Rebirth
Pinnacle 2015
Award Winners Art
Medusoza | Kelley Reilley Photography
Acer Palmatum | Erin McCaughey Poetry
Frankly in an Unlocked Heart | Garrett Hefner Prose
Redemption | Cameron Emely Music
Tunnels | Conrad Gagnon
Outside Cover Art - Sunset, Nicole Ishak ’15
Rebirth Pinnacle 2015
“We all hope for breakthrough rebirth moments.”
~ Dane Cook
VOLUME XLVIII
Staff Editors-in-Chief ~ Kathy Deaver & Rawlison Zhang Art Editor ~ Nicole Ishak Layout Editor ~ Vanillae Tong Photography Editor ~ Hailey Ishak Proofreading Editors ~ Katie Benisch & Angela DeCarlo Publicity Editor ~ Jamie Teramani Moderators ~ Alison Amato & Allison Hall Other Editors ~ Adriana Guidi, Brooke Hare, William Jump, Charlotte Molali, Megan King, Alexander Nyce & Shelby Umbarger
Colophon The 2015 Pinnacle was designed solely by students using the Adobe InDesign software. 800 copies were printed by School Publications Company in Neptune, New Jersey. The cover was printed on 100 lb. glass paper, and the inside pages were printed on 80 lb. gloss text paper. The Pinnacle selects material for publication from the submissions of John Carroll students. Works are selected for publishing based on their individual artistic merits. Works in any medium are considered.
Special Acknowledgements The Pinnacle Staff of 2015 would like to acknowledge Ms. Amato and Ms. Hall for their never-ending support as our advisors during this production. We wish them the best of luck next year.
The Pinnacle The John Carroll School 703 Churchville Road Bel Air, Maryland 21014
Contents Vivification
My Name is Eliza Victoria Caldwell ’16 Frankly in an Unlocked Heart Garrett Hefner ’17 Sure Christina He ’18 Untitled Chul Park ’16 Azul Faith Ensor ’16 Mind Games Nicole Kanaras ’18 The Lonely, Not-So-Lonely Heart Danielle Connolly ’17 The Electric Wizard Dreseden Boulden ’15 The Watchmaker Garrett Hefner ’17 Reaching Out Jessica Hastings ’15 Michael Jackson Jerome Brown ’15 Connected Katherine Runser ’16 Knowledge Elijah Long ’15 Numb Katherine Sullivan ’16 New Beginning Kimbal Mackenzie ’15 Meryl & Charlie Beth Sapitowicz ’17 Untitled Lauren Brulinski ’15 School Stress Malik Tyne ’15 Persephone Opus 01 Nicole Ishak ’15 Redemption Cameron Emely ’17 Frozen Moment Yena Kim ’17 Kinoaha Nicole Ishak ’15
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Pinnacle 2015 Renewal Fly Away Angela Niceli ’17 Let Your Light Shine Taiylor Kriss ’17 Plane Down Conor O’Brien ’16 Blue Angels Jamie Teramani ’15 Words From the Soul Rachel Amrhein ’15 Whatever Floats Your Boat Taylor Brewer ’17 Gears Logan Elliott ’17 Painful Rain Garrett Hefner ’17 Untitled Chul Park ’16 Medusoza Kelley Reilley ’16 Kitty Love Daphne Karas ’17 Old Time Pictures Emmy Dallam ’15
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Spring to Life Landing Jamie Teramani ’15 Flower Brooke Hare ’17 Leafy Daze Ava McDermott ’17 Bel Air David Carrier ’16 Leaves Leaving Giana Liberatore ’17 The Changing Mateus Macceri ’15 Trees Henry Peng ’16 Something Great Jesseca Dunnett ’17 Riddler Jacob Rosaschi ’15 Acer Palmatum Erin McCaughey ’17 A Night Never Forgotten David Carrier ’16 Recreation of “Sunset on Venice” Nicole Iorio ’15 Troll Bridge Rachel Amrhein ’15
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Autumn Bliss Sara Dieter ’17 River Dream Taylor Sommer ’16 Sun Diego Kathryn Benisch ’15 Driftwood Reminds Me of Winter Erin Paradiso ’16 Tree Adrianna Guidi ’17 Depending on the Rain Victoria Caldwell ’16 Glimmer Vanillae Tong ’16 Park Here Madison Taylor ’15 Saltwater Hailey Ishak ’17 Stripes and Sunshine Hailey Ishak ’17 New Heights Danielle Connolly ’17 Soaring High Zach Miller ’17 Tunnels Conrad Gagnon ’16
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Pinnacle 2015 My Name is Eliza Victoria Caldwell ’16
My name is Eliza, though most people just drop off the “e” and call me Liza. I live in a small city in Georgia called Montrose with my family, or at least a couple of lonely people that just barely resemble a family. I have a little sister named Margaret, though we call her Peggy because she hates the way Margaret sounds. She’s pretty opinionated for a 6-year-old, which can be pretty annoying. I was 5 when she was born, which was about the same time when things started to really go downhill. It was normal in our household for my parents to bicker, but their arguments quickly grew more frequent and more violent after my father got laid off work, which meant there was little income to support a wife, a 5-year-old, and a newborn baby. My mother tried to find work, but it was hard to keep a job when you had a baby to look after, and I had been too selfish to offer any help to my tired, overworked mother. What little money we had saved up was quickly depleted by my father’s alcohol addiction, and I saw less and less of him as time went on, especially after my mother forced him to move out. Occasionally I would catch him wandering around town, looking poor and lost, but I never bothered to talk to him. I’m 11 now, and the only time I see him is when he comes by begging my mother for some money. I know this because I can always hear them shouting, even after my mother shuts Peggy and I out of the house so we won’t be around to see it. I could never understand