Memories
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“Every object is supposed to imply and symbolize the feeling of being pushed to our limits into chaos. The name of the piece comes from the not-so-direct meanings and messages in the artwork, it’s mostly symbolism that may not make sense to most. With a pencil and a white pen I drew this. I struggled with not smudging the lead but it was inevitable so I just embraced it and either drew over it or let it be. In every hardship there is always something to be learned and hope where we may not expect.”
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“Hi! I’m Kadie Crider, and I created this piece. Titled “Two Sides”, this drawing is meant to represent the hardships that a person can go through, whether that be physically or mentally. While creating this piece, my goal was to show different emotions from each side of the character. I achieved this by changing the facial expressions, as well as choosing a matching color palette to hint at either a lighter or darker feeling from the subject of the drawing. The medium I used to create this was ProCreate. I’ve been doing mostly digital art for around two years now and this piece is a personal favorite of mine. My goal as an artist is to simply improve and further my skills. Working with this drawing for around 10 hours made me learn that time is key to creating something that you are really proud of.”
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“Art is something that is fuid to me. It is diverse. I never feel the need to restrict myself to a particular genre of art. One of my favorite things to do is use the topics of each piece of art to convey the sense of passion and comfort. I experiment with various styles, textures, and mediums. My inspirations are those moments of existence that are simply too elusive to be preserved in a photograph, in an efort to evoke a similar sensation in the viewer.”
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he ghosts of the mansion were sound asleep. Bodhi was about to join them. Turns out that an energy drink, a brief walk through the crisp fall air, and a morning cofee were not as invigorating as he anticipated. He may have stood a chance if it weren’t for the all-nighter he had pulled to fnish his homework, his upcoming morning shift completely skipping his frazzled mind.
So instead of sleeping in, on his well-deserved day of, he was stuck flling out tour paperwork at the weirdest mansion in this neck of the woods.
This was not Bodhi’s day.
To make matters worse, his pen had just run its ink dry. He chucked it aside, sighing, before looking towards the cup of pens in front of him.
Whoever has used this desk last needed to be fred immediately. Dozens of papers were strewn across the table’s polished surface. Pencil shavings were littered everywhere. Pen ink marked up the ornate wood. The only portion that remained clean was the portion at the top dedicated to an ancient quill pen stored in a tiny wooden circle.
“Oh, that thing? It’s not worth using,” Bodhi’s boss had said when he pointed it out. “It dried
up a long time ago. But the family doesn’t want it thrown away. It has some signifcance or something, they didn’t elaborate.”
No one bothered with it. They just used diferent pens. Bodhi reached out for one now, its ink spreading across this new paper like water.
The throes of sleep called out to Bodhi from another dimension. Their spells were enchanting, so sinister yet so captivating. He waited as they crept closer and closer. Finally, they took root deep within him like ivy, crushing his limbs with the weight of wakefulness. The bliss of sleep overtook him quickly.
His eyelids grew heavy. His thoughts slowed down. He rested on the table, curled his arm up above his head —
Something crashed onto the foor. He jolted awake.
The quill pen had been knocked out of its circle. The remnants of it lay there pathetically, its fragile body snapped by the harsh landing.
And then the spell began.
Purple mist fooded out from the cracks. It spread quickly, brushing over Bodhi’s feet. He yelped, jumping up from his chair as fast as possible. He rushed to the opposite corner of
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the room, praying the door would open and he could escape.
He tried it once. Twice. It was locked.
He turned around and screamed. The mist had already reached him. He debated what to do next – how long can I hold my breath for? – but before he could do anything, he slumped to the foor. The room swirled and contorted around him. Everything was bright and dark and loud and quiet and oh no he was breathing it in no no no no no
He opened his eyes slowly.
Oh, he knew this place. It was the master bedroom of the mansion. He’d subbed in as a tour guide for one of his coworkers a few times when she was sick, and he remembered the purple sheets of the bed, a shade so rich and royal it could put every king and queen to shame.
Maybe he’d been taken here. His boss must’ve found him downstairs and delivered him to the frst bed he saw. Sure, it was forbidden for guests to touch the furniture, and there were morning tours, but he worked here and he didn’t know how long it had been. Surely that was the case?
The door opened. Bodhi screamed in unison with the woman who walked in.
Bodhi looked at her. Really analyzed her, her features. Dark hair, a large mole on her cheek, round eyes. Her heavy coat. Her large hat with an even bigger fowered ribbon. She looked straight out of a history book, one that he had read before. He mentally combed through his college textbooks, his book of the mansion— and it suddenly came to him.
“You’re… Amelie Fitzgerald.”
“I certainly am.”
There wasn’t a soul working at the mansion who didn’t know who Amelie Fitzgerald was. The socialite wife of oil tycoon Thomas Fitzgerald, she frequently hosted lavish parties that were the talk of the town afterwards. The setting? Her mansion. This mansion.
