CA Writes

CA WRITES Cary Academy Middle School 2014-2015

The Song of Our Hoofbeats Cate Pitterle You’ve probably heard of the saying “now or never”. Some people dismiss it like it’s a leaf on the wind, but it’s important. Sometimes, it’s the littlest things that take the most courage. I learned that one crisp autumn evening, as the dying sun illuminated an unlikely classroom- a riding arena.

“So, do you want to jump the brick wall today?” Phillip asked, pointing towards a large jump glaring with a redand-white brick pattern towards the middle of the dusty riding ring.

“Um, well, um-“, I stammered, feeling the cold bite into my exposed arms and face. I looked back at my horse, Domino. His brown-red spots shone in the dying sun and his eyes, rimmed in striking white, yielded no good answer. I’ll do anything, he seemed to say, as long as I get grass afterwards.

“It’s okay. We can jump the oxer, though,” Phillip added, looking quickly over at me to see if I was okay with this. I nodded nervously, my head giving a small bob that suggested I would much rather have jumped a seven-foot-high vertical. The light yellow and sky blue oxer was smaller than the brick wall but big enough to be extremely daunting. It consisted of two poles set next to each other to form something of a double-jump that the horse would take in one leap.

It’d be a longer jump than I was used to, and I couldn’t mess up over the jump unless I wanted to be draped over it like a piece of clothing out to dry.

I tugged gently on Domino’s reins, guiding him into the ring. His hooves beat in a hollow rhythm on the ground, though his eyes looked at me, and they seemed to convey a range of things, not all of which I could hear. I petted his cheek as we walked, feeling his coarse fur slide ever so slightly beneath my fingers. I moved my hand up to feel his bridle, the weathered but still soft leather, and up to his velvety ear. He snorted.

I felt the corners of my mouth curl up even though I wasn’t sure whether I wanted them to, and I moved the mounting block to where Domino was standing. I had managed to remember to adjust my stirrups before I got into the ring this time. The black plastic was covered in dirt, which scattered all over as I lifted it up.

Domino slyly slid over to the side as I brought the mounting block over to him. “Smart horse.”

Phillip laughed. “You might have some trouble. Here,” he said, and gripped the reins.

“Thanks,” I replied, and proceeded to move the mounting block to Domino. It crunched in the dirt as I set it down, and I stepped onto it. A hollow thud came just after my brown boot stepped onto it. I swung myself onto Domino, silently admiring the way my legs fit right onto his saddle, and how his saddle fit right onto him. The only things separating me from an animal with ancestors as wild as the wind was a strip of leather.

I forgot these thoughts, however, as I saw the glaring jump on the other side of the ring. Time flew, and I knew that for a fact. Especially when you were astride a giant, spotted, white-and-rust colored horse. Not to mention the fact that being astride that giant, spotted, white-and-rust colored horse was immensely fun. That was, until you had to jump an oxer for the first time.

“C’mon, boy, we can do this,” I whispered quietly into Domino’s ear. It swiveled back as I talked, seeming to listen.

I knew that I was mostly reassuring myself and that Domino had jumped oxers dozens of times.

I turned left as I reached the deep brown, wooden fence separating the ring from the world around it. I continued to walk around the ring, conveying things to Domino with my legs and arms rather than my voice. I was too nervous to speak, but I knew that if I didn’t jump that oxer now I probably would never get the courage to do so later.

Just a few seconds after I thought this, I heard rocks crunching together as my friend, Megan, walked with her tiny, brown-and-white pony, Dreamer, to the ring. His fur was super contrasting today, mostly because I wasn’t used to his white fur being so white and his brown patches being so brown. It looked like a beautiful patchwork quilt in the soft dusk light.

“Hey, Megan, we’re jumping the oxer today. Are you up for it?” Phillip asked her. She nodded, but she also seemed nervous. Her mouth twitched down into a frown and her eyes flashed with worry, but it was gone after a second.

As usual, Dreamer’s ears were laid back flat on his head and his tail lashed out, a tiger about to strike. He pranced in place, his hooves kicking up dust. Phillip quickly strode over to him and held the reins, and Megan got on, landing as light as a butterfly as to not make Dreamer even angrier than he already was. The prancing was probably just for show, and possibly intimidation, but Dreamer couldn’t get away with going back to the warm, hay-filled barn this time.

“Hey,” Phillip said to him, while making a futile attempt to scratch Dreamer’s ear or neck and calm him down.

“Don’t be nasty. We’re gonna have some fun today.”

Once we were both walking our horses on the rail, Phillip told us to stand up in our stirrups. I couldn’t tell whether we looked like sticks or not, standing with our legs pressed against our horse’s sides like an iron to a board, but we both tried to stand up like a tree. It was a lot harder than it looked, and required many, many squats per week to do properly.

“All right, you can sit down and trot,” Phillip shouted over the roar of the wind.

We did so, and I rested on the seat for a second before squeezing Domino’s flanks. He picked up the trot almost immediately, his legs striking out in a perfect rhythm. He was more sensitive than a feather in the breeze today. I made sure to stand up and sit down with Domino’s motions, standing when his right leg struck out and sitting when it went back. I heard the steady beat of his hooves on the ground and felt the ritual feeling of my posting. Domino’s ears turned forward, straining as if they were saying, “’cause I’m happy.”

I slowed Domino down a little when I realized that I was getting closer to Megan. Dreamer was going as fast as his little legs could take him, and Megan was posting with grace, but they were still slower than Domino and I. “Cate, pick up the trot more! Megan, make him extend his stride a bit! Good! We aren’t on a pleasant Sunday stroll. Ride those horses!”

I pushed Domino slightly faster, pulling back as his legs started to strike out even further into a canter rhythm. If there ever was a thin line between two things, it would be the line between Domino’s gaits. It was as thin as the fine hairs on his pelt.

After what seemed like mere seconds but what was really a few minutes, Phillip called something to us. The wind was blowing away from me and towards him, so I cast him a confused look.

“Walk, Cate! Gosh, this wind is strong,” he added. I slowed to a walk and patted Domino on the shoulder, which made his ears perk up and swivel more forward than they already were, if that was even possible. Domino could really be the essence of happiness sometimes.

I heard Phillip call something to Megan, who was on the other side of the ring, then, out of the corner of my eye, saw him turn to me. I looked over and he called, “Make sure to use the ring, go out and cut in to get the right lead.

Remember, the inside leg should strike out farther than the one next to the outside of the ring. And, canter!”

I stayed slightly off the rail. I cut in, turned back onto the rail, and put my leg just behind Domino’s girth. His legs struck out like a plane ready for takeoff, and I bounced slightly in the seat with every stride. My arms extended with the lunging of Domino’s neck, and after a sneak peek at Domino’s inside leg I saw that it struck out farther than his left one. I was on the right lead.

I looked up, past Domino’s bicolored ears, and fixated my gaze on the pine forest in front of the ring. The green needles blended together into one splotch of color, surrounded by the graying sky, which was streaked through with rays of bright orange sunlight.

As I rounded the corner, I allowed my head to turn ever so slightly back to the ring, and I once again took in the fence. As I rounded the second corner the barn appeared at the edges of my vision, its bright white and maroon coloring standing out against the otherwise-grassy landscape. Horses grazed peacefully in the pastures beyond, their tails swishing gently and their ears flicking off a random fly here and there every bite. But I couldn’t watch them now, because I had to ride.

After all, like Phillip had said, this wasn’t a quiet, pleasant stroll down a lane in an old buggy. I was jumping an oxer today. It really was the perfect now or never situation, and out of the two options, I knew at this point that I was choosing now.

My eyes travelled down to Domino’s mane for a second, which was whipping in the breeze Domino’s running had created. Its colors flashed in my eyes, the stark brown and cream mingling together in a wild dance.

My hands curled around a lock of his mane, and it almost felt like thin rope under my fingers: slightly tangled and rough but sturdy and strong.

“Okay, you two, walk and pat ‘em, then I’ll give you your course,” Phillip ordered, his voice reaching my ears over the wind. All at once, I stopped pumping my arms, sat down, and told Domino to whoa. I stopped bouncing, my core untightened like a coiled spring let go, and my hands dropped down a little bit so that they hovered just over each side of Domino’s neck.

Once we had lost enough speed to be at a considerable walk, I heartily rubbed Domino’s neck, massaging his shoulder with my hand. “Good boy,” I told him, grinning all the while. “That was a great canter.”

He turned his head so that he could just see me out of the corner of his large, brown eye. Domino had the kind of eyes that could see into your soul- they were as brown as dark chocolate and rimmed in a white that was as startling as a group of birds swarming out of a tree in right in front of you. His eyes were met by a long muzzle tipped in stormy gray, flaring nostrils. His ears were still perked. “Nothing makes you sad, huh, boy?” I asked him, and from what I guessed his reply seemed to be somewhat like the answer to my first question for him: Well, I get grass afterwards, don’t I? I laughed, stretching forward past his long neck to palm his beautiful, velvety ear. It was as soft as spring moss and as warm as a bird’s fluffy down. It was gorgeous to the touch, and I relished it, feeling everything that a horse would feel, everything that a horse was, right there, in that moment.

“Let’s go jump that oxer,” I agreed. “Let’s do it.”

I let go of his ear and brought up my reins, and turned him into the center of the ring. I was scared- I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But I felt better. I knew that I could do it.

Phillip’s voice brought me back. “Okay, so your first course is this: the red-and-green outside line, 5 strides in between jumps for you, Cate, and Megan, Dreamer will probably get 5, too, but if you get six that’s fine. Round that corner and stay on the rail, simple change if you get on the wrong lead after the jump. Turn in and stay on a straight line, and go over that oxer right there.” At this, he pointed towards the yellow-and-blue oxer. I felt my stomach churn, but the oxer didn’t seem quite as glaring as it was before.

“If you get on the wrong lead, simple change at the rail, and trot your circle down,” he added. “Cate, you’re first.

Let’s see what you can do.”

I felt myself gulp slightly, and all the nervousness returned. But there was something else there too. It was steely determination, and I knew that whatever happened, I had to get over that jump.

I turned onto the rail and urged Domino forward using a language only we could make sense of. He trotted again, his legs beating out a steady rhythm, the beat of the song yet to come, and the beginning of a ride.

My fingers knotted in Domino’s mane, and I breathed in, smelling the soft, musty odor of the barn as I sat down in the seat. The rail had come up fast, and now it was time to canter. I squeezed with my legs, bending his head to the inside with my reins, and Domino picked up his canter. I felt the heat rising from his flanks, heard the dust shifting under his feet as his hooves squarely beat upon it. I lifted myself up into the half seat just as the first line of jumps approached. Domino strained forward, but I held him back. He knew what was coming.

One, two, up! I counted, and we were in the air for less time than a lightning strike. His hooves beat down again he took off. His hoof beats pounded in my ears, my head clamoring with the sound of my blood roaring like a lion and Domino’s strides like a cheetah. I took a sharp intake of breath and leaned slightly forward as Domino lifted into the air for a second time, and I caught the cool, crisp scent of fall.

Domino’s legs worked beneath me, and I worked too, staying in a hover just above the saddle and watching the blue-and-yellow oxer approach. I turned just a second early and struggled to get on a straight line. I had to make it!

Domino pounded towards the very center of the jump. His hooves beat in a blaring roar, creating a song worthy of the best rock artists.

Then there was silence. Nothing seemed to move or make a sound except me. I couldn’t hear the birds chirruping their little ditties. I couldn’t hear the breathing of Dreamer and Megan. I couldn’t hear Phillip as he stood beside me, and though I couldn’t see him I knew that if I looked over he would seem frozen in time. The trees didn’t sway with the wind, and the bird flying over them seemed to have stopped flapping. And most importantly, I couldn’t hear the constant pounding of Domino’s hooves.

We were at a break in the song- the part where we flew. And just for a brief second, we did.

We were in the air, going over the jump, and Domino curled up to me as I leaned forward on his warm neck. He curved in a graceful arc, one that no architect could master with a simple hammer and nail. The arc that Domino curved could only be created by a saddle, a rider, a horse, and a jump. You don’t need the reins over an oxer. That’s because you’re free.

Suddenly a boom sounded in my ears. Everything started to move. Megan and Dreamer breathed, Phillip turned his head to watch me, the bird once again started to soar, the trees shook and the wind whistled.

And, most importantly, Domino and I had struck up our song.

This beat was quieter, not roaring and pounding in my ears, but a soft beat, as though Domino was a bee who landed on a flower, barely disturbing a single petal. I grinned, and the wind bit into me, surrounding me as it dived, dipped, and swerved. It was like I had just gone on a very long journey, and it was welcoming me home.

