Where Am I? Sitka Story Lab Student Anthology

Where Am I?: Stories
of Strange Landscapes,
Wrong Turns, and
New Worlds
Story Lab Student
Anthology

Table of Contents
Short Stories
Savvas Matiatos ......7
Katie Holmgren ..... 12, 19
Addie Fowler ......... 25
Tava Guillory ........ 26
Jade Balansag .........31
Hannah Thomas ......33
Poetry
Skylar Wright ...... 42
Kaylyn Easterly ....47
Jing O’Brien .........48
Brianna Clark .......49
From Story Lab
4th Grade Haiku .......56
5th Grade “This I Believe”....71
SEER School Haiku....82
Lena Keilman ..........85
Jasmine Nellis, Olivia Quiggle.. 86
Invented Words..........87
Surrealist Poems.........88
Personal Essays
Jordan McLuckie.....91
Denver Evans.........94
Jing O’Brien............98
Molly Melnick.........100
Trista Elixman........103
One-Act Plays
Debbie Yearwood.......106
Kelsey Thein..........113
Cover: Chloe Froehlich
Sitka High School
Where Am I?
S T O R I E S O F S T R A N G E
L A N D S C A P E S , W R O N G
T U R N S, A N D N EW WO R LD S
Student Anthology Editors:
Sarah Swong
Henry Colt
Devin Myers
Island Institute Director:
Peter Bradley
Board of Directors
Linda Behnken
Brenda Campen
Dan Henry
Jonathan Kreiss-Tomkins
Reid Magdanz
Willow Moore
Rob Snyder
Based in Sitka, the Island Institute is
a nonprofit organization that strives
to strengthen community resilience
through storytelling.
Where Am I: Stories of Strange
Landscapes, Wrong Turns, and New
Worlds is the Island Institute’s first
publication to feature Southeast
Alaskan student writing. Copyright
© 2016. All rights revert to authors.
Single copies are $10. Books are
designed and produced by hand at
the Island Institute, 304 Baranof
Street, Sitka, Alaska 99835. Support is
provided by the Alaska State Council
on the Arts, Crossett Fund, Juneau
Community Foundation through the
Machamer Fund, City & Borough
of Sitka, Sitka Charitable Trust,
Rasmuson Foundation, and private
contributions.
peter@iialaska.org
www.islandinstitutealaska.org
907-747-3794

Introduction
The Editors
There is so much to express about being young. Sitka Story Lab,
a free in-school and after school creative writing and storytelling
program for students ages 5-19, launched in 2014 to give students
the encouragement and the freedom to share their stories. We
believe storytelling is an essential art form that builds confidence,
sharpens communication skills, and strengthens interpersonal connections.
Through our programs – in-school classes, after school
workshops, and projects such as this anthology – we seek to empower
youth to be innovative thinkers, and to express themselves
with clarity, purpose, and imagination.
This collection, Where Am I? Stories of Strange Landscapes, Wrong
Turns, and New Worlds, is the Story Lab’s first collection of student
writing. We wanted to give young Alaskan writers the opportunity
to experience what it is like to publish a work, to improve their
writing in the process, and to share their experiences with a wider
audience. For the 2015-16 school year, we worked with young writers
from Sitka, Hoonah, Wrangell, Skagway, and Haines to hone
the pieces that are featured in these pages.
Where Am I? ventures into strange and beautiful places, physically
and metaphorically. The collection conveys the disorientation and
discovery that young people here experience, from being in the
wilderness to simply growing up.
What a delight it has been to enter the inner worlds of these
young Alaskan writers. From as young as nine years old to as old
as eighteen, these students wrote a range of genres – short stories,
personal essays, one-act plays, poetry – in a palette of tones, from
imaginative and playful to emotionally moving and dark.
Some indeed are about Alaska, such as Denver Evans’ essay about
adventuring, Molly Melnick’s essay about fishing with her father,
4 Where Am I?

and the 4th grade students’ springtime haiku about Sitka. Others
are wonderfully eerie and appear to take place in other worlds, such
as Katie Holmgren’s “Clancy and the Gentleman, and Tava Guillory’s
story’s “A Little Bit Blue,” a fantasy story about a powerful
young woman in possession of magic. Others feature non-human
characters and whimsicality. Hannah Thomas’ “Mice of Vonna”
takes place on a fictional planet populated by warring rodents.
Kelsey Thein’s one-act play features video game characters coming
to life, and Debbie Yearwood’s centers around talking stuffed
animals.
Many pieces came from classrooms. At Sitka High School, Savvas
Matiatos and Trista Elixman in Stefanie Ask’s creative writing class
responded to the theme. We ran springtime workshops in Rebecca
Himschoot’s 4th and 5th grade enrichment classes at Keet Gooshi
Heen. We wrote haiku with the SEER School on Sitka’s Cross
Trail. In Wrangell, Bob Davis’ 7th and 8th grade students submitted
wonderfully varied pieces, including Jade Balansag’s mysterious
flash fiction, Kaylyn Easterly’s dramatic verse, and Jing O’Brien’s
observant eye. Finally, Story Lab traveled to Hoonah to work with
Bonnie Harris’s 11th grade students, Jordan McLuckie and Kelsey
Thein.
Others came from Story Lab’s weekly after school program for elementary
and middle school students. We invented words inspired
by “untranslatable words” from other languages, surrealist poetry,
and more, which is featured in the section “From Story Lab.”
The most rewarding part of this project was polishing each piece
one-on-one with the students. We worked with students in person
in Sitka and Hoonah and remotely with those from Haines, Skagway,
and Wrangell. Students were open to feedback and eager to
improve their writing; some slogged through five or more rounds
of editing to shape their final product. I was impressed by their
Southeast Alaska Student Anthology
5

esponsiveness, their adaptability, and their genuine curiosity to
hear others’ opinions.
Thank you to parents, teachers, and schools for fostering creativity
and encouraging these students to share their voices. Thank you,
most of all, to the students for venturing into this first experiment
in student publishing in Southeast Alaska. We hope to publish
many more student anthologies in the years to come – to give
students a chance to express themselves with a regional audience
and to give Southeast Alaska a chance to see the wondeful writings
of their young writers.
6 Where Am I?

