Literary Savannah

Dedication

Volume One of the Literary Savannah Journal is dedicated to James Pruitt Oliver 1999-2023

“The reality of death has come upon us...has broken our complacency like a bullet in the side. A sense of the dramatic, of the tragic, of the infinite, has descended upon us, filling us with grief, but even above grief, wonder.”

- Flannery O’Connor

The Innagural Literary Savannah Class of 2024 and Mrs. Floyd would also like to thank the following individuals and organizations for their endless support and guidance in our exploration of Savannah’s literary legacy:

Jacqueline Smith ~ Janie Bragg

Jessica Duthu ~ Shannon Scott

Corey Heyward ~ Clay Johnson

Jewell Anderson ~ Campbell Sullivan

Nell Durland ~ Caroline Clements

Michaela Shank ~ William Mark McCullough

Holly Kalbach ~ E. Shaver’s Booksellers

Clary’s Cafe ~ Mercer-Williams House Museum

Christine Hefner ~ Huc-A-Poo’s

...and all our incredible friends, family, faculty, and fellow Savannahians who are far too numerous to list here.

Table of Contents

Rooster Bing

Contributor Bio 1

Move In Day 2

Show Day 3

Hayden Anderson

Contributor Bio 12

Aiken Imitation 13

Mossed Over 13

Rohan Patel

Contributor Bio 15

Reunited by Hope 16

The Unawakened City 23

Lincoln Kraeuter

Contributor Bio 28

The Waking 29 Strife 34

Laura Cay

Contributor Bio 35

Ode to a Car Ride Through Savannah 36 Graveyard 36

Mary Sheehan

Contributor Bio 38

The Marsh Girl 39

An Ode to SCDS 45

Sophie Jaakkola

Contributor Bio 46

Clean Up on Aisle Seven 47

The Love of a Wayward Sailor 53

Stella Wynn Bio 59

Magnolia’s River 60 Come In...If You Dare 67

Blake Culbreth Bio 70 Anna 71

Savannah’sMouthwateri ng Fare 78

Dalton Brown Bio 79

Stone Cold Killers 80

Don’t Let the Bedbugs Bite 87

Wesley Hooker Bio 90 The Writings On the Walls 91 The Beautiful Sport 97

Robert Spaulding IV Bio 98

Sincere Thoughts 99 Distressed Sleep 101

Kurt Kelly Bio 102

Savannah Acrostic Poem 103

Tourist Stop Review 105

Charlie Bernstein Bio 106

A Nightmares Awakening 107 Greed Turns Glory 111

Oliver Byrne Bio 115

Forsyth Park 116 Not God I Fear 118

Helen Kenney Bio 122 Isle of Burnt Pot 123 Acrostic 128

Cora Garola Bio 129 Ode to Savannah 130

Editor’s Letter

From our very first class, it has been an absolute joy to delve into the rich tapestry of Savannah's literarylandscapealongsidesuchan enthusiastic and dedicated group of students. Together, we have traversed the cobblestone streets of this historic city, not merely as tourists, but as eager explorers seeking to uncover the hidden gems nestled within its pages. From the haunting tales of Flannery O'Connortothesoul-stirringpoetry of Conrad Aiken, each week has been a new adventure, filled with laughter, insight, and a deep appreciation for the written word. Whether we were dissecting the symbolism in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil or immersing ourselves in the haunting history of our city, your passion for literature has been both inspiringandinfectious.Butbeyond theconfinesofourclassroomwalls,

it has been the moments shared outside of academia that have truly left an indelible mark on my heart. From impromptu bookshop visits to spirited debates over pancakes at Clary’s, I have cherished every opportunity to connect with you. As we bid farewell to this chapter of our literary journey, I am filled with a profound sense of gratitude for the memories we have created together. Know that each of you holds a special place in my heart, and I am immensely proud of the growth and exploration you have undertaken throughout our time together. So, as you venture forth into the world beyond our classroom, remember to keep the spirit of Literary Savannah alive in your hearts. Let the lessons we have learned together serve as guiding lights on your own literary odysseys, and may the stories of Savannah continue to inspire and captivate you for years to come.

_Mrs.Floyd

Rooster Bing

Born and raised in Savannah, GA, Rooster Bing was taught the importance of prayer, academics, and maintaining respect for himself and others. Rooster Bing is a senior at The Savannah Country Day School and has attended for six years. Rooster will be continuing his academics and football career at Morehouse College. At Morehouse, he plans on improving his technique and skills with not only football but with his Major in Computer Science. Outside of school, Rooster enjoys spending time with his family, creating pots, and working out. Rooster would like to thank Mrs. Floyd for helping him become a better writer and increasing his knowledge of Literature in Savannah, Ga.

Move-in Day

by Rooster Bing

The intimidating Home Depot box stared deep into Jerry's soul as it waited for him to pick it up.

“Are you going to sit there and watch it all morning?” Jerry's father asked.

Jerry ignored him and continued the staring contest with the overloaded box.

“You're about to go to college and you're nervous about a raggedy Home Depot box full of your junk”, Jerry’s pops said.

Jerry's mom was still in the house crying while holding old blankets and clothing Jerry wore when he was little.

Jerry yelled through the front door, “Come on momma, we’re going to be late”.

The campus was rough, with a great number of homeless people walking the streets. Jerry was used to it because his family weren’t the wealthiest people in his childhood neighborhood. His mom loved coming to Georgia because of Waffle House and Carey Hilliards. As they got closer to the dorms, Jerry's eardrums were destroyed by college senior mentors as they welcomed the freshmen. They were like an alarm on his phone that never stopped alarming. The tiger mascot froze with a dark look. Suddenly a cold shiver hit Jerry's body, but it was buggy and ninety-eight degrees outside. Jerry and his pops carried the boxes up the never-ending stairs, while his mom told him how he would be a great tiger at Savannah State University. As they approached the door, Jerry started to feel like something was wrong. His stomach started to bubble and his ears started ringing. Jerry felt like Spider-Man whenever Peter Parker gets spider senses, but instead with his stomach.

“This place is giving me bad vibes,” Jerry said.

His parents looked at him and shook their heads as they walked into the room. Jerry's dorm room was small with candy wrappers spread across the floor. The bed frame looked like it was for a child-size mattress and the roof seemed like heavy weights were pulling it down.There were different colored lines going in every direction on the walls, which made the room look like an abandoned daycare. All of the

sudden, there was a loud banging on the door, so Jerry opened it and noticed a short woman was wearing a Pirates House shirt.

The lady looked like she just left work because her shirt was covered with white flour handprints.

“Welcome, how is your day going so far?” asked the woman.

“Good, but it seems like a child had a play day in my room,” said Jerry.

“This room was closed for a while, but we have more students this year, so we decided to open up some of our abandoned rooms,” said the woman.

“What is there to eat around here?” asked Jerry.

“We are not far from downtown and I work at Pirates House, so if you ever want great southern food, buffet style, then just stop by,” said the woman.

“That's good to know, thank you,” said Jerry.

“No problem, I'm going to go now, I'm starting to get a little cold,” said the woman as she walked away.

The first box Jerry unpacked was his PlayStation Five, so he plugged it up and started playing.

Jerry told his parents, “Well, I’m going to continue playing some Call of Duty as y’all unpack for me.”

Jerry's parents looked at each other and laughed.

“There is a nice barbecue place down the street that is calling my name,” said his pops.

“What about unpacking?” Jerry asked.

“Son, you're a man now in this crazy world and your first lesson is that people will leave you to get what they want,” said Jerry's mom.

“We love you! Call us when you need us, but give us a couple of months before that call,”said Jerry's pops as they left.

Jerry continued to play his game, but his spidey senses were still active. The double doors to the closet were very dusty and beat up. While putting up his shoes and clothes in the closet, Jerry noticed a small hole in the bottom corner of the wall. Something in his head was telling him to put his hand through the hole and it was hard to resist. Something pulled him towards the hole and a

cold voice whispered in his ear. As he reached into the hole, a tiny cold hand grabbed him. Jerry tried to pull his hand away, but this tiny hand was latched tight. The whispers had soft and scratchy voices that sounded gibberish. Jerry felt cold spit drops, touch his face as the whispers continued to speak. The unknown voices turned into screams that were wining and calling for help. It sounded like multiple people wanted to say something to him at once. The air grew colder as the voices got louder and the lights started flickering. The whispers turned into mournful sobs that flowed from the closet.

“Help us,” said the cold voice.

Jerry blinked and suddenly it was dark. He looked around and the room was completely black. The only visible thing was the hole. Jerry looked into the hole and saw his hand being grabbed by a small and soft blue hand. Jerry moved and peeked his right eye through the hole as he saw a skinny blue arm but he couldn’t see beyond the blue arm. Jerry noticed that the arm had the same colored lines that were on the walls in his room. Jerry tried to yell for help, but no sound came out. A small giggle froze Jerry's body as fear hit his soul. He tried to speak, but couldn’t. The invisible giggles began to get louder as a dark blue beat-up face slowly came out of the dark with a frightening and sinister smile. The face had many holes and black lines descending on its face.

“Thank you,” the cold voice said. The face slowly went towards the dark as the blue hand let go of Jerry's hand.

“Hey Jerry, I forgot my keys,” said Jerry’s mom. Jerry tried to look for his mother through her voice, but everything was pitch black. Suddenly Jerry heard keys being moved across the darkness.

“Thank you, baby, I love you,” said Jerry's mom.

“I love you too momma,” the voice said. .

Show Day

By Rooster Bing

Every day the door to Barnard's room slowly opened up with long fingers clinching the door. A head poked out every time and Barnard's father would stand there telling him to go brush his teeth and get ready for school. Barnard wasn’t a morning person so he needed his father to wake him up. Barnard never liked to brush his teeth before breakfast because he didn’t like the aftertaste of drinking orange juice and having toothpaste in his mouth.

Barnard attended Isle of Hope Middle School in Savannah, Ga. He grew up on Barnard Street in Savannah and received his name from his parents David Phil and Sara Phil. His school was far from his house but his friends in the neighborhood went to the school, so he fit in at school pretty well. Barnard never hung out with his friends because they always went downtown to fancy restaurants like Vics and Ruth's Chris Steakhouse even though they didn’t have much money. His friends loved coming to his house because it was the biggest and had beautiful blue paint. People in the neighborhood believed that the color blue on homes gave good luck and protected homes from evil spirits. Barnard's dad left a letter from the school talking about the big show coming up. The biggest day of Barnard's life was August 13th, 2015, when he was going to perform at the talent show. The show was so big every year that most of the stores in the town would close for the day because everyone would go see the show. Attending the dance is a family tradition in the Phil family.Barnard loved to wear jean shorts that were so long, the bottom would touch his ankles. He packed some clothes the day of the show so he would not have to go home and change. Barnard's father Mark dropped him off at school daily and told him, “I love you, son, have a great day, and be positive and kind towards others.” Barnard always had a packed lunch with a plain turkey sandwich and a peach. Barnard always stayed humble even when he saw the other kids' parents bring them Sand Fly Barbeque or Zaxby’s.

After school, Barnard headed towards the back of the stage where he got dressed with his friends and headed towards the math class where they practiced before the show. He put on his baggy blue jeans and an oversized white tee with a fake chain he got from Amazon. He didn’t like the room because it smelt like a wet dog with terrible breath. The lights were too bright and the kids who didn't believe in deodorant were always in there being teacher's pets. Barnard finished up his practice dance routine and ran towards the stage.

“Next up is Barnard Phil,” the Principal said. Barnard walked out as the crowd clapped. The crowd's clapping was so powerful it pushed him back like a muscular varsity five-star linebacker hits a not-so-good JV running back. His hands started shaking as he looked into the dark cloud covering the crowd. He could not see anyone because of how bright the lights were shining on him, but he knew there were a large number of people because of the applause. He felt so nervous that he started to look for his parents. He looked to the left, the right, up, and down but could not find his parents. The crowd was so quiet you could hear some people in the back of the stage sneeze and cough. The speakers started blasting with “Watch Me Whip” by Silento, and Barnard stood there confused about where his parents were. He ran off stage after getting boos from the crowd. He ran towards the art room and shut the door. In the art room, he started to cry because he felt foolish and embarrassed. He pulled out his iPhone 6 to call his father first, but he didn’t answer. After twenty-one calls he realized his father wasn’t going to answer. As he tried to call his mother, he heard loud sirens passing by the school and moving fast. He sprinted towards the window where he looked outside, but all he could see were red and blue lights going down the street. There was an oak tree blocking the view of where the sirens and lights were headed. Loud footsteps started approaching the art door and Barnard got nervous. The door slowly opened and his grandmother, Myra, peeked through to find Barnard sitting by the window.

Grandma Myra said, “Come let's get you something to eat.”

Barnard said, “Where are my parents?”

“Oh, they told me to tell you they can’t make it because they were having car trouble and are at the car shop on Habersham,” said Grandma Myra.

Barnard said, “What about the Show?”

Myra said, “Ah don't worry about it, shows are overrated.”

Barnard's grandma loved cigarettes and would get them from the smoke shop on Abercorn Street. Barnard hated being in his grandma's van because she smoked so much that the car had a bad smell glued to it. Grandma Myra always kept a falcon's hat on the dashboard because she was a huge fan just like Barnard. Barnard weirdly smelt his mother's perfume in his grandma's van. It was also strange to Barnard because his mother always talked about how she never would ride in Grandma Myra's car until she stopped smoking. It was so strong that he smelt it over the cigars, but wasn’t worried about it because he was so focused on the hotdogs he was about to receive. Sam’s Club was very empty with no more than four cars in the parking lot. The parking lot was very dark and the only visible sign was the Sam's Club sign at the front of the store. Barnard and his grandmother walked inside and went straight toward the food court section. His grandmother ordered four hotdogs and two slushies. Barnard's grandma pulled out a card identical to her father's from her purse. It even had the same wet stains on it just like Barnard's dad's. Barnard's dad's card had wet stains on it because he always forgets to take it out of his pocket on laundry day. Grandma Myra ordered her and Barnard a hotdog and slushie but bought two extra to take home. As Barnard grabbed the food he noticed that his Grandmother's phone kept ringing and lighting up. He knew not to ask her about it because his grandmother always cussed him out when he started to be nosy.

His grandmother always said, “The more you poke your nose in people's business, the less time you have to improve yourself”. Barnard never listened to what she said because she was always

grumpy trying to give advice without taking her own. They both sat down and started to eat their food. “Grandma, this slushie is really good,” said Barnard.

His grandmother didn’t respond and proceeded to eat her hotdog. Barnard started getting worried because he noticed his grandmother had not made eye contact with him ever since they left the school.

His grandma whispered, “It's all my fault, baby”. Grandma Myra started to smile so hard it made multiple veins pop out of not only her forehead but her whole face.

Barnard looked at her in confusion as she started slowly laughing louder and louder. Barnard's phone started lighting up and vibrating in his pocket. He looked at his phone and read a text from a group chat with some friends that said, “I'm sorry man, I'm so sorry.” Barnard looked up and his grandma was gone. Barnard looked around the food court as he cried looking for his grandma, but she was not in sight. He ran towards the front of the store to look outside and did not see his grandmother's van anywhere. Barnard remembered that his father always said to go home if ever in trouble, so he called an Uber to his house. The Uber arrived very quickly. It was a black SUV with huge rims. Barnard got in and headed towards his house. The driver had a candy kitchen shirt and a candy kitchen hat on. He was starving because he kept on eating pralines and caramel popcorn. He then looked at his phone and started typing in the address to Google Maps.

“I can’t get you directly in front of your house because it says the roads are blocked off,” said the driver.

Barnard knew something wasn’t right because he knew there wasn’t any construction going on, so he thought that the driver just wanted to drop him off and get home because it looked like he just got off work. The Driver dropped him off on the corner of his street in front of the Liquor store. Barnard never liked the store because outside there were sketchy tall men who would drink with bags on their drinks and stare at people who walked by with their red eyes.

“Have a nice night young man,” said the Driver. Barnard got out and started walking towards his house. Barnard looked at his maps and it told him he was a mile away from his home. He looked up in confusion because his house was only half a mile from the liquor store.As he approached his house, he saw a lot of smoke and a lot of blue and red lights. There were orange cones and cops blocking every corner, so it was hard to get to his house.

His house wasn’t the bright blue he saw before leaving his house. Barnard moved some of the cones so others could get through to park their cars in front of their houses. He followed the cars onto the blocked-off road and saw two long black bags being rolled slowly out of his house. One of the body bags was opened before being pushed into the ambulance. A short person with all white and huge goggles started scraping the face of the body. The person with the goggles put the skin in a small bag. Barnard saw a disturbing burned face he didn’t recognize at all. It was very dark, with a missing nose, lips, and only a right ear. He stood there in shock as he started to notice the length of the bags matched his parent's height. One of the first responders put a tag on the black bag that said, “ David Phil.” Barnard's body started feeling like he was being pulled down by loads of weights chained to his body that were full of pain.

Before he could even fall to the ground, an officer approached him and said, “Are you Barnard?”

Barnard didn’t respond because he was still getting pulled down by the dark weights. Tears ran down his face, but his face stayed very quiet. He was screaming and crying on the inside, but still on the outside. A detective then grabbed Barnard by the arm and dragged him into a black van where there were more officers. There were many lights and buttons around the van looking like a futuristic ship. There were five officers and they all had suits that Barnard had never seen before with shiny badges that blinded his eyes.

“My name is Detective Logan, how are you doing tonight?” said the detective.

“We have witnesses saying they saw a woman coming out of the house before the fire,” said Detective Logan.

