VOX: Student Literary & Arts Magazine by Presbyterian School

"Our lives begin to end the moment we become silent about things that matter."

Dear readers, We are a group of eleven seventh graders at Presbyterian School, and this is the school's first ever literary magazine. Our title, Vox, means "Voice" in Latin. We have collected submissions from all across our middle school. Our authors and artists range from fifth graders to eighth graders. We hope you enjoy the featured pieces. We would like to thank our supervisor, Ms. Bracewell, for helping us with our magazine. We hope you enjoy!

PUBLICATION PAGE VOX 2015 Presbyterian School Literary and Arts Magazine

Editors: - Avery Bennett - Bianca Carrizal - Tita Curtin - Lauren Erasmus Hayden Hanslik - Nina Plemenos - Chris Rootes - Chris Rossi Craig Smith - Jasmine Wright - Nicholas Yum -

Table of Contents Writing A World of Light, Autumn,

Lauryn McClung………………………………..91

Eve Kroencke…………………………………………….100

Birds of a Feather,

Chloe Song……………………………………..4

The Book of Life,

Eve Kroencke...........................................98

The Bottom Bunk,

Tita Curtin..............................................74

The Child, Clara,

Tommy Murray...................................................15

Anna Brown..........................................................105

Cousin Time,

Isabella Forney................................................92

Drake Larker, Erica Pratt, Friends,

Blake Stanley................................................42

Arden Dabney...................................................50

Lindsey McNear.....................................................47

I am a Outsider,

Jasmine Wright..........................................69

Imagining Strength,

Tita Curtin...........................................62

The Irish Graveyard,

Eva Wolfe..........................................90

Leaves in the Forest,

Lauren Erasmus....................................85

The Mice, the Prince, and the Girl,Simone Chi-Ferson…………82 Missing in Venice,

Claire Duval...........................................21

My Shoes,

Lindsey McNear...............................................101

My Sister Alli,

Lindsey McNear............................................28

Ode to Christmas,

Jacob Barham.........................................32

Ode to a Feast, Jacob Barham...........................................18 Ode to King Arthur,

Jack Quander......................................95

Ode to King Arthur,

Jasmine Wright....................................76

Ode to King Arthur,

Tita Curtin..........................................34

The Places I am From, Serenity,

Matthew Erasmus..................................................66

The Story of My Life, My Tree,

Lindsey McNear...............................102

Noah Mims........................................53

Dorothy Davis......................................................67

Tragedy at the Daytona 500, Untitled,

James Conor Matula-Rebello.......88

Anonymous............................................................1

Wild Animals Cannot be Tamed, Wings of the Wind,

Anonymous......................86

Claire Duval.........................................12

Art Angry Birds,

Nicolas Oldham...............................................31

Aztec Tooling,

Margret Hudson............................................25

Baby Tree,

Samantha Brown................................................58

Big Wheel,

Claire Duval.......................................................3

Bird House,

Robert Frank....................................................10

Blue Eyed Stranger, The Chairs, Clara,

Tita Curtin..........................................59

Tita Curtin.......................................................57

Anna Brown............................................................73

Confliction, Dexter,

Robert Frank....................................................17

Hannah Benstock.....................................................61

Eiffel Tower, Erica Pratt,

Nicholas Yum..................................................41

Arden Dabney...................................................52

Eyes of Glory, Flying High,

Lindsey McNear............................................14

Lily Kyriakides-Crowe.........................................46

The Fire of Love,

Eve Kroencke...........................................94

The Four Horses,

Malou Payne............................................60

Fruit Basket,

Nicholas Yum................................................106

God of Thunder,

Will McKinnie............................................30

The Golden Turtle,

Charlie Fridge........................................24

Hunger Games: Mocking Jay, Koala's Life, Medusa,

Anna Brown..........................27

Lindsey McNear...............................................55

Anna Brown.........................................................29

Metal Tooling,

Kate Carlin.................................................26

Our Styles of Art,

Rachael Lee and Sara Wheat.........................48

Pointillist Painting,

Joseph Powell.........................................39

Sea Art,

Nicholas Yum........................................................20

Shadow of the Sun, Sparta,

Eve Kroencke.......................................99

Andrea Estrada.......................................................49

Spartan Helmet,

Margret Hudson.........................................84

Starburst, Lindsey McNear...................................................65 Steeple,

Robert Frank.........................................................11

Sunday Brunch,

Hayden Hanslik...........................................72

Take Me to Church,

Robert Frank........................................33

Untitled,

Anna Belle Bayley...................................................97

Untitled,

Nicholas Yum..........................................................2

Wheel of Wonder,

Lily Kyriakides-Crowe...............................46

Worm's Eye View,

Lindsey McNear......................................56

The View,

Bianca Carrizal....................................................40

UNTITLED -AnonymousFalling ever since first glance ever since snarky exchanges of words you, of course, could never tell you think you know everything but, you haven't quite figured me out yet Pain gut wrenching, heart throbbing pain beautiful, excruciating pain something to observe distantly but I stepped too close I wouldn't change not for a million dollars or years the joyous and torturous times are deliciously real and are the only thing keeping me from slipping away Falling for you Pain for me

Untitled --Nicholas Yum-7th Grade

Big Wheel --Claire Duval-7th Grade

BIRDS OF A FEATHER -Chloe Song5th grade

Chapter One "Ow," I moaned, after tripping on a stubborn rock. All the corn ears that I was carrying fell onto the filthy, dirty earth. Great, now I had to re-pick the corn. Mr. Dunlap was going easy on me today. Five ears of corn per load, and five loads. Usually it was ten ears per load with ten loads. He has a pretty big corn field, two acres by two acres. He owned a lot of land and had enough money to pay the taxes. After all, it was cheap. He also had two acres with each of the following in it: apples, tomatoes, pumpkins, wheat, sugar cane, cotton, and two by two acres for livestock. He had other employees too, like Stella. There was another worker; he's a boy, about my age. His name is Alexander. He has chestnut brown hair, dark hazel eyes, and slightly tanned skin, like mine. Back to my corn problem. This was just my last load, and the water trough was not too far away. Maybe I could rinse the corn with the hose; after all Mr. Dunlap does let me and Stella use it. All right, I'll do it. As I picked up the corn and marched to the hose, I think about what I'm going to make for dinner tonight. Usually I make the dinner,

shop, and weave our baskets. Stella, on the other hand, is best at hunting, fishing, and she also likes to cook. Every other day we switch off. I can do the stuff that Stella usually does too; it's just that she's better at it. Tonight was my night to cook. I finished washing all the corn and started heading back to the barn. Suddenly, Stella was in step beside me. I have no idea where she came from. "You finished your loads?" she asked sweetly. "Yeah," I added."Are you going straight to the carpenter after this?" Yes," she replied. "Ok, I have an hour before meeting Mrs. Granger at the market. I might be able to make a snack for you and me and drop it off at the carpenter's place." "Cool, I think I'll take some fruit," she said and walked into the barn to drop off her corn. With that look in her eyes, she probably didn't know what she was saying. I went inside after her and dropped off my load. Mr. Dunlap walked up to me and dropped some cotton, corn, tomatoes, and wheat into my basket. "Thank you," I said to him for his generosity. "You're welcome," he replied. After Stella got her share, we walked home together. On the dirt path, our feet were in perfect step, heading back home. I opened the birch wood door and let Stella go in first. She went into the tiny bathroom and I went to get some water from the well. Good thing there was a cold water well, and a warm water well. I reached for the warm well's bucket and caught it with ease. I carefully walked into the house, and find Stella sitting at the small, wooden table. Uh-oh, she had her thinking face on. "Have you ever wondered," she said,"Why we're here?" Come to think of it, I haven't. "Um, no. But, now that you bring it up, yes,"I replied. It had never occurred to me, and I do want to know. I know I have family somewhere, I just never thought about it, because life is good right where I am. Stella and I are the only people here without family. Also, we never knew how we ended up here.

