Revista Melissa.cdr

Write 

From 

Lincoln 

The Lincoln Middle School Literary Magazine

Table of Contents 

Volume 1, Issue 2 

Buenos Aires, Argentina 

A u tho thors 

rs 

Alis Anasal 

Amory Brandon 

Florencia Fustinoni 

Tamsin Gordon 

Austin Hays 

Tori Hermosillo 

Rebecca Hewitt Lovera 

Hannah Kielmanowicz 

Mary McClain 

Aleksander Mihok 

Elena Miles 

Matthew Raporte 

Christian Reese 

Paul Scott 

Kina Sharani 

Nashira Sharani 

Ro Tapia 

Eric Van Volkinburg 

Emily Williams 

21 

14, 19-20, 

46-48 

16, 22, 32 

44-45 

30-31 

7 

8, 49-50 

42-43 

6, 23-24 

11, 37 

25-28 

51-52 

10, 17-18 

33-34 

12-13, 

41, 59 

9, 15, 

35-36 

38-40 

53-54 

29, 55-58 

In s 

ide ide 

= Poetry 

= Memoirs 

= Short Stories 

= Novel Excerpts 

E d itor`s itor`s No Note 

te 

This year, seventeen seventh and eighth grade students 

participated in Lincoln's advanced creative writing classes. 

The writers dove in head first with memoirs, historical 

fiction, fantasy, poetry, and short stories. Topics ranged 

from basketball and Buenos Aires to boarding school and 

broken hearts. Writing is a craft that requires both talent 

and acquired skills. Our writers immersed themselves in 

their projects creating rough drafts, peer editing, 

conferencing with teachers, finding their personal voice and 

tackling the difficult task of rewriting. The class gained 

such momentum that we added another seventh grade 

section second semester taught by Ms. Baines. 

Throughout this year, we have shared our writing with each 

other. Now, we would like to share it with you. 

Melissa Daniels 

1

Poetry 

Mary McClain 

Tsunami 

Waves of destruction took over the sea 

Alerted glances from you to me 

No one can stop it, 

It's already come 

The dreadful deed is about to be done 

Screaming and crying all around 

Up to the hills is where people bound 

Trying to run with fear on their face 

Looking around to see such disgrace 

Water splashes everywhere 

Killing, destroying, it isn't fair 

Nations awake, about to be shunned, 

It doesn't matter; the dreadful deed has 

already been done. 

Waiting 

Counting off minutes 

Counting off days 

Wondering, pondering 

Will I see you again? 

Raindrop 

It 

Drips 

Dropping 

Further Downward 

Until Finally It Is Close 

You Are Too Late To Stop It 

You Run To Try and Reach It 

To Make It Hit Your Tongue 

But You Are Out Of Time 

It Hits The Ground 

SPLAT 

6

Poetry 

Tori Hermosillo 

Miss 

I hear you, 

Can't see you, 

I miss you, 

Wishin' you were here, 

To guide me through life, 

Like you did once before. 

Irreplaceable 

The feeling, 

Of you 

Lingering 

In my mind 

Hurting, 

And burning 

Inside. 

Birthday 

On my Birthday 

The impatient face 

The present with lace. 

On my Birthday. 

My Mind 

In my mind I lie, 

Hoping things will be alright, 

But I know better. 

Disappointment 

Many expectations 

Get you down 

The worst of all 

Are the ones from… 

The people that you 

Love 

Hate 

But just can't please. 

Painful 

It was so painful to hear you say, 

That you like her that way. 

To lie in your bed 

Thinking of her 

And not of me. 

Mess Up 

You're making mom and dad upset, 

You're making your sisters cry, 

When you say you will succeed, 

We believed you'd get through college. 

I don't get how you do it, 

How could you mess up, 

Quite so bad? 

7

Poetry 

Rebecca Hewitt 

Blind Mirror 

There's a mirror, 

hanging on my wall. 

I see into it everyday, 

but everyday I see nothing. 

As I look out into the distance, 

as people walk down the hall beside me 

everyday. 

But everyday they see nothing. 

People come and go everyday, 

some wish to stay, 

and gaze into my heart 

but everyday, 

they see nothing. 

Raindrops 

Raindrops fall on my window, 

but it is sunny outside. 

My face feels wet, 

but the window is shut 

and it is sunny outside. 

I can't see clearly, 

but my eyes are wide open, 

the window is shut 

and it is sunny outside. 

I was waiting for a letter 

Which I've just received 

But instead of good news 

Its words clouded my mind and made it rain 

But it is sunny outside. 

8

Poetry 


The Phone Directory 

I see her name 

I learn her number 

I pick up the phone 

But then, encumber 

A Single Tear Drop 

Running, racing down the hill 

Being shoved out of my home 

Rushing, chasing my other friends 

That left before I said “Goodbye” 

Faster, falling off the cliff 

Through the air without sniff 

Children 

I say, “Hello” 

They just glare 

And say, “Bye” 

I say, “Need help?” 

Rolling their eyes, 

They say, “I'm not dumb!” 

And pick up their bag 

I say, “Don't use that tone” 

And point a finger 

They say, “You started it” 

And storm off to their room 

I say, “I love you” 

They don't even hear 

Unspoken Words 

His eyes told me that he'd keep me safe 

His kiss told me that he wouldn't let go 

His hand in mine told me he was The One 

My Favorite Time of Day 

Nothing matters 

When I close my eyes. 

Take a deep breath, 

Let out a great sigh. 

All my troubles 

will fly away, 

Waiting for me 

the very next day. 

There's nothing to it, 

Just think no more, 

Push the thoughts out, 

Lock the door. 

No more ideas 

Just jumping about; 

My brain shuts down 

The lights go out. 

Shattered 

Upside down, and down side up, 

The vase is falling to the ground. 

Upside down, and down side up, 

The vase that cost a hundred pounds. 

Falling, falling, through the air; 

That innocent vase, it wasn't fair. 

Shattered, it's beautiful shell now broken, 

To tiny pieces that gave no hoping. 

The being of the vase now gone, 

Clear as day, it was time to move on. 

9

Poetry 

Chris Reese 

A Dreamer 

Out of the world, 

Out there, very far. 

That's where a dreamer goes, 

That's where they star. 

Many have gone there, 

Many have not. 

Out in a dreamer world, 

Escaping, from where they are. 

The River 

There's a wide, wide river, 

A' flowin' through here. 

There's a wide, wide river, 

A' bringin' fresh air. 

It twists, 

Then turns, 

Then makes the shape of a U. 

There's a person on that river, 

And I don't know who. 

He whistles and waves, 

And invites me on board. 

But the trees whisper to me, 

“That's temptation, 

An' followin' him is his hoard.” 

The great fishes trailed behind him, 

And I realize with terror, 

Those fish would have eaten me, 

Just for jumping in and making an error. 

10

Poetry 

Aleksandar Mihok 

Peter Pan 

Today I woke up. 

Though wishing I hadn't. 

But rather I die. 

Boy that would be pleasant. 

And even though, 

I cry and I stutter, 

The night has just come, 

I'll die in a gutter. 

They kick and they laugh, 

With faces of pleasure, 

As I scream and I yell, 

There's no greater measure. 

My body is in knots, 

I'm torn to the center, 

So quoting the words of Peter Pan, 

To die would be a great adventure. 

HeR 

,nice love 

and is you, I 

I heart the way 

am A way the 

too, I be, 

to am can 

be me. answers 

your if 

self, answer 

or the 

to is 

be love 

you 

! 

I need her like deserts need rain, 

I crave her like a wrestler craves pain, 

I want her like a lunatic wants a knife, 

I miss her like a husband misses his wife. 

His Mind 

Here I sit, 

In this broken chair, 

Inside this broken house, 

That I once called home. 

The walls are worn, 

Along with my heart, 

That was torn by a girl, 

If only over I could start. 

But it got me nowhere, 

As you see me here, 

My body is limp, 

Down my cheek is a tear. 

Maybe its my fault, 

That my life is destroyed, 

No car, no money, 

I'm not employed. 

Nobody cares how I am, 

Or what I've been doing, 

But rather they not, 

It needs some undoing. 

And by that, 

I mean my life, 

How it's soon to end, 

With this rusty old knife. 

But maybe I won't. 

I’ll stop in time, 

For my life to keep going, 

And for her to be mine. 

11

Poetry 

Kina Sharani 

Forgotten 

The world's an arm length away, 

I wish I could just reach out and grab it, 

But I can't. 

Besides, I'm only human. 

My friends, my family, 

The world, 

Goes on without me, 

Taunting me, 

The forgotten one. 

Drowning 

The world sees clear blue skies, 

But in my heart it's raining. 

The world sees dry paved roads, 

But through my eyes it's flooding. 

I began to drown, 

When you walked out my door. 

Have you ever… 


Walked a path that leads no where? 


Seen, when there's nothing there? 


Heard voices, when you're alone? 


Felt, without a heart? 

Left, 

Hurt, 

Broken. 

Just Waiting 

Something's trying to hurt me, 

It's aiming at my heart. 

It's waiting in the dark, 

Just waiting to come out. 

Dust 

Everything I touch 

Turns to dust. 

The flowers all around me 

Wither. 

The sun goes down 

In my presence. 

Darkness, always. 

People always leave, 

Alone, always. 

Cast Away 

The cast away hides, 

Under the blanket, which is the night. 

The cast away runs, 

From all the light, shining bright. 

The cast away lives, 

In fear of the day. 

The cast away stays alone, 

Isolated. 

The cast away, 

Is me. 

Darkness 

I gaze into the darkness, 

Wondering what lurks in the unknown. 

I stay away, 

For I fear, 

That it'll swallow me whole. 

12

Poetry 

Kina Sharani 

Ode to Television 

You really are a magic box, 

You're so hypnotizing. 

When I grab the remote, 

And press the on button, 

The little red light flashes. 

Then the screen comes to life, 

And the sweet sounds flow. 

When you are off, 

You call to me, 

It's just so mesmerizing. 

You are just one, 

As a whole. 

But 1,000 things at the same time. 

Every channel, 

Every show, 

Are each new chapters of your life. 

Everyday of my life, 

Is just like yours. 

Everyday you wake up, 

And every night you sleep, 

Just like one of us. 

Yet, so different. 

So still, 

So controlled. 

You do the same thing everyday, 

However, nothing that's similar. 

Flipping the same pages everyday, 

Yet, each with different words. 

You dread the time of day, 

When, your little red light fades; 

Just until the next day. 

And wonder everyday, 

When your little red light, 

Will fade, for good. 

But, since you see it coming, 

You cherish everyday. 

And hold on to the thread, 

That's keeping you turned on. 

And until that day comes, 

You'll be waiting everyday, 

Just sitting there, 

Waiting, 

For that one person, 

Who will, 

Pick up the remote, 

And press the button, 

So the little red light flashes 

Memories 

Memories, of laughter, smiling, 

Of happy children playing, 

Rewind in my head. 

But that's it. 

Only memories. 

That's all that's left. 

Nothing is left. 

Roots 

I mingle with the dirt, 

I am shoes, of a sort. 

I walk, 

But what wears me, 

Never moves. 

It grows, 

'Til it touches the heavens, 

While I grow, 

I get closer to Satan. 

I am shoes, 

That can never come off, 

The thread of life, 

That keeps it growing, 

For ever, 

'Til it reaches the heavens, 

And comes its time to pass. 

13

Poetry 

Amory Brandon 

Billabong Odyssey 

Dedicated to Skindog 

It's coming. 

Approaching fast. 

Always growing. 

Will it last? 

It looms high. 

I paddle hard. 

On feet I fly, 

My board and I. 

The wave peaks, 

And back I glanced. 

I feel weak, 

It has advanced. 

The board trembles, 

I quake with fear. 

The wave crumbles, 

The end is near. 

And so the wave breaks. 

And lets out a roar. 

My whole body shakes, 

And I know no more. 

And later I see, 

Why I felt small, 

The wave behind me, 

Was eighty feet tall. 

Seasons 

A snowflake drifts down, 

In a whispering whirlwind 

Beyond the eerie light. 

A spring bud opens, 

A blossoming joy of earth, 

And a gift to all. 

The sun is blazing 

A scorching hot fireball 

In the burning summer sky. 

But the last of the leaves 

Has fallen, and flutters down, 

Blowing in the cool breeze. 

For a new year has come, 

And as do the seasons, 

For they shall never stop. 

14

Poetry 


Unseen 

You know I'm speaking 

You see my face 

You hear my voice 

But not my words 

My lips are moving 

My arms are flailing 

My voice is rising 

But I am mute 

You think you're right 

You don't give me a chance 

You insist I'm wrong 

But that's not the case 

I Am 

I am dull as a toad, 

Shy as a hare. 

I am bleak like a cow, 

And often glare. 

I blend in the crowd 

As if I'm not there. 

I am beige like a wall, 

Sad like a frown. 

I am high as a bird, 

Down 

On 

The 

Ground. 

I am loud as trumpet, 

Though I don't make a sound. 

What am I? 

Answer: 

Your Heart's True Desire 

I watched you pour out your heart, 

Unveil your soul, 

Unleash the burning feeling inside. 

Wild like a fire, 

Free like a bird, 

All your emotions burst out of your mouth. 

You screamed and you yelled, 

You cried and you laughed. 

Every last drop of your energy gone. 

Slowly the words come out with a pause. 

Those three special words we long to hear. 

Syllable by syllable, each one defined. 

They came out together, all in a line. 

I 

Love 

... 

Her. 

It's said. It's done. It's finally out. 

The one who was there for him, left behind 

As he runs in the arms of his only one. 

15

Poetry 


Just a Kiss 

Tasty chocolate, an hour ago, 

Turned to ashes, 

Compared to this. 

Salty popcorn, fifty minutes ago, 

Turned to goo, 


Sweet soda, forty minutes ago, 

Turned to dust, 


Delicious potatoes, thirty minutes ago, 

Turned to wood, 


Sublime turkey, twenty minutes ago, 

Turned to paper, 


Frosty ice cream, ten minutes ago, 

Turned to cinders, 


And now I think about it, 

All alone in my room, 

I find it strange, 

That all those feelings, 

Appeared in something so plain. 

After all, 

A kiss, 

Is just a kiss. 

Walking 

I walk, 

All alone. 

Yet I keep walking, 

Along the dusty road. 

Even though I know, 

No one will walk with me, 

I hope for someone who will 

… 

Will you? 

16

Memoirs 

“Lacrosse Can Hurt“ 

Chris Reese 

“Take cover, we're under attack!" yelled Austin 

as the ball came bounding back down the 

roof. Smack! It hit the ground, sending pieces 

of grass flying into the air. Then, it went 

soaring into the air, up and up.... 

and...SPLASH! The ball 

got to its key destination; the pool. 

At that time, we were in 6th grade. 

Austin was sort of new, and is really tall. He 

has gray/blue eyes and messy hair (I always 

tell him to brush it, it's that bad sometimes). 

Then there is Eric. He had come the 

last semester a bit later than the rest of us. 

He is just a bit short and chubby. His hair was 

a bit longer then it used to be, and it covered 

his eyes. 

"Are you coming out or not?" he asked. 

"I'll be out in a second, I just have to tie 

my shoe!" I yelled back at him. 

Eric and Austin were both were waiting 

for me, I needed to hurry up! 

"Chris, hurry up, it'll be nighttime 

before you come up!" 

I messed around with the knot and headed 

over to where they were standing. Eric and I 

had the shorter attack sticks while Austin had 

the huge defense stick. 

"I'm still a bit rusty so it might take a 

while." 

"Let me show you how high I can 

throw," he told us. 

"Whatever, just hurry up and throw, 

you're burning daylight." 

"Yeah, just do it," said Eric agreeing 

with me. 

As Austin gripped his cold, metallic 

pole, he swung it upwards and sent 

the ball hurling into space. 

Now, his house isn't one of those small 

houses, it was close to gigantic. It had three 

stories, each floor had at least five windows 

on each level (luckily,it didn't have any sun 

lights until the top, and it was only a tennis 

ball). 

ball!” 

“Oh great! Now we'll have to get a new 

“Dude, no we don't, just use your rod 

and fish it out.” I replied to him. 

“Still, we could use another ball. This 

one's all wet.” Eric said. 

“Duh, it fell into the water! How else do 

you expect it to get wet!” I told Eric. 

“Let's just get started with the game. 

I've been waiting long enough.” 

“Finally, but I have a question. How do 

you catch and throw?” I inquired. 

“Didn't you see me throw? Or did you 

just happen to glance away at that exact 

moment?” 

“Okay, okay, now that we have an 

agreement, how do you catch and craddle?” 

“It's cradling, and they're both easy.” 

So Austin showed Eric and I how to do 

that “stuff” he told us in his smallish backyard. 

After he demonstrated thousands upon millions 

of throws, it was time for our not-so-big game. 

As it just happened to be, it was Eric and me 

versus Austin. We had to be careful, because 

we had no padding. And lacrosse is known to be 

more brutal than hockey. Uh-oh. Big uh-oh. 

Eric started out with the ball. I ran 

ahead yelling “Pass! Pass!”, only to get bowled 

over by Austin. All he did was scoop up the ball 

and made his speed shot. The blur sped into 

the goal, only to ricochet off the wall, and fall 

down the basement stairs. 

