Daze
Between The literary Magazine of the
Porter-Gaud Middle School Issue 30 Spring 2014
Daze Between
Daze Between The literary magazine of the Porter-Gaud Middle School Issue 30: Spring 2014 Staff: Charles Truluck Eleanor Lee Gelsey Jaymes Derrick Main Advisors: Maureen Daily Deborah Reinhold Karleigh hambrick Cover Painting Provided by Members of the Class of 2019
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Visions of Corned Beef Danced In My Head By Gelsey Jaymes Stopped by the sawhorse barricade, we could see smoke and flames along the block where our hotel was situated. I stood with my parents in the jostling crowd, and thought of my suitcase filled with the souvenirs I had been collecting, the presents I had bought for my family, and the tickets for the Nutcracker Ballet performance that evening. The past six days of our vacation in New York City had been a whirlwind of activities. Every day, I had seen sights that I had previously encountered only in books. Our Christmas holiday in New York was the most wonderful trip I had ever taken in my life, and I hoped this trip would not end in disaster. For years, my family has gathered with friends in Florida for Christmas, and I embraced every tradition in celebration of the holiday season. Both Christmas and New Year’s Eve featured mouth watering Italian meals and good luck rituals, like tossing old clothes out the windows to rid ourselves of bad luck before the new year began. When my parents announced that we were going to New York City for Christmas, I was distraught, and began to complain vehemently about their cruelty, as my mother calmly packed the cold weather clothes she had bought me for the trip. I prepared to be a holiday martyr in that cold, dirty, noisy city. I was correct about the noise. The taxi ride to our hotel, and our dash thru the chaos of Times Square, was accompanied by a cacophony of honking car horns and sirens. But, after my meal of corned beef on rye, with Dr. Brown’s cream soda at the Carnegie Deli, I conceded that New York had some deliciously positive attributes. I gazed at the Manhattan skyline from the seventieth story of Rockefeller center, and visited all the top tourist sites like the Statue of Liberty, and the New York Public Library. I was delighted equally by the dollhouses at the Museum of the City of New York, and the Tiffany windows at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I sang the song “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” along with the cast and audience of Mary Poppins. I loved meeting my second cousins Luca and Jaxon, since they joined me on my quest to compare the fare at the top five New York Delis. While I was thoroughly entertained by the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, it was the beautifully detailed Christmas window displays of woodland animals enjoying holiday parties that I found most enchanting. Luckily, the fire was soon put out in the building next to our hotel, and a fireman escorted us into our rooms to retrieve our tickets and we made it to Lincoln Center before the curtain went up for the Nutcracker. I sat mesmerized for the next two hours, as the graceful dancers brought the story of Clara and her adventure in a magical kingdom to life on the stage of the State Theatre. The next night I spent Christmas Eve in a cavernous Chinese restaurant with waterfalls and koi that swam in ponds under a glass bridge. I ate Harbin beef with broad noodles, and danced by the fish ponds with my cousins while the Chinese folk musicians played. On Christmas morning we flew down to Florida to celebrate the New Year, and I realized that my parents had given me the most amazing gift. New York City was an exciting and magical place during the holiday season, and every day I had seen the most extraordinary things brought to life by human creativity. I had ventured out of my comfort zone of tradition, and found out that different can be wonderful. I believe that New York City is a place where anyone can have the best time in their life!
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Right Up There With Rust and Thieves By Eleanor Lee I run, knuckles white around my wooden weapon and socks skidding across the floor. The vault looms ahead, its doors white in the gloom. I have beaten my enemy there. Turning, I face the darkness, waiting for the telltale swish-swish of papery wings. It sounds to my left. I lunge, slice the air, and miss by a few inches. I return to my defensive crouch, squinting in the dim light. Suddenly my adversary alights on the wall, gripping with his hairy feet. I pounce. The wooden spoon arcs and slams into the beast at warp speed, which makes a slight crunch as its exoskeleton disintegrates. I sigh and step back, taking a good look at the squashed moth on the wall, three yards away from the stash room. A close call, but I saved the yarn. Turning the lights back on, I wander away, looking for the Clorox wipes.
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Kitty by Lucy Hydrick Going to the emergency room, my Uncle Billy hands my mom the stuffed animal, a yellowish golden lamb who had ginormous black eyelashes on her closed eyes. It was for me when I was born. Later, I decided to name her Girlmoore. She was my favorite stuffed animal. I always debated whether her name should have been Girlmoore or Kitty, which is weird, because she was lamb. When I was two, I put all my stuffed animals to a vote, to name Kitty officially. They chose the name Kitty. She also had a brother named Boymoore. Boymoore was given to me when I got Kitty. I didn’t like Boymoore as much as I liked her. Kitty was my soul mate, and I brought her everywhere! She was as soft as a freshly washed sock. I would rub my lips to her soft golden ears. When my lips got dry, I would switch to the other ear. I loved my Kitty more than any other stuffed animals I had because I felt like I could talk to her, and all my problems would go away. I loved her so much, I would put her in my shirt when I went places. I remember when I was about six, and my brother was about four, we would gather our favorite stuffed animals together, and throw them at each other. We would use a bed as the “base” and whoever fell first was the one who had to pick up all the Legos we had used, and my brother had A LOT of Legos. When I was 10, I went over to my friend’s house and mistakenly brought her with me. I remember that my friend and I had a hardcore basketball game the next day, and I was really nervous. That night I threw up on Kitty and all the blankets and sheets next to her. My friend’s mom ended up throwing her away. I was pretty sure it wasn’t on purpose. They bought me a new one, but it wasn’t the same. I knew I had to grow up, and I wouldn’t get her back. I just remembered some people don’t even get stuffed animals, so I should be happy with what I had. Although I only had ten years with Kitty, I wish I could have had more.
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The Deer By Brendan Kelleher and David Chakeris The sun rose up over the trees, As flock of widgeons flew over my head. I shot one out of the sky, And a large male deer bounded out of the underbrush. Oh, lucky me! For today is my day! I’ve always wanted to shoot a deer. This will be my first one, Perhaps another will come. My wife will be so happy If I shoot this large male deer. And show it to my daughter, Who is still sleeping now. I slowly crouch in my tree stand, And carefully raise my scope To my eye, and align it With the male deer’s lung. My finger turns the safety off, And shakes on the trigger. I hear a tiny giggle and a rustle, But I don’t stop, I fire. BANG! My whole body jerks, And I lower the scope, And to my surprise, I find My daughter, and the deer, on the ground. I quickly climb down the tree stand. They both still lay, unmoving. I kneel over my dead daughter, crying, And put a bullet through my head. ~~~ And if you wait at dawn, you may still see A flock of widgeons flying by. One get shot out of the sky, And a large male deer bound out of the underbrush.