I barely heard Phillip as he shouted over the wind, telling me good job. He had known how nervous I had been, but he had wanted me to do it. He had known that I could.

I pulled slightly on the reins, resting in the saddle and moving up and down, up and down, to the rhythm of the beat of our song. A swallow flew above the barn, chirping a melody to our music. I had done it. I had jumped the oxer, the one that had seemed so glaring. I looked back at it as I slowed to a walk. It wasn’t so glaring anymore- it was covered with our dust, the stuff that we had defeated it with. But this hadn’t been a battle, it had been a long journey. Every moment had led to this.

Now, I thought, looking at the brick wall, every moment will lead to that.

A Beginning – An END Shannon Jenkins It was a time when many were scared but fear is deadly. Persephone was at the height of power.

Persephone was a terrible … thing. She was not a person; all she cared was that she got what she wanted – power.

Power (for an obvious reason) is a very powerful thing. Power is dangerous, but at times it is the safest thing known.

Persephone was using power to be feared. She fed on chaos, sadness, and anger. If she found that someone did not follow her or listen to her with fear, she got rid of them. However, because she relied on others to remain powerful, she too had great fears.

While Persephone was working frantically to get power, two peoples gathered their courage to love. Lisa and Zack Stone were two early 30’s people who were no strangers to chaos. Lisa Stone grew up in a house of 8.

Every one of the 6 kids had a different opinion on everything. Zack Stone was an only child but his parents always fought. Even though their past was chaotic their love for each other was truly powerful.

Lisa and Zack were so happy for now they had a little baby girl to love and nurture. They vowed to one another that they would protect Merielle Stone from all the pain and chaos that lay outside the door of their 2 story, 2,000 square yard city house.

Little did they know, but soon they would have to test how strong their vow was.

It started out as a night like any other. Zack was downstairs reading The Daily Magic, a magical newspaper as Lisa was upstairs getting the 23 month old, Merielle ready for bed.

“Come on my sweet, it’s time to go to bed;” Lisa encouraged Merielle who wanted to continue to play.

To this, Merielle responded with a series of gurgles. She ended with an all-knowing-yet-confused smile, earning her a great kiss from her mother.

Suddenly there were several loud bangs as Zack thundered up the stairs in a split second. He was hardly able to coarsely whisper, “Take her. I’ll hold off Persephone.”

“She’s here?” Lisa questioned hoping desperately that the answer would be “no”.

“I saw her through The Vision and you know that never fails,” Zack answered. “We only have a few minutes, so hurry. We’ll meet at Zachary’s place.” With that the family separated prepared to face the horror that awaited for them.

Lisa was crying as she ran to Merielle’s room. She pulled out her sleek wand. Her wand contained a crystal found in an abandoned mine just like Zach’s.

As she closed and locked the door she faced Merielle, “I need you to remember that Mommy and Daddy love you. Always remember that we are here for you. Merielle, don’t ever let chaos become the base of your energy. Her loving speech ended for Lisa gasped as she felt a searing pain in her chest. She looked up with tears dripping from her eyes and whispered, to no one in particular, “Zach’s been murdered.”

Hearing a small click, Lisa spun around to see a flash of fiery orange light and the door slowly creaking open. A woman (probably 18) walked in. The mystical and curious being wore black robes tied together with a sash the same color of the flash before she walked in. Her brown hair fell roughly over her shoulders. Her eyes (like her hair, looked strangely like Merielle’s) were blue, but had red flakes in them.

She smiled but Merielle felt as though he smile turned the room cold instead of warm like how her mom and dad smiled. “Well this is a nice little room isn’t it. I had to take a whole tour of the house in order to find you and her” she sneered, and then she began to pace the room. “As I’m sure you remember, I do not like to wait. My goal is to become a more patient person.”

“Why are you here? Why did you kill Zack?” Lisa demanded. “He did so much for you, he cared for you, and how do you repay him – you kill him. As I’m sure you remember, I despise people who hurt good and innocent people.”

“Putting up a fight are you?” Persephone questioned in a sarcastically sympathetic tone. “Tut, tut, I’m just here to remove all obstacles that could come back while I go on a ‘surge of power’ as I believe The Daily Magic is calling it.”

“I won’t let you hurt your sister. “ “Do not mention it!” Persephone boomed.

Lisa moved to shield Merielle.

“Get out of my way!”

Lisa did not move an inch. She pointed her wand at Persephone and yelled, “Upgrado!” It appeared nothing happened.

“That’s it?” Persephone and raised her eyebrows as though she found this entertaining. “Well here’s my response ... Quido killadity!”

Lisa screamed and dropped dead in front of Merielle.

Merielle stared at Persephone and cried silently. Merielle did not hear anything but if she did, she would hear Persephone trying to kill her too. Right then and there she said her first words, “Mommy and Daddy are OK.” Then without knowing why she walked over to Persephone and hugged her.

Persephone felt a huge pain a million times worse than what Lisa felt. Then for the first time since she was 8 years old she cried. She cried because she now knew that she had hurt her sister. Merielle looked up at her sister and said, “I forgive you. I love you sis. You hurt so many people trying to heal yourself. Come to me and we can heal each other.”

Upgrado showed Persephone that she made a mistake and that instead of running away from being wrong, she should embrace it. So with that she and Merielle taught people around them about the how to be their best selves.

Prejudice Mackenzie Newnam The moment stands still with no sound to interrupt No silent cries No pain in anyone's eyes But mine I told them I was innocent I told them I was a citizen That was my last line Now here I stand about to take my last breath Awaiting the silent and peaceful call of death I will never again see the sun shine I am proud to be black But I am not proud of the crack Between the races is such a big line The rope scrapes up against my throat Soon my feet will float My feet slip and all that holds my neck is the vine I am a silent victim of prejudice

A Young Child Experiencing his First Years at a New School

Osamah Atieh It was time for a new school year.

I was the new kid in school.

I didn’t know anyone.

I was all alone.

Of course I wanted to run away, but I knew that I would be seen as a coward.

I heard there was a lot of history at this school.

People were mean, unjust bullies who picked on the little kids.

I was a little kid, but I was ready to ignore and deal with them.

I was walking down the hall After my first class To see A big kid twice my size come to me He picked on me, but I kept my head up.

After a week of trying to ignore the fact was he was bullying me it happened.

He insulted my mother.

Quote on Quote he said "Your mom is an ugly, stupid, and horrible woman" That burst my bubble.

No one talks about my mom like that.

I jumped him. kicked him and punched him until he bled.

The teacher came and broke him from me.

She shouted at me and said to go to the principal's office.

I told them he started it but they didn’t listen.

Of course they defended him.

As the bully walked away he smiled and I knew that was his plan, to finally burst my bubble.

Prejudice Lyndon Wood When its dark and we see a colored man on the street, We walk by quickly, no eye contact, discreet.

Automatically we assume they are out to attack, Just because they are male and their skin is black.

We see someone who is Asian and automatically assume, They spend their days studying, sitting in their room.

They’re super smart but in sports they can’t win, Excuse me but have you heard of Jeremy Lin? A girl’s stomach is showing in her public attire, Which makes you believe boys are here one true desire.

Can a girl not just be happy in the clothes she’s in?

Instead her outfit must suddenly relate her to sin?

Athletics may not be his moxi, he may love to shop But your mean words may cause him to stop.

Just because he’s shopping and not playing sports all day, Doesn’t automatically mean that he is gay.

Don’t deny it, you’ve heard things like this before.

Must we all just hate, can we not just adore?

People shouldn’t be judged just on what you see, But unfortunately that’s how society wants it to be.

I Was Alone Maria Stevens

Everything was cold. The room was a striking white, mocking me with its brightness. I’m alone in the room that haunts me. The beeping every few seconds to remind me I’m alive, the chair in the corner was filled with nothing but the lingering air. Everything in here was white. My clothes, the walls, the chair. But there was one thing that stood out. The mirror across from my bed displayed something so different, so strange, out of place even. That was my hair. My hair was this deep red as my eyes are a bright blue. Those were the only things in this room that weren’t paper white. As suddenly as my image appeared, it left. I don’t remember moving but the image walked out of the room. And I watched it go, too stunned to react to it.

As I watched, a voice rang out. Words I couldn’t understand, but in my head I knew what to do. I stood up, the ground piercing my feet with the tiles like ice. The clear door that I hadn’t noticed, opened. I walked out, instantly hit with warm air that flowed through the hallway. Lights flickered waiting to go out. So I ran. I ran like I was a track star, like there was nothing stopping me. Unfortunately, there was. I hit a wall in front of me and whipped back. But I didn’t feel any pain. In fact I only felt cold. Looking back at the wall, I could see it was moving, like a wave. It was ice, moving ice. It moved in such a way it was inhumane and incredible.

The more I looked around, the more astounding it got. Colors were floating on the walls, creating pictures and paintings. There was a faint smell of wonderful baked goods I could only dream of. The sweet aroma danced through the hallway, begging me to find where it came from. The colors of the walls changed instantly. Now a dark grey, the tiles were black, the aroma was gone, the ice stopped. It was like the place was shut down. Taking off again, I sprinted through the hallways searching for an open door. There were none in sight and the building went on and on, never ending. It was like a maze, a labyrinth perhaps. As I went on the colors darkened, trapping me in the never ending building. Soon the area around me was pitch black. There were no sounds, no light, and no sign of anyone around. It was a scary feeling.

There was nothing to be found around here. Well, nothing but the cold air and dead atmosphere. I keep walking however. I need to find an exit. And I need to find one fast. I started to jog and a window appeared. It showed the world around me. Completely dead. There was nothing. Dust drifted around, there was a murky feeling everywhere. This is my new home. And I absolutely despised it. I couldn’t stand the empty feeling that floated through the air. I’m starting to think that I’m going to die. I feel so disconnected from the world. It starts getting colder and colder. Darker and colder, the room was dying. The world around was already gone.

I was alone.

The Deer and the Wolves Krishan Guzzo Society is like a pack of wolves.

Wolves that ravage, tear, demean those who are different I feel like a helpless dear Victim of the wolves that are society.

Why can’t they accept me for who I am?

Why must I be bullied because of varied beliefs?

I believe in this, They believe in that.

We are still the same at heart.

Is it really so hard For we are all humans alike To coexist, and live our lives?

No! It is not hard, I say It’s time to take a stand, time to draw the line I will stand up for my rights I will show them I can People like me need to be heard We need to fit in My light needs to shine through We are no less than them.

It’s time for the deer To outrun the wolves.

Moral Courage Cole Henry Why did I do it?

Why didn't you?

You were scared?

So was I. But that's no excuse.

The right thing should always be done and the right thing CAN always be done, that is, if you think the way I do.

Did my choice put me in danger?

Yes. It did.

Did yours?

Maybe it didn't.

But who did it help?

No one but you...

That's good...for you.

What if you could have helped many people?

It may not have been safe for you.

People might have criticized you.

They might have thought you were wrong.

But you know, once one person steps up and does the right thing, It's not too hard for others to do the same. and why aren't you that person?

Well, ask yourself this, Why did I do it? and why didn't you?

Religion Lily Levin Religion dissected by countless scholars determining the timeless definition of beliefs serenaded by thousands of followersbut a strict meaning is its own mortician Religion flowing from the souls as a fast-paced melody settling in the brains with sheer clemency

Religion a concept so beautifully fierce that not only veins, but beating hearts it could pierce Religion committing evil against those who are different poisoning them with a shrieking cry of blood-laden ecstasy feet pounding the skull of an infant evolving into a sinister being to hate, to annihilate, to limit--No. Religion is in itself a scope of freedom, although several words and phrases outdated from the antiquated Garden of Eden.

Religion however is the excuse behind the prejudiced acts of true cowards who hide nakedly behind its seams ignoring the simple and unwavering facts

No matter what religion or if none is practiced every creature inhabits a small planet floating unnoticed in the universe's atlas nothing but specks as enduring as granite.

Bonded by atoms from generations that had peacefully or violently perished, we all carry hopes and dreams and goals and so each other's company we must cherish.

Religion is a blinding dove meant for not hate not murder but for connections pieced by love.