But her residency here wasn’t the main source of her notoriety. No, no, that would be too simple a reason. It was her supposed role in the mysterious disappearance of her husband at one of those parties, under this very roof. Thomas had returned home one late night after work, straight into a party. They say he vanished with Amelie later in the night into the woods.
She escaped. He never did.
“Who are you?” he cried.
“Who are you?” she yelled in return.
“Bodhi Marshall!” he said. “I work here!”
Her eyes widened in horror. “But…I…I live here! You are not one of my servants!”
Some guests say melie’s long red dress had been dirtied by the time she returned. That she had a crazed glint in her eye when she spoke. That maybe she could’ve gotten away with it if her closest friend, equally famous socialite
Clara Franklin, hadn’t ratted her out to the authorities.
The tale rocked the town. Everyone there knew the intricacies of that night: Thomas’ previous
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location, Amelie’s stained dress, Clara’s betrayal. The tour guides knew it even better.
Bodhi may not have been an o cial tour guide, but he knew the mansion. He knew the story.
This was Amelie Fitzgerald, and she was not one to be trusted.
“Well…” said Bodhi. “I don’t know how to explain this to you. Um… I’m from the future. 2018. The mansion’s a museum now. Later.” He grimaced, searching for the right words. “I broke a pen and this weird mist came out of it. And then I fainted. And now I’m right here. I don’t even know.”
The words seemed to bounce around in Amelie’s head for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “Do you know how to go back to the present?”
“No, not really.”
“Hm. Then I suppose you can stay here.”
“Oh!” said Bodhi. “Thank you! I appreciate it!”
“It seemed like the kindest thing to do.” She turned and walked out the door. “Do not make a sound, now! It is high time for a party,” she returned to grab the duster she had been searching for, “and you shall not intervene!”
Bodhi turned to the grand window. The sky was already beginning to dim, golden light fooding the room. It turned the purple bedspread into a rich maroon. Amelie was right. This was the time for a party.
He watched the sun sink further and further below the horizon, yawning as every last drop of light leaked from the room. He counted the number of light breezes that blew through the windows, losing count after fve. In the pitch darkness, he blinked blearily.
This change into the past was too much. He was so tired. He needed to sleep. But the noise downstairs was too loud, and that was what fought of the spells calling out to him.
If he was going to stay awake, he may as well fnd some light. He got up and moved towards what he thought were the cabinets, rummaging around for a candle and matchbox. He found neither.
But then I have to go downstairs, he thought. Amelie’s down there
Somewhere in his sleep-deprived mind, he reconsidered. He got up and left the room without a second thought.
The grand staircase was just down the hall. He’d wait until Amelie came into view downstairs, left, and then he’d steal one of the candles from the front lobby.
He waited. And waited.
Until– “Tom!”
Bodhi dove aside. He still peeked out through the slats of the stairwell, eyeing the source of the voice warily. Amelie strutted out into the lobby, her back turned to Bodhi. She wore a red dress now.
He sat there for who knows how long, awaiting further instruction. The downstairs area brightened with chatter as the bedroom darkened.
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She opened the door. Thomas Fitzgerald walked inside the house. He looked normal, really – besides the suit, he had no other major identifying features. Just a simple haircut, only slightly tousled from the wind.
“Let me take your coat,” Amelie suggested. Her smile was wide and bright, even from this distance. “Would you like to join the party?”
“No, that’s quite alright,” said Thomas. “I’m simply exhausted. I’m going to turn in for the evening.”
“I can–”
“I can do it myself.”
“But–”
“Amelie. No.”
Amelie looked at him. “Okay.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I was going to take a walk, anyway. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Then Thomas turned to the stairs.
Bodhi jumped up and stepped into the closest room available. It was a tiny closet, and he was almost sure he wouldn’t ft, but fortunately, Thomas strode into the master bedroom, which was the opposite direction.
Bodhi stood there like a statue. Minutes passed. Or hours, not that he could tell. Was this the evening? It had to be, right? Amelie’s dress, Thomas’ late arrival, the nighttime party… what else could it be? But then why hadn’t she left with him? Or was that due to happen still? Would he—
The door to the master bedroom creaked open. Thomas stepped out and walked towards, then down the staircase once more.
Then: “Mr. Fitzgerald! How are you?”
“Clara! So nice to see you.”
Bodhi gasped quietly.
“Would you care for a little stroll outside with me? It’s so dull in here.”
“Let’s.”
Another door creaked open. Bodhi couldn’t resist anymore; he stepped out of his closet. He turned to the stairwell, just as the front door closed behind Tom and Clara Franklin.
There was no way he was passing up this opportunity.
He crept down the staircase, quiet as a mouse. He looked both ways, making sure the coast was clear, and when he was sure he was safe, he stepped outside.
Clara and Tom were on the edge of the woods across the road, so wrapped up in conversation that they didn’t dare to look back. To be safe, Bodhi tiptoed into the shadows of the landing, just out of sight where if they turned around, he’d be secluded. He waited until they had fully entered the woods before making his way down the steps.
