WOLF FLOW
Timber Creek Literary Magazine 1
Volume I: 2011-2012 A Letter From the Editors As the school year draws to a close, the focus for many is the finish line. But for our literary magazine, it is just the beginning. We have strived to build a collection of student works that will set the precedence for future issues. Within you will find insights into the flow of thought and creativity our students possess. This first volume would not be possible without the guidance and assistance of Mr. Phillip Tillery, Mr. John Wright, and Mrs. Kim Dobson. We would also like to thank Mrs. Kathleen Shannon, Mrs. Barbara Smith, and Mrs. Zorashka Cestero-Hassele of the Art Department for encouraging their students to participate in this endeavor. It is through the combined efforts of the staff and contributors that have led to this successful publication. We hope you will enjoy reading this collection as much as we enjoyed creating it. Sincerely, Da Bomb (Adviser): Mrs. Kim Dobson
The Staff
Editor-in-Chief: Nairely Alvira Senior Poetry Editor: Aaron Ramcharan Junior Poetry Editor: Sabrina Nunes Senior Short Story Editor: Sarah Azim Junior Short Story Editors: Sascha Davila & Milan Calloway Creative Non-Fiction Editor: Sumayah Barhamje Art & Design Director: Emily Rose Copy Editors: Paige Jackson Alejandro Vidal Other Staff: Alan Cat
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Table of Contents Denise Fortin, Dreams
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Andres Vidal, The Field of Daffodils
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Ryan Cruz, Spring Flowers
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Nikki Bautista, The First Girl I Ever Loved
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Paige Jackson, This Little Girl
9
Annie Magee, Chronicles of a Teenage Agoraphobe
10
Amy Burgio, The Unavoidable Truth
12
Annie Magee, The Healing Light of Dawn
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Jocelynne Brough, 9/11
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Victoria Karst, Float
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Sascha Davila, Unforgivable
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Ashley Duarte, Don’t Tell Me
18
Nikki Bautista, A Lullaby
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Laura Klepadlo, Spring
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Seema Syed, What is Anger?
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Kayla Ellison, A Night of Revenge
22
Stephanie Zerbian, Forever Alone
24
Nathan Bennett, The Monster
25
Sabrina Nunes, The Fight for Snow White
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Kayli Portanova, Zombie Apocalypse
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Stephanie Zerbian, Father & Daughter
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Ana Berio, There’s Only One (Dedicated to my Dad)
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Kelsey Bush, Collective Thoughts
32
Denise Fortin, The Song that Saved My Life
34
Damani Obie, What is Courage?
36
Emily Rose, The Journey
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Marissa Kinzel, A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
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Dreams Denise Fortin, 10th Dreams are a never-ending happy place. Dreams are always there even when the sun isn’t shining. Dreams are the base of happiness and relieve you from the real world. Dreams. Some realistic, Like getting out of that terrible town. Some seemingly impossible like marrying that 24 year old pop star. And yet we’ll still yearn for these dreams because it’s always nice to look forward to something, something to fall back on. Dreams are much more than the thoughts you have when you close your eyes. Dreams are everything we hope for.
Jessica Dishong, 11th “Drowning in Sorrows”
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The Field of Daffodils Andres Vidal, 10th
A rose now blooms, sublime beauty in its petals. But it grows thorns to keep them away, for it is in dismay.
Its thorns have been cut away, They scream, “Your soul will not stay with us!”
I grew in a field of daffodils, They demand to know: “Why does it show Something so unknown?”
Condemned for being its own way, branded a witch, to burn at the stake in the brightest summer ray. It is in dismay for being its own way!
It grows thorns to keep them away. For it is in dismay. But it’s too late.
So the day comes here, and it’s rising fear. As jagged knives come near, as its wishes disappear.
Cut down… for being its own way. Branded a witch to burn in the summer ray.
The town’s field people yell and cheer, As they watch the blood spill, as well as tears.
In the middle of all the fray no other rose is found. Nowhere in this ground, in the field of daffodils.
They fall to the ground, And little do they know that another rose has bloomed.
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Hanna Bechtle, 11th “Sharp Beauty�
Spring Flowers Ryan Cruz, 10th
Oh, how lovely are the dancers, that flit about the meadow so. Whose sleep renewed their youthful shades that ended in the falling snow.
I rest my head upon the earth and watch them gently bob their heads. Again free from frozen chains rejoicing in yellows and reds.
But alas, their dance is short lived, as chill in the air doth foretell, that once more the frail meadow’s children 6
shall be ensnared in winter’s hell.