Leo’s Death Zoe Moore Background information: Leo and Kyra are the main characters. Kyra is twelve and Leo is thirteen, and they are in seventh and eighth grade. Kyra has a lot of friends who are dragons (Shimmer, Velox, Lancae, Mentoris, Bluemoon) and human friends too (Mira, Zain, Leo, Marge). Kyra is Bonded to Shimmer, which sort of means that their minds are connected, and also gives Shimmer a human avatar and the ability to give Kyra dragon wings, and Marge and Bluemoon are Bonded, although their bond is weaker than Kyra and Shimmer’s, so the most Marge can get from Bluemoon is dragon scales for protection in battle. But Leo’s a Dragon Hunter, which means that her instincts make it hard for her to be in the presence of a dragon or a Bonded without killing them, so she has to fight herself just to not kill her friends. She actually did kill Shimmer’s girlfriend, Actay, in a training fight in the second book, before her sword chose her and she knew that she was a Hunter. Leo’s 5 year old sister Rey died last year. She was killed by Rageblaze, the main dragon villain who basically wants to kill all of humanity because Dragon Hunters murdered his family. Rey was everything to Leo, and everything kind in her died when Rey did.

Not everything good, but she’s hardened to the point that she is never happy, never laughs or smiles anymore.

She’s extremely brave, her life sucks a lot, and she has an amazing potential for evil with everything she lost, almost goes evil at a couple different points earlier in the story, but fights her pain and her instinct to keep helping Kyra. There are two main dragon types, Shifters and Elementals. The Shifters can transform into any being and have other special magic skills individual to each dragon, and Elementals have different breath weapons. Velox is a friend of Shimmer’s, and he has super speed as his Shifter skill. Leo’s sword is a Hunter’s sword, which is made of dragon scale. Leo’s sword is pure black and poisoned. Dragon scales on dragon swords are the only thing that can cut dragons, because dragon scale is really hard. This is a big battle between Rageblaze and his ‘friends’ and Kyra and her friends, Leo and Velox are the best fighters, so they take on Rageblaze.

LEO Leo and Velox whipped through the air, rolling and turning, flipping and spiraling, always narrowly avoiding Rageblaze’s fire, claws, teeth, or tail, always taking full advantage of Velox’s Shifter skill, speed. It wasn’t as strong as normal, because Velox hadn’t slept for about a week, and had been flying continually, he couldn’t even go a mile in ten seconds. Leo was probably the only human in either world who could stay on Velox when he was moving without getting dizzy, and still be able to concentrate on her sword. It was even more impressive considering that she had to concentrate to not use the sword in her hand to kill Velox.

They had speed and maneuvering skills, but Rageblaze was huge, and had much better natural weapons, and they had spent most of the battle so far flipping out of the way before he sliced them in half or burned them to ashes. That was why they were still alive, but they needed to do more. They needed to kill him, to go on the offensive instead of avoiding him all the time. And more than that, Leo needed to kill him. She was getting the chance to avenge Rey, and she wasn’t going to let it pass her by.

Rageblaze shot a huge burst of flame at them, and Velox tucked his wings in and dropped, rolling out of the way in midair so that in a split second he was back above Rageblaze, golden wings outstretched, nearly two hundred feet above the rocky cave floor. As Rageblaze turned back to attack again, Leo realized that Velox, small as he was for a dragon, was too big to be able to get in close enough to Rageblaze. If he got close enough for her to kill Rageblaze, he would be too close and would get killed. One of them wasn’t going to survive if they were to win this battle. And Leo knew who she wanted it to be. She knew, but she did not accept it. She ran her

fingers along her scar, from her right temple down to her neck, just under the curve of her jawbone. The scar that she got the last time she fought Rageblaze, the scar she got trying to avenge her sister, the scar that lost her the fight. This time she would not lose. Rey, she thought, I failed you last time. I couldn’t avenge your death.

I wasn’t strong enough. I will win this time, Rey. I will not fail you again. Leo touched the top of her scar again, then put her hand back on Velox’s back. Her golden Hunter’s eyes hardened in determination. She knew what she had to do.

“Get above his neck and roll!” she shouted to Velox. They had fought together often enough that he didn’t question her order, knowing that Leo trusted his instincts enough to only tell him what to do if she had a plan.

He took the place she told him to in half a second at most, and hovered there for another half second, which Leo was grateful for. She needed to prepare herself. Her arms shook, and she nearly lost her resolve, but then she gritted her teeth and stiffened herself again.

She felt Velox start to roll, and relaxed her knees’ grip on his scales slightly. Then Leo fell face first toward Rageblaze.

“Leo! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Velox screamed wildly at her, trying to dive, but blocked by Rageblaze’s tail, whipping around as he heard where Velox was, although he didn’t realize that Velox was no longer carrying Leo. Leo raised her sword just before she hit Rageblaze’s neck, and plunged it into his scales just behind his head. Her sword was sharper than any other blade in existence, and its scales were poisoned. She knew she had won. Despite this, she twisted the sword mercilessly, slicing it back and forth, pulling it out and stabbing again, ruthlessly causing as much damage as possible. She took all of her killing instinct that had built up just by being around her friends and channeled it into her destruction of Rageblaze. Her vision blurred, and Leo realized that she was crying.

“THIS IS FOR REY, YOU MURDERER!” she yelled, tears streaming down her face. “FOR REY!” Leo stabbed again. “MY SISTER, REYANA MALLOW ATREUS!” Rageblaze threw his head back, making an inhuman screaming noise. Leo knew that he could feel the poison spreading through him, causing an almost unbearable fiery pain everywhere it went. She knew she was giving him more pain than anyone was able to bear, but that didn’t matter to her. Still holding on to his neck, she saw the blood gushing from his neck and onto her body begin to turn black from the poison, and the vibrant color started to fade from his scales. But she did not stop. “I AM LEONE DRACAENA ATREUS! I AM HERE TO AVENGE MY SISTER’S DEATH!” Rageblaze threw his head back, shaking it back and forth violently. He was struggling to keep himself aloft, still making the screaming noise, but he was moving erratically, shaking so hard that Leo couldn’t hold on any longer. “I KILLED YOU FOR REY!” She shrieked, before Rageblaze’s shaking threw her off of his neck in a spray of blackened blood.

She flew into the air and kept falling, taking her sword with her only because her hand was clenched too tightly around the hilt to let go. She knew she wouldn’t need it anymore. She was two hundred feet above the ground, she knew she wasn’t going to survive the fall. Leo felt as if she were in slow motion, at this rate she would fall for hours before she died. She looked up and saw Rageblaze’s thrashing body above her, and a wave of remorse swept through her. She knew that no one deserved pain like that. The remorse was followed by disgust in herself as she thought of the cruel joy she had taken in causing pain like that in him just moments before. Even now, her remorse was fading, replaced by satisfaction. Let him suffer. He killed Rey. Let him suffer.

But it wasn’t just for Rey. This joy came from killing a dragon. Whenever she was around her friends, she had to fight an almost irresistible urge to kill them, and now she had finally let that instinct rule her. She was a Hunter, and she knew that eventually she wouldn’t be able to keep fighting that. She thought back to the times

that she had considered joining the Hunters, and revulsion filled her. She couldn’t have joined them, never. But she had considered it, and she still thought that it would have been a logical decision. She knew that Kyra’s goal was to eventually kill all of the Hunters, to do her best to ensure that they never returned. And Leo knew that she was a Hunter, and that she would have to die for their worlds to be safe. Even if she had survived her enemies, she would have fallen at the hands of her friends.

It is better this way, she thought, as she fell slowly towards her end. Her life had been nothing but concealed misery and self-hatred ever since Rey’s death. It was better to die now than keep existing the way she was, hiding even from her closest friends. She hated who she was, and what she had become. A creature made of pain, fear, loss, sorrow, anger, hatred. She had been a Hunter before, now she was even less. Leo knew that Kyra and Marge, and Shimmer and Bluemoon through them, had guessed that she was in more pain than she was letting on. She had seen the concerned expressions on their faces when they thought she wasn’t looking. But even they, perceptive as they were, had no idea how much she had lost. Thinking about this, about Rey’s… she couldn’t think the word. Not without pain, too much pain. She shut the door firmly on her memories, but continued to let the tears fall, pouring over her face.

Leo’s body shook with the strain of the last few minutes, but she smiled through her sobs. She had avenged Rey. Her mission completed, Leo let the weariness that follows tears wash over her. Her mind no longer seemed connected to her body. Leo realized in a detached sort of way that she wasn’t scared. She was tired, but she wasn’t scared. Her thinking had slowed, and she felt completely separated from reality.

Above her she could see Kyra, and noticed with vague interest that she and Shimmer were diving towards her, Velox leading them. They were going to try to catch her. It was too late, and they knew it just as well as she did. Velox’s speed, tired as he was, couldn’t dodge Rageblaze’s huge, thrashing body, falling faster now, quickly enough to catch her. Leo tried to shake her head to tell them not to bother, that she didn’t mind, not to mourn her, but her body didn’t seem to be responding to her commands. She noticed Kyra mouthing her name, a scream, but she heard nothing.

Leo felt nothing but exhaustion. Too long she had been hiding the majority of her pain, her loss. Too often she had woken at night screaming in terror, seeing Rey’s body again in her dreams. Too often she had calmed down and fallen asleep again only to have the horrific memory play out again and again, each time seeming as real as when it had happened the first time. Now she stopped pretending, let the exhaustion take her over, so different from the weariness of crying. Her body sagged in midair, letting go of all control.

Then, fearfully, slowly, she reached for the door to her memories. She was about to die, why not let herself remember? Leo planned to only crack the door open, to push down the majority of her feelings until the end. But as soon as she let herself crack open the door, see Rey’s smile once more, the flood of memories that she had pushed down for so long came rushing out, drowning her mind in a cascade of all the feelings that she had pushed down for the last year. The pain hit her with an almost physical force, and Leo screamed, a pure sound of drawn out agony. Her body tensed again, thrashing violently like Rageblaze’s. Her hand tensed on her sword, and she swung it towards herself as she thought about Rey, Rey dead, Rey dead because of her. Her fault. The sword bit into her arm, her leg, her side. She saw Rageblaze’s triangular plate on the end of his tail, swinging towards Rey’s head. She heard the crack! as Rey’s body hit the wall of the cave. She saw Rey’s body, lying dead against the wall of the cave, a tiny, crumpled heap against the wall. Her fault. Her blood ran down her body, mingling with Rageblaze’s. The fire from her sword started to spread through her veins. The pain was hardly bearable, yet it quieted her screams. Better to let this physical pain consume her than only be able to focus on her mental torture. The pain of the poison grew, and she shrieked in agony, but she welcomed it. Her blood began to turn black. This was what Rageblaze, along with all of her other victims, had felt. This was what

she had wanted to do to her friends. This was better than the memories, and was enough pain to make it almost impossible to have any rational thoughts, which was her goal.

As the cave floor drew nearer, she realized that this had always been the only ending left to her. She could join her brethren, the Hunters, and turn traitor to her friends, giving in to her instincts. She could fight and win against her enemies, but then either fight her friends to the death or let them kill her. Or she could go down fighting. The last option had always been the only one that she would have allowed herself to take.

Through her agony, she managed to think about Rey. The memories would not be silenced so easily. She saw Rey’s face, as joyful at it had always been, but it was quickly replaced, as the image of Rey’s body filled her mind, and she screamed louder, then pushed the tip of her sword back into her arm, letting it drain more poison into her. That was better, now she could only think words through her haze of pain.

Rey. I failed you.

But I have avenged you now, and I’m coming, Rey. I’m coming back to you.

She heard Kyra cry her name once.

I failed you.

Then the pain of the poison engulfed her mind. Her world went black. She reached the ground, and her scream cut off as suddenly as Rey’s had last year. One last tear leaked from her golden eye and slid down her cheek.

Leo was gone.

Rose Sisters Abby Geigerman A rose drifting in the wind Its sisters reach out Offering a helping hand But the rose refuses Arrogantly struggling And falling A rose fallen from the tree Shouting into the void, Please, please help me!

Its sisters see it in danger But it wilts away And they watched

Injustice Poem Madi Rockett An act of horror Of unfairness A discrimination of race Millions of innocent people All because of what they believe in A slaughter Like pigs to the meat district Unknowing of what they did wrong A punishment so severe, Hundreds of thousands of families were destroyed It’s incredible, really Just how ignorant and cruel people can be Lives obliterated, By a set of concrete boxes, And a horrendous man, with the wrong idea of perfect We remember the punishment Of so many For so little done This was the holocaust The ultimate act of injustice

Prejudice Cameron Fisher The wind blows against my back, It burns, And I collapse.

My master passes by, He does not see me, Relief fills me from tip to toe, But my body still aches.

My work is agonizing, Picking cotton all day long, It is not an easy task.

My master whips me, Until my back is mutilated, If I don´t pick, Enough pounds of cotton, Each day.

My back throbs, The sun is blistering, In the cotton fields of southern Alabama, I pick cotton.