"I'm gonna go outside. You know, pick some flowers for air fresheners," I said. That would help for some thinking time to myself. "Ok, I'll get some snack supplies out," Stella agreed. I walked outside to the open field of endless flowers. Most of the good fragrance ones were to my right. I stepped into the flowery grass and picked two armfuls of flowers. It took about ten minutes because the flowers were all spread out. When I had gotten my loads, I ran back inside to find Stella standing there, an excited smile on her face. That is definitely not good. She had an idea. "This is what I've decided: we go to the oldest person in town, if that doesn't work, we go to the mayor. At least someone older than us, who has been here their whole life," she blurted out. "What are you planning?" I ask suspiciously. "I'm planning a slow start, to find your, and my, last names," she explained to me in a sweet way. She always had ideas, but nothing like this. "Um…ok?" I had, really, no other choice than to follow along. "Great!" "Just a few questions: What if they don't know who we are; we don't know who we are!" "That's why I want to find out. Are you truly with me or not?" she asked desperately. I saw the look in her eyes and realized she really wanted to do this. I had no choice, she was my best friend. "All right," I said, giving in to her pleading. "Let's go," she said."The mayor will be in his lunch break, and we can eat on the way there." "Ok captain," I saluted. I just wanted to follow her lead, because I had no idea what to do. We walked down the road, a small lunch in our hands. I didn't have enough time to make a proper meal. A thought poped into my mind. "What about the carpenter? You know, the one you work for?" I ask. "Oh, him? Did I not tell you; he's fallen ill," she said. "About the mayor," I said to change the subject,"what if he doesn't have any information? Also, what if we, somehow, ask the whole town and

they don't know? What if nobody knows for miles? What if all our kind, are dead? What if-," Stella cuts me off. "Don't worry, someone will know," she soothed. There was a silence after that. We walk toward the city hall and thoughts and emotions clutter our heads. When we reach city hall, there is a small arrangement of picnic tables. The center one was the fanciest, so it had to be the mayor's. Sure enough, he was sitting right there with Mrs. Garmi. I try to approach him carefully, but Stella just waves out merrily. "Hello!" she called."Mind if Luna and I have a word?" She just came right out and said it. That was, no doubt, stupid. "What are you doing?"I asked. It was a very dumb plan in my point of view. She just looked at me, with that do-you-really-trust-me-or-areyou-just-saying-that-look. Stella is the only one I know who can do that look. The mayor walked up to us and invites us to sit down. Stella gladly accepts his offer. I, on the other hand, just stands there, dumbfounded. Stella gives me a stern look, and said something even more dumb. "It's rude to refuse an offer, Luna. Especially when it's from the mayor," she said in a totally fake voice. I blink quickly and sit down. It would be rude to refuse an offer from the mayor. I pulled my skirt over my legs and planted my bottom in the right place. Mrs. Garmi offered us sandwiches and some cider. Stella and I gladly accept it and look at each other. I take a bite out of my sandwich so I don't have to start a conversation. Of course, silence comes next. Always an awkward silence. "Wait,"I whisper to Stella who is next to me,"isn't Mrs. Garmi the oldest women in town?" "Er-not to be offensive," I added. "Score!" she whisper-shouts."Two birds-one stone." "Excuse me?" said the mayor. "Umâ&#x20AC;Ś."I stall for Stella to say something, and it works. "So... Mayor Corey," Stella starts. "We were just wondering-" Mayor Corey cut her off.

"I know what you want," he starts in a low voice. "You want to know how you got here. Don't you?" "Well yes; how'd you know?" asks Stella cautiously. "I have my ways," he hinted. "Spies?" Stella said, amused. "Uh... No. Heh-heh," said the mayor, worried. "Admit it," I said, amusement in my voice as well. "Alright," he sighed,"I do have spies around town. Here's a secret: I am a man who likes to be up to date with things." "So you like gossip?" said Stella. This was getting entertaining. "Er..." he started. "Admit it. Again," I said, again. "All right, all right," he gave in. As amusing as this was, Stella somehow got to the point. "So, do you know anything about us?" she asked. "Well, yes. I do have some information; I just don't think you girls are ready," he explains. "What! what! do you mean 'not ready'?" I stutter. "Um, you girls have the most interesting history this town has ever seen. You are pretty young. You can't handle the information," he said. Looking pleased that he got that out. "What?" Mrs. Garmi said shakily. She was 89 years old. I had almost forgotten about her. Looking at her graying hair, I thought about how much she might know. But the truth is, she was basically deaf. I might as well give it a shot. "Hello Mrs. Garmi," I start loudly,"did you hear how I was asking the mayor about my, well, my past?" "Why, yes I did, you sweet, little girly!" she said, high-pitched and shrilly. She reached out to grab my cheek, but Mayor Corey accidentally tripped. He caught himself from the fall, but not from grabby Mrs. Garmi. The mayor's cheeks widened, and his face turned red. Red from embarrassment and pain. For a 89 year-old, Mrs. Garmi was strong. She also had her eyes closed while stretching Mr. Corey's cheeks. "Wow," she said,"for such a young lass, you have rough, aging skin."

Stella and I were doubling over in laughter. I almost fell out of my seat. Mrs. Garmi opened her eyes to a red mayor. She frowned in surprise. "Well, that explains it," she said. "Oh, darling," she turns to me and Stella at last, "I do know stuff about you and that Stella girl." "You do?" Stella asks. "Why, yes," she said."All I seem to remember though, is the letter." "The letter?" I asked. "Yes...Yes, letter. That thing has some valuable information. As a matter of fact, it's in the mayor's off-." Mayor Corey cut her off. "No no letter in my office," he said, obviously trying to hide the fact. "There is nothing there." I shake my head in amusement and wonder. "Um, thanks anyway," I say quickly, indicating to Stella that we should go home. "Leaving, already?" the mayor says, relieved. "Yes," said Stella, getting what I meant,"we're leaving. Thank you for the food." I can't wait any longer. I burst out and grab my best friend's hand. She jerks in surprise as I drag her home. She stumbled once and I stop to let her catch her breath. "What was that for?" she asks. "For once," I start,"I'm the one with the big plan." "What?" "Yes. Now catch your breath, and let's go." I command. She doesn't reply. I don't grab her hand this time; she knows what to do. We get to the house and step in. I go straight to the kitchen. I grab the snack basket and return to the table. I find Stella sitting there, eyes full of wonder. She wants to know my plan. "Okay, here it is:" I take in a deep breath,"we're going to steal that letter."

Bird House

--Robert Frank-7th Grade

Steeple --Robert Frank-7th Grade

WINGS OF THE WIND -Clair Duval-7th grade

Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened on the wings of the wind Shaggy ponies gazed upon him mildly Walls were damp and mossy expanding all the earnest of his nature The room became a little dark and his cold eye glistened My life upon the globe

grew older, clearly older They cling to me. through all the mysteries of wonderful creation The stale and shriveled hand stretching out towards the city Devils lurked around pinched and twisted, and pulled into shreds Ghosts and phantoms strolled away gliding onto the streets.