Short Stories
Southeast Alaska Student Anthology
7

From Ashes to Ashes
Savvas Matiatos
As he awoke to an ashen landscape, the man realized he was no
longer in the comfort of his studio apartment. The sky was as gray
as the ashen ground; the unnatural stillness garnered fear in his
heart. The trees petrified in ash stood there immune to time’s disease,
frozen without an indication of when to thaw.
“Where am I?” the man said to himself, slowly getting off and
brushing away the gray particles.
In front of him lies a volcano, a former husk of its previous self. The
man could smell the burnt flesh of thousands, the death and decay
seeped into his nose. It clung there like a parasite to its host; it had
no intention of leaving. With each breath his throat became more
and more dry, like an unforgiving drought. The volcanic embers
entered his lungs, weighing him down physically, but also making
him anxious. The air was thick with the by-product of the eruption.
Where air is supposed to be light and colorless; this air was dusky
and had weight to it. A subtle breeze blew by whisking the ash,
making an abstract swirl. He stood there, motionless, waiting for
something, anything, to give him a sense of direction. His answer
was silence. Where there should be birds chirping, silence. Where
there should be the bustling of a modern metropolis, silence.
Where there should be the sound of children playing, silence. After
standing there for what felt like a century, the man finally drew up
enough willpower to walk forward. The sound of the crunching
ash reminded him of the cereal he once loved as a kid. He then
thought back on his fond childhood memories, realizing that those
day of happiness would never come back. He stopped to look at
the tree. The gray coating of the tree made it seem mechanic; both
were chill to the touch. He looked at the branches of the tree to
see a bird’s nest. Within the nest was baby birds. They were being
fed by the ash. This angered the man, how could nature procure
something so terrible? Did it have a higher purpose? Was it just
doing this for a cheap laugh? He then just stood there, staring at
the chilling figures of the birds.
“Why?”
8 Where Am I?

SAVVAS MATIATOS
He turned to his right to see the volcano towering above the horizon.
His destination was set. He left the sorrow of the tree behind
and left for greener, or in this case grayer, pastures.
*
The gray in the sky turned into an eerie white, a true statement
at the lifelessness of the land. The man had been walking for
what seemed like hours, and now finally he was at the base of the
volcano. Vegetation had once grown at the base, but now not even
a weed could escape the ash’s tyrannical grasp on life. The man
looked up to see the veil the ash held upon the land; like the atmosphere
of Mars the sky was polluted with dust.
The man started to walk up the volcano, not seeing the storm that
would await him. The incline was steep, but the air made the journey
all the more difficult. Imagine trying to swim through water
when your lungs are halfway full of the substance you’re trudging
through already. This was the predicament the man was now facing.
The air grew thick, his lungs filling with the promiscuous dust. He
fell to his knees. The force of exhaustion was finally kicking in, his
eyes bloodshot, his face encrusted with the gray death. He was now
caught in the middle of the storm, the swirls of ash turned to whips
which cracked upon him. He tried to see anything, but was met
with only more gray. He frantically swung his arms about hoping
that someone would take him out of this misery. His arms rushed
to the ground, his hands running through the soot that imprisoned
the ecosystem. To his luck he found a breather mask attached to
swim goggles. He hastily put the jury-rigged contraption on, trying
to beat death to the finish line. The ash moved more violently,
whisking up small tornadoes which shot more ash into the already
damaged sky. Able to now finally breathe, the man rushed to his
feet and hastily made his retreat out of his would-be tomb. After
about five minutes of running something caught his leg. As he fell
he felt as if wet sand was being rubbed on his arm.
Getting up he realized where he now was, ground zero, the crater.
Southeast Alaska Student Anthology
9

FROM ASHES TO ASHES
The warm orange embrace of the sun reminded him of the summers
on the lake, no care in the world. The sun pierced through the
weakest point of the blanket-like ash.
He snapped back to reality to see the black soot which covered
everything. Each step he took felt as if he too would be sucked into
the eternal darkness. He ran his hand over a rock, the soot felt like
snow, but it stuck to flesh like fire. Everything within the crater felt
dull and lifeless, nothing could live here.
The man’s new mission was to get a visual of his surroundings. He
climbed to the opposite side of the crater and looked onwards.
His gaze brought him towards a city, death and destruction were
a common theme in this land, but this city brought it to a new
meaning. The man continued on, intent on getting his questions
answered.
*
The day was turning to night by the time the man got to the bottom
of the volcano. The gray in the sky was slowly turning to black;
no light could pierce its hold on the sky. The outskirts of the city
were a sight to see. Cars were parked in the middle of freeways;
people were frozen on the street. The city was like a piece of art,
a picture of the modern life of the every-day human. The man
walked to a woman holding the hand of a child. The child’s face
was turned towards the volcano with a look of awe. In her hand
was a small bear missing an eyeball with a few tears here and there.
Her youth seemed to be ever portrayed in this still image.
“What a terrible way to die,” the man said as he looked onwards.
The stillness of the city was quite peaceful during the night. No
sound could be heard, no lights could be seen. Nothing was wrong
but that didn’t make it right. The deeper he went into the bowels of
the city the more pungent the odor became death and decay turned
into genocide and rot. The man was now curious as to why this was,
and when he came to his answer he was more disgusted by
10 Where Am I?

