The Selinsgrove Literary-Arts Journal Spring 2018
Night and Day By Ciera Zacek
This Journal is in Honor Of:
Helen Marie Thomas English Teacher & Literary Magazine Sponsor
The object of Art is to give life a shape. -William Shakespeare
Table of Contents Night and Day …………………………… Front Cover Ciera Zacek
Stardust ………………………..……….………………… 1 Jennifer Roan
Supernatural Sunrise ……………….………………… 2 Kevin Straub
Creepy Creature …………………….…………………
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Nahava Neilson
Deep in the Woods ………..……….…………………
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Nahava Neilson
Athelia ………………………..……….……..…………… 5 Eric Ressler
Fleur Lune ………………………..….……..…………… 8 Ciera Zacek
Untitled ……………………..……….……..…………… 11 Justin Mummey
Nature ……………………..……….……..……………
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Kaeley Blair
Growing Down …………………….……..…………… 13 Maegan Bogetti
Kohen Lynch ………………..…….……..……………
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Nahava Neilson
Hidden Worth ………………..…….……..…………… 15 Gwen Zeiders
Pretty Type ………………..……….……..…………… 16 SarahMae Toth
Untitled …………………………….…………………… 16 Kayla Yataco
´ Melancolie de Voyage ………………...……………
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Maegan Bogetti
Lost ………………………………….…………………… 18 Kayla Yataco
Traffic Light …………………..….……………………
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Ciera Zaceck
A Letter to the Boy Who Holds My Heart …….… 19 SarahMae Toth
Inspiration ………………………………………..….… 20 Gwen Zeiders
Dusky Barn ……………………….…….……………… 21 Kevin Straub
Untitled …………………………….…………………… 22 Colby Hoover
The Underground Bookstore ……………………… 23 Isaiah Roberts
Fire and Ice ……………………….…………………… 28 Kevin Straub
Leafy Embrace …………..……….…………………… 29 Kevin Straub
Admittance ………….…………….…………………… 29 Maegan Bogetti
Wakeful Perch ……..…………….…………………… 30 Kevin Straub
What I felt ……..………….……….…………………… 31 Kayla Yataco
The Divide ……..…………….……………….………… 32 Kevin Straub
Untitled ……..………………..……………….………… 32 Anonymous
The Miracle Girl ……..………….………….………… 33 Elizabeth Dock
Untitled ……………………………….………………… 35 Anonymous
Walking in a Winter Wonderland ……..……….… 35 Kevin Straub
Qualms ………………………….…….………………… 36 Maegan Bogetti
Sunset at McKee’s ………………..…………………
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Kevin Straub
Untitled ………..…………………….…………………
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Anonymous
My Friend …………………..……….……..…………… 38 Dakota Durham
‘71 Hemi Cuda ……….………..….……..…………… 40 Jesse Bartusik
Ode to the Future ………….…….……..…………… 41 Anonymous
Snowy Cradle ………..…..……….……..……………
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Kevin Straub
Leaves ……………………………….……..…………… 42 Nahava Neilson
Untitled ………………..……..…….……..……………
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Anonymous
Flowers are Blue …………….………...……………
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Anonymous
Think of Me ……………………………...…………… Gwen Zeiders
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SLAJ …………………………..…………… Officers Page Ciera Zacek
Crescent Imperfections …………..…… Back Cover Kevin Straub
For submissions and membership information
please visit
The Selinsgrove Literary-Arts Journal website at https://sfrantz2.wixsite.com/slaj
or contact Shannon Frantz, Advisor, at sfrantz@seal-pa.org.
Stardust
By Jennifer Roan She was a creature made only of stardust. This doesn't make her special, everyone is made of stardust. She doesn't have a melodic voice that captures the attention of everyone else. In fact she doesn't talk much, when she does her voice is thickly accented with a speech impediment that most find annoying. She doesn't have flowing shiny hair, just a slightly frizzy mess. She doesn't have clear skin or a tiny nose. No glasses rest on her average nose, frizzy hair frames her sleepy oval face. She doesn't have galaxies trapped in her eyes. She isn't overly loud, or bubbly or outrageously intelligent. She isn't an amazing artist and she didn't get the lead when she auditioned for the play. She is made of stardust. This doesn't make her special but it doesn't mean she isn't. Her blend of accents and speech impediments makes for a hypnotic sound and she can go on for days about the places she's lived. Her frizzy hair looks adorable tied back in polka-dotted bow. Her sleepy eyes suit her healthy oval face and her nose wrinkles at the bridge when she smiles. Her blue grey eyes light up when she talks about the things she loves, or how bad the book adaption movie is. She has a personality all of her own, one that compliments anyone's. Maybe she can't paint but she looked adorable in her polka-dotted dress as an extra of the high school's production. She is an amazing cuddler and her laughter lights up any  room. If you don't know her she fades into the past, forgotten, but the moment she talks she leaves a gaping hole behind. She's smart, and beautiful, and kind, and lovely. She's herself in every possible way. She's not just made of stardust, she's a star that lights up the brightest of nights.