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Thomas By Brendan Kelleher When I was 5, I was very attached to Thomas the Tank Engine. Running through the house, I placed down tracks all over the floor. I had many boxes of train tracks. I had every single book, audiobook, movie, and train. I was so attached, I had nightmares about a diesel! I also had the Thomas the Tank Engine table. I tried to fit as many pieces of track as I could on that table. Most of the time it would stretch to the floor. But my favorite train, the blue one, I carried around all the time. When I first got it, I was immediately attached. It looked like a new, freshly painted fence that was molded into the intricate shape of an old steam train. It smelled very strong, like a sharpie opening for the very first time. It felt like the bottom of a new shoe because it wouldn’t slide on its side or top. But the last time I played with it, it wasn’t as new. It smelled like a dog that had just finished swimming in a pool. It felt like the rough and splintered texture of the side of a wood house. It looked like an old, enlarged, and badly used paintbrush that had lost all of its bristles, placed on small, rickety wheels. You may wonder why I was so obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine. It was because my dad was an engineer. I looked up to my dad, and I wanted to be an engineer too. I guess Thomas the Tank Engine was the first thing that I was drawn to. After a while I moved on to model trains and so forth. I sold most of the merchandise, but I still have that blue train in storage. I think Thomas the Tank Engine somewhat inspired me to follow my dad’s footsteps. Now I think being an engineer would suit me well, and look forward to learning more about engineering.
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Top Row: Grant Harley, Priyanka Fernandes and Caroline Linkous
Bottom Row: First two by Carter VickersRynecki and Third Piece by Max Abdo
Top Row: Bridgett Hoover, Jack Brutzer, Michelle Norton, Thomas Allen and Gelsey Jaymes
Second Row: Zack Nagrodsky and Chloe McAuley Third Row: Oliver Kendall, Peter Stone Lorris, Karen Majewski, and Ava Evans-Godley
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Ode to Finn’s Bed By Finn Gottlieb It sits there, Screaming for me, Like a warm shelter After a freezing winter day. Every morning Between 6 and7am I’ve never had more of an urge To Sleep. My perfect roommate Always there for me, When I feel sad or upset All I have to do Is lie down And bury myself into the warm, softness of my bed And fall Fast asleep. With a body more than twice my size And many pillows for me to rest my head He provides the ultimate comfort. When I’m tired or just want to get away from everyone It’s my best friend; I do my homework on him, read on him We do practically everything together! But I must apologize For turning my back on the naps it gave to me When I was a little child. I didn’t find the same amount of joy in it As I do today.
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What makes them different? By Ava Evans - Godley August 23, 1939 Holland “Isabelle, wake up; you have to do chores,” said mother popping her knuckles impatiently. “Yes, mother,” I said getting of my warm spot on my bed . I woke up to the horrifying screams that night coming out of my ice cold window. I knew that I was German and that I was safe, but I was scared for our neighbors because they were Jewish. The neighbors’ daughter is named Ataxia, and the son’s name is Daniel, and I call their parents Mr. and Mrs. Marcuse. I got out of bed, put my slippers on and went to the hallway and heard Papa talking on the phone in his office. “Yes, of course we can keep you here. You won’t have anything to worry about. I know exactly where I can hide you and your family. We have an attic and a basement. Just trust me and come over today at 3:00 and take a look,” said Papa really anxiously, with a greedy smile on his face. At that moment I felt nosy, so I started to do my chores. At 3:00, like Papa said, the Marcuse’s came over. Mama and my sister Daphne did not know what they were doing here. They thought it was Papa’s business work. Like he said, he showed them our attic and basement. I knew that now we were going to have Jews in our house that my family and I were not going to be safe anymore. August 29, 1939 They were finally moving in, after a week. I was looking forward to some company because I was homeschooled because my parents worked so much. Ding Dong! “They are here!” I said loudly with a smile. I opened the door and saw them. The Jews. They were dirty. They all looked like they had not taken a shower in weeks, especially Atalia, with her hair up in a messy bun and no smile on her face. I found out they had been in hiding all week. “Welcome,” said Papa with a dull look on his face as he put his finger up to his neck as if he were going to slap me in the face for opening the door. “Now go in the attic, “ said Papa greedily with no smile on his face. “Papa, be polite and stop being rude to them,” I said as if I were super hero. “Isabelle don’t be sassy to me; go to your room,” said Papa with a red face. “No,” I said with the sassiest voice I had. “I SAID, GO!” said Papa as if he were the most powerful man in the world. I ran to my room knowing that it was the right thing to do to stand up to Papa.
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August 30, 1939 The Germans were now officially taking Jews away one by one for twenty - five guilders. I went to Papa’s room and heard him talking on the phone. He said, “Yes of course we have them here. How much will that be? Wow! That will feed my family for months, I mean years. Okay thank you so much.” As he said that, questions popped in my head such as “What is he talking about? Does Mama know? Do the Jews know that Papa is talking about them?” “Isabelle, go to the grocery store and get some milk, now!” said Mama anxiously from the kitchen. As soon as I got back with the milk in my right hand there were police men at our door. “What are you doing here, sir?” I said in my most polite voice. “Well, there were Jews in your house,” said the strong man. I ran to Papa as fast as I could. Before I could say a word he said, “I did a bad thing, but in our times people have no money; that’s why I sold them.”
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Group Project Created by the Following 6th Graders: Ben AvRutick, Mac Bruce, Wyatt Durrette, Finn Gottlieb, Adrien Lemmel, Jackson Payne and Will Perrine
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Toms By Grace McMillan My Toms were dark sea blue, like the depth of the ocean. They were worn in from the day I got them. They had a white bottom, that later turned brown. I lost these soles from the holes that took them over. I remember wearing them on hikes, and to the pool, and to the park. I wore them to school almost every day, but not anymore. I miss them like the sky misses the sun at night.
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Edisto Creek By Michael Stern The sky is filled with white smooth clouds rolling in like a truck with no brakes. Under the sky are the dolphins jumping and spinning like the wind that howls on a stormy day. To the right are fiddler crabs snapping and fighting for the land that they stand on. Back from them are little snails climbing the plants for protection from the tide. To the left are the oysters stuck in the coffee brown mud just sitting and waiting. Up above the pelicans fly in and land on the big long pilings. The pelicans stalk their prey on the pilings. Down is the deep brown mixture of salt, water, and mud that flows straight through the land. In the water the little red fish jump and swim. The bigger fish chase them down night and day. Up above the birds fly high in freedom, and go where the wind takes them. To the left, in the water, three plastic cups float through the creek. Back behind us is the house that the workers spend night and day building. To the right are the trees that soar high in the sky. On the left, on the dead, dark trees, the turkey buzzards sit and wait for nightfall. To the left and the right is the tall marsh grass that sways in the slow breeze. 2064 The workers that work day and night have finished their job. They are working at a different house. The fiddler crabs seem fewer and are hiding way back in the grass. The dolphins that jump and play in the water seem to have gone to a different creek. The oysters don’t seem to mind the changes to the environment. The oysters are still stuck in the mud. The little snails are still resting, now on the top of grass. The red fish have vanished like the dolphins and the workers. The pelicans have flown away in hopes of finding a more earthy place, a place where the fish still swim. The buzzards have stayed. There are more of them to perch along the dead treetops. The marsh grass has been cut back and has lost the vibrant green color. It is now brown, dead, and lifeless. The bright blue sky has changed, too. Now it is slow, grey, and stormy. The birds that would fly in freedom don’t fly now. The sky is not a clean place for the birds to fly free. The birds are caged and kept in zoos and are used for experiments. And the biggest change of all, the three plastic cups have floated ashore. They have multiplied in amount. Now garbage bags float in the creek and some sink, waiting to decompose. The creek looks and smells like a landfill, and that is basically what it is. The trash floats down the creek from the ocean and goes ashore. Much has changed because of the carelessness of the people for the life of the Edisto Creek.