SAVVAS MATIATOS
the sight than the smell. Bodies, piled on top of each other, no ash,
their flesh burnt off their bones.
“Within every volcano lies lava,” said a voice, “We were lava to
the volcano, the bringer of destruction. But with every bit of lava
something new is formed, people brought upon this tragedy, but we
finished the job.”
The man turned around to see many robed figures. Their dark green
robes were old and dusty; the wrinkles upon them inferred that
they haven’t been washed as much as they had been worn. The majority
of the people in the clothes seemed malnourished, not having
seen anything edible in ages. Their faces as pale, the true incarnate
of lifelessness. Their heads shaved. Their red lips stuck out like a
man amongst beasts, but who were the real beasts?
“The eruption gave us a new perspective on life. If the ash came to
us then we were all sinners to its great power. The ash came for a
reason, to cleanse the world, to start anew. We are the children of
the ash, the new beginning. Those that remained must be purged in
the new world, the perfect world.”
Slowly the group of people crept toward the man, certain to be his
demise. Not waiting to see the outcome the man started running.
He ran past old buildings that used to be places for people to meet.
He ran past places of residence, a place people used to have lived,
a place where people could know the meaning of home, but no
longer. Finally he came to the edge of the city. A giant abyss lay in
front of him. The red glow of death could barely be seen through
the immense blackness that radiated from within the abyss. He
could see the brimstone which was under the layers of bedrock.
*
The death and the destruction, the insipid colors of a world rebuilding,
the bleakness of life upon the canvas of Earth, the neglect
of the actions leading up to the event. These are the answers to the
question the man wanted answered. How could this happen to a
place of such potential? They could have prevented such tragedies,
Southeast Alaska Student Anthology
11

FROM ASHES TO ASHES
but they were too caught up in material things. Is this the outlook
of the world I came from? The little care for nature and the well
being of the people that inhabit it. The moral depravity of those
that have the power, and what of the power. The invisible line that
separates the weak from the strong, if it was broken this would not
have happened. The greed of the world caused it to take drastic
measures; nature is the true all-powerful being. No longer could the
man take the neglect of those past and the insanity of those future.
This is what the man thought to himself. As the footsteps of his
pursuers grew closer he knew what he must do.
As the man tumbled into the darkness he once again asked himself
this question,
“Where am I?”
Savvas Matiatos is a senior at Sitka High School.
12 Where Am I?

Clancy and the Gentleman
Katie Holmgren
The Gentleman saw the man wash up on a Sunday. It was the day
before, however, on a Saturday, that the man was just a little speck
in the ocean and that the Gentleman had first noticed his existence.
Since then, he watched from his little sea-side abode, the
wind blowing sand into his tea and the palms dancing the tango
behind him. It was the best entertainment he’d had for days—
watching this little speck in his personal paradise— and so he sat
throughout the night, watching, until the next Sunday morning
when he saw the man wash-up.
It wasn’t the prettiest washing-up the Gentleman had seen. The
poor fellow was slapped against the sand and left there unconscious,
in an unnatural position. He just lay there, the merciless
waves lapping over his sandy, drenched body. He wasn’t dead, so
the Gentleman dragged him up the shore into his camp out and
waited.
The man awoke in the afternoon to reveal dark gray-blue eyes, as
if the ocean had seeped into his sockets during his time at sea. But
they were nice eyes, and was the rest of his face too. He appeared
to be middle-aged, with gray whiskers and bushy eyebrows. His
clothes were ragged and damp, but he still looked to be a man of
good nature. “Hellah there,” he said squinting at the Gentleman.
“Why hello.”
He lifted his cheek off the ground and the sand stuck to it. He
stared at the gentleman, “Who might yah be.”
“I’m the Gentleman. And you?”
It took a while for this to register with the man. He wiped the sand
off his cheek and looked around confused. He looked at the fire,
and the ocean, and the palms. And then the little shack, the sky,
Southeast Alaska Student Anthology
13

CLANCY AND THE GENTLEMAN
and his clothes. Finally, the gray-blue eyes rested back on the
Gentleman. “Tah name’s Clancy,” he said.
“Ah. Very well, Clancy. Welcome to the Isle,” the Gentleman nodded,
“Would you like some tea?”
“Do yah have water?”
“Ah. Yes, certainly,” the Gentleman picked up a glass and went
around back of the hut. He returned and Clancy thanked him. The
Gentleman continued “And where are you from, Mr. Clancy?”
“Ah. I was sailin’ in Columbia, but I fell overboard. Uh, yah see, I
was a wee bit drunk and it was mighty stormy out…” He fiddled
with his hands.
The Gentleman looked thoughtfully at him, “Oh yes. We do see
some storms in these areas.”
“Yas indeed. The crew tried to up ‘in save me, but it was just too
dark, too stormy, as I said. Yas, the storm twas somefin’ to behold.
Never in mah day ‘as I seen such a storm. Well, for days I floated
out t’an ‘bout in dat ocean, tossin’ and turnin’. Well, it’s a murical
dat I’m even alive. Yah see, I was near drowned when I washed up
‘ere. I can’t even remember that last bits.” His squinted, as if trying
to recall what had happened.
“Amnesia?” the Gentleman suggested.
“Don’t know. I jus ‘member jus tellin’ myself that this twas the end.
That this would be tah end of this old Clancy, and I was prayin’
for some good forgiveness. I thought I was a dead man, that I was
gone go to dat Heavenly place. Not dat that’d I’d mind much to see
tah Jesus (God bless Him), but the storm was just scarin’ me so.
14 Where Am I?