One of the officers then showed Barnard a black-and-white picture of a suspect they were looking for. The photo was very dull and hard to see. There was a woman in the photo who was walking out of Barnard's house with a black dress and a Falcons hat.

“We believe that you know this person and might be able to help us find her,” said another officer.

As Barnard looked at the photo his eyes opened up really wide as he realized who the woman was.

Hayden Anderson

Hayden Anderson has been at Savannah Country Day School since her freshman year of high school. In her time at Country Day, she has been a part of the flag football, soccer, and volleyball teams. Outside of school, she loves to do community service and go to Young Life with her friends. After graduation, she plans to go to The University of South Carolina in the fall and is majoring in Sports and Entertainment Management. After college, Hayden wants to live in Charleston with a dog and work in the sports industry.

Aiken Imitation

By Hayden Anderson

The wind beside me blows its fumes

The birds behind me chirp their song The trees above me whistle their tunes The world around me sings along I sing with them as we are all mortal I hum their words as if they were mine Beholding to me this eternal portal I wish to a star for only more time

Mossed Over

By Hayden Anderson

To the delicately hung spanish moss, Amidst the oaks, you swiftly straddle the branches, Spanish moss, ethereal and grand and charming, You dance with the wind, a breath of fresh air.

Drifting in the breeze, swaying with the trees, Fluttering its coils, whispering your secrets to those below, Like wistful memories, slowly seeping somewhere afar, A melancholy beauty, you effortlessly display,

With each tumultuous swing, time seems to halt, You are a tapestry woven by nature's gentle fingers, In your delicate strands, the square’s secrets held close, Softly singing confessions on a moonlit night.

Oh, Spanish moss, in wisdom's disguise, Acoustic shadows that linger and lie, Within your simple aura, a haunting history, A sadness serenading for twilight’s song.

Rohan Patel

Although Rohan is not a Savannah native, he has spent most of his life living near Savannah’s vast culture. When Rohan is not trying to fail his classes before graduation, he spends his time with his two dogs Buster and Bentley. Rohan will be attending Georgia Tech in the fall, where he’ll be majoring in Business. Rohan’s main plan as of right now is to retire at the young age of forty and buy a big piece of land to raise a bunch of dogs. Despite his ambitious plans, he eventually wants to return to Savannah to live the rest of his life.

Reunited by Hope

By Rohan Patel

The wind brushed the autumn leaves from the colorless trees against his muddy sneakers, as he surveyed the compound. As he looked around, he began to remember all of the decisions that led to this specific moment. He noticed the mud he walked on was once a park filled with greenery. He looked up from the ground and saw the old fountain in the park. What was once a fountain symbolizing the city’s wealth and prosperity quickly became a reminder of the time that has passed since then. The water was completely dried out, but the dirt and leaves made sure that the fountain was always full. As he walked along feeling the cold breeze of the Savannah night from the holes in his tattered clothes, he heard a sound behind him. He quickly turned around, but nothing was there. He knew it couldn't be the unliving since this park had been their “home” for years. It was a loud, prolonged, deep, voice coming from the direction of the ports. He didn't think much of it and kept walking through the opaque, dark, blurry night. A little later into his walk around the former park, he heard a rustling behind him, and without hesitation, he quickly turned around and saw Monica and his dog, Teddy, approaching him.

“Jeremy, Ain't it a little late to be walking around alone?” Monica said in a concerned yet upbeat tone.

Jeremy took a second, and replied, “Not too much of a risk, there’s an eight-foot brick wall between me and them.”

Monica smirked, and said in her sarcastic tone, “Alright, don’t come back and complain when you’re infected.” Jeremy nodded and continued walking but this time with his eight-year-old golden retriever, Teddy.

Jeremy remembers how he found Teddy. In the chaos that followed the events in Savannah, Jeremy saw Teddy as a puppy outside the famous ice cream shop, “Leopold's Ice Cream,” and quickly picked him up since his owners were nowhere to be seen.

Besides his few remaining classmates from his regretful class trip to Savannah, Teddy was the only friend he had with him. During Jeremy’s late-night walk and even before he went to sleep, he kept thinking about what the sound he heard earlier could have been. The sound made him imagine a big container ship docking in Savannah, and he began to fantasize about how he and his friends could all escape and finally go home.

After a restless night of sleep, Jeremy decided to ask around and see if anyone else heard a sound. To his surprise, people either said, “I was asleep” or a concerned, “No.” As he walked around the compound looking for more people to ask about the sound, he heard it again. This time it was much louder. Seconds later the wind felt still as if all of time had paused. He looked at Teddy and knew this was real. He ran to Monica and Alfred who were a couple of hundred feet behind him keeping guard near the closedoff entrance.

Jeremy blurted out, “Y’all heard that right? The deep sound from near River Street?” Monica and Alfred looked back at him with concern. Jeremy took a second to catch his breath and said, “It sounded just like a container ship!”

Alfred responded, “We didn't hear anything.” and added, “Are you okay? you look tired.”

Jeremy angrily and hastily replied, “I’m fine! But we have to tell people about that ship! We could finally escape this cursed city and go home to civilization!”

In a much calmer voice, Monica responded, “Jeremy, even if you are right, nothing will change. Whether you like it or not, this is the world we live in.”

Jeremy grew frustrated and clenched his fist and retorted, “The world is fine! Life has moved on, but Savannah hasn't. Don't y'all get it? We should leave while we can.”

Alfred swiftly said, “Even if there is a boat in the port, there is no guarantee what lies ahead for us. We have a decent living here, and nobody has died in five years!” Jeremy stormed off in anger because of his friends' lack of vision.

His tears were being dragged off his face while he walked against the strong autumn wind.

After an entire day of trying to convince people that there was a boat waiting in the port, the only one who loyally stood behind him was Teddy. At the time of nightfall when the sun fell under the old and green Savannah bridge, Jeremy gave up. Nobody else believed him that he heard a boat near the ports. His last sliver of hope, like the city he was cursed to, slowly decayed until there was nothing. All Jeremy wanted was to go back to the simpler times with his family in Charleston. Every night he yearns to be reunited with them, and to finally continue his normal life. Instead, his current life consists of looting a once majestic and royal city down to its bare bones and fending off the undead.

Jeremy awoke from his own thoughts when Alfred tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Don't forget you’re on lookout today.” The 3 a.m. breeze kept Jeremy from falling asleep on the watchtower, however, Teddy was fast asleep. From the north watch tower, he could see so much more of the city. He could see Monterey Square at the end of Bull Street.

Along the sides of Bull Street, were the apartment-style buildings, yet none of them looked severely aged. Despite a few knocked-down trees, overgrown grass, and deteriorating buildings, Savannah more or less looked the same. As Jeremy was about to doze off into the night he heard the blaring, obnoxious sound again coming from the ports. He couldn't take the sound anymore, he would rather die trying to get back home than survive with no meaning. Without hesitation, Jeremy sprung up from his chair, put his pistol in his holster, and climbed down from the watchtower. He ran to the compound’s garage which had a few working cars left and began trying to start up the old, red, Volkswagen Buggy. After a minute of trying to start the car it started, and surprisingly it had a little less than a quarter tank of gas left. Jeremy loaded Teddy in the passenger seat and began to open the gate to the compound. Once the gate was fully opened, Jeremy took off down Bull Street and didn't look back.

In his own recklessness, Jeremy didn't even realize he left the gate open for the undead to enter the compound.

As he slowly drove down Bull Street, Jeremy’s heart beat faster than ever, and his hands and legs began to tremble, as he saw a few of the undead stumbling around. By the time he made it to Monterey Square, he started to compose himself. He realized he had nothing to worry about since he was in a car and River Street wasn't that far away. Looking out the window during his eightmile-per-hour drive, he saw the true destruction and chaos that happened all those years ago. The city looked like the immediate aftermath of a hurricane. There were smashed windows, flippedover cars, and frozen anarchy everywhere. Jeremy saw the old bookstore, “E Shavers” on his right and began to remember his class trip touring Savannah. He remembered the plenty of cats that would roam the store, and how a few blocks away was St. John’s Cathedral. He considered taking the scenic route, to relive memories, but he realized that he shouldn't waste time. The faster he got to the boat, the faster he could go home.

As Jeremy approached one of the most famous and luxurious streets in the whole city, his car came to a stuttering stop in the middle of the intersection. As he slowly took a deep breath filled with frustration, he looked around from inside the car. From left to right, he saw an abandoned city, with nothing but silence creeping all around him. After five minutes of waiting for the unliving to move farther away, Jeremy and Teddy got out of the car. Jeremy put Teddy in a backpack for dogs, so he wouldn't have to worry about Teddy running away. Teddy hardly struggled and once he was on Jeremy’s back, he looked relaxed with his tongue sticking out and a smile on his face. Jeremy continued his path of going up Bull Street, but this time much more stealthier. He would creep around corners, sneak through the streets, and be as silent as the night around him. Despite being in a post-apocalyptic world, there were hardly any of the dead around him.

Luckily for Jeremy, his natural camouflage of the night has kept him out of most of his trouble.

As Jeremy approached Johnson Square he decided to take a break. He sat down on one of the benches and took out a flask with water in it from his back pocket. He set Teddy in his backpack on the ground but didn't let him out just in case they had to make a quick escape. Despite the many years that have passed, the greenery of the park looks almost identical, and if anything, stronger than ever.

The grass is ever so slightly breaking apart the tiled bricks further and further, while the trees still have a mysterious, witchlike structure that only seems to grow in eeriness as the years pass. The harmless yet sinister nature that surrounds Savannah is one of the many fears Jeremy has had since being banished to this wasteland. Jeremy glanced at the dark purple sky and noticed that nightfall was coming to an end. Once the sun had risen he realized that his ability to blend in with the night would be completely gone. He quickly stood up, put Teddy back on his back, and continued his trek to River Street. However, just as Jeremy was about to start walking, he heard the sound again, this time much louder. The sound was deep in pitch but also had an abnormal lingering that sent chills down Jeremy’s back. Jeremy understood that he had to move quicker in order to not miss the boat.

Walking at a fast pace the only thing Jeremy allowed himself to see was what was in front of him. Directly in front of him, he saw the City Hall building. The effects of anarchy were displayed perfectly with its shattered windows, green vines hanging down, and torn American flag hanging from the top of the building. The sun was starting to peak its head above the buildings which created an orange glimmer effect across the entire city, which looked as if the buildings had caught flames. As he walked closer and closer to the building he realized that there were a lot more undead creatures following him. He pulled out his handgun from his holster and began to make a run for River Street.

With all other possible ways to River Street blocked by the undead, he ran to the left of City Hall and quickly came to a deadend. He saw the stone bricks of River Street laid centuries ago, and the brown murky water of the river, but was unable to get there. Between him and his ticket to freedom, was a twenty-foot drop with no ladder or stairs nearby.

With his heart pounding, pistol in hand, dog on his back, and the unliving slowly closing in on him, he froze. However, at that moment, Jeremy noticed an old electrical box that he could jump down to to minimize his fall. Without hesitation, he holstered his pistol and began to sprint, followed by a jump completely blinded by faith. He landed on the electrical box a second later, surprised that it didn't cave in on him. Since Jeremy jumped down, the hordes of the unliving had not caught up to him yet. Jeremy wasted no time and descended from the box and made a downward sprint towards the river. As he crossed River Street, he tripped on the old trolley tracks but was able to stop himself from falling down. However, as he stumbled to the river absolutely exhausted, and looked left to right for a boat, nothing was there. Jeremy could not comprehend what just happened and continued to look up and down the river for any sign of a boat. He looked at the water to see if waves had been created from boats, but saw nothing. Teddy began to bark, which was unusual for Teddy. When Jeremy turned around, he saw hordes of the undead all around him. Teddy began to bark louder and louder, but Jeremy was unresponsive to Teddy’s cry for help.

As Jeremy stood there in disbelief with his back to the river, he realized that all the sounds were in his head. The noise of potential freedom had disillusioned him into believing there was hope for more than just survival, but to live. All he could think of was his family, and how his dream of being reunited with them was shattered. Despite surviving in this city for eight years, and not being infected, his mind was slowly infected by himself. As the sounds of the hordes closed in on Jeremy, he once again fed into his delusion of seeing his family by raising his gun and squeezing the trigger.

The Unawakened City

By Rohan Patel

It was a bright and early morning in Savannah’s Colonial Park Cemetery. The sun caused the autumn trees to glisten with an orange flair. Our teacher told the twelve of us to sit on the deteriorated, rotting, wooden benches while she went to the bathroom across the street. I sat back on the bench, pulled my hoodie over my head, and began to doze off under the warm sun until I felt someone tap me on my shoulder. I thought it was my best friend Jeremy trying to annoy me but when I looked up I saw a girl not much older than us standing in front of the sun, shining in front of me. She had a SCAD shirt on, so I assumed she was a college student from around here. With a friendly smile and her blonde hair swaying in the wind, she asked me, “If you or any of your friends are interested, there’s gonna be a party here tonight.”

“Oh sorry, we are, uh, a high school class on a two-day field trip. We aren’t adults.” I responded nervously.

“Oh, that sucks, I didn't realize y’all were a bunch of babies. Where are y’all visiting from?” She responded in an upbeat yet condescending tone.

I defensively said, “We’re from Charleston, and we aren’t a bunch of babies. What time is this party anyway?” She took a second and replied, “Well, around 11 at night, y’all should just stop by for a bit, it’s just a bunch of college students. Well anyways, gotta go!” I stared in awe as she walked away, and in my mind, all I was thinking about was getting to that party.

At around eight at night, we made it back to the hotel after dinner. Luckily for us, our teachers were pretty chill and didn’t care if we left our hotel rooms, just as long as we didn’t leave the hotel. We were all playing UNO!, when I floated the question, “Anyone wanna party tonight? I heard there is a party at that cemetery we were at earlier today.”

Jeremy abruptly said, “Darrell hell no, are you crazy?”

I responded, “Maybe just a little bit.”

Jeremy responded sternly, “Do you really think it's a good idea to leave the hotel late at night and go to some party you heard about from some college girl at a cemetery.”

“I never said it was a good idea.” I quickly responded. Noticing the room got stale I shouted, “Raise your hand if you wanna go party!” Without any hesitation, Hazel, Landon, and Jake raised their hands.

It was ten minutes to eleven, and Hazel, Landon, and Jake were all waiting for me in the hotel lobby. Our hotel, the 17 Hundred 90, was less than a five-minute walk from the cemetery. As we walked through Downtown Savannah, with bricks sticking out the sidewalk, the lack of street lights illuminating what was ahead, and the mysterious trees that swayed from left to right, we realized how different the city looked at night. During the day, Savannah reminds me of a colonial town that has aged well throughout the centuries, but during the night, Savannah looks like a town stuck in the past. A ghost town lost in time, with no rules or order, as if it was slowly rotting away. When we finally made it to the cemetery, we all stood at the entrance and looked at each other. There were no lights, nobody around, and a cool breeze that sent chills up our spines. After a minute of waiting outside, we heard a faint drum sound.

We slowly entered the cemetery to see if we could see where it was coming from but we couldn’t see a thing. It looked like a decrepit cemetery at night, nothing out of the ordinary. We decided to split up into groups, Jake and Hazel would go inside to look around while Landon and I would wait at the entrance of the cemetery to see if anybody else was showing up to the party. We agreed that in ten minutes they’d return back, and if there was no party we’d go back to the hotel. Five minutes passed, and we still could hear the low-pitched, echoing, drumming sound, and I had no clue what that sound could be. Landon optimistically suspected that it could be the bass of a speaker from the party, but there were no signs of anyone. I looked around from the inside of the cemetery and noticed it felt like a prison for the dead.

The spiked metal fence, and the submerged stone houses which were made for families to lie in, gave a sense of confinement and restraint. Just as I was beginning to sit down on an old wooden bench, I heard a shriek. The high-pitched scream lingered in the air as if it were a cry for help, or someone’s prolonged suffering finally being put to an end. We immediately started running towards the sound, out of fear it was one of our own. As we ran faster toward the noises, we felt the wind push against us, and we noticed the ominous dark clouds beginning to cover the moon and the starry night as if it were a final warning to turn around.

As we approached the noise with caution, Landon and I hid behind an oak tree. We took a peek, and saw a circular bowl shape embedded in the ground, around the middle of the cemetery. In the middle of the stone bowl, there were cold lifeless bodies, but the one on top of the pile was Hazel’s. Her lifeless expression was able to capture her absolute fear in the moment of death, with her eyes forever staring into the sky.

From behind the shadows emerged seven hooded figures who were dragging out their next victim. As the cultists walked closer to the circle, we noticed that their latest victim was Jake. Jake let out cries for help and tried to free himself out of their hands but nothing was successful. Jake’s eyes were pouring with tears, as he noticed Hazel’s body in front of him, and he could only imagine his fate being no different from hers.

One of the hooded cultists drew out a knife and created a gash in Jake’s throat. In a matter of seconds, Jake’s suffering ceased. His body was thrown on top of the pile with the rest of the victims. As I looked at Landon in disbelief and terror, he began to melt down in tears and fell to the floor wrapped with guilt and agony. I tried to calm him down since we were in ear range of the cultists, but I knew it was too late. The cultists heard us and were in just as much of a shock as we were. I helped Landon to his feet so we could start running towards the hotel, but the cultists didn’t follow us. The seven hooded figures gathered around the circle, knives drawn, and began to stare at the pile of rotten corpses.