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Life is Precious By Baker Reese You never really know what you have, or the blessings that you have, until you lose them. Since the loss of my brother, I have realized the importance of family and friends, and how they are always there for you. Our daily routines in life do not prepare us for the terrible things that could happen in a split second, and change our lives forever. It is so easy to take for granted the ones you love, who are around you every day, and expect them to always be there. All the memories that my brother, Michael, and I shared are unforgettable and I will cherish them for the rest of my life. I can remember, as if it were yesterday, so many of the wonderful memories. I will always remember when in the summer, I would be watching TV or something, and he would come walking in. He would always ask me if I wanted to play tennis. Tennis wasn’t really “my” type of sport, but I said yes because it was something to do. Usually one of two things would happen when we would get to the courts. We would start to rally the ball, and then start to actually play some sets and get competitive. He would always win, then I would pitch a fit, but we got over it. The other thing that would happen is that we would get there, rally for about ten minutes, and then decide that we were bored, and go back home. Another activity that we loved to do was to get our parents to drive the golf-cart, while Michael and I would hang onto the back railings on our skateboards. There is this road on Sullivan’s that we called the, “smooth road,” and we skated there every time. We would get the dogs’ leashes, tie them to the railings, and act like we were surfing on the road. Since he was such a good skate boarder, he would always go under my leash, and it would scare me so badly. Of course, I love all of my siblings the same, but Michael was different from the others in so many different ways. Probably the greatest memory of my brother Michael was that he always wanted to spend time with me. Whether if it was watching tv, jumping on the trampoline, shooting squirrels, swimming in the pool, or just hanging, it seemed like he always had time to be with me. I know that Michael’s cheerful personality, contagious smile, and his ability to become close to anyone he met are only some of the many things that I will remember, and try to live by. Even though Michael is not with me physically here on earth, I know that he will always be with us in our hearts.
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Group Project Created by the 7th Grade Boys during Quarter 3.
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By Oliver Kendall It’s dark and very dry red bricks are scattered across the box. My body parts are strewn across the clear plastic bag. Suddenly a streak of light flashes through a tiny hole that had just been opened. A small finger slowly wriggles through the box and tears one side of the box open. My eyes are overwhelmed by light. He lightly shakes the box upside-down. All of the pieces fall out and lightly hit the floor. I can now see the boy clearly. He has light blue eyes and a very thin layer of blonde hair. I can see he had just turned five because of the birthday banner in the background. He picks up my head and gazes at it like something’s magical. His brother leans down and picks up my legs and body and slowly takes me from his brother’s hand. He puts my body on and then my legs attached to it. The boy claps and laughs and says, “Look it’s a man” in the cutest voice you could ever hear. “It’s your own Lego man” says his brother in a soothing voice. I watch as he slowly put all the other bricks in the set together. In a short time after he’s played with me, I’m put onto one of the shelves. I waited there for days waiting for someone to come or even notice me. Soon the days turned in to weeks. I watched him walk in and out of his room. It felt like a time-lapse over and over again repeating itself. It felt like forever until the child noticed me. He was already 6, and he picks me up like discarded toy, his eyes glittering with curiosity. He lifts me up and takes me over to more of my kind Legos. He builds sky scrapers and towers. They rise and fall. Then it is over like all good things. He puts me in the box. My face pressed against the scratched rough plastic, I watch as the years pass, as he slowly grows older. After it felt like ages, he’s 9 now. That glimpse of curiosity is gone and now he builds things, but they only show war. He puts a vest and a gun on me. It doesn’t feel right, like he’s using me for the wrong purpose. Then he puts me back and pulls me back out every few weeks. Then he stops. And I watch him as his clothes start to get darker and more bleak. His eyes no longer shine with creativity. After years, he starts to clean up his old toys. He doesn’t even remember me. I’m just the toy who someone forgot. He picks up my box on a bleak rainy day, and walks up to the attic. His big muscular hands hold the side. They’re no longer the small gentle hands that picked me up years ago. He brings me up to the attic and locks me away forever.
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By Christian Weichsel Our straight jackets were white. We looked like piano keys as my fellow mental institution comrades and I sat side by side with the medical assistants standing strategically behind us wearing black scrubs. The photo was of course in black and white, taken in 1962. The floors, the walls, the ceiling, the nurse’s station, the bed rails, and of course the bars on the windows had no contrast except for shadows that appeared on them. The walls were a stark field of snow; I hated them. The smell of bleach used to whiten our clothes, not only burned my nostrils but left a burn in my memory. The man sitting three spaces to the left of me screamed at the light. His name was Jose. Jose saw his parents abducted when he was a little boy and he never saw them again. He heard voices, and he saw things that should not be seen. I, on the other hand, was here because I saw my best friend get murdered, and because of that, I slept with a knife in my hand before I came here. We all hated it here. Every last one of us. The food was white glump and brown mush. The white glump was like eating a rotten piece of wood. The brown mush was like chomping down on wet sand. But worst of all was the smell. It was the stench of failure. The brown mush and the white glump both smelled of dead mealworms. Some of us tried to run away, only to end up in secure cells. My friend George, who was here a couple of months ago, tried to escape. He actually did! I should have gone with him when I had the chance. We heard from one of the medical assistants that George ended up on Lane 64. Lane 64 was the worst place you could ever think of. Lane 64 was like here but 10 times worse. I felt bad for George working like a slave in the old metal factory. Yes, that’s right, Lane 64 was an old metal factory. You were worked as a slave until your bones broke down into ashes. You were paid 10 cents every 3 hours. But I knew George; he was going to find a way out and if he didn’t, I will help him. That night I went crazy, not my usual crazy. I thought about George. I guess I was turning into Jose. I was hearing voices. George was telling me to escape from the institution and help him escape from Lane 64. I ran past security. The guards ran after me until I jumped into the frigid waters of the Portland Sound. Soon enough they turned around and walked away. I tried swimming to Portland, but then I remembered, I couldn’t swim. I flailed around and yelled out into the darkness of the night. Finally I got over my fears and calmed down. I doggy paddled to the shores of Portland. As I stepped on shore 3, police cars swarmed on me. One police officer cuffed me and shoved me into her car. As she drove me to an unknown destination, I stared out the window. Then the police car stopped. She let me out and put a bandana around my eyes. “Welcome to Lane 64.” “What?” I said. “Never mind just look.” She untied my bandana and I saw the old weathered down sign. It was a gloomy day so I couldn’t see the sign that clearly. I squinted my eyes and I saw the words on the sign. They said Lane 64. Then my vision turned black.