KATIE HOLMGREN
Yas, I was tremblin’ in mah boots. Actually, I lost mah boots in the
storm... Yas, I believe I did. Days were some good boots too. Ah
well. At least I’m ‘ere now— much better dan dat ocean there. Twat
did yah say your name twas? Gentleman somefin’?”
“Yes, the Gentleman. I call myself that for confidentiality reasons.”
“Huh,” Clancy looked at him curiously, “You don’t look like no
gentleman, but I can tells you ares one. It’s in tah way you carry
yerself.”
“Thank you.”
“What yah doin’ in tah middle of nowhere? On this here island?
It’s mighty purdy, but I bet it gets purdy dull, purdy fast. I’d say
my piss is better dan dis ‘ere island, yes I’d say so. It’s a nice place
you got though, this shack,” he said motioning to assembled pile
of driftwood, “And with tah fancy utensils and glass and tea even.
Say, yah must live ‘ere for pleasure then.”
“Oh no, I’m here by chance, just as you. It’s not so bad after a while,
I rather enjoy it now,” the Gentleman said earnestly.
“Ah, but yah didn’t answer mah question. I don’t got a good mind
for indifference, Mr. Gentleman. Nah sir, I doesn’t. And why does
you call yerself the Gentleman? I get tah ‘confidentiality’ hoo-hah,
but whys dat specific name? Whys not somefin’ different? Like
Oliver, or Thomas, or somefin’ regular-like.”
“Well, I dare say I couldn’t find a fitting one. I could hardly see
myself as being called anything other than my given name, so I
chose something general that I considered myself to be already. I’ve
been called the Gentleman for quite a long time now, long before I
arrived here at the Isle.”
Southeast Alaska Student Anthology
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CLANCY AND THE GENTLEMAN
Clancy pondered this, playing with beard stubble. “I see. Yas, I see.
You know, I wouldn’t consider mahself to be a gentleman, except
maybe a gentleman of the faith. Other than that I don’t stick to any
gentlemanly habits.” He winked.
“Ah. So you’re a Christian then?”
“Yessir, I am that. Although, theys at the church don’t like me
much. Nah sir, dat I’m afraid they don’t. S’okay though. I know Jesus,
and dat’s good nuff for me. Jesus didn’t say I need to be civil, so
ain’t gonna. And if theys at the church dis ‘gree? Well, fine by me.
Ha ha, dats fine. How ‘bout you? Do you know Jesus?”
“I did. I’m starting to consider science now.”
“Ah yas. Science is comin’ popular. One of mah crew mates, is all
‘bout that. Me, I think a lil’ curiosity’s dandy, it’s healthy. But when
a man can’t see tah beauty in tah stars no more, dat’s too far. Disectin’
every lil’ thing ‘bout the Earth ain’t a way to happiness, not in
mah opinion. Nah sir. I’ll stick to mah religion, thanks. I just hope
you find yah way back, if I may be so bold.”
“It’s fine. I appreciate your concern.”
“Yah welcome. Yer a good man, Mr. Gentleman, good company.
I always enjoys some good company. And I guess were gone be
company for some time now, you and I. Das good, I’d rather be ‘ere
with any person dan by mahself.”
“Yes, it certainly can be lonely sometimes.”
“Well no more. We’ll be ‘ere a long time, I reckon. Mah crew is
bound to come and look for me... They’d have to find tah island
sometime, they would. Yas, they be a good crew. Some fine people,
loyal as hounds. I’d do tah same for them in a heart beat. If only
I didn’t get so drunk all tah time. I swear if I get off tis island, I’ll
never touch a drop of tah stuff ever ‘gain. Now you gotta hold me
16 Where Am I?