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Supernatural Sunrise By Kevin Straub 2
Creepy Creature By Nahava Neilson
One night deep, deep in the woods There was a creature no one could see After the sun had set there I stood It seemed to be waiting for me I walked closer to get a peek But it backed away in fear His figure was small, sleek, and dark He stood at the edge of the pier
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Deep in the Woods By Nahava Neilson
Once he saw me I had to flee I ran as fast as I could As far as the eye could see It growled knowing where I stood He continued to chase me I was trembling in fear No one was there to help me get free It was just him and I standing here He was almost ready to charge I was hiding behind a few trees His shadow was fierce and large Until he finally caught me
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Athelia
By Eric Ressler Every full moon, the fairies would open the doors to their tree houses, come outside into the Grove of Athelia and dance, spreading magic and peace under the moon light. Unfortunately, the location of the Grove of Athelia had been lost through the generations. Few humans believed it to be true.
One traveler had heard the legend as he passed through a town. Before leaving the inn, he made note of the calendar: the full moon would occur in a week and three days. The young traveler, named Lucelli, set out from the town. He traveled a week, but became lost in the deep forest outside of the town. Three nights passed after he lost the path, and he could not find it or any sight of other humans. He wandered the woods aimlessly, having given up hope of finding the town. Suddenly he thought of the Athelian legend. If he might find the fairies that night, he would be saved. After hours of fighting through the dense underbrush, Lucelli noticed that night was dawning, though he could not see the sky. Soon he could not see anything. He stumbled through the forest, hoping to see some shred of moonlight through the treetops. There was none… until he broke through the tree line, and stumbled into a clearing. The full moon shone down brightly, illuminating the clearing with an unearthly glow. He could not see past the trees on the other side, for they were thick. “Could this be the Grove of Athelia?” Lucelli asked himself. He studied the clearing. It was empty, except for one large rock, near the tree line to his right. The moonlight reflected off its ancient surface. Moss and lichen grew on its edges. Atop the rock, sitting under the glow of the full moon, was a fairy. 5
Its face was buried in its hands. It was crying. But when it heard Lucelli’s voice, it wiped its enormous eyes and looked at him. Lucelli gazed at the fairy’s face: it was a young, wide-eyed face, like that of a boy. But its eyes, its deep, venerable brown eyes, glistening with tears, were like nothing Lucelli had seen in all his wanderings. “A… human…” the fairy said, with disbelief in its voice. “I haven’t seen a human in a long time….” “You’re a fairy,” Lucelli said eagerly. The fairy ignored him. “You asked yourself about the Grove of Athelia.” “Yes! Is this it?” “The Grove of Athelia was cut down decades ago.” Lucelli was speechless. “You act surprised. I was, too, but many fairies were expecting something bad to happen after humans stopped coming to it. We figured they forgot about Athelia and our dance… we had no idea how right we were.” The fairy jumped off the rock and stood in front of Lucelli. He was about half of Lucelli’s size; from the moonlight Lucelli could see his cap with a feather. His clothes were obscure. The fairy continued his story. “None of that generation had seen a fairy. When they came to the Grove, we thought about introducing ourselves, but we wanted to see why they had come. They did not call out to us. They came with axes. We fled. They cut down Athelia, and built a monument to themselves. We thought about trying to stop them, but believed that they would violently resist. For we had heard tell from the beasts that they had become a violent people, prone to war. Indeed, their monument was erected to celebrate an unholy slaughter nearby.” “Where did you go then?” Lucelli inquired. For some reason, Lucelli was transfixed on the fairy’s story. “We seemed to be chased. Wherever we decided to dance was soon desecrated. Eventually, we reached this place, but some fairies have become bitter. They are angry at the humans,