The First Girl I Ever Loved Nikki Bautista, 10th When I was in the fourth grade, she was in fifth. Back then we were on the spelling bee team together, spelling words like “wishful,” “maniac,” and “hopeless.” It was on our way to our first competition that we sat on the bus together. I had never really talked to her, but I knew she was nice. So, like any other fourth grade boy, I freaked out when a fifth grade girl chose to sit next to me. The whoosh of her blonde hair sent ripples of apple-scented chills down my back. She turned to me after a minute of awkward silence and said, “Soooo…are you nervous? If you are, that’s okay, because I know I am!” The way her sparkly, green eyes opened wide and squinted closed distracted me; I had no idea what she said, just that she asked me something. I opted to remain silent, watching her brows furrow in confusion at my reluctance to say a word. When she finally turned away, I breathed out the hot air balloon that was expanding in my chest. I remember thinking, why is she so pretty? And nice? Why are her eyes so pure? Why does she make me feel warm, like how the ocean smolders at sunrise and sunset…? She had me under her spell since that fateful bus ride. It became my mission to love her. I spent the rest of fourth grade following her, doing favors for her, anything that would demonstrate my commitment to her. But she never noticed. And the next year, when she moved to middle school and I was forced to endure a whole year without hearing the chime in her voice, it was nearly unbearable. Filling her absence, I conjured up our lives together after the fateful day when we would finally be reunited. When we went on a safari in Africa, I’d save
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her from the evil clan of monkey lords. When we moved to Antarctica, I’d build our igloo complete with a pool table and gaming room. She’d be so impressed. Then, in our secret tree house, using the high-voltage-easypower canon I would buy for her, she would shoot giant water balloons at our friends. Naturally, I dreamed of our forever together. Finally, the first day of middle school had arrived. With a deep breath, I opened the door to the school, stepped inside, and exhaled. There she was… every shining, alluring, beautiful piece of her. She smiled, Maybe she was telling one of those ever intriguing stories about her life again. And there I stood next to the library doors, clutching my schedule like the nervous sixth grader I was, staring at the only girl I had ever set my hopes and dreams upon. In a state of euphoria, having set eyes on her multi-hued aura once again, I ogled. I watched as she greeted with open arms the old friends she hadn’t seen over the summer. I watched her hands, the way they moved up and down in a frantic twirl when she was telling a story. I watched her smile, laugh, breathe, think. Lastly, I watched how her eyes melted, arms relaxed, and face turned to bliss as a guy with shaggy hair and a crisp flannel shirt draped his muscular arms around her. Then they kissed.
Illustration: Allie Lutz, 10th, “I Lost My Marbles” 8
This Little Girl Paige Jackson, 10th
There’s this little girl I know, she makes the true me show. Through all my pain, through all my hurt, she makes me smile for just a little while. I see her in me, who can she be? Why? Why is she here? I wish she was near. Long ago I felt this way, longing to belong, scared to say, but maybe, Just maybe she will someday. Her parents, her parents, she wishes they’d say, “It’s all right, it’ll be okay.” She says, “Can’t this all just go away?” Little does she know, I wish she’d stay. For if she left, I’d lose the little me I began to see. This little girl miles away, never fails to brighten my day.
Gila Rovira, 11th “Childhood Memories” 9
The Chronicles of a Teenage Agoraphobe Annie Magee, 10th
High school is stressful. High school is terrifying. High school seems to be the safe haven for the ultimate animalistic test: survival of the fittest. Everyone wants to be unique and purposeful and profound. But no one wants to be in the hot seat or put on the spot. We want to just fit in and find our place. And no one wanted to fit in quite like I did. The introduction to high school felt like everyone had just pushed me off the side of a boat with a bucket of chum into open water. The sharks were circling and I had nowhere to hide. Because let’s face it: being two inches taller than half the guys in your grade is bad enough without social anxiety that bordered on outright terror. So what did I do? I strapped on a plastic dorsal fin and kept my mouth shut, praying that no one would look my way. But unfortunately animals, and teenagers, can smell fear. It wasn’t long until my disguise was noticed and the panic set in again. My worst nightmare which consisted of me gracing the covers of the school’s verbal tabloids had come true. There is nothing more horrible than being the person who fears society and being the girl that everyone alienated, or worse, pitied. Maybe the one worse thing would be attempted assimilation. And I was guilty of both. So as I was serving out my sentence concerning my social crimes, I found a new group of people. The kind of people who wore jeans they bought in Prague and ironically listened to
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disco music. And instead of wanting to be like them, they liked my novelty. I was their pet, and I was happy to be there on the sidelines. Once I had taken up residence with them, people started asking questions and building their knowledge of who I was. After awhile I looked around and realized that I had become a combat boot-wearing, literature-reading, sarcastic, satirical, and weirdly polite person myself. And without even trying, I now had a place that I loved more than I ever could have loved the one I had longed for. And if the girl with the panic disorder could settle down and find her place, I’m pretty sure everyone can. But if you’re lost, I’ll tell you a secret: you’re going to find yourself in strange places with strange people. But some strange in your life is way better than some normalcy.
