sitting properly like so, no matter the weather I’m also asked “Are you hungry?” all the time As if not eating food was considered a crime My dad always rushed me when waking up 10 minutes later and he might blow up I am from a place where arguments occur Which makes me pray to God That more will not stir I became tough because of my brother Because I no longer feel hurt from the insults of others I am from a place where days aren’t always great

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But my friends were always there for me, taking off my weights I reside somewhere where I still need to grow For there is still a lot of things that I do not know But for now I can relax, knowing everything’s okay ‘Cause it will be, even if my problems never go away

Katie Li

13

Olympic Racer Julia Lian Ever since I started walking, I have been skiing. There is no other activity that exists that can compare to skiing. Well, maybe I am a bit biased, but skiing really is the best sport on the planet. As you race down the hill, you will feel the cold wind beating against your face. You will feel like an Olympic skier. All your stress will be let away. All your troubles will disappear. Everything holding you back is gone.

When you ski, the sky is the limit. It is the closest you can get to flying. Gliding gracefully down the mountain lifts every weight that was ever on your shoulders off. When you get tired, you can collapse into the fluffy glistening snow under you.

When you get off the mountain you can enjoy a warm cup of hot chocolate and watch the scenery of the distant birds flying through the slopes. My cheeks are red, my finger and my toes are freezing. I am wet, I am cold, yet I still wish to return to the mountain. I don’t want to leave this superpower I am experiencing of flying. I want to stay and continue to race through all the trails. There is only one negative to skiing. The day will end. Every time you get to enjoy this astonishing experience, you also have to leave. This heartbreaking moment will break down your day, until you plan another trip! Then you will be more excited than ever, and you will dream about that alluring resort, where you got to fly away on the mountain. Without skiing, my perfect childhood would not exist.

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Bāng bāng wǒ Dean Smith They came late to camp, two shy Asian kids, twins. Identical except for their watches. We promised to take special care of them since this was their first residential camp. “Yes, Mrs. Chen, we’ll watch over them. We’ll make sure they wear life jackets. No scary movies. They’ll be fine. Yes, Mrs. Chen, we’ll call you if they get homesick or if there are any problems or if they get hurt – but they won’t. They really will be okay,” I said with a reassuring nod.

They were young, maybe the youngest kids we’ve ever had at camp, so we let them push their beds together and keep a light on. Maggie, the director, even had to hold their hands when we lit the sparklers, and all was well.

And that’s about the time the three of us got stuck in the elevator. At first I was a little confused, but it didn’t take too long to realize that something was wrong. I tried pushing buttons: the floor above, the floor below, the door open button but nothing happened. I tried to call security on the emergency phone, but ended up having a nonsensical conversation with a woman from the Philippines who assured me that my ride would be there soon with a hospital car.

We eventually got out, but I’ll never forget the wide-eyed look on their face. I tried to assure them with a quick smile and a shrug. But they were to have none of it. They tried slapping the emergency alarm with a fury, but everyone in the building had left to go to dinner. Then they started screaming. They banged on the doors, and screamed for help and then screamed for their parents. Or maybe they were swearing at me, but I’ll never know because I don’t speak Mandarin.

15

A Nondenominational God My father grew up without religion.

He died without it, too.

He didn’t leave behind A prayer book or bible Or a plastic statue of praying hands.

But he did leave behind a legacy For he was a caring man Who would roll up his sleeves And lend a helping hand To a family homeless – Lessons no catechism can teach.

He worked with like-minded men Who would come together And clean up after Katrina.

He would aid a stranded stranger Or pick up a crying child Just to whisper “My, my, little man, Everything’s going to be okay.”

Amina Ford and Dean Smith

16

The Ocean The ocean forces me To feed her, and I do not agree, But she is like my mother So I sing every night, For her, So she can feast.

Siren’s Lament I watched the deceiving souls as They bathe in the blood of their victims, Singing a song no one can escape.

I pity the mortals, For, they have an unavoidable death, The titan couple’s child watches, And never acts against the wicked tails.

But neither can I, not a god or goddess Meddles in a mortal’s business, But as the goddess of the hearth, I cannot feel angry.

Instead wanting to give the pitied creatures Love they do not deserve

Olivia Mei

17

MY FIRST TIME BEHIND THE WHEEL Fear gripped me as hard as I gripped the steering wheel.

Brake.

I knew most of the cars in this lot where probably more expensive than the first 3 years of my life.

Brake.

The imprints of my palms would probably be there for the next 2 hours.

Brake.

“Just to the empty spot.” my Mother said, but I couldn’t find meaning in those words. I was too close to the right...left! Speed bump ahead. Yellow Hummer. Blue Mustang.

Brake.

Over the speed bump. I can visibly see the parking space now. The car barely moves more than 5 miles an hour. But to me, I’m the head of a high speed chase.

Brake.

Only feet away now. When will I crash? This, in my mind, was a matter of when.

Would it be here? A little more? How much damage?

Brake.

“Ok.” Mother says, one hand on the wheel, one hand nursing her nape of her neck, raw from the lashing I just gave it.

“Mom?” “Yes, Marcellus?”

“I’m never doing that again.”

Marcellus McKenzie

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growing up is hard to do Eden Cooperman I don't understand it, any of it.

Why we were so eager to grow up when everything was easier when we were younger?

The only thing we were afraid of were scraped knees or getting caught passing notes to the boys or girls in our class that we thought were cute. We only were mad about not being able to reach the top shelf where our parents hid candy that we would chip our almost fallen out teeth on. Only caring if one of our friends beat another in a game of tag. And, the worst feeling was when one of our favorite shows was on tv and we wouldn't be able to watch because our mothers and fathers were calling our names for dinner. Now, we worry for the college acceptance letters that we so desperately want to see in our email inboxes. Now, we get mad if our friends post a picture of a party that they went to and we weren’t invited to.

Now, we only care about keeping our snapchat streaks with our friends because that is true dedication in our minds. And now, we ask. We ask to be kids again.We ask to go back to a simple time when nothing else mattered, Only the wish we had to just grow up already.

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The Coffee House Pastries and coffee Where young writers camp Will go to share their poetry.

People will listen and learn As the camp uses poetry With twists and turns.

The coffee house will Listen from far and beyond As the young writers camp Has poetry with a bond.

Ryan Burick Coffee Household I go to Huggamug Cafe For open heart surgery, To be laid bare Because that is the way of healing.

Wounded souls stir Sweet milk coffee To turn away the bitterness.

Ryan Burick and Dean Smith

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Sena Weaver

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A Buttercup Dance Once I was a seed, Hidden beneath soil, Then a small sproutling Leaves covered with ice, But somehow, I managed to live.

The spring dew comes, Covering my new grown petals.

Gusts of wind blow me away, But I dance to an unknown tune, Till I reach the ear of a little girl, and her mother singing the unknown song.

Olivia Mei

22

Pushing Up Daisies Dean Smith I love gardening. I love the smell of the soil, the warmth of the sun. I even love working in the rain. It softens the soil making it easier to dig and dig and dig. It helps when pulling up those pesky weeds which come out more easily from damp soil. Pesky, pesky weeds, like Horace, who lives next door in a godawful-ugly brown house the color of dead leaves. He’s always looking over the fence that divides us, complaining about the forsythia whose branches shoot out madly in all directions, their blooms withering and dying too soon. Or the wisteria that creeps across the top of the fence and reaches out and grasps onto anything in its way. He even threatened to cut down my butternut tree because he didn’t like the spiky pods all over his lawn. The nerve! Which is why I come to my garden. It’s my haven. I especially love my compost. It’s almost poetic. The dead and dying bringing new life to all of my lovely plants, just like Horace. Pesky, pesky Horace.

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This Is Just To Say I just had to eat the steak that was on the floor It was just so juicy and tender luckily it was not a fake steak forgive me it was so sizzly and so hot

Coral and Ryan Burick

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Half-Baked Eric Liu The door shuts, leaving me in darkness. Everything feels cold and sterile. But then, it happens. The platform starts moving. The timer starts, ticking down to my certain demise. 120 seconds, 100 seconds. I’m feeling a gentle warmness inside.

But the gentle flicker of warmth inside me soon becomes a searing, unrelenting pain eating me up from the inside. 80 seconds. 60 seconds. My blood and organs boil, my skin stretching to give room for them. Everything is agony, everything is pain. 40 seconds. 20 seconds. My skin is stretched even more, in some parts, even blackened. Every part of my body is on fire. 10 seconds. 5 seconds. Through the door, I see Him. There is no escape now. I will die like the rest. 0 seconds. The machine creates a shrill cry, alerting me that the end is upon me, and Him that I am ready. The door is open.

“Man, I can’t wait to enjoy this lasagna.”

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To Forget We sit in a rickety bus That drives on an endless road, With the windows closed, And the lights on.

Our memories Fog up the windows from within, Some comforting us Some hurting us We acknowledge them But only so we can Wipe them away.

We don’t know how To differ the good and the bad Because they will cloud our vision All the same, Blinding us, Confuse us.

But sometimes When the pattering rain Disappears And new memories are made The sun will come out And the rainbows will emerge.