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too hateful to dance. So there is talk of fighting against humans, and we have not danced. That is why I weep.” “That is a sad story. But why do I need to know?” “You don’t. But I needed to tell someone who hasn’t lived through it, for my own sake if not for theirs.” Lucelli’s transfixion on the story broke. “Again, it’s a sad story, but I have been lost for three days and scavenging just enough to survive, so I need some shelter and food. Please?” The fairy wiped his eyes of the last of his tears, and grew red in the face. “I am an imbecile!” he exclaimed. “Follow me.” He waved his fingers toward the tree line and briskly walked into the forest. “There is a spring where you may clean yourself. I will tell the fairy prince that we have a visitor.” The fairy bounded off towards a light in the forest. Lucelli found an arch that read “Gentle-males,” by the magic candle hung near it. It was the entryway to the bathhouse, which was surrounded by a wooden wall. The wall was decorated with plant carvings. There was a warm spring that filled an ornately chiseled stone bath. Neatly folded linens sat near the water’s edge, also close to magic candles that did not burn fire. A rug was laid in front of the bath tub on the forest floor. He closed the wooden door behind him. As Lucelli bathed, he pondered the fairies’ plight. He wanted the fairies to continue their joyous peace-dance, but he was just a traveler passing through the woods. He knew nothing about them. It was all too confusing. His thoughts were disrupted by the voice of the fairy he had met. “I’m going to throw the clothes over the wall. They’re old, because we haven’t had a human visit for a long time.” Lucelli dressed in the fairy garb: green trousers and a green buttoned jacket. He opened the door and stepped back into the forest. Suddenly, he felt a stinging pain as his stomach rumbled like an earthquake. The fairy waved him to follow. “The fairy prince is holding council now. Everyone but the council and the cook whom I woke and myself is asleep. Some in the council want to wage war against the humans to reclaim their former forests. Others want to settle this land, and completely separate themselves from hu-
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Fleur Lune By Ciera Zacek
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mans. The wise few want to leave this land and see if there are other humans that might be kind to us. I personally hope that we leave and make a new Athelia.” “You would leave?” “Yes.” “What about your history here?” “Our history that stretched thousands of years was destroyed with Athelia. Leaving would be the best option. We would not fight and die, and we would be much safer.” “Do you have a place in mind?” “I do not know. The council is deciding at this minute. Come. The cook has prepared you a meal.” Lucelli followed the fairy through the sleeping fairy camp. They had set up tents instead of houses, and Lucelli wondered how long they would stay. It seemed that there was an anxious feeling in the air. There was a clearing in the woods and large brown tents were set up for the fairies to eat under. Rough wooden chairs lined six very long tables in each tent. Closest to them, Lucelli saw a bowl full of salad next to a hearty soup. Lucelli sat and devoured the food. Then the fairy extended a blanket and spare pillow toward Lucelli, and offered him a spare tent to sleep in. “Thank you,” Lucelli said, and he was quickly wrapped in his blanket and asleep, weary from being in the unknown forest . The sun shone brightly into the clearing where Lucelli’s tent was. Lucelli was dimly aware of voices nearby. “Is this the human, Sir Kestrel?” “Yes, prince,” came the voice of the only fairy Lucelli knew. “Give him food and send him on his way. He cannot stay much longer. After all, we are not staying long either.” Lucelli became fully awake. “Wait!” he cried. “You’re leaving?” “Yes,” Kestrel said. “The prince declared it last night after
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much deliberation.”
“I am but a wanderer,” Lucelli said, with a strange longing to become friends with the fairies. “Can I come with you?” He asked without thinking. The prince laughed. “No, impulsive human. Stay here and spread our sad tale. Kestrel, let him keep his garb. We will no longer have need of human clothing. I bid you a safe, short trip back to the town. It really isn’t far.” The prince spun on his heel and walked away into the trees. “We are going to a place where there are other fairies. We will be far away from humans. It is no loss to us,” Kestrel said. How Kestrel knew exactly what he was going to ask, Lucelli would wonder for a long time. Kestrel led Lucelli out of the fairy camp, which was already being torn down and preparing to travel. “Remember us for the rest of your days, and tell your people about us,” Kestrel told him. “Remember that this grove was once inhabited by fairies.” Lucelli promised Kestrel that he would remember the time he spent lost, the time he met the fairies. Kestrel led him to the road, which led to a close town known for hot headed people. Lucelli continued his travel. As he meandered down the road through the wood, he reflected on the past events. He had met a wondrous people, for only a brief and sad time, at their lowest point. He wondered how glorious their dance was, and if he would ever see it. It could be lost forever. At the next inn, he was asked about where he had traveled to. “I have traveled to the mournful place of Athelia,” Lucelli said. “There were fairies, but they had been removed from their homeland and became refugees of stupid conquest. They had a heartbreaking story.” And a few at that inn believed him.