why these things happened. After my mother had to work two jobs to support our family, she didn’t have much time for me. Either she was working, or playing with baby Peggy, or getting drunk on the weekends to stifle her sorrow, but it wasn’t long before we drifted apart. I searched for her attention, but I rarely received it, and I began to lash out at her and Peggy. I met a few kids in our small town who were in the same boat as me, poor, who smoked cigarettes and broke into the houses of people who had more money than we did. It wasn’t long before I joined them, abandoning my family altogether. I stole, but I only ever used the money for myself. Looking back, I’m sure my mother knew, but she was too busy to try and stop me. Either way, she wouldn’t have been able to. I think she knew that. My anger festered when I was with these kids, fueled by the malice that they felt toward their own families. Irritation at my situation evolved into anger, and that anger quickly grew to hatred. I hated my father, my mother, and my life. And I hated Peggy the most at first because I thought that she was the curse that had brought the havoc upon my family. Later, when she was old enough to express her personality, I hated her because of how much better she was than me. I hated how smart she was and how helpful and how brave, even though we were barely making it by, living from hand to mouth. And here I was, after everything went wrong, drifting away and hanging with the other delinquent kids in town; never raising a finger to help my mother who worked day and night at two different jobs just to clothe us and get food on the table. I hated how Peggy was always smiling, like she knew she was perfect, always looking on the bright side, always helping out. It had been a cloudy day when Peggy came running up to me, a cheerful smile on her face as she asked if I could come with her to help mother hang out the laundry to dry. I said no,
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spitting the word at her. She asked why not, and I glared at her, an expression so full of malice I wasn’t surprised when her smile faltered and she took a step back. “Why do you have to be so grumpy all the time?” she asked, not accusatory or bitterly, just a simple inquiry – as easy as asking why the sky is blue or why the birds fly south in the winter. I thought about not answering, but the anger inside me, the hatred I felt toward my family bubbled up inside me, too fast for me to stop the volcanic eruption of my emotions before they exploded in a fiery inferno of rage. “Because I didn’t ask for any of this, okay?” I responded, yelling at my sister now. “Because I don’t deserve to have a dad who’s never around or a mom who can barely pay the bills. And neither do you!” My anger kept flowing outward in waves, and I pelted my little sister with terrible insults. “And it’s pretty annoying that you just take it all without a complaint like the perfect little martyr you are. Always smiling and laughing and acting like nothing’s wrong, when we both know everything is a huge mess! How can you stand it?!” She tried to approach me comfortingly but my hand raised instinctively to sharply slap her across the face. Peggy stumbled backward, falling onto her back with one hand clutched to her face where I had struck her. I paused to breathe, feeling a lot emptier now that I had ejected all of the feelings I had kept inside for so long. Not caring at all about my little sister who I should be protecting, or my mother who did all she could to keep us alive. Caring only about myself. I hardly felt any remorse for slapping Peggy, who was still holding her cheek. Maybe that’s why I was so surprised at her next words. “Because,” Peggy smiled at me, her eyes full of some kind of wisdom I knew I would never have, even if I lived a hundred years, “sometimes things just have to get a whole lot worse before they can get better. We just have to make it by until that time comes.” She looked at me with her big, brown eyes, full of warmth and understanding. And even though she didn’t say anything more, the message was clear. “I love you, even though you may not like me. And we’ll get through this. Together.” I hated her more than I ever had at that moment. But I was filled with another emotion as well, and it wasn’t until much later that I realized that feeling was love. And it wasn’t until much, much later that I even began to understand why I was so angry at Peggy, even though she had done nothing to me personally. The thing is, we always feel the need to blame the bad stuff on something; we need to find a way to make sense out of the unlucky parts of life because we can’t understand why it had to happen to us. I had blamed it on my sister, only because I was angry and vengeful and she was the closest reason I had to blame my troubles on. But it was right at that moment that I realized Peggy, my baby sister, was the only one who knew how to handle a life gone wrong the right way: by putting a smile on your face and finding the good in every moment. Getting to my feet, I reached down and took hold of her hand, holding it firmly in mine. I pulled her to her feet, brushing the dirt off of her dress. “C’mon. Let’s go help Mom.”