KATIE HOLMGREN
to dat, if we get out of ‘ere, okay? Hey, just how long have you been
stuck ‘ere for?”
“Five years and forty-seven days. I keep a calendar in the hut,” he
gestured to the wooden shack.
Clancy’s eyes popped open, “Five years? By George, we ain’t ever
gettin’ outta ‘ere!” He started to cuss, but then took a breath, “What
‘ave you been doin’ all this time? How ‘ave you survived?”
The Gentleman smiled, “Would you really want to know?”
Clancy said yes.
“I will be right back then.” He disappeared into the hut and
reemerged moments later. In his hands was a solid, reflective knife
with a rugged wooden handle and covered in scratches. Clancy
eyed it cautiously. He could see the Gentleman’s oblong face glinting
off it.
“You see, the church didn’t like me either,” the Gentleman said,
“And neither did the rest of society. They were jealous of my manners
and didn’t like my character, and so they marooned me here.
They said that jail was not ‘fit’ for my situation. The truth was, they
just didn’t want to be near me, any of them, and so they banned
me. They condemned me here to my own solitude. I was furious.”
The Gentleman stepped towards Clancy, “They sent me here with
possessions like this tea, these utensils, and this very knife, but they
condemned me just the same.”
Clancy shivered, “Das cruel, Mr. Gentleman, das cruel.”
The Gentleman nodded, “Yes, it was cruel.” He looked thoughtful
for a moment, still standing. Clancy could almost see the memory
in his eyes, but not the memory of pain. There was no feeling there,
just the starry-eyed bliss that comes with recollection.
Southeast Alaska Student Anthology
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CLANCY AND THE GENTLEMAN
Then he turned back to Clancy, “Well, marooning a person on an
island is the next best thing to a death sentence. I suppose that’s
the real reason they did it.”
“Death sentence?” Clancy eyes popped up, “ So you’s a criminal?”
“I don’t believe so. It’s hard for me to remember…” His eyes kept
switching between the present and the past. He looked confused
almost. Finally, he got it together and said, “I suppose I am now
because on the boat ride here, I struck my revenge. With the knife,
I struck them down, every last one of them and escaped with
only this scar,” he ran his finger over a white mark on his forearm,
“While all the others died. I took hold of the boat and headed
towards where I reckoned land was, but I was caught in a storm,
just as yourself. I crashed into this very Isle, and was marooned just
as they intended.”
“Yah killed... all of them?” Clancy backed up a little.
“Yes. Yes I did. They helped me survive a good month here to, kept
me fed,” the Gentleman played with the knife and eyed Clancy like
a cat.
Clancy wasn’t a smart man, but he was smart enough. He said in a
low voice, very slowly, “I’m not afraid to die, Mr. Gentleman.”
The Gentleman laughed. “You’re not? That’s good I suppose. You’re
not like the others.”
“Nah. Nah, I’m not. I know where I’m goin’.”
“Mm-hmm. I’m so sorry Mr. Clancy. It was very nice to meet you.
It would have been nice to converse with you longer,” the Gentleman
smiled.
18 Where Am I?

KATIE HOLMGREN
“You too, so I thought,” he replied. Then the Gentleman lungedtowards
him and Clancy was no more, only his body, in the hands
of a killer.
The Gentleman cleaned his knife with a sigh and put another mark
on the calendar. He watched Clancy’s dead body for a bit and then
watched the sunset for a bit. While he put kindling on the fire,
he thought of the present and of the future, but was careful not
to think of the past. All this he did outside his hut— the waves
splashing in front of him and the palms dancing the tango behind
him. And at dinner that night, he ate meat.
Katie Holmgren is a junior at Sitka High School.
Southeast Alaska Student Anthology
19

Playing with Fire
Katie Holmgren
“Would you like to buy a star, young lady?”
The voice was uncannily quiet– barely visible amongst the deafening
airport– but I heard it as clearly as if it was shouted in my
own ear. It was a little elderly woman crouching in a corner, her
fine wrinkled face poking out of a floor-length purple cloak like a
hermit crab.
I was a bit startled, “Oh, hello. I’m sorry, were you addressing me?”
She licked her cracked lips and then repeated herself, “A star.
Would you like to buy a star?”
My eyes darted to my gate just across the hall then back to her
frail shell, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sixty cents for a quarter of a star. A dollar and half for a half.
Three for a whole. It’s a good deal.”
I sighed and decided to humor her. The plane wouldn’t board for a
few minutes anyway. “I don’t suppose you have a picture or sample
of one of these stars, do you?”
She smiled weakly. “I do, I do,” she said, reaching inside her cloak.
Then she pulled out her same hand, now a clenched fist and
looked back and forth amongst the people.
“Come closer child,” she whispered.
I obeyed and then slowly she loosened her grip. Inside her trembling
wrinkly palm, rested a little speck. It had to be the size of a
pinpoint, but it still omitted a great deal of light. I had to squint
to look at it, otherwise it burned my eyes. But it was still the most
beautiful thing I had ever seen. In fact, it consumed me. Rays of
20 Where Am I?

KATIE HOLMGREN
rose and periwinkle and bliss all swirled around in perfect golden
light. It was hope and magic and whimsy and everything trapped
and untrapped within a little seed. And yet, I had seen it before.
Millions of them, millions of times. Just not so close, so magnified.
So magnificent.
The woman snapped her hand shut and I was back. Back in the
airport, back in the gray. And everything was colorless. The clothes
were dull, the voices were hums, the laughter was hollow, and the
outside was the same color as the inside. And I felt sad. But it was a
weird, colorless type of sad– maybe melancholy. It was like a glum
numbness.
“Is that really a star?” I whispered amongst the gray.
“It is, it is. But you must be quick, child. I have to go. Do you want
to buy it or not?”
I only thought for a second, before I thrust five dollars into her
hand. Smiling, she slipped the star into my palm and the warmth
soaked through my body. I trembled as I transferred it into my
pocket.
“Thank you,” I said as she started to stand up.
“Thank you,” I said as she started to stand up.
“Guard it carefully.” She winked and then began to hobble off. I
watched, dumbfounded for a little while and then turned to go to
my gate. The star made my whole coat feel like it was fresh out of
the dryer and I wondered what mysterious object this was– what
I had just bought. What was I supposed to do with a star anyway?
I was eager to pull it out and just stare at it, but I would miss my
flight. I had to hurry.
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PLAYING WITH FIRE
Just then I heard a cry. I whipped around and there stood two
policemen over the little, cloaked woman. I watched in dismay as
herher small leathery wrists were slipped into a pair of handcuffs.
Next thing I knew, I was running towards them.
“What’s going on?” I exclaimed.
The police looked up slightly frazzled by my interruption. “This
woman is being arrested for possession and dealership of intergalactic
material,” one of them said, “She’s a star stealer.” He looked
down at her in hate and I was keenly aware of the now “illegal”
star in my very own pocket.
“That’s… that’s illegal?” I asked. The old woman and I exchanged
a glance.
“Illegal?” The policeman scoffed, “Do you know the power of stars?
Do you know the damage stars do on our country? On our citizens?!”
He shoved the woman and she grunted. “We’ve been after
this one for years…”
I stared in dismay and then began to slowly walk backwards, the
star getting heavier. When I was a good fifteen feet away, I turned
and ran towards the gate. The flight attendant was just closing the
door. “Stop!” I reached a hand out and made it to the desk. “I’m on
this flight!”
The flight attendant paused and returned to the computer. I then
sighed in relief and reached in my pocket for my boarding pass,
“Thank you so much. You have no idea how important this flight
is for–”
I held back a yelp of pain when my hand touched the star instead
of my ticket. It singed me! I thought in complete shock. It hadn’t
burned earlier.
22 Where Am I?