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Abi Stock
Rachel Yoon
Kathryn Lucas
Chloe Rogers
Isabella Hassett
Kamilla Jones
Na’Daia Daniels
Juliette Lovell
Gaby Iwegbue
Mary Gailliard
Larson Runquist
Margaret Margaret Ritter Ritter
Chris Nelson
Katie Katie Krawcheck Krawcheck
Jacob Jacob Gregory Gregory
Max White
Evan Evan GIlbert Gilbert
Jonathan Laureano
Nelle NelleAlexander Alexander
Pilar Stolarczyk Stolarczyk
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Pop of the Mitt By Ben Kahn Every pop of my mitt woke me up slowly as I was throwing with my dad. The night before I couldn’t get any sleep from the excitement of these tryouts and also from watching the Cubs vs. the Giants game until about one in the morning. Then I asked my dad, “Can we go over to the mound so I can pitch to you?” He replied with a hesitant, “Sure.” It was a burning, sunny hot day in mid July with a light blue San Diego sky around noon. I felt like I was in an oven wearing my white Citadel shirt and my multicolored Citadel hat with gray baseball pants with a black stripe down the side. I had just shown up for the Storm baseball tryouts. The coach had just arrived and was watching my pitches go straight into my dad’s mitt. Pop, pop, pop, was the loud echoing noise that his glove was making. Soon the coach walked onto the field and introduced himself, and he told me what I would be doing. Then he told me to get some water and run over to second base. He also told my dad to go over to first base. Every ding of his fungo bat was following by an excellent field and a perfect throw. After about ten ground balls, he told me to go over to center field. The first pop fly he sent over to me was way too far in and he told me not to get it, but I was already on my way and dove. I missed it. My right shoulder and my left knee started to hurt. I thought, “Oh my gosh what am I going to do?” I started limping. I didn’t want the coach to see me limping, so I tried to cover it by not limping. The next ten balls hit to me went way over my head and I missed them, but I still threw them back to second base where my dad was standing. I could tell that my dad didn’t want to be out here in the heat and the bright sun. After that the coach told me to go get my bat and to head over to home plate to hit some. I asked him, “Do you want me to wear my helmet?” He quickly responded, “No, I think that you’re fine.” As I hustled over to home plate, I viewed myself as a Citadel player, Tyler Griffin, a switch hitter just like me. When I stepped up to the plate I knew that if I didn’t hit well, I probably wouldn’t make the team. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I could feel my heart beating like powerful, big drums. I felt a little bit of wind go through my skin and I told myself, “This is what it’s all about, the only reason why you play the game is to go pro, so if you don’t try hard, you don’t play hard, and therefore you don’t succeed. So it’s important to go ahead and make this team.” Then on the first pitch, as the coach picked up the ball, I saw the four seam grip, saw the
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release, saw where it was coming, waited on it, swung, and nailed it to deep center field. I did the same, for the next 7 pitches. After that, he threw about 5 two seams, and they were all ground balls to second base. Then he walked up to me while my dad was still picking up the balls that were still in center field. And the coach said, “There is one slot left and you are competing with two other guys. If you don’t make this team don’t feel bad. There are plenty of other travel teams out there. I will call you later tonight to let you know if you made the team.” Then my dad and I went to Subway. I could smell the fresh bread and newly cut meat. It smelled really good. My dad and I talked about the tryouts as we ate. Then we left and went home. After about four hours, the coach called. He said, “Ben, I think that you are a very talented kid and I just wanted to ask you. Would you like to be on my travel team?” That one moment changed my life and I am glad I gave the right answer, “Yes sir, thank you so much.” I hung up, and I was bouncing like the Easter Bunny on Sunday morning with tons of excitement. And that was my Storm tryouts.
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Running By Will Hutchisson Hear the rapid footsteps Running, Running, Running Down the dark alley Being chased by what they call The Popo Running, Rapidly, Racing To not get caught Heavily Breathing Look back at the red and blue lights Running, Rapidly, Racing Into the hood. Hear the rapid footsteps Running, Running, Running Down the soccer field Hear families cheering, Screaming, “Go, Go, Go” Get a goal. Running, Rapidly, Racing Down the soccer field Trying to juke every single player To get a goal. Hear the rapid footsteps Of a boy running from home Horrible life and couldn’t stand it He was Running, Rapidly, Racing To get away from family Couldn’t hold his emotions in Had to let go Running, Running, Running Away from home Hear the rapid footsteps
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My Breathtaking Adventures in the Costa Rican Rainforest. By Itai Mupanduki There I was having the time of my life, zip-lining across the lush rainforest in Costa Rica. I could hear Meg screaming as she zoomed behind me. With the adrenalin rush, the feel of the wind, the spectacular view underneath me, I was in my own world. Bullets of rain pelted my face, and I could barely see. I hung on for dear life. In the midst of lapping it all up, I didn’t see “Monkey,” our tour guide, frantically waving and trying to telling me to slow down. By the time I realized, I was a heartbeat away from smashing into a tree. Luckily he stopped me or I would have been hurt severely. For my seventh grade Winterim trip, sixteen kids from seventh and eighth grade traveled to Costa Rica. Every day of the trip we worked at the Kids Saving The Rainforest (KSTR) foundation until lunch. This organization helped wild animals that had been domesticated return to their natural habitat. Our school rented villas in a beach city on the Pacific side of Costa Rica called Manuel Antonio. We did unique things every morning. The experience was hands-on and eye-opening. We learned how to clean poop-filled cages, and we had to find natural food for the monkeys to eat. It was important to wean the monkeys off the pet food that they had been fed previously because these monkeys were in a process of transitioning back into the wild. I caught spiders for the monkeys to eat. Our school group even helped release animals that had once been injured. They were now healed and ready to go into the wild. Every afternoon we did an exciting activity. We did everything form snorkeling to zip-lining to surfing. On day two, we arrived at the welcome center for our Canopy Zip-line tour. Our guide’s nickname was “Monkey.” I assume he got the nickname from his monkey-like facial features and the fact that he could zip from tree to tree fairly easily. Our tour was made up of a course of 12 zip-lines that criss-crossed the rain forest. It was exhilarating as we zipped across the rainforest looking around at the breathtaking scenery. On our third day, we went to the Manuel Antonio National Park which was near the beach. The beach was beautiful but it closed at 4 PM, so we had to head to another beach from that one. The second beach had a town next to it. Both beaches had white sand and the water was very similar to the water in Charleston. I explored the town with Trace and Peter. We bought some ice cream, and it was delicious. We ran into another group, someone bought a coconut from a street vendor. He got the top chopped off and a straw to drink the juice out of the center of the coconut. He thought it was nasty. I had a sip of the coconut. Since I was already accustomed to the taste, I knew what to expect. That night I had a local meal for dinner. It consisted of many different types of seafood
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from the Pacific coast of Manuel Antonio mixed in with rice - similar to paella. I tasted the food and I decided I had to put my secret ingredient that makes all food taste scrumptious, hot sauce. I poured the local hot sauce made from habanero peppers into my meal. It instantly went from amazing to perfect. I had a smoothie with mixed local fruits. I figured fresh watermelon-pineapple smoothie was just the thing to wash my meal down, and I was not disappointed. Our final day was bitter sweet; it was sad to see the gorgeous Costa Rican sunset knowing that it would be our last. At the same time the thought of going home to see my family and sleep in my own bed warmed my heart over. I will always remember this trip to Costa Rica because of my all the unbelievable things that I learned how to do, from surfing to snorkeling, and even learning how to keep monkeys alive and healthy in their natural habitat . The other thing that will stay in my memory would be the time we spent helping KSTR. Above all else my favorite part of the trip was the zip-lining through the rainforest.