They all simultaneously looked into the storm clouds above them and began shouting a countdown from five. “FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE.” At the end of the countdown, all seven had slit their throats and dropped cold against the stone bricks. Landon and I looked at each other with confusion and skepticism. We looked closer and noticed that all the blood from the pile of bodies was being drained into a singular hole in the ground, the size of a golf ball. Landon tried to call the police but didn’t have cell service, so we began to cautiously walk toward the exit. It was hard to remember where the exit was; the graves and the gravel path were all the same monotone color, and the darkness of the night made us fearful that anything could surprise us on our way back.

After minutes of aimlessly wandering around in the dark, we recognized the path we were on and began sprinting towards the exit. However, as we ran, we noticed a rumble in the ground. The ground began to shake, and all of a sudden it was hard to keep ourselves from falling down. Gravestones began to fall, and submerged crypts began to cave in on themselves. Landon slipped, and as I reached my hand out to help him get up, he screamed, “HELP ME! SOMETHING IS

PULLING

ME!”

All around the cemetery, limbs began to appear out of the ground. I looked towards Landon and both his legs were being pulled by two sets of deformed arms from the ground. I tried to free him, but when I looked behind me, I noticed undead creatures emerging from their graves charging at us. I panicked and ran towards the exit, leaving Landon to fend for himself. As I exited the cemetery, I pushed back my tears and toned out Landon’s helpless screams from a couple hundred feet away. I took my phone out to try and call someone, but as I looked up from my phone to the world around me, I saw absolute anarchy. Cars were in flames, civilians were running, and police officers were trying to quell the undead’s rebellion. The undead had successfully retook their city, and as the screams of the tortured innocents surrounded me, all I could do was run.

I ran a few blocks up until I got to Oglethorpe Square, and all around me holes began to appear from the ground, from the centuries-old stone roads to the sidewalks to the luscious green squares of the parks, chaos consumed the night. I ducked down next to a recycling bin in the middle of the square and tried to call my mom. She didn’t answer, so I left my family group chat a text saying, “I love you forever.” Right before I put my phone away, Jeremy called me.

“Where are you? Are you okay? We are about to leave on a bus back to Charleston, hurry up! At most, you have a couple of minutes before we leave. Hello?! Darrell, are you there?”

The tears flowed from my eyes, and all I could say was, “I’m sorry” before hanging up the call. As I stood up, I saw the world I created. Gunshots, screams, and car crashes filled the streets as a result of my curiosity. Without me, my friends would have been safe. Without me, hundreds of thousands wouldn't have had to suffer. I rummaged through the recycling bin and found an empty beer glass bottle. I smashed it against the stone pathway, creating a sharp glass shard, and ceased my pain, letting myself die with my sins.

Lincoln Kraeuter

Lincoln Kraeuter has always lived in Savannah. While he isn’t busy at school with academics or sports, he enjoys spending time with his two dogs, Moose and Wish, and chilling with friends. He plans to attend the University of Alabama after graduation and major in Biology. Eventually, he plans to go to med school. After which he aims to become a dermatologist. His favorite school trip from this year was going to Tybee for their locational journalism unit.

The Waking

By Lincoln Kraeuter

Chips, hot dogs, and a six-pack of beer for my Sunday night barbeque was the perfect way to start the week. As I exited the grocery store through the sliding doors, carrying the three plastic bags, I looked up and appreciated the beautiful weather. There were no clouds in the sky, oak trees covered with Spanish moss swaying from side to side, and a blissful breeze against my face as I walked through the sliding doors of Kroger. As I got into the car and sat down, I immediately turned the AC on because of the hot leather seats. The smell of McDonald’s chicken nuggets lingered and I suddenly remembered that I forgot to buy an air freshener. I was too lazy to go back and buy it, so I turned the radio on and began driving home. A sudden static hit my ears as I turned onto Lincoln Street.

“Damn it this car is brand new but still doesn’t work!” I yelled in frustration, as I banged my fists against the radio. The static quickly fizzled away but was replaced by an eerie sound of metal scraping against metal. A mysterious voice pierced the eerie sound, “The time is now brothers and sisters, He is nearly upon us! Let us welcome our lord into his new world.”

I clenched the steering wheel out of frustration, and my knuckles turned white, as I screamed, “There is only one true fucking God!” I looked out my window to ease my mind and saw dark pastel clouds moving high above the soft marshmallow clusters that peppered the sky. The old Colonial Savannah’s tattered red bricks on the right clashed with the modern white concrete on my left. Suddenly I snapped back to reality and barely managed to slam the brake to avoid crashing into the car in front of me. My hands jittered as my car lurched back. A loud sound of metal hitting metal rang out in front of me. The cold air around me vanished as I opened my door to the heat and humidity of summer.

People started to gather on the red brick sidewalk. The other drivers got out of their cars to see what had happened. Just two cars in front of me, a car was t-boned. I quickly saw that there was glass everywhere, some stained with a dark maroon color.

The driver’s black car door was caved in and he was leaning on his dashboard with blood running down his face onto a weed that had managed to break through the asphalt.

“Shit, what do I do?” I asked myself.

My hands trembled as I reached for my phone to call 911. The phone rang for a few seconds but no one answered.

“What the heck is happening?” I exclaimed.

A few of the people who had gathered around tried to pry the caved-in door open and help the unconscious driver out of his car. Thunder echoed through the air and grabbed the crowd’s attention. A woman screamed and pointed up to the sky. The sky darkened to a tar color yet a soft remnant of sunlight lingered, which turned the old royal colony into a realm of darkness. My skin shivered as if it was the middle of winter. A few bystanders took out their phones to record what was happening, but as soon as they did, purple lightning struck around them, turning the brick sidewalk into a charcoal black. The sound of thunder rang out from around the city. I looked up seeing the sky light up with lightning back around me. My legs were as stiff as stone, I could not run away. A chorus of shrieks cried out against the thunder. The bystanders who had looked through their phone’s cameras crumpled to the ground. My legs were as stiff as stone, I could not run away. The air in my lungs became stagnant.

“Why god, why?!” screamed a woman holding her child. As if that was a magic chant, long appendages reached out from the sky. They reached for Savannah as if it had something that was taken from them long ago. The earth quaked as the first appendage smashed into the ground. My heart quivered as the boom roared throughout the city. My legs felt like limp noodles as they hit the concrete road. I ran to the only place I could feel safe in, God’s house.

“Why god, why?!” screamed a woman holding her child. As if that was a magic chant, long appendages reached out from the sky. They reached for Savannah as if it had something that was taken from them long ago. The earth quaked as the first appendage smashed into the ground. My heart quivered as the boom roared throughout the city. My legs felt like limp noodles as they hit the concrete road. I ran to the only place I could feel safe in, God’s house. The temple’s main door was only about sixty yards away. More appendages rained down from the sky. The old live oak trees in Lafayette Square were burning ablaze with purple fire. The embers brushed against my face, burning pecks into my cheek. Appendages landed right in the square. I ran up the gray concrete stairs. Each step makes it harder to breathe. The Temple door swung open. The Father and a handful of nuns urged me to get inside. I leaped through the doorway. The doors slammed shut. I landed on the cold stone floor wheezing the Father and a few nuns barricaded the door with chairs and a few tables. As I caught my breath the door started to bang. The oak door creaked with every blow. The Father ran to brace himself against the door.

“The altar!” yelled the Father, “It cannot reach it or everything is doomed!”

The nuns rushed to help me up. As soon as I could stand up alone, the sound of glass breaking echoed through the sanctuary. With every step, my legs ache in rebellion.

The appendage slowly closed in on the altar, in almost a taunting manner. The nuns ran past me trying to get to the altar before the appendage. The appendage rushed toward them to stop anyone from getting to the altar. The cathedral rumbled as more appendages reached through the stained glass windows scattered around the cathedral. The light dimmed as the altar started to crackle with sparks of purple lightning dropping to the floor. As the cruel sparks hit the cold wooden floors they evaporated into a pastel mist. I kept running, ignoring my body’s survival instinct to run. With every step, my heart cried. Seeing me, the appendage whipped the nuns against the wall as a child does when it is tired

of its toy. Racing back for what it had thought was safe. As the appendages reached for the altar, a scroll started to rise into the air. As it ascended a purple mist radiated from it. More purple sparks formed the closer it was to the texts. The scroll slowly unwinded. With every second my body cried, to run, anything to get away from the altar. As the scroll fully unwinded, a pleased shriek rang out from the sky and the purple mist on the ground rapidly spread. The mist rushed past me, consuming all until there was nothing. All of a sudden my feet stopped aching. Suddenly a mysterious figure shrieked “ He is here brothers and sisters! Let us worship the one true god who has answered our prayer! Let us be free from our mortal coil and live on forever!” The Father’s face came into view. It wore a disgusting grin. His smile reached the peaks of his ears. His eyes glowed a bright purple. He saw me and just stood there, his soulless gaze passed right through me. Then I couldn't feel anything.

“Strife”

By Lincoln Kraeuter

The Cold comes in waves of snow. The fire burns but yet I feel no heat. The warmth of life left me a while ago But why does my heart still beat?

Icy thorns pierce my lung With every breath, I yearn for warmth But still, my hand sprung Thoughts of death swarmed

Should I do it, to end my strife How will it feel to be free of life?

Laura Cay

Laura Cay lived in Atlanta until she was 15, but grew up coming to Savannah all the time. She loves reading and spending time with her three dogs and her friends, especially if they’re downtown or swimming in the river. After graduation she plans to go to New York University, spending her first year in Florence, Italy.

Ode to a car ride through Savannah

By Laura Cay

Passing houses scattering centuries

Cobblestone roads gently carrying me

Orange street lights replacing the setting sun,

Peeking through tree leaves onto park benches

Circling squares like a carousel

Tourists wander the streets like lost children

Lights above Broughton reflect off the windshield, Into my eyes observing passersby

My favorite haunted house,

Windows watching a world away

Branches twist with age and agony

Behind the window I stare wistfully

Graveyard

By Laura Cay

Empty footsteps echoing in a hollow breeze

The golden moon hangs lazily behind the oaks

Casting haunting shadows onto the brick

Saying hello to things that won’t answer

Silver glimmers against the stone

Flowers wilt over weeks

Moss lives in letters

One day my name will lie underneath the moon

For no one to recognize or miss

Except the looming, reaching trees above

And my ever-watching moon

Who shines on me even on the darkest nights

Mary Sheehan

Mary Sheehan was born in Savannah and has lived there on and off for 10 years. Mary will be attending Furman University in the fall, where she plans to major in journalism. Mary hopes to one day write for a major publication and live in the absolute middle of nowhere in South Carolina. Mary’s writing is deeply inspired by Southern Gothic writers such as Flannery O’Connor and Truman Capote. Mary hopes to marry rich, retire young, and spend all her money before she turns 70.

The Marsh Girl Mary Sheehan

The dark marsh mud hugged her feet, as she watched the rusted coin slowly sink beneath the water’s mirrored surface, taking her hopes and dreams of freedom right along with it. To be fair to the poor coin, her wish was heavy enough to weigh down the most stable of ships, much less a little penny. The wish for freedom from her father, from her dull husband-to-be, and from the society slowly crushing her lungs could not be granted, at least not by her one silly coin. She took one last deep inhale of the fragrant marsh mud, wrenched one foot after the other out of the soft clay, and crawled up onto the bank to begin her trek back to what she supposed she could consider her house, never to be mistaken for her home.

Grace was not the kind of girl that would ever be considered striking, but she supposed she was pretty enough. Because of her dirty blonde hair paired with her pale freckled complexion, it wasn’t unreasonable to believe her face would blend into a haze of beige if a person looked from too far away. Her less-than-exciting looks only enhanced the ever-looming feeling of being purely unremarkable, the feeling that casts a shadow over her every waking moment. However, if you looked closely enough, you could catch a glimpse of the treasure hidden on her freckled face, her icy blue eyes, the one notable part of her physicality. Now they say the eyes are the windows to the soul and that would certainly make sense for Grace, a strong contrast to her face, her mind was one of stories, she was witty, sarcastic, and possessed a certain maturity that was not accepted or allowed for the woman of the time. Grace was both completely unremarkable and totally exceptional all at the same time. After what felt like far too short of a walk, Grace arrived at the glass doors leading into the back of her house, looking utterly unkempt with the bottom of her white skirts dyed with the colors of the tides.

She quietly slipped inside, hair still wild from the caress of the winds, only for her face to ram right into the chest of the man that she was so artfully trying to avoid, Ernest.

Ernest was horrid. He was by all means an attractive man, with an “admirable” (at least according to Grace’s father) desire to be a leader in the political sphere of Savannah, Georgia.

Grace detested politicians, so in line with such, she detested her fiance. He was stiff, much like how one would imagine a tin man to move, his face unmarked by the sun (he found the outside to be a completely unnecessary place), and a nose upturned from years of snobbery and what he believed to be highly intellectual thoughts. Ernest was who Grace considered the antagonist of the 18-year-long story of her unremarkable life.

“Well, you are just the lost little bird I have been searching for, Good lord what has happened to you?” Grace hated being called a “little bird”, it was infantilizing.

“I was simply taking a short jaunt, but to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit my love?”, he was certainly not a pleasure nor her love.

“I have just come to settle a few matters over your dowry with your father, and I thought that I would pay a visit to my bride-tobe,” good god, Grace had never met such a kiss ass.

“Lovely, well I shall go freshen, but I truly hope to see you when I return for tea,” she truly did not hope for such a thing.

“Of course my Darling,” well that's unfortunate.

He finally began to walk away, and Grace continued her journey to her chambers, as she walked, rain started to attack the house as if it was angry at the old creaky house by the river. Her calm mood now ruined by her lovely future husband, she began to stomp down the wooden floors to her comforting room until she heard two sets of footsteps behind her.

She quickly jumped into the linen closet on her right, for if her father ever saw her in this state she would definitely earn a slap across her face for letting herself look so disheveled. However, it was not her father and her mother she had a view of, but rather Ernest and one of the housemaids. He had what could only be considered a violent grip on her arm in one hand, and an aggressive grasp on her face with the other. They were clearly having an intense interaction, but I couldn’t quite make out the phrases being aggressively muttered. The housemaid was sobbing her tears almost matching the rhythm of the rain beating on the aluminum roof. She looked distressed but what happened next could not have even been imagined in my most horrifying of nightmares. Ernest, in what felt like a flash, raised his hand and struck her across the face, his hand making a wet smacking sound as it interacted with her tear-covered cheek. I was disgusted, yet stuck in place from sheer fear.

The fear Grace felt was not for the housemaid, nor anyone other than herself. Grace had always just considered her fiance to be dull, never had it occurred to her that he had a hidden violent streak waiting just beneath the surface. Her wedding tomorrow was supposed to be a dull next step, not the recreation of the pain and humiliation that she and her mother had been suffering through at the hands of her father. Grace was no longer a blushing bride or even a bride at all, she was a prisoner waiting for her sentence.

Grace completely forgetting her room and the tea she was supposed to be present for began to run straight back to the marsh. The marsh, her safe space, her comfort, her home, the place that protected her when her father wouldn’t and her mother couldn’t. The run felt long and treacherous but she finally made it to the bluff, and as she did, she didn’t climb in the marsh or move at all, she simply stood amongst what felt like a hurricane of rain and watched.

Her wet hair flew wildly as she stood, and for that moment as you looked at her she was far from ordinary, she was a beautiful disaster. The crazed look in her intelligent blue eyes was a fractured window into her thoughts of sadness, rage, and distress. The marsh was almost calling to her like a comforting old friend, and she convinced herself that no one would even see her slowly descending into the marsh with the Spanish moss hanging from the old oak trees as her curtains. She began her descent one bare foot after the other, and just when she could feel the water begin to touch her toes, darkness.

A gardener was walking around the property of the Mercer house tying long white ribbons on all the oak trees as a final touch for today’s wedding. He was softly humming an old unrecognizable tune to himself, as he went about his tasks. He had heard the maids gossiping this morning at breakfast about how Miss. Grace, the bride-to-be, was supposedly missing, and he mulled over the silly women-folk’s chatter as he went to adorn the trees closer to the marsh with their ribbons. As he began to wrap the ribbon around the tree he saw what seemed to be the bottom of some blue skirts mixed up in the tall marsh grass, he began to push aside the Spanish moss hiding the sight from his view and yelped in shock. I am protecting her, she asked for this. The coin was a clear plea for help from the girl with the blue skirt. I began to think that maybe it was a mistake and that she didn’t want my help, but when she returned to me in the rain less than an hour later, I knew. As her toes touched the furthest reaches of my tide, I swept her up and took her within me. Hiding her, protecting her from that horrible man, and her horrible father, I concealed most of her face with algae, except for her eyes of course, used my grass to hold her in my depths, and used my waters to steal her consciousness. I am saving her, her soft breathing begins to become weaker, and I am now fully taking her into my depths. I am protecting her, I am the marsh.

The gardener, now back with the groom, the father of the bride, and the mother of the bride shows them the marshes' hidden treasure. There she was, Grace Mercer, the debutante, the daughter, the fiance, and above all the ordinary woman. There she was almost consumed by the marsh, blanketed with its tides, and concealed with its algae. The marsh grass softly swayed back and forth and almost sounded as though it was holding the tune of Wanger’s Bridal Chorus, almost as if mocking the wedding that would never come.

“It almost looks as if it's protecting her”, the mother softly muttered.

“What, the marsh?”, the father snapped in return.

“From what exactly” the fiance questioned with hardly any emotion.

“From you” the marsh softly echoed.

An Ode to SCDS

Mary Sheehan

My dear Savannah Country Day School, I love you so dearly even though you make me feel a fool I love you despite how sometimesyou make me want to drown in a pool

I love you even when you are mean and it’s not cool I love you even though you are often very cruel I truly adore how you are stubborn like a mule

My dear Savannah Country Day School, You are a jewel.