After retrieving the ball, it was my turn 

to start out with it. I was having a bit of 

trouble with my stiff blue-jean jacket. I 

couldn't get the position right with it, so I put 

that thought aside and concentrated on the 

moment. 

As Austin tore over, I ran right towards 

him. I then had to throw the ball to Eric in 

order to get out of the way of my charging bull. 

We didn't have a chance. When Eric passed 

back to me, I tried to make a shot. 

Suddenly, Austin materialized out of the 

air behind me. To him, I was like a ripe apple 

ready to be picked. His stick collided with 

mine, and, unluckily (at least for me) my 

thumb was right where his stick hit. 

It hit right above my nail. 

“Ow, gosh that hurt!” I yelled. 

I started to suck the warm and dark red 

liquid coming out of my slight wound. 

“Dude, does it hurt?” 

17

Memoirs 

“Lacrosse Can Hurt“ 

Continued 

“No, but it really does sting.” 

How hard and fast can people move 

those sticks if Austin didn't even hit me that 

hard? I thought to myself. I need to see more 

people play. And that is when my interest in 

lacrosse started to grow. 

Eric came bustling over wanting to 

know what happened. So I retold the story to 

him. 

“Do you have anything to cover it with, 

like a band-aid?” 

` “Thanks for being concerned, but I 

don't need one. Besides that it is cold out 

here. Let's go inside.” 

So, inside we went. We had learned a 

few lacrosse moves that we would probably 

forget in the next two or three minutes. I, 

too, had a cut and bruise on my left hand 

thumb. 

The little video keeps on running in my 

head, over and over again. Later, Austin said 

the I am a natural, which probably isn't true. 

At that time, I had no idea how many games 

we were going to play later on in our 

friendship. 

18

Memoirs 

“Stop, Drop and Surf“ 

Amory Brandon Brandon practicing how to paddle lying on the sand and 

also how to get up. 

I rolled over, cursed the rooster that crowed When is it going to be my turn? I really want to 

so early, and checked my watch. It was 4:30 try this, I thought to myself. 

AM. I swore again and sat up. The sun was “Amory, get over here. Its your turn.” 

peeking through the screen of my tent and I ran through the salty spray of the ocean 

creating shadows that crept around sleeping carrying my board under my right arm. 

bag. I stepped outside my tent and saw the “Surfing is simple enough. The hardest part is 

early sun wavering above the water. I crept not balancing on the board; it's getting your 

out onto the beach and went over to the 

timing right and learning when to paddle. If you 

remains of last night's bonfire. A few coals can get your timing right, getting up shouldn't 

were just hot enough for me to start making a be that much of a problem. When you get on 

new fire of my own. 

the board keep your knees bent and don't step 

“Good morning for surfing isn't it?” a voice to far forward. Now we need to wait for a wave 

said behind me. 

to break ahead and you can start off by 

I turned and saw Kristal, the best surfer and catching some white water.” 

the youngest of our group standing behind I didn't want to catch white water though. I 

me. Kristal was the only one of us who knew wanted to get out into deeper water and start 

how to surf, but she was still just as eager as trying to catch big waves such as four to six 

the rest of us to get on out and ride some feet. Those waves out there didn't seem that 

waves. 

big. I could get those, I thought. 

“Yeah, but we still have a few hours to wait. A jerk on my board snapped me out of my 

The tide could change in a couple hours and thoughts. I heard some yelling something as I 

the wind could also change and make the rushed away, the white water snapping at my 

waves dump.” 

feet like vicious rabid dogs. I jumped to my 

Kristal nodded and sat down on a log feet and nearly tipped the board, but I caught 

across from me. We sat for ten minutes in my balance as the wave slowed down. I jumped 

silence until we were interrupted by the 

down but my ankle cord snagged my ankle and I 

sound of footsteps. 

went headfirst into the shallow water. I came 

“Ready to surf?” 

up spluttering like a fish out of water and 

Kristal and I both nodded. Javi, one of pulled my board back to where Melida was 

the counselors at the camp came and sat standing. After repeating the process a few 

down next to us. 

more successful times I was free to join the 

Gradually the rest of the camp3 woke others and start surfing on my own. 

up and so began our first surf lesson. I was The wave rumbled behind me, hitting my legs 

eager to try out surfing for two reasons. One but I held my legs firm and rode the wave out. I 

was because it was such an exciting sport and held my head high and had a tight grin 

second was because I was unable to play any stretched across my face. I jumped back off my 

other sports for the time being. I had an 

board and turned it around. Luke paddled up 

injury with my knees that put me on the 

next to me and we both turned, looking into 

injured list for sixth months currently and the endless horizon. 

many more months to come. 

Over the next eight hours I didn't catch that 

“All right. Who thinks they know what to do?” many waves, but I was definitely pleased with 

said our other counselor Melida. 

myself. I thought I did fairly well for my first 

No one raised his or her hand. Without time. I loved the sensation of the waves roaring 

hesitation Melinda carried on about the 

behind me about to crush me to pieces until I 

dynamics of surfing, how to paddle, where to shot ahead, just out of its reach as it crumbled 

stand, how to get up, when to start paddling behind me. 

and how to get past the breaking waves. We The sun faded, the waves grew darker, a 

soon finished the lecture and started 

gloomy appearance settled around the beach of 

19

Memoirs 

“Stop, “Stop, Drop and Surf“ 

Continued 

our fire, and shadows jumped from palm tree 

to palm tree. I sat on the beach icing my 

knees and looking out at the sea. I knew I 

found a new hobby, something I could do 

whenever I needed a break from everything 

else that troubled me. I slowly walked back to 

camp and went to bed, looking forward 

towards a whole day of surfing. I felt my eyes 

gradually closing. Sounds echoed around camp 

until all that could be heard was the soft 

pounding of waves. But then as if it had been 

waiting for me about to fall asleep, wanting 

to torture my night again, a rooster crowed. I 

swore and lay awake for sometime until my 

aching body forced me to give in to the 

sleepiness. It was a long night. 

20

Memoirs 

“Never Again“ 

Alis Alis Anasal Anasal “Then they should have been here 

yesterday,” I shouted, close to tears. 

I slumped down into my seat, watching 

“Give me a break, Alis,” my mother said 

my home flash by the car window. Everything turning around, her face getting all squinchy 

was going to change. I felt like crying. The like it does when she's mad, “I have a lot to 

car service smelled like smoke and barf and I do.” 

was overheating, despite the freezing weather 

“Well I don't!!!” I screamed back, 

outside. My mom reached over and patted my ignoring the danger signs that should have gone 

leg, but I pulled away. 

off in my head the minute her jaw clenched. I 

“It'll be okay,” she said. Liar. 

stormed out of the (large) kitchen, my bare 

feet slapping against the cold black stone that 

Two weeks ago I left New York. I left seemed to cover the entire first floor of our 

my life, I left my friends, I left my home. I (large) house. I was really feeling the effect of 

didn't want to go to Argentina, but fourteen not having my books. I spent my days watching 

hours later I was stepping out of the airport, television, slouched against the red couch in 

greeted, not only by my grandmother, but the my parents bedroom, stuffing myself with 

sweltering heat. I was feeling a little more heavenly sweet medialunas and surfing the 

optimistic than when I had first embarked on web. I knew I loved my books, but I never 

this so-called “great adventure”. 

knew how much I depended on them. Without 

'It won't be so bad,' I told myself. 'I books, I was nothing. How could I be a “book 

have my family, and I have my books.' 

worm” without the books? Then I would just be 

Reading is everything to me. Whenever I am a worm. It was as if someone had cut off my 

bored, I read, whenever I am sad, I read, hands, and you can't do much without hands. 

whenever I want, I read. I was a little 

The days dragged by hot, boring, and, 

concerned, though. The books in Argentina bookless. 

would, for the most part, be in Spanish. So, 

“ALIS, stop watching TV!!! MOVE a 

for months I had been saving books. 

little!!” my mom would shout. 

Whenever there was a book that I was just 

“I am moving......my thumb,” was my 

dying to read I would put it aside, saving it for muttered response. 

Argentina. Everyone contributedmy teachers, 

“Don't you have something to read?” my 

my friends, and my parents. A week before mom said, exasperatedly. 

we left, my mom sent the box ahead. It was 

“NOOOOO!!!” I hollered at her. 

so covered in clear, extra strong, tape, I could 

Finally on Saturday, a week after our 

have sworn that it had gained a couple 

arrival, my books came. But it wasn't enough 

pounds. I wondered if I would be able to open that they had made me wait for over a week, 

it up to get to the forty-three books inside. they had to make me wait two more long 

“It'll be there when we arrive,” my hours, spent in line at the post office. Finally 

mom told me, trying to calm the stem of 

though, I was able to open them. Never had 

worries erupting from my mouth. Liar. 

books looked so appealing as they did then. I 

saw them, in perfect rows, smelling 

So I waited, and waited, and waited. wonderfully of age, paper, and, well…books. 

The (really big) house was fine, the pool was 

“Never again,” I told my parents, “Never 

great, but my books weren't there. 

again.” But I couldn't stay annoyed at them 

“Where are my books?” I yelled at my forever, after all, I had my books, I had my 

mom. 

“Honey,” she said impatiently, “they 

said 5-8 business days, they'll be here.” Her 

back was turned, her hands busy doing the 

laundry that had accumulated since our 

arrival. 

hands, I was whole again. 

21

Short Stories 

“Abandoned“ 


“I'll be at the kitchen…José?” Marita beckoned 

the young boy behind her. Finally, closing the 

door quietly behind themselves. Carla was left 

alone. She stood up after a while, and slowly 

went to the old cabinet they had managed to 

keep from their old house (and their father's 

wrath, he had wanted to sell it). It was made 

of wood with gold designs of leafs and dragons 

(now nearly invisible because of the dust). She 

grasped one of the golden knobs, and pulled 

at it slowly, opening the drawer. 

A raspy sound came with it, sounding 

like one of the witches her mother had told 

her about when small. She sneezed. The 

drawer was completely open now. There, in 

the middle of the dark inside, was a picture 

frame with a picture. Carla positioned her 

fingers on the edges of the frame. She gently 

pulled the picture out of it's hiding place, 

then brought it up to her face. The figures in 

the photo were mere shadows at the moment, 

because of the thick layers of dust. Carla blew 

the layers off. She felt the dust dance around 

her for a few moments, until it finally cleared 

off and she could see the picture better. 

The photo had been taken in a sunny 

garden. There was Marita, her hair neatly 

formed into a perfect bun with a beautiful 

long white dress on, as well as a veil. Next to 

her, to the left, was Paco. Handsome in his 

black tux, bought especially for the occasion. 

Behind Marita were two girls. One looked 

exactly like Marita, only much younger and 

she was wearing a blue and baby blue dress. 

Her hair was made into pigtails. The girl next 

to her had the same hair and hairdo, but she 

had Paco's calm green eyes. Her dress was 

yellow and green. She was holding a small 

clueless boy with Paco's hair and Marita's eyes. 

Carla remembered that day well enough. Vale 

and her had begged their parents if they could 

have a second marriage, so that they could 

see it. Finally, after two long years, they 

consented. So that day they had all gone to 

the church, dressed appropriately, of course, 

and witnessed their parents second marriage. 

Carla let her fingers trail on the frame's 

texture. There was a small angel at the 

bottom right, and another a the upper left. 

The one at the left carried a banner that read: 

'Always together, for now and all eternity'. 

Letting her fingers travel through the message, 

she wondered just how much of it was true 

now. 

Something made of glass crashed against 

the floor suddenly, as though millions of ice 

pieces had fallen from the sky. 

22

Short Stories 

“Rumors“: Stream of Conscious 

Mary McClain 

“No, he's actually in a coma! I know, I'm 

totally serious!” Oh man, I hope Dan is okay. 

He's been in that coma since last night! Who 

knows what will happen? Those hospitals are 

so white. Covered in white. It's like heaven. 

Oh my god, what if Dan dies? I could never 

see him again. Who would carry my books, 

they're much too heavy to carry myself! Who 

will be my Spring Fling date then? Maybe 

Thomas would ask me. No, Dan is much cuter. 

He just can't die, he can't. Oh please don't let 

him die! 

“I know I'm so scared for him! Being in 

that hospital unable to wake up. All alone,” I 

think Renee has a crush on Dan! What if she 

tries to steal him? 

“Hey Lily! Oh sure! So should I pick 

you up at six then? We'll deliver the flowers 

and then make sure he's comfortable,” 

“No no, roses are too cliché, I mean 

gosh, he's not dying, he just had to stay a 

couple nights, that's all!” 

Oh no, now I know Lily wants him as 

well! I mean why would she want to bring 

him flowers if she wasn't in love with him? 

Maybe I could stop by the hospital early so he 

can see who really cares about him! Oh no, 

wait, that will definitely cut in to my 

manicure time, and then I'll have to wait 

about half an hour after that to let them dry. 

I mean, I can't just go parading around town 

with highly chip-able nails. I heard Karen 

Smith did that, big uh oh. She smeared them 

all over her new white hoddie. I guess I could 

just go another day, I mean he'll be there all 

week, all alone. Even at night! Man, that's 

creepy. What if his mom is at the hospital 

when I get there? Will she know something is 

up? Nah, I don't think she'd put two and two 

together. Unless Manny is visiting as well. Oh 

gosh, that'd be a nightmare! 

“What's up Gary?” 

“Dan what-?” 

“Are you sure? I thought for a couple 

of nights?” 

“Oh, his knee eh?” 

“Alright thanks then! Bye!” 

Poor Dan! His leg must be killing him! 

I know that once, when my cousin Hector hurt 

his knee, he like, had to stay in bed for two 

weeks and couldn't get up at all! Not even on a 

date! Gosh, I hope Dan can still go on dates! 

“Oh, hey Manny! How are you doing?” 

“Oh, yes I know! Wow, you're blowing 

this way out of proportion! Gosh, calm down. 

No, Dan just went to see about his knee. You 

know? The whole last shot of the basketball 

game fiasco?” 

Wow, Manny can make such a big deal 

out of tiny things! I mean, after Dan scored 

that amazing winning shot in the basketball 

game the other day, he had landed on his leg so 

incredibly hard that he heard a shrieking crack 

and his whole kneecap had turned purple! 

Purple! My god what kind of color is that? I 

mean, it'd have been so much cooler if it had 

turned like white or something. Now white is a 

pretty cool color. Or even orange. Wow, can 

you even imagine an orange bruise? Wow. 

Anyways, yeah so Dan just had to see if he 

broke his knee that's all. I heard they had to 

carry him away on a special ambulance that 

drove right up onto the basketball court! I was 

completely surprised myself! An ambulance 

that actually drove onto the court? How cool! 

They had to rush him to the emergency room 

too. 

“Oh, hi Will! I didn't see you there.” 

“Yes, I know I know! Dan had to go to 

the hospital after the big game!” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Oh thank god! Are you 125% sure it was 

just a check-up?” 

“Great! Ok well, bye Will!” 

A check-up! Yes, just a check-up! This is great! 

Well, maybe not so great. I mean, I've heard of 

check-ups gone wrong before. Uh oh… 

“Hi Courtney! How are you doing?” 

“Oh yes, I'm great, about to go visit Dan 

right now!” 

“Oh no no, don't worry about it! Dan 

just went for a check-up! In and out that's all. 

Very casual.” 

“Yeah, there's practically nothing wrong 

with him at all.” 

“Well, yeah see you! Buh bye!” 

I wonder how long until this lunch period 

ends? Ugh, I'm so tired. No! I can't believe I 

23

Short Stories 

“Rumors“ 

Continued 

have Hassani next. God is she tough. Math 

has got to be my worst subject. Well, other 

then English, Social Studies or Science. Come 

to think of it, they're all pretty horrible. I 

totally failed this one science test and I was 

doomed for the rest of the semester. I've 

finally given up on it. I mean, it's not like I'm 

going to be some scientist when I grow up. 

No, I'll be Mrs. Dan Rotcher. Sounds pretty 

nice doesn't it? I think so. 

“Greg, wait up!” 

“About Dan, did he actually even go to 

the hospital?” 

“No?” 

“Yes! Ah Will, you have just made my 

day! Bye-bye hun.” 

And he never even stepped foot in the place! 

Oh my god, this is like so great. My boyfriend 

isn't hospitalized the least bit at all! Yes! I 

can finally show off my victory dance. That's 

right. 

“Hey Missy,” 

“Whoa, take a chill pill girl,” 

“Take each breath at a time,” 

“Oh, god no! Where in the world did 

you hear such nonsense?” 

“Courtney eh?” 

“Oh no, she's got it all wrong!” 

“The truth of the matter is, and be 

sure to note that I explained this very, very 

carefully to her. You know? Using small words 

too. You have to talk pretty slow with that 

one. Dan never went to the hospital!” 

“No, are you kidding me?” 

“He's as healthy as a horse!” 

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure horses are 

healthy,” 

“Well, isn't it some kind of expression?” 

“No I don't know where I heard it, 

maybe Professor Hassani.” 