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The Monsters Walk on Halloween By Hase Cooper “Shoot us a big one,” my dad yelled. “Yes sir,” I shouted as I hopped into the driver seat of my dad’s Ford F-150, setting my father’s worn out 12.gauge in the passenger seat. Broom bru bru bru the truck burbled as I pulled away. I tore out of the gravel drive. Six minutes later, I pulled up under the cut over oak that marked the parking spot for the pit blind. As I was walking, a group of turkeys got up and flew away into the ghostly night. “Squish, Squash,” my boots squeaked. As I got closer to the blind, I heard the call of the owl - the same owl I saw the week before. Now I could see the opening to the pit. I knew I only had two hours of light left. My pace sped up. I got to the opening of the barrow pit, easing down the ridge. I set my bag into the front window and put my gun on top of it. I slid into the blind trying to make no noise but the mesh had other plans. It crumpled like dry leaves. I got set up in my chair. Chook, the gun breach closed as I put a shell in the chamber. I put two more in the magazine. Now I waited. The sun touched the tip of the trees sinking faster than a weight. I had about forty minutes of sun left. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a glimmering rack, one of the biggest I had ever seen. I turned my head as slowly as I could, not to spook the monster. He was in a full sneak on his daily scrape line right through the middle of the pit. He was at fifteen yards and walked right past the corn not even sniffing it. That meant the rut was on. I tried to ease my gun up but he saw me, his head turned. I knew it was over if he smelled me. After what felt like an eternity, he put his head down, and I put that gun up ever so slightly. My heart was racing like a Nascar driver. My stomach rumbled. He stopped. His massive head shot up. I knew it was now or never. I squeezed the freezing cold trigger. That shotgun said byyow. He took off running out of the pit, stumbled, he spun around trying to get his footing. With his last ounce of life, his rack hit two pine saplings and dropped. It was all over; I had him. “Yes!” I whispered to myself. I crawled out leaving my gun and pack in the stand. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven,” I said counting and tapping its points . “Man, that’s a big one!” “Dad’s gunna be proud.” I headed back to the blind to retrieve the gear. I cranked the truck, hauled next month’s dinner into the bed, and headed off into the sunset with my monster prize.
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Top Row: Sammy Roskill, Alexandria Borden, Annemarie Thompson, Thomas Allen and John Galloway
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Middle Row: Emma Grice, Willem Goedecke, Victoria Mabe and Bridgett Hoover Bottom Row: Caroline Seymour and Eleanor Lee
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Always Be A Leader By Ian Symonds Humans are stupid. It amazes me that I, an eight inch dog, can lead a pack of seventy inch humans on a briskly paced walk. I do not like walking in the Fall, because the pine straw and sappy dead leaves get tangled in my snowy fur. I stop at the door to wait for the rest of my pack. You can’t get much slower than humans, those pathetic creatures. I bark at them to hurry. I want to get to my water bowl. I wish they could bring water for me on walks. They carry water in bottles and they don’t share it with their pack leader. Someone is going to pay. As we enter the elevator, an older bald man comes behind us swinging a freakishly long stick. He starts feeling around near the Christmas-like buttons until one of them lights up sunset orange. The elevator rises in the air, and the man stumbles, almost crushing my skull. I race to him with fire and determination in my eyes. I expose my canines and clamp down on his scabby and bony ankle like a mouse trap on a mouse. I thrash my head left and right until I taste salty blood. The man starts swinging his stick violently at me with no control while screaming for help. My people on the other hand try to get my collar attached to the leash. The man accidentally hits one of my human peasants on the top her head, and it starts bleeding like a fountain. She starts screaming. I bark ferociously at the man and attack the only places I can reach, his ankles. The man hits my pack again, and that’s a hint for me to strike faster. The screaming from my pack and the man is just killing my ears. Before I go in for another blood sample the bell rings, and the shiny silver door slides open. Screaming, the man stumbles out with his terrifying stick and collapses. My humans yank me into their arms and yell at me. I don’t understand why everyone is so upset. I hear speedy footsteps running up the stairs nearby, and the human in charge of the condos races to the man on the floor. She shouts at my humans, “Do you know your dog just bit a blind man? Have your bags packed tomorrow. You are not welcome in this community any more.” All I want to know is when can I get a drink of water.
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Taken By Caroline Christy I opened my eyes groggily awakening in my cold, hard bed. I heard a loud thumping noise. My heart raced. I then heard footsteps coming from down the stairs slowly trailing up the creaky steps. I knew it wasn’t my parents; they were out of town coming home later tonight. I hopped out of bed and glimpsed though the crack in the door. A man in a dark grey jacket and a black ski mask was crossing my bedroom with something in his hand. I knew I should hide quickly. The closet was in sight. I ran over to the closet door. I opened the door and slowly closed it, and I pulled the door knob close to me, so if he tried to open it my strength would hopefully withstand his grip. I heard my bed room door creak open. I will never forget that sound. The foot steps were getting louder as he approached the closet door. It was the end! I just knew it! The door knob was rattling. He was trying to open the door. Then...it stopped. The rattling stopped. Maybe he gave up. The next thing I knew the door flew open. He fell in, and I hit my head on the wall. Then it went black. My head was pounding. I was in the back seat of a red Mustang. I could tell because my dad has one just like it. The details were exact. Horror filled within me. It was my father’s car! I heard sirens behind the car. The red, white and blue lights flickered through the windows. The car swerved. His deep voice mumbled words I don’t understand. The car spun and ran into an oak tree. I was okay, but the doors are jammed shut. He wasn’t saying anything. I glimpsed over at the man; his head was slumped. I didn’t know if he was alive or dead. An officer from the police car pried the door open with a tool. I didn’t bother taking a good look at it but I think it was a wrench. My mom and dad were waiting out side the police car for me. This was a night I will never forget.