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Pinnacle 2015 Frankly in an Unlocked Heart As you say your stress I take away. Mine too you seem to take with you. Your kind smile is a ray of sunlight into an abandoned house, Your unending humor keeps a grin plastered on my face, Your heart is a dam overflowing with love for others, You are a slave to kindness, but your master is rewarding, The concern you show for others rivals a mother to her child, Like a candle in the darkness, you bring me safety and security. There are not enough words to describe your complex and unique character, Your optimistic outlook on life, Frankly in an unlocked heart, A friend can be found. ~ Garrett Hefner ’17
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Sure, Christina He ’18
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Untitled, Chul Park ’16
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Azul, Faith Ensor ’16
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Mind Games,
Nicole Kanaras ’18
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The Lonely, Not-So-Lonely Heart The twisting, tumbling mind of hers, Gives her no rest and often stops The torrent to start new panics, to let her Contemplate her lonely, not-so-lonely heart. Her family are the ones she loves, She talks to them more than she does Anyone else around her; she lets them Feel the warmth of her lonely, not-so-lonely heart. Even her family can stress her out, And her acquaintances are seldom bothered with. To get her through the day, she relies on her own thoughts; she lets them Tug at and distract her lonely, not-so-lonely heart. She knows she should put herself out there, But that just proves to be too much. She hopes that God forgives her if that’s wrong; she lets Him Fill with His love her lonely, not-so-lonely heart. ~ Danielle Connolly ’17
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The Electric Wizard, Dresden Boulden ’15
Pinnacle 2015
The Watchmaker There once was a watchmaker who wanted to make his masterpiece, A watch that could run for eternity. He forged the gears and placed them precisely, Making sure that they fit nicely. He shouted, "Finished!" and it was done. He wound it up and let it run. He watched it run all day and night, Until one day something wasn't right. A gear was stuck and refused to spin, So he grabbed some oil and dropped it in. The oil set in and the gears began turning, To his other work the watchmaker began returning. He keeps working and maintaining the gears, Day and night for infinite years. ~ Garrett Hefner ’17
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Reaching Out, Jessica Hastings ’15
Rebirth
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Pinnacle 2015 Michael Jackson Big head flat head everybody gone mad On the news in the public everybody gone sad Ignorant arrogant everybody gone bad Boom boom clap clap everybody gone down All I wanna say is that they don’t really care about us All I wanna say is that they don’t really care about us Strike me dislike me you will never crack me Do me tingle me you will never get rid of me Punch me punt me you will still love me Boot me stomp me don’t you black or white me All I wanna say is that they don’t really care about us All I wanna say is that they don’t really care about us Big head, flat head everybody gone sad Fear me charge me please don’t disregard me On the news in the public everybody gone wild Smack me bat me you can never pack me ~ Jerome Brown ’15
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Connected, Katherine Runser ’16
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Knowledge Dribbling up the court, I see the crowd staring. What do I do with the rock in my hand? Do I pass? Do I shoot? Or do I take it to the hoop? Sweat dripping down my face and my heart races: Do I pass? Do I shoot? Or do I take it to the hoop? Passing the half-court line, still not knowing what to do. The shot clock is ticking and the crowd is still staring: Do I pass? Do I shoot? Or do I take it to the hoop? The opponent starts playing pressure D. My heart pounding, hands sweating, still not knowing what to do: Do I pass? Do I shoot? Or do I take it to the hoop? ~ Elijah Long ’15
Numb, Katherine Sullivan ’16
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Rebirth New Beginning