Emma Song

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body positive Eden Cooperman This wasn't the first dressing room panic attack I’ve ever had. It felt as if I had stared at my reflection for hours. The dress was wrapped tightly around my waist, refusing to rise any farther no matter how much I tried to make it. I was uncontrollably clenching my jaw to the point that my teeth started to throb. I knew that if I let my tears pour down my face then the mascara I had put on only a few hours earlier would run. I had spent over thirty minutes trying on all different types of dresses, unable to decide which one made me look the skinniest. My mom sat outside the dressing room on her phone scrolling for accessories that she assured me would make my outfit “complete.” We only had two days left until my cousin’s graduation and every minute counting down to the day resulted in another pillow covered with saliva from screams filled with broken promise that I made to myself every day: “Only eat it if you need it,” a promise broken almost as soon as it was made. I placed my hand over the love handles on the sides of my wide hips to try to visualize what it would look like if I didn’t have them. But no matter how much I sucked in my stomach, turned for a better angle, or even lifted my chin up to try to mask the fact that I had a very visible double chin, I could still see the cellulite peeking through on my waist and thighs. I tried to sit down on the little stool in the corner of the dressing room to catch my breath, but the dress was so tight around my waist that if I tried even to breathe, my seams would rip.

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An Excerpt from The Apocalypse Nicole Gorberg Chapter Two: Chasing Beasts Now you have to stop this creature.

Your heart beats in a quickening pace and a scream lodges itself in your throat.

“Child… run-” You turn to him but notice that he vanished.

"ROSE!" A man shoves you into the forest floor.

“Thorn?” You open your eyes in shock and see Thorn, your old friend who “died.”

And yet, here he is, alive, after all those years.

“Rose...” Thorn leans in, but you push him away.

“Thorn, not now. I can’t. I need to find the children.” You put your finger on his lips. “Later.”

He takes your hand, smiling, but you see tears in his eyes.

“All right. But we will do this later.”

You smile and nod, looking over his shoulder to see the dead beast.

“I have guards.” Thorn slips slim phone into your hands, “Use this to find me.”

“I’ll do that...” You ruffle his hair the way he hates and run off. …

When you reached your meeting place, you were a little confused. There was a black tunnel, one you couldn’t see the end of and iron rods slammed down on the floor from a million years ago. The walls were etched with detail and the moss shaped like demons running up and down them. You could sense an undead stench and the only remaining growth in the world. Cold air rushed upon you and for the first time you looked up to see a blackened sky and rocks splattered with green.

Unknowingly, you tensed and held the children back. No one. Grips left your hand and the children ran off, you would chase them later. The tunnel was motionless and nothing was coming from it. And then you heard it.

Cha-chink. Cha-chink. Cha-chink.

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You ran your hands along the wall, every little crack and point became knowledgeable to your hands, and the moss on the ground squished under your feet. Glass crackled as you stepped across and knelt down to see how old the tracks were. “Goodness, this really is a million years old.”

Cha-chink. Cha-chink. Cha-chink.

“Who’s there?” You whip around to see a man standing with a sly grin slit across his face and a long red gash streaking across his eye.

To Be Continued…

29

Snow Globe White fluffy flakes Fall from the beautiful clear sky.

Clean layers of fresh snow covers The world like a blanket.

The sun shines down onto the snow As it glistens and sparkles.

The air smells clean, Like freshly washed cotton sheets.

The enchanted scene is silent and peaceful, I spin and dance, Admiring the beauty of the universe.

Finally, I drop into the glittering snow, Making an angel Admiring the marvelous pale blue sky.

Snow covers my cold red face, And I open my mouth to eat some snow.

The snow falls right into my mouth perfectly, each unique snowflake melts in my mouth, For I am in a living snow globe.

Julia Lian

30

The Towering Princess A princess in a tower wonders why, She is a flower in a bubble, an eye who cannot see.

Why she is different from you and me.

The princess doesn’t need a tower to protect her from harm.

She needs an outstretched arm to show her how to protect herself, She needs to learn how to reach the top shelf.

Don’t shield her from life and death, Put her in a field and let her run.

She needs to learn and have fun.

The princess will still be a princess after the storm, She can fill her heart with hopes and dreams.

Let her think and say what she means.

Amina Ford

31

Watch Duty Logan McClure June 10th, 1914.

Staring off into space once again, Ashley comes back into my mind. She must be having a hard time at home with the children. “Hey, Uncle Sam, cough it up.” Returning to the world of reality, I see that we’re still in the bunker. I ante up as Danny passes out the cards.

Whenever we have spare time, gambling is the only real fun. I look up at the clock. 11:00 PM. “Oh man, I gotta go!” Slamming down the cards, I start out the door, receiving a “See you, Yank!” Guess the French aren’t real big fans of us Americans. Outside the hut, the breeze blows past. It’s a nice night out tonight, not too bad for watch duty. Walking through the trenches, I reach the guard post, a concrete bunker with slits for windows. Even though it’s one of the most important jobs, it’s not any real fun. You sit around making sure no soldier makes a run for it across No Man’s Land. Picking up the sniper rifle, I start my shift.

The land below is mostly barren--no signs of life except for the destroyed vehicles and decaying bodies. Unburied, left by their comrades, maybe even forgotten by their families.

It’s so sad, these brave men who fought for their beliefs are now lying belly up, mutilated by war. Yet, that is exactly what I’m doing here. Being the first line of defense for my country.

In the mute moonlight shining through the clouded sky, movement catches my eye in the corner of my field of vision. A runner, a deserter, a man who can’t face the horrors of war anymore. Although the truth is depressing, I’m required to do my job. Slowly, the stock of my gun rises to my shoulder. Aiming in the scope, I see the man wears only his uniform and fear upon his face. Drawing in my breath, I zero in the crosshairs on him and…

A crack like thunder rolls across the sky, me as its source. Almost immediately the man falls down, no longer a healthy body. Sliding the bolt, the shell of the bullet ejects, smoking. One shot, one kill. One little piece of metal taking away a man’s life. The gun comes down from my shoulder, a machine made purely to harm. After checking the horizon, there’s no one else running. No noise, no sound at all. The quiet is deafening.

Reaching into my pocket, three things come out. A picture of the family I was drafted from, a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes. Seems like the only thing that can calm me down. I smoke

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and reminisce for a while, hoping that my family will be alright when I come back. If I come back. Who knows anymore. Maybe one day I will be like that man, now lying dead on the ground. I believe that that is number 30, the thirtieth man I’ve had to shoot on guard duty.

The more you kill, the less human you become. The world is quiet now, showing the old peacefulness that covers the land. The moon, peeking through the clouds, shines a pale gray upon the barren land. Checking the clock, I see the time- 1:45. Reaching for another cigarette, the pack falls to the floor. Empty, without a purpose. I toss it into the pile, letting it join its comrades. As I keep watch, sleep tries to cast its spell on me, but I have to stay awake. Only 15 more minutes to face.

Since no official really cares, I practice my shot on certain targets- an old lantern, a helmet, a small puddle. After reloading, I spot a grenade and aim to shoot it. But the object next to it knocks the wind out of me. My slaughtered unit. The unit that I joined with my friends, fighting for the greater good. We were part of the PALS first battalion. We looked for adventure away from home and expected happiness, yet here we are. I’m the one alive and they’re the ones dead. Why. Why me, I ask, why am I still alive and not them? I can’t look away, their mutilated bodies enthralling my attention. As I sit there staring, I think about my life at home. How it was so much better than an adventure plagued with constant fear and suffering. Looking up, I say to God, “Please dear Lord, if i survive this, I promise I won’t ever take my family for granted again.” With hope in my heart and sorrow on my mind, I look at the clock on the wall. Time, 2:00. I return the supplies for the next guard and leave, preparing for the next day.

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All I’ll Ever Know Blake Simpson Often I catch myself winding down a rabbit hole of information above a glowing back button on my smartphone screen. I begin to forget what lies behind that thin blue line. A name leads to a place, a place to an event, and an event to a concept.

Curiosity is incredible. It fosters creativity, free thought, and intellectuality.

However, when something is designed to suck you in, the lines get blurred.

I find myself imprisoned by the walls of Wikipedia, saturated with information, grinding my teeth at every new link. I’m fascinated, but I’m also overwhelmed. I should be learning from teachers I trust. I could be exploring the parts of a camera, or reading book, or even just watching the animals dance around my yard, but I’ve trapped myself inside a phone screen to learn from people who are just as trapped as I am. I want to put it to rest and nail down the lid of the coffin, but I can’t leave without knowing everything. I have to take in as much detail as possible, minute or massive. I can’t seem to shake the feeling that there’s something wrong if I don’t.

There shouldn’t be anything concerning about my fascination. I love school, I love art, and I get good grades. This is different, though, and I feel it every time.

Eventually I have to will myself to overpower it, close the app, and look out the window. The reason this cave feels so claustrophobic is because I know how free it feels when I climb out. A highway tunnel doesn’t seem dark-it seems wondrous until you reach the end.

When I’m in the cage of blue links, names, and dates, I begin to block out my favorite things. A pale blue sky is an obstacle making my screen hard to read and a bridge is simply just part of the road instead of a vista for the perfect view of the horizon. The camera app sits so close to Safari, and yet I ignore the opportunity to capture a perfect moment. I soak up the information like a sponge and squeeze it out on the nearest person, who’s probably wondering if I’m even myself.

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I was never meant to learn in between walls closing in on me. I was meant to knock them down . If I don’t start learning the way I’m meant to the cold, dark rabbit hole will be all I’ll ever know.

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A Bird’s Life

Daniel Zhong

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Memories Fade Memories pass like autumn leaves fall, Waltzing with the breeze of prior joy, Warbling to the tune of simpler days.

Memories fade akin to how leaves fall, And lose their vibrant color.

Akin to how they fade and are forgotten.

But are they really? Truly, forgotten?

There will always be another autumn leaf to remind us of years before.

There will always be another memory to remind us of former happiness.

No, memories aren't forgotten, They are simply tucked away.

Waiting for another crisp fall to rustle them awake.

Alexis Ashley

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Clouds As the sun rises The earth sheds her disguisesLooks up, and waits for day’s surprises Clear blue as the sky Nothing yet will fly Then a small curly puff of white goes by More clouds join in The cumulus kin They float through the air like the vapor within “A turtle, cliff, or tree For as you can see, No one can shape shift as good as we.”