“Calm Down. Like I said before, Dan 

hasn't been to the hospital since he was like 

six and had a marble stuck up his nose!” 

“Ew no, gross. I did not see the marble 

actually in his nose!” 

“Yeah, ok you go do that. Don't run too 

hard. I hear it's bad for you or something.” 

“Bye, bye! I'll catch you later!” 

Why in the world would someone 

actually choose to run and kill your body like 

that? I mean running and running, pounding on 

your legs so hard can't be good, right? Maybe 

I'll stop by Dan's house later. I bet he'll need 

some help with the homework. Not that I'll be 

any help but maybe I could bring over some get 

well cookies. Maybe he has a terrible cold. 

Oh no! Colds are contagious! There's no way 

I'm getting a cold! Not with the Spring Fling 

Dance coming up so soon! It could totally ruin 

my chances of getting queen. Queen. Could 

you imagine how great it'd be if I, Hailey were 

queen of the ball? I think I'll go call Dan to see 

how he's doing. If I get behind just the right 

tree, the teachers won't walk by it for another 

ten minutes. Cell phones are restricted, what 

a silly rule. I mean, what if you have an 

emergency? This totally counts as one. I'm 

sure of it. 

“Dan! Hi! Oh my god! It's so great to 

hear your voice!” 

“Well, yeah I know you've only been 

absent today.” 

“…and it's only halfway through the day,” 

“You what--,” 

“Oh right, you missed the bus,” 

“Of course I knew! How could I not 

know what was going on!” 

“Your mom is dropping you off?” 

“I'll see you soon then!” 

“Okay. Buh Bye!” 

24

Short Stories 

“My Pretty Pink Dress“ 

Elena Miles 

Parents are so embarrassing. Take my dad. 

Every time a friend comes to stay the night, 

he does something that makes my face blaze. 

But mom is worse. 

One particular example comes to mind 

of when she completely humiliated me. I think 

it was way back last fall. I was completely 

bored all October (I mean who wouldn't be, 

what is there to do In fall?) But October 14, 

was completely different. I was totally 

excited. Shaniqua, Liz, Jessica, Marissa and 

Claire were all coming to my house. The plan 

was that they would pick me up. Then all of 

us would head out to Darren's party. I peered 

at myself in the mirror and piled my hair on 

top of my head. Then let it fall when my dad 

shouted “Hannah, your friends are here!!” I 

sprinted down stairs and flung open the front 

door where all five of the girls were waiting. 

“Hey Hannah.” The girls chorused. 

“Hey” I said coolly. We then staggered 

up to my room and starting trying on different 

items of clothing, picking out our favorite 

thing to wear to Darren's party. My mom must 

have overheard because she waltzed into the 

room with the dress my crazy Aunt Helga sent 

me in her arms. (By this time the floor was 

covered with skirts, shirts, jackets and shoes.) 

“Honey, why don't you wear this pretty pink 

dress?” I heard my friends snicker behind me. 

The “pretty” dress was absolutely horrible! It 

was bright pink with neon green polka- dots 

and disgusting little fairies all over it. And to 

tell the truth, the dress had NO shape, it was 

literally a sack. 

My moms face fell after I said “um no 

way!” No. She didn't look disappointed, she 

looked hurt. All this sudden I felt terrible; I 

couldn't bear to see my mom with such a sad 

look on her face. Twenty minutes later when 

my friends started babbling on about different 

make-up, I knew this was my cue to leave. I 

quietly slipped out of my room and walked 

down the stairs. My mom was busy cutting 

carrots by the counter. “Mom, I like the dress, 

but it's just not the right thing to wear to 

Darren's party.” She whirled around. 

“What?” 

“Look mom I'm sorry-“ 

“Wait, did you just say you were going to 

Darren's party?” 

“Um yeah, why?” 

“No, you will not, absolutely not, go to Darren's 

party.” 

“But mom!” 

“No honey, I know him, he is a bad boy!!” 

“But Mom, I have to go he has a python, a 

cockatoo, and a marmoset monkey!” 

“I couldn't care less if your friend Darren has a 

peacock, an alligator or a baboon! The answer 

is still no.” 

“Mom, all my friends are up stairs and if they 

find out we can't go, they are going to be 

extremely hysterical!” I was really trying to 

remain calm. 

“No, nyet. Nó” 

By then I just lost it. “I'll do anything. 

Please let me go!” 

She was silent for a couple of minutes. I 

could tell this was gonna turn ugly. “Tell you 

what, you can go, but only if you wear your 

pretty pink dress.” My mom is really stubborn, 

so I knew there was no point in arguing. So I 

just trudged up the stairs and into my room. 

When I started untangling the pink dress from 

its hanger, my friends stared at me in horror. 

“What?” I snapped. 

“No way are you going to the party like that!” 

Shaniqua insisted. “Well it's this or no party at 

all.” 

When I hopped out of Claire's car I 

immediately knew that tonight was going to be 

a LONG night. I had been there for 2 seconds 

and people were already staring at me as if I 

were some type of freak. Or the other famous 

look was when they stared at me like I was two 

years old. For heaven's sake, I even felt two 

years old. All night long I heard comments like 

“nice dress loser.” And “what's with the dress?” 

But all that didn't matter, because 

Miranda, the most popular girl in school said “I 

like your dress, can I borrow it sometime?” 

I was totally happy. I felt special all night long. 

Then I realized hey, maybe my mom was right. 

Then again, she always is. 

25

Short Stories 

“My Pretty Pink Dress “ written as a play script 

Elena Miles 

Scene One 

(A teenage girl about 14 is in her room 

looking at herself in the mirror. Dark hair and 

Blue eyes. On the thin side. This girl is 

obviously excited. This girl is HANNAH. The 

doorbell rings and HANNAH sprints down the 

stairs and flings open the door.) 

By the Front Door 

SHANIQUA, LIZ, JESSICA, MARISSA, CLAIRE: 

Hey Hannah! 

HANNAH: Hey gals! Whats up? Do you guys 

wanna go up stairs and chill? 

CLAIRE: Coolness 

They jog upstairs in to Hannah's room, and 

they start pulling out clothes from the closet 

and trying everything on. 

MARISSA: Oh my gosh this purple tube top is 

soooooo cute! 

HANNAH: It was only 17 bucks! I got it at JC 

Penny 

SHANIQUA: You should totally try it on! 

Marissa tries on the shirt. 

JESSICA: Oh My Gosh!!!That looks PERFECT on 

you. 

MARISSA: I don't know, I think it makes me 

look fat. 

CLAIRE: No it doesn't!! You always think that! 

You have the perfect body. And you know it! 

Liz: YA I know im so jealous! 

MARISSA: Whatever 

Hannah's mom, late 40's comes waltzing in 

with a HIDEOUS pink, frilly, shapeless dress. 

Her name is SHIELA. 

SHIELA: Hannah, why don't you try on this 

pretty pink dress? 

Friends snicker in the background. 

HANNAH: Mom! 

SHIELA: What honey, why are you turning so 

red? What's wrong with it? 

HANNAH: Well first it is BRIGHT pink, second 

it had neon green polka dots on it, and third it 

has DISGUSTING little fairies all over it! 

SHIELA: Well you aunt Helga sent it to you! You 

love Aunt Helga! 

HANNAH: Mom, Aunt Helga is also crazy! Mom, 

end of story! IM NOT GONNA WEARTHAT STUPID 

RETARDED DRESS! 

SHIELA: Excuse me. (She then rushes out the 

door, obviously hurt.) 

CLAIRE: No offense Hannah, I know that dress 

was ugly but that was really harsh of you…. 

HANNAH: Like I care. Anyway what makeup are 

you guys gonna wear? (Trying to Change the 

Subject) 

LIZ: Well I really like Cosmo girl. 

SHANIQUA: Really? Cover girl is sooo much 

better! 

JESSICA: I like them both. (She avoids making 

eye contact with either.) 

10 minutes later -Now the floor is covered with 

clothes all over it. Filed with skirts, shirts, and 

pants strewn across the floor. 

HANNAH: I'll be right back. 

CLAIRE: Chowness! 

Scene Two 

(Hannah sauntered down the stairs enters the 

kitchen and see that her mom is cutting carrots 

at the counter) 

HANNAH: Mom I like the dress, but it's just not 

the right thing to wear to Darren's Party (Saying 

this in a calm tone. Clearly lying through her 

teeth. SHEILA whirls around.) 

SHEILA: What? 

HANNAH: Look my mom I’m sor- 

SHIELA: No you will not absolutely NOT go to 

Darren's party!’ 

HANNAH: But mom! 

SHEILA: No honey, I know him! He is completely 

out of control! 

HANNAH: But Mom! I have to go! He has a 

python, a cockatoo, and marmoset monkey! 

26

Short Stories 

“My Pretty Pink Dress “ Playscript 

Continued 

SHEILA: I couldn't care less if Darren has a 

peacock, an alligator or an ostrich! The 

answer is still No. 

HANNAH: Mom, all my friends are upstairs and 

if they find out we can't go they are gonna be 

extremely hysterical! (Really trying to remain 

calm.) 

SHEILA: No, nyet, no. 

HANNAH (now yelling): I'll do anything! Please 

let me go! 

SHEILA: (Thinking) Tell you what, you can go, 

but only if you were your pretty pink dress. 

HANNAH: Curse you! I HATE you. You ruin my 

life! 

SHEILA: That's what I'm destined to do!!! 

HANNAH: Well you do a pretty good job at it 

mom. 

SHIELA: Thank you honey. 

HANNAH: Shut up 

Scene Three 

HANNAH is now in her room untangling the 

dress and all her friends are staring at her in 

horror. 

HANNAH: What???(In a snapping voice) 

SHANNIQUA: No way are you going to the 

party like that! (Putting her hands on her hip) 

JESSICA: I'm Sorry, but Hannah, have you gone 

completely insane? 

HANNAH: Well it's this or no party at all… 

CLAIRE: I thought you hated that dress. 

HANNAH: I do, but well, you don't know my 

mom. 

LIZ: Oh, is she making you. 

HANNAH: (Sarcastically) No Liz, im just 

wearing this dress cause I like it. 

SHANIQUA: Just wear it out of the house and 

then just change when we get there. 

HANNAH: I don't think that's a good idea… 

MARISSA: What are you scared your mamas 

going to catch you! 

HANNAH: You know what! Fine I'll change 

when I get there. Jessica, can you get the red 

halter top out of my closet along with the 

faded jeans? I have to go change. 

Scene Four 

Later That Night at Darren's Party 

(Still light out side but sun will set in about an 

hour. Loud music is throbbing) 

HANNAH: Jessica? Did you bring my change of 

clothes? 

JESSICA: Um, well I sorta forgot….. 

HANNAH: You idiot! Now im stuck looking like a 

two year old all night!!! 

JESSICA: Hannah, im sorry, I was busy getting 

ready… 

HANNAH: Well thanks for being a good friend 

Jessica. 

Sun has now set and it is dark out 

LIZ: Hey Hannah, are you ok??We've been here 

for 45 minutes and you are really quiet and 

you've been following me the whole time! Look, 

go try to talk to people, lighten up! What's 

wrong?? 

HANNAH is silent. 

LIZ: Oh I know!!! You're embarrassed about your 

dress. Look Hannah, it will just look like a 

fashion statement gone wrong. 

LIZ: Geez, no one has even noticed!! 

HANNAH: See the thing is your super out-going. 

I mean, it's not like I'm shy, but well you are 

different. You could put on this dress and 

march out boldly on the dance floor and have 

the time of your laugh and act like nothings 

wrong…Well im not like you, I can't lighten up. 

Individual people pass by and each one 

comments. 

Guy # 1: What's with the dress loser??? 

GIRL #1are you trying to look like 2 years old? 

Because if you are, you are doing a very good 

job of it! 

Girl #2: If you think that dress makes you look 

hot, you are soo wrong! 

(To Liz)HANNAH: And you thought they didn't 

27

Short Stories 

“My “My Pretty Pink Dress “ Playscript 

Continued 

even notice me. 

SHANIQUA: Oh my god!! Look Miranda is 

walking over this way! She never talks to us!! 

Whats this all about??? 

CLAIRE: I don't know, let's see what she wants. 

MIRANDA: Hey girls. 

ALL except Miranda: Hey(very quite) 

MIRANDA: Hey Hannah, I came over here to 

ask you about your dress. 

HANNAH: Great (she mumbles) 

MIRANDA: I really like it, can I borrow it 

sometime?? 

HANNAH: Uh sure! 

MIRANDA: Kay, see you girls around! 

MARISSA: Did she just say what I think she 

said? 

HANNAH: Ya (squealing) 

SHANIQUA: The most popular girl in the whole 

school just came up and talked to you 

Hannah, all just because of your dress… 

HANNAH: Ya, maybe my mom was right. This 

dress isn't that bad, but then again, my mom 

is always right. 

The Characters 

Main Characters 

Hannah- a 14 year old girl who's a little bit bratty, 

brown hair blue eyes and on the thin side. 

Typical teenage girl. 

Sheila: Hannah's mom. In her late 40's. Strict, 

stubborn and unreasonable. 

Secondary Characters 

Shaniqua: One of Hannah's friends, bossy and 

loud spoken. And willing to take chances. 

Liz: Very out- going. Bold, not really caring what 

people think about her. 

Jessica: On the shy side. Never wants to 

disappoint anyone. Not as striking as the other 

girls, so she does not have as much self- 

esteem. She feels out of place. 

Marissa: The type of girl that everyone would 

think she is perfect. Perfect body, hair, and 

perfect face. She knows it, but most the time, 

acts like she doesn't so she can fish for 

compliments. 

Claire: The sincere one, the honest and truthful, 

and a good friend, sticking and supporting you 

by your side no matter what. She is always 

honest and gives her opinion as you will see in 

this skit. 

Extras: 

Guy 

Girl #1 

Girl #2 

Miranda: The most popular girl in school, but 

she is caring towards everyone as well. She has 

a mind of her own, and doesn't follow the 

crowd, even when the crowd follows her. 

28

Short Stories 

“Time and Place “ 


Time 

The forest floor creaked as the dog trotted 

ahead. The gentle beast and his owner paced 

up the creek. He judged it was about ten 

o'clock. The water laughed its way through 

the brook and made profound pools where the 

fair skinned owner and his hound splashed. 

The rain had ceased at dawn and now crystal 

droplets fell from the ancient trees. The 

owner crouched down and the radiating 

golden sun reflected off the water and bathed 

his face. He picked up a rounded piece of lilac 

glass from the side of the creek where the 

water and sand met and thought of his past 

when the palm sized turtles wadded their way 

through spongy mud and gritty sand. 

Mood 

As we strode up to the open café we heard 

shrill voices, calling for their ice-cream 

orders. Thrilled by knowing we were close to 

our destination we ran on ahead. When we 

turned the corner I peered around a pillar but 

couldn't see past the crowds to end of the 

cashier line. Everyone in line was engrossed in 

their own conversations, oblivious to the rest 

of the world. My sister and I dragged our feet 

to the end of the line, a whole block away. We 

took up a position and stood there amused by 

people and their out of fashion or random 

clothes that had foolish sayings written on 

them like “Dangerous flower”. After standing 

in an unmoving line for five minutes I walked 

up to see if the rest of the line was moving. 

When I came back and reported to my sister, 

much to my dismay we weren't. At a quarter 

past seven we had only walked forward 

halfway up the block. By the time we reached 

the cashier the sun was down and we were 

exhausted. 

Spatial Order 

He silently shut the cracked green front door. 

As he turned around, a gray rabbit bounded 

across the black street in front of him. His 

German Shepard burst into the emerald forest 

in front of his home and to the side of the road, 

chasing the rabbit. He called to the dog and 

hiked up the hill, passing the cheery colored 

houses on his evening stroll. When he reached 

the top of the hill he peered at the town below, 

turned around and started down the other side. 

He turned a corner where the houses became 

scant, as the dog strayed father behind him, 

searching over the cliffs and down. Then man 

marveled at the cabins on stilts from across the 

street. Abruptly the road curved and he 

followed its path as he pulled himself through 

some tall grass. Far off in the distance lay a 

cottage, russet with a blond wood lining around 

the windows and door. The man sank down into 

the grass, melting away from sight only to 

appear again behind the lodge, vanishing into 

another emerald forest. 

29

Short Stories 

“Getting Around Buenos Aires Aires “ Newspaper Article Article 

Austin Hays Hays 

Living in Buenos Aires is a treat. It has a great 

climate and wonderful culture. But every expat 

knows that their worst nightmare 

surrounds us, lurking into the shadows, 

planting fear in our innocent hearts; THE WAY 

ARGENTINES TRAVEL! 

The number one cause of deaths in 

Argentina is “car-related.” And it is no 

wonder why; some people have even shot 

each other over minor fender benders. Others 

prefer to take out their anger by hand signals 

and vocabulary, much to the amusement of 

the ex-pats who do not have any idea what 

they are saying. In the midst of this chaos 

there is one common factor, all the drivers are 

angry and impatient, and it shows! 