Eyes of Glory --Lindsey McNear-6th Grade

THE CHILD

Tommy Murray-

6th grade I am from the deepest seas And the highest mountains From the sands of hope To the boulders of wisdom I am from the legends, The ones that are reborn for eternity These are my spirit lifters And strength givers I am from the heavens and sins; The never ending war on the inside The ones that show right from wrong, With only my judgement for a guide I am from earth, From Mother Nature The tempest, ripping through the air The mind behind it all The old holds me up, With courage in every step The new gives me possibilities, To rejoice, to play, to love

I am a piece of art that Is not done in permanent ink. A painting that never seems to be finished, With new details constantly being added One who could hold this much potential, Could only be created by The Lord, Our Father He puts me into my family's cup, My personal, holy grail. Plates in the rooms shining 'round, Disfigured games that made the crowds aroused Food looking as if taken by theft; After final thanks, we begrudgingly left

Confliction --Robert Frank-7th Grade

ODE TO A FEAST

-Jacob Barham7th grade

Two years ago, in perfect timing For a hearty thanksgiving dining; Pervasive aromas of hens and breads Made all succumb to be fed. After monotonous prayer we ate For even omnipotent tongues to taste. None could feast as fast as them, The fathers ate until what was had been. With cooking inherent the food they made; Mother and step father liable to bake. Speaking of gossip and wonders then, Beloved families chat over hens. Ignorant of the cold so dire, Accommodating each other with our fire. Even when all began to tire, Some sought take celebration higher. Plates once full illustriously gleamed; Perennial feasts halted it seemed. Till the games procured came to play, Time became ambiguous for the day.

Plates in rooms shining round', Disfigured games that made the crowds aroused. Food looking as if taken by theft; After final thanks we begrudgingly left.

Sea Art --Nicholas Yum-7th Grade

MISSING IN VENICE -Claire Duval7th grade

Even though her mighty engines in reverse, the ocean liner was pulled further and further into the canal. Hazel skies reflecting upon the canal. Silent ripples from the rotted boat. Not a sight in the fair. Row, row, row, your boat gently down the stream. Dark shadows veil over the skies. Suddenly, creaks and shivers

fill the waters. And the clock strikes midnight. Smoke towers the horizon, concealing the custard sky. Dark currents start to form, whirling above, ever so high. Shrieks of horror crawl deeper into the canal. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. Crumbles start to fall, from the broken cinders of her heart. Simplicity at its best advantage, peaking around the corner. Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Sunken down beneath the shore. Fierce eyes, reflecting upon the waters. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. Waves start to uncover the water, washing away the tides.

Uncovering the hidden treasures revealing a critical eye. Missing for ages, waiting, and waiting, and waiting, for the key. To unlock the hidden eye. Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream, waiting for a key.

The Golden Turtle

--Charlie Fridge-6th Grade

Aztec Tooling --Margaret Hudson-6th Grade

Metal Tooling --Kate Carlin-6th Grade

Hunger Games:Mockingjay

--Anna Brown-6th Grade

MY SISTER ALLI -Lindsey McNear5th grade Alli who never wants to smile at me. Who played many sports like field hockey, lacrosse, soccer, tennis and basketball. Who wants to move to New York when she is older. Who is learning how to drive. Who's a night person that likes to hang out with her friends. Who tries not to laugh when my dad does something silly. Who has fashion that would be on vogue. Who sometimes I want to fight with. Who's hair is short, brown and some red like someone bit an m&m. Who is short like an elf. Who shops till she drops which makes her my wonderful sister. I will always love her. Who is so special. Thank you.

Medusa --Anna Brown-6th Grade

God of Thunder --Will McKinnie-6th Grade 30

Angry Birds --Nicholas Oldham-5th Grade

ODE TO CHRISTMAS

-Jacob Barham7th grade One night we bestowed upon the tree That which we relinquished for each other to see. Our parents told as we went for bed The world of benevolence he would tread. With our thoughts now astray abstract; We found our minds to be no longer be taken for fact. In our world which he accommodates, He came upon our house by the hand of fate. With his gift, he retells of old The days who celebrated the birth of bold. As he leaves to bless the rest, He shows us humanity's best. The then inaugural day Now made to be the merry way Whereupon a lonely manger Was his gift for us to savor. As his day soon would come, Averting our fate was to be done. To us his life was sent Now celebrated at advent. When we wake to the arrival of dawn; We all hear his beloved song. A time when we see those unknown as right, Not as those whom we give our spit

Take Me To Church

--Robert Frank- 7th Grade

ODE TO KING ARTHUR -Tita Curtin7th grade Is it a legend or is it a fact? That King Arthur by his act Of pulling a sword from a stone Sealed his fate to take the throne?

King Arthur's sword had a special name. Excalibur would bring him fame. Excalibur's scabbard kept Arthur from bleeding, And battles were fought, with Arthur succeeding.

Sir Balyn found the Holy Grail and spear. King Pelles' voice told him not to go near.

But Balyn entered anyway And used the spear to slay that day.

King Arthur needed an immense table, To seat all his knights so that he'd be able To give them instructions about their next quest. To eliminate fighting, a round table was best.

The Knights were protected by special powers and magic That kept them from dying or other things tragic. His knights were often called into battle. They rounded up enemies like they were cattle.

King Arthur fell asleep on a large boat. He awoke in a dark, dismal dungeon, no longer afloat. He fought to the death so that he could Be the lord of the land and fight evil with good.

King Arthur's half-sister, Morgana le Fay,

Used black magic to get her way. She was evil, and Arthur was good. He would not wear the cloak like she thought he would.

Morgana's servant burst into flames. "Snap! Crackle! Pop!" the fire exclaimed. She used tricks to get Arthur's weapon, But he got it back and fought her deception.

Guinevere was King Arthur's queen. She was the most beautiful woman the world has ever seen. But Merlin predicted that their love would not endure. Does their love last forever? I'm really not sure.

The Green Knight had magic, and he couldn't die. One night at a feast Sir Gawain tried To cut off his head and it fell to the floor, But the knight picked up his head and walked out the door!

Sir Lancelot was from Avalon, The exotic land where magic goes on. He found a knight that could have been dead. A halo of blood surrounded his head.

Sir Lancelot removed the blade from his head And healed the knight where he had bled. Sir Lancelot is the best knight in the land, Always lending a helping hand.

Sir Tristram battled with Sir Marlault, A messenger that made him halt. Furthermore, Tristram fought a dragon, And he cut off his tongue, but it was nothing to brag on.

At the last supper Jesus drank from a cup. Then it went missing. Hey! What's up? The holy cup was called the Grail.

The knights try to find it. Will they fail?

King Arthur's empire grew far and wide. The knights were filled with overwhelming pride. Maybe it's a legend, I don't know. It happened a long time ago.

Pointillist Painting --Joseph Powell-7th Grade

The View --Bianca Carrizal-7th Grade

Eiffel Tower --Nicholas Yum-7th Grade

DRAKE LARKER -Blake Stanley5th grade I quickly snuck into the carriage. It was filled with wine. Eh, I thought, no one will notice one missing wine bottle. I quickly smuggled the bottle into my rags that passed as clothes. "This joust is going to be good," said the driver up front. "Agreed," said the passenger on his right. Oh God, I thought, this isn't good. Watching a joust is for the rich and the rich only. I needed to get out of the wagon and fast. The carriage came to a thundering stop. "I'll get the wine from trunk," the driver said. Too late. We were at the joust. I hopped out of the trunk, and sprinted to the stands, before anyone saw me. I looked around at my surroundings; a tall, stone wall with a pointed blue tip at the corner was on all four sides of the jousting area. I wandered around --clueless what to do-- hoping to find the exit. As I stumbled around, I came across a small tent. I quickly hopped in. Uh-oh. "Hey, kid," exclaimed a man in shining armor, "You here for my wine?" "Umm," I mumbled confused "Oh of course n--" "Alright you must be with that bottle in your dirty, old rags." "Wait, what no, no, no." I stammered. But the man dashed towards me and ripped the bottle out of my coat. "Ah.. here we go ,"said the knight. He quickly uncorked the top and gulped down half the bottle. That can't be good for your health, I thought. The man's face turned a sickly pale and he collapsed with a shout. Four burly men came in, saw the man, then looked at me. All four came sprinting towards me with a roaring shout. I scrambled out of the tent, but a man --well