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Untitled
By Justin Mummey
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Nature
By Kaeley Blair The way the sky seems to fade, All of the colors blending together in a dark manner, No one can recreate what nature has made, The birds are in patterns that seem to make a banner. The raven caws above me in a way that resembles a screech, I feel as though the world is ending by this scene, The sudden morbid sight tempts me to ask the bird if life is out of reach, Memories like this are a rarity to be seen. I wish to float this world with ease, I don’t want to linger in the pain, I just want to be part of the seas, I can’t keep my powers in – I can’t refrain. The sky seems to mourn the loss of the day, The end was here and the sun now gave way.
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Growing Down By Maegan Bogetti
Where dust springs forth from the nostalgic flip of old book pages And onward steady is the pulsing beat emitted from the hands of a clock long forgotten to be wound back A room in which youth seemingly dwindled at a quicker pace than in the real world
Where tales passed down took the place of tantrums Where long paper chains stretched over rafters And playing pretend was a pretense, not a pastime Place where philos was first understood in practice, much before it was understood in definition A place stolen away
Stolen by romantic criminals with false intentions and foes with false identities Robbers hiding beneath the cloak of friendship's foolery A place stolen by occupation and emittance of morals A place that didn't seem to quite fit right anymore Bags of clothing long grown out of, toys scattered, long offered up for moth and rust to consume
Hearts grown even smaller Growing up as our hearts shrink down
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Kohen Lynch By Nahava Neilson
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Hidden Worth By Gwen Zeiders
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Pretty Type By SarahMae Toth
I know I’m not the pretty type. The type who runs 5 miles every morning before school and eats a salad every day. I don’t have silky blonde hair or a flat stomach with the perfect tan. I don’t know what flawless skin feels like and I don’t wear a pearl necklace even on my dress down days. But I’m me.
Untitled
By Kayla Yataco I'm the type of person people despise Because they think I'm unwise In their eyes it's all implied All they do is criticize People try to hear my cries But they don't want to analyze All they do is agonize Emphasize the stress I'm under, N' let it rise All they see in me is demise 16
MĂŠlancolie de Voyage By Maegan Bogetti
I should've fallen out of love by now With city nightscapes And unknown sidewalk chasers Foreign tongues and far away minds Should've lost the intoxication Left behind from looking down On top-heavy clouds Endless currents below Fear of falling and excitement of landing Anticipation of discovering Who you just might be on the other side I should be over the sadness of travel Should appreciate my experiences instead of mourning them But here I am Decimated Confused As the map guides me in one direction And the compass points me towards another And I am left Lost Looking for my place in a world Fighting to find a systematic fate Trying to decipher the language Of my heart Permanently bound to unreachable places Stuck wandering in a maze with no exit And a world with no given answer
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Lost
By Kayla Yataco I was always alone Because I got disowned I always felt pain It was like a stain It will never go away No matter how much I pray For me to be found On a merry-go-round But instead I get found on a stone With nothing but only bones I guess I wasn’t supposed to be made So instead I started to fade I guess I wasn’t worth any cost So I decided to get lost……..