When the horse trots by, My ears prick up, And I try to look my best, Even though, I know, I will never do a good enough job for him.

I try to delight my master, But all I get is whips thrashing against back, The treatment that I get, For the work I do for him, With nothing in return.

They don´t treat me like an equal; More like an animal.

They think, Since I don’t look like them, I can be forced to work.

The chains were not put on me, With my consent, But forced on to my ancestors, Without their will, So many years ago.

The whip lashes in the distance, I pray for change to come, One day.

Three Syllables Shriya Vundavalli Injustice Such gravity In a mere three syllables Three syllables that speak of Race Religion Color And the fate of millions of people Three syllables that speak of Fights and Riots And Histories Of dashed dreams And hopes muddled By the vile color Of dishonesty Humanity forsaken For The chance to live a life In exchange of another

When I Wake Up Cade Spector When I wake up I feel the freedom, But I know not everyone feels this.

Justice is something that everyone should have, But I know not everyone has it.

I can hear liberty ring in the morning, But not everyone can hear it.

Why? Why can't everyone be treated the same.

When some wake up, They feel judged.

Why is this put upon people?

Color, religion, were all the same And being tried from the time they wake up, And shamed for reasons they shouldn’t be shamed, Stereotyped for characteristics out of their control Tagged with preconceived opinions and ideas just for who they are, Why are they treated different?

Why are people tagged with opinions?

Opinions made with no reason Statements and thoughts should be made with facts Not just by how they look And one day I hope as I fall asleep I dream of all others waking up And hearing the sound of liberty Treated with fairness And feeling freedom

We Unite Hannah Gordon In a time before time there were only two species of animals. Penguins and monkeys. The world was split in two halves. One half was a jungle for the monkeys. The other half was an icy land for the penguins. Every now and then a monkey would cross the border and go to the icy land and they would die. Occasionally a penguin would cross the border and go to the jungle and die. About an eighth of the penguins thought that only penguins should be on the earth. There was also about an eighth of monkeys who thought that there should only be monkeys on earth. Those certain animals were always going up to the border and arguing. Once a month the leaders of each species went up to the border and thought of one way to stop the arguing. They tried all kinds of things and after two years they still had not thought of a way to stop the arguing. On the first day of the first month of the first year they met. They decided that they must die in the other’s territory. After they stepped into the other’s territory all of the penguins lined up on their side around the earth. The monkeys did the same. Then they all shook hands.

The monkeys and penguins united. The spirit rose back into the bodies of the leaders and they were alive once again. As they celebrated lots of other animals began coming down from the sky. The earth split into many parts. All the parts had lots of different species in them. That is why we had a first day of a first month of a first year. That is also why we exist. So next time you see a penguin or monkey give them your thanks for your existence. That is why in this one world we should all UNITE as one and we could do amazing things without being harmed by others.

Sinking Arielle Curtis Must fight against the sadness Must swim the top of the ocean To bask in the warmth of a smile The glow of life The shine of happiness To shy from the heat of anger The burn of a glare To feel emotion Happiness, Anger Love, Care The overwhelming sad DO NOT be dragged down by the hurt The insults The bullying The teasing The weights of sadness are pulling me down Making me sink I succumb to the sad Awash in the dark NO Be happy Pretend nothing is wrong Pretend echoes in my head Pretending is not real Be optimistic But why try Why, when there will always be sadness Anger, hate, hunger, death, negative Now I am sinking, sinking, sinking But wait, now I am sunk

Q: Why did the war happen?

Grace Wissink The sun slowly rose over the ocean outside my window on that fateful day of December 16, 1773. It rose in suspense, like it seemed to know what the day held. I took a look down into the harbor and sure enough, there was still a massive wooden cargo ship bobbing in the ocean. The poor captain had other places he needed to go, so we colonists could not send him away as done in New York. And our Governor Thomas Hutchinson would not just let us leave the tea in a warehouse to rot as done by Charleston. Luckily though, some of us had been able to think of a solution. One that would be delivered tonight. But the day was still to go on, and to work I had to go. I awakened my wife. She slowly sat up and smiled. “I almost forgot,” she whispered excitedly. “Today is the day.” I nervously buttoned up my coat and nodded.

“Don’t worry about it, you and the other Sons of Liberty are well prepared to give that rotten king and his subjects what they deserve” she said with a smirk. “What they’ve long deserved,” I replied, but my mind wasn’t on the subject. All that raced through it was the thought of getting caught, and being tried, and most surely losing the trial. I tried to shake my mind of off that subject. Finally! The day I had been waiting for! Great Britain from tonight on will longer enforce taxes.

Salutary Neglect wouldn’t even be needed because there will be no taxes! And the declaratory act would have to be repealed of course. The king and parliament making all the laws for us colonists? That is a situation so unfair it is laughable. But these awful laws were in effect and if I was caught throwing tea of a ship, things would not go so well. My sister Sarah had agreed to help with the disguises, but it was still a risky chance to take. This though, was not the time to retreat; it was the time to advance. Our riots and tar and feathers had finally induced the king to get rid of the last tax, but in this eternal war against them they had put out a new one. The Sons of Liberty would gladly repeat its actions on the new tea act as well though. Very gladly.

I walked into work that morning, the cool air of the morning making me feel more optimistic about the dreaded events of the day. The first thing I saw was Paul Revere, a colleague of mine, waiting to greet me at the door. “Ah, Nathaniel Bradlee, just the man I had been waiting for.” He said, grinning from ear to ear. I knew from experience Revere was never one to shy down from a challenge, and it had gotten him places. His propaganda for the Boston Massacre had been very successful, and he was admired and respected in the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association. Of course events like the Boston Massacre (where the Red Coats killed innocent people!) had led him to strengthen his patriotic beliefs and decide to join in on the grand even tonight. “I hope you aren’t nervous,” he said noticing my silence, “because this will be the most known event in History, and you would not want to be known as the Son of Liberty who threw up into the ocean along with the tea.” Snickers echoed throughout the work room of people listening into the conversation. “No, do not worry Paul, I feel very ready for this task.” I replied chuckling. “Time to give that filthy excuse for a king a little awakening on what we really think over here!” Cheers and Hurrahs came from every corner of the room. “Right you are Nathaniel. Is your sister ready to help us disguise ourselves?” Revere rolled his eyes at disguised.

“Yes, very much. She bought grease paint and collected feathers yesterday.” I responded sincerely. Revere raised his eyebrows. “Why; what is she planning for us to be disguised as?” he asked curiously. “Indians! I whispered to him.

“Mohawks. Isn’t that absolutely brilliant?” “Brilliant it is, Nathaniel,” he said, his eyes shining with excitement. “Think of it. Mohawks! I wonder how she’ll do it. Now get to work.” I gave a little salute and walked off to my work space. The butterflies were already starting to form in my stomach.

The work day was winding down, and we were all dismissed early at twilight. I led the group over to my sister’s husband’s home (who was also participating) to get set up. She was ready to go the minute we came in. Quickly she ushered us into the house and one by one we were in turn “disguised.” Grease was rubbed all over our faces to make us look dark-skinned as the Indians. Feathers were stuck in our hair to represent their intricate headdresses. I was the first one to finish being disguised, and the minute I turned around everyone burst into uproarious laughter. Even my sister was shaking with giggles. “What!” I said nervously, “What did you do to me?” My sister was still hiccupping when she replied. “Oh…..face……..funny……..just look.” She handed me a mirror and I looked in to see what her representation of an Indian was. My face had streaks of brown all over it and my hair was a complete mess with knots tied to keep the feathers in. I had seen Indians before; I did not at all look like one. My pale skin was still completely visible, and my hair

looked as if I had just rolled around in a bush. When she started setting up the other men, I whispered to her: “Don’t you think our disguises might be better if they were a little, well, more like Indians?” “Lighten up Nate,” she said. “It will be dark, and the main point of putting on these disguises that if people are questioned against their will they can easily say they did not know who was doing the thing because they were in a disguise of some sort.” “Ooooh that’s clever,” I said admiringly. “Isn’t it?” She replied with a smile. “I studied my fair share of law in school.” I laughed at that. Women can’t be lawyers!

Finally all the men looked just as ridiculous as I did, with their grease and feathers. Now it was just time to wait till the time to go out. Revere recapped the plan over and over. He was nervous, as Sam Adams was usually the life of our meetings; but he was well known by the King’s men, and joining in on this act could be very risky for him. Some of the men still grumbled about him saving his own life, but truthfully the Sons of Liberty would fall apart without him. So the night went on, and we heard the scurrying of many footsteps as people started to gather around the harbor. Fellow patriots were aware of the planned event and were very excited to see it carried out. Entertainment of this quality was scarce these days. Slowly the incoherent mumbles of the crowds turned into unrestful whispers, and finally they started talking in normal volume waiting for us to start the action.

Finally the time strikes, and Revere rounds up the men. “This is the time we’ve all been waiting for,” he says.

“This is the time we show the king he can’t and shouldn’t mess with us. Let’s go!” We all yell and run out of the house uttering battle cries like Indians. The crowd gasps with surprise and opens up a pathway to let us through. I almost laughed. Did they really think we were Indians? Maybe Sarah did a better job than I thought.

We kept running until we reached the ship. We came to halt and caught our breath; most of the men were huffing and puffing. Revere though seemed completely fine as he banged his fist on the wooden opening. Red coats opened a little eye slot at the top (the redcoats were “protecting the ship” for Thomas Hutchinson) and declared: “Who is knocking and why must you enter?” “We Indians are here to take your tea and throw it overboard!” Yelled Revere. The crowd cheered. The red coat quickly shut the slot. We started banging on the door, with the crowd screaming in the background. We had almost knocked it over until the redcoat opened the door. “We mean no harm,” he said nervously, realizing how many of us there were. “You may enter the ship, but you may not throw any tea overboard.” “Of course,” Revere smirked. He motioned us to stay back, then winked. “May I come aboard?” he asked graciously. “Please,” the redcoat said, visibly relaxing. He was young, about 18 from what I could see. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer either.

The second Revere stepped onto the boat he shoved the redcoat over and shouted for us to come on board. I looked into the cavernous opening of the grand ship. This was it. This was the time.

We all rushed on, and momentarily stopped. We stared in awe at the mounds of crates of tea, all balancing on top of one another. The same thought was running through all of our heads: how were we going to get them all overboard? Then suddenly we all snapped back into focus. I grabbed the same crate as Revere and we helped each other lug it up the steep stairs to the upper deck. When we got to the side of the deck, he ripped open the top of the crate. I could see the crowd staring at us, wondering what we were going to do. “Would you do the honors Nathaniel?” Revere asked smiling. “I’d be happy to,” I replied and grinned right back. I took out the first bag of tea, ripped it open with my bare hands, and slowly poured the contents into the deep black ocean. Instantly a deafening roar sounded from the crowd below. I threw the bag in behind it. Revere ripped open the next bag and poured the contents out a little faster.

The crowd got louder. One by one, we emptied out all the bags in the crate and then heaved the crate into the sea after them. The crowd by now was beyond themselves with excitement. The next pair of patriots started emptying out their crate too. We ran back down under the deck. “Well,” Revere said, “one down; many more to go.” I sighed, and we set to the laborious task.

The second crate was no less glorious as the first, with the crowd cheering, and something quite surprising happened. I was emptying out a tea bag when I lifted my head and saw a window lit by candle light close to the boat. I squinted my eyes and I swore I saw the shocked face of none other than Thomas Hutchinson himself! Never before had I seen anything but his usual calm sharp expression, and his look of horror made me laugh out loud. Revere looked over questioningly. I pointed over to the candle lit window and Revere saw him. He smiled and shouted to me, “I’m happy he sees this. I doubt he’s ever seen Indians taking over a ship!” He chuckled at his joke and we continued ripping open bags.

As time went past, the crates seemed to be emptying slower and slower. At the fiftieth crate, Revere shouted: “This is taking too long! Start throwing the bags with the tea directly into the sea! And you men over there, stop standing around watching us work and join in!” The men who were protecting us from the redcoats on the ship hurried to join in.

The redcoats hadn’t bothered us anyway. We started throwing in the bags one by one, and eventually by the armful.