more like a giant-- pulled me back with one arm. I fell and my head slammed on the floor with smack, and immediately my vision went black. "-he killed the jouster sir," exclaimed an unseen man. "The silly old boy pretended to be his wine fetcher, and he poisoned his wine." "No, I didn't!" I protested, my vision returning. "That isn't even my wine." "Are you suggesting you stole it?" asked the man who must've been the one who pulled me down. "No! I found it lying in the street," I insisted. "See, he is full with lies; no one leaves wine in the road." "What is your name, young boy?" asked the other man who must've been the cruel king of the kingdom. I swallowed hard. "My name is Drake Larker, your majesty," I squeaked. "Alright, Drake," continued the king "You will be sentenced to death." What! I just lost my parents a few months ago and have been on the run since. But this, this is a whole new level. Execution! That's outrageous. I'm innocent! But before I could finish my thought, the burly man grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me to a carriage. He threw me in the back and locked the trunk. The horses whinnied and started to gallop. It felt like hours had passed of bumpy road until the carriage lurked to a stop. The burly man, who I realized must've been an enforcer, came to the trunk and unlocked it. With a sharp kick from the inside, the trunk flew open. The enforcer got hit square in the face and backed up with a grunt. I took my chance to escape and leapt out of the carriage. I punched the overgrown man again for good measure and bounded off. It didn't take long before the man started to chase after me. His long legs gave him an unfair advantage, and he was rapidly gaining on me. The man was almost at my heels now, and I could barely keep this sprint up. He took one more step then flew forward and tackled me. The enforcer grabbed me by my the head with one huge hand and practically dragged me back to the carriage. But this time instead of going inside the carriage, we walked right by it and continued to go forward. I wasn't sure which was worse: the stockade, or the angry mob of citizens armed with deadly pitch forks and tomatoes. The enforcer pushed me froward, while the crowd roared in approval.

"You've been awfully quite, kid. Why don't you explain to these men over here," he waved his hand towards the crowd, "what, you did!" "I'm innocent," I mumbled. "Ha!" he shouted, "I'm innocent," squealed the man in an impression of me. "Before you kill me, what's your name?" I asked. "My name? Well, I thought you recognized me. I'm your executioner!" the man exclaimed, doubling over laughing. I quickly took this as an opportunity to punch him straight in the gut. "Again, seriously?" he choked. I wasted no time and bounded off once again. I raced to the angry mob and pushed my way through a crowd of surprised faces and gawking men. I raced down the street and turned into a path, the sky darker charcoal. I continued to fly through the path, blindly searching for an exit, when I ran head-first into a stone wall with a loud thunk. I groaned as I felt the knot on my head the size of a golf ball. I threw myself to my feet and continued on the path --this time heading left. I ran into an abandoned house and listened for the angry mob and my executioner. I heard faint shouts that gradually increased as I crouched in the back of the room. "Kill the kid!" the angry tumult shouted. "Hunt him down, skin him, and then mount his body on a stake for a painful death!" The crowd roared in approval and kept on searching. The crowd ran down the path I was on just a few moments before. The enforcer continued to lead the mob, occasionally shouting encouragement of my death. I held my breath; the crowd came across my hiding place and stopped for just a second. The enforcer stepped in and walked forward. "No one's here," he announced. Everybody left the house. I sighed in relief and waited for the shouting to muffle off into the distance. Once I was sure they were gone, I scurried out of the house and backtracked through the path. I was all the way back to the the stockade and I could already see the carriage off to the side. That's it! I could steal the carriage and travel to another kingdom. I ran off with a new sense of hope coursing through my body. I hopped into the carriage and whipped the reins. I only had one little twinge of wonder; who really poisoned the jouster? Oh well, I'm free and couldn't care less about my old kingdom.

It seemed like the few days of bumpy riding took years when I finally reached a new kingdom. The new sense of freedom made me rejoice with happiness. I traveled inside and a short man came up towards me and asked, "Who are you?" "My name is Drake. Drake Larker."

Wheel of Wonder --Lily Kyriakides-Crowe-7th Grade

FRIENDS --Lindsey McNear-6th grade Friends are like the ocean. They wash upside, then go down. Friends can be there and be fun. They can also me mean and selfish. Life is full of surprise, you never know what will happen. You can't control what happens to you but you can control what you do to them.

Our Styles of Art --Rachael Lee and Sara Wheat-7th grade

Sparta --Andrea Estrada-6th grade

ERICA PRATT

--Arden Dabney- 5th grade

This is a true story about 7 year old Erica Pratt. For years, Erica and her younger sister had been living happy lives. Somewhat happy lives. At a very young age Erica's mother had abandoned her children. 2 years after Ms.Pratt had Erica, she had her second child (name unknown). Once Erica's grandmother Barbara Pratt found out that her daughter abandoned her children, Barbara decided that she would take ahold of Erica and her younger sister, for as long as they lived.

Erica never really remembered her mother, but she had heard many good things about her. For five years, the Pratt family lived a very happy, joyful life. On a hot, summer day in July of 2002, Erica and her younger sister were walking home from soccer practice very carefully. In Philadelphia, streets were dangerous... especially for kids like Erica. Their grandmother had always told them to never talk to strangers. Erica and her now five year old sister, were prancing along until a car stopped by them, and two men hopped out. Erica told her sister to stay back while she takes care of whatever was going on. The men asked Erica some questions about their family, and then the "fatter" one grabbed Erica by the neck and dragged her into their white Chevrolet. Soon enough, seven year old Erica Pratt was gone. Her sister went screaming around the neighborhood, "A man took Erica! A man took Erica!" Grandma Pratt found out, and called the police. Meanwhile, the men, James Burns and Edward Johnson were making a mischievous plan. For two weeks, the men had been watching the Pratt family. They had heard that the Pratt's had gotten 150,000 dollars from Barbara Pratt's job. They were going to hold one of the family members for ransom. They didn't plan to take Erica, they just wanted to kidnap the first person they saw out of the house. They had gotten the grandmother's phone number, so they called and said that they would only give Erica back if they got the money. The whole neighborhood had known about the kidnapping now, so they wanted to raise money to get Erica back at home with her family. It was a very poor neighborhood, but soon enough the whole city of Philadelphia chimed in. In one day, they had already raised 10,000 dollars.

Erica was trapped in a small, abandoned house far from her neighborhood, but still in Philadelphia. James and Edward heard that the police were looking for them, so left Erica with a bag of chips and a glass of water for twenty-four hours. It was no use though, because Erica had duct tape around her hands and could not eat anything. She was determined to get out of that disastrous house. First, Erica tried to bite through the duct tape around her hands. It took about two hours and some ruined teeth, but she finally made a cut through her tape. Now, she could unwrap the duct tape off of her feet, because she new she would have to walk. That took her way less than biting through tape (it took her about 1 minute to rip it off). She was finally free. Erica tried to open the door to the stairs, but it was locked. This is where she would use her soccer abilities. Erica tried three times to kick the door open, but it wouldn't budge. She looked around the room for something that she could use to break open the door. In the closet, she found a small bobby pin and a crowbar. She didn't know how to pick locks, but Erica could learn. After tons of tries, she finally opened the door. Erica walked down old, crooked steps that didn't seem stable down to what was the living room of the house. Thirteen year old Dustin and seventeen year old Victoria heard cries of "Help! Help!" so they looked through the keyhole and found a girl badly injured and had duct tape pieces all over her. Erica asked how to get out because the door was locked again. She said that she had a crowbar upstairs, and that gave them an idea. Erica walked/ran up the old, crooked steps again. She almost fell through the stairs when she ran back down, but she made it. Dustin told her to slide the crowbar through the mail slot if it could fit. Surprisingly, it did fit. Victoria cranked open the door and Erica came out screaming "Thank you so much!" Erica called them heroes and told them her story while they walked her to the nearest police station. They didn't want to be known for their kind deed (very brave act), so as soon as the two dropped Erica off, they ran away as fast as they could. The police never found them until the next month. As all families would, the Pratt family was as pleased as they could be. Where did all of the money go that the city raised you ask? Well, half of that money went to Victoria and Dustin, and the other half went to the very kind police officers who helped Erica get back home. The family never let Erica see news footages of her or look at pictures of herself, on the internet. All of the news reporters would ask questions, but Erica never wanted to talk about her kidnapping. "Once Erica forgets about her incident, she usually never wants to talk about it again" said Erica's uncle Joseph Moore jr.

