UNFAMILIAR MOUNTAINS

Abby Peck Grade 12, Boise

September 20, 2021

The bench was being painted a solid white, and it was very soothing. The sun had pressed its rays down on the wooden planks all day, and while the autumn weather was cool sometimes, at high noon with no breeze the heat was stiling, and the cool coat of paint was most welcome. The bench sat only a few feet from the pond, a nice pond with lots of ducks, lat stones encircling it, and a sidewalk stretching around in a semi-circle. It was a popular place; people were scattered about like pushpins on a map. A man walked down the sidewalk clutching a small, waxy pastry bag, and he momentarily glanced at the worker painting the bench on his way to the next one. He sat, crossed one leg over the other, and unfolded the sharp crease, taking out a small container of cream cheese and a plastic knife. He lattened the bag, took out the bagel, and laid the two halves on top, then removed the cap from the container of cream cheese and began to spread it. A sharp sound made him look up, and he saw a child laughing as her mother showed her how to sprinkle breadcrumbs around for the birds. His leg shited as he moved the knife and the crease in his ironed pants danced back and forth. His lips curled upward as he took a bite and the cream cheese gushed out to meet his teeth. Another man sat next to him and looked almost disapprovingly at the bagel, then turned forward without a word to watch the ducks pick up the specks of dough.

Tyler Brunkow Boise

The page was smudged with gray eraser marks and disappointment. The words didn’t it, my eraser was worn down to the bone, covered in graphite and sticky palm sweat. Somehow the page looked worse than the pencil. I wrote and re-wrote so many times, the words were indistinguishable from their original meanings. This was my spotlight moment, a time to inally bask in the vast and undeniable future. This was a goodbye to my childhood. Deep breath and go! I was waiting for the magical realization, the master plan to unfold in front of me, but it didn’t. The desk chair made an ugly creaking noise when I leaned back, and I dropped my head backwards in frustration. I gazed up to the ceiling, looking for faces in the texture, hoping it would re-light my valedictorian spark. So, I stared in silence, listening to the electric buzz of my desk lamp. But, paint was just paint. In the case of my ceiling, it had probably been painted and repainted many times over the decades. But that thought only made me wonder what the original paint had looked like, whether it was bright or dark, plain or covered in intricate Renaissance designs depicting the archangel Lucifer and his fall from grace. I leaned even farther back trying to picture myself in front of my graduating class. A sea of strangers, was really what they were; I never took the time to get to know any of them. What did that say about me as a person? My right leg was folded between the edge of my oak desk and the seat of my rolling chair in an uncomfortable, but not unbearable position. I could feel the nerves twitch from the lack of circulation to my foot and readjusted my position, but it didn’t stop the sensation of TV static from invading, and the pins and needles that arrived shortly ater from clouding my train of thought. Children didn’t oten realize that they were diferent from everyone else until their teen years, if they were lucky. As they got older, they learned to be proud of their diferences, and each shade of color of person would realize eventually that they had been beautiful the whole time. That was the irony of beauty: you had to believe it to see it. I was born without color at all. Silvery white hair, pink eyes, and a lack of pigment. I was colorless, and it was obvious. It was called albinism. My mother 126

told me it made me angelic, but my whole kindergarten class thought I was a monster. We even had to have the principal come and do a presentation on my condition because of how much trouble it was causing. But we grew up, and now I had to write a sappy, nostalgic speech on how fun school was and how grateful I was for my teachers even though Google taught me more than they ever could. Then I would shake the staf members’ hands, and they would give me my diploma. Too bad that diploma wouldn’t pay for all the therapy, but such was life. I picked my pencil up and set it on the page. You have to write something, dammit. I scribbled a line before the frantic sound of little footsteps trailed down the hallway towards my door. Thunk! “What the hell?” I sat up in my chair. Outside my door sat my little brother, Anza, who was rubbing his head. His thick, black hair lowed over his head in all directions, masking his face from my vision. He refused to get a haircut because he was in 8th grade and he said haircuts were for elementary school kids. Unfortunately, his hair now covered his eyes when he ran, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to hit walls or knock things over. “Ready for a haircut yet, Ano?” “Haircuts are for babies and teachers’ pets!” he announced, massaging the top of his forehead. “Whatever you say, kid.” I smiled. That was Anza for you. It was typical for siblings to ight, but for some reason, Ano and I just didn’t have a ighting bone in our bodies. We were always at our best when we were around each other. It made me think sometimes that we were two halves of the same soul. “Are you done working yet?” “Yeah, I’m done, Ano. Let’s go play Mario Kart.” The grin that spread across his face was priceless. My speech could wait.