Even though the night was freezing, beads of sweat started to form on my forehead as I lugged crates up the stairs, ripped them open, threw out the bags and then tossed the empty crate into the ocean. At the two hundredth crate, Revere gave up. “Just throw the crates into the ocean!” He yelled. So we started to just lift the heavy crates and throw them right into the sea. At the two hundred and fifteenth crate, I had an idea. I had noticed the crowd had quieted down and was a great chunk smaller than it had been at the beginning of the tea throwing. So I helped Revere throw over our box, ran to the edge and shouted to the crowd: “Gentlemen! We Indians will not be able to rid you of the tea before dawn without help! If you are young and strong, come aboard and help us get it all overboard! The crowd cheered again and a hundred young men jumped up to help us unload the ship. “Brilliant Nathaniel!” Revere yelled over the racket of boots on wood. He waved his hand. “Come on!” We ran down to the deck with renewed energy and continued unloading the boxes.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. When Revere and I threw over the last box, the crowd was barely there, but the cheers of the men who helped (“Indians” and normal colonists) was all I needed. Revere shouted for us to all get home, before Dawn arrived. I got home and collapsed in bed, not bothering to change out of my sweaty clothing.

I woke up in the morning to my concerned wife sitting by my bedside. A cold cloth rested on my forehead, and I was tucked into the bed. “I heard of the success last night,” she said gently. “I’m happy for you, but you felt as if you might have a fever-” “The success!” I interrupted her as the memories of the night before came back. “Dear, what time is it?” “Why, it’s almost noon Nate,” she said, surprised at my sudden awakening. “Almost noon!” I cried as I sprung out of bed, almost knocking her over. “Get back into bed! You are obviously sick behaving like this.” My wife said angrily. “Oh but I must go to work,” I pleaded with her. “There will be so much to discuss!” Her face softened. “Alright,” she said. “But be careful.” I was out the door in two minutes, lucky for me my wife had cleaned my face and took the feathers out of my hair. I jumped on my horse and rode over to work, where I delivered Sugar (my wife had named the horse for his love of sugar cubes and the cream color of his coat) to the stables. I walked into the work room where I was greeted by applause. Revere came up and clapped me on the back. “Fantastic job yesterday,” he said happily. “You too. It was quite the experience.” I replied smiling. “Now get to work,” he said grinning as he returned to his workspace. I saluted again and walked over to get started.

An hour before the end of the work day, the door swung open. Standing in the cool air was Thomas Hutchinson, covered in December snowflakes. He calmly walked in and surveyed the room. “You” he pointed at me. I swallowed and stood up, trying to look unfazed. “Governor Hutchinson,” I said coolly. “To whom do we owe the pleasure?” The Governor seemed confused by my politeness. “I have come to ask some questions to you about the events of last night.”

“Well, I can’t tell you anything.” I responded without emotion. “I was sick last night with a fever. I was home in bed” The rest of the men nodded their heads. “He left early from work sir,” Paul Revere spoke up from his work space. “He looked simply awful.” “Well,” Hutchinson responded. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I do have a sneaking suspicion that those “Indians” raiding the ship last night might have been patriots.” “Really?” I said. “There were Indians?” “Ah yes, you must not have heard the story yet,” He said. “But it does not matter, for they will pay the consequences. Boston will pay back for the tea, of course.” Revere’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but then shut it again. “Anything to say, Mr. Revere?” Hutchinson asked him. Revere firmly shook his head. “I thought not. Well I’ll be on my way. Tell me if you get any evidence of someone who might have committed this awful crime. “Goodbye Gentlemen!” And then he was gone.

The minute the door shut, Paul stood up from his chair. “This, Patriots,” He fumed, “Is why we are trying to stop the king. We don’t get a say in anything, and I am sick of it. The Sugar act came first, and with it brought the end of salutary neglect. It taxed our favorite treats, our tea and our coffee. Then came the ridiculous quartering act, where the soldiers took our food and shelter. Next was the horrendous Stamp Act, which taxed our valuable tools for work. That iswhen we Sons of Liberty decided no more! It was time to rebel. And the minute they finally get rid of the Stamp Act because of our protests, they come up with the even worse Declaratory Act, which told us we had no control over any laws at all. That we must obey without question. And then they release the terrible Townshend Acts, which said that

everything was taxed! And even though we succeeded the end of it, now they have decided to keep taxing us on tea. But it is not a matter of tea anymore. It is Taxation without Representation! We need strong influential members in parliament. We will not pay this money back. Our people should not need to pay for what we have done! We must call together the other colonies. This, my fellow Sons of Liberty, means war!”

Note from the author: Nathaniel Bradlee was actually a real participant of the Boston Tea Party, although all actions performed by him in the story are fictional. He was a member in the same organization as Paul Revere was, the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association. His sister Sarah, sometimes referred to as “the Mother of the Boston Tea Party”, did help disguise the men and is credited for thinking of the idea of dressing up as Mohawk Indians. To read more about Nathaniel Bradlee and also other participants of the Boston Tea Party please visit http://www.boston-tea-party.org/participants/NathanielBradlee.html

Kyobashi: Home of Edo’s Craftsmen Jay Sagrolikar While reconnoitering 18th century Edo (present day Tokyo) with Edoreki Gakushimaru, we stopped in Kyobashi, a place close to the heart of the city. It interests me to find out how all the different objects in Japanese society are crafted with such expertise and precision, and then sold by the merchants and passed up the line, eventually getting to the samurai. We came to Edo by means of the Tokaido Road, one of three chief highways connecting the Emperor living in Kyoto, to the Shogun residing in Edo. As the city streets of Edo are always teeming with people traveling from one place to another, the Tokaido Road, one of the busiest streets in the world, seemed like just another street. Compared to the streets in Europe, a Dutchman, Engelbert Kampferer, commented on the gargantuan size of the Tokaido Road: “In addition to the great barons passing to and from Yedo, and escorted by trains of hundreds or even thousands of men.

The roads are always thronged by ordinary citizens on business or on pilgrimage at certain seasons to one of their numerous holy sites. It is scarce credible that even here (in the countryside), it is on most days more crowded than a public street in any of the most populous town of Europe.” This comment explains how Japan is very economically advanced for the time. They had established a social hierarchy, the samurai at the top, and the wealthy merchants at the bottom. This man is in awe at what Japan has been able to accomplish. Kyobashi is short for ‘Kyoto Bridge’, and is also the name of one bridge in the center of the Kyobashi district. Architects in Japan design bridges according to the neighborhood in which it lies in’s size. They can range in size from the massive arch at Ryogoku to the small bridges that traverse the canals, leading to small districts of the city. Despite the great architecture of the Kyobashi Bridge, the reason Kyobashi the neighborhood is an imperative part of Edo’s economic structure is because there are many communities of craftsmen and artisans living there. In Kyobashi, cliques of people live in small villages across the town. A few examples are Tatami-machi, or mat-maker’s village, and Teppo-machi, or gunsmith’s village. One of the more famous areas in Kyobashi is ‘Ginza’, the site of the shogun’s mint. The artisans who work at the silver shops are part of one of just three authorized silver mints in Japan, the other two being in Sakai, Osaka; and another on Sado island. Nearby there is a gold mint, Kinza, and a copper mint, Zeniza. Based on this information, I can infer that the ‘Gin’ in Ginza means silver, the ‘Kin’ in Kinza means gold, and the ‘Zeni’ in Zeniza means copper. Albeit the majestic buildings in Kyobashi give it a grand appearance, it is still one of the ‘middle class’ areas of Edo. As we travel through the different districts in Kyobashi, we see different alleys with people selling things such as kimono, oke (wooden buckets & tubs), and iron tools. One of the alleys leads to a wide square, the center of the districts. We were in the heart of the weaver’s district, but there are many more squares like this in other places of Kyobashi. As we continue our trip, we see groups of guards, or yoriki, who seem to have the authority around here. This keeps letting us know about the social hierarchy that Japan has created, where the samurai have the most power. As we pass the guards, we come to a potter’s village, as pottery is a highly developed craft in Edo. We see beautiful works such as plates, saucers, and vases. Gakushimaru tells me that people in the crafting business have to train for several years before getting a good job. People who are extremely talented at craftsmanship can be treated as a higher member of society, and are granted honorary ranks of nobility. Lastly, we come to the place where samurai get their swords. Gakushimaru explains to me that it is painstaking job smelting steel into exceedingly sharp swords. We watch people pounding the steel into swords, constantly heating and cooling them. After touring Kyobashi, I realize the amount of practice and skills people dedicate their lives to, making different things such as swords. What I don’t understand is that after a life’s worth of very hard work, the artisans and craftsman are still treated as the second lowest members of society. It is saddening that all this hard work is not appreciated in Japan, and only the samurai, the people who use these objects, are highly commended for their uses for them, even though people of the artisans and craftsman’s class put in hours and hours of difficult work.

The Bent Tree Samantha Lattanze The branches of a Bent tree, carrying The weight of the leaves That are troubled Thoughts The birds That are angry words The snow That is the time spent wallowing in Sadness and the never ending Winter Which is life

Slipping Through the Cracks MaryKate Englehardt Shadowy figures and shapes shuffle Watery glass eyes follow What seemed so important yesterday, now seems irrelevant Pondering fingertips dancing atop the surface In the back of my head spinning wheels churn Only thoughts of you and the smile that has escaped you Slipping through the cracks was white paint The Walls mourn and groan; A solemn farewell Promises of hellos, that you are uncertain you can keep.

You cheated me Of the songs you whispered, And the deep words of love The part of you I need; No longer a pawn An advancement in the game you always lose.

Now your lips are drawn Selfish thoughts circle and call Whisky washy, lingering To help you sleep through the night Oh sweet childLook at the cut strings around you The strings that once bound you to faces Faces that became fatigued and wept for you If I shall save you I shall cut this last string Hold the mirror that you bought long ago That sat in the back of the door Take it now and take a good long look; Loss seeps in, slowly but surely The worst kind of loss is the loss that makes you look behind you The trail of tears, A river of fright, A lake of mistakes, Will haunt you through the night ppy Birthda

Holocaust Horrors Krishan Guzzo They took my life.

The people who I thought were my friends Mock my values to no end.

I haven’t seen the schoolyard in days As they wish to ban My family’s ways.

I was stuck in my house with nowhere to go There was not a friend in sight, But countless a foe.

One day they came, And forced us to flee And from that day on My eyes never saw glee.

We rode for a while Oblivious to our fate What would become of us?

Up to now, All we’ve seen is hate.

Then the time came, We arrived at a gate, We got off the train, And stood at a wait.

By twilight that night, They ushered us in, And I lost my family.

They went left, I went right.

This is not good.

Why am I here?

The worst I’ve committed Was an innocent jeer.

They have no right to do this, Like them, I’m human to my core.

But I guess they didn’t care, as then it happened I was swallowed by the chamber And my thoughts were no more.

Trapped in a Box Erin Greig Trapped in a box, With no way out, No escape, Trapped in a box, Everyone looks the same, An identical copy of depression, Trapped in a box, No one is the same, On the inside, Of course, Trapped in a box, Of judgement, Of discrimination, Of sorrow, Trapped in a box, Grappling for a way out, Clawing at the sides, Scratching on the metal, Raking the doors and windows, Trapped in a box, Struggling for escape, Desperate for a way out, Persevering for change, Trapped in a box, With no way out, No escape.

New Day Jihad Libbus New start, today’s a new day I have to go to school I promised my ma I would not stray Left the south behind, now up here where it’s cool A big new school I will see many a new face’s Yes I am different but we really are all the same Other kids will see me but not look past the race You and I are God’s children none of us lame New teachers too don’t think us alike The white folk in front and me in the back When I go to school ma lets me use the bike One rack says white the other says black “Now it is time to make justice a reality for all of god’s children” This is what Dr.King say, it always seems to bring out a grin We walk we talk, we always do our best We follow very close to Gods word, only kindly protest

In D - Klein

By Om Naphade, Alyssa Thompson, and Duncan McSorley Scene 1:(Dinner at the Klein household) George: Dad, I have been thinking about what I want to do in college. You know I am 17 all ready!

Frank: Yes, yes, I was thinking about it as well. What have you been thinking about? (muttering lawyer under his breath) Hayden: (looks up from phone) Dad, be quiet. Go on George. (turns her attention back to phone) George: I...(swallows) I think I want to go to acting school.

Frank: (spills his drink all over his shirt) WHAT! (Hayden looks up suddenly and turns off her phone, now listening properly) You can’t do that! You have to go to law school, like I did!

Hayden: Dad, he wants to do what he wants to do. You let me be a dancer when I went to college. That was a year ago. Let him be an actor.

Frank: Hayden, I was ok with you being a dancer, because you were good at it. And I want George to be a lawyer! He has no acting skills that I have seen so far.

George: Dad! Since when did you change your mind about me following my dreams?

Frank: Since your dreams became so far fetched. You have the blood of a great lawyer inside of you. You are even showing it right now!

Hayden: Dad, you just haven't seen his acting. He is great! I went to his last school performance, he plaFrank: WHAT!? (George and Hayden jump) You are still doing school performances!? Without my permission!?