Erica Pratt --Arden Dabney-5th Grade

THE STORY OF MY LIFE

-Noah Mims6th grade

from Honey-crisp apples đ&#x;?&#x17D; Cotton-candy grapes đ&#x;?&#x2021; Peppers in my front yard From the mountains đ&#x;&#x2014;ť To the prairies To the oceans đ&#x;&#x152;&#x160; White with foam I am from a single star in the universe â? ď¸? A grain of sand on the beach đ&#x;&#x152;&#x2026; A droplet of water in the ocean I am as insignificant as a speck of dust đ&#x;&#x201D;Ź Yet I have the power to change the world đ&#x;&#x152;&#x17D;

From sodas and candy đ&#x;? To pizza and ice cream đ&#x;?&#x2022; To popcorn and chocolate đ&#x;?Ť To all of the other things I enjoy I am just one leaf on my 500 year old family tree đ&#x;&#x152;ł One that has roots spreading across the globe From Bulgaria and Germany To America and Mexico All the way to Australia And I am proud of it.

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Koala's Life --Lindsey McNear-6th Grade

Worm's Eye View --Lindsey McNear-6th Grade

The Chairs --Tita Curtin-7th Grade

Baby Tree --Samantha Brown-5th Grade

Blue Eyed Stranger

--Tita Curtin-7th Grade

The Four Horses

--Malou Payne-7th Grade

Dexter --Hannah Benstock-7th Grade

IMAGINING STRENGTH -Tita Curtin7th grade

The wall is dry until the water roars over the dam from the open gates. To the left, a cliff, to the right, a hill.

The rolling grasslands of the hill, fed by the mist, soften the earth, so dry. The cliff

sees its sad reflection in the water, longing to drink from the open gate, but refused any moisture by the dam.

My fears are like the dam, a barrier, keeping me from the joy of the hills. I need a gate, so my earth will not be dry, so bravery can wash over me like water. I do not want to be the cliff.

The sad, jagged lines of the cliff see what is on the other side of the dam. Cool, refreshing water and soft grasses cover the hill. On my side it is dry because of the gate.

I take a deep breath and imagine a gate

opening wide towards the cliff, and away from the hill, allowing moisture to reach me, but my earth is too dry. Bravery sits on the surface, not sinking in because of the dam. Lakes fill with water.

Courage flows in me like water, imagining strength is my gate. My rocks smooth into hills. The hills are grander than what was once a cliff. Both water and drought created by the dam. On one side it is wet, and on the other, it is dry.

When there is no fear, cliffs turn into rolling hills. The water flows when my imagination opens the gate. The dam can no longer keep me dry.

Starburst --Lindsey McNear-6th Grade

SERENITY

-Matthew Erasmus5th grade

The orange sun glistens behind the oak trees and the soft white clouds. The sloshing of the waves makes a soothing, serene sound. I trip and fall on the feather soft sand. I can spot the vibrantly colored orange fish throughout the blue, aqua water. It's a Sunday night, tomorrow will be a Monday. It will be packed with work and teachers who will be blabbing on the whole day. How much I long for another days peace and quiet. The only things breaking the complete tranquility is a throng of boisterous kids. They are playing a game, but only a child would know what it's about. I slowly drift away to a sweet soft dream. I dream about a place where there is no school and only vacation.

MY TREE -Dorothy Davis8th grade I liked my tree. Well, I still like it, I didn't just stop liking it. But that tree was never mine in the first place. I claimed it as mine because I used to lie beneath its curved branches, making up wild fantasies in my mind, betwixt the speckled shadows. The shadows would contort into malevolent wizards, planning to take my royal self away to a desolate tower or fearsome hellions whose gnarled horns I would flit about on gossamer wings. I loved to sit in the soft moss and lean my head back against the rough bark, just thinking, or just reading a book of some adventurous character like Harry Potter or Aslan. Sometimes I would dance and jump around my tree, being a fairy or heroically slaying a mighty dragon while saving some incompetent prince or knight who tried to save me. When it rained, I would sometimes hide beneath the boughs for amusement, pretending to be an orphan girl in a magical world, sheltering herself from the rain, and while using her secret magical powers, brought the stones and acorns to life. Giggling when my fantastical narrative was over, I would rock back on my bare heels, squishing the moss between my curled toes, and inhale the earthy sent caused by the rain soaking into the ground. This tree was on the corner edge of the backyard that my family and two other households shared, back when I lived in Maryland. Since I did not have any neighbors close enough to my age, my parents were always busy, and all the friends that I did not have lived in the city, I was left alone to entertain myself. I could read or play with my stuffed animals in my room, but mainly I liked to play outside, "roaming" the cul-de-sac for adventure. I would play with the sticks and leaves by the pond, making fairy banquets, stalk the neighbors, leaping into their gardens, stealing tomatoes and strawberries, or sit in solemn silence by the big, ignored oak tree.

My tree was on a sort of circular corner edge of the shared yard, take about seven long steps and you are at the curb. I think my tree was an oak tree, because of the acorns it dropped, but I am not certain, for I do not know much about the species of trees. The ground closely surrounding the dark scratchy trunk was mostly soft avocado colored moss and little patches of forest green grass. Dark brown acorn caps, little stones and slate gray pebbles were imbedded into the moss, causing painful obstacles for my bare feet. It always smelled kind of dank and wet and earthy around my tree, but not in a bad way. It did not smell like a moldy fruit cellar or a filthy dungeon of doom, just more of a mossy or forest-like aroma. That smelled always reminded me of really rich and dark flavored bread. Like some sort of better tasting pumpernickel loaf. Since there were not many busy roads or cars nearby, what I usually heard were birds, possibly mourning doves because of the gentle cooing sound they made and their soft gray plumage, but I do not know much about birds. Sometimes I could hear the neighbors talking on their porch or the younger ones playing tag or basketball with its familiar thanks in the street. It was always quite comfortable by my tree, with its cushy moss covering the ground at the base of the tree, like a plush natural rug. The bark was not comfortable, but it did provide a nice, hard surface to lean against. My tree was a big part of my childhood. It made me see the world in a more peaceful and fun way. Just a simple little thing to keep the loneliness away. I really did like my tree.

I AM AN OUTSIDER -Jasmine Wright7th grade The way I am is not under my control. The blessing of dark skin and untamable curly hair came with me before I touched foot on Earth. Literature such as The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton gives readers references to emotions that can be reflected in personal experiences. I learned it does not matter what appears to be on the outside and what people see, but what is hidden deep within. After all, " Maybe the two worlds we lived in weren't so different. We saw the same sunset"(41). Each character has different elements that made each character who they are and their outlook on life, such as Johnny (the sensitive gang member) and Dally (the tough nutshell). Ponyboy expresses that he has a softer touch to his personality because he feels no gang member could ever be soft such as he. He expresses his feelings about how he has more of a dreamy side. In his mind he thinks " For a while there, I thought I was the only person in the world that did. So I loaned it" (2). Ponyboy thinks he is the only person in the world who could really relate to books and movies. Literature, such as "The Outsider's" by S.E. Hinton, allows the reader not only to empathize with other characters, by also to experience situations we would otherwise not be able to do.