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Class Catastrophe By Carter Vickers-Rynecki I always try to think of “fun” things to do in class. For example, I always throw in a pop test on the day right before a major holiday or break. Or on some special holiday we celebrate at school, like Valentines Day or the day of the Halloween Carnival. My 5th grade students are nasty little creatures. They whisper things they think I do not hear like, “I hate you, Mr. Snodgrass” and “How come he is even allowed to be a teacher? If we were dogs, he would be a mean old dogcatcher!” I get them back. Usually I have a few crying at the end of the day. It makes me happy when I see rude, spoiled children cry. I decided to go even a little harder on them, because even though I might sound really mean, I have been treating them like eggs that are about to be hatched. My plan for tomorrow, on Tuesday, is to force each one of them to come to line up in the front of the classroom and spell college level words. Each student down the line has to participate. If they get the spelling of their word wrong, I am going to pour a cup of ice water on them. That will teach them to treat me with respect, I hope. Here I am on Tuesday at 1pm waiting for my students. I already set the ice water trap right above my smart board. It was so fun setting it up because I was just was thinking about how happy I will be when the kids go home crying, wet from the cold water. To make sure everyone gets ice water on their heads, I have chosen some nearly impossible words for anyone to spell. So they will all mess up, I am sure. And those rude little munchkins will maybe finally learn not to be so rude. This is going to be the best day of my life. The students are now coming into my classroom. As usual they are all asking in their whiny voices, “Is there going to be a pop test today, Mr. Snodgrass? Please let us know! Oh please!” At first I stare at them and just say, “maybe” just to make them nervous. I teach them Math, Spelling and Geography so they want to know if there is a pop test, which subject will it be on. I say, “If there is a pop test, it will be on Spelling. Spelling is their worse subject. They all currently have an “F” in Spelling. They all say, “Oh no! You give us one almost every day on Spelling!” Then I say, “That is because you all have an F in Spelling. And you need to learn to spell. So, surprise! Yes, there is a pop test in Spelling and it is starting right now. Everyone please line up in front of the class.” Kevin Falmouth as usual pushed his way to the front of the line. I was not thrilled about that because he happens to be the best speller in the class even though I knew that he would lose no matter what. I was tempted to say, “So little Kevin FOULmouth, nice to see that you are so excited to be first in line. Boy, are you are in for a surprise!” I call him Foulmouth because he is always complaining about me behind my back and
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secretly, although I hear him, calls me Mr. SNOTgrass to everyone. “The first word is antidisestablishmentarianism,” I say. Kevin, well, he was almost finished spelling the word and so far he was right. I could not believe it! It was the very hardest word that I had on my list. I could not let him WIN!!! So the second before he said the last letter, I pulled the ice water trap lever as hard as I could. As the cup of water splashed on his head, he yelled, “WHY????!!!!!!” I said, “Oh, that is just a little surprise because you did not spell the word right.” He said, “But I think I DID spell it right. Please let me check it to see if I am right, at least.” I just said, “No, you are wrong, the last letter isn’t Y it’s M.” Even though I realized he had said Y and not really WHY???, he knew better than to challenge me more on it. Water was dripping off his head and down his shirt. I could not have been happier. They all went home. The next morning just as I got to the school, a group of angry parents along with the principal were waiting for me outside the school. Then a police car drove up and two policemen got out. The parents were yelling at me, calling me names and saying I was a horrible person and an awful teacher. The principal handed me a letter and said, “You are fired.” Then one of the policemen said I had to get in the police car and go to the station to answer some questions. I was almost happy to get in the police car. I wanted to get away from all those crazy, angry people yelling at me. In the police car as we were driving to the station, the policemen said something that changed my life forever. They said that I could end up living the rest of my life in prison if I did not learn to be a better person. I did not want to live my life in jail! At the station, they put me in a jail cell, but they said it was just for a while until they could let me out to ask me questions about what had happened at the school the day before. I sat there for hours. I did not like it. It was a very small, dark and hot cell with no window even. It got me thinking that maybe those most of those kids were bad, but maybe not as bad as I had thought. I thought that maybe I had been too tough on them. I still was not really that sorry for what I had done. Maybe my mistake was that I let the kids push me around too much. They could be so spoiled and rude. The policemen finally came and got me. There eyes were like fire balls about to explode right at me. They all said in unison, “So you are, or were, a teacher, right?” I responded saying just a simple yes, “Yes.” They all said, “How did you like teaching children?” I could not think about how to even answer that question.
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The Jellyfish By Logan Hsu-Rodriguez “Come on guys, let’s go, and put on your sunscreen!” Christine said. “Okay, Mom!” Logan and Lia said in unison. “Hey mom,” Logan asked, “Where did you put my goggles?” “They’re right over here!” Christine replied. “Thank you,” Logan said. “Hey Mom,” Lia asked. “Where’d you put the sunscreen?” “They’re right over here, Lia,” Logan replied. “Hey Dad, where’d you put the boogie boards?” Logan asked. “Outside on the porch where we left them,” Ric replied. “Mom, I don’t want to move to Vienna, Virginia; I want to stay here in Virginia Beach,” Logan said. “Well you will have lots of fun up there,” Christine replied. “I know, but it’s our last day in this hotel and in Virginia Beach,” Logan said. “We will still be in Virginia,” Christine said. Right as they ran towards the ocean (the beach is called Dam Neck Beach in Virginia Beach; it is where the SEALS that killed Osama Bin Ladin trained at) and set everything up, Lia and Logan ran towards the ocean and jumped in followed by Ric and Steven. Christine stayed on the beach. It was a very beautiful beach, the sand was warm, and the water was cool. No one knew the pain lurking beneath the surface. With everyone else, Logan dove into the cool water. They were having so much fun in the water. They played in the water for a really long time. They were all laughing. They all disappeared under the water every once and a while to try to swim under the wave. They dove into the wave and floated over the wave. Whenever they tried to ride the wave back to shore and miss, they would all laugh at each other. Doing tricks in the water like usual, Ric and Steven threw Logan and Lia around. When Ric said it was time to get out, Lia and especially Logan were sad because they were having so much fun. Right as they got out Lia grabbed a towel and her book and laid down, Logan played in the sand, Steven laid down, Ric fell asleep, and Christine watched the water. Right as the Ric woke up, Logan pestered him by asking him if they could go back in the water, and he said fine after getting annoyed. After Logan put his sunscreen on he ran to the water. Diving in, Logan shrieked. Logan was laying on the sand by the time they ran down to him. Ric picked him up and brought him to a chair. Logan kept on saying, “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow” over and over again. Christine asked anxiously, “Oh my gosh, what happened; it’s from right under his waist to his knee?! Will he be okay?”