He made up ground quickly. The nice thing about summer is that there were no snow piles to be stepped in, or leaves to crunch, or twigs to snap. He could simply keep moving forward on the blades of grass underneath his rather
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untimely sneakers. Murmurs from Clara and Tom came into earshot.
Now he was beginning to make out words.
“...enjoy…sleep…never felt…thought we’d fooled…Tom…divorce…”
“I want to be yours, Tom.”
Bodhi stopped in his tracks.
“I mean it. You could run from this house, this town. My family hails from upstate. I could send a letter to my brother and he could pick us up in his carriage.”
“That is foolish.” A pause. “It is quite the admirable trait.” A giggle. It made Bodhi’s stomach churn.
But before he could consider the conversation further, he heard Clara’s whisper. He couldn’t make out her words. He could only guess as he saw Tom dash further into the woods.
“Tom Be careful There’s a drop-of ahead ” yelled Clara, further away now.
They were fully out of sight soon, swallowed up by darkness. Bodhi was about to turn around, armed with material for Amelie —
help? Put his own life in danger? There was no right answer. Really, what is one supposed to do when they witness such tragedies?
He had one idea. He wanted to sleep. To dream of the imminent future, to go back to the present where, sure, he was chronically tired and unmotivated to achieve his dreams, but it was also where he knew the chances of being the witness to a death was rather unlikely.
The lack of noise produced by the grass may have been his fatal faw. He almost didn’t notice Clara until she was feet away from him.
“What are you—?” she cried out. There was a feral glint in her eyes.
Almost like the one Amelie supposedly—
“You know!” she screamed. “You know far too much!”
Bodhi turned. He sprinted.
“Tell. Me!” Clara howled behind him. “What do you know? What did you hear? I know you’re one of Amelie’s dirty little scoundrels! Tell me!”
I’m so tired.
“You mustn’t tell a soul! Not one!”
And then his blood turned to ice as he heard Clara’s screams.
“TOM!” was all he heard. “TOM!”
Her anguished cries echoed throughout the woods. cacophony of of-key wails.
What was Bodhi supposed to do? Run? Cry for
I could sleep right here.
“I’ll have you know! He fell down the hill! It wasn’t me! It was steep and he tripped and snapped his neck! It wasn’t me!”
I can’t run any more.
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“You hear? IT WASN’T ME!”
By some miracle, Bodhi made it to the mansion frst. He panted heavily as he climbed the stairs, crawled into the living room, collapsed into the frst wooden stool he saw, ignoring everyone staring at him.
He rested his head on the table. There was a beautiful, ornate quill pen lying in a little wooden circle. orgeous work, really. It looked new.
ll at once, he knew what he had to do.
He grabbed the pen.
“Bodhi!”
He opened his eyes.
“Oh my goodness ” It was his boss, looking over him. “We were about to call Now tell me. What on od’s green earth happened here?”
Bodhi looked around the room. The people were gone. It was morning. No mist, either. He was back in the present.
“Bodhi? What happened?”
He looked up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He’d sleep another day.
“It wasn’t melie.”
.,,.,,,...,..,,., .,.,,. ,...,.,
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JESSICA TELLEZ SILVESTRE
It was May 23rd 2022, it was a normal sunny day in Seattle, Washington. I was just on my way to get ice cream, lay in the sun and read. at was when I saw my best friend while I was parking in the beautiful lot that has blue owers and bright green grass, that’s always freshly cut, that always used to soothe me because I loved the smell, and that’s always there every spring and summer. I go and yell at the top of my lungs “ HEY NOAH’’ he just looks all over the place so confused not knowing where I had been calling him from and who even was calling him. He nally sees me, and waves, I could see him smiling from across the street. I yelled at him to wait for me, I parked my car as fast as I could and ran up to him. He sees me and gives me a huge hug. His hugs always made me feel like I wasn’t able to breathe but I never minded his su ocating hugs because he always smells like fresh baked cookies mixed with strawberries. He had never smelled like actual men’s cologne which I was always ne with because it’d give me massive headaches and he knew that.
He says “hey Mia, it’s been awhile since i’ve seen you, i missed you’’ even if i had just seen him two days ago at school, the way he hugged me always made me feel safe in many ways that no one else could and ever would. Even if I couldn’t breathe it always made me feel safe.
I never could gure out why. Maybe it was because I knew I was hugging him. Maybe it was the way he would basically pick me up because he’s 6’5 and I’m only 5’ 2. I had later on told him my plans about getting ice cream and reading. He had insisted on joining me so I wouldn’t be lonely even if I liked my peace and quiet. We went on to buy ice cream together, disregarding if he had his own plans which I’m guessing he did but he said it was all okay. We had gotten the ice cream avors we always used to get. I got cookies and cream, he got chocolate with cookie crumbs. A er we got our ice cream, we walked around the park, laid on a deck looking at the lake looking at the sunset and talked. Everytime we hangout it’s just us talking about the most random stu , we’d always nd new things to talk about, without ever running out of breath or getting bored. Hours and hours of us just talking, and looking at the sky. He had always known that I loved watching sunsets because it calmed me, he had always hated them because he never really saw the beauty in them but he watched it with me. I never got to read my book but it was all ne, I preferred talking to him more. at whole day we just talked, ate our ice cream and walked around enjoying our time together watching the sunset.