Any occasion in which we have to drive 

on the demigod infested roads of Argentina is 

hair-rising. Old imported jalopies zoom out of 

nowhere, as if they are demons escaping the 

fiery wraths of the deteriorated, unnoticed 

traffic lights. These traffic lights tell the 

drivers which way the streets go (not like it 

matters, considering the Argentines) but, 

don't show the way you may turn on the twoway 

streets. This results in more madman 

mayhem on their way to the next method of 

transportation. Every single one of the 

drivers think that the train will disappear 

unless they arrive at their destination, the 

train station within the next twenty seconds. 

Some of the drivers can't even wait for the 

trains to cross in front of them. Instead of 

stopping, they drive around the ineffective 

barriers (special to Buenos Aires) to have a 

little visit with their guaranteed death. Some 

are even crushed and end up being the main 

ingredient of impatient driver pie. 

Once the drivers crash into the train 

station they hold on for a wild ride on the 

train. That is, if they survived the roads. 

After arriving into the city, the endangered 

commuters walk to their workplace, thereby 

avoiding the ubiquitous, psychotic cars and 

buses accelerating through the fiendish 

frenzy. 

Other travelers prefer to take a taxi or 

remis. A remis is mostly a private taxi on call. 

Thoughthey are fancier than cabs (thank god.) 

If anyone isn't wealthy enough to have a car or 

are to lazy to drive, they call a remis. You 

might think that the remises drive more slowly 

or more carefully, but you'd be wrong! The 

remis drivers race upon the skid covered 

streets thinking that their paycheck is the bare 

minimum of a two-minute ride. Therefore 

endangering themselves, their clients and the 

pedestrians, hitting three birds with one stone, 

literally. The taxis are exactly the same only 

cheaper. 

Other mental cases, the ones who have 

escaped the asylum, prefer motorcycles. They 

don't wear helmets, use their turn signals, and 

most of the time have a woman parked on the 

back. There is only one good thing about the 

motorcycles; they can't take up two lanes! 

Some may worry for the cyclists but I figure 

nothing more can mess them up. I personally 

agree with ol' Charles Darwin, which by the way 

is a name of a street in Argentina, how ironic. 

Another option that the commuters face 

is the subway, tube, underground, metro or 

subte, whatever you call it. Once descending 

30 meters underground just to make sure you 

are safe from the careening death certificates 

above, the subway tunnels pop into sight. A 

mind-splitting screech of metal on metal erupts 

through the plaza; the subte has arrived. While 

avoiding the 3-inch abyss (or 7-centimeters for 

the commuters) between a broken subway and 

the station, you notice the unnerving glances of 

everyone else who has forgotten their daily cup 

of coffee. 

The last method of suicide you may take 

is the bus. Some people may think “what is 

wrong with a bus.” On these buses you'd wish 

you had a seatbelt! Believe me, by Argentine 

standards everything can go wrong. 

The people who really need anger 

management or what they seem to want, is a 

bigger paycheck, are the workers of Aerolineas 

Argentinas. For my only three trips in 

Argentina something catastrophic has 

happened. If the workers want to sleep in all 

they do is call their boss and tell them that 

they've found a bomb; if they need to go to 

30

Short Stories 

“Getting Around Buenos Aires “ 

Continued 

they bathroom, they call their boss, to say 

they are now on strike; anything and they will 

can find a way out of doing it. I mean hey 

who doesn't want to leave their customers 

stranded 600 miles from home and not refund 

their money? And right when you think that 

you may have had a successful trip you 

realize…YOUR LUGGAGE IS MISSING. Meaning 

that they have now lied, cheated and stolen. 

No matter how you travel here in 

Argentina there is one thing that keeps you 

sane, your destination. The city of Buenos 

Aires and the rest of Argentina is a marvelous 

country with great citizens (of course, this is 

debatable once they are behind the wheel) 

and wonderful places to visit. You may get 

frustrated traveling in Buenos Aires, but 

remember it is worth it! 

“Shadows“ 

Austin Hays 

The rough trail stretched under my feet 

through the heart of the forest. My clothes 

were ragged and damp and my head was hung 

low, away from the strained sunlight. The 

stream in the middle of the grim valley ahead 

trickled, echoing through the thick foliage. 

Each of the mist engulfed trees loomed into 

sight as quickly as they dissolved back into the 

sullen forest. The faint drizzle seeped, the 

hanging mist gripping my hunched shoulders. 

The weight of the forest crippled my steps as I 

walked on into the gloom. 

Shadows sprawled through on edge of 

the path, grasping for me. Shrieks of the 

ravens rang through the mucky path. 

Silhouettes of the sinister timbers were ebbed 

into the sunset. Branches reached for me as I 

ran past. Steps splattered into the darkness. 

31

Novel Excerpts 

Fire Witch Witch 


When her mother left, Samantha was so 

pleased with her own handiwork that she 

flopped deep down into her cushions to sleep 

into the night. Her dreams, though usually 

pleasant, were far from comforting. 

A vivid red light. Then a land made of 

volcanic ash and fires spluttering from the 

ground came into view. There, a man 

surrounded by black fire with gray hair was 

standing on a cliff. Beneath him there was an 

army of what seemed to be, fire creatures? 

Yes, made of fire and ash these creatures 

were floating a few feet away from the 

ground. On the other side there stood a 

beautiful woman. She had brownish-reddish 

hair. She was, if possible, standing on a huge 

wave. Beside her, there was a golden cat 

with sapphire eyes. Standing up to see the 

plain better, the curious girl noticed fabric 

touching her. She looked down at herself, and 

there it was again, that strange outfit that 

looked like it came out of a fictional movie. 

Suddenly, she felt a wave of hot air 

hit her. Then another. Looking in front of her 

she saw a face with a big open mouth, as if 

it wanted to eat her. Terrified, the girl 

turned and dashed through the black and 

red land that formed this unearthly place. 

The face, though, mirrored her every move. 

Never missing one of the stones she might 

have skipped, or jumping in an easier place. 

Samantha wasn't quite sure how it managed 

to follow her, she hadn't seen any legs. 

Finally, she was cornered against a curved 

black rock. It was strangely damp, and yet, 

made of the ashes of a volcano, it was warm. 

She felt the hot air behind her and turned, 

then started backing up until she felt the 

damp, lava hot dark stone. When she felt the 

stone, she stopped backing up and started to 

crouch. The face opened it's mouth, 

revealing it's red snakelike tongue which was 

dancing inside. She could also see fire inside 

that blackness, how, she wasn't sure. 

She kept crouching low, she didn't 

want to be this face's food. She was too 

young to die, and in such a strange way to die 

at that. Seriously, how many people had 

been eaten by a giant face? But, something 

that she didn't quite understand was, why? 

Why did this face want to eat her? Why when 

she was just a normal thirteen year old girl? It 

just didn't make sense. The face was now 

close, it's burning fires brought the crouching 

girl back to reality. 

Just before it had a taste of her flesh, 

Samantha woke up with a start and jumped 

from her bed. From her face, water dropped. 

Sweat. She looked around, she apparently had 

had a fight with her bed sheets, which were 

now a messy tangle. Not daring to go back to 

sleep she got a book and started reading till 

dawn came, that's how her parents found her 

when they woke up. Never though, did she tell 

anyone about the dream, and she didn't realize, 

what help it could have been. 

Chapter 4: 

Two weeks later, Samantha is still not 

saying much, although something was still 

bothering her. Her friends seemed to have 

forgotten the incident at the fast food 

restaurant and things seemed normal. One 

afternoon during the boredom of Social Studies 

though, when they were reading The Iliad, by 

Homer to create a play, something drew 

Samantha's attention. 

32


Hoop Dreams 

Paul Scott 

Whether you look right or left all you'll see 

are the same kids doing the same thing, 

sitting and scratching their head wondering 

what to do. No one ever could set up a 

basketball match, or organize a baseball 

game, because there was nothing to play on. 

The city Josh lived in was definitely a 

candidate for worst city in the world. His 

school was nothing different; his grades 

weren't showing his academic talent because 

he figured it didn't matter. He was going to go 

to the same college as everyone else, whether 

he was an A student or a C student. 

The only thing that kept Josh alive was 

basketball. Even though the only way he could 

play was alone in his back yard. His dad was 

always at work, and his brother, and sister 

thought he was crazy when he talked about 

taking over the NBA. 

In Josh's school he had a couple friends, 

but they weren't the kind of friends you want 

to hang around much. His teachers were the 

kind of teachers that never listened to the 

students, and thought they were always right. 

No one ever paid attention in class, so even if 

you tried to focus, you'd be too distracted. t 

This was Josh's last year of high school 

and he hated it. He never would have guessed 

the outcome it would have on him. 

It started during the end of summer 

vacation. Rumor had it that that year the 

school was going to have a basketball team. 

“Man this sucks,” I groaned to myself while I 

turned off the TV. “I hate this place, there's 

never anything to do.” (Usually I am alone so I 

have gotten into the habit of talking to 

myself). I walked outside to the backyard, the 

only place to escape Kentucky and be 

wherever I want to be. I can do this because I 

have the two most important things in my life 

there. A basketball hoop and a ball. I practice 

every day during my free time. Basketball has 

been the only sport I loved since I can 

remember. But the only thing I can't do well 

was play with a team. Not because I am a ball 

hog or anything, I just never got to play with 

anyone else. The only way I can learn about 

team play is through the tapes I saved up for. I 

know that sounds pathetic, but it's true. 

I was outside shooting hoops for a while 

when dad came in and said someone wanted to 

talk to me on the phone. I ran in and grabbed 

the phone. “Hello?” 

“Hey Josh it's me Frank, I just called to 

tell you that my dad and the principal decided 

on having a basketball team this year.” Frank 

was the P.E. teacher's son. 

“Why did they decide that,” I asked. 

“I was wondering that myself. The 

principle doesn't have any interest in real 

sports at all. I think their trying to find a way 

to get on TV or something.” 

“This is going to be great, when will it 

start?” 

“Second week of school.” 

“I can't wait. Anything else?” 

“No.” 

“Are you going to go?” 

“Yeah of course.” 

“Is that it?” I asked hoping to end the 

conversation. 

“Yeah, see ya.” 

“Bye.” 

I hung up the phone and started back to 

the backyard. 

“Who was it?” asked dad. 

“Frank, he said there's gonna be a 

basketball team this year.” 

“You like basketball don't you?” 

“Yeah,” I replied wondering when he'd 

ever be able to spend some time with his 

family. 

“Well that should be fun then.” 

I went back to the backyard and started 

playing again until dinner was ready. By that 

time I am always starving, so I rushed in and 

devoured my hamburger, went to my bathroom, 

took a shower, brushed my teeth and went to 

sleep. That was how it was the rest of the 

summer. 

“Wake up, you have got to get ready for 

school,” I heard as I unwillingly woke up. 

“Ugh, another year of torture.” 

“Why do you always do that?” Mom 

whined. 

“What!?” 

“Talk about your school like it's a living 

33


Hoop Hoop Dreams 

Continued 

nightmare.” 

“'Cause it is.” 

“Seriously, what's wrong with it?” 

“Well, for starters I don't have any good 

friends because everyone here is weird, and 

the teachers are always cranky. I think it is 

because they have no social life outside 

school. I can go on if you want.” 

Mom sighed and walked off. I got ready 

for school and waited for the bus. When it 

finally came I got on, walked to the back seat 

while the bus drove off. 

That day was like any other first day of 

school, teachers talk for most of the period, 

new kids, all that stuff. But the boredom 

changed when we got to P.E. 

The teacher was talking about what we 

were going to do during the year. The 

schedule was basically the same as last year, 

but when he started talking about basketball I 

was all ears. He was giving us details on the 

jerseys and days we would practice. He even 

gave us an idea on what schools we would 

play. 

The rest of the day rolled by as I 

daydreamed about playing in the NBA, and 

college games. That week came and went, but 

it seemed like this year things would change. 

Monday was the first day of basketball 

practice and after Coach Davis finished talking 

to us we played a five-on-five game to see 

where we were at. After the game Coach 

reread his tallies and announced everyone's 

statistics. I was highest in every category 

except assists and blocks. Coach Davis seemed 

disappointed that I hardly passed the ball, and 

I was under the impression he mistook me for 

someone who never passed at all. 

I waited until everyone left and went 

up to the coach. I told him that I knew I 

couldn't spread the ball around too good and 

asked him if he knew how he could help me. 

“When I was a kid I had the same 

problem, but then I heard of some drills that 

would help. Here's what I want you to do, 

when you get home pick a spot on a wall. 

Stand a pretty good distance from it and try 

to hit it with the ball as best you can. Once 

you've done that, do the same thing over 

again, but do bounce passes instead. One more 

thing, whenever you are bored and have 

nothing to do, try thinking up plays with four or 

more passes in them, that way you will be 

helping yourself and the team.” 

“Thank you sir, I'll do those drills as soon 

as I get home.” 

“You can just call me Coach.” 

“Ok, bye Coach.” 

“See ya.” 

I walked back home, and once I got 

there I went outside and started doing the drills 

until my mom yelled at me to come in. 

Afterwards I did my homework, ate and waited 

for the next day. 

The first game of the season was against 

Clemson and I was ready. I practiced in and out 

of school, plus got better at passing. I knew my 

dad wasn't going to come, and Mom had a book 

club meeting. I figured it would be better this 

way because if I screw up nobody in my family 

will know. The best thing was that the game 

was going to be held at our school, so we didn't 

have to ride in any crummy bus for hours. 

Once Clemson's team arrived I noticed 

how wimpy we must have looked. There teams' 

muscles were twice the size of ours and there 

jerseys were pretty tight around them while 

ours were baggy even when we tucked them in. 

Plus they were a lot taller than us; we would 

have to play hard to beat this team. 

34


Lindsay Lyalot 


Mrs. Lyalot was taking a nap on the living 

room sofa after a long day of spring-cleaning. 

Lindsay saw this as an excellent 

opportunity to play a prank on her mom. She 

quietly sprinted to her room to get all the 

fake make-up that she had. When she came 

back, she bent over her mother's body, and 

started on her masterpiece. 

After a few minutes, she straightened 

up and said, “There, all done,” in a very 

satisfied voice. 

Lindsay tiptoed to the living room and 

plopped on the couch. She switched on the 

television and turned the volume up to the 

maximum and waited. 

Her mother woke up with a jump. 

“Ohmygod! What was that?” she uttered. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Mom. Someone left 

the volume up before I switched on the TV,” 

she replied simply. Lindsay glanced up at her 

mom and giggled. 

“What's so funny?” Mrs. Lyalot asked a 

little annoyed. 

“Nothing, nothing… I just remembered 

a joke that Randy told me, that's all.” 

“Uh huh…” She raised her eyebrow and 

walked to the staircase to her bedroom. 

Lindsay counted the seconds in her 

head. Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… 

“AHHHHH!” Mrs. Lyalot's shrill scream 

pierced the air. “Lindsay Ana Katrina Lyalot, 

get your smart mouth up here! Right now!” 

Her voice was thick with astonishment, which 

rarely happened. Lindsay giggled in spite of 

the trouble she was in and sighed as she 

walked up the stairs. She was good. 

Once there, her mother gave her the 

usual speech about how she was now eleven 

years old, and that she can't be doing these 

ridiculous tricks anymore. Lindsay hardly 

listened because she had heard it so many 

times. 

“…but, I'm going to let you off with a 

warning this time.“ 

“Wait. You're not going to punish me for 

painting your face with your make-up as a 

clown?” 

Mrs. Lyalot winced at the precision of 

what she was letting her daughter get away 

with. “Yes, Lindsay, you're not getting grounded 

for that.” 

“Um… thanks?” she replied unsurely. 

Her mother nodded as Lindsay stood up 

to leave the room. 

Ha! She thinks she's the only one who 

can play practical jokes? Well, then she's badly 

mistaken, because she'll know what it really 

feels like to be tricked. 

.......................................................... 

Three nights later, Lindsay woke up from 

loud barking. She tried to go back to sleep. Just 

as she put her head down on her pillow, she sat 

up in shock. 

“Oh God!” she gasped. 

She ran downstairs and ran out the back 

door. Out in the in the backyard, she was only 

in her pajamas and slippers. It was dark, and 

she hadn't thought of bringing a flashlight. 

Lindsay tripped over a small tree root that 

snaked above the ground. Groping around, she 

finally found the kennel that read "Sammy" in 

big red letters. 

"Sammy, boy?" she whispered. An 

unsettling breeze ruffled her hair, but he didn't 

answer, not even a whimper. 

"Sammy?" Lindsay was getting anxious 

and tried again, louder. Without any luck, she 

sprinted back into the house to find a 

flashlight. When she jogged back to the yard, 

she was breathing deeply. 

When she shone the light into the little 

kennel, she almost fell down with shock. 

Sammy was missing. 

"Mom!" Lindsay yelled as she ran up the 

stairs, flipping on all the light switches as she 

rushed down the halls. Getting impatient and 

panicky, she raised her voice, "MOM! Wake up!" 

Mrs. Lyalot immediately opened her eyes 

and practically ripped off her deep blue facial 

mask. "What is it, dear? What could possibly be 

wrong at this time of night?" 

"Sammy is missing!" 

"Oh, don't be silly, he's down in the 

yard," her mother replied, undisturbed. 