George: (accusing voice) Really Hayden, you had to let it slip.

Hayden: He was going to find out sooner or later! Anyways, you were good. (now addressing Frank) He was, he played the part of Lysander perfectly!

Frank: Who is Lysander?

Hayden: A young man who falls in love with a girl named Hermia. He is one of the main roles in A Midsummer Night's Dream. A Shakespearean Masterpiece.

George: Yeah Frank (said scornfully)! I played him and I was awesome.

Frank: YOU WILL ADDRESS ME RESPECTFULLY! NOTHING ELSE, EVER. George: Only once you address my dreams respectfully. (rolls eyes then storms out of the dining room.)

Frank: Ugh, boys these days. Hayden, what do you think?

Hayden: George should go to acting school. (gives him reproaching look then attempts to storm out of the dining room after George) Frank: Hayden Elizabeth Klein! You come back here this instant! You are only 19, and I still have slight control over you!

Hayden: You don't have control over me. You lost the control when I turned 18. (successfully storms out of the room).

Frank: (mocking voice after) Blah, blah, blah you can't control me. (now addresses audience in questioning voice) Why does everyone in this family disrespect me?

Scene 2: (Now in George's bedroom, George is looking at his computer) Hayden: What are you doing?

George: Looking at acting colleges. Look at this one, Carnegie Mellon (Shows her his screen) It is a really good college. Such good reviews!

Hayden: It looks cool! Now we just have to convince dad to let you go.

George: (mutters) Yea, like he will ever listen or care after tonight.

Hayden: Maybe not, but we can try. Good Night.

George: Night.

(Hayden runs into George's room the next morning) Hayden: Wake up! Wake up!

George: (groan) Hayden: Are you listening? (George nods) Good. I was up all night thinking about how to convince dad! I finally have it.

George:(Moaning) Wait two hours....

Hayden: No! We need to do this now. You have to send in your college letters in a few weeks, and I have to go back to college in a week.

George: Fine. (Sits up and yawns) What's your idea?

Hayden: My idea, is that dad won't understand that you are a good actor unless we prove it to him! We have to put on a play just the two of us!

George: No offense, but you aren't that good at acting.

Hayden: Rude! Ok fine. I will be the director. What do you think the subject of the play should be?

George: I don’t know, maybe, THE FINE LIFE OF GEORGE LLYOD KLEIN!... Sorry, Good huh?

Hayden: No. We can decide later but first we need get dad on board. Let's to go eat breakfast, I am starving!

What if we do another Shakespeare? (snaps again and everything unfreezes) George: Fine, but we don't have much time knowing that you are going back to college in a week. Let's just go eat and talk to dad about it. (go down to breakfast) (at breakfast) Hayden: (nice voice) Dad, um, George and I were thinking about something this morning, and last night.

Frank: (excited) Will George be a lawyer? Yes! I win!

George: No, dad.

Frank: WHAT!? YHayden: Dad! Be quiet! The neighbors are listening. And listen to us! I haGeorge: We have.

Hayden: We (looks pointedly towards George) have a plan to show you that George is actually a good actor.

Frank: And what will make sure that I am there to be a part of this plan? Or I am guessing, see this "performance"?

Hayden: Because this is something you will want to see. And I have stopped you from doing anything when he will perform.

Frank: Ugh, fine. Say I go watch him act. What will I be seeing?

Hayden: He is performing... um. You will get more information later.

Frank: And what draws me to this?

Hayden: I will let George explain. He did come up with the idea after all.

George: Um, just wait. I will (dramatic voice) perform for you (normal voice) on um, (turns to Hayden, and whispers) what day?

Hayden: Tomorrow.

Frank: I will see this today. George, go get ready.

Hayden: Ok, he will. Go read your lawyer magazine or whatever you do these days. (in backstage of theater) Hayden: Just go perform already.

George: You got it.

Hayden: Good luck.

George: Thanks (walks on stage, Frank is sitting in audience) George: Hello Dad. Today I will be performing a monologue by Romeo in William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Thank you. (clears throat) George: (starts acting) But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? (lights go off) It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. (lights go on) Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, (lights go off) Who is already sick and pale with grief, (lights go on) That thou her maid art far more fair than she: (lights go off) Be not her maid, since she is envious; (lights go on) Her vestal livery is but sick and green (lights go off) And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.(lights go on) It is my lady, O, it is my love!

George: Thank you for watching Dad! And participating!

Frank: When did I participate? (looks innocent) Hayden: When you helped us with the lights!

George: How was my acting?

Frank: I don't want to admit it, but it was good.

Hayden and George: Yes! (high-five too hard) OW! (shake their hand in pain) Frank: Fine, but I want to know if you have something in mind.

George: I have just the thing. Carnegie Mellon. Hayden and I have done research. A lot of it too.

Frank: Alright.

George: (happy dance) Woohoo!

(George is still doing the happy dance) George: (repeats 4 times) I did it!

Hayden: Yea you can stop now.

George: *sigh* Ok. (does it twice more) Hayden: (snaps) Well that went well. Thanks for watching! CURTAIN! (snaps) Hayden: George! Stop already!

Injustice Lindsey LaSasso It wasn’t my fault I was blamed Yet everyone believes I did it But how could I have?

I have good morals, and am smart enough to stay out of trouble But that doesn’t change anything It isn’t my fault I was blamed People I don’t even know look down at me with disgust The eyes of the people I love are filled with scorn and shame But it isn’t my fault I was blamed Walking down the street to the market Is a death wish Sticks and stones rain down upon my head, Thrown by mysterious, shadows Faceless villains That follow me everywhere But it isn’t my fault I was blamed My story is so warped, They made minnows into whales Molehills into mountains Puddles into oceans But it isn’t my fault I was blamed No one is on my side because I was blamed But it isn’t my fault…

The Halloween of Courage Hannah Ackman I am only ten years old, but this is my first year trick-or-treating by myself. I am only trick-ortreating in my neighborhood, but there aren’t a lot of houses in this neighborhood. I only have 2 pieces of candy and I have been trick-or-treating for over an hour. I check my watch and realize it is already 11:00 p.m., and Mom wants me back home by 11:45 p.m. I need to get more candy, fast. I turn around and one of my friends is calling for me to wait up. When she catches up, she says “I dare you to go and trick-or-treat at that old abandon house.” I agree to the dare because she offered five pieces of my favorite kind of candy.

This house has been deserted for almost five years, but 2 days ago a coated black figure walked into the house and never came back out. The house has 2 broken windows, the roof is coming off, and there is a cloud only over this house. I gather up my courage and walk up to the house. I knock on the door and it opens by itself. I jump back surprised, but I hear someone screaming and I want to help them. When I go in, I start to say something, but I am interrupted by another scream. I jump up and run behind a couch. From my “hiding place” I hear another scream and voices. I look out from my hiding place and realize that there is a TV in the room across from me. I breathe a sigh of relief. When I go over to the TV to turn it off, I see that a big purple monster is holding the remote. I jump back and fight the urge to scream. The monster is sleeping and I would like to keep it that way. I slowly back away, but when I am almost back to the couch I trip on a rug. The monster wakes up and turns around slowly. I run upstairs and realize that I am now creeping around a monsters home. There is one bed upstairs, but nowhere to hide. I carefully open an unbroken window. I quietly slide out of the house and onto the roof. I go back the way I came and as I jump back into the house, part of the roof shingles fall off the house. I finally find a hiding spot inside a closet. I can hear the monster climbing up the stair, and he walks up the closet. When he opens the door of the closet he screams, then I scream and we both run away.

The monster ducks into a room and comes out with a bowl of candy. The monster walks up to me, and says "You want candy?" I manage to say "Yes I do!" He tells me to pick out five pieces of candy. I thank the monster for the candy. Then, he asks me “Will you be my friend?” At that moment I realized that by having courage I made a new friend.

Goodnight Poem Chloe Griffin I feel the thin sheet curl around me.

I hear the dog’s collar jingling behind the door.

The fan ripples, bouncing off the walls.

The sound machine echoes through each room.

The clock says 12:00, yet I cannot force my eyes to close.

Netflix movies blare through the wall from the room to the right.

The thick boiling water splashes into the tub in the room to the left.

I turn and twist, making the bedsprings bounce like a trampoline.

Suddenly, everything seems to fade; I cannot peel my eyes open anymore.

After what feels like just seconds, someone turns on the lights.

Injustice Brett Alberse Injustice is the darkness within any light, The consequences of every decision.

Injustice is the cause for pain and strife, And the reason for loss of life.

Injustice is always there.

Injustice leads a conquest of sorrow, A campaign of destruction.

Like the snap of a bone, Followed by a pained moan.

Injustice is always there.

Injustice is the hidden knife To drive between the ribs.

The slam of a door, Everyone’s always crying for more.

Injustice will always be there

Dragon Hunting Sara Martin My wings beat steadily as I flew west. The rising sun felt warm against my scales, wonderful after another night in a chilly, cramped cave. The full grown trees below me looked like tiny branches gently swaying in the wind. The forest was full of life that only my dragon eyes could see from this height. Colorful birds danced across the treetops, singing to each other. A squirrel scampered up a tree, and darted into a hollow. Moss was spread across the rocky forest like a toddler had taken green paint, and flung it on the earth. A tiny trail of mist floated through the trees. I took in a deep breath, and filled my lungs with the thin mountain air. Hunting in the morning was tiring, but like everyone else a dragon needs breakfast. Speaking of food, below me was a mountain goat gently trotting through the trees, headed directly for a clearing. He stepped forward a couple paces, and then walked into the opening. I could see his creamy white fur very clearly against the gray and green mountainside. He leaned over and sniffed the ground, probably investigating the whiff of wild onion that I could smell even from my height. He was distracted. It was the perfect moment to attack.

I folded my wings in, and took a deep breath. My tail streamed behind me in a straight line, my head tilted toward the ground to transform my sleek body into a missile, aimed right at the goat. The sky and wisps of mountains clouds I was above fell away, and I was left hurtling towards the ground, but completely in control. It was so wonderful I risked closing my eyes for a few dangerous moments. The sensation of soaring through the sky blind was unlike any other. I snapped my eyes back open when I realized I must be moments from hitting the ground, but instead of seeing the ground, I saw a pale, icy blur swooping below me, and whipping the goat away. I blinked in surprise, and pulled up from my dive.

It was another dragon, and he was stealing my goat. I growled. This sort of thing didn't happen often in dragon society. We lived far away from each other with strict territorial boundaries. I own this cave.

You own that kingdom. I hunt in this forest. You hunt in that lake. It was simple. But for some reason this dragon was straying deep into my clearly marked territory and stealing a goat literally out from under my nose. I landed clumsily, lost in thought, confused, and slightly winded from the hard impact.

Who did this dragon think he was, stealing my prey from me?

I leaped back into the air, flapping my wings for height and speed. This strange dragon had gained a few seconds while I landed, but this forest was strange to him. This was my home, my domain, my land. I knew every inch of it.

The wind pushed me along quickly as I chased after the dragon. His icy wings were loud and noisy, snapping branches and brushing against dry leaves. I smoothly dodged the obstacles and caught up to him with quiet stealth. Just as I was about to reach him, he neatly flipped around underneath me, and started going the other direction. I looped my tail around a branch, and hurled myself towards him.

He looked back, and his eyes widened with surprise. In his distraction, he slammed face first into a tree.

I swooped down, and landed on him claws first. I grabbed his face, and whirled it around to see who the intruder was. I gasped, and dropped his head back on the solid roots of the tree. “Sorry, Dad.� I muttered.

Prejudice Nate McShane Prejudice is in our nature, Used as a shield to keep us safe, Not let us get out of reason.

Once it gets abused…

It turns on us and creeps up behind us.

It’s a con artist lurking in the shadows, Waiting to strip us of our peace, kindness, and understanding.

It confuses us, It jumbles our brain up into a furious entangled mess.

Once we break free from the mess, We frown upon ourselves from ear to ear, We then after the sorrow and disappointment we face, We learn.

And grow stronger, Smarter, Wiser, And better ourselves.

We live happily until…

The forces of laziness thrust back into an alleyway, Where we stare prejudice in the face.

I am from……

Anna Cheng I am from orchids From soccer balls and pencils I am from the brick walls and concrete foundations and stairs that creak when I bound and run around the house.

It always smells like Alfredo cheese sauce and spaghetti here.

I am from the tree in the backyard The climbing tree, a creeping myrtle Whose long gone limbs I remember As if they were my own.

I’m from birthdays and hearing aids From my da and mum And from napping on a couch.

I’m from deaf and hearing aids And that math is important.