Noah and I have been best friends since elementary school, he sat next to me on the rst day of 5th grade and we’ve been best friends
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since then. We’re in junior year of high school now. I feel like I’ve known him my whole life, probably because it has been a long time. One huge problem has been that since freshman year of highschool I’ve liked him. I won’t say anything about it, and I won’t do anything about it. It’d just ruin our friendship and I’d lose my best friend, and I never wanted that to happen. He has a girlfriend, Avery, she has light brown eyes with hints of green, long brown and blonde wavy hair, she has the kindest smile and the warmest hugs. She looks like she wears the same four things over and over but no, she just has the same type of pants and shirts. Kind of basic but I never said anything about it because as long as Noah was happy I was happy for him. Noahs been dating her since the beginning of sophomore year. Avery doesn’t go to our high school, they met during summer, the summer before sophomore year but they always ALWAYS hang out. Most of the time they try to be nice and invite me but it just makes me feel single and sometimes le out, but it’s the gesture that counts, I guess. I know they don’t mean to make me feel le out so I always just appreciate the time we all spend together. ey’re so cute together so no matter how big my feelings are for Noah, I’d never get in between them. I’ve been thinking about it and it’s been way past time to move on from him. A er hanging out with him, I went to drop him o because he lives around 20
minutes away from me and i didnt want him to walk home even if we were close to his house. His car had broken down a couple of weeks before and they were still working on it. As soon as I got home I noticed how much fun I have with him and realized it was nally time to move on, because I wouldn’t want to ruin how much fun we have as friends by telling him I liked him especially because Noahs and Averys relationship was so strong, and i cared about them both in every way. A er a month or so, it took some time but eventually I moved on, I had realized it’ll never happen and that we were way better o as friends. Since then mine and Noah’s friendship has been stronger than ever, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. It’s June 7th right now and summer just started, the summer before senior year! Noah, Avery and I all went to get ice cream and go to the lake. It was a beautiful sunny day. A er a while, I went home. I was kind of sick of being a third wheel. Everything was perfect for the rest of the summer. I hung out with Noah and Avery a lot more trying not to feel le out but I always did, wasn’t their fault it just made me feel a little like a third wheel. School later on started for Noah and I, since Avery didn’t go to our school she started at a di erent time. is year it felt di erent, I could feel it, maybe it was because it’s our last year of high school! I didn’t know where the feeling was coming from but it felt di erent from all the other years. I also
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didn’t know if what I was feeling was a good or bad thing but I hoped it was good. Sadly I was way wrong, it was perfect for the rst month of school, Noah and I had all of our classes together just how we always liked it. If we didn’t have a class together we’d ask to switch it like always. Him and Avery have had a lot of problems in their relationship since school started. Noah had told me it was because they didn’t see each other as much but he told me it was all ne so I obviously believed him. A er a month or so of school, on October 4th, Noah spam texted me and called me. I was taking my daily nap so I didn’t see any of his texts or calls until an hour a er because I had always been a heavy sleeper. I responded as soon as I woke up but he told me to call him, so I realized it was something very important, because we never call unless it’s something we can’t bear to type. I called him and he yelled “MIA” I had just woken up so that made me wide awake, I even jumped out of bed, but it wasn’t in the *OMG MIA SOMETHING EXCITING JUST HAPPENED I NEED TO TELL YOU* it was more of the *i really need to talk about something* so I asked what was wrong but through the phone I could hear the sadness in his voice, from him just saying my name, I could tell he didn’t know what to say because he couldn’t even speak. his voice cracking every time he tried to say something, i could hear the tears rushing down his face, the gasping for air and
him trying to calm himself down. I could hear all the pain he was going through without even knowing what was happening. I tried calming him down, telling him to breathe in and out, and telling him to take his time. He took a couple of minutes to tell me so I was nervous to hear what he was going to say. I had known Noah for basically what felt like my whole life and he wasn’t a very emotional person. I think in our whole friendship I had only seen him cry two times. So hearing him panicking, crying, and not being able to catch his own breath, I was panicking, I didn’t know what to do. en he nally said “We broke up.” at was all he said. It wasn’t anything that would a ect me as much but I could feel the water in my own eyes lling up til it was so much and I could feel the tears running down my cheek, the salty drops of water. I didn’t know what to say, I was so shocked because Noah had told me everything was ne but a er a while I nally came up with the guts to say “What happened?” He had told me that Avery lost feelings a while ago but didn’t want to say anything, and she was upset she would rarely see him and felt like she couldn’t talk to him about anything without it turning into an argument anymore. I understood why Avery had broken up with him because not seeing your own boyfriend hurts but it hurts even more to see my best friend sad like that. ey decided to stay friends since they thought that was for the best
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but I was heartbroken, I knew how much she meant to Noah so I didn’t know how to react even if deep down I knew it was for the best if they would always argue. A er three hours of talking on the phone I had to go but felt horrible about it. I helped Noah move on a er that, it de nitely took a while considering they were together for what felt like a lifetime. A er that it felt di erent hanging out with him without Avery there. We would hangout without Avery before but this time it felt di erent, not in a good way but not exactly in a bad way. Avery had been a part of both of our lives ever since Noah had met her. So for her to just be gone it felt di erent but Noah and I both knew it was for the best because for weeks I could tell Noah was stressed out about something but I never quite gured out what it was. A er he and Avery broke up it calmed down so I had just suspected it had something to do with Avery but when I would ask he would never say anything to me and just pretend like nothing had happened.