Kimbal Mackenzie ’15 It was the summer of 2008, and Robert was moving to Flint, Michigan with his family. This cross-country move annoyed him because he loved everything about where he had grown up in Austin, Texas; all of his best friends were there, he loved his school, and he got along well with everyone. What bothered him most, however, was the reason behind the move. “Mom, I need some new cleats! I’ve had these ones for three weeks now!” said Will, Robert’s younger, stronger, better-looking, and more athletic brother. Not only did Will get the good-looking and athletic genes, but he was also the reason for their entire family taking off across the country. Fourteen-year-old Will was the top-ranked football player in his area. A school in Flint, arguably the top football school in the nation, had offered Will the opportunity to go to school for free and promised that a Division 1 scholarship would come as a result of attending the school. This was why Robert’s family had to pick up everything they had and to move North. Every time Will spoke, it irritated Robert beyond belief. Looking at his parents in the front seats and over at his brother, watching some stupid football highlights on his phone, he took in his situation. I’m leaving all my friends, my school, my neighborhood, my house… For this little brat?! I hate my family, and I hate football! *** Robert’s first day of school was miserable. He was lost in the giant, sports-focused school, he had no clue where his classes were, and he felt excluded. Will, on the other hand, was having a great day; he was immediately greeted by the football squad and had a riot during lunch and in between classes. To make things even worse, Robert had to wait around after school, doing nothing because Will had a football practice… for three hours! Robert hated his new school; he hated being in the shadow of his younger brother, but most of all, he hated not being able to see his old buddies from Texas. Robert’s parents knew he was very upset, and they felt badly about it. “This move is killing Robert. It’s not fair for him,” said Steve, Robert’s father. “I know, honey, but I don’t think this is an opportunity that we should pass up; this has always been Will’s dream,” said Tracy. “You should go talk to Rob.” Steve spoke with Robert, and all he asked was that Robert give it a chance. Steve knew that Robert desperately wanted to move back to Texas, but if Robert tried to enjoy himself and was still miserable, then they would send him back to Texas. Robert agreed. Alright, I’ll act like I’m trying to enjoy myself for a couple weeks, cheer on stupid Will, and then finally go back home, Robert thought. *** It was Friday, and that meant game day under the lights. Will was more than excited, and to his parent’s surprise, Robert seemed excited as well. As he came down for breakfast, Robert gave Will some words of support.
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“Kill it out there today, buddy. Do what you do!” said Robert, even though he didn’t sincerely mean it. *** It was that time of night: kickoff! Robert sat in the stands with his parents, away from the student section. The game started, and the atmosphere was amazing; the fans were going nuts, there were cheerleaders, and everyone was wearing blue and orange, the school colors. The game was intense, but the opposing team was crushing the Flint High Raiders, who were down 14-0. Will hadn’t touched the field yet. Robert’s parents were disappointed that Will wasn’t playing, and surprisingly, so was Robert. “PUT WILL IN THE GAME!” yelled Robert from the stands and then proceeded to sit down awkwardly as people began looking up at him. The fourth quarter came, and the Raiders were still down by two touchdowns. Robert and his parents sat anxiously, hoping for Will to get a chance. The time came, and the coach, seeming desperate, put Will in the game. For the next couple of plays, the Raiders threw the ball, incomplete pass after incomplete pass. Finally, they drew up a play for Will. He got a handoff coming through the middle. Will broke out of the pack, sprinting up the sideline. The crowd roared louder than they had all night. The freshman running back sprinted up the sideline with impressive speed, broke a tackle, and scored the first touchdown of the night for the home team! Robert’s feeling of jealousy and envy towards his brother shifted. He felt something inside of him. It was pride. He couldn’t have been more proud of his younger brother. He stood up and clapped with the crowd, remembering all the good times he used to have with Will. Robert realized that he had lost touch with his family. He had been so caught up being a teenager, that all he cared about was himself and his high school buddies. The Raiders’ defense stopped the opposing team, and the home team got the ball back on offense. Anxiously waiting for Will to get the ball, Robert sat, tapping his feet at an alarming rate. The Raiders needed a touchdown. With three minutes left in the game, Will took a handoff, the same play as his first touchdown. Only this time, a huge 250 pound linebacker met him head on and nailed him. The crowd froze, but Will popped up off the ground, seeming to be alright. The following play, Will took another handoff, in the other direction this time. He faked out the big linebacker and headed up field. Giving a pursuing defender a vicious stiff arm to the helmet, he broke out for another touchdown. The crowd was going bananas! It was pandemonium. Robert couldn’t control himself; he stood up and began yelling, “THAT’S MY LITTLE BROTHER, THAT’S MY LITTLE BROTHER!” not caring who looked at him or who was judging him.
