Creations 2022 Literary Magazine

Nostalgia

Dear Reader

Nostalgia: A sentimentality longing or wistful affection for the past.

Etymology: Greek - “nostos” meaning return or home, and “algos” meaning pain.

A sense of returning overwhelms the soul when experiencing a moment from the past. Stillness is an impossibility in life, so our excessive yearning for what has once occurred but will never again is achingly unexplainable. But one can also feel nostalgic for something that has not yet happened.

This year’s theme, Nostalgia, stems from the idea of people, places, and ideas of the past, present, and future because, at one point, every moment we have lived will become history. Despite being the last sense to develop after birth, sight is what imprints the most vivid memories on us. It is how we recall information, how we keep ourselves safe. Things I’ve Seen includes pieces highlighting vision and instances of how what we see truly changes us. Each interaction with another person shapes us and makes our personality into what it is. Constantly shifting and evolving, People I’ve Known illuminates how who we’ve known thoroughly influences who we are.

Good and bad experiences create our narrative, some more known than others. What I’ve Been Through contains art showing how we cannot forget what’s happened but should take from it what we can and grow.

Finally, Where I Will Go culminates in places metaphorical and literal; the peace of finding yourself, the comfort of finding home, the joy of trying something new. The future is inevitable, unknown, hopeful. These instances too, will one day be the subject of fond reminiscence.

On the cover: “Nostalgia” by Ava Suarez, 12, Drawing

“Garmin Running Lanes” by Osvaldo Bandera, 12, Photography

What I’ve Been Through

Where I Will Go

“Colorful

by Chrissy Abobon, 11,

Digital Drawing

“Picture

by Eshelle Zeeshan, 9, Digital Drawing

“Pretty Boy” by Jammie Arroyo, 12, Digital Painting

“Sweet Summer Nights” by Faith Sammons, 12, Photography

Things I’ve Seen~Creations~9

“Jaguar” by Katelin Galardi, 12, Photography

“Red-Breasted Nuthatch” By Robert Remedi, 11, Photography

Things I’ve Seen~Creations~11

“The Ram” by Logan McLeod,11, Photography>

“Color” by Lisa Kuriakose, 11, Photography

Mariana Martinez, 12 Companies in June

Soap dispensers

Disinfectant wipes

Lotion

And shirts

They decide June is the time to add color

Apply a superficial rainbow to a superficial item

Smile and claim friendship

Try to speak like us and shadow us

Appeal to us with their thorny rose

Then july begins and they present their backs

Forget our names and preach our sins

But soon June will begin again and the colors will emerge

Their smiling faces will be shown once more

But I don’t want your smiles

I Don’t want your washed out colors

I don’t want your claim of friendship

I don’t want your rose unless it doesn’t have thorns

“The Bite of the Wolf” by Logan McLeod, 11, Photography

My Baby Netflix

Tyler Jaimes, 12

Netflix is the little pet you need to give attention to and love to keep tame. I acquired my new pet some years ago. It was so sweet and I played with it on special occasions. Even my family and friends would join me to give it the affection it craved. After a while, the pet would call out and snarl if it didn’t have its fix of love. Netflix would howl throughout the night or if it saw someone having a boring day. The more I played with it the more it grew in size. It would require more hours of the day to be satisfied. Rather than just one it required three or even four! I couldn’t do any other tasks when I was taking care of sweet lil’ Netflix. It would get aggravated if I even tried to use the bathroom. One day, Netflix gave birth to a litter of puppies. They all needed care and affection just like Netflix. I named them Hulu, Youtube, and Tik Tok Sooner or later, I found my days becoming shorter and shorter. Netflix was the center of it all. Netflix had all of my attention and love for the entire day. I didn’t have time to eat, sleep, play outside, or hangout with friends. The group slowly made their way to gaining the attention of everyone in the house. My mother cared for Hulu all day. My baby brother showered Youtube with love all day.

Tik tok the rascal found his way out and I heard he is shared by lots of kids at the school all day. Everything is going so dandy and sweet. I love my lil’ Netflix and he loves me.