My dear cafeteria lunch, I find you tasty every time I munch Even when your pasta has a crunch

I love how I don’t know what your meat is but I have a hunch

My love, I do wish you would stop serving brunch

My dear cafeteria lunch, You pack quite a punch.

My dear Mingledorff Hall, I love how you are not at all small I love when on the slick stairs I fall I love how your air-con often makes me need a shawl I hope only good things befall

My dear Mingledorff Hall, When I leave you I will bawl.

SCDS, I Love you more than the Aegean, Your friend, Mary Sheehan

Sophie Jaakkola

Sophie Jaakkola has grown up in Savannah and attended Country Day since little school. She is a senior and plans to study Fine Arts at Parsons in New York City. She loves cats, fashion, and scary movies. Once she graduates high school, she wishes to never live in the South again, yet she still intends to visit loved ones now (hopefully they’ll come and visit her instead). After college, her goal is to own a little shop full of local and personal art in the city or travel the world as a wildlife photographer.

Clean

Up on Aisle Seven

Sophie Jaakkola

The alarm plays church bells over the speaker. The clock reads 7:00 in the morning. I open my eyes to the stale popcorn ceiling and push the scratchy cream blanket down to my chest. The lights flash on without warning, white bulbs gleam hospital-like lighting across the building. I hear the sheets ruffle from my roommate awakening. Charlie yawned and stretched, making the old bed screech from any movement.

Charlie and I were partnered up on the first day in the facility. Our parents forced her and me to connect with God through conversion therapy. We were told to guide each other down the heterosexual path towards heaven, yet we haven't even held hands. Steps come closer to our door, as the nuns begin pacing across the hallway by the patient's rooms. With a microphone in hand, the lead sister begins speaking her chosen Bible verse of the day. My feet touch the cold floor, as I force myself to sit up. By 7:10, we must be in the community room of the building, or we will be sent to speak with the priest in his office. The nuns stare into our room with blank facial expressions, checking to make sure they don't have to rip the covers off our sleeping bodies. With our bitter-smelling white jumpsuits on, Charlie and I tensely walk towards the morning meeting.

I have been here for only a week, yet my bones have begun sticking further out of my skin than usual, and my complexion is now so white it almost looks see-through from the lack of sunlight. Sister Alice sat in her tall wooden chair, waiting with her hands interlocked on her covered knees. She looked past Charlie and me into the hallway without acknowledging our presence.

My chair creaked, as I slowly sat down. Almost as a response to the noise of my chair, Sister Alice quickly pops open her Bible to the page where the shiny red string had been marked.

She began skimming the page, using her finger to track the lines. Other patients started to walk into the room, silent and timid. All the rotting chairs began to fill up until every last patient had been seated by 7:09 a.m.. Sister Alice finally looks up from The Bible and scans the room.

She opened her mouth for a second then got ready for her speech, “God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, ….. Amen…. Women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature, and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women….. men committing shameless acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error.” (Romans 1:24-32) I fell in and out of focus. The words Sister Alice liked to spew out of her mouth, and into our ears, were always with ill intent. She hated us. You could see it in her eyes. I bet she even stays up at night, scanning the Bible, looking for any other way to punish us with her daily readings.

“I want you to sit with Romans’ words and digest what God felt about your people. Know that you can reverse your sinister ways by following God’s course to forgiveness and begin anew. Think in a moment of silence,” Alice closes the book and sits it on her dress very carefully.

I saw the priest out of the corner of my eye, as he walked through the hallway and laid his body against the opened door. Sister Alice, and he nodded to each other. After a few minutes passed, she stood up and began walking towards me. My heart was beating so quickly that my body froze, unable to understand why I had been chosen this day. She tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the priest. He was already staring at me, ready to lead the way.

"Now we haven't been formally introduced, have we, mister?” the Priest asked while walking in front of me, back down the hallway he came from.

“Nn-no, Father,” I replied quietly, as I tripped up on my feet, trying to keep up the same pace as him.

“Well, then, that's what I thought. Had a long discussion with your parents though, that's for sure and certain,” he chuckled to himself. Opening the vault-looking door, which led to dusty rugcovered steps, we walked up to ground level. The natural lighting hit me like a glass of cold water on a hot day, and when my eyes began to adjust, I could see the painted detailing of the dome ceiling. Beyond the steps were marbled floors, and vibrant red carpets. The priest peaked over the wall, looking out into the main part of the church as if he was hiding from someone.

“Follow me,” he ordered, walking towards yet another hall, hidden behind a large white, marbled column. He pulled out the keys from his back pocket and unlocked the thick door with “FATHER” engraved into the wood. The room was pitch black, as the door cracked open. He flipped the light switch on, and the harsh lighting shined on top of his balding head. He walked towards the desk, sitting in the middle of the room, and rested in the large leather chair that looked almost as old as him. He smirked at me and pointed towards the chair directly across from his seat. My head pounded from both the bad lighting and the priest’s constant stare in my direction.

“Now then, I'm glad we finally have the opportunity to speak. How have you enjoyed your time so far in my program, Mister Theo?”

“I've enjoyed it, Father,” I responded in as polite a tone as I possibly could.

“I'm so happy for you, but let's get one thing straight in this office,” The priest’s face quickly switched into a serious stare. “My name is no longer “Father” in this room, and in this room only you may call me John.. your friend John. That sound alright with you?” His uneasy smirk appeared on his face once again.

“Sure…. John, thank you.” He just smiled at me. I didn't know what to do, so I looked behind him at his filled shelves. A layer of dust was resting on top of every item. black-and-white photos of groups of young nuns took up about 50% of the wall space.

The rest was mainly mini ceramic figures dressed in cloaked clothing and Bible verses written on a wooden board you would find at Hobby Lobby.

The chair across me squished as the priest, I guess John, stood and walked to mine. He placed his hands on my chair's armrests and looked down at me with the devil in his eyes. My body squinched together, as he slowly came closer. I closed my eyes and dreamt of being home in my cozy bed, safe from any other people. That morning, John did to me what I only thought could happen in my nightmares. I had heard whispers of other patients having forced relations with him as well, but I never let myself believe it could happen to me too. I felt defenseless in that office with my puny, adolescent body against an adult man. If there was ever a next time, I would be prepared for a fair fight. He returned me to Sister Alice and walked back out of the door. John wasn’t seen for the rest of the day. I sunk back into the same wooden chair from the morning meeting, as everyone looked at me with pity. The day went on yet my mind was stuck in the reoccurring event, playing in my head. I couldn't get it out.

At 8:30 PM, after the nightly meeting, Charlie and I returned to our rusty beds. I could feel her glancing at me every second with wide eyes. I finally looked up from the floor and made eye contact with her. Tears welled up in my eyes when I saw the sadness in her stare. She quickly wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tightly.

Slowly, I placed my hands across her back and laid my head on her shoulder. Tears streamed down, creating a puddle on her itchy pajamas. I knew it wasn't necessary to explain what happened to me that morning, the whole building already knew. As I looked up from the flowing tears, the small wooden cross above my bed caught my attention. The ends of the cross pointed into a tip. I could end this. We shouldn't have to suffer for something we can't change. That night I slept with the cross. I felt like a barrier was set around me. No one can touch me with this in my hands.

If anyone tries to hurt me again, the cross will protect me. And this was the first night in the facility, I was able to sleep soundly. The alarm plays church bells over the speaker. The clock reads 7:00 in the morning.

Charlie and I walked down the hall with a strut in our step, at 7:05 in the morning. John wasn't in his designated spot. Sister Alice skimmed the page she marked the night before. Time passed, yet John was nowhere to be seen. We stood up to head to breakfast, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I knew it was him. Once again, I followed him down the hall, and onto the rug-covered steps. We walked in silence. I guess John felt like small talk wasn't needed anymore. As we entered his office, I could tell there would be no conversation before his heinous act. I felt the wooden cross, pressing on my back. As he walked towards my chair, I reached my hand behind my back and gripped tightly on the cross. He stood over me, too caught up in his excitement to realize my plan. Without hesitation, my hand glided towards his abdomen, and I struck him three times and finished off with a stab in his heart. I left the bloody cross in his skin, as a warning.

Everyone is a sinner in God's eyes.

The Love of a Wayward Sailor

Sophie Jaakkkola

The rippled water quietly layers the rocks in foam, then sinks back into the ocean, as the container ship passes Elba Island Lighthouse heading to the port. Florences’ arm shot up to greet the wayward sailors, on this early morning. On her tiptoes, her long brown hair flies in the breeze, wrapping around her neck, yet she continues to fight for human connection. A blow of the horn was pulled in return. Florence smiled to herself. Satisfied with her welcome to Savannah, she falls into the sand, as her sweet cat, Phoebe, already purring, hops into her criss-crossed legs and rubs against her hand in hopes for a scratch. The patches of grass whistle in harmony from the salty wind, as sand shifts across the floor. The clouded sky covered the sea in a gray tint, feeling as though the world was still sleeping. Florence daydreamed of her Peter coming home from his travels across the Atlantic, holding her tightly as he had before. Phoebe cries to Florence for a massage, pulling her out of the dream playing in her head. Her hand brushes through Phoebe's thick gray hair. Looking up at the clouds, Florence rolls into her old blanket, shielding her body from the flying sand. Her stomach aches with the need to see Peter again. He was her first partner, and yet she wanted him to be her last. She holds Phoebe attentively, remembering when she was only the size of her hand, the time Peter gifted Phoebe to Florence, as an engagement nine months ago.

...

Looking through the jewelry store's window, Peter lost hope of having enough money saved up for a traditional ring. Sitting in the rough gravel, with his back against the display window, Peter held his head in his hands, unsure of how to take the next step with Florence. Finally, as he opened his eyes with a solemn stare on his face, a bony kitten brushed up against his trousers grabbing his attention.

Her fur was matted with built-up dirt and muck from the puddles cornered in the brick roads, from the rainfall. Peter tried to trudge away from her, sulking in his own hatred, yet the kitten refused to leave his side. She pranced next to him all the way back to the River Street docks across downtown.

As he picked the kitten up off the wooden planks and held her to his chest, a brilliant idea came to mind. Peter and the kitten sailed off to the Elba Island Lighthouse, for the last time.

Florence rushed down the rickety stairs of the lighthouse, almost tripping on the end of her nightgown, after hearing Peter’s call from the beach. She ran carelessly across the rock-engulfed beach barefoot, to which her feet have since adjusted, and fell into the arms of Peter. Both laughed in the comfort of each other’s presence.

“I have a question for you,” Peter announced, pulling away from Florence and digging into her boat. He approached her with his hand behind his back, appearing to be carrying something with him.

As Peter bent down on one knee, he asked, “Florence, I love you dearly and want to spend the rest of my existence in your gaze. Will you grace me with your beauty for all of my lifetime and marry me?” He revealed the kitten from behind his back and looked up to Florence with hopeful eyes. She snatched the kitten from his grasp and held her with care.

“Yes. I will marry you,” Florence responded, still tending to the kitten.

Peter howled in his excitement, kissing Florence on the cheek, being careful to not disturb the serene kitten.

The weight of abandonment pushed heavily down on Florence’s chest. She felt trapped on this island of rocks, unaware of all that goes on in the surrounding city. Her body was pained to see anyone different from her brother, George. She’s always had George by her side since she could remember, yet he wasn’t much of a talker and kept to himself. When he got the job at the lighthouse, it was a guarantee that Florence would be joining him.

They were all the family they had, so the two had an unspoken agreement to always stick together. While George meticulously worked day and night, Florence had to keep herself busy. Every couple weeks, their food supply would die down, and she was in charge of the journey to the grocery store. Besides her one chore, Florence had an unoccupied calendar of events. She spent most of her time searching for peculiar shells hidden in the rocks to add to her growing collection on the windowsill of her bedroom, or waving to all the ships coming and leaving Savannah’s ports. Since moving to the Elba Island Lighthouse, Peter’s visit was the first time Florence’s days had been full of activity. She was wrapped up by his existence in her small world for many weeks, until he left suddenly, leaving her with only herself as company. Being alone again wasn’t the same as it was before. After the experience of sharing deep thoughts and lighthearted jokes with Peter all hours of the day, she now felt empty, with a hole in her life that Peter had carved out while they were together.

Many weeks passed, and Peter hadn’t returned the day he promised Florence he would be back. Her mind filled with fake scenarios, telling her that he had never loved her and only used her for her bed and body. He didn’t even buy her a ring, or properly ask for her hand in marriage.

Had he planned to never return? Never visit Elba Island again? And if his ship passed through Savannah, would he hide from Florence and joke with his friends about how oblivious she is? She never should’ve trusted the first man to give her attention. Replaying all of their shared memories in her head, she wondered if she had become too attached to him and scared him away. Her insides curdled at the thought of Peter disgusted with her. Unable to eat, she lay in bed, distracting herself with old books the last lighthouse owner left behind. George would leave her meals at the foot of her bed, but they would go untouched, and stale. She had no interest in continuing her life of waving to these sailors passing by, with the chance of them knowing the story of her and Peter. She figured they would either make fun or feel pity for her.

Either way formed a knot in Florence’s stomach. She couldn’t be seen, not even on the beach of the lighthouse. She decided to disappear, as if she never existed, ducking under windows, and sneaking to the outhouse, on the off chance that someone passed by was looking in her direction. This new way of living lasted for almost a month until Phoebe required Florence’s aid.

One evening, while Florence was sweeping the stairs, George called out frantically from the end of the beach, “FLORENCE, HELP, I NEED YOU! PHOEBE IS HURT!” Throughout all his lifetime, George had never yelled so deeply. Florence slipped down the stairs, flailing to the back door. As it flew open, Florence ran through the dunes, with both her hands and feet, sinking in the sand. Past the beach grass, she saw Phoebe wrapped in a trammel net, lost from an old shrimp boat. Bleeding from her neck and hind leg, Phoebe attempted to cry out to her, but no noise could escape her mouth. The net blocked her windpipe, only allowing a light whisper of air to enter her lungs.

“I tried to cut the line with scissors, but they’re too rusty for the net’s thick material,” George spat out with his voice shaking, cradling Phoebe in a fetal position.

She wouldn’t have lasted another ten minutes with that rope constricting her oxygen flow,” The doctor told Florence, handing over Phoebe who had already begun to purr.

“Thank you, sir, but I don’t know how to repay you. You see, my brother and I have no money,” Florence said, staring at Phoebe with relief in her voice.

Florence began to push the boat out into the water for the first time by herself.

“Get in,” she directed to George, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him off the ground. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks as the boat crashed into the tall waves.

Rain poured heavily, making their clothes stick to their skin, and weighing them down. Florence took hold of Phoebe and rushed across the dock’s splintered boards.

George stayed behind, tying the boat firmly to the wooden pole, and watched over the dock from a covered fish gutting-station, in case the rope loosened from the winds of the storm.

Creating small puddles with every step, Florence ran to the emergency room desk holding Phoebe securely, “My cat is hurt, please can you help please.” All color had left Florence’s face, but the red on her cheeks and nose from the course wind outside. She had dried-up tears across her face that glimmered in the white light of the waiting room.

“Yes, of course, let me find someone to assist you,” the woman urgently walked to another room down the hall and brought out a doctor with a confused look on his face and a half-eaten sandwich in his hand, still chewing his food. He made eye contact with Florence, and his facial expression became serious. He disappeared into another room, then came out with a metal cart filled with sharp tools and a nurse on his side. He hurried to Phoebe, as Florence held her out in his direction.

The nurse slid Phoebe into his arms and pulled the rope slightly out of her damp fur for the doctor to see. In his hand, the doctor carried polished surgical scissors. The blades cut straight through the line, as the doctor diligently removed the net. Phoebe relaxed her body as it was pulled from underneath her and thrown away.

“Her cuts aren’t deep, they will heal on their own, but I’m glad you made it when you did.

“No need to, just a regular part of my dinner. I'm used to it,” the doctor smiled, taking another bite of his sandwich.

Florence nodded to him as a thanks and sauntered towards the exit, hugging Phoebe whose hair felt matted, just as it had when Peter brought her home for the first time.

When walking through the waiting room, Florence saw a familiar face.

“Hey sweetie, how you been doin'? Haven’t seen you in a while,” said Gloria, the cashier, from the grocery store Florence used to frequent.

“I’m, I’m good,” Florence hesitated under her breath, embarrassed to be seen in such an unattractive state.

“Well honey, I'm glad to hear. I just wanted to tell ya that I'm sorry for your loss, and I’m prayen for you every Sunday,” Gloria shared, looking at Florence with sorrow in her eyes.

“No. Look. Phoebe is alright. Look,” Florence stepped closer to Gloria and unraveled her arms around Phoebe to show her.

“No, I'm not talkin about the cat sweety, I’m talkin about poor Peter. Such a tragic way to die, out at sea.”

Stella Wynn has lived in Savannah since she was born. She has been a lifer at SCDS and plans to attend Georgia Southern after graduation. She loves going on the boat, being by the water, and shopping downtown. Her favorite field trip was the tour of the Mercer/Williams house and eating breakfast at Clary’s. After college, she plans to move back to Savannah and live there for a while.

Stella Wynn

Magnolia’s River

By Stella Wynn

The rain slowly stopped splattering against the car window as they passed the Florida line heading to Georgia. Maggie never wanted to leave her home. She had friends, a house she loved and was smart. Blaine (Magnolia’s father) was a construction worker and had been offered a once in a lifetime opportunity at a new division in Savannah. The Savannah sun crept through the window as Maggie's eyes lifted to a big white house with creamcolored columns in front of them. This was reality, it wasn't a bad dream the Collins family now lived in Savannah and the life they once had was now a memory.