Then the cumulous are chased away For another cloud, has come to stay For now, the cumulonimbus will play It sallies forth Like a dark horse Then stops in its place, to take its course Lightning flashing Wind lashing Thunder above continues crashing Rain pouring Earth snoring Her pores drinking in muddy glory

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Storm halts Cloud vaults Away, leaving earth to look like chocolate malt Sky clears Everyone hears The sound of silence rushing in their ears High above the ground Looking down, A cirrus cloud can always be found Feathery wings A cirrus brings Looking around for ideas to sing Mythical creatures A cirrus features Dragon, phoenix, up in the bleachers.

Sun is setting Clouds are heading To colors, getting covered in bright netting Starry night sky Full moon is high Clouds towers absorb her light as they fly.

Shelby Herrold

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HACKER 101 Cicy Chen “Can you believe this guy? Like seriously!” Madison was complaining again. Kelly groaned.

“Really, Madison? Stop complaining! It’s just a stupid comment! Besides, the videos on your YouTube channel aren’t all good, and not everyone may like them.” Madison frowned at her.

“Fine, whatever.” Kelly rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Madison is always complaining. Why does being friends with her have to be so hard? “Hey Kelly, did you hear me?” Jake, Kelly’s friend, snapped Kelly out of her thoughts. “Oh, sorry. Can you repeat what you said?” Jake rolled his eyes. “I asked, did you finish your video assignment yet? We were supposed to make a video and post it on your channel.” “Oh, that! Of course I did!” Jake laughed. “Of course you would’ve did it. Your channel, KRAZY KELLY, is a hit!” Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be sarcastic.” Then, going back to her desk, Kelly opened her computer.

Ms. Hedgerow, the science teacher, wrote one word on the blackboard. “I have written the word ‘fly’ on the blackboard for a reason. Can someone define it?” Marie, smarty-pants and goodytwo-shoes, shot her hand into the air. Ms. Hedgerow, more than a little tired of Marie, steadfastly ignored her. “Yes, Kelly?” “1. Moving through the air with control. 2. Move or be hurled quickly through the air. 3. Wave or flutter in the air, referring to hair. 4. A type of bug.” “Very good, Kelly. Now, I chose to put fly because we humans can’t do it. Typically, we could, but we haven’t found a way to do it yet. So today we are going to brainstorm ways to fly.” After a good 20 minutes, the bell rang for recess, everyone rushing out of the room. …

After school, Madison went over to Kelly’s house. Madison, opening her channel, shrieked suddenly. “What, Madison? Another freak commented wrongly?” Madison shook her head violently, pointing a shaking finger at her computer screen. Kelly scraped her chair over, peering at the screen. On it was the words, backed in a dizzying green: YOU ARE NOW UNDER CONTROL OF HACKER 101!

“Oh no, Madison!” “What?!” came Madison’s muffled reply. “You… Madison?” Kelly turned around to see a scared Madison hiding under the bed. Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Really, Madison? Ugh. I was saying that you’ve been hacked by some guy called Hacker 101, okay?”

Madison’s eyes widened. “S-so you’re saying the-that I’ve b-been h-h-hacked?!”

Kelly let out a huff, flopping onto the bed. “Yes! Madison, you’re such a wimp sometimes!”

Now Madison looked angry. “Well, guess what, Kelly! If you think that, we’re not friends anymore!” With a ‘humph’, Madison stormed out of the room. Kelly chased after her, saying “Okay! Geez! Madison, I’m sorry, okay? Please say we’ll stay friends!” Hearing this, Madison stopped. Kelly, right on her heels, slammed into her, not expecting the sudden stop. “All right.”

Kelly heaved a sigh of relief. Keep your cool, Kelly. You’ll get used to Madison and her silly little ways. Turning on a smile, Kelly said “Great, Madison! Let’s go back to my room and finish

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our assignment. I’ll make you a Nutella sandwich, ‘kay?” It was easy to get around Madison.

Madison smiled. “Okay, Kelly!” …

“AAAAHHHHHH!” Screams rang in Kelly’s ears as soon as she stepped into the hall. Chaos was everywhere at school. Kelly rushed up to the principal, Ms. Bridget. “Ms. Bridget! What happened?” Ms. Bridget sighed, looking across at Kelly’s open, honest face. She decided that it would be safe to tell Kelly. “Kelly, everyone has been hacked. We need you to help us un-hack them, because they are controlled, too so…AAHH!” Ms. Bridget, hit by a blue flashing light, fell over with a shriek. Kelly panicked. “MS. BRIDGET!!! NO! WAKE UP! EVERYONE!” Stumbling, Kelly found her way to the computer lab, where all the computers had been hacked.

Every computer screen showed a hypnotic green that whirled around and around in circles. Kelly tried to turn off the computers, but they wouldn’t budge. Angry now, Kelly ran out of her school.

Outside on the street, Kelly saw more chaos. Everyone was rushing about, with the green circles whirling around in their eyes, each holding a phone and talking into it animatedly. Oh no, oh no!

Everyone is controlled. Soon I will be too! Oh no, oh no! These negative thoughts ran through Kelly’s head, whirling around and around, going over and over. But something Kelly didn’t know would probably save her life… …

Jake, Kelly’s computer genius friend (Kelly is also a computer genius), had been hacked by Hacker 1001. Hacker 1001 mind-controlled Jake into Hacker 101. These were 2 facts Kelly didn’t know. Kelly, a computer genius herself, couldn’t be hacked, so she was the only person living and it was up to her to save the whole city from getting hacked and mind-controlled.

Kelly used an old trick she learned from her computer teacher to save the world. How she did it?

Why would I tell you? It’s a trick, and after all, a magician never reveals her secrets!

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Altitude Poems A bard Sits atop a mountain Pen in hand Thoughts slowed by the altitude A zephyr glides across his elder face Face of wrinkled youth Preserved through his words The birth of greatness He does not take too lightly He cautiously takes up his quill Ideas come slowly Yet quickly grow in leaps Like a frog in the birth of spring Waiting to be released His hand of aching bone From holding his aching thoughts Like the pain of stabbing perceptions and judgements His fervid brain is weak For he is thoughtless no more He is just a bard Sitting atop a mountain With poem in hand

Vivian Passonneau

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But Why Sometimes it seems, that the odds are against you, And often you ask, why me?

It’s as if the world hates you.

If you approach, the birds cease to sing, and crickets stop chirping.

You think that all around you there is a beautiful world, Except for the tiny puddle around your feet.

But it’s all an illusion, as you uncover your eyes and see that everyone’s world is a different shade of gray.

At last you realize you’re not the only one which makes you feel better, So you stop hurting.

Daphne Feng

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Explosion Nancy Chen “I know. I am going there. This is the biggest thing that’s ever happened. I am going to stay in the history of evil villains forever. And to think. You didn’t even try to stop me. This is so very easy. I will do it in 3, 2 and⎯Aaaaaarrrgh! Stop!”

Eleanor As I walked into the classroom, I saw there was only two seats left. One was by a girl about my size, and the other was next to a mean looking boy. I walked over to the girl, and sat down. The girl had brown hair and greenish eyes. She smiled at me and then turned to our teacher. Our teacher cleared her throat, just as a boy walked in and sat in the empty seat. He looked happy, as he fist-bumped the mean-looking boy. “Sorry, Miss.” The boy said, after a glare from our teacher. Then, she turned towards my whole class, and said “Good morning, grade 6 students. I am your new homeroom teacher. My name is Ms. Madeleine Wood. You shall be calling me Ms. Maddie. I will be teaching some of you science. Roll-call.” I tend to notice a lot of details on my first days. However, what happened next I didn’t take much notice of. “Eleanor Collins?” Ms. Maddie looked up. “Here”. I replied. When Ms. Maddie said, “Bella Parker”, the girl next to me stood up and called out “here”.

When she sat down, I smiled at her. I found out the late boy’s name, Oliver Wright. Since me and Bella were both new, we quickly settled as friends. We sat together at lunch, and had a few classes together. Now I lie in bed, recalling today’s events. I liked my new school. There was just one thing that didn’t seem quite right.

Bella In all the schools I’ve been in, I’ve always been a failure. I mean, I get good grades, and all, but I just call myself that because every day I either arrive late, or get picked on for my clothing choices. It’s not that I don’t have a fashion sense, it’s just that all the girls at my other school think they’re so posh and such fashionistas that they expect everyone to be the same. However, I don’t like people to expect much of me. I want to be myself. And I know some of the girls want to be themselves, too.

I’m determined not to make my year here at South Evelyn High difficult for myself. But when the girl, with bright blue eyes and red locks slid into the seat next to me, I figured that this might be the start to a new friendship. As the day flew by, I felt that I was going to enjoy my year at this new school. Although, there was someone who seemed vaguely out of place to me…

Eleanor The week flew by, and I started becoming very good friends with Bella. Oliver and his friend, probably best friend, Joseph, were the school pranksters. I know quite a few people now, but only in my grade. Eva constantly bugged me, although she was still in Primary. I also learned that Bella has an older brother, Ben. The days were all pretty pleasant. But today, Monday, was turning out to be a difficult one. As soon as I sat down, Ms. Maddie held up a stack of paper. While she passed them out, I glanced at the board. My heart sank. On the board, in big, bold, capital letters, were the two horrid words. POP QUIZ. Oh no. I didn’t even study. What am I going to do? I thought. But there wasn’t even time to think. Ms. Maddie said, “Pencil, eraser, paper. 3, 2, 1, START”. And the quiz started.