Traffic Light By Ciera Zaceck 18
A Letter to the Boy Who Holds My Heart By SarahMae Toth
I will always choose to torture myself with your “love� rather than the love I deserve. I will always choose to belittle myself by being with you. I will always choose to lower my self-esteem by accepting you each time you drop my heart and come crawling back. And I cannot wait for the day that you can drop my heart, And it will not hurt. 19
Inspiration By Gwen Zeiders
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Dusky Barn By Kevin Straub
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Untitled
By Colby Hoover 22
The Underground Bookstore By Isaiah Roberts
Before the War, there was books and entertainment. There was life and wonder in the world. Everywhere you looked, you could see green as far as the eye could see. Then near the end of the War, someone, somewhere pushed the button. And nuclear bombs were dropped. ALL state capitals and major cities were hit. No one is quite sure what happened the day the world blew up. All I know is that the world was left without order. I have heard rumors that it was Russia and their allies. Or the United States and their allies launched the bombs. Or some other county. Some survivors formed a small community. In bunkers, of course. Now this bunker was finished around the year 2135. The builder was Jerry Green. Now Mr. Green’s father, Jonathan Green grew up in the Cold War Era. A time where nuclear weapons were just coming into play. Jonathan built the bunker to hold around 130 people. Although Jon never did get to see the bunker operational. Therefore, Jerry finished it for his father. It is up North somewhere. Near New York. At least what use to be New York. The people in that bunker had to live in there for 56 years. That was how long it took for the nuclear fallout to clear out. It was mostly made up of soldiers and a few citizens. Since there wasn’t a lot of food in the bunker, so Troy’s Commanding Officer ordered men to go out and get food for the bunker. They donned radioactive suits, of course. The soldiers went out and collected food. Or at least food still good enough to eat. They also collected various items for the bunker. To make it more homie, you know. Since they couldn’t risk using energy from the generators, the soldiers found books for the people in the bunker. There in that small community, they had a secret. A secret worth living for. A secret worth dying for.” Then, out of the ashes of the war, rose The New Age Order. Or the New Order for short. And with them came The Massive New Tech Age. In with the new tech, out with the... “I know Grandma,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Oh really?” she said, as she crossed her arms across her chest. She also gave me that grandma look of hers. The one that says, “Did you just question me and do you have the guts to back it up” look. “Alright. Since you think, you know better than me. Why don’t you enlighten me about the New Age Or23
der,” she said as she leaned back in her old rocking chair.
“Well first off, that is the only thing they teach at school. That and discipline. From the stry I was told. The New Order rose from the ashes of the Third World War. And with them, the new tech age. Then the Massive Book Burning of 98’. They made life easy for everyone. They brought the poor and homeless up to a lower class. They gave middle and high-class people automatic homes. By the way, why don’t we have an automatic home?” “That’s because we got the house before the War. Grandpa Troy got the house from his parents. Your great grandparents. And besides your grandpa and I grew up in a time were you had to do it yourself. When automatic homes were just dreams and fantasy. Do you know why the government gave most people an automatic home?” “No” I said, starting to really think about the question I had been asked. “I guess it was to make life easier. I don’t know. Not really.” I said. My face gave way to another confused look. I’m not really sure where Grandma Rose is going with this. “Well then you guessed wrong,” she said. Before she finished what she was saying, she signed for me to be quiet. I listened. Then she reached over and smacked grandpa in the foot. He awoke with a jolt, startling Tom the cat. Tom jumped off grandpa and ran out of the room. Grandpa Troy had a look on his face that could have killed a man cold. Then he shook his head and rubbed his eyes. When he saw me, he said, “Good morning, Dangerous Dax.” He always calls me that. Because about two summers ago, I went toe-to-toe with some New Order troops. I barely escaped from them. After that, trouble always seem to find me. “What time is it” he said with a yawn and stretch. I just shrugged. Time seems to fall away when I am listening to Grandma Rose. “ETA about 20 minutes,” grandma said to grandpa, in a very calm voice. Like she knew something was about to happen and I didn’t. ETA, what’s that stand for again. Oh, right. Estimated Time to Arrival. Who or what was arriving in 20 minutes? Grandpa sat there for a moment longer. Then he shook his head, dropped his footrest on his Laz-E-Boy chair and got up. “Make sure you make one for him to carry,” Grandma 24
said, pointing to me. Grandpa nodded as he stood up. “Well Dangerous Dax, I have some chores to do. You can help in a bit. After Grandma finishes her story she was telling you;” He said as he ducked out of the room. “Now where was I?” Grandma said, as she raised her pointer finger to her chin in thought. “You were telling me; why the government gives people
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automatic homes.”
“Ah, yes Tha….” She was interrupted by Grandpa, who had stepped back in, holding a shotgun. “Daxter, do you know how to use a gun?” he said, giving the gun in his hands a little toss. “Yeah, they taught me in scho…” I started to say, but was cut off by Grandpa. “Good. That makes my job easier.” Then turned to Grandma saying, “Rose, where are the extra shotgun and M4 rounds at?” Extra shotgun rounds? Extra M4 rounds? What is going on here? Grandma tilted her head in thought. “Either under the kitchen sink or in the attic dear.” “Thank you,” he ducked out of the room again and was gone. “Grandma, what is going on?” I said trying to keep the panic out of my voice. By now, Grandma was on her feet and was moving. I was close on her heels. “Well, first off you should know that the New Order builds the new automatic homes so they could spy on the people and their neighbors. The second thing you should know is that your Grandpa and I are wanted for,” she paused a beat, trying to get her words together. “Oh hell. There is no easy way to say this,” she said as she began to pull items out of cupboards and put them on the table. She was grabbing ready-toeat-foods and what not. At that point, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed an answer now. “What is not easy to say?”