Miranda Ave, 10th “Girl with Ring”
The Unavoidable Truth 11
Amy Burgio, 12th That cursed hand of death, For it will take every last breath, And give it to another; but Life! Not only Death’s enemy, but also his wife. For the two go hand-in-hand. It’s something we cannot stand, Because everything that lives, must die. It doesn’t matter how hard you try. My life will end, as will yours. These lives we lead, our final tours. Once you start, you must end. This is the only trend.
Bryan Peterson 11th, “Reach”
The Healing Light of
Dawn
Annie Magee, 10th
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The fighting, the work, the pain, they are gone. The pale grey light etches into the sky And points you to safety: To new beginnings and new hope. To paces unseen with your new, untainted eyes. And my only wish for you Is that this light shines on your face, And wipes away your tears, And that it gives you the guidance which I couldn’t. For you have fought, And you have lost, And you have suffered at the hands of others. But now you are so full of promise And you wear your scars with pride.
9/11 Jocelynne Brough, 10th
It was the day that my grandmother exploded. It was the day that so many people died. It was the day we will never forget. It was September 11, 2001. It was a normal day, much like any other. I was young, much too young to understand what 13
exactly was going on, but smart enough to understand something was wrong. My grandmother was going to visit my dad at this office, because she met up with him every Tuesday. What my grandmother didn’t know was that my father had called out of work that day to stay home with me because I had the chicken pox.
as quickly as possible and that he would explain once he got here. My grandfather agreed, a little worried, but if there was one thing I understood it was this: it was so that we could all be in one place and worry together. After he got off the phone my dad gave me a protective hug. He sat me down on his lap as we watched the T.V., waiting for my grandfather. We sat like that for a long time, barely holding onto reality it seemed, when the second plane
I don’t remember much from that day, but the way my dad tells it, I had asked him to turn on the T.V. for some kiddie show. Plastered all over the news was live footage from the Twin Towers, just a subway ride away from us. My father stared long and hard at the television before realizing what day it was, and he quickly dialed my grandparents’ number on our phone. It took a while before he was able to get through, what with everybody doing the exact same thing we were, calling to check on family members. When my grandfather picked up the phone he spoke conversationally and laughed naturally, not having a clue what was going on just a short drive away; my grandparents did not own a television. My father quickly asked where my grandmother was, and my grandfather replied, “At your work, like usual, why?”
appeared on the news, heading straight for the second tower. Plane and building collided, and my grandmother was no more.
Sarah Godlewski, 11th “Age Before Beauty”
My father dropped the phone. He told my grandfather that he needed to come over here
Float Victoria Karst, 12th
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Happiness without the sight of sadness, Does not exist. A person who has seen no horror, Knows no bliss. We learn to swim Only after we’ve begun to drown. You’re strong enough, Don’t let the sea get you down. Joy is hard to obtain But even harder to keep. Soon after your smile shows, You’re back out in the deep. The way to the surface is rough, Waves can be so hostile. Get your head above the water, Relax, float for a little while.
Erika Johnson, 12th “Flying Houses”
Unforgivable Sascha Davila, 10th I knew what I'd done as soon as the door closed. 15
The emotions revealed from the argument made their homes in the walls. It would be months until they moved out, and I'd be stuck listening to their late night ruckus. I didn't bother wiping the tears off of my cheeks, so they puddled at the bottom of my neck, uncomfortably. I stepped over the shattered glass from the ceramic bowl he had shattered. Though I failed to avoid it; a trail of blood shadowed me, taking the form of my heel. The broom leaned lazily in the corner of the room. Before I bothered cleaning up the mess, I let myself rest on the old, blue couch. I was a terrible person. I was a liar, a cheater. The way his eyes burned as I told him the truth gripped me. His usually serene face was contorted. When I saw his fists clenched by his sides, the gravity of my lies finally caught up with me. When he spoke, I was crushed beneath the weight of his words. And when he yelled at me, it felt as if he crumpled my soul like a piece of paper. "I'm so sorry, Foster," I fearfully whispered. He frowned and barked, "You should be apologizing to yourself, Hayley. You're a disgrace." He knocked the pale blue, ceramic bowl off of the wooden table. It hit the floor and scattered into a lesser version of itself. That was the last thing he had said before he slammed the door. He seemed to have taken the colors of the room with him; everything looked so gray now. The sound of the phone was distant, though it was on the end table. I was in no mood to speak to anyone. But it was instinct to reach out for the phone. "Hello?" "Hayley," the voice on the other end sounded happy to hear me. It was my "male mistress." What would I call him? What was the opposite of “mistress,� anyway? Master? I didn't like that. "Listen, Victor, right now isn't a good time for us to be speaking," I sighed. "Why not, baby girl?" He clearly couldn't detect my distress. "Don't... don't call me that," I grumbled. "I have to go." I hung up on him without giving him the chance to speak. I hated him. But the lust between us was strong. He was a home wrecker. Foster would never speak to me again because of Victor. And when he stopped by uninvited later that night, I did what Foster despised. My self-control and guilt was tossed aside, along with our clothes. "What's wrong?" Victor asked as we lied in the warm bed. "Foster knows. He left me."