There were a few tricky questions, yes, but the rest, I think I did pretty well. When I finished, Bella had already done hers, and was sitting in the Reading Corner, reading a novel that she picked out. I silently set the piece of paper on Ms. Maddie’s desk, and slowly walked over to the Reading Corner, and picked a novel. I sat down next to Bella, and began to read. The book was inspiring, and very interesting. When class finished, I gathered my stuff and walked towards Ms. Maddie’s desk. “Um, Ms. Maddie? Can I borrow this book? I will return it to you when I finished it.” I asked. Ms. Maddie peered at it. “The Fourteenth Goldfish, by Jennifer L. Holms. Very good choice, my dear. Of course you can. Just remember to return it”. Ms. Maddie spoke kindly, but the last words, just remember to return it. When she spoked them, her eyes turned cold. I shivered now, when I think of them. It seemed as if she needed them, for some weird reason. “Eleanor!” Bella suddenly whispered. Right after she whispered, Mr. Chapman’s voice boomed. “Ms. Collins! Did you hear what I said?” I gulped. “Uh, yes?” “Then what is the answer? What was Paul Revere’s signal for if the British came by land?” he said. “Tea?” I tried. There were a few snickers. Mr. Chapman sighed. “This is your first warning, Eleanor. Come to me after class.” When I walked to his desk, he closed the door. “Eleanor, what’s wrong?” So I told him, all about Ms. Maddie. He nodded, saying that he felt the same. “Here’s

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a secret, Eleanor. I feel there is something not quite right about that Madison. She seems mysterious.”

Mr. Chapman whispered. Good old Mr. Chapman. I always knew he was kind. Now, when I am walking home, there was something that snapped in my head. Ms. Maddie, plus science, what’s the answer?

Bella Now that I think about it, Eleanor does seem to be acting quite strange. Usually she pays a lot of attention during English. It’s her favorite subject. I learned a lot of things about Eleanor, and learned everyone’s name. in my grade, that is. Eleanor has a little sister in third grade, called Eva. Let’s see, today is going pretty well. The pop quiz Ms. Maddie gave us was really easy. I whizzed through it. I feel that there is something wrong, and awfully weird about Ms. Maddie. I think she is a mad scientist, because she is forever reading about volcanoes, and potions that blow things up. Once, I saw her reading a book called Which planet to live on. Also, today she was just reading to us a book called Blow up anything by Ima Scientist. In the book, it taught us what not to touch, just in case you blow something up. When Ms. Maddie read, she said, “Don’t touch these unless you want to blow something up.” Those words echo in my brain, and it still does now. Why? Because when she said that, her mouth curled in a malicious way, and her eyes twinkled. I feel like she wants to do something bad. Like murder. Like crazy experiments. Like………I don’t know. Tomorrow I am planning on talking with Eleanor about what’s up with her. Maybe it’s the same. I still don’t know, and I do feel like Ms. Maddie plans on something. I think it has something to do with explosions. I remember a book we read at school today. The world and its dangers by XP World. These people all sound like mad scientists. XP world? Explode World. Oh no. What if Ms. Maddie plans on flying into space and exploding Earth? Oh no. This is bad. Very bad.

Eleanor Now it is very clear. The message in the book that Ms. Maddie handed to me. It said Iay may oingay otay lowbay puay hetay Artheay nday ivelay niay Arsmay. Huh. Pig Latin. It’s sort of a secret language. So you basically take the first half of the word and move it to the end. Then add ay. So the secret message translates to I am going to blow up Earth and live in Mars. And it is definitely in Ms. Maddie’s handwriting. Maybe she didn’t mean to tell this to me. She wants to keep it a secret. Ms. Maddie is a mad scientist. Just one question stays in my head. Why would she want to blow up Earth and live on mars? What if she’s an………?

Bella I can’t help it. This is getting big. Eleanor and me are going to talk to Mr. Chapman, and talk to him.

Tomorrow. What is Ms. Maddie doing? Why? When? How? The first and last questions I can answer.

She is blowing up Earth and flying to Mars. She is going to use the books like Blow up anything, Which planet to live on, and The world and its dangers. These have information on what to do. Like in Blow up anything it says you can blow up the world if you have the right materials. Plus it has a list of materials. And in Which planet to live on, well, of course, it tells you which planet to live on.

And in The world and its dangers Ms. Maddie will find what parts to blow up, so it causes the whole world to blow up. I am thinking that Mr. Chapman is special, too. But in a good way. Well, we’ll just wait and see.

Eleanor It turns out Mr. Chapman does help. He is an undercover detective/spy. We told him everything that we knew. We are going to stop Ms. Maddie. Or, rather, Doctor Maddie. Now, let’s see what we can do. …

“Stop! Fine. Arrest me. I will still explode it. My gun has a disable password and a working password. Explosion! Ha! That’s the working password. And the other disable password, is⎯noooo!” “Really? Well then, noooo!”

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All Fired Up Jiayi Wang Anne Marie has always heard the dreadful stories of Keil burning down back in the 1800s. Since she was little, Anne had had pyrophobia, the fear of fire. She would have horrible nightmares about being trapped inside of a burning building. It didn’t help when Peggy gossiped about Keil being burned down again.

So when she first arrived at the tall red building and heard its story, she was petrified. She even asked the headmaster to allow her to change dorms. But he laughed it off, and told her she was just being silly. He assured her that the fire that happened years ago was an unfortunate accident and was definitely not going to happen again.

So being woken up at 2:34 in the morning by her roommate screaming fire was pretty terrifying to her. Her roommate, Taylor, was already out of the door before Anne could even comprehend the situation. Without taking anything, Anne rushed out of the room after Taylor. She raced down the stairs, cursing at how many steps there were. She wasn’t sure where the fire was exactly, but she could feel the heat of the flames closing in on her. She wasn’t a track star, but at that moment she could probably break the 200 meter dash record. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she was able to burst through the double oak doors and into the cold night air. There were already a group of others students huddling together. The blaring of sirens was loud but the bright red fire truck didn’t seem to get any closer. She turned back to the dorm and saw it drowning in flames. The once dorm she called home was engulfed in flames.

Well I wasn’t coming back here again, Anne thought to herself.

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Clouds People think that I’m a cirrus cloud.

You don’t notice I’m there, until I grow and grow into a cumulonimbus That screams with thunder and shines with lightning.

Emily Gohn

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The Wind Speaks of the Sirens I've traveled the world, but I've never seen creatures as mythical, alluring, and mean as the sisters of song in the Western Sea, whose island is a sailor cemetery.

Three sirens beached with withered wings wait for masts in the distance then the first one sings.

Her voice is a flute song, airy and bright; on my shoulders it floats as if in flight.

The second joins in, and she sounds like a chime.

At this point, the sailors don't have much time, for the third adds her tone, sweet and low and over the waves to their ears we go.

I am the wind, and I'm carrying doom.

At least before death they don't feel any gloom.

Men die with music pouring in their ears; it's worked every time for hundreds of years.

Maggie Hess

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Breaking Point Jessica Lian I’ve never been one to back down from a fight, until yesterday. Yesterday was the day I found out I had cancer. The day I found out I could die within the next few weeks. I had stage 4 melanoma with metastasis to the liver, brain, and skin. “5% survival rate,” the doctor had told me as he explained everything. I don’t know how I got cancer, but the doctors can only assume. My whole family stood around me, trying to interpret my thoughts. I had a blank face as I thought about everything that could happen. It was too early for me to end my life; I haven’t gotten married, haven’t had kids. I haven’t lived the life that I wanted to live.

However, fighting cancer was just too tiring. Let’s be real here, I am never the person to get lucky, and a 5% survival rate is not going to help me at all. I just turned 18 last week, meaning I got to decide if I wanted the surgery. Death didn’t sound so scary anymore, I could go to heaven and end the struggle that could come from the surgery. Even if I did survive, post-op would be really difficult on me.

The doctor looked at me, waiting to hear my decision. “Can I think about it for some time?” I asked, hoping for the answer to be a yes. The doctor replied with what I wanted to hear, but told me I didn’t have much time left. How do people expect you to decide your whole life in a matter of days? People think it’s so easy, you want the surgery because you want to survive. But no, it’s not that simple. I’ve heard stories of people who have fought cancer for years, only to find out their fighting wasn’t enough, and dying the next day. I don’t want to spend the last few months of my life fighting, struggling, and dying. I want to go explore the world, visit the places I’ve always wanted to go to. I could do everything I’ve always wanted to do, then die in peace. That’s why I’m going to spend the last days of my life traveling the globe, doing the things I’ve always wanted to do. This way, I can die a happy, pleasant death.

I told the doctor my final decision. No surgery, no fighting the cancer. The doctor tried to persuade me that my decision wasn’t right, but I refused to change my mind. Angry with my choice, he stormed out of my room. I remembered what he told me “How can you live with the fact that you never even tried to fight? You could win your fight, but you wouldn’t know if you don't try.” I thought about it some more, wondering if my doctor was actually correct. No, I will not change my decision. I’m not having the surgery, and anything anyone can say will not change that. But there was still this uneasy feeling in my heart. The fact that I didn’t even give my fight a chance, the fact that I was going to die. Maybe I should get the surgery, or maybe I shouldn't, but I realized that it takes just as much courage to say no to chemo as it does to fight cancer.

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Come Closer…

Chelsea Yang When I reached the meeting place I was a little confused. I couldn’t actually see it at first. Ivy was growing all over the place, in the ballroom, the bedrooms, and in the garden like a scene from Sleeping Beauty. The trees were bare, even though it was mid-summer. It seemed like a place frozen in time. I walked in and opened the door. From inside, it had a faintly sterile smell like a hospital, but that was overpowered by the pungent smell of mildew and moss. The ceilings were damp with water dripping down occasionally.