“Grab your boxes out of the front” yelled Mrs.Collins to Maggie as she opened the grand door to the butlers pantry.

Stumbling to see over her two giant boxes, Maggie tripped and her boxes emptied on the black and white tile floor “What a great start to Savannah” she thought to herself.

After a few days of moving in Maggie became to feel imprisoned in her own home with nothing to do . She felt like her life was on repeat (wake up, eat, hang around, eat, watch tv then bed) she had no friends and the thought of school starting in less than a week made her uneasy. The ugly uniforms were sitting on her bedside table just waiting for Tuesday morning. As the days became longer Maggie realized she needed to get out of her house. While Mr. and Mrs.Collins were gone Maggie wrote in big letters on a note card “ I have gone for a walk, will be back soon,” then packed a sandwich and closed the door.

The heat of the sun beat down on the not so shaded path that led around Maggie’s neighborhood. As she was about to turn around to head back home, a bench that was almost completely hidden by the fallen Spanish moss caught her eye. The bench looked so inviting with the sun being behind the trees as Maggie pushed the moss to the side for her to sit. No one was around. Savannah was quiet and for the first time Maggie found it peaceful. As she bit off of the cold peanut butter sandwich she heard a rustling

noise from behind her. At first glance there was nothing to be seen but the closer she looked Maggie saw a barely worn path in the depth of the trees. Maggie liked to stay home and watch tv or read. She had never been the adventurous type but a wave of emotions flashed over her and she jumped off the bench covered with green moss.

“I'm going down that path, whether it’s boring or not,” she thought.

With her opened lunch box left on the bench she took her sandwich and started picking off pieces of bread to leave in case the train got confusing. Even though it looked like no one had walked it recently, to Maggie's surprise the trail was well kept. The farther she went Maggie smelled a strong stench that she was familiar with. The marsh. Within another minute the path cleared and a fallen down shack was now the only thing she saw. Maggie slowly walked around the branches making sure to make no sudden noises as she walked to the back of the shack. The marsh backed up into the front of the porch to the shed and on the side a boat was pulled into the yard. Before Maggie could even look closer at the boat she realized the sun had already started to go down. There was no way she could find her way back in the dark so reluctantly Maggie followed her breadcrumbs back to the bench. By the time she got back home Mr and Mrs. Collins were sitting at the kitchen island waiting.

“Where have you been? All the note said was be back soon.” said Mr. Collins in a stern tone.

“I just went for a walk and ate a sandwich. I did nothing wrong so I don't know why you're mad dad,” replied Maggie.

“ I never said I was mad at you, your mother and I were just worried. School is starting tomorrow and it's already 7:30” Maggie had completely forgotten about school.

“Why did he have to bring that up?” she thought as she slowly walked up the grand staircase. Her bed had never felt more comfortable as Maggie stared at her ceiling thinking about that rusted boat. Her mind flipped back and forth from school to that boat.

mind flipped back and forth from school to that boat. School made her mind explode with nervous emotions but the boat and shack made her find peace.

The birds chirping as well as the sun rising made Maggie roll around her bed waking up with the smell of waffles cooking downstairs. Maggie put on her blue cotton shirt and long plaid skirt that had to be longer at her fingertips then slowly walked into the kitchen. Her stomach hurt too bad to eat the warm waffles but she had to have something in her stomach so ate a cool pear from her refrigerator.

“ Magnolia Claire, get into the car right now, you are not going to be late for your first day.”

The school was cold and eerie, and Maggie got flashbacks of being back in Florida. She missed her friends, her teachers, but most importantly she missed her home. The bell rang as it signaled the first class of the day - AP Lit - Maggie loved English and was sort of excited to hear about the class. As soon as the door opened Maggie’s heart sank. Schools were not different in Savannah, the girls had their clicks already and every spot next to a girl was either taken or “ being saved” for one of their friends.

As the teacher began to call roll her voice became louder “ Magnolia Collins?”

“ Present. And its Maggie” she said back. Then it happened. The quiet room became filled with snickering from the girls in the front of the class.

“ May I go to the restroom?” Maggie asked as she shoved her chair back.

Down the hall a rush of adrenaline came over Maggie. She hated this place. No one was nice. As Maggie passed the bathroom sign she checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was following and left through the side door of the school. Tracking her steps from the way she came yesterday Maggie made her way back to that old path. Through the trees she walked right to that rusted boat. The tide was high and as bad as the boat looked on the outside there was a good support underneath.

With all her might Maggie pushed the boat into a clearing in the water and hopped in. The salty air made Maggie feel like a new person as she puttered around the water in small circles to make sure she did not get lost in the tall marsh grass.

“This is going to be alright after all,” Maggie said out loud. She docked the boat back into the yard and ran her fingers through her hair to make it look like she had been at school when she got home. By the time Maggie made it back to school the dismissal bell rang out so she filed in line with everyone else just like she had never left. No one had to know that Maggie was not there, it was her little secret and it made her happy for once.

Days turned into weeks as Maggie finally mastered her school ditching routine (1. Go to school for half an hour 2. Ask to use the restroom and finally 3. Go out the side door) Maggie had turned into a completely different person. She now loved wildlife and her favorite animals to see were the dolphins. Their blue fins jumping out of the water having all the freedom in the world almost made Maggie jealous. But there was nothing to be jealous of. Her life at the moment was perfect.

As she pulled the boat onto her man-made dock Maggie began to realize she was running later than usual. Sprinting back to school Maggie made it just as people started to leave.

“That was cutting it really close” she said to herself smiling as she walked back home

Dropping her bag in the butlers pantry Maggie heard her parents in a serious conversation. As she crept up the stairs a voice came from right behind her.

“Magnolia, will you stay down here for a minute? Meet your father and I in the kitchen.” said Mrs. Collins Maggie, heart racing, turned around and headed towards the kitchen where her mother and father were waiting with a

sheet of paper at the main table.

“Read this” as a sheet of paper was passed across the table Dear Mr and Mrs Collins, It has been brought to my attention that Magnolia’s grades have begun to drop and her absence have been increasing. I am sure yall know the reason for her absences but I would like to have an in person meeting if her grades continue to fall. I know as a new student it might be hard to fit in but I am sure with her dedication she will succeed.

Best, Principle Owens

“Is there a certain reason that you have been absent at school? We haven't gone out of town as a family so there should be no absences on our end.” asked Mr. Collins

As Maggie told the story of how no one at school reached out to her and the only peace she found was in her boat she began to see sympathy in her dad’s eyes. As she looked back over at her mother there was a complete opposite reaction. There had always been an image of this perfect, preppy school girl to her but now that was gone and her mother saw a new version of Magnolia. A version she did not like.

After Maggie was sent to her room she could hear yelling between her parents in the distance. At first her punishment was to be driven to and from school while having a buddy system everywhere she went. Even though no one talked to her and Maggie wished to be out on the water with the dolphins she realized that her mother (in her own way) could be right. Within a few months of this new punishment her freedom began to expand and Maggie had a compromise with her parents. She was allowed to go on her boat on the weekend only if her grades were at a comfortable level. Maggie accepted it and before she knew it school felt less like a chore and more like an enjoyment. People broke out of their groups and talked with Maggie. Her grades also began to skyrocket with almost being the smartest girl in her grade. While Maggie walked home in late January she looked back at her life before.

She still missed her Florida friends and on bad days just wanted to walk out of the house, but she now thought of what she had learned. Yes, she did enjoy skipping most of the time, but her new friends and education became the top priority. Her life in Florida was now a faded memory and her new life in Savannah had just begun.

Come in…If You Dare

By Stella Wynn

As the sun peered into my light blue painted room I rolled out of bed. I knew what was going to happen tonight. We already had the plans set, but my stomach still ached with the thought of it. I dreaded going to scary movies so I had no clue how I was going to make it through the night. Today was October 31, and my friends and I bought tickets for the world famous haunted house. As I walked down our creaky staircase an article appeared on my phone about the background of the house, which was once called the “Kehoe House,” a funeral parlor. In this parlor, it was said 10 children had died there, and after the incident, the house was closed up for multiple years, until they opened the haunted house. A cold breeze ran down my spine as I closed my phone, deep down I felt like something bad was going to happen tonight. I met up with Bree, Tucker, and Jackson right before 5:00 and they all jumped into my smaller car. While on the ride there, Tucker and Jackson decided to be funny and read ghost stories to Bree and I, making our nerves even worse than before. As we slowly pulled into the line, a man with a skeleton mask and neon lights walked up to my car.

“Park over in the grass field” he said to me.

The parking lot was full of people all in different costumes and what looked like fake blood. There were also multiple food trucks from famous restaurants in Savannah (like the pink house and pirates house) that made the salty air smell like fried food. Knowing our turn in the Kehoe Haunted House was not for 20 more minutes, Jackson and Tucker walked in line to grab a bite to eat. As they walked back to Bree and I, we had moved up in line to the front door. The house had all types of decorations on the outside of it, the windows were all boarded up and bloody hand prints were marked all over the door and door handle. Sitting on the porch in a rocking chair was a clown with his face covered in white paint and had a small black hat on the top of his head. As we walked by I noticed a sign that sat in his lap.

“Come in.. If you dare.” I read out loud

“What did you say?” Tucker asked me but I just shrugged my shoulders and walked behind him. I did not want to seem scared. As we walked by the clown he moved his hand from the bottom of the sign, which read “You can't turn back now…”

The blood curdling screams that came from the house made both boys look at each other with excited expressions on their faces. Then slowly the sounds died and the main door opened. I pushed Bree back so I could walk behind Jackson, in my head I thought I was safe in the middle of our line. In the first room there was the back of a man looking down into a casket. As Jackson stepped closer the man quickly turned his head so we could see what he looked like. His face was covered in blood and what looked like flesh that had been burned off. Trying to walk by the man stopped us in our tracks.

“Look in there” he mumbled to us while he pointed at the casket We all turned our heads and walked forward but he said it again in a stronger tone of voice, that sounded like he was no longer acting. Leaning against the casket there were the decomposed bodies of children laying there. Then I thought back to the article I had read this morning. The Kehoe house was shut down many years ago after ten children died. The bodies laying in the casket were not fake, they were the children who died in this same house. Hearing and feeling the sound of breathing down my neck I turned, looked at Jackson and spirited out of the room.

“Where are we? This is not a fun haunted house, this is a madhouse.” screamed Tucker and Bree from behind us With only one way in and one way out we reluctantly made it into the second room where another man stood next to a giant chair holding an electric shocker. There were brown suede ropes on the arm rest and it had looked like someone had been tied down recently.

“Sit” he said to Jackson

Just staring back at him the man zapped his shocker and grabbed Jackson’s arm. He dragged him onto the chair and squirming like a worm began strapping his arms down. Tears burst into my eyes, there was nothing we could do for him and both doors had us bolted in so we could not get help. Hearing a countdown go off the chair started to make a weird noise and then Jackson started to shake. At first they were small jolts but then we realized he was being electrocuted. Then the sounds of bolts clanking made the three of us run to the door hoping this was all part of a skit. The next room sat a doctor wearing scrubs and a mask around his mouth with rubber gloves that were covered in blood. The room smelled like the stench of rotten animals and an operating table was placed in the middle of the room. Looking to the side of it I caught a glimpse of sharp tools placed on a silver tray. “ No!” I cried “Can you please stop this?”

Not saying a word the man stood and walked behind me. He stopped at Tucker, then walked slowly to Bree. He grabbed her by her arm and pulled Bree onto the table strapping her down where all she could see was a bright white light. Then the door opened to the next room and Tucker and I were pushed down the hall. As the door closed I heard Bree’s screams and then it became silent. Bree was no longer making any noise and we both knew it was not because she wanted to be quiet. Bree had died in that room. With tears down both of our faces we began to see light from the next room. We opened the door hoping this nightmare would end but as soon as I walked forward a man with a metal mask and chainsaw jumped at me. “This is your last round. One of you will make it out of the maze but the other will not.” He said to us. Tucker and I looked at each other and without another thought gave each other the biggest hug and ran splitting up. The maze was quiet and I was hoping that we would both make it out alive but both turns I went had dead ends. The sound of chainsaws started to come my way and the faith I had in myself vanished, just like my friends did. I turned around one last time and a chainsaw was the only thing I saw in my face.

Blake Culbreth

Blake Culbreth has lived in Savannah his entire life. He enjoys playing golf, taking photographs, art journaling, and creating art in many different types of mediums, such as charcoal, painting, drawing, collage, etc. Additionally, Blake loves to try and explore different foods in Savannah and is always looking to try a new cafe or restaurant. In the future, Blake plans to pursue a business degree at Furman University. Unfortunately, Blake does not plan to return to Savannah after attending Furman University; however, we will see what the future holds.

Anna

By Blake Culbreth

We all know Savannah has a haunted reputation full of scary ghost stories, but have you ever seen one of these stories come to life? A married couple, Jackson and Charlotte, were visiting Savannah from Raleigh, North Carolina, and they had visited during October for a Fall weekend. Jackson and Charlotte were interested in visiting haunted venues in Savannah, and they chose 1790 Inn and Restaurant since they wanted to experience hauntings from the many ghosts of 1790, such as Anna and Thaddeus. Anna was known for befriending single women who stayed in the hotel, flirting with married men, and married women, well let’s just say she sure haunted them… Married women at 1790 Inn have reported to have their bed sheets tucked in, hear noises in the middle of the night, wake up with scratches on their arm, and some have even reported hearing voices which said “your time is coming soon”! Thaddeus was known for stealing pennies that guest dining at the 1790 restaurant had left on the table. Moreover, if the dining guests ask about Thaddeus, they will pretend they do not know what they are talking about. They also wanted to participate in a ghost tour at The Colonial Park Cemetery since they heard ghosts come to life there and roam around the cemetery...there was even a rumor that two girls were murdered by a ghost in the cemetery, but who knows if that’s true, and what other murders by ghosts have or will occur... Jackson and Charlotte parked their car on President Street and walked up towards the 1790 Inn and Restaurant. They had seen a doll of a ghost in the window from when they were walking up, and they weren’t sure who it was, although they would soon find out... They walked up the stairs to the Inn lobby, walked in, and were greeted by the friendly hotel receptionist, Virginia. Jackson asked curiously, “What’s the backstory of the girl in the window on the third floor?”

Virginia smiled and responded, “The girl in the window, Anna, is a ghost who died here many years ago by jumping out of the

window on Room 204 and falling to her death. Although she is no longer with us, her ghost still remains with us.”

Charlotte wondered how she would see Anna.

Charlotte asked peculiarly, “If her ghostly presence is still here, how will we see signs of her?”

Virginia responded attentively, “Well, if you’re a single woman, then she adores you and wants to be your best friend. She picks out an outfit from your suitcase and invites you to have a drink with her downstairs.”

Jackson began to wonder how Anna would treat a married couple such as Charlotte and him.

Jackson asked nervously, “Well, how does she interact with a married couple such as us?”

Virginia smiled and responded, “It would be better if I did not tell you. Anyways, here’s your room key! Have a great stay!”

Jackson looked down at the room key card holder and it read “Room 204”. He thought about how Room 204 is the room Anna stayed, and he wondered what was going to happen during their stay.

Jackson asked Charlotte frighteningly, “Isn’t that the room where Anna jumped out of the window?” Charlotte responded, “I believe so, I hope we don’t experience anything haunted…”

Jackson and Charlotte went up the stairs and walked down the hallway to Room 204. They turned the key to Room 204, and found the window opened and a doll of Anna in the window. Although there was nothing else that was physically haunting, they found this odd considering they had previously known the backstory of Anna’s death, and they had seen Anna’s doll from the street. They settled down and began to unpack their belongings. Jackson asked Charlotte if she wanted to go have a drink downstairs in the tavern bar. They got dressed and walked downstairs. Charlotte ordered a Dirty Martini and Jackson ordered an Old Fashioned. A beautiful, young woman next to Charlotte complimented her dress, and Charlotte responded, “Thank you so much! I love your cocktail dress, where did you get it from?”

The woman, Caroline, said “You know, it’s the funniest story! I was out shopping on Broughton Street, and when Housekeeping cleaned my room, a beautiful white dress was laid out on my bed, paired with the perfect black heels and gold necklace. Although I found it a bit strange that housekeeping went through my stuff, the white dress was so beautiful that it ended up working out!”

Although Caroline’s outfit was in fact not picked out by Housekeeping, Caroline will soon find out it was actually Anna’s doing...

Jackson heard this young woman whispering in his ear, “You’re so handsome, I would really appreciate it if you bought me a Whiskey Sour.”

The young woman was not even at the bar, the voice was just Anna’s spirit.

Jackson asked the bartender, “Hey! The woman next to me wanted to get a Whiskey Sour, could I buy her next drink?”

Caroline said, confusingly, “That’s very nice of you, but I didn’t order anything?”

Jackson said, “Oh, I apologize for the confusion. A young woman with black hair and a white dress asked me for a drink. She was just here, I’m not sure where she went.” Charlotte heard Jackson trying to buy this “young woman” a drink and began to question Jackson’s loyalty towards their marriage.

Charlotte remarked angrily, “Jackson! Why are you lying about seeing women who aren’t really there? Also, why are you buying other women drinks, anyway? Are you in love with someone else?”

Jackson was fully committed to their marriage but Anna wanted to disrupt their marriage so she could get with Jackson and torture Charlotte for being happy and married.

Jackson replied defensively, “I swear she was just here! I was just being friendly, I never meant to flirt with her.”

Caroline suddenly remembered that a woman with black hair and a white dress appeared and disappeared in her room as soon as she saw her.