"No, he's not!" Lindsay was getting 

restless. Her dog was missing and her mother 

acted as if it didn't matter. "I just checked!" She 

35


Lindsay Lylalot 

Conitnued 

started pacing around the room while biting 

her metallic blue fingernails. 

The little girl watched as her mother 

sat up, leaning on the wooden headrest. As if 

finally understanding something, Mrs. Lyalot 

nodded and said, "Oh, I get it." She kept 

nodding. "I get it. This is just another one of 

your not funny jokes, isn't it? Unh-unh-unh," 

she said, shaking her finger at Lindsay. "Don't 

answer that. If this is what you think is 'a cry 

for attention'," she kept going, making air 

quotations, "you tried it on the wrong person, 

Missy, because I have had enough of this. 

Enough! You hear me?" Without waiting for an 

answer, she explained herself. "I am tired of 

listening to your made-up stories that you 

think don't hurt anyone, but indeed do. So you 

better go back to your room. I don't wanna 

hear a peep out of you until it's light out, got 

it?" 

"You don't believe me?" Lindsay asked, 

genuinely astonished. 

"Of course... not." 

"But,” she tried to protest that this 

time it wasn't a lie, but was shushed by her 

mother. 

"No but's, just go," she replied and 

pointed to the door. 

"I'm not lying!" she said loudly, and with 

that, she stomped out of the room and 

slammed the door harder than she had 

intended to. 

36


First Draft 

Alekasandar Mihok 

Chapter Two 

The morning light sang through the windows 

as my eyes creaked open. I hopped to my 

feet. Slowly I tiptoed over to my father's bed. 

Still asleep, he looked peaceful, in a look I 

had never seen him before. 

“Would you like some breakfast?” I 

asked in a caring voice. 

His eyes widened and a smile swept 

across his face. 

“Yes please,” he said exhaustedly 

Closing the door ever so softly I walked 

into the kitchen. Some bread and butter were 

still left out on the hardwood counter, and 

with that I, made the only thing I could, a 

sandwich. My knife dipped into the yellowish 

cream and spread it over the stale wry bread. 

I placed the “sandwich” if that's what you 

would call it, onto a small China plate and 

started carrying it to my father's room. As I 

strolled in with the sandwich in hand, I heard 

a loud crash of something on the floor. The 

plate slipped off my trembling fingers and 

broke into pieces when it hit the hardwood 

floor. I ran into the room and fell into shock. 

The room froze. Not a movement, not a 

sound. As the tears fell down my eyes, I shook 

him, but nothing. It all lay still. 

“Nooo! Why? Whhhhyyyyy?!?! You were 

the only one I had left!” the words splattered 

out of my mouth like stray ink on white 

parchment. They bounced off the ceiling and 

throughout the whole house. An echo filled 

the place that now wasn't. 

Tears still dropping out of my eyes, I 

got up and sprinted to Doc´s. 

“Why the long face me boy?” he 

wondered, but like a light bulb suddenly going 

on, he realized what was wrong. 

“How long has he been out? Have you 

done anything? Well have you?!?!” he 

screamed, but realizing that the tears were 

pouring down my blushed face. 

“Yes,” even with the tiny syllable I 

managed to get out, salty tears splashed into 

my mouth. 

“Let's go…we must take him to the 

undertaker,” he muttered yet again with a cold 

smile. 

37


Hit man 

Ro Tapia 

Chapter 2: 

I woke up slowly and lazily, wishing I wouldn't 

have to do the job I was to be paid to do. 

With the sunlight filtering through the blinds 

of my dank apartment, I trained, practiced, 

and rested until the entire day had wasted 

away. I had even researched my target. And 

then, I set off, at eleven at night. 

My target was Dr. Van Faulkner, the 

leading scientist of a serious black market 

weapons trade facility. I was to infiltrate, 

purge, and exit, all without tripping an alarm. 

I could also get a bonus if I brought back some 

data or schematics. I would get the 

schematics all right, I'm the best. But I might 

have a quick glance at it first though, but that 

won't hurt him, now will it? Especially if he 

doesn't find out, right? 

Chapter 2: 

The night's air was piercing. The 

shadows were complete. Just how I like them. 

As I crept into the warehouse, I thought about 

my mysterious employer. What was he playing 

at? But again I reminded myself that my only 

concern should be which gun to use. 

So on I crept. I decided that I should 

strike from the roof. On the roof waiting was 

a cheap guard. I've dealt with this type of 

guard before, and I can tell you, they are the 

shadiest and cheapest guard you can hire. 

I decided to find the scientist on my 

own rather than to risk “interrogating” the 

guard. So the guard went to bed, with a nice 

pat on the back. 

That was easy; I almost expected the 

jobs to increase in difficulty, as they had 

seemed to in the beginning. 

There just happened to be a window on 

that exact part of the roof, pretty lucky. Not 

chancing to be seen, I slipped a home-made 

wireless sound pad on to the window. It's 

about the size of a quarter, but embedded 

within it is a wireless signal and an amplified 

sound receiver. So what if I have a little too 

much time on my hands in between jobs, a 

new toy can never hurt… me. 

The headphones are the only device able 

to read the signal, encryption is way out of 

style, now I'm into double encryption. 

“You think he's here yet?” said a man as 

the headphones crackled to life. 

There was a chilling silence between the 

two men. Then, bearing it no longer, the first 

said, “I can't believe I took this job, you know 

we don't have much of a chance, us being 

simple lackeys and all. Do you really think the 

plan will work? What I mean is that we have all 

the top weapons, but we don't have skill. We 

are dead and you know it.” 

There was a disturbingly noisy silence, 

then the second whispered sharply, “You had 

better start trusting your betters, because 

there's usually a reason why they are 

considered your betters, and it's usually 

because they are more skilled than you. So 

have faith in them.” 

The first man, not expecting such a 

harsh reply, barely managed to spit out “you 

are right, I wasn't thinking.” 

Just who were they, who were they 

waiting for, and who were these betters? I 

doubted that it would change things much. But 

you can never help just wondering. 

I crept on towards the labs. With no 

more convenient windows to spy through, I 

would have to enter. Unseen and unheard. 

Chapter 3: 

I decided that entering through the solid 

roof was too noisy, so I rappelled down from 

the roof, and onto the snowy ground. The 

heavy snow soundproofed my steps toward the 

window. Before entering, I checked for guards, 

but there were none to speak of. 

The glass wasn't much of a problem with my 

glass cutter. Before I entered, I pulled out a 

silencer and attached it to my 45, and shot out 

a camera. And in I went. I crept along the 

corridor, and then at the door labeled 

“Laboratory” I stopped. Wondering about the 

security, I checked for any concealed cameras 

besides the earlier one. But what I did find was 

password input keyboard. Out of my bag, I 

produced a mini-laptop and a cable. I hooked 

the cable up to my laptop and to the keyboard. 

38


Hit man 

Continued 

I typed on my laptop, “hacker.exe” the screen 

went black for a moment, then whirred while 

showing numbers flittering past, until it came 

down to four numbers: 2794. 

I typed them into the password 

mechanism, the door slid open. Hidden behind 

the wall while the door opened, I shoved my 

tools back into my bag, and once more pulled 

my 45. I heard someone start, then regain 

themselves. They started to walk slowly and 

cautiously towards the door, their footsteps 

amplified by the silence. As soon as they 

started to come near, I realized that it must 

be a scientist, and I wasn't in much danger. I 

deduced this from the footsteps; I grinned to 

myself, he had given himself away: he was too 

hesitant and nervous. They didn't seem to be 

very heavy, and were unused to surprises. 

Here he comes. 

When he came through the door, he had 

two pistols, aimed to his left and right. Before 

the bullets flew, I uttered a single, yet 

effective phrase, “How…”, and then I started 

firing. But he had the advantage of surprise, 

and hit me in the stomach, five times, with 

his SMG (sub-machine gun). In a state of 

complete chaos, the two shots I had fired, hit 

their mark: his face. He then fell to the floor. 

I set down my pistol, then clutched franticly 

for my first aid kit. I bandaged myself, stowed 

my kit and pistol in my bag, and pulled out my 

final resort, a 12-gauge shotgun, strapped it 

to my back, and gripped two MAC 10's in my 

right and left hands. 

I didn’t feel too much pain from the 

bullets, for they had never entered my body 

due to my bullet-proof vest. I moved onward. 

I didn't quite know what had happened at the 

time, but I suspected that I had been 

betrayed, for there had been no way of 

knowing that I had entered, unless someone 

who knew it before it took place had warned 

them. I hadn't doubted this at all, for as a hit 

man, I had gained more than one enemy. 

But there just seemed to be something 

unnerving about it. I, nonetheless, decided to 

get the data/schematics, and then get out of 

there. As you should know, bullets can 

unnerve even the bravest of souls. 

Chapter 4: 

Ken… Ken… this is the name of my 

shadow self, covered in mystery, crime, and 

death. This is not the name of the simpleminded 

idealist that I once was. The name I 

was given at birth is a name overwritten by 

pain, sorrow and revenge. 

I shall not reveal to you the name of 

which I used to live by, before I became the 

merciless murderer for hire. Not yet. 

For now you must only know me as, Ken, 

the hit man. 

Chapter 5: 

I walked into the laboratory, holding my 

guns high. I saw nothing living, and set one of 

my guns down on a table. With a newly freed 

hand, I quickly skimmed through some papers 

on the tables. The most interesting paper I 

found was an old newspaper article; oddly 

enough it was on this very warehouse. It read: 

… Once a drug and weapons trade facility, no 

more. This building is currently owned by the 

police, and will be, until further events… 

Another, dating a few months later, read: 

… Nothing having happened, the government 

has decided to donate this building to the 

police force, it shall serve as a base… 

Everything was beginning to make sense. 

I had been sent on the previous missions so 

they could get an idea of my skills. And today 

was the day that they would catch me, or so 

they thought. 

The police had me set up. Now I would 

have to get them back, whether by merely 

surviving or by attacking, it wouldn't matter. 

I roughly searched the room for any sign 

at all of data schematics. I did find one item 

interesting enough for me to pocket: a laptop 

with the entire police database on it. Snatching 

my other MAC 10, I stepped into the hallway 

expecting gunfire. A summersault into the 

39


Hit man 

Continued 

room, then a quick glance in each direction 

was enough for me. I continued on. 

Not bothering to soundproof my steps, I 

stormed down the corridor. They knew I was 

here anyway. I was ready for the worst. 

Chapter 6: 

I couldn't leave the way I entered, 

because the so-called scientist, most likely set 

off an alarm alerting the police before 

meeting me. That, or it was simply the neardeafening 

gunshots. So I had to go through the 

main hall if I wanted to get out. 

I pressed my ear to the door at the end 

of the corridor, I heard plenty of guards. Not a 

good sign. I had better rush them, giving 

myself the element of surprise. 

I kicked down the door, and dove in, 

spraying the whole room with my MAC 10's 

many and powerful rounds. Being surrounded 

as I was, I was doomed to take more than a 

few blows. 

By the time I had hit the floor, I noted 

that about 10 of them had joined me. Roughly 

5 were left, I had to make it. So I leapt onto 

my feet, and dropped my MAC 10's, now out of 

ammo for that clip, and removed my 12 

gauge, diving and dodging bullets the whole 

time. When it was finally out, I gave them 

something to remember, if they survived, that 

is. Slowly they all fell, and so did my now, 

out-of-ammo shotgun. 

What would I use now, my silenced 45? 

No, that would never work for heavy fire. So I 

gathered all of the stray guns leftover with 

ammo from the fire-fight. I kept those few 

types of guns I didn't have with me at the 

time, and the guns I already had, I kept two 

of each and the rest I emptied the ammo into 

multiple clips. 

When I had finally finished the task, I 

filled my bag to the brim with guns and 

started at my wounds. Roughly 4 out of 15 

bullets hit my flesh; the rest had hit my now 

near-tattered vest. 

Then once done, I checked each and 

every guard for a pulse, only one still had 

one, but he was an unstable variable in this 

equation, so I put him out. 

I had to use something else if I was to 

survive another room like that. So with about 

10 leftover rounds I poured out the gunpowder, 

and decided to blow them all the way back to 

oblivion. 

40


Ding Dong the Witch is Dead 

Kina Sharani 

The streets were dark, the moon was bright, 

and every kid was in plain sight. Orange lights 

lit the path and toilet paper covered the 

roofs. It was that time of year again. The day 

most despised by parents and treasured by 

children. It was Halloween. 

Ding Dong. “Trick or treat” screamed 

the noisy children in unison with joy. 

“Here, I'm going to leave a bowl of 

candy on the porch, everybody only take one 

okay? It's called the honor system,” explained 

Sarah's mom, Judy, over the cheers of the 

kids. 

“Yeah, thanks lady, that always works!” 

said one of the older boys sarcastically. 

She closed the door and peeked through the 

window next to the door, just in time to 

watch the trick-or-treaters scamper away 

with five dollars worth of candy and Judy's 

favorite plastic bowl. Sighing she screamed 

for Sarah. 

Sarah was a twelve-year-old girl with 

dirty blonde hair. She had turquoise eyes and 

was pretty short with a petit figure. She had 

long eyelashes and thin feminine eyebrows. 

“Sarah, get down here! If you don't you won't 

have enough time to get to all the houses,” 

yelled Judy from the top of her lungs. 

Sarah dragged her feet, and she looked into 

her mothers gray eyes, “Mom! I look 

ridiculous!” 

“No don't say that, you look… cute,” 

replied her mother trying to stop herself from 

laughing. 

“Looking like a chicken isn't my idea of 

cute.” 

“Just go trick or treating.” 

Judy pushed Sarah in the direction of 

the door and she walked out. Just in time for 

Judy to start giggling. She kept on giggling all 

the way to the kitchen. 

As Sarah walked, she was the laughing 

stock, even on Halloween! She started to hide 

her face hoping no one would recognize her. 

When some boys from school started throwing 

toilet paper and eggs at her, she ran. She 

looked for a hiding place. That's when she saw 

it. An old abandoned house. She dashed 

inside. 

Once she was inside, she decided to 

roam around. On the walls were half burnt 

pictures, the walls were black and the floor 

was covered with a layer of dust. After about 

ten minutes, she found herself sliding a paper 

with her foot across the floor. It was a picture 

of a family with burnt sides. In the picture 

were a dad, a sister, a brother and a baby. 

Sarah noticed that one member of the family 

was crossed out and burnt. She figured that she 

must have done something horrible to them. 

That's when she heard the sound of footsteps; 

the sound broke the silence and Sarah 

thoughts. She turned around and screamed!!! 

41


My Brother Brother and I 


At night, during dinner, the room remained 

silent. Taylor and Mother only stared down at 

their plates and ate. 

“So, where did you two go today?” I tried to 

start a conversation. 

“I took your brother to see the doctor,” my 

mother answered. 

Taylor shifted his gaze from the plate to 

Mother. 

“To the doctor? Why?” I questioned confused. 

“Sophie. Just shut up, OK?” my brother asked. 

“No. I want to know,” I pleaded. 

“Sophie. Let's leave this conversation for 

another time. Now eat your food,” Mother 

ordered. 

I wasn't going to give up just yet. Why could 

he have gone to the doctor? He wasn't sick. 

What other reason could there possibly be? 

So I repeated, “Why did you go to the 

doctor?” 

“Soophiiee,” Taylor stretched my name out. 

“Sophia. Your brother has a serious sickness. 

It's called Multiple Sclerosis. Right now he is 

fine, but we will have to take care of him. As 

he turns ten, then eleven, and gets older, he 

will develop serious symptoms. We don't know 

which ones yet, but we will just have to fight 

them as they come along,” Mother's eyes were 

watery and rimmed with red. 

In shock, I faced my brother. His face was 

buried into his hands. 

“When did this happen? How?” I couldn't 

believe this. 

“We don't know. Taylor has already started to 

feel weak so I wanted to check up on him. 

That's when the doctor told us that there was 

a possibility that he had this sickness.” 

“Where you even planning on telling me this?” 

I was stunned. 

“I'm sorry, hunny. You are right. I just couldn't 

find a way to explain it.” 

To my left, I started to hear Taylor weeping. 

Mother got up from her seat and placed her 

hand on his back, trying to console him. He 

pushed away, though, and trotted up to his 

room immediately. 

Mother began to collect the dishes and rinse 

them. I remained seated, thoughtfully. 

I had heard of Multiple Sclerosis at school. 

When we had been studying health and 

sicknesses, the teacher had mentioned it once, 

but had not taken time to explain much about 

it. Still, I wanted to learn more. So I decided 

to go ask Taylor. I was sure he had to know 

something. 

Upstairs, he was lying on his bed, face down, 

sobbing. I sat beside him, placed my hand on 

his back like Mother had done and reassured 

him, 

“Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine.” 

“What do you know? Just go away.” 

Why didn't he let me talk to him? I was 

astonished. 

“Ugh. Fine. Be that way.” 

I marched out of the room, angrily, bringing my 

covers along. 

I wasn't going to sleep in the same room as his 

tonight. When I had treated him well, he just 

ignored me! 

So I moved to the storage room for the night. 

That day, was one of many that left an impact 

on my life. 

Another, was just a few months back. 