Then, the doors squeaked. I heard footsteps and a voice echoed through the halls whispering, “Dante, oh Dante come out and play with me.” I panicked. How did this person know my name? I opened the door to the closest room. I looked inside.

A medical bed and a clinic room. It would have to do for now.

The room was wet and moldy. Half the room was sticky and was covered in slime.

The other side was stale. There was nowhere to hide… Nowhere to sit. It was petrifying. The room was wet and footsteps came closer. Closer and closer...

CREAK. The doorknob turned… A girl. At least that’s what I thought she looked like but her hair was cropped too short and she dressed like a boy. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Her hair black with red stripes. Scared for a minute, then taking a big breath I squeaked out “Hello?”

“Do you know who you’re addressing?”

“N-n-no. I don’t know.”

“Then I shall tell you. I’m the…”

I sat there trying to figure out what she was saying but I started getting very sleepy.

When I woke up it was black, pitch black with streaks of red. Where was the girl?

Was she hurt? What had happened to her?

Then a screech pierced the darkness.

“Dante, approach the throne room!”

Two figures in black grabbed me on the arms, Harshly, dragging me through room after room after room until we got to what I think was the throne room. I wasn’t really sure. Everything was red and black with a purple “throne.” On the chair was the girl. Except this time, she was portrayed as a boy with horns. What?

Why is she- he-?

“It's you again!” I exclaimed, ”Where did you go? Where am I?” “First of all, address me as your master, and you would know if you were paying attention. Second of all, you’re in hell” I gasped.

“That's right. You might’ve noticed I told you how to escape, but of course, you had to fall asleep like everyone else, so now you're trapped here. ” “Guard! Please take her away” She screamed.

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I was dragged away. Into a room; A yellow room. Surprisingly, there was such a room like that in “hell”. After all the rooms of eternal violence. Rooms for lava, Sword fights, even frozen rooms to make prisoners’ afterlife worse than death I think. Anyway, back to the yellow room. In the middle of the room was a device; A dentist seat. They buckled me into the chair and put some type of drug into my arm. Pain struck through me as I yelped. The room became blurrier and blurrier until… The room went black and I thought I was dying. Oh, wait, I was dead the whole time…

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Belong Inspired by Emily Dickinson Baby bird, Baby bird Feathers as soft as silk Sleeping in their mothers quilt Dreaming of a calm place Where there is hope every way Singing their sweet songs Where they belong Perched on a limb Getting ready to fly the nest Going on a quest That will take you to trace your path, of wrath Norah Copenhaver THIS IS JUST TO MEOW I have eaten the goldfish that were in the bowl in which you were probably saving to bring to school for pet day forgive me I couldn’t help it it was just so juicy and so golden

Cicy and Pearl Chen

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Where I’m From I am from the Blue Ridge Mountains Right outside my bedroom window.

I am from wind chimes And song birds waking me up in the morning.

I am from eating meat Raised in the farm across the street.

I am from the smell of rain and manure.

I am from, “You look so much like your sister!”

I am from, “It’s okay; people call me her name all the time.”

I am from my sister’s shadow And making my own light.

I am from countless x-rays And far too many tears.

I am from the most encouraging and the unbelievably doubtful.

I am from getting back up stronger And never letting them keep me down.

Emily Gohn

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To My Mother Your eyes, the corners crinkle As you smile, Like the wax paper we used To bake your oatmeal raisin cookies.

Your strands of hair, they slip out of Your tidy ponytail as you work, Like our pesky little guinea pig That escaped from its cage.

Your smile, like the radiance of the Brightest sunflower fields that We go see midsummer, Are so bright, so happy and Is the mirror image of the wonderful Mother that you are.

Emma

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To My Father Your eyes, they wrinkle When you laugh, Like the tablecloth We used for picnics.

Your arms, they are reassuring When you embrace me in a hug, Like the bookstores we visit That are warm and comforting.

Your smile, that is as bright as the Morning sun pouring onto the lake When we go fishing, Is welcoming and assured Just like the extraordinary Father that you are.

Song

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Survival Guide of Random Events Erica Wang Hello! Welcome to my extremely low budget survival guide! If you are reading this, you were either planning to do something crazy, forced to read this, or you were just planning to run away and live in a forest because you got in big trouble at home. If you are reading this because you DO want to live in a forest, then you’ve come to the right place! In this guide I will teach you how to survive extremely random events, hence the title, but first, let’s start with the basics.

Living in a forest for a short period of time Have you ever been in so much trouble with your parents that you just wanted to run away from home? (I know I have). Well now you can! I recommend leaving for three to seven days so that your parents are more worried than they are angry at you, and also so that you don’t go crazy from lack of human contact. (Reader’s discretion: If you actually run away, there are two situations you could have. The first is that your parents are relieved at you coming home, and you probably get off easy, but the second situation is that you come back, and your parents get super mad at you, and they never trust you ever again.)

1) Plan it out This is the most important part, as you need to decide where you want to stay for the three to seven days you are spending away from home.If you are staying for a whole entire week, plan on bringing a friend, as everyone needs human interaction to stay sane. You should also make sure what you are doing is legal, and you aren’t trespassing, as the fines will be very high. First, you have to decide how far you want to live from humanity, as there will be risks based on where you plan to live.

If you are running away from home, your parents will probably notice your absence and call the police within a day, so that is one factor in choosing where you will be camping out for the next few days. A spot closer to humanity means a higher percentage of the police finding you, but fewer bugs and fewer animals.

Living farther from humanity means a lower percentage of the police finding you but more bugs and animals; it’s that simple. It is also pretty important to scout out the area you are going to live in, as it is highly recommended that you find a body of water to camp along, and so that you know the way back home when you are ready to go back, as you don’t want to get lost.

2) Pack your stuff The second step of living in a forest is to prepare adequately. While you should always bring the necessities, you should also bring something entertaining, as most of your days will be filled with tons of waiting as you really shouldn’t wander around too much. Try bringing some toys. If you like drawing, bring a sketchpad and a pencil and draw the scenery, bring a few dozen books to pass the time, maybe a notebook or diary to write about running away, or if you’re boring, you

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can just sit under a tree and think about the consequences when you get home.

Whatever you do, don’t bring a phone. It may seem tempting, but this will get you caught, because if your parents call the police, they can track your phone, and you will probably get in HUGE trouble later. Some necessities you need is some matches, a flashlight, non-perishable foods and canned foods, water bottles, pepper spray, a tent or some sleeping bag, some kind of pocket knife, and a bunch of snacks and water. You also should consider bringing bug spray, as there will be tons of bugs in the wilderness, and if you don’t want to be swarmed by insects every single day, consider bringing at least five full cans of it. You will also need toilet paper, and a few sets of clothing. NEVER forget that.

3) Staying the week Although living in the woods requires tons of skill and determination, you must remember that you are only temporarily staying there, and don’t need to actually try and hunt and cook animals because that would be totally unnecessary and would trigger many animal rights activists. If you want to stay in the woods for a short amount of time, just bring some canned foods and snacks and if you want, a can opener is optional. While staying in your little camp for the rest of the week, your schedule will probably consist of lots of free time, so try to work on something time consuming like attempting to climb every tree in your campsite, or sit down and contemplate about your life choices. Sleeping will take up most of your night, as you probably won’t have much light, and there probably isn’t anything else you could do. If your campsite is close to a water source, you may want to brush your teeth, as your breath is probably going to smell bad. You also must bring a change of clothes, as you don’t want to wear the same exact thing for about three to seven days straight. If you do want to wander away from your campsite, bring a compass, as that will allow you some assistance in finding your way back to your campsite. Living in the woods for three to seven days isn’t that hard, as long as you have packed the right materials.

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Stars There were stars on the ground Sprinkled across the meadow, But shining bright as ever.

The sun and moon were in the sky Together, Finally able to take solace in each other’s embrace.

And I was laying in grass Watching as the last of the stars made their descent from above I smiled as they kissed my skin

Lexi Jackson

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Ode to Magnet I wake up every morning And stare Right at the fridge.

And I see my school picture From four years ago.

I see the hair.

The shirt.

The smile.

The backdrop.

Then I glance to my right And see another photo But I never notice the magnet That faithfully, Without fail, Always holds it Into place.

Tess Koontz

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The Last Bleating Moment Daniel Zhong Gary had an almost perfect life. Like his father and his father’s father before him, he and his brother, George, owned a farm and raised goats to produce milk. George had a dislike about the farming life though. Because his brother was the oldest, by three minutes, George had to wake up at 5:00 A.M. to feed and check on the goats. Everyday was the same and George sometimes was tempted to go to college and get a degree. One day, after waking up from a nap and coming out of the house, Gary was working.

“Finally, the boy has come out of hibernation,” Gary said, “Come and help me.”

“To be fair, I’m the one who wakes up early,” George responded.

“Are you coming or what?” Gary asked.

George was silent for a minute.

“Hold on.”

“What’s the problem?” Gary inquired.

George then ran into the patch of grass that the goats were feasting on.

“Are you nuts?” Gary yelled.

As Gary turned around and looked, Fred Schmeil’s alpine goat was in their yard. Fred was a good friend of Gary and George because they went to school together and lived beside each other. Fred was also a goat farmer. The only difference was Fred took care of alpine goats. The twins took care of pygmy goats. It was significantly bigger than any of Gary’s goats. The alpine goat was hopping around and eating all of the grass. Suddenly, the goat stopped and charged at the tractor, its horns piercing one of the large tires. As the goat tried to pull out, the sharp hissing sound of air being released overtook the silence.

The goat stared at the tractor as it tilted to the side.