Things I’ve Seen~Creations~16

Things I’ve Seen~Creations~17

“Destruction” by Logan Mullen, 10, Photography

“It All Makes Sense” by Allyah Trujillo, 12, Mixed Media

Smith, 12, Mixed Media

“The Woods” by

Trinity

Things I’ve Seen~Creations~20

by

“Life of a Clown”

Leslie Lopez, 12, Digital Design

“Now You’re Watching” by Lindsey Ibarra, 12, Painting

Things I’ve Seen~Creations~21

“Hallow” by Shatayla Gyaden , 12, Ceramics

Looking out for you

Marco Ruiz, 12

It always seems that you look right through me

I’m always around you, but do you even care?

It’s hard not being appreciated, especially lately I’m just looking out for you, I’ll always be there

When I become the most invisible to you

You love seeing through me in the winter

The snow in your eyes always looks new

But the pain inside me, string like a splinter

You close me up in the summer, always keeping me shut My back becomes scorched as my face is cooled down You sit inside, reading or watching TV, you just stay put Even during those morning rains, you wouldn’t care if I drowned

I’m always looking out for you, but you just stare

I’m always looking out for you, because no one else does

I’m always looking out for you, but you were never there I was always looking out for you, until you broke me

Until that accident, I always was

“Cold Shoulder” by Emilia Cobb, 12, Photography

The Moderate Guard Anonymous,

12

Art thou now so fast asleep

Slumped against thy post, Pushing back the helping hands

In thy slumbering pose?

Wherefore art thou standing still While the hands raise up their voices?

Why do they slide down that slippery slope

As thee coat it with more vices?

But wosrt of all is the vice of detachment

As yea stand in the way of the hands.

Thy indifference towards their vital pleas Impedes their work with silence.

And in this silence corrupt beings grow, Slowly invading the minds of all. Their sinister work ensnares all who can hear, But those who listen know their seeds to be empty.

And empty reasons are all they can convey, Yet still it enwraps the minds of so many. But yea could have saved all from this fate, If thy indifference was now changed to haste.

Yet the door thy back is fluch against Cannot be opened while thee sit and gaurd it. And so the hands must wait in vain

For a change in gaurd at dawn at last.

Things I’ve Seen~Creations~25

Things I’ve Seen~Creations~26

“Wine Growler”

by Isabella Solano, 12, Ceramics

Things I’ve Seen~Creations~27

“Wine Growler” by Kylee Wiltse, 12, Ceramics

“Blues” by Annette Prado, 11,Painting

“Assortment of Color” by Jammie Arroyo, 12, Digital Design

“Other Side” by Ty Perusky, 12, Photography

Things I’ve Seen~Creations~29

by Anonymus, 11, Photography

Searching for Light

Rachel Flores-Mangaran, 12

Sunset falls as night crept up on its back. The lightning bugs are starting their run on the track.

My eyes start to search for the light, But I can’t seem to see this late at night

Little light bulbs pop from left to right. Right away they disappear to a different spotlight.

Many lightning bugs my brother caught. Many crickets I caught with sadness I brought.

My legs are running to any light that show, But as time goes by, i couldn’t help but be slow

I want to give up

Give up I can’t

But the lightning bugs are at their finish line, they start to hide until next time

Daylight awakens on time, but I’ll catch a light I can call mine

Until next time

P e o p el v’I e Know n

“Passing” by Nina Braza, 12, Drawing

The Journeyman

Far out in the freeze he wanders

They say not all who wander are lost

But the Journeyman knows he is far from home

So deep within the frost

For this blizzard has blinded his eyes

And he knows that close by Death does wait

But nonetheless he pushes on

Through winter’s storm of hate

And with each step he takes he wonders

If he will even make it back

Back aching from snow-gear so heavy

Heavy odds against him do stack

But meanwhile out in the distance

Far away from his struggling form

The Journeyman’s sister had just come back home

Finally at a place safe and warm

She was home as of two nights ago

With her wife and young son once more

She’d received a letter from an address unknown

She had no idea what was in store

She knew her brother was a Journeyman

Off working far out in the snow

Ember Hagan, 12

Journeymen often vanished for months at a time

And no news was good news and so

Trembling hands opened the note

She could barely unfold the page

As she read the words scrawled in that jet black ink

She practically felt herself age

And she did weep, for her only brother

Could be six feet under the ground

For the rest of his crew was found frozen

And the brother nowhere to be found

She crumpled the cursed paper up in her hands

And threw it right into the bin

She would bring that Journeyman back, she swore

This would not be the end of him

And so once again she bid her goodbyes

Told her son she’d be home safe soon

Promised her wife that she would return

Headed out into the afternoon

Their futures were uncertain

But these siblings shared such close ties

That the Journeyman knew somehow deep inside

His sister would find him under frozen skies

“Waiting” by Lexi Spencer, 9, Photography

“Waiting” by Lexi Spencer, 9, Photography

When I was little... Me and my sister

Brianna Flaschner, 11

Me and my older sister would watch Saturday morning cartoons And we built forts on Friday nights when we had nothing better to do. She always reminded me of how annoying and small I was, And I guess it was true…

Because when I was little…

I used to be afraid of the dark.