November 21st, 2005. I will never forget. 

Nearly at the age of twelve, only four days to 

go, I sat at my desk working on my homework. 

Taylor was napping, as he did every day during 

the afternoon. 

As I concentrated on my math problems, I was 

interrupted by an alarming phone call. 

42


Last Memories 


“Monica! I'm home!” I hollered to my mother 

as I slammed the wooden door behind me. My 

books and bag crashed onto the red entrance 

carpet as I dashed up the flights of stairs and 

collapsed onto my luxurious queen-size bed. 

“What a day!” I thought to myself. My 

eyes were drowsy from a long day of writing, 

listening, and no learning at all. 

“I hate school, I hate my life!” I 

repeated over and again. 

Snatching a pillow as pink as cotton candy, I 

pulled it over my eyes hoping I would never 

have to reveal light into my life again. My 

room door opened as my mother entered, 

interrupting my thoughts. 

“Here's your homework. Start it soon or 

you won't have time to finish it. I'm not 

sending one more note saying you were too 

busy.” 

I gloomily removed the pillow from my 

face and went to pick up my heavy books full 

of nonsense. I sat at my desk trying to fit my 

science textbook somewhere in between the 

mess and disorder. Opening it to page seventyfive, 

I started reading. None of the words or 

sentences made sense to my unfunctioning 

mind. Why did homework exist? Why did I 

need to learn the parts of an insect? It just 

simply didn't fulfill my life. 

I ripped out a paper from my notebook 

and in my neatest handwriting possible, I 

started it: 

September 21, 2009 

Mrs. Sakura: 

Today Jessica has had an 

extremely busy day of a doctor's appointment 

and 4 hours of homework. Please excuse her 

for not being able to complete today's 

homework assignment. 

Thanks a lot, 

Mrs. Monica Margi 

There we go! I proudly revised my work. It 

was finished! 

I joyfully strode downstairs as my famished 

body hunted that scrumptious scent that ran 

up the stairs from the kitchen. 

I entered, received my plate holding 

homemade waffles with dripping, sweet syrup, 

and jogged back to my room, for it was not 

forbidden to take food from the kitchen. 

Lying on my white, leather couch, I clicked the 

red ON button of my flat screen television and 

comfortably settled down. 

“Midget. Ya have a glue stick?” My 

brother burst into my bedroom wearing his 

baggy, brown pants and his white T-shirt 

decorated by his last meal, that I presumed was 

based on pasta and red sauce. 

Once I had located the glue, I tossed it 

to Matthew. I marched towards the entrance of 

my room and shut the door hoping it would stay 

that way for the rest of the afternoon. 

I slumped onto my chair and lightly smacked 

the mouse. Nothing interesting was showing on 

television so I was turning to my computer. I 

skimmed through the “online” list and opened 

a conversation window with Stephanie: 

Lil.pink.lady: Hey best friend! Wazzup? 

Cute.gal: Hey Jess! Sitting around 

watchin' TV. U? 

Lil.pink.lady: Pretty much the same 

thing. Guess what? 

Cute.gal: Shoot. 

Lil.pink.lady: Got away with doing 

homework! 

Cute.gal: Awesome! Another forgery? 

Lil.pink.lady: Yup! Totally works! And 

getting better at it! 

Cute.gal: Cool. But I can't do that. I'm 

going to go finish my math homework. Cya. 

43


Boarding Girls 

Tamsin Gordon 

Chapter 1 

“You’re here,” announced the taxi 

driver turning in his seat to face Elizabeth. 

“Um,” she stuttered glancing timidly out the 

window, “how...how much?” she asked. She 

was gazing down at her soft, pink purse, a 

parting gift from her mother, containing the 

money she would need for the term. Oh how 

much I miss my family she thought bitterly. 

“Three pounds eighty-five,” replied the taxi 

driver interrupting her thoughts. She handed 

over the money and forced herself to climb 

out of the taxi, struggling with her assortment 

of different sized bags. 

Once out, she immediately froze. Gapping, 

Elizabeth looked up at the immense brick 

walls of her soon to be boarding school. 

Towering up above her it seemed like it would 

topple over and crush her little body. This 

wasn’ t anything like the friendly school her 

father had described. Her bottom lip trembled 

as she gazed at the rows and rows of dull 

windows. Quickly, she turned her head away 

in hope that the cab would still be there and 

she could flee back home where she wanted 

to be. However, as she secretly knew the cab 

was not there, she’d have to stay. 

She had to be brave; her parents loved her 

that’s why they were sending her here. They 

wanted her to have a good education, a 

better future than what they where able to 

acquire for themselves. Sighing deeply she 

started up the broad stairs to the massive, 

open, wooden doors being flooded by kids. I 

can do this, Elizabeth told herself, I have to. 

....... ......... ......... ........... ........ ..... 

Alexa woke to loud coughing. She yawned and 

stretched out lazily. “Yeah?” she asked the 

source of the coughing. 

“You’re here, Baywalk Road, number two 

eight, six hundred right out there. That will 

be seven pounds,” replied the taxi driver 

clearly irritated and in a hurry. 

“Okay” she shrugged looking around for her 

wallet. Hmm that’s strange, she thought 

scratching her head, it was right here a minute 

ago. After lifting a bag of chips, a few bags 

and a sweater she still hadn’t found it. The 

driver tapped his foot impatiently. Alexa turned 

to him suddenly and glared straight into his 

eyes, “Ya know ya’ll could gime a hand instead 

of sulking like some lil baby” she told him in a 

strong American accent. Then she got back to 

work looking under the seat. The man looked 

utterly shocked and blinked a couple of times 

not quite sure what to do. He shuffled around 

in his seat for a while uneasily. “Found it” she 

announced glumly after a few more seconds to 

the relief of the taxi driver. 

She handed him some notes and opened the 

door, scrambled out and said, “Well thank YOU 

mister for making this such a pleasant ride” 

sarcastically before she closed the door. She 

walked a little ways away from the cab then 

turned around her pale cheeks slightly pink. 

She opened the door again and rolled her eyes 

at the now amused taxi driver. She picked up 

her suitcase and backpack that she’d forgotten 

and shut the door again less triumphantly than 

last time. The diver chuckled and drove away 

leaving her standing on the pavement. She 

shrugged off her little mishap as she did most 

things. Then headed up the stairs, past the 

green sign reading: Girls Boarding School of 

London and into the building without so much 

as looking around. 

....... ......... ......... ........... ........ ...... 

“Oh! Querida we are so proud of you,” said 

Manuela’s mum rolling her R’s in her heavy 

Spanish accent. She extended her arms and 

gave her daughter a teary smile. Manuela 

hugged her mum stiffly; half of her wanted to 

cling to her mum and never let go. However, 

the stronger half was embarrassed that her 

mum was making such a big deal about this all 

right in front of her new school. What if other 

kids thought she was a little baby? How was she 

ever going to make friends if people said that? 

She tried to ignore this thought as she savoured 

the last minutes with her parents until half 

term. Her dad gave her a quick hug and a 

peck on the cheek, his moustache tickling her, 

44


Boarding Girls 

Continued 

as if he knew what she had been thinking. 

“We will miss you.” he said affectionately. 

“Manu?” came a gentle voice as a tiny hand 

tugged her jeans “why you go?” asked her 

little brother his large brown eyes staring 

sadly into hers. 

“Oh, Pablito it isn’t for ever, I will see you in 

just a little while, don’t you worry!” she told 

him bending down to wrap him in a bear hug 

“take care of mama and papa okay?” she 

asked. 

“Yes!” Pablo answered importantly holding his 

mums hand. 

“Well bye!” said Manuela bravely “I will 

write.” She started slowly walking up the 

stairs weighed down by her luggage. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come in 

with you and help you settle in?” asked her 

mum hopefully. 

“No,” said Manuela smiling back at her family 

“I’ll be fine.” She then gave one last wave 

and slipped through the door. 

....... ......... ......... ........... ........ ...... 

The limousine stopped outside the school, and 

a ripple of whispers flew through the crowd of 

kids waiting outside the boarding school. A tall 

man sporting a black suit appeared out of the 

passenger seat. He looked around suspiciously, 

“Ma’am,” he said opening the door and 

bowing slightly. Out came a slender girl of 

about fifteen. Hannah flipped her blond locks 

so that her perfectly made-up face was 

framed with curls. 

“It’s about time José,” she said in a smooth, 

but posh English accent. Without another 

word she left him to worry about her 

possessions. Like a model on a catwalk she 

strolled up the steps. Her Gucci bag was 

swung carelessly yet fashionably over her 

right shoulder; its black and pink colour 

matched flawlessly with her designer shirt and 

mini skirt. As she walked she seemed to know 

everyone was looking at her, yet she seemed 

to like it that way. One girl even ventured to 

talk to her. 

“Hey, I’m Emma what is your name?” she said 

smiling broadly, “you can be my new friend!” 

she added enthusiastically. Hannah barley even 

slowed down she just glanced in the girl’s 

direction and raised her eye brows as if to say, 

“yeah right”. Once at the top of the stairway 

she waited in the middle of the doorway 

tapping her foot, and examining her long 

polished nails. She was waiting for poor José, 

her personal butler, as he struggled with her 

excessive amount of Louie Vuitton duffle bags. 

Finally he arrived by her side and she gave him 

a what-took-you-so-long look and walked in the 

building. He sighed as if used to this kind of 

behaviour and followed her in. 

45


Hyattsville 

Amory Brandon 

June 16, 2005 

…And they put the last of our bags 

into the giant case on the truck. We 

gave one last good bye to our house 

and then we got into our car and 

drove to Hyattsville. Our new home. 

We were never going to see our small 

brick house again. My parents did 

promise that our new house was a 

big Victorian, the biggest house and 

yard in the neighborhood. They also 

promised that it was completely safe 

and that they were lots of kids our 

age. But do I want lots of kids? Or 

would I rather live in a quieter town 

that wasn't so busy? Oh well, we'll 

find out soon enough. 

-Jenny 

Alexander Harrison put down journal and 

walked back into his bedroom. They had been 

living in the old yet enormous Victorian for 

only 6 days. Alex sat down on the carpet 

covering the wood floor. His bare room held 

only a mattress in a corner and a small light 

next to his pillow. Harry Potter was lying 

across his pillow with its spine pointing 

towards the sky. On the wall by his head was a 

blank calendar with only one date, July 7th, 

his birthday. 

“Oh, I can't wait until our stuff arrives. 

I miss my old room, why did we have to 

move?” Alex pondered. 

“Alex! Come down for breakfast. I 

made some scrambled eggs and bacon, one of 

your favorites.” 

The thirteen-year-old exited his room 

and turned left down the hall and looped back 

around towards the stairs. He jumped down 

the stairs and turned back towards the 

kitchen. Light was beginning to enter through 

the dining room and the family rooms on 

either side of him. The old holly sixty-foot 

holly tree swayed gently in the light breeze, 

its red berries glistening in the early light. 

“I'm here Mom,” he replied. 

“Good. I was waiting for you. Your father 

and Jenny decided to sleep in a bit today. 

Jenny didn't feel very good last night and she 

kept your father up for an hour. Here take some 

eggs,” she plopped a spoonful of eggs and two 

crispy pieces of bacon onto his plate, “So, do 

you like this house or do you miss our house?” 

Alex shrugged. “It's not all that different 

to me. Yet. I like this house a lot, its really big, 

it has a great playroom on the third floor and I 

have a big room of my own. But of course I miss 

the old house; I've lived there for the past 

thirteen years, my whole life! I just don't think 

I'm ready to move yet… it doesn't feel right… 

well, at least not yet.” 

“I understand. But you have to let go. 

The longer you try to keep it the more painful 

it will soon become. I moved once when I was 

your age. It was one of the hardest things I 

have ever done. I got over it just fine at the 

end, and so can you. You have to trust me on 

this one. It may feel hard but in the end you 

will understand how important it is to learn 

how to change and accept change. It will help 

you a lot when you are older and are going 

through some rough times.” 

“Ok Mom. I am going to go back upstairs. 

Is it ok if I go to the park later?” 

“Sure. But make sure you don't get in 

any trouble and take dad's cell with you. Come 

back down and I'll give you some money just in 

case. Remember; call me if anything happens. 

The house number is 301-927-5768. You're going 

to need to remember that, Alex. The number 

should already be programmed in the phone in 

case you forget.” 

“ I'll only go for about an hour. Just to 

kick the soccer ball around. I'll set up the goal 

when the stuff comes.” 

“Ok then. By the way, our address is 

4110 Gallatin Street. You're going to need to 

remember that too. In any case I want you 

home by seven for dinner. Do you hear me?” 

“Yes mom…” 

“Good, then I will see you later.” 

Alex climbed back into his bedroom and 

lay on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Two 

46


Hyattsville 

Continued 

muffled and padded feet echoed down the 

long hallway and entered Alex's square 

bedroom. A giant black dog leaned over and 

started licking Alex's face with its long red 

tongue. 

“Hey Seuss. How do you like it here? 

The yard is huge which you probably love.” 

Seuss lay down beside me and rested 

his black, afro-like head on the edge of my 

mattress. His black hair got knotted in my 

fingers as I rubbed his stomach for him. 

“Yup. Mom and Dad seem to love it 

here, so I think that we are gonna be here for 

awhile. Yeah, the yard is pretty cool, 

definitely the biggest I've been in. We can do 

whatever we want in there with friends. 

Soccer, basketball, football, anything. This is 

definitely a cooler house. I just hope the kids 

are nice.” 

Alex shrugged his shoulders and sat up. 

He changed into a clean pair of black shorts 

and pulled on a blue Nike shirt. He flung the 

wad of clothing into the heap in the corner, 

picked up his soccer ball, and walked 

downstairs. The large, wooden front door 

swung open to reveal bright light and a line of 

pine trees on a quiet street. 

“Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!” 

A consistent bounce of a basketball 

echoed from across the street and from a 

paved driveway off to the left. Alex walked 

across the street to see a pretty girl about his 

age shooting free throws with a red Maryland 

Terrapins ball. 

“Hey, are you the new kid who lives in the tan 

house across the street?” 

“Yeah. My name's Alex.” 

“Meagan. But call me Meg for short. I live in 

the gray house, three houses down that way.” 

“Do you play basketball a lot?” Alex inquired. 

“Yeah. I'm captain of our HMB team.” 

“HMB?” 

“Yeah. It's the sports club that plays at 

Magruader Park. Hyattsville, Mount Rainer, 

Brentwood. Do you play?” 

“I did back at my old school. I'm pretty good,” 

he said casually. 

He decided to not tell her that in fact he was 

the captain of his ex-team which was ranked 

fourth in all of county. When he was twelve he 

was co-captain and his team fell short of the 

title when they lost to the number two team in 

the quarterfinals. The following year his team 

lost in the semifinals during an overtime loss to 

the number three team. 

“Well let's find out how good you really are. 

One-on-one. You start,” Meg said with a hint of 

a smile in her eye. 

Alex checked his surroundings. The court 

had a free throw line and a three point line laid 

out with tape and he assumed that the out of 

bounds mark was one side of a shed and the 

grass to his left was the other side. 

Meg passed the ball to Alex who 

immediately faked to his right, dropped low 

and cut left. He pushed off the ground leaning 

away from the basket. The ball leapt from his 

fingers, soared through the air, rattled off the 

back of rusty rim and dropped through the net. 

“Pretty good. My turn,” she said as she took the 

ball from him and started a slow dribble. 

Meg faked to the right then crossed the 

ball to her left hand. She spun back around to 

her right and put up a soft finger roll lay-up. 

“Nice. But now it's my turn,” Alex said 

with a slight wink and flash in his eye. 

Meg checked the ball to him and he put 

up a fast shot from just outside the three point 

arc. The ball dropped through the net with an 

unmistakable swish. 

“Three to one. I'm up,” Alex said with a 

smile. 

The 5'5 blonde threw up a shot of her 

own, which rebounded off the backboard and 

in. She then walked over and picked up the 

rolling ball from underneath the basket. 

“3-all. But let's quit. I'm tired and we're 

about even. Why don't you come to my house 

and grab a drink. I'll take you around and 

introduce you to people. What do you say?” 

Meg asked, brushing a bead of sweat off her 

forehead. 

“Why not,” Alex said casually. 

“Let's go back to my place and pick up a Coke 

or a Gatorade. My house is two houses down 

and across the street from yours. Reed lives 

47


Hyattsville 

Continued 

across from you and Tommy lives on the next 

street. Chris lives a couple blocks down there. 

But you should also meet Jamie. He lives up 

the hill four blocks. Then, of the girls you 

should meet Christie, Allison, Caroline, Mia 

and Stephie. They all live around here. But 

enough talk, lets go.” 

The mid-day sun glistened through the trees 

as Meg and Alex walked down the sunny 

avenue. Meg pointed out her blue and gray 

house along just a ways down the empty 

street. 

“Wow. I've only been here a few days and I'm 

already met a gorgeous girl and I'm about to 

meet everyone else who lives around here,” 

Alex thought happily to himself. 

“Up here,” Meg said as she walked up a set of 

stone stairs and onto the gray porch, “I'll 

introduce you to my mom. My dad's at work. 