It was nally December. I had been with someone for around a month and a half, it was going amazing. His name was John, he had brown u y hair and blue eyes with gray sparkles. I had met him in one of the classes Noah and I had together. He became Noah’s friend and that’s how I started talking to John, John is someone very special to me. Every year Noah and I have a special tradition, where every
week before Christmas we hangout and watch every Christmas movie possible. is year Noah wanted to cancel because a week before what was usually our movie marathon, we got into a huge argument. e biggest argument we have ever had was over John because he felt like I was spending too much time with John and would rarely see Noah. He said I could just invite him along but I never ever wanted Noah to feel like a third wheel so I never invited him but he felt le out anyways. Noah never knew I had always felt like a third wheel, I never wanted him to feel bad about it, especially now since they had broken up and it was way in the past by now. Eventually I convinced Noah to come over and keep our tradition. I promised him it’d change and I’d invite him along to hangout with us. His car had nally gotten xed so I had him go pick up some snacks for us. On his way back, I got a call from an unknown number. I answered anyway just to see if it was something important. To my surprise it WAS something important, Noah had gotten into a terrible car crash, because the road was too slippery. He was on the way to the hospital, so I rushed over there. On my way there I called John telling him about the whole thing. I was ugly crying, not knowing what to do the whole way to the hospital. I was nervous, scared, shocked, I felt all the horrible emotions in the world, my best friend was in a terrible condition and I could do nothing to help him.
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Once I got to the hospital I thought it was best to text Avery and tell her everything because they were still friends and cared for each other. Avery and I spent the rest of the day at the hospital with his family. When his parents asked what he was even doing on the road I bursted into tears, saying I had told him to get snacks for us and he was on his way to my house for our stupid movie marathon that I had forced him to go to. ey could see the pain and sorrow in my dark brown eyes so they comforted me right there on the blue and orange chairs that looked faded like someone had sat there for years on end, wiped my tears away, gave me tissues, told me it wasn’t my fault and told me the words I had needed to hear since I had gotten that call but deep down I knew they were all thinking it was my fault and I didn’t blame them. Every second I was in the hospital, every second his parents were holding me and comforting me, every second that i could hear the lights buzzing in the hospital, all i could do was just sit there, all i could ever think about was the phone call, the phone call that ruined my whole life, when my heart just dropped, where i dropped my phone not knowing what to do, where i bursted into tears knowing whatever i do wouldn’t change a thing.
A couple of days later Noah died. I lost myself, my grades had dropped, I was even at risk of not graduating, I was valedictorian so it meant a lot to me that I was at risk of not graduating,
but it felt like I couldn’t do anything about it, I felt weak. I had broken up with John, I stopped going to school, and if I did go to school I would just not go to class. I stopped being my usual self because it felt like a part of me had just disappeared into thin ice, out of nowhere. A er the funeral I just lost it, lost myself, lost everything. It took a couple of months, but eventually I started going to school again, I got my grades up, I was still valedictorian because they thought I was an amazing example for other students, because I bought myself back up. Which is stupid because I brought myself back up for him. Pretending to feel okay just so people around me wouldn’t worry anymore. At points it still hurts, seeing the empty spot at my table, not sharing food with him, forcing him to buy me a drink from the vending machine because i didn’t have money, seeing someone else using his locker and always passing by while my stomach was turning because that was where we would meet up every morning, having to become friends with new people knowing none of them would ever understand me like how he did, having to go everyday without talking to him. He had le me a voicemail the day he got into the car crash, telling me he got all the snacks and that he was on his way.