I slept with a star-shaped nightlight in the middle of my room And when it stopped working I ran to my sister’s bed for refuge

However

Now that I am grown...

My sister and I have moved out, and we no longer live in the same home. Going forth to exist in our newly severed lives, And during that time she befriended a kind man and even became his wife

But the most surprising thing I learned from all this time apart

Is that this coming spring the older sister I once knew Will become a mother to a child of her own

Yes, that’s right…

I will have a nephew!

Living with My Siblings

There is a lot to miss about leaving my childhood fantasy behind to join the “real world”

I’m going to miss my old teachers who I’ll never see again, I’m going to miss the stuffed toys I gave away at that garage sale when I was 10, I’m even going to miss the crowded chaos of the school bus when I’m grown.

But with all of that, I believe the thing I will miss the most... Is spending every day with siblings while growing at home

From our petty arguments to unplanned movie marathons, Even the time we got yelled at together by mom….

Sure, we may have Christmas and Thanksgiving But it’s not the same I miss the bliss and the unplanned peacefulness Of living together with my siblings

“Ghost of Soiled Matresse’s”, Alyssa Cash, 12, Painting

Jasmine Morkeh, 11

People I’ve Known~Creations~38

The World Will Know

Minahil Nadeem, 11

Hesitation. That slight pause as they stare down at the sheet.

I know exactly whose name they are about to call. The name they’re about to struggle with. Some even skip the first name entirely, finding the last to be the lesser of two evils. Many still braved the first, though no one ever got it right. My face would flush as the class’ curious eyes swiveled to bore me down. I used to make the effort and quickly correct the pronunciation. Middle school was the last to see those days.

People easily made heavy assumptions, a perk of the western world. Smart, glasses, naive, tryhard, epitome of nerd. Definitely speaks English with an “Indian” accent. I’m not from India.

I don’t think Justice ever made keychains for me. I never got to buy 300 watermelons in math problems either. I wasn’t mentioned in any TV shows, movies, books.

I was unique.

And I grew to love it.

My younger sister laughs and yells my name as we race down the streets on bikes. My parents praise my name as I win more academic awards. My crush repeating my name as I stand there ecstatic. My friends compliment art drawn by me. My cousins tease the failed soccer plays attempted by me. My aunts dance along to new choreography made by me. My name has evolved, is evolving. It’s a meaningful whirlwind, looked upon differently from each aspect of my life. A combination of memories, experiences, expectations, accomplishments.

“A stream of sweet and cold water” is what it means, Minahil Nadeem is what the whole world will come to know.

People I’ve Known~Creations~40

Based on True Events

Fatima Naveed, 12

When we go on our adventures, it’s like the world has paused, and there is a softening in time: an open window for us to climb through and trot across forbidden fields, hidden paths with witchy fences and sun-kissed leaves with an effervescent glow. Here, the four seasons go backward, mosaic pieces string together like the dandelions we collect to coronate ourselves with.

And as we step out from below the tunnel, a walk that seemingly lasts forever, we hear the time we left behind catching up to us; the ripple smoothing out until we dip our toes in the timeless again.

“Elephant” by Omar Tenorio, 11, Photography

“Arya” by Vanessa Avila, 12, Drawing

“Cherry Bomb” by Grace Liu, 12, Painting

The Solitary Companion

Kyla Lau, 10

“The desert isn’t so bad,” the girl exclaimed. “There’s cool wildlife and interesting… sand.” “Sand?” the figure replied. “It is incredibly interesting,” she repeated, her sarcasm more than evident.

“There’s no need to be here.” the figure stated. That much the girl knew, but she stayed silent. Discontented, the wind retaliated, swirling the sand through the night air. The girl only squinted, trying to make shapes of the nothingness until her eyes were blinded by them.

Dredging their feet along, the partners eventually climbed to the top of a dune and hid under the sky. There was a chill, and the stark difference between the day and night was startling. If the girl was inexperienced, she might’ve thought they were different worlds. And perhaps that was the case, though she wouldn’t admit it.