I’m from tucking in.

I’m from North Carolina and dreams that can be achieved.

From ice cream and sautéed spinach From napping on a lawn chair- inside With my da.

There Is A unicorn Under my bed.

And Doctor Who is my computer wallpaper.

Mars Madness Vibhav Nandagiri We humans have always marveled at the idea of sending one of our own to the planet Mars. Just like the Apollo Missions from the 60’s and 70’s; this dream was soon about to become a reality. At long last, decades of mere speculation about the 4th planet from the Sun was going to come to an end. All of the sci-fi movies, books, and conspiracy theories would have finally be proved right/wrong. To think, within the near future, some brave souls who now inhabit the Earth would have been appearing in magazines, books, and TV Shows, about to make the biggest sacrifices to help humans march on towards their goal of exploring the vast cosmos. People would have adored “them,” they would have been inspired by “them,” they would have wanted to be “them.” And to think, I would have been one of “them.”

The letter of acceptance was as unexpected as the thought of me feeling elated on a muggy Monday morning in March. I woke up, bleary-eyed and groggy. After about 15 minutes, I was downstairs in my running shoes, ready to take a morning run. Another 15 minutes later, after a relaxing morning run, I finally came back to earth. The dread of another work week as a NASA Scientist settled upon me. As I put on my work clothes, I slowly traipsed outside my house to get the mail. When I came back in and sifted through a bunch of mail, (mostly junk magazines I’ve never subscribed for) I came upon the white envelope with the NASA logo on it. I shook the envelope to inspect its contents. Then, after carefully open it, I saw an 8 ½” by 11” paper with writing on it. Upon seeing the writing, I was reminded of a poem I wrote in 6th Grade to describe what we want to be when we grow up…

There once was a little child.

As he gazed upon the night sky, several questions formed in my mind.

How vast is this universe? What are those stars made of? Will humans ever explore the entire cosmos?

So he stayed, possibly for hours, staring at the vast stars that fill the night like the city lights.

To think, “Compared to the universe, we are just a tiny piece of the puzzle.”

That kid will always be me.

I ran straight to my car, and forcefully opened the lock. To think, being sent on the Mars Colonization Expedition was an honor only given to a few lucky souls. But it would be a huge sacrifice because there was no guarantee of a safe return. I would have to spend years isolated from my family and friends. But the scientific field would advance in leaps and bounds. What sort of dilemma was this? I raced along the highway nearing 80 MPH. I was so eager that I might have crashed into twenty cars if I wasn’t an experienced driver. I dreamed of hovering in a spaceship thousands of miles away from earth, being all that people talked about. I dreamed of discovering new forms of life on Mars and becoming world famous. I even dreamed of being the first person to step on Mars. In a record time of ten minutes, I pulled up in front of my workplace, and so started a new chapter of my life…

I woke up. I rubbed my half-asleep bleary eyes as I rolled over on my bed. The first thought that came to my mind was, “Where am I? This isn’t my NASA workplace, it’s my bedroom!” Then a realization dawned on me.

It was all a dream. A dream that was about to hit its climax and dropped straight down. The sheer joy I once had changed into a crushing defeat as I realized that I am merely another 6th Grader, dreaming about my future.

“Oh well. My days as an astronaut will come, but not today.”

Walls Arielle Curtis My walls hurt.

Keeping people out, it hurts.

Every insult, mean comment, snide remark They all drill holes in my wall and I can feel every single one.

I make doors, ladders, steps I let people inside Inside my walls, I’m on an island.

This island has one tree.

The tree is my soul I give each person who manages to get inside one leaf.

A small part of my soul.

But I think, how long do I have till I have no soul left to give?

How long do I have before I am lost, no leaf for me Nothing to remind me of who I am Nothing left of me.

Nothing left of the person who loves Nothing left of the person who cares, hopes, dreams.

Nothing left of what makes me, me.

How long till I forget how to make ladders and doors and steps How long till the ocean of sadness floods my island and I am swept away with the tide How long till my island is barren, my walls still tall Then they will crumble Everyone kept out, everything I have protected myself from Now is inside my walls But there is no me there to greet them By then, I’m gone Gone with the tide The tide of sadness

I Charged Ahead Nathan Mitten Everyone said, “You can’t,” but I charged ahead.

They said “That’s impossible,” but I charged ahead.

Some even told me “It’s not worth trying,” but I charged ahead.

I stood my ground, took my time, tried hard, and did it.

After that none of them told me that I couldn’t do something or that not everything is possible because, they knew.

That no matter what, I would charge ahead.

My Folk Tale Meirav Solomon On a hot summer day, there was a beautiful, popular, smart girl named Ashley, on Swordswoman Isle.

When she woke up that morning she thought of her loving, smart and caring boyfriend. There was a prophecy in her city that they would be together forever. She was so caught up in her daydreaming that she was 5 hours late for school. During break, she saw her boyfriend kissing her enemy. She walked up to them and shouted,” Why would you do this to me! I have done nothing to hurt you!”

The girl responded saying, “it is not my fault!” “He just started to kiss me and I could not get away.”

The Ashley huffed away, miserable and discomforted. She had never thought that Michael, her boyfriend would ever do something so despicable. When she got home she got her phone taken away for going to school so late in the day. While she was in her room, she thought,” to win my boyfriend back I will have to make myself more pretty than her and more fit than her too.” So that she did. She climbed mountains all week and hired the most famous cosmetologists ever. The next day, she talked with her boyfriend again and he still loved the other girl. Ashley was furious and couldn’t control her emotions. She, then, thought up a scheme to eliminate the girl from her boyfriend’s view. On a quiet night on the Isle, she crept into the girl’s room and impaled her in her sleep.

She went to Michael in front of everyone and said, “This is the blood of your girlfriend, now you have to be my boyfriend!!!!”

Michael shouted back, “Why would I go out with a mass murderer? Haven’t you done enough to hurt my heart? You are the worst girlfriend anyone could ever have!”

Michael disliked this and was horrified. So horrified that he banished Ashley to a faraway land where she had no one to love or kill. The end.

Fear Shriya Vundavalli Fear It creeps up on youLike ivy on a crumbling building Sometimes it’s like it’s not there But it always is It’s always lurking in some dark corner Waiting For a moment that is so full of joy That it couldn’t possibly be ruined Until it is

Defining Sadness Samantha Lattanze How do you define sadness?

Is it pain?

Pain that cuts through your heart like a gunshot on a clear, winter morning?

Is it lingering heartbreak, like a monument; a reminder, a memory?

Is it bittersweet? Half sadness, half happiness; or relief?

Is sadness physical? Psychological?

A soul can be consumed in sadness, in doubt.

Enveloped in a wave of darkness, of self-doubt.

The last golden ray of hope tries, and fails to cut through the obscurity, a candle in a tornado.

And hope, that you will never be able to define sadness, for in order to define it, You must have felt it. In order to feel it, You must give sadness permission.

And only the strongest can say no.

All I hear are words Maria Stevens People talk, no doubt.

The words leaving their mouths in harmony.

They speak opinions in elaborate forms, Yet all I hear are words.

Words stuck together like a sandwich.

Thrown together with force, an attempt to make sense.

The thought of gossip, Of the forced beliefs unto others.

Yet all I hear are words.

No one stands up.

No one makes an effort.

And everyone is satisfied.

No one tries to correct, Letting the thoughts flow as a stream.

Yet all I hear are words.

A problem with a variable, A missing solution.

The problem, unsolvable.

Everyone talks, making noise.

Yet all I hear are words.

They say a hero came that day, They solved the unsolvable problem.

They took on the challenge, And took a stand.

And now, they aren’t just words.

A Haiku Vibhav Nandagiri “Writing is like an art.

The words are like the colors.

Each one different.�

WAVE Anna Cheng I screamed as the wave hit me, all saltiness and tasting like an oversalted fried onion ring that was at the bottom of the plate where all the sauce and the salt was. The water washed up my nose, and I snorted, trying to get the saltwater and the salt smell that seemed to be everywhere out of my nose. (Well duh it is! It’s the ocean, dummy!) An epic fail, since my best friend Daphne kept making these funny faces that were making both of us collapse into fits of giggles that nobody really understood.

We were at Myrtle Beach. It was 102 degrees Fahrenheit. There were seagulls flying everywhere, and pooping on peoples' beach umbrellas… kinda gross, huh? My dad was feeding the seagulls and flying a kite. (You would ask, "At the same time?" Yep, he does that. The seagulls were pooping on my kite too.)

I yelled again, grinning at the many seagulls in the sky that were circling my dad like this huge, impenetrable, white cyclone (Don't you think vortex would be a better word? Whatever.) Of seagull and feathers just for a piece of moldy, white whole wheat bread that was from our lunch. (Now that, would make a great semiattacking machine and armor! I think I have a picture from somewhere….)

My brother, Max was escaping. Again. “Annah!” He squealed, “Annna—” He was cut short midsentence, and he fell down face first into the sand. Ploomph! (For a reference, he has never ever said my name correctly when he was a baby.)

He got back up, and toddled towards me. I grinned, and picked him up. I joked, “You are an escape artist!”

Max smiled, and agreed, “Quack!”

I grinned, (like a Cheshire cat?) and said, “Moo!” He giggled, and fell face first into the sand—again. I picked him up and swung Max around, and brought him back to the land of rainbow beach umbrellas, bread-and-seagull vortexes and beach towel. I set him down on the chair. (I’ll end it here. I forgot what happened next!)

I called to Daphne, “Let’s race!”

“Okay! Coming! To where?”

“To… that… pink pole over there!”

“Cool! Let’s do it!”

“THREE, TWO, ONE….. GO!” And we were flying across the sand at a breakneck speed. Around my dad, The Magical Seagull Cyclone, (He got another bag of bread! Where did he get that?!) the seagulls, the beach umbrellas, (Daphne was catching up) and then the pole.

I yelled, “I WON!” “No you didn’t!” balked Daphne, with a grumpy face.

“Oh yes I did!” I insisted.

“Okay. Whatever.” She grumped, and started to walk back Then, I had an idea.

“Let’s race again!”

“Okay! But this time, I’m going to win.” She joked.

So, of course, I let her.

THUNDER

The next day, there was a thunderstorm outside our window. The waves were rolling, and the thunder roared and the lightning flashed. The day felt interminable, until I had an idea.

“Let’s build a fort!” I called to Daphne.

She excitedly answered, “Awesome! Alright!” (It was more of a scream.)

I ran to ask my dad and my mom if we could build a fort. We watched them. And waited for their answer, which was unanimous. “Yes! Sure, why not? Okay. Clean it up afterwards. As long as you don’t wreck the beach house!” the grown-ups said.

We screamed, “YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAS!” Then Kelly (Daphne’s sister) pouted. “I wanna build a fort too!”

Daphne yelled, “NO WAY!” “How about we let Kelly into the fort when we finish it?” I asked.

Kelly begged, “Please, Daph? Please please please please?”

Daphne thought about it for a second. Then she made a pouty face. “Okay, as long as you don’t ruin the fort when you come in. Okay?”

Kelly grinned. “Okay.”

I started to the closet for blankets and sheets, while Daphne found chairs.

“Let’s make a super huge ginormous fort!” I called to Daphne.

“Okay! This is gonna be fun!”

“How about we make it a square with a triangle on top!”

“The shape?” Asked Daphne.

“Yeah! The shape of the fort will be….” I counted on my fingers the number of sides on a square connected with a triangle would be. “One, two, three, four, five… six! Six sides!” (Yes, Dora was my hero back then. Kinda explains why I sounded like her when I count.)

“So we build a fort and let everyone in?”

“Sure!”

So we got started.

It ended up looking like a giant, twisted monster cyclone of chair, brooms, mops, and pillows. But it was comfy.

We were so tired and energized at the same time. We made an entranceway out of one of the remaining chairs, and an exit of pillows. And we let everyone in, with room to spare. The grown-ups left the fort after they crawled in, and we all (Max, Kelly, Daph, and me) collapsed in a heap on the pillows and started to nap. It was so fun! I think that this is my most vivid memory.

SUMMER SKY The next night, we decided to go to the boardwalk, a few blocks over from the hotel. It was 78 degrees Fahrenheit. The wind was soft and sometimes it bit at our chapped lips and cheeks. We were wearing jackets and I was wearing a pair of knee-length blue shorts. (Lovely stubborn me- wanting to wear shorts. I was freezing!)

There were many people fishing. The boardwalk seemed silent and loud at the same time, with people yelling, the seagulls and the birds making noise and people selling food. “Get yer surfboards, right here, right priice, right time! Churros! Churros! Churros for sale! Cherry Popsicles! Nice and cold! Right here! Right now!”