KATIE HOLMGREN
Not daring to put my hand in the pocket again, I lifted my jacket
up to my face and peered inside. It was the same beautiful speck,
except this time it rested in a little bed of black ashes. It had
burned my boarding pass.
“Miss?” The flight attendant questioned as I looked at her frightenedly.
What was going on?
Then her face morphed into someone else’s. It was the face of the
old woman surrounded by the same now-angrier hues I had seen
in the star. She started cackling madly, her eyes cutting through
mine. I stepped back and shook my head, and then the flight at
tendant was there again, looking at me curiously.
I felt like I was going to throw up.
“I’ll be right back,” I mumbled then jogged to the restroom. In
the mirror, I saw my sweltering, red-faced reflection and then
the sink. I rushed towards it and turned the cold water all the
way up and splashed it on my face, but the heat was still there. In
fact, it was even more unbearable, so I took a breath and plunged
my whole face under the icy spout. The coldest it felt was mildly
lukewarm. That’s when I noticed steam. There was steam coming
off my face.
I stared in shock and heard a toilet flush in one of the stalls. They
couldn’t see me this way.
Trembling with adrenaline, I shut myself in a stall and started to
hyperventilate through my completely dry mouth. My eyes watered
and I swear I could see the heat waves radiating around me.
They were colorful and sparkly, dark and diamond-like, the colors
you see before you pass out. I put a hand on the wall to steady
myself and then tore off my coat. I flung it onto the ground just in
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PLAYING WITH FIRE
time to see it burst into flames. Screaming, I plastered myself into
the corner and watched in terror as the flames licked up the rest of
my jacket. All that was left was a little fiery speck laying peacefully
against the tiles.
Over my heaving breathing, I heard someone tear into the rest
room, “Is everything okay?! Is everyone okay!”
I tried to answer, but my tongue was glued to the roof of my
mouth and my lips were sealed together. I couldn’t move. The little
speck grinned menacingly between the door and me. Something
less than a centimeter had me trapped. The colors began to return
again.
I shut my eyes tight in attempts to gather myself. There was no
way out. There was no way to sneak past, no way to douse the
flame, no way to escape the heat. All I did was stand there, breath
ing in heavy delusions, eyes closed. I wish that none of this never
happened, I thought amongst the insanity. How could things go
wrong in such a short period of time?
When I opened my eyes, everything was pitch black. I wondered
at it for three and half seconds and then light returned. I was back
in the airport– not in the restroom, but in the busy, bustling halls
all over again. I didn’t move. Cautiously, I shifted my eyes to the
right. The little old woman was smiling right next to me.
“Would you like to buy a star, young lady?” She asked.
My jaw dropped and I scoffed several times. Then I laughed
at myself like a crazy person. But I was cold. It was lovely, airconditioned
cold. I laughed again in delight. Maybe I was a crazy
person.
24 Where Am I?

KATIE HOLMGREN
She looked at me with knowing eyes, “Ah. You already bought one,
didn’t you… And I suppose this is where I’m supposed to say ‘Be
careful what you wish for.’” She chuckled and then continued, “But
I dare say you made a good wish this time. Funny things, the stars.
Sometimes you have to be more mindful of them than the wishes.”
I didn’t say anything and neither did she. We just stared at each
other. And then I slowly turned around and went to my gate,
marveling at what had just transpired. I marveled at it in line, I
marveled at it when the old woman was arrested again, I marveled
at it in the plane for two hours, and I have marveled ever since.
And my hand has had a little scar on it to this very day.
Katie Holmgren is a junior at Sitka High School.
Southeast Alaska Student Anthology
25