In the starlight, she could now only make out silhouettes: two squares with a type of screening, a rectangle filled by other rectangles, small cylinders on a figure that lay at an odd angle.

“Standing at the edge of the universe,” the girl sighed. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she was going with someone, and that had been enough convincing for her. She watched the figure staring into the night, at the stars twinkling in rhythm.

“It’s alright,” the figure said, somehow aware of the girl’s blindness. “The stars make for good company.”

“Fantastic conversationalist you must be.” It wasn’t an attempt at humor but rather a novel attempt to fill the accustomed silence. The figure was strange, although the girl didn’t seem to mind. Their shadows questioned whether the girl was naive or just as strange as the figure.

‘Company?’ the girl questioned. Her heart began to slow. She wanted to say more, wanted to stay longer. But there was no time. She glanced at the figure, her eyes searching for answers, hoping to see something more than outlines in the dark. But when she turned, the sand had dissipated, the wind no longer howled, and it was quiet. The girl only sighed and turned her head. In the square window of her room, light gleamed through the screening, and the girl’s reflection faded and reappeared, mirroring the twinkling stars.

by Anthony Cervantes, 11, Drawing

What I ’ve Been Th r o u gh

“Hesitance” by Czarlize Jereos, 10, Photography

Identity Crisis

Marco Ruiz, 12

The void was pitch black

He flicked on the lightswitch

Masks on top masks in stacks

“I can’t decide on one, how and which?”

The floor is covered in faces, too many to count

The boy grew a sharp fear in his head

“I’ll never find one, with this amount, By the time I do, as a doornail I’ll be dead.”

The boy’s face starts chipping off, like a broken vase

The boy’s face disappeared into the sea of faces

“Where’d they go? Where’s my face?”

The boy’s face was gone, leaving no traces

The boy looked at himself , and wondered why

“I don’t recognize myself, not at all.

Can someone tell me: Who am I?”

“Addiction to Social Media”

by Kate Nisnian, 12, Drawing

The Impossible Choice

Gently though between her bones

The heart begins to flutter.

Beating gently against its cage

It still cannot get better. It hopes for more for it to beat, Though knowing it is scared.

Not sure if it should still escape

From between these bones now flared.

Scared to move so flutter it must, Wondering where to go. Its supply is now forefer gone, Yet between these walls it must flow.

As the last dregs leave this shattered place, It wonders where it went so wrong. And as it beats its last goodbye, It sings one last lonely song.

Memories Grace Fajardo, 9

We used to be close

Like a tree that clings Its roots to the dirt.

Grew stronger each time that happened.

I guess I was wrong.

But one day one of us Left. There are times you Can tell you’re drifting apart And times when it felt like It came out of nowhere.

In the end, whichever one

Of those happens

The result will stay the same. Our memories are now memories We can’t recreate.

From our normal hangouts, To late-night phone calls, Our little adventures, Our silence.

Although we were silent

Doing our own things we were Still together.

It felt like our connection

The separation killed me. I still cling to you.

Wishing that you’re here And we could hang out again. Although you don’t want To do the same.

I want to be happy That at least those memories Happened.

But why did you come

To my life when you never Planned to stay in it?

Was there a time

You wanted to stay with me?

Should’ve left

When our connection

Felt like it grew.

Should’ve left before We got close.

Should’ve left before I could feel this way.

Before I would be Crying with

These thoughts in My head.

Before I could no longer get out of bed. Before this pain in my Chest that feels like Stab wounds, Or timebombs.

Before I could no longer Take showers and skip For days or weeks.

Did you see a future with me?

If you didn’t then

Why did you stay?

You should’ve left

Before it happened.

Before I have no more Motivation to eat

And empty my stomach

So the pain will go away.

But there are times I do eat.

I eat and eat to overflow

And fill in the emptiness

In my stomach.

To clean the place

And do something about it.

To go outside

And feel the fresh air

Became hard to do. Having no more Motivation to do

The things I loved To do.

You should’ve left

Before all of it, So I didn’t have To go through it.

I should’ve realized

That just because

The roots of the tree

Clung to the dirt

Doesn’t mean it couldn’t Pull away.