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"Oh. His loss," Victor shrugged. His hazel eyes were bored and uninterested, something that made him irresistible. "You don't care..." I muttered. "...Get out." "Wh-what?" "You heard me. Get the hell out." Victor briefly dressed and I heard the door slam for the second time today. He’d never made contact with me again. Ideas were bouncing around my head. But it all came down to this: Victor could never be forgiven, but maybe I could. The line rang seven times before I heard the soft breathing on the other side. "Foster," I spoke confidently. "We can fix this."
Illustration: Justin Hammermeister, 12th “Sugar Skull Laying Down”
Don’t Tell Me Ashley Duarte, 11th Don’t tell me I’m irresponsible I’ve had more responsibilities than most kids my age, 17
I’ve had family to look after and bills to pay. Jobs to obtain, And an image to maintain. With my father never there and my mother away, Don’t you ever say, I’m irresponsible. Don’t tell me I’m incapable I’ve achieved more goals than predicted. Being the first to graduate from my family wasn’t a request, It was insisted. With high hopes and big dreams, Trust me my goals will be achieved. Because I’ll get it done my way, Don’t you ever say, I’m incapable. Don’t tell me no I’ve worked way too hard And been through too much this far I didn’t have the same advantages or luxuries But I’ll make damn sure my future sees money I deserve the best as well as my mother, I’m more determined than all the others. I’ll never settle for less, just so you know So don’t you ever, ever, Tell me no.
A Lullaby Nikki Bautista, 10th
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Like a lullaby I play, As her heart keeps time. Wonder when the sun brings day, Or if my heart will end in rhyme.
Around us in the air, Through the banners of light, The notes dance everywhere And slowly fall to night.
Gently I will stop my fingers, Once to touch her tear, And read her blush lingers, As I draw her closer near.
Hanna Bechtle, 11th “Lost Lullabies�
Spring Laura Klepadlo, 12th
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As winter leaves, The new season comes And the flowers start to bloom As the trees grow high And the leaves return for another show. New life will begin As the animals awake for a new day, Colors float all around As spring shows its face.
Natalia Gutierrez, 12th “Trapped�
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What is Anger? Seema Syed, 9th Anger is when we fight until we see the end Anger is every infuriated message that we didn’t hesitate to send Anger is an exchange of regrettable words Anger is the key reason when you wonder why love didn’t work Anger wants to see a tear fulfill its escape Anger is a desired outburst meant to mend our ache Anger is not limited to one yell or one scream Anger is when we experience living in a gone astray dream Anger is why we abandon others and hastily turn away Anger is why we threaten others and crave to betray Anger is when we begin to question if we belong Anger is when we find consolation in what we know is wrong Anger is what cloaks and blinds our sight Anger is what holds us back from sleeping at night Anger is always pouring pessimistic thoughts into our mind Anger is overlooking our actions and wishing to click rewind
A Night of Revenge Kayla Ellison, 9th 21
“Just stop Mariella! You are about to ruin your whole life for one boy!” Jordan was gasping for air through Mariella’s tight grip on his Adam’s apple. Amy continued to scream reminding Ella that what Jordan did to her happened a long time ago, he apologized and he was truly sorry. He never meant for her to get hurt, he wasn’t even planning on going out that night. But the fact of the matter was that he was there and it did happen. Through countless hours of therapy and family support Ella was stable, but every time she caught Jordan’s glance in the hallway the whole horrible evening would playback in her mind like an old film. She couldn’t handle it any longer, she came for payback and there was no way she was going to leave without it. He didn’t fully understand what he had done to her. He would never have the same nightmares, the same paranoia, the same flashbacks she had. And she knew that, which was why now more than ever she was ready to inflict on him the same pain she felt on the night “it” happened. As the millions of ways Ella would execute her revenge swarmed her thoughts, Jordan was on the verge of tears. The slick, mildewy pavement felt soothing under his body, though the raging fire in Mariella’s eyes made him feel as if her were boiling in the middle. The way Mariella spun the blade in between her scrawny white knuckles made Jordan cringe. As she turned the five inch piece of crafted metal, the light from the street lamp shone onto his eyes nearly blinding him after every 45° turn. At that moment he replayed his memory of the night. He remembered it was cold and muggy, much like it was currently, and Ella looked stunning in her sequined party dress. Her corsage sat gracefully on her wrist, and her hair spiraled down her back like a
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waterfall of gold. He remembered thinking that night was going to be one to remember, and indeed it was. Just not in the way they’d both intended. Jordan’s thoughts were quickly interrupted when he heard Ella inhale sharply. Her adrenaline was off the wall at this point. The only thing left standing between her and revenge was air and opportunity.