It was the year of second grade. My view of being an African-American was about to alter.The leaves were turning yellow and red signaling the season of fall. I was swinging on the swing set with my invisible friend Margie. With crisp wind whipping against my face. All of a sudden I heard an earsplitting voice yelling " Hey stop swinging you might kick me in the face." Since there was no one else there but Margie, I figured the voice must be talking to me. I stopped swinging and looked down to see the two sophisticated girls, Carly and Shannon, staring straight at me with their bright blue piercing eyes .The awkward conversation is still clear in my mind with them giving me all these compliments such as how my eyes looked dazzling in this type of sunlight, and how my pants were all that and a box of crackers. I did not know exactly what to do. These girls were really talking to me, instead of someone I made up myself. Images of me just standing there with this blank look of shock on my face just muttering a "thank you" after every compliment brings the feeling of embarrassment back to me. After a couple minutes of continuous compliments the girls turned their backs from me and started whispering, glancing back at me every few seconds. After what seemed like an eternity of whispers, the girls turned around and asked me to join their classified club. Excitedly replying to them that I would join them in their special club was a moment of complete and utter joy. Remembering Carly and Shannon talking to a few other girls and me about the club having a theme every single week, and each week the girls would be recruiting new members for the club brings the emotion of naive joy to my mind. The meetings were very enjoyable. I was glad to have a group to be around. A couple weeks later before the meeting, Carly and Shannon pulled me over and told me I couldn't be apart the club. The theme of the week concerned girls with white skin and since I didn't have that, I was out. At first I did not understand why I couldn't be apart of the club. I yearned to do something about it. Creeping into my classroom I took the white color out the crayon bin. I started scratching at my skin with the crayon praying, wishing

and willing that I would be white. My teacher found me sitting in the corner working with my crayon. She was so shocked and stunned she rushed me to the bathroom and helped me wipe off the crayon that had managed to be marked onto my skin. My teacher made me sit down and explain to her why I was scratching at my skin with a crayon. That experience was a long time ago and I learned that everyone came in different sizes and shapes. If my second grade brain could only comprehend what that meant. After I explained to her why I wanted to have the white skin she told me that it should not matter about skin color. Carly and Shannon should appreciate me with or without the white skin. Over time, I took that advice as a lesson that I don't need to change for anybody. If I want to be apart of a group the group will love my dark skin and appreciate that they have another ingredient in the mix. Changing myself for someone else will get me nowhere. So after that I went back to playing with Margie and I was happy. Margie did not judge. The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton leads readers to literature by the content and the author being able to feel the same emotions the reader has felt. Dally feels that life is not worth the time and thought for love, and song, and happiness. However, Ponyboy feels that even though life has downfalls,disappointments, and pain maybe there is something worth being here for. From my experience, I learned that we all have different characteristics. Everyone gets dipped into a specific pool of looks that no one else has. From everything I have learned about us as a people, we all have beauty inside and out.

Sunday Brunch --Hayden Hanslik-7th Grade

Clara --Anna Brown-6th Grade

THE BOTTOM BUNK -Tita Curtin7th grade

Buena Vista, Colorado I belong to the cool mountain air. I come home from a long day of skiing. I bring a mug of hot cocoa To my bottom bunk.

I lay in my bunk and feel my sunburned face, Chapped lips, The snowflakes disappearing into my skin. I belong to the crunchy footprints in the snow. I belong to the Rocky Mountains, Crisp and cool like clean breaking ice.

I belong to the woods. I belong to the sound of laughter That flows down the stairs to my bottom bunk. I belong to the dreams, To the place of my security, But most of all, I belong to the bottom bunk Where the warm, cozy Air flows from the air vents, Warming me ever so gently, Ever so sweet.

ODE TO KING ARTHUR -Jasmine Wright7th grade All hail King Arthur Our God chosen knight Our valiant leader Who will guide us through strife For when he was young Without grunt or moan He did the impossible And pulled Excalibur out of the stone And the people rejoiced For their King had come To be there in need And to be there for everyone He was placed on the thrown The land full of clear skies Arthur, a merciful king, And listened to their cries From battles with Pellinore To quests for the Holy Grail He always fought his best And always prevailed

At his side stood Merlin With magic and wisdom for aid The two became unbeatable But the glory will fade With the sword Excalibur And his trusty scabbard He would lose little blood And his health would not stagger From Balan and Balyn The most unfortunate knight They both killed each other In that tenacious fight Along came Guinevere A warning Merlin gave But the two were married A road of love they did pave From the Knights of Table Joined together and round Sat one-hundred and fifty knights The room abound "Hush," cried Merlin "Here comes a marvelous sight!" First came the white hart Faster than light Behind was the Bratchet And pack of black hounds Chasing the hart and bratchet Around and around

It started with King Abelleus Took the bratchet and rode away Then the fair damsel came Her eyes all astray Claiming the bratchet to be her's The damsel said with proclamation The Knights had no clue How to handle this situation Then a strange knight entered Meaning to interrupt Took the damsel away Swift and abrupt Then Merlin replied With no hint of jest "We need three gallant knights To take on this quest" With Gawain for the hart Pellinore the damsel and knight and Tor for Abelleus Those three were out of sight

Sir Gawain and Sir Blauemore In a duel colored red Gawain pinned him down And tried to cut of his head Before the sword hit and Gawain took his life someone took the lethal stroke Sir Blauemore's wife

Sir Tor came amongst a pavilion looking for the knight but pass he couldn't without a vigorous fight Sir Tor searched and searched And what was he to find The bratchet white as snow And King Abelleus close behind The two knights fought Foe against foe A damsel asked for his head And Tor took it with a blow King Pellinore sat alongside a well Rivers of tears flew down his face For he, King Pellinore, committed a great disgrace He was so focused Upon his great quest He ignored the poor damsal's Desperate request On return of the well The ground stained with radiant red Pellinore's daughter Alyne Was gone and dead Many lessons were learned The day of Misery The knights needed rules to follow The Code of Chivalry From Gawain and the Green Knight With the maiden and green lace Trials of honor and obedience

Gawain did face With Tristam slaying the fearful dragon Squish went the spear Driving towards the dragon's heart Tristam prevailed even through fear

From Tristam and Iseult With unbinding love The beauty was pure As a remarkable white dove These stories display Acts of politics,military, and morality And some do believe These were actually reality The stories blossom From one eternal thing The person who held Logres together Arthur the King But whatever happened to Arthur For his death is still unknown Was the story just a legend Or among us he does roam

THE MICE, THE PRINCE, AND THE GIRL -Simone Chi-Ferson8th grade A pitiful soul, this poor little girl Overworked, abused, her hair left with no curl This plight was quite sad, a stepchild was she, Mean stepsisters, those two, would not let her be. Cinderellaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s friends were so few, and when they did meet, They helped her with work, keeping everything neat So tired at night, as she lay down to sleep The friendly birds sang songs so rest would be deep. Then the royal ball would soon come, prince, king, queen, and all While her stepfamily dressed, their care very small, Her chance at going quite slim, she tried to accept She stayed home and waited and waited and wept. The Fairy Godmother did come, with words wiser and stronger Convinced Cinderella to dress and go, but till midnight and no longer, She danced and caught the eye of the prince fair, But how can she go so soon, how can she dare?