My family owns a restaurant and general store 

about three blocks down. On Route 1.” 

“Awesome. My parents both work on 

environmental issues. My dad is mainly with 

poverty and my mom works on topics like 

saving rainforests. They both travel a lot, so 

they usually aren't home for more then a 

month and a half at a time.” 

“That sucks,” Meg said. 

“Nah, it's not that bad. I've gotten used to it.” 

Meg opened the front door and led him into 

the TV room. Alex's Nike's sunk into the plush 

blue rug. Meg led him down a wooden hallway 

and into the kitchen. 

“What do you want to drink? We're out of 

Coke, but we have Gatorade and Fanta. We 

also have water, apple juice, orange juice and 

milk,” Meg said while she opened up the 

refrigerator. 

“Umm. What flavors of Gatorade do you 

have?” 

“Let's see. We have lemon-lime, the blue 

kind, and grape. Which one do you want?” 

“I'll take lemon-lime then. So… Is your room 

upstairs then?” Alex asked as he picked up the 

bottle. 

“Haha. Gatorade really is a “Thirst 

Quencher,” Alex thought to himself as the cool 

liquid slid down his throat. 

“Yeah. I'll show you. Come.” 

Meg led Alex up an oak staircase and turned 

left down a blue hallway. Meg opened up a 

white door and gestured for him to enter. Alex 

stepped onto a blue rug and looked around. 

The room had a bed in the far right corner, with 

a Blink 182 poster staring down on it, and there 

was a closet opposite to it. A large dresser was 

on his left with signed autographs, baseballs 

and photos. Just beyond the dresser was a Sony 

TV with a PlayStation 2 hooked up to it. A DVD 

player was sitting on top of the TV and the 

three Star Wars movies strewn across the 

ground lying open. A white rocking chair was in 

the left corner of the room and posters were 

plastered all over the blue walls. 

48


Unknown Legend Legend 

Rebecca Rebecca Hewitt 

Chapter 3 

Life After 

In the morning, the sun sneaked 

through the overlapped tree tops. Mariane 

and Xena woke slowly, taking their time, until 

they heard distant hoof beats. They saw 

them, an army of avenging rivals. In front, a 

dark silhouette of fear, a black stallion, with 

burning red eyes, and who else to ride him 

but Salamand. Thunder and storms of storms 

of fuming horses approached in a malicious 

way. Mariane bounded over Xena's back and 

charged into a full-speed gallop. The soldiers 

were catching up, and quickly. We're not 

going to make it…Mariane thought, grinding 

her teeth in defeat, again. 

In next to no time, Xena grew a pair of 

heavenly wings which lifted them high in the 

bright sky, but the danger wasn't over yet. 

“You will never escape, Mariane! 

Remember your parents? You will suffer the 

same fate!” the wicked wizard bellowed. 

It was true. Mariane's parents had died 

on Salamand's hand. He had murdered them. 

“As much as I hate you for what you 

have done, your tricky words will only be an 

idiot's murmur to me.” She snapped back, 

glaring down at him. 

Salamand signaled the archers to commence 

the attack. Swiftly, Xena dodged them 

dexterously, some falling to the ground and 

some flying back at the archers. Salamand 

retreated, with the knowledge that only he 

could fight Mariane. He did not want to risk 

his worthless, but necessary men for the 

conquest of the magical world. 

After the useless battle, the duo flew 

far away, before descending slowly in a secure 

place. On the ground, they spotted a town. 

The town was in the middle of a very 

important ceremony, the washout. A washout 

ceremony is when women are forced to pass 

through holy tests to see if they are witches 

or not. Many die, a witch or not, during these 

tests. Mariane was a witch. 

Chapter 4 

Another Worry 

Many things were a danger to Mariane, but the 

washout ceremony was a tough bread to bite. 

Once you were noticed, you could either die by 

a punishment or during the test. Death was the 

last thing anyone wanted. The city was a wall 

city; it covered several miles, and was difficult 

to go around. The only way was through it. 

Xena nickered softly. 

“Well… Xena, there isn't much of a choice you 

know. We'll have to take the risk.” 

Xena snorted a tired grunt. She hated when 

there wasn't much to do. They walked into the 

city, the wall towered over them. Lowering her 

head, Xena wished she was never there. Two 

little children stomped right in front of her 

face, making her look up and stare at them in a 

perplexed way. 

“Pony ride!” the children shrieked. 

Yeah right! She thought. No annoying kid was 

going on her saddle! A passing stallion smirked 

at the scene. What a disgrace, they called her 

a pony! This was a horrible day. 

Finally, they found the main plaza. It was 

beside an ever-running river, in which they 

threw the women. When Xena saw this, she 

reflected that it was the most unnatural and 

barbaric act she had ever seen, even though 

she had never watched a human ritual before. 

“Don't worry Xena,” Mariane confirmed, 

“They will do nothing to you.” 

Xena gazed at her in disbelief. Of course 

they would do something to her! It could be by 

her looks or because she was with Mariane. 

Many people tried to kill her in several 

occasions! She was the main attraction in any 

place where there was a crowd. Mariane pulled 

on her chocolate colored cloak and went to the 

back of the multitude. They tip-toed as nearby 

to the plaza wall as possible, not wanting to be 

seen. But, to their up-most, unwanted wish, a 

person spun around… and saw them. 

49


Unknown Legend 

Continued 

Chapter 5 

The Washout 

“There's a lady over here! Hey!” he 

shouted. 

“Run,” pronounced Mariane. 

Oh boy, Xena thought, and neighed in 

fright. Hurdling onto the saddle once more, 

Mariane thrust Xena into a rapid gallop. They 

ran and leaped over everything that was in 

their way. Then it was in front of them, the 

wall. 

“The only way would be through it…” 

Mariane whispered. 

No way am I jumping over that thing! 

What do you want? To kill me?! Xena gave her 

an irritated look. 

“No, I don't want to kill you. Calm 

down,” Mariane said. 

No I will not calm down. Not this time, 

you've gotten us into too much trouble with 

your ridiculous risks. Xena objected. This 

time, we'll follow MY rules for a change. She 

turned to the crowd, with Mariane still on, 

and rushed into it. Like natural instinct, the 

crowd turned on their heels and darted for 

their lives. Never had Xena been so pleased. 

They looked like a little school of sardines 

hastily swimming to save themselves. 

The colossal gate stood before them, 

half closed. She galloped right up it, and 

jumped to the other side, outside, where 

there was no danger. As soon as Xena touched 

the ground, she raced to the edge of the city, 

went around it. Finally they could rest. 

Told you my way was better! Xena 

looked down at the weary Mariane. 

“I have to admit, that was better than 

what I had planned.” she smiled. 

Xena showed a face of satisfaction, the girl 

giggled and gazed up at the horse she always 

knew. Mariane got up and walked side by side 

with her best friend, one she could never 

replace. 

Chapter 6 

The Trip Begins 

The wall city sank away into the horizon 

behind them, gradually eaten by the hills in 

front. The sunset was in their faces, the breeze 

was calm. Many times Mariane thought if she 

would have another moment of peace like this 

one. A blue line traced under the golden sun 

setting. A whinny of delight came from Xena. 

Water! Both thought. Running directly into it, 

the cool, fresh water surrounded them. They 

played and splashed without a care, only when 

the sun had dropped from the sky did they 

drink. The water was an unknown taste to them 

for they hadn't had anything to imbibe for a 

long time. Mariane filled many burlap bottles 

with water for the extensive trip into the 

Nairobian Desert. So they started out, believing 

that the trip would be easy, nothing to worry 

about, only their health. The danger was yet to 

come. A pair of devilish red eyes peered 

through the sands of time, with many others. 

These strange creatures would be their fate in 

this trip, and the last thing the duo will see for 

the rest of their lives. For this creature would 

be their doom. All was unknown… 

50


School Terror 

Matthew Raporte 

It was the first day of school and the new redhead 

teacher bounced energetically around 

the room, ignoring the moans of her students. 

The second bell had long since rung, 

cheerfully singing out the beginning of class. 

The teacher seemed to be waiting anxiously 

for something else before starting the class. 

Uncaring, the students around her were 

chattering about their vacations. 

Suddenly the cheap wooden door flew 

open with a bang and two boys stepped in. 

One was short, with a mass of carrot-orange 

hair and one taller, with long dirty blonde 

hair, which hung limply above his unwashed 

neck. 

“Sorry-it's-that-we-overslept”the 

hurried excuse was out of the tall kids' mouth 

as soon as the door opened. The other one 

glanced at the teacher, then at the students, 

but then peered back at the teacher. 

'Mom! What are y…” He finished his sentence 

quietly, after some puzzled glances from his 

friends. “What are you doing here?” he 

whispered fiercely. The teacher gave him a 

crooked smile. She glided to the front of the 

class room. Under her near see-through 

electric green skirt her pudgy legs moved with 

incredible speed. 

Once she stood in the front of the students, 

and captured their attention. She cleared her 

throat, and then she started. 

“My name is Mrs. Onesome” She started 

confidently, gazing around to see if anyone 

refused to believe her name to be “Mrs. 

Onesome” No one did, but a couple of 

snickers echoed across the room. The two 

friends slumped in their seats gazing 

desperately at Mrs. Onesome, hoping that this 

was just a joke. 

“AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHH” the 

redhead shouted… or at least that's what he 

had meant to do, instead he moaned and 

clutched his head. He kept this dramatic pose 

for thirty seconds or so, everyone noticed, 

that is except his mum. He raised his hand, 

waved it around a little and finally in his best 

“pity me, I'm a child” voice called. 

“Mooooooooooooom” He trailed off. 

When finally it was impossible to ignore him, 

she turned and walked over to his desk. In two 

huge steps she was across the room, looming up 

in front of him. 

"Yes, Mikey-Moooo?" she stretched out 

the “oo” of Mike's hated nickname. 

“Um… mum?” he tried his best shaky 

voice act. Hmmm not bad… “Can I go to the 

nurse, my head really hurts and I think I'm 

gonna vomit.” 

“It'll be okay baby…” she cooed, almost 

suffocating him in her purple sweater. Giving 

him a little push towards the door she 

whispered “Now hurry along, be back in ten 

minutes, you don't want to miss long division” 

"Ooooooooooookay" he walked out the 

door, leaving it open. Mrs. Onesome turned her 

back so Rick caught Mike winking at him. 

As soon as Mike was out he strode to the 

bathroom where he leaned back against the 

wall, (he amused himself by throwing wet 

paper towels at the walls,) and thought... It 

was his worst dream, even worse then that, it 

was like a sick April Fools joke... No, he just 

couldn't accept his mum being a teacher. He 

would have to do something about it. Hmmm 

maybe Rick would help him. Mike swung the 

creaky door open and walked in a zigzag back 

towards the classroom; he heard taunting 

laughter behind the door. As he walked in and 

fell into his chair he looked up towards his 

mum. She was looking very puzzled, talking to 

a boy with short spiky hair, who kept shaking 

his head. Mike remembered this kid, he was a 

troublemaker, him and his twin where always 

stumbling into trouble... his twin ... now where 

was he? Mike scanned the room, but to no 

avail, Bob's identical spiky hair couldn't be 

found. Giving up he focused on his mum and 

Bill. 

"So you're......... Bob?" she asked, clearly 

disapproving of the idea of having two twins in 

the same class. 

"No, you must have gotten it down 

wrong, I'm Billy" 

"And your brother, is he sick, that's such 

a shame...missing the first day of....poor 

thing” 

51


School Terror 

Continued 

"No, No, No" he cut her off. “Now... my 

name is Billy-Bob Smith, you have me down as 

two brothers, I'm one person..." He glanced 

back at his classmates; there was a murmur of 

agreement. Mike was fighting a losing battle 

not to snicker, so where several other people 

(including a gang of giggling girls.) Mrs. 

Onesome at once snapped to attention, she 

peered through her pink glasses, managing to 

look hilariously like an old owl. Mike and Rick 

joined the class-choir-groan, when Mrs. 

Onesome perked up all at once and happily 

continued writing long division problems on 

the board. At once the groan changed into 

giggles, as soon as the class found out that 

Bill, or rather Billy-Bob, had switched the 

board marker for a permanent sharpie of the 

same color. Mrs. Onesome, however did not 

notice… She was too busy unsticking the pages 

of her math textbook (was it possible some 

unknown ruffian had stuck them together with 

superglue?). As Mike yawned, he felt sure, 

that through the window, accompanied by the 

usual cheap plastic play-things he saw the 

grinning face of “poor, sick Bob”, disappearing 

behind a tree. 

The rest of the day passed in a daze for 

Mike all the practical jokes he knew (and 

some even he didn't) were tried out on his 

mom. Everyone was enjoying, yes, enjoying 

school. Kids walked around the hallways 

laughing gleefully at this new chance to try 

out their pranks. This new teacher was a real 

riot, wasn't she? Mike thought angrily. NO! He 

wanted to shout, it's not funny! He slurped his 

chocolate milk and tried to block out the 

sound laughter, a regular first-day-of-school 

food fight was raging. Food splattered 

everyone, and everything. Mashed potatoes 

were dripping off walls like ghostly gunk 

straight out of a pathetic horror movie. 

“Mike… Earth to Mike” Rick drummed the 

table to get his friends attention “I said… 

EARTH TO MIIIIIIIIKE! MIKE… ANSWER MIKE!” 

Rick cupped his hands together and bellowed 

into Mike's ear. 

“Whaaa?” Mike looked around dazed. If a five 

thousand year old caveman dressed in a 

rubber Spider Man suit had just jumped out of 

nowhere and danced “La Cucaracha” in front of 

him… he would be wearing the same look. The 

one that said “What the heck did I miss out on” 

in big red letters over his forehead. 

“Nothing… But dude, should we maybe 

like…” he paused for comic effect before 

continuing “…stop your mum” 

And that's how Mike and Rick started 

plotting. 

52


Silent Scope 

Eric Eric Van Volkinburg 

CHAPTER 1 

February 2, 1942 

The Plane roared through the sky. Charlie 

White shuffled in line and flung himself out. 

His parachute expanded immediately and he 

fell slowly down to the ground. 

As he flew down to Earth he thought about 

his mom and the dreadful phone call the 

month before. During that conversation he 

told her that he had been drafted. She had 

been heartbroken; he found out that not only 

an hour before his younger brother, James, 

had told her the same news. The White 

brothers were going to World War Two. 

His dad had been killed in World War One the 

day he was born. One great life for another 

his mom always said. Though as often as she 

said that, she also told him to watch over his 

little brother. 

His legs then collided with the ground and 

he cut his Parachute off with his new Ka-Bar. 

He quickly stood up and raced over to the 

targets. 

He used his Thompson M1 to tatter the 

already shredded targets even more. When all 

five targets fell, he took the longer, more 

scenic walk through the forest instead of 

trudging through the busy heart of Fort 

Benson. After about 20 minutes he was in the 

empty Locker room striping himself of his 

gear. As he took off his last grenade, James 

strolled in, his Browning on his shoulder. 

“How you get done before me?” He 

questioned. 

James was one of the few men who were 

already assigned to the gun they would use in 

Europe. His happened to be the Browning .50inch, 

a very powerful heavy machine gun. He 

could hose down the targets extraordinarily 

fast. 

Charlie was hoping to be sniper. He had 

practiced on deer in the forest with his dad's 

old hunting rifle. It had a small scope on it 

and he could shoot a target two-hundred 

yards away ninety percent of the time. But if 

he became a sniper he would be assigned a 

Springfield rifle with an M84 scope, then he 

would be able to shoot a bird from fourhundred 

yards all the time. 

“Gun lists are up,” informed James 

distracting Charlie imagining about his dream 

gun. 

“Thanks see you later!” Charlie fired out the 

room. 

“Good Luck!” James called after him. 

CHAPTER 2 


Charlie shoved his way through sweaty men 

fresh off training. The mix of cheers and cusses 

created a steady beat. 

When he arrived to the head of the crowd he 

scanned for his name carefully. Regular list, no 

name. Heavy machine-gun list, no name. 

He held his breath as he scanned the sniper 

list, only three names: 

Sniper 

Dean Blackwood 

Mack Dinger 

Charlie White 

Charlie raced to his three person cot in the 

barracks, which he shared with James and his 

best friend, Leon Campbell. 

When he reached the door of the small 

storage room they used as a cot, he burst in to 

tell them the great news, he heard them 

cracking up. When they noticed him they 

settled down and stared away. 

“Were you talking about me?” 

questioned Charlie. 

“Only the way your hair blows back in 

the breeze showing us your dreamy eyes,” 

joked Leon. 

“I'm older than you, so watch out!” 

threatened Charlie. “What weapon you get?” 

“Bazooka!” 

“So you both are going to England, eh?” 

“Fort T. James heavy weapons school. 

Rippom, Yorkshire,” Reported James, specifying 

the American and British base/Airfield. 

“Just talked to General Gamming, two 

snipers are also going there; Mack Dinger is 

53


Silent Scope 

Continued 

going to Japan.” Charlie exclaimed. 

“You remember Brant Scarborough, 

British, long brown hair, blue eyes, male?” 

interrogated James. 

“That guy who kept hitting me with 

that screwed up baseball bat? I was about to 

strangle him, the little *******!” Charlie swore. 