“Oh my God,” Gary said slowly, “George, get back here!”

George was petrified, but once he heard Gary, he quickly whirled around and ran.

Luckily, the goat was not looking at George. At the moment George got back, Gary was already calling Fred on his mobile phone.

“Yeah, your goat took out one of our tractors,” Gary said, “OK, I’ll see you soon.”

The goat then ran to the fence and broke it in pieces when ramming into it. At that moment, Fred’s pickup truck appeared. Fred drove up and got out.

“Where’s my alpine?” He asked.

“It just ran off in the direction of Noah’s house.” George replied.

“Excuse me, the goat is a she!” Fred replied with anger.

“Fine.”

The three farmers then walked over to the scene. Gary explained what happened, as George had never seen a goat attack a tractor or anything else that didn’t have legs.

“The goat was probably just confused or really energetic today,” Fred said.

Fred then drove home and the twins went to fix the fence. Nothing else happened that day, but the next really confused George.

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The next day, as Gary woke up and found George watching morning news, the announcer spoke, “Breaking news: we have just received information that an alpine goat was found on Misty Lane early this morning. It was said to be ramming into everything in sight. If you have any idea about the owner or this goat, give us a call.”

George then quickly called Fred to check if the goat from last night was safe at his barn.

When George got off, he looked concerned.

“Fred said the count of goats was one off.”

“So that goat on the news is likely to be a part of Fred’s farm?” Gary asked, even though he knew the answer.

“I believe so,” replied George.

“Should we call the news station?”

“I don’t think it’s a big deal,” George answered hesitantly. “ It will run out of energy soon.”

As the day progressed, George was getting lots of calls about a rampaging goat because he was known for being a goat farmer. Once he got engulfed in calls, he asked Gary what he should do.

“I would call either Fred if he can find the goat,” Gary suggested, “Or call animal control to just pick it up.”

When George called Fred, no one picked up the call.

“That’s odd, he usually has his phone on ringtone,” George commented.

“He might be overwhelmed with calls, like us,” Gary doubtfully.

That night, the news program said there were more reports of the goat than the amount of average reports on a drunk person. Animal control tried to stop it, but it kept on stabbing them with its horns. George tried to sleep, but stayed up, thinking about the goat.

“Hey, Gary,” he whispered.

No response.

“Gary,” he said louder.

“What?” Gary said in an annoyed tone.

“What if there was something wrong with the goat?”

“What?” Gary joked, “The goat ate too many sugar cubes?”

“This might be serious,” George said sternly.

“We can talk about this in the morning after checking the news,” Gary replied.

The next morning, George woke up Gary earlier than usual.

“What’s the problem?” Gary inquired.

“There’s the insane goat in our patch.”

Gary swiftly got up and changed. They then headed out to the grassy field. There it was, the alpine goat in their yard, having to break another part of the fence.

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Where I’m From I am from Friday night football games spent hiding under bleachers, I am from 80 minute lectures from all my teachers.

I am from water fountains clogged up with gum, I am from standardized tests tell if you’re dumb.

I am from teachers desperately trying to break up fights in the hall, I am from bad things chiseled in to bathroom walls.

I am from hairs in my food, and eggs from a can.

I am from lunch workers without gloves on their hands.

I am from classes color coded by how smart you are, I am from pushing myself to go really far.

I am from Ms. Trudy saying, “Tess, let’s hear your answer, too.”

I am from “Hmm, seems like everyone else grew.”

I am from fairs with overpriced rides and the smell of tobacco in the air, I am from taking an hour to brush out my hair.

I am from my smelling my grandparents’ juicy burgers on a crispy bun, I am from life without candy is not any fun.

I am from Thanksgiving dinner on Styrofoam plates, I am from “You and Shawn Mendes will never date!”

I am from hearing “Amen” in church on Sundays, I am from game nights and family fundays.

I am from lattes from the coffee shop down the street, I am from me and my dad not eating meat.

I am from homemade pizza with delightful melting cheese, I am from “You can have a chocolate, two, if you please.”

I am from Ramen noodles is all I can make, I am from “I can turn on the oven, but which button is bake?”

I am from “Life isn’t fair, there is nothing you can do.”

I am from “She’s lying, what the little girl over there says is not true.”

I am from “Stand up for what you believe in, even if you’re standing alone.”

I am from “Get me out of this place, I just want to go home.”

I am from “I’m concerned, she’s only grown two inches in almost three years.”

I am from “You have way too many irrational fears.”

I am from my sister saying “It’s okay.” When I’m sad, I am from the constant “I love you” from my Mom and my Dad.

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I am from If you love your parents, you are immature, I am from getting back up when life closes the door.

I am from “Boys can’t play volleyball; girls can’t play football,” I am from trying to get through life without being an oddball.

I am from glasses and freckles mean you’re a nerd, I am from trying so hard to say the right words.

I am from studying spelling words day and night, I am from trying really hard to do everything right.

I am from trying to stay strong, I am from reminding myself problems never last too long I am from my grandfather reminding me that I only live once, so make the most of it, I am from my grandmother loving me and teaching me piano bit by bit.

I am from my cat Sprinkle, who helps me not be mean like her, I am from my Dad, who helps me get through when bad times occur I am from my Mother supporting all my cases, I am from my sister telling me I’ll look cute in braces.

I am from my my parents providing for me, asking nothing in return, I am from everyone in my life who have helped me grow and learn

Tess Koontz

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An Excerpt from Emergency Alert Broadcast Eric Liu DO NOT RESPOND TO ANY NOISE OR ACTION OUTSIDE YOUR HOUSE, UNLESS IN A MANNER THAT DOES NOT DRAW ATTENTION OF ANY KIND. Both light and sound are probably going to draw attention. I’m not going to be able to help anyone outside of my house without endangering myself in the process. I think I can just barely hear someone knocking on my door over the sound of the rain. I’m probably just hearing things, though. I’m just afraid of the worst case scenario. It’s not like I can check for anything at the front door, though. The overhang over the front door blocks my line of sight. Plus, everything looks as black as a raven.

The knocking just stopped for a minute. The front light is on though. I can see a shadow.

I’m not gonna take chances.

It’s way more frantic now. I can now hear it clearly from here. My door doesn’t have a peephole, and I’m not getting out of my hiding spot or opening the door.

I just saw a small stone fly out from under the overhang. It didn’t hit anything, I think.

The knocking just stopped.

The person from under the overhang just sprinted off. I didn’t get a clear sight of them.

Probably a panicked neighbor. I can’t see what they’re running from, though.

Then another shadow darted away from the light.

A gust of wind rattled the windows, which even I could hear from inside my attic, and then the worst screaming that I had ever heard. I couldn’t make a comparison to any other sound I had ever heard. It felt like I was forced to sit at a rock concert where the sounds of a thousand nails running over a chalkboard and an abnormally loud air raid siren were playing full out of every single speaker. I fell down to the dusty wooden floorboards in agony, clenched my knees into my stomach, and slammed my hands to cover my ears with such force that my eardrums felt the resulting wave of air.

After I finally steeled my nerves and made the decision to rise back up to my feet, I looked out my window to look at what happened. Before I had a chance to remember the survival instructions of the broadcast, I stared directly into its eyes.

IF YOU HAPPEN TO NOTICE A SHADOWY FIGURE OR APPARITION, HEREAFTER KNOWN AS AN ANOMALY, DO NOT MAKE DIRECT EYE CONTACT. IF YOU HAPPEN TO DO SO,

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YOU HAVE ENTERED THE PRE-INFECTION STAGE. MAKE PREPARATIONS FOR THE WORST CASE SCENARIO. YOUR CHANCES OF SURVIVAL HAVE SIGNIFICANTLY DROPPED. Without thinking, I just did the exact opposite of one of the most emphasized instructions.

IN YOU ARE IN A PRE-INFECTION STAGE, ISOLATE YOURSELF FROM ALL OTHER PEOPLE WHO MAY BECOME INFECTED. There was no one else in my house.

GET A PORTABLE SOURCE OF LIGHT THAT CAN PRODUCE ENOUGH LIGHT TO FULLY SURROUND A HUMAN, SUCH AS A FLASHLIGHT I had gathered up a flashlight during my preparations, just in case.

ARM YOURSELF WITH A WEAPON I wasn’t sure about if any of my weapons could deliver a quick death, but since I was already armed, I didn’t really have to worry about gathering extra weapons.

IN THE CASE THAT ONE OF THE ANOMALIES HAS ENTERED YOUR HOUSE, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ENGAGE IT, UNLESS YOU ARE IN A PRE-INFECTION STAGE, OR IT IS SHOWING SIGNS OF HOSTILITY TOWARDS YOU, AS MOST IMPROVISED WEAPONRY WILL ONLY SLOW THE FIGURES/APPARITIONS. I could hear pounding on my front door, but with actual force as if the one responsible were trying to actually break the door down. After realizing that that route of entry would yield no results, the thing causing the pounding stopped trying to break down the door. I had hope that the figures would not enter my house.

The pounding started again, but it seemed to sound more like the figure was pounding on windows.

Every hit against the glass made my heart jump. I clenched my teeth in fear of whether the glass would break. And then, the pounding stopped.

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The Three Little Pigs The animal I really dig, Above all others is the pig.

Pigs are noble. Pigs are clever, Pigs are courteous. However, Now and then, to break this rule, One meets a pig who is a fool.

A pig that built his house of STRAW? The Wolf who saw it licked his lips, And said, 'That pig has had his chips.'

'Little pig, little pig, let me come in!'

'No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!'

'Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!'

The little pig began to pray, But Wolfie blew his house away.

He shouted, 'Bacon, pork and ham!

Oh, what a lucky Wolf I am!'