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Robert heard a voice come from down below on the bleachers, “Hey, come on down here, man! Cheer with us!” said one of the students cheering in the middle of the student section. Robert looked over at his parents, they exchanged a smile, and Robert galloped down the metal bleachers towards the pack of students. Robert had forgotten all about his agreement with his dad and was having an amazing time. Robert knew that his new home in Flint would never be the same as his original home, but after that night, Robert’s mind was opened, and he looked at it as a new beginning. He had a fresh start and a brand new opportunity to make lasting memories.
Meryl & Charlie, Beth Sapitowicz ’17
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Pinnacle 2015 School Stress It’s a difficult time when it gets like this, uh huh It’s hard to do work when it gets like this, uh huh Having no homework is my only wish, uh huh ’cause it’s hard to do work when they load us like this, uh huh Homework is reckless So stop giving it out Nothing left to do, My whole life is full of school
Untitled, Lauren Brulinski ’15
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It’s a horrible time when it gets like this It’s hard to have a life when it gets like this At the end of my life what do I get out this What does school offer you with all of this? No time for family No time for my sleep Nothing left to do All I live is school ~ Malik Tyne ’15
Persephone Opus 01, Nicole Ishak ’15
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Pinnacle 2015 Redemption
Cameron Emely ’17 O say can you see by the dawn’s early light, The man loaded his gun, crouched down behind a half-blown up wall, and held it close to his chest. He mumbled his two daughter’s names, Sara and Lisa, and spun around as he arose. He staggered the gun on top of the wall, targeted the nearest hostile, and opened fire. He missed, multiple times and then ducked his head down below the wall’s horizon once again. What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming, He looked up at the night, and the moon was half-faded. He looked east, and saw a gleaming sunrise, the sun barely peeking over the ground, as if it was scared for itself, but curious at what was going on. That made the sun and the man have one thing in common. He stuttered, “God help me,” before he listened for more gun shots. He heard none. His comrades were still out there, and he needed to find them. Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight, He tucked and rolled to the left of the wall and swiftly aimed in front of him. He had found no hostiles. He slowly stood completely up, and then crouched slightly as he heard something, then moved forward. The steadiness of his gait left a trail of footprints in the desert sand, and they continued marking a path towards the center of the dilapidated village.
Frozen Moment, Yena Kim ’17
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O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming, The man heard an explosion and fell flat on his stomach, ducking down, attempting to avoid any possible shrapnel that would fly through the air. He looked to his left, then to his righ, and saw smoke coming from about fifty meters to his diagonal right. He did not know who fired the bomb, but he saw a smoke trail leading a good hundred meters or so to his left. And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air, He pushed himself up, and sprinted for the area in which the bomb struck, ducking through houses and windows and sliding through narrow Kinoaha, Nicole Ishak ’15 alleys. He saw a hostile. He took the shot. The hostile fell, backwards onto the ground, uttering some religious cry of victory as he slumped. Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there; The man heard screaming, shouts for help and assistance. He recognized them as American voices. He continued running in the same direction, and eventually, he hurled himself through another window and found his team, pinned down by gunfire and very glad to see him. “About time, man! Get in the fight!” one said. O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave, A wave of hostiles came out of nowhere. They opened fire. The American men attempted to fight them off; some even killed a few, but they all died. Every single one. Except the man. O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave, The man was gripped by the hair, and his head was brought upwards. The man had tears pouring from his eyes, asking for mercy. The hostiles gave him none. One of them raised his gun and stuck the barrel towards his forehead and took the shot.
