2004 - Mississippi School for Mathematics and Science

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LeftLeft BehindSilver Gelatin PrintBrandon ThorntonJamie AusbornBehindHonorable Mention, Essay CompetitionMy Black andWhite MediumAfter a long, stressful day filled with testsand homework, I make a short hike acrosscampus. When I reach the old building, I tugon the heavy door and walk inside. Climbingthe stairs to the second floor, my footstepsecho through the building, disrupting thesilence. As my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, Imake my way down the hall, lined with smallrooms on both sides. The creaking of my footstepsceases when I reach the last door on theleft. I turn the handle and flip the light switch.Staring at the blank wall in front of me, Isit on the bench erect. A million thoughts arerushing through my head: worries, fears, hopes,and dreams. Thump, thump, my heart pulsateswithin my chest as the pressure builds insideme.Exhaling, I slowly release the air from mymouth and then gently lower my fingertipsonto the cool, slick keys. My emotions floodthrough my veins and focus themselves in thetips of my sweaty fingers. With intense concentration,I begin translating my emotions withmy fingertips, releasing a surge of energy. Thesweet melody pours out from within my soul,filling the room, as my hands glide first slowly,then rapidly over my black and white medium.Twelve years of practice have helped me to perfectthis tune. My ability is for myself alone. Ido not intend to please anyone but myself withmy song, for only I know the true meaningbehind each note. My mood changes, the pressureof my fingers increasing with the crescendosof the melody. Each staccato and accentreveal another thought. Each chord exposes apart of me, my undisclosed feelings. My expressionis original and, if not expressed, will belost. No song is like another because of thehidden emotions behind it. Without my art,my feelings and emotions would remainentrapped within my being, piling and addingmore pressure to my already crammed life.Staring at the blank wall in front of me, myfingers linger on the last note of my song. Mytight muscles relax, and my heartbeat slows. Aweight is lifted from my chest. My soul isrefreshed; my mind calmed. I no longer feeloverwhelmed with the anxieties and demandsof life. I pull the cover down over the keys,push back the bench, and stand. Walkingtowards the door, I flip off the light switch, andthe room becomes flooded with darkness. Myshadow stretches on the floor in front of me,formed by the faint light in the hallway. I turnaround and take one last look before leaving,barely able to make out the shapes and formsin the room. Patiently waiting for my return,the piano will remain dormant, enclosed withinit the music of my soul.S V0 6
Last NightAs You LaySleepingLast night as you lay sleepingI looked upon your face,And startled by such beauty,My heart picked up its pace.Behind those tender lashesI think I saw your soul;I saw each of your tomorrows;I saw your dreams unfold.Though no mystic light surrounded you,I felt God smile down from aboveOn this most innocent babeThis precious child of Love.Then with readjusted focus,I noted the rising of your chestSending waves of comfort through my bodyWith each reassuring breath.Then looking again upon your faceI couldn’t help but touchThe one I’d grown so close to,The one I loved so much.Trailing my fingers through your hair,Feeling warmth I never knew,Inside my heart I made a vowTo never let anyone hurt you.Then before I left the room,A simple farewell I bade;I asked the Lord to keep youAnd on your brow, a kiss I laid.Not just any kiss,But a promise etched in stoneThat I will always be hereAnd you will never be alone.Jessica JenningsJordanBrittany HollisBlack fingernails run across my hair,Comforting me in my darkest hour.I look up to see shining eyes,Short cropped velvety brown hair,Gentle streaks of light running through herhairAs the sun’s rays paint her with goldenrod rays,A cross necklace draped from her neck,A heart of gold shines in her gentle glance,Shimmering with the glow of kindnessThat lights up a room.As the world around her weeps,She is always there,The last thread to hold togetherTheir world as it falls apart, piece by piece.Her air of both sadness and warmth,Darkness and light,Mixes with her pale blue veins.Her white scars that run over withPain and despair deep withinAre hidden by her vibrant laughterAnd a smile that makes everything all right,As she shields herself by the constant books inHer hands: magic, vampires, philosophy—all her refuge from this worlduntil she returns to earth to mendthe broken among us again,reaching out to them from the musty graystone dungeonsof time with her dark fingernails.S V0 7
Page 1 and 2: *I. :'adi *t aF e*e
Page 3 and 4: Table of ContentsEssaysJamie Ausbor
Page 5 and 6: Virgosby Ryan ScottHonorable Mentio
Page 7: “I want to be enough to make you
Page 11 and 12: A Hard PathKendrell WellsAt a very
Page 13 and 14: The Past LivesPhotographHonorable M
Page 15 and 16: “maybe he didn’t get into the c
Page 17 and 18: BiorhythmicRepetitionIf I could see
Page 19 and 20: we’d be fine. The donut shop was
Page 21 and 22: Many teenagers with straight A’s
Page 23 and 24: DementedThoughtsAhhh!My mind scream
Page 25 and 26: RollingField #2AcrylicAndy GuanMela
Page 27 and 28: The only problem was that one girl
Page 29: eavers, and our obedience. He almos
Page 32 and 33: could handle. Dad wasn’t here to
Page 34 and 35: small personal catalog and began sc
Page 36 and 37: Laura gave her mom the eye as shepu
Page 38 and 39: RandomThoughtsof LifeWhen I grow up
Page 40 and 41: StainedGlassA star, its glory falli
Page 42 and 43: HallowedTreesAcrylic/ChalkJeremy Cr
Page 44 and 45: He looked up at me, all injured inn
Page 46 and 47: Who Ate the LastMe?PhotographHonora
Page 48 and 49: My Little TigerTom FengClutching a
Page 50 and 51: Contributors’ NotesJamie Ausborn
Page 52: Southern Voices is a magazine of cr

2004 - Mississippi School for Mathematics and Science

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