Her dress wide and shiny, the color of bright blue sky, Her slippers all glass and see through to the human eye, Cinderella’s hair was bright gold, put up in a bun, And her face, all the happiness, did not regret what had been done. But time is of the essence, and no time did she have When the clock struck twelve, midnight and her heart split in halve, She ran away fast, ignoring the prince’s cry, And while doing so, she lost a shoe, not wanting the spell to die. The pumpkin, a carriage, transformed magically, The mice, snow white horses, turning tragically, The horse and dog, not people at all, And her gown replaced by a brown dirty dress and a fall. A pumpkin patch near, a foot or two away, She dove for cover, only to find herself in hay, The men sent by the prince ran by quite fast, No one noticing the one slipper made of pure shiny glass. Cinderella heard news of the prince’s request, For every girl to try on the slipper and see whose foot fit best, Absent-mindedly singing the song from last night, Her stepmother figured,” It’s her alright!” The evil woman had a plan; she knew it had to work, So her wealth could increase, oh that little jerk, She would lock the girl up in her bedroom the whole time, While the stepsisters tried the slipper and made sure it fit fine. The glass shoe was quite small, and fragile of course, But the stepsisters had big feet and even with all the force, They could not manage to keep their big feet in, Though they pushed and they squeezed, they could not win. The mice cleverly snuck into the pocket that held the key, They would accomplish the goal of setting Cinderella free,

The hardest part would be going up the tall stairs, But even so they went up like tiny brown bears. Cinderella was crying, tears all over the floor, But the mice appeared and slid the key under the door, She unlocked the lock, walking carefully down, She didn’t want to trip and look like a clown. “Wait, I’m here,” she cried to the men, They smiled and came over but then… One little man tripped, the glass slipper flying in the air, “No problem,” she said and pulled out the other pair. Her stepmother gasped, the stepsisters wailing, Their plan had been ruined and now it was failing, Cinderella put on the tiny glass slipper, The two men smiled, their grins wide as the big dipper. Now Cinderella is married to the prince fair, Her whole stepfamily giving her mean glares. That is story of the dear girl Cinderella, Maybe she’ll name her child Bella.

Spartan Helmet --Margaret Hudson-6th Grade

LEAVES IN THE FOREST -Lauren Erasmus7th Grade We used to lie here Our backs against the coarse bark of the tree Rays of sun played hide and seek through shy branches We used to run our hands through the clumps of grass Faded green, gentle and soft The earthly dirt gathered under our nails You were in love with anger I was controlled by sadness And there we were, somehow so apathetic to the world Talking till the sun slept under the covers of the moonlight Listening to your thoughts I liked being with you Laughing with you Counting the leaves on the trees like stars But stars can fly Mine flew away And that's where we used to lie

WILD ANIMALS CAN NOT BE TAMED

Anonymous

8th grade

Walter loved the water, and he liked how close his name was to the word. He loved how the sun at the beach reflected off the sand onto his straw blond hair and the way the water felt on his skin. His step-dad would take him to the ocean every month and Walter would stay for hour after hour in the seaweed-infested bay, not caring that the day was slipping away. On one such day, which started out much like any other, waking up at five and driving to Galveston Island, a sandy beach about two hours away, Walter was floating, as usual, in the shallow water of the cove, his father gone to get towels. He heard noises rising up from the beach, a mixture of hushed voices and pounding shouts. He raised his head out of the water to see what the commotion was about, and to his surprise, there was a large stingray, its tail tangled in one of the many abandoned fishing nets inhabiting the bay. Walter rolled off the inflatable raft he was lying on and stood up, the cold water reaching to just above his stomach. He began to drag his feet through the thick silt toward the larger beast. As he approached, he could see that the stingray was easily longer than he was tall. Walter quickly saw that the ray was going to be left stranded on the beach as the tide went out. The animal was thrashing about psychotically, throwing the pointed barb in every direction, not allowing

anyone to get close. As he neared it, the beast made eye contact with Walter, both of them froze, the animal calmed, and the crowd hushed. He could see that the animal was scared, a sea beast, caught on this sun-drenched beach, his water betraying him little by little. Walter bent down by the now still tail of the ray and started unwinding the net from the animal’s tail, slick with water and hot from the sun. As he unwound the last string of rope from the animal, he looked into its eyes again, and that connection came again, the one that Walter had felt before. As soon as the ray was free, it slowly lifted its tail, and slammed it to the left, imbedding the barb in Walter’s stomach. Walter sank to his knees, a façade of shock frozen on his face. His lungs uttered a sound, much like that of a whimpering kitten, as he toppled to the ground. His last thought before he blacked out was a feeling of overwhelming joy, the animal’s betrayal meant nothing compared to the strange connection Walter had felt with the rare behemoth, a silver lining that outshone the cloud. While the crowd was hushed, frozen in shock, the ray simply swam calmly away, swishing his tail as if to wash off the barb.

TRAGEDY AT THE DAYTONA 500 -James Conor Matula-Rebello5th grade The smell of burning rubber was in the air and every car at the Daytona 500 had just taken a pit stop. Richard Petty’s team had only put on its right side tires. The left side tires slowly deteriorated, getting thinner and thinner. Twenty laps later Petty’s left side back tire had blown out causing him to spin into the right side wall. Dale Earnhardt Sr., in his number three car, was not far behind him. The front side of his car crashed into Petty’s tail side. His engine exploded, projecting dozens of pieces of tiny shrapnel into his body. An ambulance came on to the track and carried Dale Earnhardt Sr. away. The wounds later killed him. Dale Earnhardt Sr.’s death rocked the Daytona Motor Speedway and the racing world. Dale Earnhardt Sr.’s family was shocked, but they were also extremely angry with Petty and his crew. They wanted to press charges, but Petty wanted to help the Earnhardt family. Being a friend of Dale Earnhardt Sr., Petty thought he could help Dale Earnhardt Jr., understand that Petty didn’t mean for this tragedy to happen. Dale Jr. tried hard to forgive Petty but he couldn’t. He did let Petty help financially. Petty stopped racing for a few months to help the Earnhardt family. Not only for this reason but also because a lawsuit was filed against him. Dale Earnhardt Sr.’s parents still wanted to sue Petty, even though he was helping the family. It was a seventy million dollar lawsuit for the death of their son. The judge ruled that Petty was innocent because a further investigation and an autopsy of Dale Earnhardt Sr.’s body found that he had an illegal substance in his system, during the time of the crash. This illegal substance may have caused him to drive head first into Petty’s car exploding his engine. After losing the lawsuit, Earnhardt’s parents were furious with the judge and their dead son. They thought that if their son had not had an illegal drug in his system then they could have avenged his death in a non-criminal way. The truth in NASCAR is that these types of situations sometimes cannot be avoided. Petty attended Dale Earnhardt Sr.’s funeral. Petty even spoke at the

funeral about what a good driver and good friend Dale was to him. He truly was a friend to Petty. Dale talked with Petty and Jeff Gordon before every Sprint Cup Race in which all three of them competed. Now that trio was broken. The Earnhardt family came to realize that Petty had meant no harm initially, and certainly not after the accident. Petty continued to help the Earnhardt family recover. When Dale Earnhardt Jr. first entered the Sprint Cup series he and Petty were bitter enemies. It was a close call for first place between the two in almost every race. Dale Jr. always wanted to prove that his father was a better racer and a better man then Petty. You could see the anger boiling inside Earnhardt Jr.’s eyes after every race he lost to Petty. Even though he was so young he had a desire to win badly, for his father and for the glory. Being so young, perhaps he did not appreciate the peace that developed between the Petty and Earnhardt families. Months after the accident NASCAR came out with evidence, that again shocked the racing world. Upon further investigation and after listening to radio transmissions between Petty and his crew, NASCAR determined the accident was actually caused by Petty’s pit crew. The crew had decided he only needed tires on one side of the car. On the other side of the car, there was so much wear that they burst, and the rim became exposed, causing the car to spin out of control. Eventually Dale Jr. realized that it was mainly the pit crew’s fault his father died. Petty wanted all new tires but the pit crew and its chief didn’t put them on the car.

Epilogue Three months later... Richard Petty has started his thirty-fifth, and final Sprint Cup season. Dale Earnhardt Jr. was just starting his second. Dale Jr. carried on his father’s tradition of talking with Petty and Gordon before every race. Today was the Ford Ecoboost 500. It was a close call for first between Earnhardt Jr. and Gordon. Gordon came out in front. After many more races the three became even closer friends. There has been no tension between the Petty and Earnhardt families since the controversial crash, and there will probably never be any again.