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Pinnacle 2015 Fly Away
Angela Miceli ’17 I slipped away from the world I once knew. My glassy eyes, shattering like ice cracking under the weight of the universe, began to see the world for the first time. I was limitless. The chains of reality broke away, and I flew higher than I could have ever imagined. There was no beginning or end. I soared away from reality; a thousand pulses of air danced through my hair, cascading down my shoulders like a waterfall. A sound like rushing rapids filled my ears. Hundreds of birds flew beside me, wings flapping like the wild beating of my heart. My wings spread across the sky, which melted away into the sherbet color of the sunset. The last rays of luminescent light dripped off of my wings like drops of rain rolling down a window pane. Suddenly, there was a splash of water. All around me were the sapphire waves, the push Let Your Light Shine, and pull of the tides. I dove and swam towards the bottom. The deeper I swam, Taiylor Kriss ’17 the more I began to see millions of diamonds glistening on the seafloor. There was no sound. Just an endless sensation of tranquility. It was as if I lived and breathed the ocean. As I finally reached the bottom, I could see it clearly. The heavenly body of stars surrounded me. Gravity was vanquished. I glided through the constellations. Energy can never be created nor destroyed, and it was in that moment in which I was renewed. I was pure light, an inferno. My flames danced across the dark abyss of night. Through the infinite space, I twirled to the choir of a millions songs. I could feel my heartbeat pulsing through my veins like liquid fire. My entire body pounding like a drum. Before my eyes I saw flashes of light, a firework display of a million stars enveloping me into a super nova of... And then, I woke. I saw the light pouring in through my window, seeping down onto the sheets of my bed like honey poured from a jar. While the veil of my dreams was lifted and reality beckoned me back into the world around me, I knew I would return that night to my dreams and fly away again.
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Conor O’Brien ’16 Jessica flies over the Amazon Rainforest in an old, rickety by-plane to reach a wildlife research facility. The pilot is an old man who is wearing a worn pilot hat and talks to himself too much. Jessica doesn’t talk or say anything to the pilot because she thinks he is crazy. The plane is bouncy and the seats are uncomfortable; Jessica is dying to get off. Jessica asks the pilot which part of the world they are flying around. The pilot looks at her and tells her that they are right over the Amazon. Jessica is happy because she knows they aren’t far from the research facility now. The plane is rattling and bouncing much now, and it’s very annoying for Jessica to be thrown to and fro like a rag doll. The pilot has been quiet the past couple minutes, and the plane has been rumbling around for a while now. Jessica is trying to make herself comfortable in the swaying plane, but she can’t because the seats are hard, plastic ones. Jessica decides to move towards the back of the plane and tries to find somewhere more comfortable to sit. Jessica gets up out of her seat and right when she does, the plane makes a sudden and hard left turn, and Jessica is flung to the side of the plane. She hits the side wall of the plane hard, and she thinks she has possibly cracked a rib. The plane has seemed to be moving much faster, and the pilot hasn’t been talking much. Jessica crawls towards the cockpit to check on the pilot. Once she gets there she sees that the pilot is face down on the steering column.
Blue Angels, Jamie Teramani ’15
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Pinnacle 2015
Words From The Soul Typewriters, what a novel idea Now so retro and unique, Old and antique Yet they are still An easier window to the soul than a blank computer screen For there is a certain satisfaction to pounding on the ancient keys and pouring out your heart and soul as you listen to the hum and click of the words becoming permanent You start to feel more alive ~ Rachel Amrhein ’15 Whatever Floats Your Boat,
Taylor Brewer ’17
Gears,
Logan Elliott ’17
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Painful Rain It falls, it splashes, On ground, into dirt. My attention catches, It brings back hurt. Like Atlas the sky rests on my shoulders, Brings me to my knees as it gets heavy, As I struggle it gets colder, As the day goes on I get weary. Rapid tapping down the gutter, A hit to the chest every drop, It beats upon the shutter, The pain never stops. Each one a sharpened arrow, Untitled, Chul Park ’16 They fall and pierce the ground. Today is a peaceful surrender to sadness and sorrow, Hopefully tomorrow isn’t drowned. ~ Garrett Hefner ’17
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Medusoza , Kelley Reilley ’16
Pinnacle 2015
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Kitty Love,
Old Time Pictures
never seem to look good. Although everyone dresses nicely in them, The family’s faces look white as a ghost. It must be the black and white film effect. Where the camera makes everyone’s face white. But the picture becomes a thousand memories. All families wanted a group picture, So they could cherish the memories.
Although the pictures look grim-like, A family portrait was a nice thing to own. Not everyone could afford a picture, So families that had one cherished it.