Lillian MacKnight, 12th “Adam and Eve”
Forever Alone Stephanie Zerbian, 10th 23
A young woman sat by herself in the doctor’s office and wept. No one could comfort her. No one could help her out of the depths of her depression. The loss of this child made the woman feel like something was wrong with her. She was young and healthy, so why couldn’t she carry a child? These thoughts screamed in her head as she wept. Her husband sat next to her, holding her hand, weeping silently with his tormented wife. They had tried so hard this time he thought. They had come so close, but they still had no child. This one had lived for three months, just like the other two earlier that year. Each child had survived long enough for its parents to become hopeful that they would finally have a child, but each child was too weak to continue living. As the young couple solemnly walked out of the office, still quietly weeping, they came to realize that they would grow to be an old couple without any children to take care of them in their final years of life. They came to realize that they would be forever alone.
The Monster
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Nathan Bennett, 9th In my life there is nothing Only the monster I put on a brave face Muster through It always comes around It consumes me The monster is rage The beast is ugly I feel it in my head I see it in my sleep Drawing me closer I cannot unleash There is no escape Yet I am no sponge I cannot soak up its rage Then push it out harmlessly I am more like a tank of water I take and I take Then I break Brianna Martinez, 11th “Aries�
Fury I hope no one is around when the monster takes me, He will not discriminate But I will fight to the last breath.
The Fight for Snow White 25
Sabrina Nunes, 11th Snow White lay in a glass casket with the seven dwarfs kneeling in front of her, crying. Doc opened the casket and laid flowers in her folded hands. Dopey then stood up and walked over, with tears streaming down his face. “You want to try to wake her up, Dopey?” Doc asked the younger dwarf. Dopey nodded, and Doc moved out of the way to let him through. Dopey approached the casket and leaned down towards Snow White’s lips. As he closed his eyes and got closer a loud thump was heard behind them. “Wait!” Someone shouted. The dwarfs turned around and gasped. It was the Huntsman, panting and sweating from running. “Y-You can’t k-kiss her, th-that’s my job!” He walked towards where Dopey stood with his mouth gaping open. He was still leaning over Snow White, his head turned towards the Huntsman as he entered the clearing. The Huntsman walked up to Dopey and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “I’m supposed to kiss her, not you!” Dopey narrowed his eyes at the Huntsman and punched him in the face. The Huntsman brought his hands up to where Dopey punched him, dropping the dwarf to the ground. Dopey sat up and looked at the Huntsman, then he pointed to Snow White then himself. Suddenly the Huntsman punched Dopey and they started fighting. Punches and kicks were thrown and while the other dwarfs got up and surrounded the two, shouting their favorite, no one noticed the Prince step into the clearing. He walked towards Snow White and looked back at the fighting. But they were all still oblivious to his presence in the clearing at all. So he shrugged his shoulder and said, “Oh well, their loss.” He leaned down and closed the gap between his lips and Snow White’s. As he broke away from the kiss she began to stretch and yawn. Suddenly the fighting stopped. And all turned to stare at the waking Snow White. The Huntsman and Dopey’s faces filled with anger as they glared at the Prince. “Brother I was supposed to kiss her, not you!” The Huntsman exclaimed throwing his hands in the air and whining like a little boy. Dopey smacked the Huntsman on the arm and pointed at himself then Snow White. “Well, if you were more concerned with kissing her than killing each other you would have noticed me you idiots,” the Prince said with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Snow White’s eyes fluttered open and she sat up. She looked around, a confused look crossing her face.
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“Why are you all looking at me like that? And which one of you kissed me?” All of a sudden three hands shot into the air as Dopey, the Huntsman, and the Prince began to fight each other. The three were going red in the face with pain from hitting each other. “My hand is higher!” Shouted the Huntsman. “Ha, in your dreams little brother!” The Prince laughed as the two tried to decide whose hand was higher, because to them whoever’s hand was higher would be with Snow White. Snow White became more and more confused as the arguing continued. The other dwarfs had noticed that Dopey was missing and had begun to look for him. He suddenly came walking out of the forest dragging a wooden chair behind him. The Prince and the Huntsman had stopped arguing as Dopey approached them and watched him with puzzled expressions on their faces. “Dopey where did you get that chair and what are you going to do with it?” Doc asked as Dopey set the chair down next to the two brothers. Then he climbed on it, balanced himself and raised his hand high with a victorious grin on his face. Recognition dawned on the two brother’s faces as they realized that Dopey’s hand was higher. The Prince stomped on his foot, “That’s not fair you’re not supposed to climb on a chair.” The Huntsman began crying and pounding his fists on the floor. “That’s not fair I wanted to be with Snow White.” He whined as tears streamed down his face as he continued to pound his fists on the floor. Dopey heard the noise and turned towards Doc. His eyes widened as his grin got bigger and he jumped down from the chair and ran over to Doc. “Okay, okay you can have a juice box too.” Doc replied as he handed Dopey and extra juice box. Dopey happily grabbed the juice box and skipped over to the Prince and the Huntsman who continued to cry and complain. They stopped crying as Dopey approached them skipping happily with a juice box in his hand. He waved at them with his free hand and patted them both on their arms. The Prince and the Huntsman both gasped and began shouting. “Why does he get a juice box and not us?” The Huntsman exclaimed getting up from the floor to point at Dopey. “Yeah what he said” The Prince agreed. Doc shook his head, and said, “That was the last juice box I had.” Then the Prince and the Huntsman tackled Dopey to the ground and began wrestling him for the juice box. “That’s mine!” The Prince shouted as Dopey shook his head and kicked him in the face.