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“It looks like a jellyfish sting,” Ric replied. People who were surrounding them were saying things like “pour water on it.” But one person said to pee on it. Christine said, “Steven, you’ll have to do it.” “No, no, no, I’m not doing that; we’re in public!” Steven said as he backed away. “Then run to the lifeguard to see if he has a medical kit,” Christine replied. Steven had to run about a mile and a half;while he was running, Christine called 911. About five minutes after she called, a few people came in a fire truck and came over to them. “We can’t really do anything about it, he’s not allergic, but if you want we can take him to the ER, but all they would do would put some ice on it and give him some Tylenol,” one of the people asked. “No, I think we’ll be okay,” Christine replied. Running towards us, Steven said, “The lifeguard doesn’t have anything.” “Ok, oh, and is it true that if you pee on a jellyfish sting it will not hurt as much?” Christine asked. “Ha ha, no that’s just a old wives’ tale,” one of them replied as they all laughed. After that they counted Logan’s jellyfish stings, there were 36, and one of them was as big as Logan’s 6 year old fist!
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Idioms Project - Each Piece must feature two Literal
Idiom translations coexisting in one piece of artwork
Top Row: Christopher Martin,
David Butts and Miles Mcloughlin
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Middle Row: Widman Woodhull, Sam McLean, Jack Nutley and Jack Sequerth
Bottom Row: Leland Freshley and Michael Martin
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Top Row: Will Hutchisson, Jacob Skaggs and Charles Truluck
Second Row: Charles Hartsock, Hayes Pearce, Sean Lee and Jake Lanford 43
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Caged By Katie Krawcheck I trailed my two-inch long, olive colored body across a lush green surface. It was summertime in SicklesVille, and the golden sun was just escaping from behind the dusty clouds in the sky. The sky was a large thing, really. It was infinite, in a way, circling around and around the world. It did have an end, if you thought about it. Because, there would have to be an end eventually, right? Though, most circles do not have an end, and they continue on and on for infinity. The sky wasn’t just infinite to me, but it was enormous. A different size than what humans regularly see. The sky was boundless for them. But for me, that was a completely different story. For, I was only two inches in length and one and a half centimeters in height. I was an Old World Swallowtail Caterpillar. I saw everything from a different perspective than humans did, especially the sky. The sky was just so endless, almost. They believe that there is life up there in outer space, but truly, I believe that the sky is the one and only place, up somewhere high, that could sustain life. Instead of believing in there being an infinite space, I believe in an infinite sky. I envied birds. I envied birds for the way they could fly free and escape whenever they wanted to, or thought it was necessary. I wasn’t able to do that. Not yet, at least. I was still just a caterpillar, and everybody told me that that was all I would ever be. I didn’t give up. Not yet. I knew I would become a butterfly someday. And I knew that I would fly away from my worries whenever I came upon them. And I knew that I would finally be set free, out of my cage. I continued my slow-paced trudge across the Hackberry leaf. My associates were all faster than me since they all had wings. But even the young caterpillars found a way to rebel against the incredibly harsh wind, and glide across their leaves, as if they could do absolutely anything. Taunting me, that’s what they were doing. Taunting me, and haunting me. Reminding me that I’ll never be a graceful creature. They were reminding me that, no matter what, I’ll always be worthless. I’ll always be forcefully pulling and pushing myself across the leaves, without ever having a purpose in the gigantic, strange world. I let out a meager sigh, allowing the powerful wind to enter my body as I breathed in again. I made it to the tip of the four-inch long, flourishing leaf and curled my diminutive mouth into a slight smile. I had made it, and I had, once again, proved to my caterpillar neighbors that I could accomplish another thing. And that nothing could stop me. As I was filled with pure ecstasy, I felt the leaf become unsteady. My happiness vanished, and pure fear took over. A pale-skinned hand drifted to the stem of the
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leaf, dangling my limp sliver of a body off the edge of it. I allowed my mouth to stay suctioned onto it, thankful for my trait. The hand brought the leaf to a maroon-colored shed. After I was forced onto a solid, cold surface, the leaf was plucked from underneath me, and the hand flicked the leaf onto the ground, with no care in the world. The door to the shed shut. The darkness filled the room, and I was filled with joy again. But this time, the joy was different. It was almost as if it was calling to me, begging for me to get this feeling. I had never experienced this feeling before, for it was incredibly unique. My feelings then turned into a desire, a yearning. Then, the room became light. The pure, dazzling lights reflected off of my green skin. But there was something strange about my skin. It was no longer its usual, slick green self. It was becoming silver, my entire body, a glorious silver color, representing my new adulthood. Representing my new beginning. It was then that I realized that I was not in just a shed. I was in a cage, but a better cage. I was in one of the butterfly containers, and there were silver strands spinning around and around me, dangling me from the top of it. Caterpillars are believed to crave a chrysalis hanging from a leaf, not from a cage. But for me, that was different. My chrysalis resembled my freedom, my final joy. I didn’t care where I was or who I was with, I was grateful to finally gain the responsibility of becoming the majestic creature that is the butterfly. I spun for a few hours, around and around. The silver ribbons, blinded my eyes and filled me with some sort of euphoria. Then suddenly, the spinning came to a stop. I was enclosed in a wonderland of silver and sparkle. This was my paradise and my chance to become something new. Although it was supposed to take weeks, it felt like a few minutes. My marvelous chrysalis tore open slightly, allowing a bit of light to seep in through it. I opened my mouth, jaw dropping. My suction-cupped mouth was gone, and replaced by a small sliver for a mouth. My slimy, green body vanished, and it was replaced with a black one. I ripped my way through the chrysalis, taking my first deep breath in my new, fresh world. I began to leave the silver streamer home that I had come to love, and my body was carried into the air, wings spread wide. Strips of pale yellow, light blue, dull black, and vibrant orange trapped itself onto my wings, gliding through the air. I looked down as my peers’ eyes widened at my accomplishment. I smiled, proud that I had proved them wrong. I roamed the sky, admiring its different shapes and colors, and feeling the harsh wind against my soft wings. I sighed, finally being able to physically feel freedom. Finally being able to fly away from my worries, and be carefree. And I was finally set out of my cage.