Cole Reynolds Grade 10, Boise

It has become the norm for Doggo to be let home. Owner has many friends to keep safe while they build. The new base has been completed with things now moving in there. Everything has been moved but one thing … Doggo waits for Owner to come home, but Doggo doesn’t lose hope. Owner has to come back, right? Doggo never loses faith. He knows Owner will come back soon. Over time, Doggo thinks of happy memories he had with Owner. When they defeated a hoard of the undead while only using a wooden axe. When Owner had a blind spot, Doggo would cover for it and protect. They protected each other no matter how hard it was. On nights to celebrate a victory, Doggo would be fed a diferent kind of meat. It would be Mystery Friday. Every Friday, Doggo would be praised for the good work he’s done, while Doggo buries Owner with even more love. When they were on an adventure and Doggo was in trouble, he was fed to keep his health in battle. On the most recent adventure, before the new base, Owner and Doggo were wandering through the vast caves. They were in a new area of the cave system and were looking for something new. Owner was almost out of sticks to make torches, still picking up coal on the way. Owner was always ahead of Doggo, and Doggo was okay with that. There could be an audible gasp, an echo in the wide space. The human was quickening its pace as they both sprinted through the rocks. There it was. The thing Owner had come for all along. Diamonds! Owner immediately looked through their inventory for their iron pickaxe. Only an iron pick could cut through the rough stone and even harder ore. Ater a few minutes, the Owner collected all of the diamonds, instantly looking for more. Doggo followed all of the way and kept Owner safe while they were vulnerable. They were this much closer to getting to the nether and following The End. There are three dimensions: Overworld, where land alive thrived; The Nether, hell, covered with netheract and lava; and The End. You can only get to The End with a special portal at a sacred place called a Stronghold. 128

Owner and Doggo are yet to ind one together. But Doggo knows they’ll always be together to ind one. Or so he thinks …

UNFAMILIAR MEADOW

Alyssa Hardman Grade 9, Caldwell

The sky brightens as dawn creeps over the horizon. The mountains seem to glow sotly with the light of the rising sun behind them. I open my eyes to this beautiful view; the light of the sun glowing over the golden wheat and Indian paintbrush in the meadow. I sit up in my bed of golden grass, looking around me. The valley stretches on for miles in all directions, ields of wildlowers and a few scarce yet elegant trees, extending until they suddenly meet the tall, unfamiliar mountains. It is cold in the early morning, and I shiver in my summer clothes. Standing, I survey my immediate surroundings. I am under a tree, which is neither tall nor short. Its branches extend far beyond its trunk, shading a wide area. Tucked high in the branches is a bird’s nest made from the tall, golden grass that is all around me. From my position on the ground, I can only glimpse a sot, pink egg resting there. I can’t help but wonder how long it will be until it hatches, and what kind of bird it will be. My second question is answered immediately as two gorgeous, sapphire blue birds lutter up to the nest, one with yellow wings, the other with red. I watch them fondly as they twitter happily to each other, yet a sense of longing washes over me as I do. They are family and they are together. I am alone.

THE NIGHTSNAKE [EXCERPT]

Logan Harless Grade 10, Boise

“What the hell are you doing?” the Leader screamed at me. “You are supposed to repair the wall with Greystone 453, not Greystone 455! You’re such an idiot!” “At least I didn’t use Blackstone.” My voice was low and calm. I was yelled at almost every day. It rang through my ears when I tried to sleep. “I thought it was a nice touch,” I added before he could continue yelling. “Oh shut up, your opinion is as worthless as you are. Now get out! I don’t want to see your face ever again!” That last sentence was a lie. He wanted to see me again so he could yell at me. It deeply bothered him that he could no longer penetrate my mental shield. He couldn’t make me cry anymore. As I walked away, he shouted, “Oh, and good luck.” This was bad. The last time he had said this, I was beat up upon exiting the compound. I walked quickly, although I knew my fate was sealed. Sure enough, the daughter of the Leader as well as two of her friends stepped out of the shadows. “Well, well, well,” the leader’s daughter, Averna, said. “What do you want?” I said, acting like she wasn’t about to beat me up. With that, she lung her ist at my face, striking my cheek. I was now on the ground. Averna held me in place while her two friends, Chandele and Valena, sunk their ists into my face. There was no point in ighting back, as they had me outnumbered. The punching ceased. Averna stood over me. I could feel my face grow hotter than normal. “You like me, don’t you?” she said, disgusted. I made no reply. All I could see was my plan to escape to the enemy clan. I had heard they needed more builders.