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“You’re both delusional that juice box is mine.” The Huntsman said tackling Dopey and his brother in the face. Snow White had been quietly watching from atop the casket. She shook her head and climbed down. “Alright, that’s enough.” She said. The three stopped fighting and looked up at her from the ground. “I’m going to choose one of you at random so that way you guys can’t fight anymore.” They all jumped up with grins on their faces. “Enie-meanie-miney-moe!” She exclaimed grabbing Doc’s arm as his cheeks began to color pink. “What, why the shrimp?” The Prince asked crossing his arms across his chest and stomping his feet. “Yeah why him but not me!” The Huntsman wailed. “It’s not fair I always lose!” He cried as he dropped to the floor and pounded his fists against the ground. Tears streamed down Dopey’s face as he quietly lowered his head and sat on the ground. Doc wrapped an arm around Snow White’s waist. “Well, if you guys didn’t act like 2 year olds maybe one of you would’ve won, but it looks like the Doc-sters still got it.” He said to the three as he and Snow White turned and headed out of the clearing with the rest of the dwarfs following behind them.
Kim Estoesta, 12th “Just One Bite” 28
Zombie Apocalypse Kayli Portanova, 10th
Caught in a hopeless war, A never-ending lack of peace. A nation torn and coated with gore, Where everyone seems to be deceased. Darkest night upon us now, Blackest day with whom we shroud. Ourselves from everyone, somehow, Never wanting to be in a crowd. We fear, fear itself. We hide from all, Including ourselves, Never leaving our precious seawall. We judge everyone From where we sit Sarah Marriott, 9th “Lost in Time”
Upon this dark beacon, Trying to warn the world that it will tip. That it doesn’t matter that it’s a ship, Because it will sink in the end. It doesn’t matter if it can bend. For it will still break, Then the ocean shall take All that you had; You will go mad. 29
Collective Thoughts Kelsey Bush, 10th She sat down on the floor, methodically laying her dolls in front of her. She lightly petted each dolls’ wiry hair, whispering a greeting to each figure. The dolls sat quiet, each waiting in turn to be changed from their sleeping garments to their morning attire. Elise looked over the set of figurines, finally satisfied with her morning ritual, she opened the door of her miniature Colonial Williamsburg style house with a flourish. Knowing that now was my chance, I stepped out from my hiding spot behind the door. Holding onto the doorframe of the room, I peered into what was once known as her bedroom. Clothing littered the floor, piled high in corners, threatening to topple over. Half naked dolls were shoved in boxes, spilling over. Broken body parts lay askew, between articles of clothing, arms reaching through the debris, as if they were begging for help. No longer able to see the once pristine floor, I carefully stepped over items, trying to find some purchase for my feet. I kept my hand on the wall to steady myself. Standing behind Elise, unaware of my arrival, I looked her over. Her greasy, dingy hair lay in clumps down her back, pleading to be brushed so birds don’t mistake her head for their nest. Her pale skin was so translucent you could notice the blue veins standing out. Skin stretched tight over jutting bones, looking ready to snap at a moment’s notice. My heart sunk; irrational thoughts fill my head, but I still feel as though it was somewhat my fault. Clearing my throat, I attempted to make myself known; I needed to get Elise ready for the day. A bath, her least favorite part of the day, the time where she’s away from her dolls’. Unaffected by my subtle noises, she continued whispering to the dolls, moving them from room to room, playing house. I remember the first doll she ever received, she had ripped off the wrapping so quickly, squealing when she saw the present our parents had bought for her. It was a regular Barbie doll, platinum hair, orange skin tone, and a pearly white smile. Nothing out of the ordinary for a regular seven year old. My parents beamed with pride, as they had finally done something right. Mother preferred to drink rather than to spend time with her children; she also had a heavy 30
hand when someone got in her way. I’ve done my best when I got old enough to keep Elise from her straying hand. Father on the other hand is a workaholic and fails to see the actions Mother takes. Had I gotten anything that Christmas? No, but I was happy they were focusing on Elise. But that day, that day changed everything. I saw the excitement in Elise’s eyes that day; saw how she carried that doll around every day after it. So was it really that wrong of me to encourage Father that Elise needed another doll? Was it so criminal of me to steal money from Mother just to see that jovial expression of Elise’s? Was it truly that wicked of me just to want my sister happy? I’d say not at the time, but in retrospect I have second thoughts. That one day when I had gone to the supermarket with Elise to get some milk, and we happen to pass the toy section. Elise found the doll section within a matter of seconds, before I even realized she had left my side. She snatched up the nearest doll and held it closely to her chest. Elise screeched at me, telling me she just had to have that doll, she would die without it. I stared bewildered at her, the shock sinking in. A mother in the section next to us shot me a glance of scorn before grabbing her son’s hand and leading him out the aisle. But yet I still started at Elise, unsure of how to say no. I think that was when the obsession started, when Elise fell down the rabbit hole, only rarely coming back to reality.