Everyday for a whole month a er he died I would listen to that voicemail, over and over. In his hoodies, on the oor in my bedroom
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crying. His hoodies sometimes still smell like him and it feels like he’s next to me like how he always used to be, I miss his shoulder that I would always lay my head on, how I would always have to look up to talk to him because he was a giant. Avery and I still kept in contact, we’d see each other and get ice cream like how we all used to do once. I started getting chocolate with cookie crumbs just to remind myself that Noah was still a part of my life because I knew he always would be. Avery and I never really talked about Noah because we thought it’d be a hard subject to talk about but one day Avery and I nally had the guts to talk about what happened. She started it by reassuring me that it wasn’t my fault, she was the only person that knew I felt like it was my fault. It felt nice knowing people didn’t blame it on me even if it was my fault. Later on I told her he was heartbroken when she told him she had lost feelings for him. She said “what do you mean?” i looked at her confused and said “you know because you broke up with him because you lost feelings?” She looked in awe, she took a deep breath trying to think of words. I was confused the whole time and just sat there waiting for the next words to come out of her mouth. She nally said “Mia, you do know we didn’t break up because of that right?” i was surprised my best friend of years had lied to me? Noah and i never kept secrets from each other so i was even more confused, I didn’t know how to re-
act but before i could say anything else she said “I had asked him if he was losing feelings and he later on told me that he liked you, he had always been in love with you and then I broke up with him” i didn’t know what to say but all that came out of my mouth was “im so sorry” we nished our ice cream, talked about other things ignoring everything that had just happened and went our separate ways. On my way home I didn’t know what or how to feel.
It de nitely made me realize a lot more, to not take anything for granted and to just live life no matter what. To take risks, he was my best friend and the guy I had liked for three years, and I never did anything about it, he was gone and he never knew I loved him. It was all over and at some point I had nally found peace with it.
It’s been four years since he passed. I live in Orlando, Florida trying to live the life he had always wanted. I still think about him from time to time, and I won’t ever forget about him, his bright blue eyes that look like the deep ocean, his bright white teeth with his huge smile that would always show his dimples. e way his hair would just op in the best way ever, the way he could hear me talk about nothing for hours with no end, and never make me feel bad about it. e way he was always there for me. I’ve had many best friends, but none of them were ever like Noah, no one could ever take his place and no one ever will.
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THE SALLY STORY
By Saadiyah Siddiqui
The following text was published in the August edition of the Evening Ballad. It was submitted by an anonymous man to spread the story about a girl in a crystal. The factual integrity of this story is highly disputed, seeing as there’s no one left from the time this story took place that is living. Nor are there records about this event. Therefore, we recommend that you read with caution and do not take this story to heart.
The townspeople gaped and gasped at the sight. It was a strange one that deserves some gaping and gasping but not the gossip that comes with it. At least, that’s what I think nowadays. Back then, I was mildly annoyed with it because it detracted from business. But this story isn’t about me so I’ll continue on.
The sight in question was a girl, no older than fourteen, with plain brown eyes and almost just as plain mousy brown hair. That wasn’t important though. The important part was the fact that she was encased inside of a light blue crystal. It was a transparent crystal that was cut in a marquise shape and had no scratches.
The mayor of the town at the time, Mayor Smith, was the frst to spin a detail for a story about The Girl. It’s obvious to me now that... Well, maybe I’ll let you fgure it out for yourselves like Ihad to.
“This girl is certainly mysterious but fear not! I have a name for her. Referring to her as ‘The Girl’ is certainly rude is it not? From this day forth, we shall call her Sally!”
The Girl, or Sally, didn’t say a word. Her face simply remained in its previous appearance, eyes closed and mouth pressed in a thin line. She didn’t look scared. She
actually looked at peace, almost like she was sleeping. The next person to create a piece in the story was Mrs. Harvey, a classic (and stereotypical) gossiping housewife. She had two little ones, a husband and a dog. The essential nuclear family, no doubt about it..
“I bet she’s a dancer! Probably ballet! My daughter does ballet and the two look very similar. ”
Sally still didn’t say a word. Not even so much of a twitch of her nose or a raising of her eyebrow. I feel terrible for her now. For all we knew, she could have hated dancing.
The town’s mechanic, Miss Jenkins, went next. She was actually a pretty decent person. I don’t say that about many people so take that as you will.
“I bet she’s a bubbly and funny girl! She looks perky enough wouldn’t’cha say Mr. Williams?”
Mr. Williams, the baker, only nodded in response. He was a quiet one and I quite respect that now. Back then, as much as I hate to admit it, his silence scared the dickens out of me.
By the time the sun had set in the sky, most people in town had contributed
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at least one thread to the growing tapestry which I will now refer to as, “The Sally Story”. A bit on the nose but I was never good at naming things. I am decent at clearly explaining things though and I will try to explain The Sally Story to whoever’s reading this now.
The girl’s full name was Sally Margaret Daniels. Miss Sally was the oldest daughter out of two. Her mother was a merchant and her father was a teacher. Her favorite color was pink and she despised the color blue. The one thing she hated more than the color blue was running. She had no patience for it. Miss Sally had the most outgoing and cheerful disposition of all of her peersand was her village’s sweetheart. She loved to sing and dance. In fact (not really), every time she spoke it’d sound like the song of a nightingale. She was like an ingenue from the movies. Her birthday was in the springtime. They said that when she was born, the sun was shining and the sky was cloudless for once in her village’s many years.
I mentioned earlier that she was her village’s sweetheart and implied that she was well liked but I suppose that’s not the whole truth.