Caroline stated, “It’s so funny you mention this woman had black hair and was wearing a white dress, because I saw a woman when I left my room wearing the exact same thing, although I’m unsure where she went, it’s like she just vanished! Additionally, I’m wearing a white dress myself!”

What could be up with this white dress? Is Caroline’s dress the same as this mysterious woman that Caroline saw?

Charlotte asked the bartender, “Do you know anything about this mysterious woman?”

The bartender said, “I know exactly who she is. The woman y’all are describing is actually 1790’s infamous ghost, Anna. She is rumored to have died here many years ago, but she still haunts the guests. For example, she picks out an outfit out of your suitcase, typically a white dress to match her, and wants to be your best friend if you’re a single woman.” Caroline inquired, “Wait a second, that’s exactly what happened to me earlier today. My white dress, shoes, and necklace were all laid out on my bed when I came back from shopping. I just assumed housekeeping did it, do you think it was Anna? Do you think she wanted me to look like her?”

Caroline began to get scared and question Anna’s presence. She began to wonder why Anna was obsessed with her? Was it love or hate?

The bartender responded, “Oh it for sure wasn’t housekeeping. That was definitely Anna’s doing. Although, don’t worry, Anna loves you since you’re single. I wouldn’t worry too much about your white dress. It’s just the married woman who she has bad blood with…”

After hearing this, Charlotte was petrified, since she was a married woman and she was concerned that Anna would haunt her.

Charlotte inquired frighteningly, “What about me? I’m a married woman, but I’m just a new romantic! I’ve only been married for a little over five years.”

The bartender responded uncannily, “I guess you’ll find out… although I know places you can hide from Anna. She typically doesn’t haunt the 1790 Restaurant, so if you wanted to have a romantic dinner there, you could catch a break from her for a few hours. She also doesn’t haunt the Inn’s lobby, so you could relax there as well. Although as for the rooms, well let’s just say Anna’s haunting is not over yet…”

Charlotte was so worried about their room that she immediately wanted to check it for Anna’s presence.

Charlotte responded, “I’m going to check our room to make sure Anna hasn’t haunted us.”

Charlotte’s heart began to race as she walked up the stairs and got closer to their room. She heard an echoing voice in the hallway, which said “don’t go inside!” Her heart was about to beat out of her chest as she turned the key in the door to their room. She opened the door, and found an open window, ripped curtains, and the bedsheets taken off the bed. Anna was standing in the middle of the room, with frizzy hair and her white dress ripped. However, Anna was not the only one wearing a white dress. Anna yelled, “Look at the color of your dress! It was red, but now it’s white...did you steal my other dress and give me a ripped copy?”

Charlotte approached Anna, nervously, “I promise I didn’t steal your white dress! I don’t even know how my dress changed color. I don’t want any trouble! I know I’m married, but I promise I don’t want to hurt you. Please, don’t hurt me!”

Charlotte was so nervous at this point that she could not even move. She tried to beg for Anna’s mercy but Anna was heartless.

Charlotte was so nervous at this point that she could not even move. She tried to beg for Anna’s mercy but Anna was heartless. Anna yelled, “I don’t believe your lies, you know you stole my white dress, and now I’m in shambles with this ripped up copy of my white dress! I will have no pity on you! You are a married woman, you took everything from me! You don’t deserve to be in love, I’ve been lonely my whole life! No one has ever loved me, so if I can’t be in love, I don’t want anyone else to be in love either!”

Charlotte stated, “Please have mercy, I’m beg-”

Anna snapped Charlotte’s neck. She then dragged her towards the open window, lifted up Charlotte’s body, and threw her out of the window. Charlotte fell to her death from the third floor of the 1790 Inn.

...

No one ever found out about Charlotte’s death either, her body was said to have vanished into the streets of Savannah. Charlotte’s ghost will now live on to be yet another ghost who haunts the city of Savannah.

1790 Linocut

Blake Culbreth

Savannah’s Mouthwatering Fare

by Blake Culbreth

Oh, Savannah, my home town, your fine fare is a true delight to my palette

A symphony of divine flavors plays on the presentation of the fine platings at fleeting Sassy spring salads harvested at Ardsley Station make for a symphony of fresh seasonal ingredients, such as the fresh taste of seasonal onions, the tangy taste of glorious green goddess dressing making your tongue mouthwater from the combination of sweet and savory flavors, the freshness of the ingredients invigorating your sense of smell as it enters your soul. Oh Savannah, Like hot sauce lingers on your tongue, so does the Carolina barbecue sauce, delicately ingested with each bite of the fresh, crispy chicken fingers at Sandfly Barbecue, leaving a divine salty and savory taste on your tongue. Freshly breaded pecan crust crisps the chicken, as the vanilla glaze combines your taste buds, along with another sweet flavor, the freshly baked sweet potato as the divine concoction of flavors mixes together just as the sweet and savory combination of chicken and waffles create a harmony of flavors, making your taste buds tingle. Oh Savannah, even if I were to ever move away from this delightful city, I will never forget all the magnificent dining adventures you have to offer.

Dalton Brown

Dalton Brown is a senior at Country Day, he is attending Lafayette College next year to major in economics even though he is terrible at AP stats. He has an extreme passion for baseball, clash of Clans, and most importantly Lit Sav. He could never see a world without him taking Lit Sav his senior year, and thinks it should be a mandatory class for all students k-12 attending Country Day (Ms. Floyd would need a raise). He finally would like to thank Ms Floyd for blessing my schedule every day we don’t drop.

Stone Cold Killers by Dalton Brown

How an eighteen year old on a history field trip started the biggest phenomenon possibly in the whole world.

Gunnar Hederson, a senior, who attends Savannah Country Day School in Savannah, Georgia, woke up this morning, and drove to school like any other day, but little did he know his life was about to change forever. When he arrives at school he remembers that he has a field trip in his favorite class, Literary Savannah; they are going to the historic museum in the Plant Riverside district. Once he hops on the bus, he sees his boys Adley, Grayson, Jackson, and Heston who are also going to the museum, and they all immediately start jumping with joy. Gunnar and his friends grew up together and were all lifers at Country Day, so they had become very close. Once arriving at the museum the teacher tells them they are allowed to roam around, but they have to be back around lunch time- and to not but touch anything that clearly states “DO NOT TOUCH.” Gunnar, Aldey, Grayson, Jackson, and Heston, who are notorious for having selective hearing at convenient times like this, decide to walk straight into the restricted area of the museum. There were at least 100 Massive stone statues lined up like soldiers in military formation. Adley and Grayson started climbing the statues and taking pictures for their Snapchat stories. However Jackson, Heston, and Gunnar continue walking further into the off-limits zone, eager to see what more is back there. They saw a shining blue button in the back right corner of the area which was illuminating the entire room. Almost in sync, they had the bright idea to play a prank on Adley and Grayson: they covered the blue button with a towel, and everything went pitch black. Grayson starts freaking out and yells “Hello?”

To anyone that could hear him, and Gunnar replies “Pollo”

Frustrated, Grayson replies in a yell, “I”m gonna kill you, turn the lights back on”

Gunnar along with his friends, all in tears from laughter, replies with “Come get me!”

So, Adley and Grayson have the great idea of using their phone flashlight to find the rest of them. As soon as he finds them, Grayson sprints towards Gunnar and tackles him falling backwards on the blue button. They look back and see a sign in bold, neon letters which read “DO NOT TOUCH”; sirens begin wailing and lights start flashing. All the boys turn to each other with stunned faces wondering what they just did, and Jackson says “Oh sh*t” in an oddly calm voice. The ground starts rumbling, out of the corner his eye Gunnar sees one of the statues move his arm, he instantly screams “RUNNNNNNNNN!”

All the boys take off as fast as they can, dodging statues who are slowly coming to life. Once they get out of the restricted area they see chaos: everyone running, two raptors who have come alive, and statues approaching. Jackson, Heston, Adley and Gunnar, actively freaking out with what they had created, start looking for an escape in the local steakhouse, Stone and Webster. They quickly realize that there is no way out, and they have actually cornered themselves into being the raptors next meal. After realizing that the raptors are making a b-line right towards them, Jackson screams and ducks down under the table, and Adley just stands there seeming to accept his fate. However Gunnar grabs a half-eaten 24 ounce porterhouse and chucks it behind the raptors, distracting them. At the same time, Grayson threw a chair at the window which shattered the glass. The boys once start running for their lives once again and keep it up for about two miles until they find an alleyway behind Mrs. Wilkes kitchen. The boys then decide to sneak into Mrs. Wilkes’ to get some water since they've been running for what felt like years. They sit at one of the dining tables trying to process what they just did.

Gunnar takes initiative and says, “This is our fault, and we need to do something about it, our city is being completely destroyed because of what we did.”

Adley replies “So what are we gonna do?”

“We need to get back to the museum and press the button to freeze the statues again,” says Jackson.

“How do we know that's gonna work?” Heston says while guzzling water

“Okay, let’s look in the kitchen for something to use as a weapon.” says Grayson

“Okay,” the boys agreed.

Gunnar finds the only possibly helpful weapon in the whole place, a shotgun, behind the counter. Grayson goes with the fire extinguisher on the wall. Adley grabs the blow torch off of the chef's tool rack. Jackson gets the biggest knife he can find. And, Heston grabs two pans, one in each hand. The boys slowly open the door to see if anything dangerous is outside, but instead they see a car parked outside. Gunnar runs over without a doubt, smashes the window with his shotgun, opens the door, and begins to hotwire the car. Everyone is surprised that Gunnar knows how to do this, but they are extremely grateful that he can. The engine starts running and everyone hops in.

Gunnar says, “Can someone pull up google maps? I don't know how to get there”

“Yeah I got you,” says Adley.

As the boys drive past all of the destruction that they had caused, they see the waving girl who was a statue on the Savannah River on top of PJs, their favorite restaurant, but then the waving girl turns and locks on to the car slowly passing by and starts rushing at them. The boys begin screaming, Gunnar steps on the gas, but not quick enough to get a massive slap from the waving girl which left a massive dent in the car. With the waving girl chasing after them and the car fender dragging on the road, the boys knew they had to ditch the car.

“Jump out the car when we take a turn on Broughton” Says Gunnar.

“Wait WHAT?????” says Jackson who was in the middle seat between Heston and Grayson.

As the boys jump out the car, they run into Java burrito for cover and they realize Jackson is nowhere to be found. Aldey looks out the window, and sees Jackson clamped in the hand of the waving girl, screaming for his life.

“HEEEELPPPPPPP” says Jackson about to be thrown into a building.

The boys run out of Java burrito without hesitation with all their weapons. Gunnar shoots her in the knee cap, Adley starts blowtorching her feet, Grayson sprays the fire extinguisher in the air so the waving girl couldn't see, Heston realizing his weapon is completely useless in this situation throws one of his pans at her head, and finally Jackson Grabs his knife out of his waistband and slices the waiving girls hand off.

“AHHHHHHHHHH” says the waving girl as she falls to one knee, and instantly disappears.

“Woah what just happened” says Gunnar

“I don't even know but Jackson, how did you not get out of the car?” says Adley

“I was in the middle seat” says Jackson

“Oh my bad” Heston and Grayson say at the same time.

The boys after catching their breath keep pushing forward trying to make it back to the museum. Luckily Adley worked at Naan on Broughton and knew there was a back door which cut down their hike by 10 mins according to google maps. As they approach river street they see all the damage the statues have caused which motivates them to get to the blue button. Suddenly a gunshot hits the ground right below them, and the boys turn around and see that the Haitian Statue from Franklin Square has traveled down to river street to protect the blue button.

“GO GO GO GO GO” says Gunnar

“Why do all these statues hate us!” Adley says while running for his life

As bullets fly past them, and using all the cover they can get, make it back to Stone and Webster unscathed. As they walk into Stone and Webster from the shattered window Grayson created they hear a growling noise, and see the raptors once again.

“Well well well” Gunnar says “We meet again” Grayson says Immediately the raptors start to bolt towards them, but this time they are prepared, and Gunnar shoots one of them, and Grayson slices the head off the other.

“How about them apples” Jackson says “Smell yah” Gunnar says.

The boys were ecstatic after returning the raptors to their statues, but they knew this was just the beginning to get back to the blue button since there was an army of statues in the restricted area. As they walked out of Stone and Webster and into the museum once again it was barely recognizable, the glass shattered, people dead, and the walls torn apart. As they snuckinto the restricted area most of the army was gone, wreaking havoc on Savannah, but some stayed to protect the button. So Gunnar came up with a plan to grab the statues’ attention, and lead them away from the button. Gunnar precedes to shoot his shotgun up in the air, and the statues robotically turn and sprint at him. While Jackson is sprinting behind the statues to press the button, Gunnar is taken by one of the statues and is thrown around. As soon as Gunnar is about to be smashed into the ground Jackson touches the button and instantly the statues go back to where they were, and Gunnar falls out of the air. The boys run over to check on Gunnar to see if he's alright, and Gunnar with a painful look on his face asks them if they did it. The boys reply “Yes” After they help Gunnar up, and walk out of the restricted area they realize everything is back to normal. The teacher runs up to them and says “Good god children where have you been? I was worried sick about you guys”

“Sorry we were exploring” says Adley Then the boys get on the bus, and head back to school like nothing ever happened.

Don’t

Let the Bedbugs bite by Dalton

Brown

Dear, Mr. and Ms Linderbum, I was the doctor of your son, and I was hoping I could give you some closure on his suicide. Ryan Linderbum, was a ghost story tour guide here in Savannah, and was always saying how much he hated telling these “fake stories”. Everyone knew him as the guy on a segway traveling through Savannah telling the spookiest stories. People also knew he didn't believe in them due to his lack of passion for the job. Ryan came to me, because he had trouble sleeping because of these nightmares he was having, and was asking for sleeping pills. I told Ryan to get some psychological help before he resorted to meds, but I believe Ryan bought some from one of his coworkers Sindy Spookinstein who always had a grudge on him. He was always saying how she was telling their manager how much he hated his job. I arrived at his house, which was right about river street sweets, later that day for a daily checkup, and saw all the walls torn up, plates smashed, and windows broken. When I get to his room I see Ryan past out in his bed with the most rancid smell that resonated from his body. I consciously try to wake him up without alarming him, because I thought at first he had a psychotic break. However I wasn't able to wake him, so I checked if he was breathing, which he was, even though he had this mysterious green ooze coming from his nose and ears. This led me to call an ambulance for him, and we set him up at the hospital for daily care. For weeks I explored his pale body finding nothing, but the mysterious green ooze coming from his face. At night I would see dots of green shining through his skin while it was traveling through his organs. I sent letters to specialists all over the country to please travel to Savannah and help him, but the people were either too scared to get infected or had no idea what was wrong with him. I had him cooped up in an airtight room for protection for the patients, doctors, nurses, and for himself. Finally after over a month I hit a breakthrough if you want to call it that.

There was another case reported of mysterious green ooze, and the person who had the symptoms was the coma patient in the room next door. At first I assumed it was a coincidence since Ryan was in an airtight room the whole time, but then it started spreading from room to room with no way of entering the patient's system. Finally I lost all hope after the whole west wing of the hospital was put in comas, but only the patients, not any of the doctors or nurses. My last attempt at saving them was I called in the hoodoo specialist known around Savannah for her odd tactics, and living quarters, since she lived in the Crystal Beer Parlor gift shop. When I finally got her to come to the hospital right when she walked in the door she said she felt the “Immediate feeling of hoodoo magic in the building”

And as she walked to the west wing her hands started shaking because of how strong the magic was. As we approached the door she was petrified of walking into the containment area, because of the

“Mysterious Hoodoo Vibe” She said the room let off. Personally, I felt nothing but pure frustration, because I couldn't help these people. As I basically forced her into the room she began her hoodoo ritual to see what is wrong with them. I watched her grab a dream chaser, fresh herbs, and dog bone from her suitcase. Then she began to rub the herbs on the bone, and used a knife to chip off pieces of the bone onto the dream catcher. After she hooked the dreamcatcher right above Ryans face and she told me to “Leave it overnight, and no one is allowed to be in this containment area because it will scare away the supernatural being.”

I came back the next day, and I couldn't believe it. The dream catcher was lathered with the mysterious green goo. I immediately sent the dream catcher for testing to see if the goo would come back with anything, because we had never had this much of the substance. It took about 6 hours for the labs to come back, however on the way to get the sample data the power was shut off.

The whole Hospital was pitch black, and a mysterious buzzing noise radiated through the whole building. I decided to leave the hospital and buy as many dream catchers, fresh herbs, and dog bones as I could to hopefully extract all the green goo from Ryan's body. I evacuated the whole hospital, of doctors and nurses for the night, to guarantee there would be no one entering the containment area. Which was the biggest mistake of my life, as I went home for the night I couldn't stop thinking if my plan was going to work. I couldn't sleep all night, so right when the sun was up I hurried to the hospital. It was just me and my lead nurse who were at the hospital with the patients, and as we walked in everything seemed to be normal. However, every patient in the hospital was in a coma, and my heart sank. I sprinted to the containment area to see that all the walls were torn down and the floor was covered in the green goo. Ryans body was there in bed with a hole in his stomach with green spiders crawling out of his chest. My heart was racing, and I told the nurse to lock down the whole hospital. The buzzing noise was getting louder and louder, so I grabbed ear plugs for my ears, however the sound did not subside. Then it hit me. I asked the nurse if she could hear the buzzing sound too, but she had no idea what I was talking about. I was infected, I told the nurse to lock down the hospital and run. After she locked the whole place beside the front door I pushed her out and locked it with me inside. To Mr and Ms Linderbum I hope this finds you, not only is this a summary about your son's death it is why I am going to kill myself once I put this pen down.