“Mask” by Chase Umansky, 12, Photography

“Two Tigers” by Hiba Naqvi, 12, Digital Drawing

12 Rope

Carol Manilay,

How can someone love me, when I hate me

When I look in the mirror, all I do is weep

I cry and cry and close my eyes to not see

I just wanI just want this to be over, so I can leap

I’ve been dreaming and dreaming for my days to be gone

I’m still here wondering why I hide

I run and run, until it’s none

Laying here again, feeling like I’m tied

I’m trapped in a fence

I just want to leave

But my family and friends

Won’t set me free

The future I don’t seek

Feeling empty every day

I can’t sudden speak

Hoping my body is gray

I stand here looking through me

Seeing no future and hope

She’s slowly floating in the sea

With the untied rope

“Reminders of a Past Life” by Nooreen Ahmed, 12, Photography

The antagonizing act of aging

GeriAnn Kelly, 11

There is something so painful about the first time you realize time has taken you without your knowledge, and there are now things I have come to associate with it….

The feeling of envy that floods over me when I see a young child where I once was… And the selfishness I possess to push my hopes and regrets onto their life, warning them to do better than me in places in which I failed. All in hopes they won’t make the same mistakes that keep me up at night wishing I did better.

I’m aware it’s not fair of me, they too should be allowed to make their own mistakes to learn and grow in ways I never could.

But to those who still have time left I beg…

Cherish. Every. Moment. Enjoy the privileges of your youth.

family, it may not feel like it now, but one day you will tear up to the idea that you once did.

Appreciate the little things…

Like every time you are told “you have a bright future ahead of you”, Because the last time you are told that will be the day you find yourself in that godforsaken future. And you may even come to realize that the “brightness” was a mere concept in which you will spend the rest of your adult life chasing… thought cursed to never truly find what you were hoping for.

Find peace in annoyances…

Know that it is an advantage to have adults telling you what to do, for one day they shall die and you will be left alone. And it will take telling a younger person, (younger than you), to realize you have turned into what they consider an adult.

So enjoy your time little one...and believe me when I say

It will end sooner than you think.