Suzanna Wicker, 12th “Hair Ballerina”
Father & Daughter 31
Stephanie Zerbian, 10th
What is love? Love is patiently sitting through her tea party. Love is going to all her dance recitals no matter how busy you may be. Love is dancing with her. Love is listening to her little stories that seem to have no point. Love is helping her learn to ride a bicycle. Love is comforting her when she is sad. Love is correcting her when she has made mistakes so that she will learn to make better choices. Love is learning to let her make her own choices. Love is setting up boundaries so he doesn’t hurt her. Love is giving her away on her wedding day, knowing she will be happy. That is love.
There's Only One (Dedicated to my Dad) 32
Ana Berio, 11th There's only one like you, I can't explain it, but I love you. You taught me how to talk, how to walk, how to love. There's only one Time. Chance. Opportunity. Out of so many people in this world, You were chosen for me, I was chosen for you. There's only one Time to say I love you. There's only one Chance to thank you. There's only one Opportunity to be blessed with you. I have one moment to tell you I love you. And that time is now...
Jessica Dishong, 11th “Owl Always Love You�
This Song Saved My Life 33
By Denise Fortin For a typically indecisive person, I made the decision to give up quite quickly. After school on the 14th of November, I was going to commit suicide. I couldn’t deal with the pain, and the razors weren’t working anymore. Pills were my weapon of choice, and I wasn’t even planning on saying goodbye. I think if anyone caught on to what I was planning, if anyone cared enough to stop me, I would have stopped myself. I must admit, I was excellent at hiding my misery; no one ever had a clue. I had a couple of pills down by the time my iPod somehow turned on. My favorite song by my favorite band, Therapy by the All Time Low, began blasting through the speakers, filling up the whole house with music. Over the loud music I heard my brothers bang on my door, and they barged in (as usual). But this time, they caught me with a half empty bottle of pills. How could I forget to lock the door? I saw the look of horror on my brothers’ faces. Their eyes were staring at the pill bottle next to me. I threw it to the side a little too late, and my older brother was already running downstairs. My younger brother continued to stare at me, tears filling up his eyes. He stood frozen afraid to step further into my room, as if the maroon colored rug was scolding lava. I couldn’t bare to look at him, so I smashed my face into my pillow and went hysterical. I felt a warm hand on my back. I didn’t move an inch, and then the body began to talk. It was my mom, as I expected. “The ambulance is on its way, honey. You don’t have to talk, just promise to cooperate with the doctors. I’m not exactly sure what’s going through your head
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right now, but I’m sorry.” Even without looking at her, I could tell she was holding back the tears. I wanted to tell her none of this was her fault, but before I could, everything went black. I woke up to shining lights, a little too bright. I immediately felt a headache coming on. I could barely open my eyes before I was bombarded with doctors, nurses, and my family. I was surprised to see my grandparents, who were standing next to my mom. It was evident that everyone had been crying. That was when I realized I caused all this pain. How could I do this to my family? I never thought about how others would feel if I were to take my life. I only thought about myself. How selfish. Everyone was talking a thousand miles per minute. I guess the doctor could see the alarmed look on my face, because he sent everyone out to let me be alone with my thoughts. The thing is, I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. Like clockwork, the doctor peeked in the door, and I invited him in. “Do you want to talk?” the doctor asked. “All I know is that I don’t want to be alone. I’ve felt alone my whole life. I don’t need that feeling right now.” “Okay, so talk to me.” I took a deep sigh and told him everything. I don’t know why I told this complete stranger but the warmth of his eyes invited me in. He was honestly the first person I completely opened up to, and I thank God I did. After a few minutes he asked: “So how exactly did your family find out what you were planning to do?” I explained the whole iPod situation, and the barging in of my brothers. “Basically, that song saved your life?” “I guess you could say it did.”