~ Emmy Dallam ’15
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Daphne Karas ’17
Pinnacle 2015
Flower, Brooke Hare ’17
Bel Air, David Carrier ’16 Landing, Jamie Teramani ’15
Leafy Daze, Ava McDermott ’17
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Leaves Leaving,
Giana Liberatore ’17
The Changing The green trees, the neat grass, the bright fruit, the little animals, all gone. Leaves are changing in a different way. People cannot guess what color they will be. When the metamorphosis is over, they will reflect different warm shades. The warmth of those shades is a contradiction of what is about to come. Oh, their beauty is second to none. During the full immersion in nature, every step taken is not silent anymore. Then the noise is equalized by the chilly breeze that softly touches the skin. The more the time passes, the more the breeze becomes strong. Finally trees utter their last gasp. And when the time comes they sleep for months at last. ~ Mateus Macceri ’15
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Trees, Henry Peng ’16
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Riddler What better way to prove a point Than with a riddle that won't disappoint. I'll make the risk high and the riddle hard For Batman won't be anyone's guard.
Something Great,
Jesseca Dunnett ’17
The bomb will go off and the cash will be mine With only Batman to stop me, it’s just a matter of time. You think he can protect you; I am as bad as the flu. This town isn't safe - this town of Gotham With your finger on the trigger it'll blow off your thumb. ~ Jacob Rosaschi ’15
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A Night Never Forgotten there once was a fire ablaze, smoke filling the air with haze. breathing and blowing, never slow-going the fire roared warm and cozy. in my arms a girl, and in this girl a heart. with the heat of the hearth lay the deeds of the heart, with the means of love in the work of art. and art she was, lying in my arms the words hung in the air, till death do us part.
Acer Palmatum,
Erin McCaughey ’17
~ David Carrier ’16
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Recreation of Monet’s “Sunset in Venice,”
Nicole Iorio ’15
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Troll Bridge, Rachel Amrhein ’15
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Autumn Bliss, Sara Dieter ’17
River Dream It was a wonderful dream, floating down a stream, not a care in the world. The water around me swirled, its soft fingers caressing my cheek. A cold touch, anything but meek. A subtle buzz came from the distance, getting louder and telling of its persistence. My eyes snapped open. A pale arm snaked out of the warm covers to silence the alarm, sunshine broke through and welcomed me with its usual charm. ~ Taylor Sommer ’16
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Pinnacle 2015
Driftwood Reminds Me of Winter Buildings fall under the weight of the cold. Beach houses were never made for the snow. Angry, gray waves rush at the fading shore, blank skies look wistfully for the return of boardwalks worn gray by the scorching sun. But now snow drifts are higher than sand drifts. Tell me when the houses fall. I will too. I’ll crumble gracefully in the winter. Be pulled out to sea by riptides or fate. Swallowed completely by the foaming surf. Hurricanes won’t know how to race with me, and summer won’t find me when it returns. Pull shells off your shelf and listen to them, because the shore has not forgotten you. Through the changing tides it will remember, you leave in winter but always return. Tell me what it’s like to leave in winter. To not have to look after the cold shore. Sun Diego, Kathryn Benisch ’15
~ Erin Paradiso ’16
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Rebirth Depending on the Rain What if puddles of rain were like portals? What if they, laid by freshly fallen rain, Would whisk me away to far off places Whenever I jumped into their shallow depths And they scattered thousands of mirror glass Shards of my own reflection about me? They would fall around me and down I'd sink Into the puddle and far out of sight. I would climb out of a puddle somewhere Far far away, a place I've never been, Until it was time for me to return home. And then, only by puddles I'd travel Letting their still reflection like mirrors Show me wherever I needed to go, Until they dried up and rain no longer fell And I stuck in that place till a storm passed by. Tree, Adriana Guidi ’17
~ Victoria Caldwell ’16
Glimmer, Vanillae Tong ’16
43
Pinnacle 2015
Park Here,
Madison Taylor ’15
Saltwater,
Hailey Ishak ’17
44
Rebirth
Stripes and Sunshine, Hailey Ishak ’17
45
Pinnacle 2015 New Heights