It is a gift to live in the same home as your birth

I am lost

Lost without light

Light drowned by dark

Dark with no end

End without hope

Hopeless and helpless

Helplessly alone

Alone and forgotten

Forgotten in seconds

Seconds ran down

Down to nothing

Nothing remaining

I was lost

Lost but now light

Light glowing bright

Peace at what cost

What I’ve Been Through~Creations~56

by Lauren Rhodes, 12, Photography

“A Portrait of A Woman on Fire” by Gavin Lipinski, 12, Photogaphy

I become Virgin Mary

Mariana Martinez, 12

I was given baby Jesus when I was 12 years old

Told to cradle him with great care and affection

When I grasped him I saw beauty beyond compare

I hugged him close and vowed to never let him go

I smiled glad that someone my age would love him so much

Then they took out a nail

And pricked my baby at the top of his head

Handed the baby back to me

I wanted to become as beautiful as baby Jesus

Acquire half of his glow

So when I was perceived

I could shine and bring hope resembling his

I was 13 and I lifted him to the sky

Let him come with me to every corner of the world

Those who saw him smiled to me and said

He is truly beautiful beyond compare

I beamed right back and responded

I've known that since I was just 12 years old

I continued to carry him throughout my life

Smiled when he smiled laughed when he laughed

His presence consumed my life

And gave it every joy in the world

I would show the world this beautiful boy

Because they deserved every joy too

But at 14 someone took him

They looked at the baby boy with so much love

Still holding the loving smile

I looked down at baby Jesus

Wondering why a lovely soul would prick my joy

Tried too smile and let it slide

After all it was just one small prick

But the second a small trickle of blood trailed his head

Vultures of loving faces dived for him

All with nails on their hands

They mutilated my baby

Destroyed every limb and every gear

Spit on his hands and stomped out his face

Drenched me in his blood

And left little pieces for me to pick up

All while still wearing those loving smiles

Now I'm 17 years old and my baby jesus is a stain on the floor

Nothing was left of him except pools of blood

I was given baby Jesus when I was 12 years old

Told to cradle him with great care and affection

When I grasped him I saw beauty beyond compare

I hugged him close and vowed to never let him go

I smiled glad that someone my age would love him

so much

Then they took out a nail

And pricked my baby at the top of his head

Handed the baby back to me

Still holding the loving smile

I wanted to become as beautiful as baby Jesus

Acquire half of his glow

So when I was perceived

I could shine and bring hope resembling his

I was 13 and I lifted him to the sky

Let him come with me to every corner of the world

Those who saw him smiled to me and said

He is truly beautiful beyond compare

I beamed right back and responded

I've known that since I was just 12 years old

I continued to carry him throughout my life

Smiled when he smiled laughed when he laughed

His presence consumed my life

And gave it every joy in the world

I would show the world this beautiful boy

Because they deserved every joy too

But at 14 someone took him

They looked at the baby boy with so much love

What I’ve Been Through~Creations~60

I looked down at baby Jesus

Wondering why a lovely soul would prick my joy

Tried too smile and let it slide

After all it was just one small prick

But the second a small trickle of blood trailed his head

Vultures of loving faces dived for him

All with nails on their hands

They mutilated my baby

Destroyed every limb and every gear

Spit on his hands and stomped out his face

Drenched me in his blood

And left little pieces for me to pick up

All while still wearing those loving smiles

Now I'm 17 years old and my baby jesus is a stain on the floor

Nothing was left of him except pools of blood

I looked at his pieces and apologized

Dropped to my knees with anguish

I'm sorry I could not take better care of yOu

Then in front of me stood a human

Too bright for my eyes to conceive

Took baby jesus and laid him to rest

They smiled and stooped down to meet me

They declared “I may have been mutilated but I am not dead”

They then bestowed upon me

Baby jesus

Fully formed with beauty beyond compare

Told to cradle him with great care and affection

And to let everyone see his indestructible beauty

I hugged him close and vowed to never let him go

“Unititled“ Avery Ullrich, 12, Painting

What They Taught

Michela Schenk, 11

A rainbow fish, a giving tree, a world of wild things.

These books of past

Like clay they shaped My personality.

The fish so bright Was dimmed by life, Their colors stole by friends

When scales of mine, friends did findThey took from me

In name of love

What I’ve Been Through~Creations~62

“Waiting For Your Company” by Jodi Mendoza, 11, Drawing

And like the fish, I grew to know

If friends I desire, My light must go dimmer. A giving tree, Was read to me. She gave her all

In hopes the boy might fall

Her branches, her fruit, her shade, her leaves, She might sound nice to thee

Yet, by the end

I wonder

Did she have to bend?

Was his thanks pretend?

For not once did he Lay down his all

And so I learned To make him fall I must give myself

Holding nothing back And pray to god he might love me back.

I need to be.

These emotions in me

Where The Wild Things are is where

Are a monster

No one can see. For like MaxI too get lonely and mad.

But they do not

Want the roaring Nor the gnashing

Of terrible teeth. No, The world prefers The big emotions to stay An ocean away.

Shove the monster down

No time for wild now

You have big girl things to do

So you must calm down.

A poem written by Michela Schenk, inspired by the childhood books that impacted who she became. Books referenced: Rainbow Fish by Marcus Pfister, The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein, Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak.

Door

Carol Manilay, 12

There was a little girl

Who waited for her father

She stood behind the front door

Waiting, yet he never bothered

She cried and cried

But suddenly stopped

Because she realized

The door will never knock

She was on her bed

Watching a show of a family with a father

Then she looked outside her window

Of her father with another daughter

She cried and cried once again

Wondering why she’s not enough

But then she realized

That the door was always locked

She left the door open for years and years

Waiting till she’s 17

Standing behind the front door

Waiting, but holding a guillotine

What I’ve Been Through~Creations~64

“Vented” by Cinder Roeder, 11, Photography

Wh e r e I w il g o

Where I Will Go~Creations~66

12, Mixed Media

by Amy Kostadinov,

“Eye of the Beholder”

“Lost In Thought” by Abeni Garner, 12, Painting

Following the Tide

by Sydney Wightman

She sat, facing the shore searching searching, not sure what for but knowing it had a purpose. It’s purpose was with the deep blue tide as the tide seemed to whisper her name in the breeze.

The breeze whisked, moving the dark smog past the lighthouse. The lighthouse was withered and sorrowful while sorrowful, it slowed the deep blue tide from crashing on the sand

The sand was cool as her feet sank in, watching the tide.

The tide had a deep hidden meaning that rolled past her eyes her eyes watching and concluding this deep dark meaning the meaning seeming to be on the tip of her sand buried toes as her toes touched the rolling in tide

The tides secret meaning lay deep within its blue waves

The waves presented not an object, but a meaning

The meaning connecting her to safety and comfort

This comfort became known to her as the tide crept along past the shore

On the shore she settled, knowing she was home.