And though he ate the pig quite fast, He carefully kept the tail till last.

Wolf wandered on, a trifle bloated.

Surprise, surprise, for soon he noted Another little house for pigs, And this one had been built of TWIGS! 'Little pig, little pig, let me come in!'

'No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!'

'Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!'

The Wolf said, 'Okay, here we go!'

He then began to blow and blow.

The little pig began to squeal.

He cried, 'Oh Wolf, you've had one meal!

Why can't we talk and make a deal?

The Wolf replied, 'Not on your nelly!' (Silly person) And soon the pig was in his belly.

'Two juicy little pigs!' Wolf cried, 'But still I'm not quite satisfied!

The Wolf approached another house, A house which also had inside A little piggy trying to hide.

'You'll not get me!' the Piggy cried.

'I'll blow you down!' the Wolf replied.

'You'll need,' Pig said, 'a lot of puff, And I don't think you've got enough.'

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Wolf huffed and puffed and blew and blew.

The house stayed up as good as new. 'If I can't blow it down,' Wolf said, I'll have to blow it up instead.

I'll come back in the dead of night And blow it up with dynamite!'

Pig cried, 'You brute! I might have known!'

Then, picking up the telephone, He dialed as quickly as he could The number of red Riding Hood.

'Hello,' she said. 'Who's speaking? Who? Oh, hello, Piggy, how d'you do?'

Pig cried, 'I need your help, Miss Hood!

Oh help me, please! D'you think you could?'

'I'll try of course,' Miss Hood replied.

'What's on your mind...?' 'A Wolf!' Pig cried.

'I know you've dealt with wolves before, And now I've got one at my door!'

'My darling Pig,' she said, 'my sweet, That's something really up my street.

I've just begun to wash my hair.

But when it's dry, I'll be right there.'

A short while later, through the wood, Came striding brave Miss Riding Hood.

The Wolf stood there, his eyes ablaze, And yellowish, like mayonnaise.

His teeth were sharp, his gums were raw, And spit was dripping from his jaw.

Once more the maiden's eyelid flickers.

She draws the pistol from her knickers.

Once more she hits the vital spot, And kills him with a single shot.

Pig, peeping through the window, stood And yelled, 'Well done, Miss Riding Hood!'

Ah, Piglet, you must never trust Young ladies from the upper crust.

For now, Miss Riding Hood, one notes, Not only has two wolfskin coats, But when she goes from place to place, She has a PIGSKIN TRAVELING CASE! Kyle Tan

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Jimmy Liu

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Swan Dive to Tess Trying to convince her toes to uncurl From ‘round the edge of the diving board, She performed a ballet of her own making – Retreating from the edge with a pirouette, Followed by skittish toe taps, She clamped her hands around the rails As if she had to pee.

After a dramatic pause, She approached the edge of the stage, Pulled at her courage, And leapt with a squeal Into the waiting arms of the water below.

Dean Smith

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DYSTOPIA FOUND Sena Weaver “Do we live in a dystopia?” Roxanne complained in her typical high-pitched voice.

She sat around across from the fire, leaned back against a trash can with her knees tucked up. Her curly ringlets bounced as she talked to the other three gathered.

“Of course not, silly,” J.H spoke, soup still swishing in her mouth. She sat to the left of Roxanne. A toilet-paper stuffed bra oozed blood next to her.

“Why would you think that, Rox?” Alex said, still sputtering from a coughing fit.

They had grey eyes that looked like the gases that had left them breathless all those years ago. They were on top of a barrel, poking the flames with a stick on occasion.

“At least we are all still safe… protected…” Roxanne paused. She nervously twisted a curl around her finger. “Other than our siblings…”

Xan nodded, his blue eyes filled with mourning. He was tucked a bit away from the group, a bit chubby and short. “I still miss him, you know.”

J.H chugged soup from the can, slicing her lip a little as she went, but she quickly covered it with a McDonald’s napkin, even though it could never be reused. “I can’t believe the psycho still had access to guns.” J.H sighed.

“If women could ever get in power, I would stop all this bull-“ Roxanne began, her face flush with excitement, but Xan cut her off before she could curse.

“We can’t even get more than one non-white person in office, who says we could even dream of a female president, Rox? Or a trans president? Or, in Alex’s case, a non-binary president?” Xan reasoned, his voice soft.

Alex smiled. Their airy eyes looked ready to fly away. “And I’m Latinx… I don’t have a chance.”

Xan giggled half-heartedly. “Like we could even afford to run…”

They couldn’t even go to college, which is why they were cold in a tunnel covered in profane graffiti. Nothing in this world came free, not even the right to be.

Or at least that’s what the protestors said at their funeral the next week, July 20th 2018.

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Heartbreak Heartbreak is a deep red, peeling off the water-stained walls in your old room.

It tastes like the fibers of your pillowcase, soaking wet from the tears continue to shed.

It smells like the end of a sweet candle, burning off of nothing.

And reminds me of a young soldier leaving for battle but never returning home.

It sounds like a radiant stained glass window shattering into a million pieces.

Heartbreak feels like the aftershock of a 9.0 earthquake that ripped your town apart.

Ella Phipps

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Warhammer Timeline Abe Song The worlds of Aurora are a mystery, veiled in secrecy and superstition. Extant only in myth and legend, only the highest bureaucrats and the most revered Astartes know of the truth, or what little is left of it. It is the tale of a tiny colony that grew into an oasis of utopia, interrupting a deserted and apocalyptic world.

Somewhere around 421.M29, an unsanctioned civilian expedition departed the system of Hydraphur to seek out new and resource-rich worlds beyond the Segmentum Pacificus.

Most considered the trip a folly, one that would only only darkness and the Ruinous Powers of Chaos in the Halo Stars.

On 423.M29, contact with the expedition’s Psykers was lost, and the travelers were stricken from Imperial records.

On 089.M30, an Imperial sanctioned psyker on the lynchpin world of Cadia received a message from a woman thought long-lost: Fiona Cantor, the head of the so-called Aurora Expedition. She had led the expedition through a massive Warp storm and survived with the help of a group of hyper-advanced Tau precursor exiles, who had found the truth of the Ethereal mind control and had escaped to the Halo Stars. They had allied with the Tau and founded a breakaway colony named Aurora, which had prospered to the level that even Ultramar would be envious. As expected however, the psyker was executed for heresy and the psychic records erased from history, the transmission fading into obscurity.

On 122.M31, a Rogue Trader named Gaeed stumbled across an automatic plasma sentry station appearing to be a hybrid of Tau and Human technology. The sentries destroyed his ship and killed most of his crew, leaving Gaeed and only 35 of his crew to limp back to Imperial space in a lifepod. When he tried to warn the Administratum, he was executed for heresy and corruption by xenos.

By 140.M31, Aurora had developed a way to block all minds- Human or xeno- from generating a Warp signature, forever erasing the plague of the Ruinous Powers from Aurora. The technology was applied to the hybrid Tau-Human population and its secrets sealed away. However, the technology also barred the colony from using any kind of psychic powers, eradicating the Psyker and Navigator mutants.

Somewhere around 145.M31, Auroran scientists, unbarred by the corruption and fear which debilitated the Adeptus Mechanicus, rediscovered artificial intelligence, along with many other revolutionary technologies. The docile intelligences, now rapidly

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reproducing, entered into a symbiotic relationship with the Aurorans, being dubbed “The Vision.�

By 149.M31, the Auroran Council had learned of the Horus Heresy that had utterly devastated their brethren in the Imperium - the Tau had not emerged at this stage. The Council, by a narrow vote of 5-4, decided not to intervene. The humans of the colony were severely angered by this; however, they calmed down when it was learned that the government had conducted numerous studies on the feasibility of sending reinforcements to the loyalist Imperial forces and decided that Aurora needed to stay hidden from the eyes of the Ruinous Powers, as all simulations ended with a Chaos invasion of Aurora.

On 198.M31, the average Auroran lifespan had reached 200 years, with their prime now measuring from 20-100 years.

By 322.M31, Aurora consisted of nine autonomous worlds, all represented by one Councillor in the Auroran Council. The first was Wilson, an agricultural powerhouse dominated by the Earth Caste. The second was Crystal, a massive mining moon mainly held by the Water Caste. The third was Fiona, an unspecialized garden world settled by both the Air Caste and Humanity. The fourth was Aurora, the capital of the worlds, sustaining a colossal research community and settled by all four Castes and Humanity.

The fifth was Barisov, a heavily industrialized moon settled almost solely by Humanity.

The sixth was Che’lel, an unspecialized research world settled by all the Castes of the Tau. The seventh was Athenia, an unspecialized garden world settled by Humanity and the Water Caste. The eighth was Ares, a planet completely dedicated to the service of the Auroran Navy, a small yet extremely advanced police and defense force; it is covered in dockyards, factories and refineries serviced by Humanity and the Fire Caste. The final world and the original planet where the allied Tau precursors and the Aurora Expedition settled, Unity, was what can be described as the Auroran rendition of a Hive World, minus the overcrowding and regression. It is settled by all the Castes and Humanity, symbolizing the nationalism and unity that permeates the worlds of Aurora.

On 329.M31, the Auroran Council approved the Naval Supremacy Act, expanding the Auroran Navy from a token police and defense force into a combined offense/defense quick strike force. It also created the first real Auroran land force, the Protectors of Unity, a group akin in size and strength to a single Space Marine legion. It was led by Adecyn Cantor, the direct descendant of Fiona Cantor herself.