The Truths of Being a Barista
Addie Fowler
1. Your color used to be black. Now it is black with the occasional
bleach spot and rubbed in coffee grinds.
2. “In a for-here mug please” the customer says. A single tear rolls
down your cheek as you glance towards the teetering pile of already
dirtied dishes. “Of course” you squeak back as you pour their
extra hot half-caf latte into your last clean mug.
3. You sigh internally as you force a smile and “thank you” at the
unmistakable ping of about 3 pennies hitting the bottom of your
tip jar. You can now tell what type of change is being dropped into
the barren vessel. Sometimes your lucky to hear the louder thunk
of a quarter or two, but you don’t let your hopes get up.
4. “Why are we open this late’’ you moan to your coworker. You
take a shot of espresso. “Who needs coffee at 5:30?” You take
another shot.
5. You lie awake in bed at night. Your so tired but so awake. “Why
can’t I sleep?” you whisper to yourself. “Gods, why can’t I sleep?”
You whisper to the empty space next to your bed. “Let me sleep”
you whisper to the darkness surrounding you.
6. You place a mocha on the end of the bar “Jonathan” you say
loudly. But then you look around. No one is inside but you. Was
Jonathan even ever here in the first place? You sink to the floor
defeated. This is the third time this week. Is Jonathan Kreiss-Tomkins
even real? (ok for real he shows up and orders his drink and
then disappears for 15 minutes before retrieving it and refuses my
offers to remake it).
Addie Fowler is a sophomore at Sitka High School.
26 Where Am I?

A Little Bit Blue: Chapters 1-3
Tava Guillory
Chapter One: The Snow
I sat by the fire sipping tea as I watched the snow cover the land
that had been growing all summer. It was that magical kind of
snow that only ever comes down in fairy tales. That snow covers all
the land in just one day and never melts until spring.
I loved this time of year. My garden was inactive, so I could rest
and practice spells and incantations for the next year. Also, I got to
go to town to get supplies. I loved getting to talk to someone other
than the animals and myself.
The snow began to fall quicker now. I decided to go pack for the
journey to town. I stepped into the small bedroom in which I
spent every night and I pulled out my satchel. Clothes tumbled
out on top of it as I dug it out from under the heap it had been
lost in. It was a satchel that was a present from my mom before I
moved to this deserted cottage. I only used once a year and it often
got buried over time. In the pile there was a simple dress that
fell to my knees and I stuffed that in the main pocket. I opened
another drawer and grabbed some more clothes before cleaning up
the mess I had made. Finally, I stepped out into the kitchen and
took food essentials. I was ready.
I heated more tea as my last cup had cooled and then I sat down
on the old, patched couch that separated the living room from the
kitchen. It was only the crackling fire that kept me from getting
cold. I was almost regretful to leave when there was a knock at the
door.
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A LITTLE BIT BLUE
Chapter Two: Blue-Haired Girl
I rushed to the door and pulled it open. A girl stepped ingratefully,
followed by a blast of cold wind that made the fire hiss and pop.
The girl removed her hood and a small pile of snow tumbled
down on to the floor. She pulled off her hat and face mask reveal
ing shoulder length hair. I stared. Her hair was blue.“Sorry,” she
mumbled, “I’ll sweep that up.”
She gestured at the pile of snow on the floor.
“That’s okay, it will melt,” I smiled. “Sit by the fire, you look cold.”
“Thanks!” She removed her coat and hung it on the empty hook
by the door. Then she made her way across the wooden floor to
the couch. When she sat down her blue hair swayed smoothly. I
glanced down at my caramel colored hair and then at hers. Maybe
it was normal to have blue hair these days, but the last time I had
been in town was one year ago and this girl looked a lot older than
one.
“I know, I have blue hair.”
“Yeah.”
“My name is Blue too,” she clarified.
“Why did your mother name you after your appearance?”
“She didn’t. I was found wrapped in a bundle by Hawk Lake by a
group of men with a lack of imagination.”
“I see,” I said. I set another pot of tea on to boil and sat down again.
28 Where Am I?

TAVA GUILLORY
“You never knew your mother?”
“No. What is your name?”
“Milina, Mili for short,” I answered.
“Did you have a mother?” she smiled.
“Yes.”
The pot of tea began to bubble so I rushed over. I almost poured
the cups of tea all over me as I carried the mugs. We sat there in
silence for a while, thinking over hot cups of tea.
“It’s getting late, we should go to bed,” I voiced, looking at the
clock.
I set up a cot on my bedroom floor for Blue. We both climbed in
our beds, ready for the chilly night to come.
Chapter Three: Magic Mushrooms
The cold morning light woke me like it did every morning. I slid
out of bed and tiptoed into the kitchen. Blue was sleeping soundly
in the cot on the floor. I pulled on my coat, boots, and hat over my
pajamas and stepped outside into the still clear morning.
No snow fell from the sky but there was still three inches of snow
layering the meadow and the forest floor. I made my way to the
chicken coop at the edge of the forest. There were only three eggs,
but it was winter and that would be enough for breakfast along
with the egg from yesterday.
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A LITTLE BIT BLUE
As I started along the path that followed the forest’s edge until
the house I saw a mushroom circle. I bent down and looked closer
at the red mushrooms. They were the kind of mushrooms that
signal that a fairy is nearby.
I ran home and started a fire. The warmth brought back feeling to
my fingers as I made the eggs. I grabbed two plates and set them
on the round table. Blue walked in just as I finished setting the
table.
“Hi, sleepyhead,” I teased.
“Hi,” she mumbled.
“I was planning on going to Siya tomorrow,” I told her as we
began to eat. I wasn’t going to tell her I had been planning on
leaving today, but the fairy circle had changed my mind.
“Okay, I love it there! Mind if I join you?” Blue asked.
“No, that would actually be nice,” I said.
I decided to not tell her about the fairy circle yet. I would have
to spend time looking at it today. The mushrooms might mean
something more than I had caught on to and wanted to save. All
the decisions I had made bubbled around in my mind. I could not
decide whether we should go shovel snow from the path.
We began to do the dishes in silence. The pile of plates and cup got
higher as we got close to the end of our job. Then we put the dishes
on the shelf.
We began to clean for the trip ahead. Blue said that she would
sweep the kitchen and I decided to go outside and clean the
30 Where Am I?