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What is Courage? Damani Obie, 11th Courage is a single cat going up against a group of dogs. Courage is a seed that didn’t get enough water, fighting to make a tree. Courage is a man who started from the bottom, but ended up at the top. Courage is bravery. Courage is knowing it won’t be easy, but still doing it regardless. Courage is being determined to succeed. Courage is a purple dog, protecting his family from deadly monsters. Courage is a single ray of hope, rising into an entire shine. That is courage.
Shannan Mullins, 12th “Beautiful Disposition” 36
The Journey Emily Rose, 11th As I followed the signs to the hospital, the butterflies that were once sleeping woke in a flurry of nerves at the bottom of my stomach. As I pulled into a space, it was unnaturally calm. It always is, isn’t it? Outside of a hospital the cars are parked, quiet. Even small squirrels don’t dare skitter across a pile of dead leaves. Everything changes once you step foot inside. The squeaks of sneakers and the click of heels bounce of the cement walls seem to fill your ears with life, but one small breath brings in the damp smell of death. It stains your clothes and seems to cling to you, drawing the breath from your lungs as it threatens to drag you into its depths. I had to be strong. Death couldn’t catch me now. I shrugged it off my shoulders and walked towards the elevators. I piled into the small elevator with two other families. A small boy clung to his mother’s leg in front of me. “Mom, we see grandpa now?” the boys asked, staring up at a hopeless face. “Soon baby, soon.” She forced a smile and tussled his hair. Floor three dinged, and they walked off. To the left of me stood a family of giggling girls, led by a nurse. The youngest of the girls looked up at me and beamed a big, toothless smile, and I couldn’t help but give one back. They got off at floor four. The small elevator didn’t make for an easy trip up to floor ten, my stop. I could feel the waves of nerves rush over me, and my eyes watered. I focused on my breathing as the bell rang for my floor. The stark white walls and harsh fluorescent lighting didn’t make it easy to hide your emotions. I blinked the tears away and headed for the nurse’s station. “Hello? I’m looking for my mother’s room? She switched rooms this afternoon.” “Her name, sweetie?” “Lorraine Brien.” The nurse clicked a few buttons on her computer rather hastily before turning back to me and saying, “room 107. Go down this hall and take a left. It’s the first door on the right.” “Thank you.” With a deep breath I walked where the nurse had instructed, peering into the rooms along the way. Families were being informed that there was nothing else the doctors could do. Nurses cleaned emptied rooms. Charts were clipped in and out. Children got casts. I looked at the waiting room that was full of my family members: aunts and uncles, and all of my cousins. I took a steadying breath and knocked on the door for room 107 before opening it and walking in. 37
“Hey, mom.” I greeted her and smiled at my sister Evelyn sitting in the corner, reading her book. “Hey, sweetie. How was school?” she asked, as if we were sitting in the living room and not the hospital. “It was good, mom. Boring as always.” It was a lie. School was hard. All I could think about during the Algebra final was when I was going to get to see her, and I cried in Social Studies when we read about the deaths in World War I. But those were things she didn’t need to know. She just needed to know that I was happy… that I was doing okay. She had enough stress on her already, what with the chemotherapy and all. I could hear the creak of the door, and turned to see my dad. “Sweetie, I think it’s time to tell them. Evelyn, will you come here?” He wrapped his arms around me and ushered me closer to the bed. I slid my hand into my mother’s and looked around, confused. “Tell us what?” I asked. “Melanie, Evelyn,” my mom started, “you have a lot of mothers out there.” She was referring to the hoard of family members just outside the door. “They are all here for you today. Unfortunately, they won’t all be here tomorrow.” I could no longer hold back the tears. They overflowed onto my cheeks. She was talking about herself. My only mother was leaving me. The one that they had all told me would get better. She was leaving. Not on vacation, not on business, but forever. She was leaving two daughters, a loving husband, and a family that wasn’t ready to let go. For the first time I let that smell of death come over me. I let it fill my lungs, and I didn’t push it out. I let it seep its dark stains into my clothes, through my skin, and into my heart.
Shannon Mullins, 12th Quantifiably Questionable
A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes Marissa Kinzel, 10th
Once upon a time 38
in a land far away this is the story we hear people say: “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair! Can you resist the wicked smile or saccharine stare? You have until midnight to eat this poison apple. A bite, a nibble, swallow it in a gobble! It does not matter, for once your teeth sink in you’ll fall asleep eternally– that is, until a prince arrives to relieve the sin. What’s this? An ogre? He planted a sweet kiss to your lips! Careful, my dear, look around, no time for your quips! You’ve just been transformed in a flurry of pixie dust and stars into a ghastly, slimy frog; watch out for passing cars! Your seven good friends make three hopeful wishes and in the third minute of the third hour on the third day you spin three times and click your heels thrice and return home, you do, just as you were in your tower.” Oh, such are the woes of living fairy tales. And just think– you didn’t even get your prince.
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Kelsie Ehalt, 9th “Wolf”
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