Gretchen Falk Grade 9, Eagle

The wall between us was hundreds of feet tall. As the thunder shook us and lightning lashed, I knew we had to take cover. The thunder kept booming louder and louder as the storm came closer. I ran to ind a way over, but it was no use. “I can’t get over,” I heard him yell. As the rain came down harder and faster, I didn’t know what to do. I kept running, holding the key from earlier, still not knowing what to do with it or where it was supposed to go. “WAIT!” I yelled as I found a door shape in the wall. “It won’t budge, do you have your key still?” As I kept twisting the key in the door, nothing was happening, and my anger was boiling inside me. It smelled of rain and the only thing I could hear was the rain pouring down and my own occasional yells to James across the wall. The wall was massive and there was no way around. I heard a frustrated scream from James. “Hold one, where’s your key?” I yelled. “Right here, why?” he asked. He ran to door, holding the key in his hand. What if there’s another keyhole, I thought to myself. My hair stuck to my forehead and eyes like plaster. James looked the same. As James came close, he started to speak, but I whispered irst. “James, shut up and hurry, the lights are back on,” I said, terriied. This meant the cameras would be back on soon. I saw fear lash in his eyes as he showed me the key again. “What do you need this for?” he asked. It came out rushed and I could tell from his lower voice that he knew about the cameras, too. “Okay, is there a keyhole on your side?” I asked, trying to calm down so we could get out of here more quickly. “No, but there are black boxes like one all over the place, it could go in one of those,” he said before rushing of to look for them. I was as scared as he was, but when he talked, fear was so prominent in his voice that I knew he wanted no part in this, but the others were in trouble, so he insisted on helping. We had no idea what we were getting into.

Kennedy Johnson and Olivia Potts Grade 5, Boise

Part 1: The Nether

Pine sat quietly in her den, letting the cold wind from outside rule her fur. Right now she didn’t care, she didn’t even notice. “Pine,” a voice outside barked. “You’re supposed to be on border patrol.” “Sorry,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. Why did Dusty have to be so rude? It was sad he had been voted patrol organizer. He did the job ine, he just never forgave anyone! Also, if you weren’t on top of his ‘favorites’ list, you got the worst jobs, like checking the border where the forceield was. Once a Midnight hound named Brick stepped a half a centimeter too close to the forceield and was turned into a pile of ash. Pine headed to the border between Frightfull’s ield and the black hills (where the Midnight hounds lived) to meet up with the rest of the patrol. Ater border patrol, Pine headed to Frightfull’s ields. She had become good friends with the unicorn when she accidentally crossed into her land while hunting. She liked to go there when she had nothing better to do. Once at the border, Pine checked to make sure no one was watching. She liked to keep her visits with Frightfull a secret. Pine crossed into Frightfull’s land and headed to the unicorn’s den. “I igured you’d come over sometime today,” Frightfull’s voice caught Pine by surprise. She looked behind her to see Frightfull sitting under a big willow tree. “Hi,” Pine said, a little embarrassed she hadn’t noticed her before now. “Want to go down to the river? I know you have something to tell me.” River. Frightfull always called it a river. Pine had never understood why. She didn’t see the point in pretending it didn’t have magic and you couldn’t touch it and everything. But she also didn’t see why not to pretend it was normal, so she went along with it. They walked in silence down to the River Nether and sat down. “So what do you want to tell me?”

It took Pine a moment to answer. “Do you ever wonder how the world started? I mean, why do we protect the Nether?” “Because it makes people feel too powerful, and power causes war.” “I just wish we knew more about our past, ourselves,” Pine sighed. “A long time ago someone told me I would have to make a choice. A choice that would help us learn our past, or not,” Frightfull said. Before Pine could respond, Frightfull pushed her into the Nether. Water illed her lungs as she fought her way to the surface but the current was too strong.

THE RAIN

Audrey Falk Grade 11, Eagle

I turned from the child and returned to the running woman. “Take him, take him!” she shouted with pathetic desperation. It seemed she had fallen and wounded herself, as she ran with a fresh limp. Her once blonde hair was red with blood and dirt. She ran recklessly, hitting trees and scraping branches as if her intention was to skin herself alive. But she couldn’t run forever, and she didn’t. With a distinct snap, her calf split in two. I walked over to the shrieking woman and looked at what she had done to herself. The red bone stuck out like a tree branch. Then she quieted. All I could hear was the drip of the rain against my skull. I shook it of and grabbed the bone with my jaws. I tugged till I freed the stick and took my spoils back to my den where my children silently slept.