“Yeah. By the way, that 'screwed up baseball 

bat' is a Cricket bat and we are gonna play a 

ton of Cricket in Britain!” snapped James 

back. 

“One small question, who cares about 

the fricken *******?” 

“He's a British pilot, joined the RAF when he 

moved back to 'wealthy' Britain during the 

'Depression'. He's going to Rippom with us!” 

“Dammit! Thought I'd never see him again!” 

As Charlie swore some more, Second 

Lieutenant Dane pulled the the door open. 

“Dinner at the Mess Hall, SIR!” reported 

Dane. 

“Save it for the General, Dan!” Charlie 

said as he tossed his dirty pair of socks at him. 

“I mean, you are only one ranking below me 

and one higher then these maggots.” 

“Sir, yes, Sir!” 

“SHUT UP!” screamed Charlie. 

“Dan Dane, what were your parents 

thinking when they named you that. I 

wonder?” Leon broke them up sarcastically. 

“That's Second Lieutenant Dan Dane to 

you MAGGOT!” 

“Shut up all of you and let's go to 

dinner!” interrupted James. 

“Is there something wrong James, do 

we need to talk about it?” joked Leon. 

“SHUT UP!” 

CHAPTER 3 


“I stayed up all night on the john, damn 

beans and rice!” Leon whispered angrily at the 

crack of dawn. 

“Ha ha, loser! Good thing I had the 

Chicken,” laughed Charlie. 

“Turn off the dumb light, dammit!” 

moaned James. 

“WAKE UP!” burst in Major Dean 

Blackwood. “Get to the airfield by 10:00 A.M. 

sharp! We're going to England!” 

54


Maybe it Wasn't Worth Worth It 


“Thank you, Mr. H. I really appreciate you 

letting me write an article on your school and 

the students.” 

“No problem, Poeby. I really believe we 

should encourage independent writing. I'll 

have my secretary Mrs. Freez, show you 

around the school,” balding principal Harold 

told me. 

As I reentered the lobby to talk to the 

secretary, I stopped and watched the crystal 

petals of snow that bobbed down through the 

air. I remembered when I lived back in New 

York, sitting in front of a crackling fire with a 

mug of cocoa in hand and feeling the unheard 

presence of silent snow falling. 

“Poeby…Poeby,” the secretary repeated 

crisply until she found some papers that 

needed the signature of Mr. H. 

“Yes, Mrs.”, I searched for some official 

sign that would say her name, “Mrs. Freez.” 

The secretary was a stubby woman in her 

forties. Her once blond hair was shot with 

grey streaks. 

“Poeby, this is Annabel, she will show 

you around the school today.” I stuck my hand 

out to be polite, as my many guardians had 

taught me over the years, but this teenager 

just brushed it away looking distressed. 

As soon as we escaped earshot she 

muttered, “Look Poe, I don't wish to do this. I 

have my reputation to worry about. I don't 

even want to catch a glimpse of your shadow 

by tomorrow! If you grasp my meaning.” 

I knew this girl was the queen bee 

type, blond hair, fair skin and designer 

clothes; I jotted her down in my ever-present 

notebook. I visited classes, gym, field, pool 

and the patios. Unfortunately by the blue 

lockers in the gym we ran into some of 

Annabel's friends: Claire Bistre, Lolly Pop and 

Polka Dot. 

“Hi, Annabel! Who's the newbie,” one 

of the girls nearly yelled in her squeaky highpitched 

voice. 

“Oh…” she sighed as if she hadn't seen 

me, “this is another new student they want 

me to show around.” She did that rude hair 

twirl in my face, sunny locks flying. 

“I so know what you're going through. I 

left mine to talk with some teachers.” I would 

have to become used to blondes students with 

fake purple contacts, while their eyes roll 

round and round. 

“Well, I guess I'll be leaving you.” None 

of them seemed to notice me slip away to the 

field; so I turned and plopped myself onto some 

field bleachers and scribbled notes. 

When I completed absorbing views of the 

school’s emerald field, I returned to the office 

and picked up some papers from Mrs. Freez. As 

I sauntered home I found a grocery list in my 

deep pocket, Mrs. Parker, my current guardian, 

had handed it to me for shopping on the way 

home. I had walked around the city several 

times and now I knew it by heart. I thought my 

way around several topics on my way home. 

The grocery store was something that I looked 

at in awe. I had never seen or shopped at an A- 

Z Grocery in my life. It was white with a green 

stripe around the top. The sliding doors were 

old and weren't so automatic anymore, when 

you stood right in front of them you had to kick 

them open. As I entered the store a colossal 

heat wave nearly knocked me off my feet but I 

adjusted to the warmth and whipped out my 

list. 

The grocery bags had American flags on 

them reminding me that I had never seen a 

school with a state flag before, nor with 

sweeping stairs leading up into the buildings. I 

thought about how people would act, would I 

have friends? I knew I could live without them, 

I had in the past, but if I didn't have any, how 

could I write my article? 

Momma had sent me off to live with her 

friends the first time when I was six, but it 

wasn't just any friends she could send me to, 

only “special friends” that had left the country 

or state. This way if I moved out of the city I 

was born in I could acquire a “better 

perspective” of the world and life. However, 

this year I believe that Momma truly did not 

want me at home and she just happened to 

come across an acceptable reason for me to 

depart. I didn't really mind leaving much, my 

little sister Sandy used to put me on the edge 

55


Maybe it Wasn't Wasn't Worth It 

Continued 

sometimes. At first I didn't think it was fair 

that Sandy stayed behind, but later I learned 

that it would be easier on her. She would 

probably experience adjusting problems if she 

didn't have parents or a sister. On the plus 

side I wouldn't have to deal with her antics. 

My walk home was calm. There was a 

light drizzle of rain. As I unlocked the 

chestnut door to the house, Dog, the Parker's 

dog with no name, flew into the air and tried 

to attack my six grocery bags. 

“Hi Poeby, how was the meeting?” Jane 

Parker inquired in the white kitchen. The tiled 

walls had vegetables painted all over them 

giving the room a comfortable affect. She was 

such a curious person with strawberry blond 

hair, brown eyes and light-brown freckles. 

“Ehh…it was fine, a snobby girl showed 

me around the school.” 

I sprinted to my bedroom and slept the 

dreary afternoon away. I'd always been a night 

person, listening to the television playing in 

far away rooms trying to see if I could figure 

out what channel was on. Around three am I 

woke up and picked out my clothes. I pulled 

my blue earrings out, and decided I wouldn't 

wear any even if they matched my gray-blue 

eyes. I packed my old faded black backpack 

covered with pins and decided to eat dinner. 

The downstairs was quiet and I found Dog in 

the kitchen; he stood up when I arrived. I 

flipped on the lamp and microwaved the 

dinner prepared the previous night. I fed Dog 

my leftovers and sulked back to bed. 

“Argg!” the traditional groan, my silver 

alarm clock beeped. I cleansed myself with an 

invigorating shower and dressed myself in 

“inappropriate winter clothing” as Momma 

called it. I tumbled down stairs; Carl Parker, 

and Jake, his son the same age as me, greeted 

me with the morning bleary-eyed look. We all 

had to wake up early in the morning, go to 

school or in Carl's case go to work. I caught 

my toast as it jumped out of the toaster, 

snatched my brown lunch bag and ran to the 

car before Carl and Jake left without me. I 

ate my toast in the backseat and tied my 

Adidas white shoes with black stripes in the 

automobile. I still hadn't tied my hair but no 

matter, I constantly carried a hat and smashed 

it down over my white hair. 

“Are ya' ready for school?” he asked Jake 

and me. Jake and his father had brown hair and 

brown eyes, glistening button noses and thin 

pink lips, resembling each other astonishingly. 

“Mmmm… No, I'll never be ready,” I 

mumbled. 

“Ain't that the truth, true for school, 

true for work,” he was clearly from the south. 

“I won't be picken' y'all up so here's some cash 

and the company drivers cell number, call him 

to take you home if you don't walk.” 

“Thanks,” and I seized the money and 

the card. 

We pulled up in front of the school and it 

finally sunk in, horrified, I knew this building 

would add to the list of schools that forever 

haunted me because I never had time to truly 

know the school or become part of it. Jake 

helped me out of the car and introduced me to 

his friends. Mostly he told me about the people 

I would see and unfortunately meet. We 

meandered to our homeroom; thank goodness 

we were in the same one. I did not want to be 

lonely all day. I handed in my “new student 

slip” and was introduced by the teacher, Mrs. 

Simpson. I half expected her to have blue hair 

but it was really brown with fake blond 

highlights. Much to my dismay there were not 

enough seats in the cream colored classroom 

and there was clearly an attitude issue going 

on. Jake pulled me over and asked me about 

my schedule. He told me about my teachers, 

some of them sounded like okay people, and 

others were not the type to linger by. We 

studied in eight different classes, not including 

homeroom, two electives and once a week the 

last period was study hall. Jake was in three of 

my classes and said he'd see me during break. 

I entered the science room alone, 

looking down, tugging my feet; my hair was 

swaying back and forth. The lab area was 

immense and I realized how small my old 

schools were, but then a guy and a girl who 

must have been pretty at one time, before she 

became gothic, told me where to sit and 

56


Maybe it Wasn't Worth It 

Continued 

helped me out. It turned out they were in a 

lot of my classes, too. 

“Are you in the drama club?” the girl 

asked me, her voice rustic. 

“Not that I know of. I'm Poeby” 

“I told you she wasn't John,” she 

shoved him slightly and turned back to me, 

“we'll, help you find you're classes. I'm 

Celeste and this is John.” 

“Thanks, that would be great since my 

friend Jake isn't here to help me.” 

“Jake?” they asked in unison as if they 

had a slight discomfort in talking about him. 

“Do you know him? Jake Parker, I'm 

staying with his family for the year or 

semester, I don't know how long really.” 

“Oh, that guy. Pass me your schedule,” 

John commented. 

I gave them my schedule and while 

they looked at it they knew how nuts I was. I 

flipped open my notebook and wrote a note 

that read: Gothic-John + Celeste, pleasant 

people (so far). 

“Art, that's crazy.” John declared. 

“Yeah, I know, my parents think I 

posses some talent or something, but the last 

time they saw my work was back in the fourth 

grade only 'cause I sent it to them.” 

Most of my classes went well, but I was 

scheduled for two detentions after school for 

not raising my hand and for passing notes, 

which were never passed because I had no one 

to pass them to. At lunch John pointed out the 

“popular group”. 

“Annabel, Claire, Lolly and Polka, they 

may act polite but they're not, just like in the 

movies only not as evil.” 

“Oh, I met them yesterday, Annabel 

showed me around, she was really rude,” I 

told them. 

“There you are!” Jake called out from 

a few tables down, “I've been searching for 

you all over. I see you've met some…” he 

searched for the word, “some people.” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you know Celeste and 

John?” 

“I know them, sort of” 

“Well, okay. Would you guys excuse me 

for a minute? Thanks,” I said to Celeste and 

John. “Great, Jake, go ahead and screw up the 

people I met that were actually kind to me, 

thanks!” 

“Sorry, it's just they're a little on the 

crazy side.” 

“Really? What makes them crazy?” I 

barked at him. 

“Well…” 

“Well, what?” 

“Okay, fine I don't know, they're just 

weird and I think it's a bad idea to hang out 

with them.” 

“Geez, man, does it matter who I hang 

with as long as I stay out of trouble?” 

“I guess not, but don't do anything, I 

repeat, anything stupid!” 

“Okay, okay, are we cool?” 

“Yeah,” Jake mumbled and we motioned 

the secret handshake he and his friends had 

taught me. 

I strode back over to Celeste and John 

“What was that about?” they asked me, “with 

all the arm waving and everything.” 

“Oh. That was Jake going crazy and 

trying to look out for my best interests.” 

“Really,” John threw Celeste a sidelong 

glance as if some message was running between 

their heads. Then he realized I still carried my 

notebook for my article, “what's that notebook 

for? You're always carrying it around.” 

“I, it's…uh,” I didn't know what to say, 

'I'm writing an article, you're in it and it may 

ruin your life if you find out about it” I decided 

against that one. “I use it to jot down things I 

see in people,” I was so thrilled they settled for 

that lie. 

My first week passed okay, except I was 

stuck in two more detentions. People with 

ghastly reputations with appalling grades were 

in the detentions with me. How can people 

work to have a passing grade without being a 

teacher's pet? 

*** 

As the sun sunk one foggy afternoon 

reflecting on my white walls, an idea darted 

into my head. I rolled over on my quilt-covered 

bed to the laptop my parents had given me out 

57


Maybe it Wasn't Wasn't Worth It 

Continued 

of something less than love, a way to have me 

stop bothering them with phone calls and emails. 

I typed away and before I knew it I was 

halfway through my article! 

“Jane, Jane. Jake, Jake. Carl, Carl!” I 

was about to spread the news but they all 

showed faces that flickered with 

disappointment. I searched the room for some 

explanation and then I saw it. Momma, Dad 

and Sandy, my little sister always there to 

annoy. I hadn't heard the doorbell ring and 

now I was deep trouble. 

“How could you let this happen!” My 

mother raged, “how, how?” Her face turned as 

red as her scarlet hair. 

Was I supposed to answer her? She 

ditched me with her friends when I was only 

six; I was simply a nuisance in her impeccable 

life. 

“Calm down Estelle,” my father 

pleaded, he had a look in his eye, a look that 

some how reflected what I thought of them. 

My dad had a sandy blond hair where as mine 

was white, both of us with our gray blue eyes, 

fair skin and pale freckles. We looked more 

alike than Carl and Jake did, proving the 

saying of 'like father, like son' wrong. 

“Maybe I should talk to Poeby.” He 

asked me to take him to my room where we 

could talk and there he interrogated me but 

in a calmer manner than my mother. “Poeby, 

have you seen your grades?” I shook my head, 

“well here's your chance, and he unrolled a 

piece of paper that I assumed was my report 

card. My unequaled grade was an A, which 

ironically was for art, and the lowest 

appeared to be a C+ in Science. 

“What's wrong with 'em?” I asked, “a C 

every now and then is healthy.” 

“Well, let's put it this way. Your mother 

doesn't like C's and when it comes to grades at 

least attempt to please her.” 

“That's all? That's why you flew here? I 

thought it was something more important.” 

“This is important … to your mother.” 

“So? Why should I care, she basically 

kicked me out of the house when I was just a 

little kid, hardly a problem back then!” 

“Well, what can I say, what do you want 

me to say? I can't really just give straight 

forward facts that you don't already know.” 

“Fine, I'll do better in school but do you 

guys really have to fly over here every time I 

get a C?” 

“No, but you know your mother, well 

maybe you don't but… oh well. Shall we go,” he 

pointed to the door and we strolled downstairs. 

“Well, I think this is all sorted out, Estelle I 

think we can zip back home now.” 

Sandy stood there not really caring about 

what was happening and ran over to hug me 

before they left. 

“Is it sorted out? Are you sure?” She 

sounded calm now. I looked questioningly at 

Jake and he winked. 

*** 

58


A New Start 

Kina Sharani Sharani 

“So this is my life now,” sighed Jennifer. She 

took one last glance at the Jefferson High 

School, then, forced herself to take a step 

forward and strode across the patio into the 

brick school. 

Jennifer had just moved to New York, 

from North Carolina, thing were new to her 

and she had to try adjusting her normal life, 

to her new life, in New York; the rest of her 

life. 

She lived with her mom, brother, and 

sister, their dad had died in a plane crash. Her 

mother, Mary-Ann, couldn't stand living in the 

same place without her husband and selfishly 

moved, far from the life they all knew. 

Her brother, Steven, took a different 

approach on their father's death, he started 

attending flight school. His family figured it 

was because since he and his father weren't 

all that close when they were alive, he 

wanted to be in the place he spent his last 

moments of life; in the air. They also figured 

it was because he needed to get away from 

the rest of the world. He was at the age 

where he just wanted to be alone, seventeen. 

Julie, her sister, is Jennifer's role 

model, successful, beautiful and most of all, 

happy. Julie is a well-known lawyer and is 

married to an honest young businessman. 

Jennifer is sixteen with long wavy red hair. 

She had gleaming green eyes and the face of 

an angel. 

It was the first day of school and Jenny 

was lost! She was trying to get to her first 

period but kept winding up in circles. 

Diiiiinnnnnngggg!!!!! The bell for the end of 

first period rung, causing Jennifer to 

screamed in shock, and in despair. Then, all of 

a sudden the halls of Jefferson school were 

swarmed with high schoolers. 

“Oh! Great, my first day of school and I 

already skipped class.” She sat on the floor 

and hugged her knees. She sat there for a 

minute then rose. When she looked up, the 

first thing she saw was a chest! Plop! She was 

right back on the floor again. 

“Sorry about that, I didn't see you. 

Considering, it's not everyday a girl just pops 

out of the floor like that,” chuckled the boy. 

“It's no problem, considering it half my 

fault and that people don't usually appear out 

of thin air,” replied Jenny. 

“I'm Steven.” The boy stuck out his hand 

for her... 

59

Revista Melissa.cdr

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