Goodbye.

WEsley Hooker

Wesley Hooker is an 18-year-old senior at Savannah Country Day School and is a member of the varsity soccer team. Looking toward the future, Wesley plans to further his education at Pfeiffer University, where he intends to pursue a degree while continuing his soccer journey. Additionally, Wesley has chosen to participate in ROTC during college, with aspirations to serve his country in the Army. Beyond academics and athletics, he harbors aspirations of building a fulfilling personal life. He envisions starting a family by the age of 28 and owning his own home. Wesley aims to retire filthy rich at the earliest opportunity and embrace a life of leisure.

The Writings on the Walls

By Wesley Hooker

“Jojo, if you don’t hold up your end, we are going to drop the couch down the stairs again.”

“Just keep walking,” replied Jojo.

Finally, we made it to our fourth floor appartement of the Masrhall House and set the couch with the rest of the furniture in the middle of the room. “Now we can start on the wallpaper,” I said, knowing this was going to be another long day.

It had been about two months since we moved in, and the room still looked terrible. We hadn’t even started taking down the wallpaper, and by the look that Jojo was giving me, he was not happy with me for putting it off for so long, so we got to work. Jojo and I started taking down all of the ugly wallpaper: with rotting flowers and purple polka dots. The job was hard but also oddly satisfying, like pulling off a scab in one try. It had been about one week since we started, and I was seeing names and what looked like birth dates next to them. The names were written in what looked to be red ink, but I wasn’t really sure. As I peeled the wallpaper off, I could start to see some parts of the wallpaper turning translucent when the sun hit them just right, and some of the names were written bigger than others, which made me even more confused.

Later that day, I asked Jojo if he wanted to look into the names with me. A quick and unexpected response of “no thanks,” slapped me in the face.

I thought to pester him until he caved but instead I hopped on my computer and looked up one of the names. Next to the name it says ‘missing’, and the date matched what I thought were the birth dates. I tried another name, and then five more for good measure, but all of them were the same. At this point Jojo was looking over my shoulder, so I asked him what we should do, and we decided to call the police, but my phone was dead and his wasn’t going through. When we tried the hall phone, no one

picked up.

“Damn it.”

“What?” Jojo asked.

“It doesn’t matter.”

I forgot the phone lines had been down all day because of our dumb neighbor who thought, “Oh, who needs a handyman? I can fix it.”

The phone lines were still down the next day, but eventually, we got through to the police with our crappy old hall phone. When the cops arrived at our room, we showed them the walls and ceiling. They instantly recognized some of the names, like Jack Ford, Kelly Johnson, and Kerk Beesly, and told us not to touch anything. Then, they told us that one of the names on the ceiling was in a really recent missing persons file. Next, they called a crime scene detective and the crime lab investigation team, the guys who wear bodysuits.

We heard a knock on the door. “There they are,” one of the officers exclamed.

The lab team quickly set up a little base in our room and got to work. First, they examined the walls, while what felt like hours passed by. Stepping back out of the tent to look over the wallpaper, but after examining the wallpaper for a minute or two, they ran right back into the tent. During that time, the detective asked Jojo, and I a few questions “so when did you start seeing these names, and do you know who wrote them?”

They also asked if we knew any of the people on the walls. The detective then asked the owner of the Marshall House to come in and look at the names. “Hey, that's funny. I know all of these names, these are all people who stayed in this building dating all the way back to when I was just a boy and my father ran the building.”

“Man, I wonder what’s taking the lab team so long,” says Jojo.

“Yeah, same,”

Before I could finish my sentence, one of the lab team members came out of the tent to talk to the officers.

Jojo and I, eavesdropping on their conversation, overheard one of the men say, “Yep, just as we thought. It’s human. Before I could finish my sentence, one of the lab team members came out of the tent to talk to the officers. Jojo and I, eavesdropping on their conversation, overheard one of the men say, “Yep, just as we thought. It’s human.” I quickly jumped into the conversation, “What’s human?”

Without even replying, all the lab team members did was point to the wallpaper. Jojo and I exchanged nervous glances. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly turned chilling, and the walls covered in mysterious names had become an enigma wrapped in this eerie, unsettling silence. The detective returned to us, his face etched with concern, "You say you haven't touched any of this before today?"

We both nodded, our hearts pounding like drumbs in our chests. The detective's gaze remained fixed on the names painted on the walls and ceiling. He took a deep breath, a sense of dread hanging heavy in the air. "Just to be safe," he began, "we'll need you two to come with us down to the station for some questioning."

As we left the room, my thoughts were racing. Who could have done this? And why? The names on the wallpaper now seemed to be more than just random scribbles. They were people who had lived in the same house, same floor. What had happened to them?

At the police station, the questions were relentless. The detectives wanted to know everything about the room, our neighbors, and if we'd ever noticed anything strange before. Our lives had suddenly become a dark mystery that we couldn't escape. The investigation continued for days. We were interviewed multiple times, shown photographs of missing persons, and asked if any of them looked familiar. To our relief, none of the people pictured were familiar. But that raised another unsettling question: Were these names the people who lived there before us? Meanwhile, the lab team's findings were causing quite a stir. They had carefully removed portions of the wallpaper and found traces of blood and teeth beneath.

The notion that this was human flesh made my own skin crawl. The room had suddenly transformed from a mundane apartment into a nightmarish crime scene.

One evening, while Jojo and I were back in our room, trying to make sense of it all, a familiar face appeared on the local news. It was our neighbor, the one who had caused the phone lines to go down.

The reporter spoke soberly about how he had gone missing, last seen in the vicinity of the Marshall house and E Broughton St walking into Leopold’s. Panic swept over us. We knew this wasn't a coincidence.

The police decided to intensify their investigation, bringing in forensic experts to analyze the DNA found in the wallpaper. Rumors began to circulate in our small town. Whispers of a sinister presence lurking in the shadows of the Marshall House and a curse that had haunted the building for generations. We felt like characters in a horror movie, trapped in a room with walls that held a terrible secret.

The day finally arrived when the forensic results came back. The wallpaper contained DNA from multiple individuals. This discovery only deepened the mystery, leaving us with more questions than answers. Who were these people? What had happened to them? And most importantly, was the culprit still among us, hidden in plain sight?

As the investigation continued, paranoia and fear gripped the city. The atmosphere grew more nerve-wracking with each passing day, and Jojo and I couldn't help but wonder if our lives were in danger, and if we needed to get out before one of us was skinned alive like those before us. Undecided on what to do I layed down for a nap while Jojo went out with his girlfriend, but woke to an excruciating pain but for a split second I noticed something familiar “Wait, I have that same tattoo,” I thought, admiring what turned out to be my own old sack of skin that once kept me warm.

The Beautiful sport

By Wesley Hooker

In the heart of the field, where dreams take flight, A game of passion, under the sun's warm light. With every kick, the world comes alive, In this beautiful game, where talents thrive.

Soccer, a dance of grace and might, Players weaving, under the stadium's bright. The ball, a symbol of unity and pride, In this enticing sport where teams collide.

From Messi's dribble to Ronaldo's strike, Legends emerge, to everyones delight. A goal, a moment of pure elation, In the game that unites every nation

The cheers of the crowd, the roar and song, In the stadium where heroes belong.

Soccer, a symphony of sweat and skill, A beautiful game that gives us a thrill.

Robert Spaulding IV

Robert Spaulding IV is an eighteen year old young man born and raised in Savannah, Ga. He grew up under the beliefs of independence, civility, and the love of Jehovah. Rob is currently a senior at Savannah Country Day and has been going there since the 4th grade. He is undecided on his college decision, however he knows he wants to pursue his basketball career while studying something dealing with business. Also, while in college Rob hopes to pick up some cool hobbies such as learning how to cook or starting a podcast to generate extra money for him to have. The inspiration for these activities derive from him watching both cooking videos and podcasts which really sparks his interest. Lastly, Rob would like to thank Mrs. Floyd for an adventurous year because it really helped broaden his horizon in terms of visiting places he typically would not.

Sincere Thoughts

By Rob Spaulding IV

We visit Levy’s to grab a diamond

The aura of the place is like the sunset on the island

The soothing and smooth waves of Tybee are a rejoice That creates a loud silence of noise

The voices we hear from Factors Are one of the main attractors

Of visioning the spirit we obtain

Which determines our status or fame

Our haunted hopes shed a thin line between the ropes

To which path we take

For as long as we live I wonder

Will there still be a place to yonder

Distressed Sleep

By Rob Spaulding IV

Through the night we sleep

Praying our dreams come true

When our dreams don't though Our faces tend to become blue

We feel like our dreams are dead When in doubt we’re in our heads Therefore we should stop the doubt And not let the outcome be a drought

Photo by Rohan Patel

Kurt Kelly

Kurt Kelly has lived in Savannah throughout his whole life. Kurt enjoys going on the boat, hanging out with friends, and playing with his two dogs, Lady and Rosie. His favorite unit this year was the unit on the Midnight In the Garden of Good and Evil. He plans to attend Georgia Southern after highschool and major in Business.

By Kurt Kelly

Southern style and autumn leaves, A city with beautiful trees, Vibrant history with a rich past, A city that will never come in last, New adventures everyday, Nurturing city where I wish to stay, A river right outside of my house, Happiness will forever sprout!

Savannah Acrostic Poem

Photo by Charlie Bernstein

Tourist Stop Review

By Kurt Kelly

The Mercer Williams house is a staple of Savannah's history. It is prevalent for both its elegant beauty and the historical past that comes with it. It has exotic furniture, a winding staircase, a lovely garden, and different portraits dating back to generations. I would give it 4.5/5 stars because we could not tour the whole house. I recommend this spot to anyone who enjoys Savannah history or just likes to tour nice houses. However, before visiting, reading the book is a must so you know the historical background of the house.

The house was built for Johnny Mercer's great-grandfather but was later restored by preservationist Jim Williams. It holds a lot of different types of antiques from various European countries. Due to the famous murder of Danny Hansford by Jim Williams in the book "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil," the location has gained prominence as a good tourist destination. The house/museum is usually open to the public on weekdays. It is located at 429 Bull Street, a close walk from River Street and Monterey Square. My favorite room is definitely the study on the left side of the house because it shows you where Danny Hansford was shot by Jim Williams. I also enjoyed looking at the room with all the different animal types. Overall, the Mercer Williams house is a big part of Savannah's history and should be visited by anyone who reads the book.

Charlie Bernstein

Charlie Bernstein is a senior at Country Day, he is attending Elon University next school year to major in finance. At Elon, he plans on joining a fraternity and playing intramural lacrosse. His passions are boating, clash of clans, and fishing. His favorite part of senior year at Country Day is taking part in the school's inaugural Literary Savannah class and setting the precedent for future students that Mrs. Floyds's LitSav class is the best English class to take.

A Nightmares Awakening

By Charlie Bernstein

In the heart of Savannah, Georgia, lies the famous Bonaventure cemetery. Buried in thick ominous moss and the haunting of a once Plantation is now a grand cemetery. Late one summer night Rylie, a photographer was at the cemetery documenting all of the different grave sites when she stumbled upon a grave of one of her ancestors. She creeped up to the stone and murmurs whispered in the air and a shadowy figure creeped up behind her. Scared, she jumped up and distanced herself. The figure however introduced itself as Nathaniel a distant relative killed during Shermans March on Savannah. Nathaniel brought Rylie to a large live oak tree near his grave and showed her to a hidden door into the ground. The two walk down to find a dark, cold concrete room covered in chests. Nathaniel explains that these chests are filled with the lost gold of Christopher Colombus but if opened the protectors of the underworld would wreak havoc on Savannah. Rylie tells Nathaniel that she must be getting home as it is late and her curfew is midnight. She reassures him that she wont open the chests even if it means a certain fortune. The next day at St. Vincents, Rylie tells her best friend Maya all about her encounter with her long lost ancestor and the treasure awaiting. The two agree to meet at the cemetery at night to look at the treasure. At the cemetery and walking into the treasure trove Rylie warns Maya not to touch any of the chests but driven by greed and curiosity she pulls one of the chests open. Next a swarm of red flies pour out knocking both girls to the ground. Nathaniel appears, mad about the situation the flies disperse the bunker and begin wreaking havoc on the surroundings. “What have you done” Nathaniel Exclaims. Those flies carry the once eradicated black plague and all they have to do is get near you to transmit it. Rapidly dispersing into the air and heading towards downtown, cars are crashing and people falling sick to the ground. Nathaniel describes the mayhem that the girls just created solely based off of their curiosity and

greed.

The only way to stop the spread of the flies is to deliver one of the chests to the site of where Columbus’s ship sunk off the coast of Savannah. The girls grab the smallest chest in the bunker and drag it to the car. On the way to Mayas house they see the chaos unfolding thousands of people around Savannah already succumbed to the virus. Because Maya and Rylie have Nathaniel with them they have an immunity to the virus. Running through Mayas house they discover the bodies of her family sitting still at the dinner table, faces bruised black and hair fallen off. Rylie grabs Maya sobbing on the floor and they rush to the backyard where Maya has a dock with two Jet-Skis waiting. They load the chest onto one and rush off with Nathaniel flying over the water next to them. Down the Savannah River they cruise, with shipwrecks, boats aground, and houses on fire they push the Jet skis to the limits to get to the shipwreck site as quick as possible. Alerts sounding on their phones as the government issues lockdowns and shelter in places as nobody knows what has hit coastal Georgia. Suddenly, a ten legged sea monster emerges on the horizon coming right for them and fast. The monster rips Maya off her Jet Ski and dismembers her body right in front of Rylie. Nathaniel morphs into an even scarier figure and battles the monster. Rylie has just enough time to drop the cargo right over the ship and the monsters seemingly disappear. Rylie, terrified feels a tap on the shoulder and finds herself sitting in her bed at home with her parents hovered over her.

“It was all a dream?” Rylie asks frightened. “What was all a dream?” her mom asks.

“Maya died after being eaten by a sea monster”.

“Honey, maya died five years ago after falling onto the train tracks” her mom says. The next day at school there is no Maya and there is nothing out of the ordinary. Riley however cant accept that this was only a nightmare. She develops an eating disorder and gets constant anxiety attacks. She agrees to meet with the schools counselor to voice whats been going on.

He listens to her talk and prescribes her medication to help with her anxiety. Later that day she revisits Bonaventure cemetery and goes looking for her ancestors grave. She goes to the spot but its not there. Frantically searching the cemetery, she finds nothing.

“The tree, the tree” She says. She runs to the tree and searches its base but she finds nothing. It was all a dream. It was never real.

Greed Turns Glory

By Charlie Bernstein

It is in the heart of Savannah that John Brown sets his sights on a fresh out of law school diploma clutched in hand. Sheer ambition coupled with insatiable greed ready to serve the cities weak at their most vulnerable times. John had always taken shortcuts throughout his life especially while in law school preparing for the bar. The night before the bar he snuck into the lecture hall and took pictures of the bar exam enabling him to know what the questions would be so he could only study the answers instead of gathering a broad knowledge of the judicial system in place in the United States.

John believes in the saying time is money. He saw settling many cases for little amounts of money as more beneficial to him than taking big cases to court and fighting for what his clients deserve from their accidents. This sleazy tactic is used particularly with the low income communities because they do not have the money to fight a case for a extended period of time so taking the quick money is their only option as big insurance companies will drag cases out for months and even years to discourage having to pay out their full sum that is owed to the victims of these accidents. Hard times people deserving much more than what John is able to get them are blinded to the possibility of more lots of time due to a lack of knowledge about the legal system and that there are people who will lie to your face about their true intentions especially when the matter involves money. At the end of the day when people see easily available money their greed compels them to do things that otherwise they might frown upon. What we should be asking ourselves is why do people feel entitled to what other people are owed? Why when an NFL player signs a big contract do all of his friends and family stick their hands out as if they somehow worked for that money. Why does the masked man at night feel it is easier to take the wallet of the older woman than it is to get a legitimate job. Plenty of people are hiring but at the end of the day it is human nature to be greedy and lazy.

With no office, no employees, and no reputation attracting clients is difficult but many are desperate for legal representation. Johns first client is a man named Marcus Smart who recently had a slip and fall at his workplace after they failed to correctly put a sign indicating that the floor was wet and had just been washed. He sustained a broken collarbone and two cracked ribs from the fall after plummeting down fifteen feet of stairs. He has a legitimate claim against the company and could be entitled to hundreds of thousands of dollars. He hired John Brown after meeting him in a bar and claiming that he is a legitimate successful attorney and will get him all the money he deserves. John calls up the insurance company and agrees to settle for a small amount of money so he can gain his commission and move on to the next unsuspecting client. Marcus, struggling to pay his rent takes the settlement check with gratitude as he has no other option but to be put out on the streets. Desperate times call for desperate measures and Marcus needs the money fast which blinds him from thinking that he could maybe get a better result with a different lawyer. Hard on times people such as Marcus are exactly what the crooked John Brown wants to come to him seeking his services. The sad things about what John is doing is that it isn't even illegal it's simply just unethical because he is preying on people at their lowest point. John goes on with his illustrious scheme for many years with many unsuspecting clients.

Eventually, word gets out among the community that John was not looking in his clients best interest and his past clients are furious.

“You're a dirty liar!” Said one woman.

“You're gonna pay for this” Said a disabled man.