“What’s going on?” “Who or what is coming?” “What are you doing?” “And why are you doing it?” I almost yelled, finally taking a breath. “Ok. You want answers. Fine,” she said, stopping what she was doing and looking me square in the eye. “Your Grand26
pa and I are wanted rebellion leaders and we have a secret that the New Order wants to destroy. Yes or no, right now, do you want to be the next generation to protect it?” Then outside the house alarms started going off. Grandma pushed me to the floor. “YES,” I yelled over the alarms. I have no idea what I am getting into. I sure hope it’s worth it. “Rose, Daxter get in here! NOW!” Grandpa yelled from the bedroom. Grandma and I dashed for the bedroom, keeping low to the floor. When we got in there Grandpa tossed me a hiking backpack full of stuff. I quickly threw it on my shoulders while Grandpa and Grandma both don theirs. Grandpa then tossed me a M4 assaults rife. Catching it, I dropped back down to one knee. From outside the house came a voice. A robotic voice.
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“RESIDENTS OF 75 MINTON DRIVE, YORK, PENNSYLVANIA. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST! FOR THE VIOLATION OF NEW ORDER LAW1434. FOR HOLDING ILLEGAL ITEMS OF THE OLD AGE. YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS TO REPLY OR WE WILL OPEN FIRE.” “Now what do we do?” I asked, gripping my M4. “Always leave’em with a bang,” Grandma said handing Grandpa something small and black. Grandpa took it and smiled.
Fire and Ice By Kevin Straub
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Leafy Embrace By Kevin Straub
Admittance By Maegan Bogetti
Your cup hath runneth over For God provided ye But no water yet has nourished My thirsting heart’s lone seed I lie in wait in soil For your hand has left me fallow Your plow’s sole dig has cut me deep But planted me too shallow
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Wakeful Perch By Kevin Straub
My dreams of sprouting still persist I hear you self-conserve I fall asleep to dreams of love But wake up in a hearse Your cup hath runneth over For God provides to ye But I know love you do not know And truth you do not see
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What I Felt… By Kayla Yataco
I feel so alone It would be better if I was a stone Thoughtless without a clue Then I wouldn’t (have to) be thinking about you You put me through hell Even though I knew very well That you were gonna break my heart That you planned this from the start You treated me so cold Your act was getting old I didn’t know what to say So I let it fade away I thought this was a relationship Now I see it’s a dictatorship You tried to tell me what to do But I said “you know what, SCREW YOU!!” You thought this was a game I told you when you came Now things are never gonna be the same And you are the only one to blame Now that you’re not near I have nothing to fear I can finally start new With someone who isn’t you!
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The Divide By Kevin Straub
Untitled By Anonymous
I search for comfort in every soul I come across hoping to fill the void you created when you left. After all my failed attempts, I have concluded that no one will ever complete me the way you did. 32
The Miracle Girl By Elizabeth Dock
I have always loved animals. When I was ten, I got into horses; however, my Mom didn’t want me to ride horses due to my medical problems, such as a fused neck, no right hip, and a hole in my heart. It took me half a year to convince my Mom to let me take riding lessons. When we went on vacation to Tennessee, it was the second time I had ever rode a horse. When we got back, I started taking riding lessons at Spring Ride Stables. My Dad told me if I rode and went to the barn for eight months, I could get a horse. I got my first horse, Zena, three days before my first hip surgery when I was 12. After my first hip surgery, riding Zena went really great; however, the metal in my leg couldn’t stay there because it was causing me too much pain. They did another surgery to take the metal out. It went well and I was riding again until six months later. The hip surgery didn’t work and they wanted to reconstruct my hip. I didn’t want to do the operation, because for some reason, I just felt like it wasn’t going to work. They did the surgery and I couldn’t do anything for three months. It worked and I was riding better than I ever had, but then the pain from before came back. Two weeks later, we went back to the doctor and they told me I had to finish growing, so I would have to wait a year before the next procedure. In that year, I was in a lot of pain, but I would still try to ride. When it got to the point where I could only ride with one leg, I still persevered. Eventually the pain got worse, to the point where I couldn’t ride, but I would still go to the barn just to visit Zena, the other horses, and my friends. I couldn’t go to school, I couldn’t sleep without pain. Half of the time, I didn’t even want to wake up when I went to bed. One of the things that kept me going was the horses and knowing that after the hip replacement, I could ride, walk, and live again without pain. They did lengthen surgery, and then they did the hip replacement. I’m now riding again and not hurting as much. I finally have the life I always wanted. Even if it was a really slow process, it was worth it. Going through this and knowing it was all because of one person not washing their hands, resulting in an infection and causing me to have all of my medical problems, made me learn to forgive. It also gave me the idea to run a horse rescue when I’m older. I have already been working on the busi33
ness, called Hope for Horses (H4H), so that no horse would ever lose hope like I almost did. In running Hope for Horses, I can give them back the hope and courage that they gave me, so that they can have the life they deserve too. They will always know hope is real. If you have any questions or want to know more or even want to learn about Hope for Horses, just come and find me.