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Where I’m From I am from the house where everything is good I am from kind people that always say “Sorry” I am from kids that thought to be strong anyway I am from American school with nice people I am from people that loves technologies and knows everything about it I am from people that loves spaghetti I am from people that love music I am from my family phrase “Doesn't matters what you have made, it is all in past” I am from people that hates drinking water everyday in the morning I am from people that love dogs I am from a shining country, that is called Ukraine

Denis Romashchin

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Where I’m From I live where the swallows flies Where the turtledoves lies.

The silent house is where I live, and the sky-blue sea is where I dive.

Close to the park, Is where I lurk.

Deep in the garden, Lies five lanterns.

Where the skyscrapers lies, Is where I made pies.

When the night brings in, Fireflies sing.

Spinach in the bowl, With a happy howl Dumplings in the plate, Sorry don’t be late.

Maltose on a stick Always on the list.

Bacons on the grill, Make sure you won’t stand still.

Make sure you work hard, You will get what you deserved.

Don’t wast any meal, They’re all from hard working farmers.

Think about what you did, Change all your faults.

Under the blue surface, Lies a struggling face.

On the icy trail, Lighter than a quill.

Take a heavy breath, Follows a longer path.

On a steep mountain, Lies a thirsty fountain.

I am from the towers in the city, But also from the middle of the wild kittens.

I am from the flickering streetlight, Or the leisure moonlight.

Jimmy Liu

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Swimmer’s Block Jiayi Wang Since I was little, I have always loved to swim. Although I was never the fastest swimmer in the pool, I was still able to compete at some qualifying meets.

However, last fall season I had a bit of “swimmer’s block.” I was not able to qualify for the usual meets that I had in past years and I was unable to improve. In fact, I had added time from last year. I was stuck.

I was stuck and I had no idea had to get unstuck. All of my teammates and friends were able to improve and get faster, while I was stuck in a cycle of going to the meets and feeling disappointed. I felt frustrated and upset. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t improving when I was practicing hard every day. Despite my friends’ encouragements of “You can do it!” or “Don’t worry about it!” I still felt trapped.

At times it even made me want to quit.

One meet in particular will be forever embedded in my mind. It was the third meet of the season and I was still unable to qualify in any meets. One event that I thought I was surely able to qualify in boosted up my confidence, I was certain I was going to do it. However, I didn’t. Not only was I unable to qualify, I added a ton of time. I was devastated and I was confused on why I couldn’t. I had a small breakdown and the tears just wouldn’t stop coming. Luckily some friends were able to cheer me up. I left that day with a smile, although on the inside, I still didn’t understand what my problem was.

Eventually, I worked my way out of my “swimmer’s block.” Like everyone else I was able to improve and earn a spot at the qualifying meets. I realized that constantly doubting myself before a race was what kept me from getting better. I learned that even if things seems hopeless at times, giving up will get me nowhere.

I will never succeed if I give up. And sometimes I have to be patient, but things will get better. Now, I understand that I won’t be able to improve and drop time at every meet. And instead of being upset about it, I resolve to be optimistic about improving next time. At the end of the day, failure isn’t falling down, it’s refusing to get back up.

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Where I'm From I am from dumping out buckets of grain I am from my mother cursing when the stalls are filled with rain I am from the stench of manure and the smell of hay I am from the odorous nearby landfill and a horse’s neigh I am from ice cream late at night I am from orange soda and Sprite I am from my own guacamole recipe I am from tacos on which toppings are layered meticulously I am from Mrs. Howland’s endless horticulture puns I am from my mother’s declarations of “You will have fun.”

I am from my Kindergarten teacher advocating peace I am from him jokingly asking if he “Can get a burger from Arby’s [RB’s]” I am from having to realize that I’ve had things quite lucky I am from realizing too late that I was a bully I am from trying and often failing to be “nice” I am from knowing Lan Knight I am from Daphne Keyes, from whom I inherit a firm belief in disregarding what others expect I am from Mrs. Root, who is one of the few people I truly respect I am from my friends, who stick up for me, as well as tell me when I need to shut up I am from my parents, who, though I don't always like them, have my unconditional love I am from more than I deserve and less than I wish for I am from being petty and condescending and volatile and hoping to be more I am from a small town that I want to leave I am from challenging what is assumed and believed

Russell Blessing

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History No one knows why this chapel was really built It may face North It may be dedicated to christ but this is no church of god. it is a church of a god, however. a dark god. people overlook the soot marks on the ceiling as they sing their christmas carols and the victims scream their last. they ignore the doors they think are janitors closets that actually are tunnels that twist and turn into the deep, dark chamber. it may have a steeple made of pure copper and bathed in gold but the dried blood in the alter of that terribly dark room speaks otherwise.

A chorale master for over 50 years leads to 50 years of dark deeds. all those who knew are past dead by now. except me.

Marcellus McKenize

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A Careless Reader Amina Ford The worst thing to lose is an unfinished book. A young life is an unfinished book; there is still a story to tell.

I remember her exactly as she was and will forever be: bookish with short dark curls and caramel skin with almond eyes the size of saucers and a love for Whitney Houston. The worst day of my life was when my sister, my other half, left. It was the summer before college, August 12, 1990 in a swift collision which killed her in minutes. I knew I had to move on and do what my Linda would want: go to college, grad school, take care of our parents, and become a mother.

My daughter Lin, named after my twin Linda, is the spitting image of us when we were young. I look at myself now at 44 with lines creeping around my smile and eyes and think of what my Linda would be, but she will always be young and beautiful in my mind. How will I let my daughter go? Lin is Linda, a gift from God. Alcohol and recklessness live here waiting to hurt my daughter, but they also live there.

Where will my daughter be safe? What if she’s the same book with the same ending? She needs to go to college miles away. Linda should have gone to college like she wanted. Now she can.

My daughter needs to tell their story. I felt like I was dead when my other half left me. It can’t happen again. I wish I could have saved her before the tragic mix of alcohol, music, and automobiles stole her. I can’t trust myself to make that mistake again. I hope my daughter will forgive me.When she leaves so will I. I did what Linda wanted and what she needed. I tried to make it right. God rewrote Linda into Lin, a second edition, a second chance. Death is a careless reader or one who loses interest. I was careless with my Linda. My story is no longer interesting. I can not live with the book I lost and can never retrieve, the life I took.

It’s time for my story to end and Lin’s to pickup where Linda’s left off.

Driving Linda that night was my biggest sin and finding her was my attempt at redemption, but it wasn’t enough. I stand in the way of their story. I can’t lose that book again.

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Cinnamon Toast Crunch Sissi Li I was going to a new school, so my mom sent me to the school’s summer camp. I was at that summer camp the whole summer; it was about STEAM. There was a snack period when we took a break and had some food. There were lots of snacks in the “snack room," which is just the art room that they used to store snacks. Each day the counselor would take a student that was behaving well there to pick a treat for the class. There were different classes, and only a few good snacks like marshmallow rice crispies, Cheez-its, cinnamon toast crunch cereal and fruit rolls.

If you were the last class that got to the snack room, then you got bad snacks like bananas, raisins and crusty peanut butter and with no jelly sandwiches. We got the good snack on most days, but there were some days when they ran out of good snacks and we had to eat gluten-free pretzels sticks. So when it was my turn to pick a snack and the snack room was restored, I hid a box of cinnamon sugar toast cereal under the teacher’s desk until it was my turn again to pick a snack. But I never got to pick a snack again.

When school started, I met my art teacher, and he was really nice. On the first day of school, he told us a funny story: “You know, the first day I came back, I found a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch under my desk. It was the weirdest thing.”

I never told him it was me.

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Worship is a thing with scales "Worship" is a thing with scales That is snagged by the spirit and whispers the jig without the speech and never yields- ever.

And sweetest - in the chapel - is heard and Strong must be the item that could disperse the scaley worship that keeps so many fead I've seen it in the most barren deserts and on the most treacherous land yet-never- in the most rarity has it asked for nothing - of me.

Marcellus McKenzie

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Where I’m From I am from a small town, wishing I could live anywhere but there I am from drinking hot coffee whenever fall comes around I am from trying to go to as many football games as I can, just to see what other schools are like I am from going trick or treating every Halloween because you are never too old for candy I am from waking up early on Thanksgiving to watch the parade with my family I am from putting up the Christmas tree on Black Friday, rather than going shopping I am from trying to start off the New Year with goals, but never following through with them I am from wishing it snows during the week so that school is cancelled the next day I am from drinking hot chocolate and watching movies on cold days with my sister I am from winters of both snow storms and 70 degree weather I am from getting excited for spring break but not having any plans made I am from going to parades and wearing green on St. Patrick’s Day to celebrate my Irish background I am from coming into school every morning with Dunkin’ Donuts iced coffee I am from being ready for spring after a cold, long winter I am from going to as many baseball games as possible, just to enjoy the warm weather outside I am from trying to “get fit for summer” but breaking the diet after only a week I am from finally getting closer with people at my school, just as the year is ending I am from saying goodbye at graduation, and tearing up at the airport as close friends go back to their home countries I am from taking pictures with all my friends on the last day of school, feeling both relieved and sad that it’s over I am from looking back on my year and realizing how much I’ve grown.

My life isn’t perfect, but I am thankful for every challenge that shaped me into who I am today, and everyone who was with me every step of the way.

Abbie Dawson

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Thank You Thank you to Coleman Weibley and all of the Mercersburg Summer Staff. Thank you to our student artists, Jimmy Liu, for his front cover art “Destroyed Earth� and Katie Li for her back cover art.Thank you to our teachers Frank Betkowski, Maggie Hess, Michele Poacelli, and Dean Smith. Thank you to our counselors Jenny Bell, LT Ingram, Kat Patterson, and Gus Wadlington. Additional thank you to LT Ingram for putting together and editing this magazine. Finally, thank you for all of our campers making this session so great. Hope to see you next year!

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