According to the legend, there was a man named Alistair Edmonds. Mr. Edmonds was a cynical man (not too unlike myself now that I think about it) and despised most people in the town. He had a malicious aura about him that made the villagers wary about him. Almost as if something was repelling them from him. It was the strangest thing. I think that it’s part of human nature to dislike the things that hate you. You may not hate them, but you at least feel some sort of annoyance. Like the urge to tear their hair out next time you see’em. I’ve never felt oth-
erwise. Neither did the villagers for that matter.
In this particular case, like I stated earlier, they avoided Mr. Edmonds like the plague. Whenever he came in, everyone went quiet and went eerily still. It would be as if time had frozen. After some time of that, they’d start to scurry like rats to wherever he wasn’t. The villagers would later say that it had felt like they were under a spell that was making them leave where he was.
Sally, being the sweetheart we assumed she was, had absolutely no qualms about talking to the man. She tried to befriend the man but failed. Mr. Edmonds simply wasn’t interested. He was actually really annoyed with her attempts. So the clear solution was to put an end to her and her never ending game of twenty questions.
Mo ing on, it was the f teenth day of the twelfth month that Mr. Edmond put his plan into e e t. Interestingly enough, the Mayor actually hired a team of writers to come up with a suitable enough event. The writers even invented dialogue. The most impressive part was that they fnished it in under twel e hours. The worst part was that they only had twelve hours to put together a story. Not the ideal time frame but I suppose they didn’t have a choice.
The scene began with Miss Sally going on her weekly errand run. She needed sugar and eggs for a cake she was going to bake. Speci cally, a carrot cake. She was just about done with buying the items when Mr. Edmond appeared with a book.
e book was said to be a bleak gray with a small symbol on the cover. It had peculiar lettering on the front that no one could decipher. e writers made a speci
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mention that it was written in a whole nother language that no one knew and came from a mysterious origin.
Mr. Edmond declared to the people in the town square, “To all that shall hear this message; let this be a warning for you all!”
He then stalked towards Miss Sally and began to mutter something strange. It didn’t sound like a language anyone knew. There was a loud commotion from the crowd. Chattering and shouting from every possible location. But there was one scream out of many that made itself known despite the noise:
“It’s wizardry! He’s going to curse Miss Sally!”
The cacophony of sound only got worse after that.
Among the noise, Miss Sally cried out, “Oh, please no! I’ll do anything, just please don’t hurt me! I have a family and I can’t leave them just yet!”
To save us all some time, there was a lot of back and forth. It usually consisted of Mr. Edmond threatening Miss Sally and Miss Sally replying with some sort of excuse or plea to live. Whenthis story frst ame out o ially hey published it into a boo ust a ter the writers fnished writing), I had to skip at least two pages of this before the story picked up again. Luckily, I’m not one of the underpaid and overworked writers who wrote that part so I’ll spare you from it.
he fght , i you ould e en all it that, ended with Mr. Edmond putting his pointer and middle fnger together and lowered his ring and pin y fngers so they ormed a fnger gun. e ui ly re ited the urse and launched it at Sally.
The dust kicked up and the villag
ers were left coughing and gagging on sand and debris from the ground. Some of it got into their eyes which was a real pain to wash out later. I don’t envy those people. Nor do I envy the ones who were holding groceries and had to drop them to shield their eyes.
It wasn’t until around ten minutes after that the villagers realized two things.
One, Miss Sally was missing. Two, Mr. Edmond was missing. The villagers were clearly distraught about this. The prodigal daughter, Sally Margaret Daniels, had been snatched by black magic right under their noses. Miss Sally’s father wept and wept until he had no more left to cry. Miss Sally’s mother wouldn’t speak to anyone. She simply shut down and became unresponsive to the world.
Miss Sally’s sister, on the other hand, was angry. No, anger would be too delicate of a word to describe the utter wrath she had felt. Her wrath was turbulent and vengeful enough to make even a volcano or some other natural disaster quiver with fear. She, of course, felt grief over losing her sister but the outrage she felt was tenfold that of her grief.
Her reasoning, you may ask? Acording to the o ial Sally Story, this is what she had to say:
“My sister isn’t dead, idiots. She’s missing whi h means we an still fnd her. That doesn’t explain my anger but I’ll say it once and only once, you hear? The man who made her disappear is still out there. How do you expect me to not be angry when we still haven’t caught Edmond.”
If any of this were true, I’d respect that reasoning.
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When I frst got through this part, my only thought was, So how did Miss Sally get here
hat did get answered, ust not in depth. r that well or that matter. he urther I get into telling this story, the more remorse I eel or the o ial writers o he Sally Story.
hey said that the urse was that she’d be sent to a ar away pla e in the uture stu in a blue rystal. I guess the ar away pla e in the uture was our small town. It would ma e sense. ter all, we were a simple, tiny oal mining town on the edge o somewhere.
hat was where the story ended.
s a young, stupid boy ust out o high s hool, the story made sense to me.eryone else belie ed it, so why shouldn’t I oo ing ba on it, the whole thing was terribly wrong.