Where I Will Go~Creations~70

“City Night ” by Arriana Jereos, 12, Painting

“Lady in Red ” by Addi Lindo, 12, Drawing

Where I Will Go~Creations~71

Where I Will Go~Creations~72

“Untitled” by Alexis Tatum, 12, Photography

“Street In Italy” by Robert Remedi, 11, Photography

“The Road Less Travelled” by Kashmala Yousafzai, 12, Painting

Letting

Fatima Naveed, 12

I feel like this last page should be something memorable. not whatever this is.

Poetry is bleeding

This is red ink.

I am no longer an artist

This is the blood from the death of a poet

The whetstone does nothing more than dull its weapons, a soft-edged blade. Cough collects in throat; I know I’m not dead yet. Comb through the surface and rub rough wrinkles flat in ravenous ravines. I am not dead yet. blood unknown. This breath insists on not letting ordinary live alone.

“Out of reach ” by Jasmine Morkeh, 11, Mixed Media

Reminiscence

Kahlia Williams, 11

Those were the days, When worry was invisible

And stress was concealed.

Those were the days,

When the pungent scent of crayons brought instant gratification

And our parents lit up when our masterpiece was revealed.

Those were the days,

When growing up was a necessity

And freedom we thought we needed seemed so far.

Those were the days,

When life was golden

And no one, not even me, could dim my shining star.

These are the days,

When deadlines become our enemy

And rest our new best friend.

These are the days,

When the scent of crayons are faint

And we wonder if stress will ever come to an end.

These are the days,

When our emotions gain control

And our actions determine our fate.

These are the days,

When I’d give anything to live in my nostalgia

And re-experience a life I’ll never again be able to create.

Where I Will Go~Creations~76

“Did It Make It?” by Carol Manilay, 12, Photography

“Gaea”

by Lauren Rhodes, 12, Painting

Unfound Fatima

Naveed, 12

I was still here, but already getting that feeling of nostalgia when returning to a childhood home years after leaving it.

Nobody put up a poster for them— The Days— when they slid into each other, into another world, deeper down a chasm of dates crossed off. My feet dangle over the edge, precariously, and you can see how it makes sense. That chasing is an option leading nowhere but down, forgetting means faulty footing feeling for ground.

In the cave beneath, my toes nudge the hollow air a little too hard, a bit too long.

The days are Gone. Are the days gone?

Nostalgia~Creations~78

Thank you to our generous supporters

Benefactor $100+

Aliyah Ohlsen

Bahia Al-Salihi

Carrie Suarez

Friends $20-$40

Bryan & Peggy Becker

Suzanne Conforti

The Education Life Skills Program

Naveed Ismail

John Maurer

Fatima Naveed

Langevin O. Piol

Sue Slovik

Joseph Suarez

Angela Wiermanski

Michelle Williams

Kate Knutson

Carol Manilay-Robles

Priyal Patel

William Oddo

Sue Walker

patron $50-$75

Deb D’Onofrio

Jennifer Drinka

The Groth Family

Kendra Kett / The Blue Moon Gallery

Ginny Krueger

Cherry Manilay

Ruel Manilay

Eden Peralta

Karen Suarez Flint

Nostalgia~Creations~79

The Creations Staff would like to thank, in no particular order, The School board, Mr. Oddo, Mr. Stocker, Logan McLeod, Mrs. MsCulley, Mrs. Keslinke, Mrs. Wiermanski, Mrs. Connor, Mr. Georgatsos and the Scratch Paper staff for all their help this year.

Creations, Volume 44, was produced by the Creations Staff at Warren Township High School in Gurnee, Illinois and printing at American Lithograph, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Created on Adobe InDesign and Adobe Photoshop CC. Please send any questions to kknutson@wths.net.

Staff

Fonts include: Times New Roman, Bodani MT Italics, Corbel Light, and Perpetua Title MT Light

Submissions by Warren Students are shared via Google Drive through www.

d121.org with name, ID, and title of work included and blind-judged by the Creations Staff.

Lena Groth

Carol Manilay

Jasmine Morkeh

Fatima Naveed

Aliyah Ohlsen

Priyal Patel

Raphaella Ranario

Ava Suarez

Sponsor: Ms. Knutson