THE IRISH GRAVEYARD -Eva Wolfe5th grade I can see trees, and beautiful greenery surrounding the gates of the after life. Keeping the horrible sight of corpses in peace, and keeping the world safe. As the corpses decay, the grass grows greener. Mother Nature is calling for beauty. You can hear the sound of the wind hushing the violence to sleep. Trees swaying and rain dropping. It smells of fresh water and dew. Damp plants and rain. The grass feels soft on your hands, and the water softly drops on you. It tastes like heaven, and fresh water.

A WORLD OF LIGHT -Lauryn McClung8th grade In the world there is darkness, there is horror, and there is death. But in the middle of all that there is light, there is life, and there is forgiveness. Now the middle may seem inferior to whats around it, but it shines brightly when you need it most. This may come as a shock to you if you live in a world with no light but just look really hard and you will find something that shines as brightly as the sun. Some of you may think I'm crazy but some of you may think I'm a prophet but to me there is no difference. You may be the craziest person on this earth but speak the most beautiful words that were ever Spoken. All it takes is courage, courage to fight that darkness that surrounds the light. It may seem like a scary formidable force that you can't break but when you try your hardest and you are brave the light will shine brighter and destroy the darkness that surrounds it. It may seem impossible because sometimes it is, you feel that you have no power against the darkness but the only things you need are love and forgiveness. It doesn't matter if you're the strongest person on the earth because the darkness will just overcome you, you will not be able to fight against it with strength. The only way to save the Light from burning out against the darkness is to add more light to the light that already burns.

COUSIN TIME -Isabella

Forney-

6th Grade I was imagining myself as a fairy and I was jumping up and down on a cloud. A big, puffy, white cloud. My cousins were other fairies, and we would all jump up and down together at my grandparents' house. My grandparents' house is in Colorado. It is a very big house, with a big yard in the back, and that is where the jumpy is. There are stairs from the house leading to the back, and at the top was a balcony where all the adults were watching us. I always loved going there, because they would always have a jumpy. I was so happy jumping in there with all of my cousins, like I had just won the lottery. My cousins are so fun to play with, they are like my best friends. We would do tricks for each other to make the others say ooh and aah. I can hear my cousin Sydney's

voice,"Can I hold the video camera?" I can hear my cousin Madeleine's voice,"Watch this trick, Bella!" It was a magical place, in there with all of the people I loved to hang out with. Even though I was four, I felt like I could do anything I wanted to. There was laughter and fun filling the jumpy. My cousin Austin goes down the slide, and he does a trick. I can hear my mom's voice,"Amazing trick, Austin!" We do other tricks and the others would laugh. It was so fun, and I hope to do that again sometime.

Fire of Love --Eve Kroencke-5th grade

ODE TO KING ARTHUR -Jack Quander7th grade Swoosh! the sword is out of the stone What will come is not known With Pellinore he battled Leaves all enemies rattled A magical lady he meets at the lake From her his sword, Excalibur, does he take A special table they gather around Guinevere, his true love, he has found The Knights sit at the Round Table They see something like a fable Dogs, maidens, and harts run by Off on a quest to find out why Spying a boat and no Captain in sight, They make a party for the night When morning comes, each knight in a new place A castle, a dungeon, and a wife's face A trickster's treachery puts knight vs. knight Is Arthur ready for the fight? Excalibur is with his foe But this Arthur does not know In the forest a wounded man appears, He is carried by Lancelot, the bravest knight there is At once, Arthur grants Merlin's last request Lancelot is now a knight and ready for a quest

Lancelot, braver than 10,000 men, Sets off on a quest to prove he can win Sleep deeper than the ocean One runs off, another is taken for his commotion The sight of Morgana starts a grim day Forced to pick the woman who will stay None are worthy to share his life He will wait for Guinevere to be his wife He pays the price to be true Into the dungeon with more than a few He can free them all with one fight After broken spears, he wins with might Arthur is the best of all He is handsome and tall The king of awards The most adored

Untitled -- Anna Belle Bayley -8th Grade

THE BOOK OF LIFE -Eve Kroencke5th Grade There is no certain book that changed my perspective on the world. There is no certain book, because all of them have. I can't choose just one. All the books on this very earth changed my perspective on the world. In The Bible Jesus preformed the impossible, Harry Potter lived without a mother or father and became the most famous wizard in the world, and then there's us. Who are we? Well we are the ones who created what we live in today, but who gave us the brains to do it? God, right? Well, he is in a book too! If I had to choose just one book it would be the book of life. The author of this book you might ask? Well truly it's all of us, plus the Lord our God and Jesus Christ. We add on to these silk pages with our delicate ink pen every single day. I took a walk to the park a few days ago. But I wasn't thanking the Lord for giving me the ability to write my own book. Nor was I listing to the white winged doves flying above our heads. I was just talking to a couple of friends about what we were going to do later. That's exactly what we as humans do, talk. That is our way of writing. Some people cannot write, or think that they have a terrible way with words. Others write nonstop with their hearts in the right place. But truly the book I'm telling you about is about these words love, patients, hardship, perseverance, and most of all the faith you have in yourself.

The Shadow of the Sun --Eve Kroencke-5th Grade

Autumn --Eve Kroencke-5th Grade

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MY SHOES -Lindsey McNear

6th grade

The was people treat me. They think I'm just a shadow. All they see me is a shadow with no voice. At night when there is no light there is no me. I do have one thing. It's my shoes. I got it when I stared in the sky and prayed someone would see one part of me and they did. There blue and teal. I light people up some way. I don't know how. They can't see my face. They just smile when they look at my shoes. I love it. I love seeing people happy. I like going around town finding unhappy people to make them smile. One person smiled and went to go get flowers to give to everyone he saw for one hour. I love myself now.

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THE PLACES I AM FROM -Lindsey McNear5th grade I am from the dirt and horses that roam the dirt. I am from the big trees that that grow in parks. I am from the dust on cars from going everywhere. I am from the mud that is made from dust and oil. I am from the junk I see in people. I am from the good and bad choices people have made. I am from the accidents that have happened.

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I am from the pain that has been heard across the state. I am from the triers and the give ups. I am from the boring stuff and the treasures for others. I am from the smiles to the disappoints. I am from the helpers and the no gives. I am from the wars and deaths. I am from the smarts and the nots. I am from the sorrow that I have heard. I am from a questionable place. I am from things that have been past down. I am from the sun and the moon. I am from the dark and light. I am from the day and night. I am from I am from I am from a question I ask every day. I am from the... What am I from?

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"I am from" is answered until this questionable place is over. Then I will know where I'm from. I hope I will know where I'm from one day. I am from God.

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CLARA -Anna Brown6th grade Clara who is my dearest cousin Clara who is only 10 Clara who loves her ipad Who plays minecraft everyday and asks for chopped bananas Who is as white as snow on the orange tree in my grandmothers backyard Who is an ugg or ice skate Whose hair is brown with "precisely 2 highlights" as she says Who plays with dresses and let's me do her hair and makeup for fun Who asks in her perfect Alabama southern accent for her "Mama" to blame her brother for something he did Who asks me for things on Minecraft Who has hazel eyes that wrinkle because of her smile Who ice skates like she can let go and spread her wings Who talks as if she wrote the dictionary, when she says that her brother shows haste Who hugs me as tight as she can Who loves to go in the woods and play family Who makes markers for us so we do not get lost Clara who I love!

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Fruit Basket --Nicholas Yum-7th Grade

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The 7th grade Literary Publication Fine Arts Elective made a call to the entire Presbyterian Middle School in January 2015 for literary and arts submissions. All materials submitted were done with consent by the author. We made every attempt to preserve the integrity of each author’s voice and each artist’s work. The Literary Publication class spent many hours of thought and discussion over the design and content for this literary and arts magazine. This is a magazine for the middle school students by the middle school students. Laynie Bracewell Literary Publication Teacher