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The River By Gracie Brown “I’ll see you down in Cocoa Beach in ten days. Right?” Ed asked his wife Diane. “Right. See you then,” Diane replied. Ed was about to travel the St. John’s River which was the most alligator infested water in the United States of America. Ed lived in Florida so he had seen many alligators before but nothing like the alligators in the St. John’s River. He was unloading his red kayak from the top of his silver car, and he told his wife goodbye. He loaded up his backpack, filled up his water bottle, and put his kayak into the river. This was Ed’s third time riding the St. John’s River. He would do it in sections so he wouldn’t have to do it all at once. Ed loaded himself up into the long red kayak and waved goodbye to his wife one last time. He got his paddle and started paddling, and paddling, and paddling. It was getting dark, and Ed’s stomach was starting to growl so he decided to stop somewhere on land and camp out for the night. The eerie silence was broken by a loud splash that came from about a half mile away. Ed guessed it had been an alligator getting back into the water. He pulled his kayak onto land and pulled out his tent. It was a rather small tent, but it only had to fit one person. He pulled out a sandwich from his tiny blue cooler and starting eating it. He pulled his water bottle out of his cooler and started gulping down water. He guessed there was a stream on land near here, so if he ran out of water he could go get fresh water from the stream. Ed set up his tent and pulled out his sleeping bag. He got settled in for the night and pulled out his favorite book then started reading. The sun had just started to come up when Ed woke up. He checked his watch and saw that it was only 5:23. He got up and broke his tent down. He put his tent back into the proper bag along with the sleeping bag. He pulled out two granola bars, a small bottle of orange juice and a orange for breakfast. He ate his breakfast while watching the sun come up. After Ed was done eating breakfast, he loaded up his kayak and started paddling the river. He saw many alligators that day sunbathing, swimming, or just relaxing. At about noon Ed stopped along the side and pulled out his lunch, and today he was eating another sandwich. Gathering his belongings, Ed put his cooler into the kayak. It was nearing dark now so Ed pulled off to the side again to eat dinner. Tonight Ed decided he was going to build a campfire. Picking up sticks, Ed heard a loud crunch. He looked up and saw a branch falling from the tree. It landed right next to him, so he picked it up. Once he had enough sticks he put them in a pile, lined them with rocks he had found, and lit it on fire using his matches. Even though there was really no need for a fire since it was Florida, and it’s almost always hot there, Ed enjoyed campfires. He took out some cornbread and a hotdog and heated them by the fire, and he took out a large tub of fruit and started eating. Eight days later after paddling well over twenty miles, and even having a twelve foot long alligator almost knock over his kayak, Ed finally met his wife in Cocoa Beach. They spent the day out eating lunch, and they went to a museum. Then they drove home, and Ed started planning for his next trip.
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The Boat that Crashed By Thomas Allen “Elizabeth, Elizabeth!” Meg yelled with joy. “What Meg?” Elizabeth sighed annoyingly. “Dad is letting us go on his boat without him!” Meg said with great pleasure. As Meg said that Elizabeth popped up from the tan couch. “Really?!” Elizabeth said. She rushed through the baby blue painted living room and up the hard wood steps. Meg sat in her blue chair with green flowers on it and waited for Elizabeth to come with the keys. Rushing down the stairs, Elizabeth grabs her younger sister, and they get in the car to go to the harbor. The car was an orange BMW with tan seats and a brown dashboard. As they drive in the car Meg asked curiously, “Can we catch fish for dinner?” Confidently Elizabeth replied, “Of course we can. Dad loves a good fish fry!” When they arrive at the harbor, Elizabeth asked the keys for the boat. The kind man walked her in the building, and she returned with the keys. After that they went to the storage room for rods and bait. Elizabeth showed Meg the dock because she had never seen it. It was a lovely view, the sunlight shimmered over the crystal blue waters of the Ashley River. Soon they found the boat. It was a eggshell white, seven seated, Jones Brothers boat. It was perfect and had never been in a disaster. Elizabeth jammed the key in the ignition and they were off. “Elizabeth,” Meg moaned, “Elizabeth!” “What Meg?” “Where are the fish?” “How should I know, obviously not biting!” “Sorry. Wait how are you allowed to drive the boat!?” “I got my driver’s license last week.” “Oh.” Just as they are speaking, a fish with the power of an ox pulls a fishing rod in to the water. The girls give chase and run up on a oyster bed. “You’re in trouble,” Meg said. “Clam it, okay Meg!” “Dad is going to kill you.” “I’ll hop out of the boat and push it off the bank.” The girls hoped it would work, and it did. They drove the boat back to the dock and carefully tied it to the floating boards. Bummed out Elizabeth and nervous Meg slid in the car and drove home. After sunset, Dad and Mom were waiting on the front porch. “What in the world took y’all so long!?” Dad boisterously shouted. “Are you two okay?” Mom asked curiously. “Yes, we’re okay,” both sisters replied. “Hey, what happened!” “We accidentally drove the boat onto an oyster bed.” “What!?” Dad yelled, “You two are going to repaint that boat tomorrow.” “Dad!” the girls shouted. “No if ’s, and’s, or but’s about it!” The next day the girls repainted the boat, and it was all over.
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  Fire By Spencer Roskill Metaphor poem The forest fire came in like love, completely unexpected. It burned through everyone’s hearts; It kissed every last one of the trees, And it crushed what was there before, Creating something new, And the fire moved on.
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Colored Pencil Drawing by Brinkley Norton
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Clockwise: Jack Levenson, Lindsey Prus, Max Abdo and Anushka Fernandes
Clockwise: CHristian Zadig, Lucy Hydrick, Zach Nagrodsky and Cooper Jennings
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The Dove By Adrien Lemmel White as snow, With graceful wings. A beautiful tweet, Singing to all. Red eyes, pink beak, angel-like mind. When the dove sings, Whispers of morning. Peaceful and calm, Reach my soul. Though from birth to death, Twenty years of life Are all they have. I wish to be Like my doves. Gentle, sweet, and elegant. The joy of flying above, And singing Heavenly songs For others.
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Ladybug, based on “The Caterpillar” By Adrien Lemmel Between leaves and branches, A little flying ladybug. I eat tiny aphids, I eat them like a snack. In dark damp bush, A very thirsty ladybug. I drink morning dew, The freshness delights me, Under morning sunshine. Over lush green land, Through breezy air, Squawking birds tune melodies. I listen to their choir, In nature’s orchestra. A hungry jay arrives, But I sit calm and fearless, Are my bright colors scary? The bird flies off, empty stomached. I am now the queen, Of my peaceful leafy throne.
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Alligator By Christopher Hunsicker My body rough like asphalt is patterned like a tire My head is big and heavy; My legs are stumps with little roots; My tail helps me in many ways like swimming through the water to catch my prey; I am always by water, but the heat is nice, too.
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Ode to my dog By Jack Levenson Ellie is a puppy, the cutest that there is, Her fur is as soft as a cloud, light but with lots of it. It has a golden color to it, a cotton ball consistency. She is like a mini tiger, with small yet sharp teeth. Her eyes are small and round, Always looking hopeful at the promise of human food. She isn’t a mean or cruel dog, She can only harm you by licking you to death. Ellie smells like any dog would, usually smelly. But when she is clean, she smells like clean sheets, Fresh and warm from the washer. When she runs, she looks like cross between a bunny and a fox, Going faster than anyone except an Olympian. Getting Ellie is one of the best things that has happened to my family, And I love her more than anything else I own. Ellie is the best puppy ever.
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Between The literary Magazine of the
Porter-Gaud Middle School Issue 30 Spring 2014