Danielle Connolly ’17 The wind formed a small, cool breeze, the tiny gusts of air were overwhelming for those who noticed it. It was the kind of night that would be painted and hung up in galleries, the kind that people would reminisce about decades later. Multiple stars shone brightly in the dark night sky, which was light enough to seem more of a dark blue hue than a black one. The modest home stood in the middle of this beauty, a mere observer of this God-made night. The house was red-brick, and it had a large, dingy porch. The grass, wet with dew, almost sparkled on the lawn. This was a perfect night for what had to be done. The blue-grey car was one of the two vehicles sitting in the driveway, glistening in the evening light. All of a sudden, it honked loudly. Startled, Warren woke up and jumped from his bed, landing face-first in the carpet. He got up and rubbed his head. “NOW what?” he grumbled. He had been in the middle of a great dream, not that he remembered what it was anymore. He glanced at the clock, which read 4:32 A.M. Realizing that he slept in his clothes, he put on his shoes and cautiously snuck downstairs, careful not to wake anyone in the house. Once he got to the front door, he sprinted to the car, trying to figure out what had happened. The huge vehicle stood still and silent, looking just as it did when he drove it a few days prior. He was able, however, to jump out of the way when it came rolling straight at him. Warren knew that he needed to stop the now fast-moving car. He was automatically sucked into the open trunk, which was somehow spacious enough for him to sit in. Managing to climb over the trunk and into the back seat, he peered into the crack between the front and the back seat. There was no one controlling the car, which was turning effortlessly! It was not difficult for Warren to hoist himself over to the driver’s seat. However, his attempts at slowing down the car only made it speed up! “So it’s opposite day, huh?” Warren muttered to himself. He pressed the accelerator in hopes of slowing down, but it only caused him to move twice as fast! Similar attempts at moving the steering wheel were not only difficult but had no effect on the machine. Pounding the horn in frustration caused the car to float in mid-air, going upward and upward until it stopped at a height and shot forward. Warren attempted to calm himself down but he could not. Streets and cities went by at a dizzying speed, countries and continents a blur as he panicked. After what seemed to be hours, the car gently lowered itself down to the ground, moving now at a much slower pace. Dizzy and tired, Warren blinked and took a look outside the window. The city was huge, full of tall and strange buildings that he had never seen before. The street lamps illuminated everything so much that it barely seemed like night. Billboards showcased celebrity-laden advertisements for various products. The cars on the highway, some on the older side and others brand-new, moved at the same speed, almost as if they were on a track at an amusement park. “Hey!” a police officer yelled. “You can’t be here! Go home!”
46
Rebirth
Warren shrunk down from the window a bit, but he was able to see that the officer was actually talking to a stray dog that wandered onto the road. He decided that it was a good idea to stay in the car. At once, all of the vehicles on the road slowly came to a stop. Every car lifted itself up into the air and moved forward. Most of these cars had nobody inside of them. Warren soon saw why. As each car got to a certain point, it disappeared altogether. Warren gulped and tried to open the car door frantically. “It’s locked!” he said to himself. Using quick thinking, he repeatedly smashed the car manual into the window, which eventually broke. The shards of glass tumbled down onto the ground far below. Silently praying that he would stay intact, Warren managed to climb out of the window and hang onto its edge. Looking down over the city, which almost made him sick, he timed when the cars below him lurched forward. When he had the timing down, he let his grip on the window falter. Immediately, he felt a rush of light and sound encircle and devour him. In the next instant, he found himself on the ground of a strange building. Sighing with relief, he found a control panel with a variety of buttons and switches. A green light lit up and set off a recurring tone. Right next to it was a button that read “REVERSE.” Warren pushed it with little hesitation, and all the noise around him, as well as the movements of the cars outside, which he saw through a small, dusty window, came to a complete standstill. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” a familiar voice cried out. “Bob? What are you doing here?” Warren asked his friend. “Listen, man, I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I was paid to steal all the cars of the world,” the man replied with a twinge of regret. “Why? Who hired you?” “I can’t say. I’m getting twenty grand for doing this.” “You know this isn’t right.” “Yeah, but it gets me money.” “This doesn’t make any sense! You have plenty of money!” “Listen,” the man shook his head. “You should probably go back home, man, and forget about all this. I wouldn’t want to have to get rid of you.” He reached into his pocket. “I wish I could go home,” Warren muttered with fear. Immediately he was back in his bedroom. Confused, Warren looked around. Everything was just as it had been before he left. He crept out of the room, went downstairs, and peered out of the window. Parked in the driveway were the family cars. He also glanced at the time, which was only 2:46 in the morning. Trudging wearily to his room, he noticed that he still had a full slice of birthday cake on his dresser, along with empty candy packets and half-drunk cans of soda. Well, he thought, that explains why none of that made any sense. I should lay off of the sweet stuff before bed.
47
Pinnacle 2015
Soaring High, Zach Miller ’17
48
“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”
~ George Bernard Shaw