“I'm gonna hurt you” said the tall mysterious looking man. The rumors got all around Savannah and clients were becoming few. Forced with a dire situation of working hard in the interest of his clients or remaining as is with the little desperate clients he can find, John has to cut back on his lifestyle. Foregoing a membership at the Savannah Golf Club, trading in his Mercedes

for a more economical Prius. These changes were hard for a man who knew only a life of opulence sponsored by the tragic events happening in the workplace for many struggling people. Not only are his problems financial but they are coming in the form of threats on his life. Fearing for his safety, he takes an apartment outside of downtown and dedicates much time to his greatest hobby of fishing. Hobbies such as fishing are a great way to relax and forget about what's going on in your life. The threats keep coming in and the straw that broke the camel's back was when his past client Marcus Smart showed up at his door late at night and drunk out of his mind.

“You Screwed me over!” Marcus said

“Marcus go home” said John

“Im gonna kill you” said Marcus

John is forced to call the police to mediate the situation.

Barricaded in his bathroom anxiously waiting for their arrival

Marcus breaks into the apartment. In a state of rage he breaks almost everything in his path on the way to the bathroom door. Beating down the bathroom door sirens pull into the parking lot

“Marcus Smart come out with your hands up” shouted the police officer.

Marcus drops the bat and surrenders himself to the police guns drawn in the parking lot. An officer clears the apartment and assures John it is safe to come out. A once clean apartment now a sight of destruction. Overloaded with fear John has one of the officers take him to the nearby waffle house on Presidents street to calm himself down. Having coffee with the nice police officer that just saved his life, the cop is curious.

“Why did he want to hurt you?” Said the cop.

“I took advantage of him,” says John.

The two go on for a little over an hour about the scheme that John has curated to feed his desires and the officer asks

“What do you really love doing?”

“Fishing” says John.

“Why don't you make something out of it then?” said the cop

This led John to think why don't I start a fishing charter business? Make money doing what I am passionate about. And so Brown Fishing Charters was created with the purchase of John's new thirty two foot Intrepid Nomad. Finally, at peace not worrying about people coming for him for his shady business dealings in the courtroom and truly being able to express himself. One day, a dad and his twenty four year old daughter named Elle who lives at the landings come looking for a day fishing trip and John jumps at the opportunity to take them. He immediately is awestruck by the beauty of the man's daughter and they quickly form a connection.

By the time the day is winding down and it is about ready to head back in, John builds up the courage to ask Elle if she would be interested in potentially going out for coffee sometime. She agrees and the two go over to Java Burrito the following day. The spark is there and they talk for hours about their pasts and what they have gone through. John, scared she will be turned away by his shady past is hesitant but she draws it out of him and accepts him for being a changed man. Months down the road the spark is still there and John proposes. Elle says yes and the two get married. Soon, welcoming in twin boys it seems that John's life has taken a turn for the better and can live in good conscience with a job he loves, wife he loves, and two twin boys driving him to succeed.

Oliver Byrne

Oliver Byrne has lived in Savannah for most of his life and has attended Country Day for the majority of that time. He enjoys art, movies, and music. He plans to go to SCAD for film, and while he does have a soft spot for Savannah he will likely depart from the South after his education there. Only time will tell.

Forsyth Park

by Oliver Byrne

Your leaves pad my steps into the known.

Your blades of grass point towards the non existent goal

I lie in you without a care

While your fountain may not foster eternal youth, it does make me remember mine

Timeless and trapped simultaneously

Me and you

Like an ant in the agora

The great cherished sublime

Pearls before swine

The people surround you

but they understand not

Endless with an end

Nameless with a name

Nature’s bandaid on the body of urban chaos.

We forget how little green we see.

Can I not exist in you without even experiencing you at all?

Would that be a waste?

You could not be a waste if you tried

And I could not waste in you

The body that stands nowhere

Let me slide my hands through yours

If I left I would lose myself

Not God I Fear

by Oliver Byrne

In a small village, roughly 15 miles outside of Savannah, Father Wilkes secures his collar looking at his reflection on the lake. The sky reflects an ashy gray onto the freezing water. He stands and walks toward a burning caravan with charred corpses spilling out the door. He pats a horse still bound to its reins and singed from the fire. He pulls a piece of fruit from his coat and feeds the horse, caressing its mane. With a fluid motion he pulls a knife from his pack and slices the reins. He flings himself on the horse causing it to buck and start for the woods. He rides through the forest on the outskirts of the village, ducking under branches as he listens to the crunch of leaves below him. The forest ground behaved like a frozen wave, hills and valleys abound. The pines were dry and grayed. He rides for a mile, coming to a clearing on the other side of the village. Wilkes, intent on avoiding suspicion, calmly guides his horse over to the main road. The village called Silverlake, beside the sign is an old decrepit man with a cloak of rags and a callous face.

“What went you out into the wilderness to find?”

“You may refer to me as father.”

“Father, what went you out into the wilderness to find?”

“Trouble me no further old man. You are idle of your work, pray God shows you mercy.”

The old man laughs, Wilkes shows visible confusion. The old man lifts his rags and reveals his hands, of which he has none.

“It is not God that I fear, Father. There are beasts beyond your comprehension, beasts that roam where you flagrantly gallivanted. These are not the creatures of the lord.”

“I thank thee for thy tall tale, old man. Though you might deserve shame for it. The only beast in these lands is you. All the same, I wish you a good morrow.” Father Wilkes begins to ride away, turning his back on the man.

“It is not God that I fear, Father. There are beasts beyond your comprehension, beasts that roam where you flagrantly gallivanted. These are not the creatures of the lord.”

“I thank thee for thy tall tale, old man. Though you might deserve shame for it. The only beast in these lands is you. All the same, I wish you a good morrow.” Father Wilkes begins to ride away, turning his back on the man.

“God will not hear your prayers, and you will return.”

“The only prayers I shall do are prayers of your absence.”

“You are not a priest! Go on now! And while you shall make haste you will be back under the guise of night.”

“I am a priest! I will not return to this godforsaken place.” With that, Wilkes rides off through the crisp autumn morning. The old man gives a ghoulish smile and dips his stumps into the mud on the road as it begins to drizzle. With one fell swoop the old man lifts his arms above his head and breathes a flame onto his severed hands. He brings his hands to his lap, and they start to grow from the ash. The rain washes away the embers and dust, revealing the haggard palms of an elderly man.

“A terrible shame to leave on All Hallow’s Eve.” The man cackles, while walking away from the post and into the woods. He trudges through the muck and breathes through the mist. The trees seem to gradually lean away from the man as if shuddering in unison. The man walks far into the woods, halting at a ceremonial circle. Around the circle are three stone platforms, each supporting their own jack-o-lantern. As the man reaches the center, the Pumpkins rise. Each one has a long flowing mantle that drags on the ground even as they hover at twelve feet. The lanterns are merely heads, and their blackened vestigial limbs are covered by their white robes.

“Go on!” The old man yells. The creatures hastily glide over the forest floor. The man disappears into thin air. The creatures find their way to the main road, attempting to catch up with Father Wilkes. Father Wilkes was on his way to Savannah and had no intention of slowing. He planned to make his way to the port and find himself a job on one of the frigates. He had never been a priest, and he certainly didn’t intend to die one. The creatures, though not aerodynamic in the slightest, had made their way to Wilkes in no time. They fly upright and without use of limb, almost moving by sheer force of will.

They can see Wilkes roughly 300 yards ahead riding alongside a stagecoach. They begin to increase speed, going prone and using their arms to push themselves forward. They dig their shriveled claws into the gravel and kick off with their feet, lunging forward at Wilkes. One of the creatures maintains the same velocity as Wilkes, who fails to see anything in his peripheral. The creature slides its hands around Wilkes and tosses his flailing body into the stagecoach. Wilkes lands bottom down on the wagon and his left leg slides into a splintered board. The entirety of his calve is separated from his tibia and hangs loose at the femur. Blood spurts violently onto the occupants of the stagecoach. One being a plantation owner, the other his wife. As the plantation owner and his wife find their screaming mouths filled with blood, Wilkes pulls his tattered sinew away from the board and shrieks in pain. Another creature clasps Wilkes’ head of hair and sends him flying into the mud. Wilkes sprawls out in the puddle. The rain sends a spike of pain with every droplet. The three creatures crowd around him and pick him up by his hands and legs, raising him supine. One of the creatures lifts his injured leg only to

yield another screech of pain. In a graceful motion, the creature slides his leg into his mouth and bites down successfully. Wilkes’ eyes go white from shock and his body goes limp. The creatures pull him back toward the forest along the path. Abandoning the stagecoach and the blood soaked racists.

In no time, the creatures arrive back at the ceremonial circle carrying Wilkes’ body, cautiously lowering him on the rocks. It is only then that the old man reappears, where he kneels hunched and cackling at the sight. Wilkes’ crumpled body sits motionless. The old man snaps his fingers, and gone is the body of Wilkes. He awakes in hell. Burning for eternity, and once more, he is greeted by the old man.

Helen Kenney is a senior and has attended Savannah Country Day since 5th grade. She has grown up in Isle Hope her entire life. During her time at SCDS, she was on the volleyball and track and field teams and was involved in the TREE and One Love clubs. Outside of school, she loves to swim, hang out with friends and family, and travel. She has two cats, Harry and Frankie, who she loves to hangout with. She enjoyed Savannah Literary class and has learned so much about the place she grew up around. Her favorite field trip in the class was the ghost tour.

Helen Kenney

Isle of Burnt Pot

Helen Kenney

As I sat in the running car I impatiently started to tap my foot. I looked around with my twitching eyes to see what the hell took my kids so long to get in the car. I honk the car hoping my children will get my signal to hurry up. My wife gives me a look and asks me to be patient. “But it's already getting late! I was hoping to leave hours ago.” Finally, they come rushing out holding over filled bags with unimportant items spilling out into a trail on the ground. Quickly they picked them up off the dirty sidewalk, and my eyes began to bulge with stress. Stuffed into the car with all of their unnecessary crap, Sandy and Wills begin arguing and complaining. In the rearview mirror I can see the reflection of Sandy’s face pressed hard against the window, staring into the abyss and scowling at the outside world. As I drive through the neighborhood of Ardsley Park I witness the true state of Savannah. I point to the canopy of the old live oak trees and marvel at the faded Victorian houses. Wills seems amused but Sandy has now closed her eyes completely. She seems as if she's lost in her own world and nothing can pull her out.

As we enter the neighborhood of Isle Hope, the beauty is breathtaking. I drive toward the gates of the Wemberly dock and park the car. All of us practically throw ourselves out of the car except for Sandy. It’s obvious she doesn't want to be here.

“Come on Sandy, we are here, I know you don't want to go camping but this will be a good family bonding time” I say knowing my relationship with my daughter hasn't been the best recently.

I planned the two-day camping trip to Burnt Pot Island, for

the four of us to have and family that camps together is closer and makes for a chance to build long lasting memories. Perfect!

“Fine” Sandy says as she rolls her eyes and slowly scoots out of her seat.

After far too many trips from the parked car to the end of the dock carrying bags, coolers, tents, chairs, we finally load up the boat and climb inside.

The sea salt breeze sprays us gently as the wind blows through our hair. This is going to be fun, I thought to myself. The day was unfolding exactly as I hoped. Sunshine, blue skies and my family.

What more could I ask for?

The boat ride over is only a couple of minutes because the island is just a mile or so off shore. Just like that we are out the hustle and bustle of our normal life and arriving on an island filled with nothing but nature. I anchored the boat and we unload all of our camping gear and began our hike through the thick brush of overgrown wildlife. I have a huge smile on my face as I hear wild birds screeching in the distance ahead. After multiple trips to the boat to carry all of the stuff we brought, I hear “Dad, my arms hurt! Can we please stop” Wills complains.

“Fine. Guess we will set up camp here” I say exasperated.

“Babe, the sun is already starting to set, we need to get our tents up fast” my wife states.

As quickly and efficiently as possible, I set up our tents and ordered the others to grab some wood to make a fire for our dinner. “Now this is living! “I tell the kids. “No tv, no cell service, just us and the natural world.” They groan out loud. “Fire wood” I yell.

The brush was thick but luckily it was abundant with plenty of libs and logs. While lifting a large limb, something stung me on my nose and it burnt like a fire. Perhaps because it was on my nose I was imagining things, but it smelt like something had crawled into my nose and died. I could not escape this smell. After taking a few steps away, I see it, a half-decomposed body of a deer. That was the smell, not the sting on my nose. I head back to

That was the smell, not the sting on my nose. I head back to camp with a swollen nose and an arm full of limbs. “I got stung”

The battery powered lamps are on and my wife is searching for the first aid kit that she promised me she brought. I am begging to have doubts, but nonetheless, we are to escape the realities of our life. Sting or no sting.

“Dad, I want to go home.” Sandy mutters to me, uncomfortable with our eerie surroundings. “ I don't like this place.”

“Sandy, sweetheart, it’s going to be okay, just let me get this fire started and a hot dog in your stomach, then you’ll be begging to stay forever!” I say cheerfully. “Have you ever roasted a hot dog over a fire ?” I stuck her weeny on the end of a stick and handed it to her. I see a slight smile as she watches the hot dog sizzle in the fire. “That smells good.” Wills said. The darkness envelopes the forest, and we sit around the fire, roasting marshmallows and making smores. The kids seem happy enough. My wife and I smile at each other. We did it! We took our family camping. Will wants to hear some scary campfire stories.

We gathered around the fire with our hot cocoa my wife brought against my will. I am glad she did though because it was perfect on a chilly night sitting by a fire on an island in the middle of the sea. I had listened to a podcast about Burnt Pot Island before our trip and had learned some very interesting tories about this place. It was a place where they brought the dead from the yellow fever pandemic and burned their bodies long ago. I shared some historical things I learned, but not the part about the burning of bodies. It was late and we all agreed to go to bed. We had a full day planned tomorrow. Exploring the island, fishing, and hopefully eyeing some of those wild birds we heard while hiking in. It takes everyone a while to finally go to sleep, and just as I start to drift into sleep I am jolted awake by the sound of the zipper on our tent being tugged. My eyes widen, my heart racing and fear fills my body. I jump up out of my sleeping bag and grab the lid to our cooler to protect my family. I waited, my heart thumping for whatever or whoever was there and yet it never came. There was

nothing. No sound. No movement. No shadows. Absolutely nothing. My now alert eyes searched every inch of our cluttered tent nd to my disbelief there was only the sound of my sleeping family. I zip the tent back up and bend over to tuck the kids into their bags happy that everyone was safe. I reach down and touch Will's head , and lean over to do the same to Sandy. Terror! Sandy wasn't there. I began throwing things in the tent looking to make sure she hadn't been sleeping under the piles of stuff. Sandy was missing.

In a mad rush I unzip the tent and I can see Sandys silhouette walking towards the marsh and I scream out to her " Sandy what are you doing?” She doesn't answer and continues walking away from me and the tent. She's about half way between the tent and the water. I begin sprinting through the maze of old oak trees with only the light from stars and moon lighting my way. I trip on some old roots and fall forward into the ground. My face landed on the hard mud, and I can feel the sting on my nose again. I am yelling my daughter's name over and over. I make my way to my feet and begin running toward her. She is closer to the freezing cold water now, and all I can do is scream “Sandy! Stop!”

My heart is pounding, and with every heartbeat I can feel it in my nose. I taste blood on my lips and I am sure my nose is broken. I am running as fast as I can but it’s too late. Sandy had made it to the river before me, I can see her body floating downwards in the body of water. I run full speed into the water, and my body stings from the penetration of the freezing cold water. I swim over to my daughter. “Sandy? Sweetheart? It’s Dad!” I grab her and pull her close to me. I drag her to shore and prepare to give her mouth to mouth resuscitation. I flip her limp body over on the banks of the river and scream at the terror my eyes witness. Long gone was my innocent daughter, instead her face translucent and her eyes were black as the night.

“Sandy! What the hell! This better not be a prank.” I am in shock, am I dreaming. I must be dreaming, I tell myself. I slowly back away and I am trying to convince myself this is not

real when I see large black thorny vines slithering out her mouth. The vines wrap around my wrists and my ankles tying me in place. I urgently begin to yell for help but it’s no use, Vines are in my mouth now. It’s the middle of the night and I am in the middle of nowhere. The vines twist and coil around my neck slowly dragging me to the large smoldering hole in the ground. “This is why it's called Burnt Pot” I could hear a voice say, and everything turned black.

Savannah is like fresh air

An escape from reality

With Various places to go

Among this city

I caN do whatever I please Swim iN the river,

TAke long walks with family,

OH how fun life here is!

Cora Garola

Cora Garola is a senior at Country Day and has lived in Savannah her whole life. She loves going on the boat, shopping, and spending time with friends and family. In the fall, she plans to attend Georgia Southern. After college, she plans to spend lots of time traveling. She has two cats and a dog that she loves so much. She also loves Savannah and writing about the beautiful city she lives in.

An Ode to Savannah

By Cora Garola

Oh river, How lovely you are. Your streams carve into our land

Watched over by The Waving Girl. She supervises you flowing into our city

Greeting ships as they arrive and saluting them as they leave.

Your murky water gleams in the sun like a thousand clean pennies.

Tourists walk along your side every day

Looking over you in awe.

You are a destination for many But you are also home for manySavannians drive along your side every day

From Isle of Hope through Thunderbolt all the way to Wilmington Island.

Whether from here or there, You are adored by all.

Your beauty at sunset, how lovely you are.

Oh river, How lovely you are.

Literary Savannah is a place-based learning experience that examines Savannah through the eyes of the great writers who have lived in, loved, and shaped the beautiful city we call home. Students sharpen their critical thinking skills, explore different creative writing forms, and capture a piece of Savannah for themselves as they become members of Literary Savannah.