Miss Sally stayed in her rystal prison or our wee s. uring that time, many people rom the town began spreading the word to other towns. rom our town, to the neighboring illage until it rea hed the apital o our nation. Soon enough, e eryone had heard o he Sally Story.
eople rom all o er mo ed into town. It was surreal. My girl riend at the time had remar ed to me, Seems li e the only reason people ome here anymore is to get a glimpse at some rystal. She was right. here wasn’t anything interesting about the town. othing besides a ourteen year old girl trapped in a rystal, most li ely against her own will.
ow, the Mayor was ha ing a feld day with it. e made press releases almost daily about new updates and things o the li e. e made sure tours were being gi en out and boo sales were up.
nything he ould do to ma e Miss Sally nown, he’d do it.
I said earlier that Miss Sally was here or our wee s. ter our wee s, she had ompletely disappeared. ne day she was in her rystal, eyes losed and lips losed, and the ne t she was gone. It onused e eryone. he only uestion swirling in our heads was, Where did Sally Margaret aniels go
he Mayor was in a ti y, Mrs. ar ey was wailing as i she had lost a hild, Ms. en ins had a loo o melanholy and Mr. Williams didn’t say anything as per usual.
ow that I thin about it, maybe he truly new how horrible the situation was. his e ent happened f ty years ago and yet I an’t bring mysel to orget about it. It was thirty years ago that I had an epiphany about how messed up it all was. Whi h brings me to the present.
o Miss Sally’s I’d use her real name i I new what it was amily and riends, I’m truly sorry about what happened to your daughter. I hope you ound losure, truly. I’m sorry or standing idly by while your daughter was being used or proft. I will pro oundly regret these hoi es or the rest o my li e.
o Miss Sally hersel , I’m sorry. I don’t now i you were ons ious in your rystal prison but i you were, I’m sure it must ha e been hell to ha e to listen to us ma e those assumptions about you based on nothing but appearan es. I sin erely hope you ha e ound reedom and the li e you deser e.
I now my words may mean nothing to you and your amily, but I mean them. I am sorry.
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Leaves ew through the air as pieces of dirt threatened to y into Aisha’s half-closed eyes. Her maroon hijab wasn't made for the heat nor the winds of summer, trying to fall o her head. “What does the world have against me?,” she thought.
Letting out a short grunt, she put one hand on her head and quickly ran into the school. Her friends waited for her at the edge of the classroom that they'd been secretly using since the start of the semester. ey had found it when Aisha tried to get her best friends, Noah and Chowon, to join her lm & media club. Aisha jogs towards them, her hands by her side, no longer caring about the wind.
“What took you so long?” Noah hu ed, crossing his arms. A smirk slowly spread across his face as he watched her pant from the sudden jog.
“Sorry, Ammi made me watch Zain all a ernoon, plus Chowon took too long on call” Chowon shrugged her shoulders, showing no shame.
“Maybe you should just hang up next time,”
she said, icking her hair behind her shoulder. Leading them into the room, Chowon handed them each their editing checklist, which was for their recently shot vlog and podcast.
“Aisha, edit the vlog and make sure to not add that creepy bgm this time” she shuddered.
“It's not that bad, you just need to watch more horror lms” Aisha replied, giving her best horror face.
ey both sent each other playful stares, giggling. A hand cut between their views, breaking the staring contest.
“Get to work girls”
Placing her supplies on a near table, Aisha grabbed her tablet and sat on a window cushion. She peered through the window, letting out a sigh. e a ernoon sun was slowly covered by the well-waited clouds, creating the shadows of summer's eight o’clock. e trees shi ed in large movements, the wind being the obvious culprit.
“I wish I was the wind,” she muttered. “I’d blow all my responsibilities way”
Her mom had le for work early again, leaving
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her in charge of her little brother for the hundredth time. at on top of school work was enough to wear her down.
“Did you say something?” Chowon asked from across the room. “You're whispering again” Snapping out of the trance she was in, she looked up to see her friends staring at her. “Oh, I didn't say anything, sorry”.
Noah gave a knowing smile and Chowon gave a shrug, continuing to work.
Aisha bit her lip hard, trying to focus on the task in front of her. is happened frequently, her mind was always thinking about something else. e responsibilities that weren’t hers but came with the package of being the oldest child not only exhausted her, but let her dream of the possibilities that the world might give her once she was older. Her eyes slowly shi ed back to the window and the world outside the classroom. A blue bird ew by, swi ly landing on a tree. Soon a er its landing, three little birds came out and seemingly called out for food.
Letting out a little giggle, Aisha brought her
tablet to the edge of the window and took a picture of the birds. A er minutes of staring, she let out a yawn, eyes feeling a little heavy. She looked towards her friend and saw them bickering with each other, paying no mind to her. “I guess I’m the only one not working,” she thought. Laying her head down on the cushioned seat, she slowly closed her eyes, falling into a deep sleep.
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