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Untitled By Anonymous
My holidays are far from happy and my New Years consists of the same old stuff. I feel as if I cannot breath on my own and I must depend on others for my own Happiness. I am beyond exhausted but cannot sleep for my mind is going 100 miles a minute with absurd scenarios and wishes that I know will never come true and I am so incredibly unhappy.
Walking in a Winter Wonderland By Kevin Straub 35
Qualms
By Maegan Bogetti Complex day constructed of Capricious winds and caliginous skies Of hammock turned right-side down Twisted and manipulated by those Howling rushes of mid 70s breeze Melodious friction of tree's leaves above Cacophonous groaning of electric skies below Conflicting ache of thoughts within. Complex day composed of problematic pen Emphatic mind and wayward conscience Lost long ago from the societal path Driven wayward by its own GPS Turn left and love too hard Continue straight and overthink too deeply Time for recalculation Recalibrating. Complex day filled with revelation Guilty happiness has lead to separation Love for one granting distance to another Farther than wheels roll onward With intonation inaudible via even shared playlists Revelation that time should not be monopolized But nurtured and managed as treasure That in order to conquer self doubt You first must recognize it Ascending light shed down so deeply That it's blessed rays infiltrate those corners Dug so deep into an anxious being And from within the green grass and golden skies Stir up something so long dormant Ringing dinner bell Calling for the return of pride and pursuit Ready to nurture and sustain That which was so graciously gifted And foolishly lost. Complex day Come and gone.
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Sunset at McKee’s By Kevin Straub
Untitled By Anonymous
I was once told to never lose sleep over someone who doesn’t give you a second thought. But what do I do when I lose sleep because I can't go a second without thinking of them. 37
My Friend By Dakota Durham
You were there friend when I fell You were there to help me spell Even though I am so slow And it’s funny when we throw I’m always there when you call We both hang out in the hall When I think of you and me This is all that I can see Thank you for being my friend.
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‘71 Hemi Cuda By Jesse Bartusik
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Ode to the Future By Anonymous
The future of our presence The future of our essence The future is very vast Created from the dark past Created for the children And made from our strong brethren The future is made for us The future’s without a fuss We built the future like God
Snowy Cradle By Kevin Straub 41
Leaves
By Nahava Neilson
Untitled By Anonymous
"I've walked in the fire for so long, I no longer knew the relief of water."
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Flowers are Blue By Anonymous
Flower are blue Her life is brand new She hates to cry She never tries
His eyes are blue He is so new She hates to cry She never tries
She needs him there She doesn’t know where She hates to cry She never tries
She loves him so He doesn’t know She hates to cry She never tries
She loves his hair She doesn’t care She hates to cry She never tries
Flowers are blue.
Think of Me By Gwen Zeiders 43
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SLAJ Officers (from left) Historian - Allie Walters Vice-President - Anna Piecuch President - Maegan Bogetti Treasurer - Kiana Brubaker Secretary - Owen Moyer
SLAJ Members SarahMae Toth Allie Walters Maegan Bogetti Anna Piecuch Kiana Brubaker Owen Moyer Owen Leason Isaiah Roberts
SLAJ Advisor Mrs. Shannon Frantz
Crescent Imperfections By Kevin Straub
The comfort zone is the great enemy to creativity; moving beyond it necessitates intuition, which in turn configures new perspectives and conquers fears. -Dan Stevens