I got super excited, so I started to yell and squeal and run around.

Daphne ordered, “Be quiet Anna! There’s people fishing! You’ll scare the fish away!” Oh, yeah right. She’s older than me by only four months, by the way. Our parents met when we were babies and we’ve known each other for a super-duper-uber long time.

Now, before you read this conversation, you must remember that I was only five. I am very stubborn, and before you tell me off, here you go.

Oh, lovely stubborn me. “No! I like being loud!”

Of course, Daphne was mad. “I’m older than you. You have to listen to me!”

“By only four months and a week!”

“So what? You still hafta listen!”

“Nope! Nowaynowaynoway!”

“Fine,” sighed Daphne, who wandered off. (This was probably our only fight, next to the famous and amazing Cherry Popsicle fight. Long story. Later. Next few paragraphs.)

“Hey look!” I yelled.

“What?” Asked Daphne grumpily.

“Cherry popsicles!” I said.

“WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHERE? WHERE? WHERE?” She screamed.

“Are you blind?” I grinned. “Right in front of you!”

“Oh.” She giggled. “How much are they?”

“A dollar. It says on there…..” I tried to read it. “A- dollar- a… Popsicle! I have two dollars!”

Daphne screamed. “OHMYGODSOHMYGODSOHMYGODS I WANT ONE!” (She isn’t usually hyper around people unless there was said cherry Popsicle.)

So, I walked up and asked for two cherry Popsicles.

HOLD! Before you even read this part, you must read this. :) Before you call me a stupid, ignorant, buttface for buying two different Popsicles because we’re best friends, you can only buy one kind or suffer, (insert Anna Glare here), or fight over the Popsicle because you only bought one to share, you must keep reading and find out what we did, and not what you, the reader, my lovely friend, would have done. Okay. As I said, keep on reading.

The guy said there was only one cherry Popsicle left, but there were lemonade ones.

So I bought a cherry Popsicle and a lemonade Popsicle. (You can probably guess, OH NO… Duhn duhnn duduhnnn….

“I got two popsicles!” I sang out. Oh no, I thought. There were no more cherry ones.

“AWESOME! But why is there only one cherry Popsicle?”

“Because….. There was no more cherry Popsicles. There was only one! So I bought a lemonade Popsicle for you!”

“WHAT?” “There is only one cherry Popsicle,” I explained.

“WHAT??”

I said, “There is only one cherry Popsicle, and I want it.”

“But…. But…. I want the cherry Popsicle!”

“I bought the Popsicle! I should have it!” I argued.

“No! I want it!” she said.

Then our moms walked over. “What are you guys arguing about?”

“I want the cherry popsicle!” We said in unison.

“Jinx!” I called.

Daphne made a face and pouted, “Fine.”

“Yay!” I cheered.

But I let her eat half of my cherry Popsicle and she let me eat half of her lemonade Popsicle.

GONE We left Myrtle Beach in the morning. We said goodbye to the magical squawking seagulls and the blanket fort sheets that were cleaned up and put back in the closet. We said goodbye to the golden, soft, yellow sand and the crashing and roaring waves. We said goodbye to each other, promising to see each other every year or so.

Then, we packed up everything in the car. The shovels, the blankets, the pails, everything went into our cars.

We never bought any souvenirs, not that I remember of.

This memory has always been important to me because it was basically the closest memory I have remembered, other than my sleepovers. Daphne’s like a sister to me, and will always be.

Daphne and I see each other once or twice a year sometimes, but we email or text each other almost every day.

We’re still best friends and well, I think we will always be.

All words are the same Connor Brody If you are black If you are white Green, red, or yellow The words that come from your mouth Are all the same as mine If I say racism is horrific Will you know if I am black?

If I am white Blue, orange, or pink Nobody will know Never judge a book by its cover Never judge a human by his/her skin tone Never judge a human by his/her religion Until you meet someone Don’t judge them Even then reserve judgment Whether you are Black or white Any color of the rainbow Words from my mouth sound the same as from any other And hurt as much no matter the origin of the speaker

The Girl Who Everyone Knows MaryKate Englehardt The girl who everyone knows An unbelievable goddess of show Witty, sharp as a tack Words of Strong Fact The girl who everyone knows.

The girl who everyone sees On the outside like birds and bees, Trying to get inside No one sees what she hides The girl who everyone sees.

The girl who no one doubts Looking to figure her out Protected past falls Iron gates, titanium walls The girl who no one doubts.

The girl who everyone used to know Finally gave in to the tears and snow Eyes forever closed The finale to her once lively show, The girl who everyone used to know.

The one lucky girl who was saved By opening the door to her cage Limbs no longer twisted and bent To live the beautiful life she was meant; The one, lucky girl, who was saved.

Where the Yellow Rock Stands Cate Pitterle Where the yellow rock stands A bombsite, a shell Of the stories that this land used to tell.

When the green leaves and the red trees Used to dig their roots in and branch to the sky This was the land where the yellow rock stands.

A mournful birdcall in an evening canyon, Echoes of the Promised Land that used to be Where the wind once blew straight and free Yet now dips and swerves in an urge to flee.

The day was sheltered by a rich canopy, But now is little more than barren earth.

This is the place where the yellow rock stands.

And the people below, in their wooden huts by the trees, The red and gold and green and brown trees, With their fires glowing warm as the night's glowing moon, Were doomed to cruel hand of twisted typhoon.

The rain and the wind destroyed what once stood In the place where the yellow rock stands.

The wind took the sand from the sea, Though the place was not just filled with empty air and a boulder, But the undying memories and the hope of a morning That maybe, just maybe, something will grow In the place where the yellow rock stands.

Injustice Mackenzie Newnam I am lost at sea.

An ocean of injustice torments me.

It yells indignities and calls me names.

Waves hold me down. All the hurt, all the pain.

Years of being judged for the color of my skin, Being told I am worthless, like I am a sin.

I have no control over what becomes of my life.

I can't breathe anymore, I am living in strife.

The waves are like nails tearing at my seams.

The water is heavy and it drowns my dreams.

The dream to be equal and to be a free man.

But I'm tossed in their ocean and can't find my land.

I reach for the surface, but I can't find the light.

Nobody can, unless they are white.

I am lost in a white man's ocean.

Excerpts from Bob the Marshmallow Zach Wiebe Series One Book One One day Bob the marsh-mellow was taken from his home (Marshmallow Land) and friends. This was because a mysterious wrinkled surface with five points sticking out of it grabbed him, and brought him to a cave far away from home. Now, Bob had heard about things like this before but never realized how scary it was. He was thinking about this when a powerful sucking force pushed him to the back of the cave where there was a pit that went straight down. The force was so strong that it made him fall down. To his surprise he just went flowing gently down through the middle of the tunnel. After a while he fell asleep. When he woke up he heard a loud thumping noise (which is what woke him up), and he was floating right towards it.

Super Bob and Willy the Super Waffle One day Bob came across a waffle called Willy. Willy bought some super power juice and gave some to Bob. Bob bought capes for them.

They drank the juice. “Hey”, Bob said. “Let's try our powers”. They started walking toward a cliff, not looking at the ground because whatever they looked at started burning. When they should have reached the edge of the cliff, they looked down. They were standing in midair off the cliff. Also in their minds they were thinking about going home, suddenly they were at Bob's house.

“We better get to work on making my house the super-lair”, Bob said. Suddenly his house was the super-lair.

“Cool”, He said, “So far we have laser-eyes, we can fly, we can teleport, and we can make things appear out of nowhere.

Three days later when Willy was reading the news he said, “Hey Bob, there's a monster at the core of the Earth that is making the core bigger to melt the Earth.

So they set off. They started digging a tunnel with their laser-eyes pointing down. Once they reached the mantle they had to make a jack-hammer and keep going.

“Let’s head back”, Bob said, “It's getting dark”. So they teleported back to the super-lair and slept.

The next morning they went to their hole and jumped in. When they almost hit the ground they flew up to slow themselves down. Then they started digging again. When it got dark they flew back up and went to bed. After that they kept repeating this process for the next month.

After a month when they were digging Willy asked “Shouldn’t we have reached the core by now?” Just then they broke through to the other side of the world. Then they jumped down, and when they reached the middle (a big room) they started fighting the monster that was the core.

When the monster was trying to get Bob and Willy, Bob kicked him, but his flying and teleporting powers disappeared. Then Willy punched him, which knocked the monster out, but he lost his making anything and laser eyes powers.

Then Bob made two pairs of gloves and two pairs of boots for them to put on (their laser eyes wouldn’t help because they would only make it hotter, it was already the core). Then they both pushed him into the hole they had come out of. It crashed on the bottom. Then Willy carried Bob back up to their house and they lived happily ever after.

Prejudice Aditya Surana The man at the end of the street He was an old man, with a grim look on his face He rarely left the bench He sat during the storms During the hot desert sun, And during the frigid nights All he did was feed birds No one visited him He had no family He was all alone, except his birds Rumors and stories about him flew around, As if he were some old myth or legend They say he can hold his breath for hours They say he is from a different time Is this true? I ask myself, Considering no one has ever dared speak to him I was curious I wanted to know So I sat, And met the man at the end of the street

Zory Sasha Kostenko “Zory, time for School! You don’t want to miss it again, do you?”

I shrug nonchalantly, tossing one foot over the other and flicking through pictures on my PhoneRex 3. Its sleek, glowing screen shimmers under my touch as the images replace each other one after the other. Nothing’s good. I drop the contraption to the floor in annoyance and lean against the back of the seat, glaring at the lobby door into the School.

“Do I have to today?” I snap in annoyance, swinging my headphones around in circles and listening to the whoosh of them moving through the air.

“Zory, get in here right now!”

Rolling my eyes, I trudge across the crisp white room past the Assignment Board, where our Units are listed on the plasma screen in perfect little rows. I scan down the row of names and find mine – Zory Juliens. Next to it is a traditional image of an atom representing Molecular and Atomic Studies and next to it “Unit 1 – The Periodic Tables of Past and Present: A Full History.” Great – full histories always leave me with a slight head-ache for the rest of the day from the sudden data intake.

“Zory!”

“For goodness’s sake, Jessy!” I snort. “I’m coming, okay? Just because you’re my Supervisor of the day doesn’t make you my king or queen, you idiot.” I squint through the tinted glass at the sleek face of the Cyborg standing before the door.

Jessy stands her ground, bright blue eyes staring me down as I push open the door and enter the long Lesson Hallway.

“You are my assignment,” she says in a low voice as I walk past her. “It’s my job to care of you. Do you want me to be deactivated?”

I slow down, feeling suddenly terrible.

“Sorry, no,” I attempt an apology, the words feeling strange and foreign on my lips. “I was kidding, Jessy.”

Jessy’s eyes flash white for a few seconds as her internal computer goes overdrive, but then return to their normal state of blue as she appears to calm down.

“Okay,” she says simply, and moves in front of me down the hall. We arrive in front of Room 113, one of the two rooms that teach Molecular and Atomic Studies. Jessy keeps her eyes down as I walk hurriedly past her, eager to get the lesson over with so that I can go back home and play some Surround Games. “I’ll wait out here,” she says before shutting the door behind me. I feel a hint of unease – she’s actually been upset for the last few days, and I still don’t understand why. I shake off the feeling quickly.

I turn with practiced ease to the complex-looking but simple to work machine in front of me, dubbed the DataTron 5, which consists of mostly one enormous plasma screen. I select my lesson and swipe across the screen to confirm my choice. I’ve been told once that some 100 years ago, people still had to sit in classes in what were called “grades” and absorb information organically. I shudder at the idea. Thankfully, now we can mechanically download information directly to the nerves of our brain as electrical impulses – this process repeats for several minutes at an intense level, allowing brain dendrites to grow at miraculous speeds. Unfortunately, this is very exhausting and so requires half an hour to an hour of sleep for a so-called “reboot” (a nice addition, since I remain sludgy and exhausted each morning until this nap).

I clip myself into the immobilizing harness and put on the Nerve Helmet, an ingenious invention that I can instantly remember as made by Regan Mexicon in 2178. I snap together the chin strap and lean back into the simple, stiff-backed chair sitting among the blinking lights and the steadily-glowing buttons. I settle down and press the Immobilizing Start Button.

My vision blurs as the usual sudden intake of data, images, and scenes flood my mind. I can feel the tension associating with learning a full history build up in my head – then, something goes wrong.

I feel a surge of panic as the scenes suddenly disappear, my vision goes dark, and everything falls silent. Then, I feel nothing at all. My name is Jessy Axwell. You listen to me now.