TAVA GUILLORY
“chicken pen.” Let’s say that she didn’t know that I had cleaned
it yesterday morning. I ran over to the cluster of mushroom that
nestled themselves in the edge of the forest. The cluster was very
small but I still had room to to place my hand in the center of the
circle. I began to mutter. small but I still had room to place my
hand in the center of the circle. I began to mutter.
“Creeoffaiy, creeoffaiy, geeona.”
And as I finished the incantation, a little fairy came from the
center.
Tava Guillory is a 7th grade student at Blatchley Middle School.
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31

A Tortured Life
Jade Balansag
I’m carried outside by a man with a smile on his face. The thought
of what will happen scares me. What have I done to deserve this?
I think to myself. Why is this happening?
For most of my very short life, I’ve been trapped in jail –– a box
–– just waiting for this moment of my predetermined fate. We’ve
all grown up knowing what happens ultimately; knowing that one
day, we’ll be in this situation, facing the same ending. Now that it’s
here, the world seems to move in slow motion.
The man drops me on the hard ground. The sight of the line of
executioners here makes me want to writhe in angst, but I can’t.
I can’t move. A tall woman walks out of the crowd. As she turns
around to announce my execution, the man that brought me out
passes containers to everyone.
The woman, who is the head of this operation, ties me up with a
rope from the ceiling. It is here that I know that unlike my last
operation –– where they had opened and filled me with handfuls
and handfuls of small things –– I wouldn’t survive.
I’m ready to face my fate. The first executioner walks up with . . .
a bat. It’s a girl. She’s wearing a blue gown with a sparkly, matching
tiara. She must be the princess. As she preps herself to swing,
I take in the pink and purple decorations everywhere and think,
this is it. An undignified way to die. I examine the executioner one
more time and realize she doesn’t have her eyes covered with cloth.
I see all the excitement in her eyes as she re-positions the bat in
her hands. She just wants a clean swing. She wants to see my lifeless
body torn to shreds. The princess smiles as she strikes.
The line of executioners cheer loudly as I dangle from the rope.
The king yells, “Swing hard!” and the queen claps happily. I realize
I’ll never meet my maker. I feel like crying, but I still can’t move.
32 Where Am I?

JADE BALANSAG
The princess is strong. She gives a hard blow to my side that
causes me to swing around. She takes a few more, to my head, my
arm, my leg. That’s when I split. That’s when I get a cut so large
it’s impossible for me to hold on anymore. That’s when my insides
spill out. That’s when I let go. I last see the executioners quickly
cleaning up my innards from the floor, filling up their containers
excitedly. After all, I’m now a thing of the past, a piece of garbage,
a memory. This is the same life my kind has always lived. An unacceptable
life. A miserable life. A tortured life . . .
The life of a piñata.
Jade Balansag is a 7th grade student at Wrangell Middle School.
Southeast Alaska Student Anthology
33

Mice of Vonna
Hannah Thomas
There are black holes in space, as most know, but there is only one that
leads to an alternate dimension. In this dimension, there is a planet
called Heirum. On this planet there are what humans would consider to
be giant, walking, talking, cloth wearing rodents. There are many kinds:
rats, squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, but the most evil of all was a beaver
named Mardon. Mardon was a seven-foot tall mighty and wicked beaver
who sent his barbaric armies across the world to conquer. There was
only one young hero brave enough, cunning enough, and sneaky enough
to stop him. That was Martin, the little mouse from Vonna who looked
like a small child compared to his enemy. Despite his size and his lack of
war knowledge, he headed into Mardon’s lair, alone.
I slithered into the cavern like a worm between the teeth of a great
beast. The air was thick and warm, smoggy as if truly from inside
a monster’s mouth. Moisture dripped down the walls like saliva,
sticky and bubbling from the air pockets shooting up from deep
underneath the Heirum. It was a deep dark that lathered the outer
regions. As you looked into cavern there were four blazing torches,
dancing in their victory over the shadows. And behind their vicious
glow was the throne, a large seat roughly carved out of the rock,
inside a column that stretched from the ceiling to the floor of this
great cave.
On the throne sat the one who destroyed my world once and
threatened again: Mardon. I slid down in absolute silence. I placed
my front paws on the floor and twitched my tail ever so slightly.
My ears laid back flat and my heart beat faster with more fear,
anger, and anxiety than ever before. The pads of my paws became
wet with sweat.
I scurried, silent as my shadow, and ducked behind a mass of stone.
“It’s been a long time, Martin Tad Scots of Vonna.” The voice
34 Where Am I?

HANNAH THOMAS
oozed from his mouth and crawled across the floor to meet my
ears.
“Was I not what you were expecting?”
I was not sure how he knew I was there. But I supposed there was
no point hiding now. I stood up and saw the gnarled slash through
his left eye my father had left on him. In that moment all my
seething white rage bubbled to the surface. He was going to die.
He was going to pay. He took my father away from me, my home,
and now he was threatening every innocent’s existence.
“I must say I’m a little disappointed. I was expecting a mysterious
great warrior, not a mind-sickened old hermit.” I walked slowly
towards him.
“Do not let your eyes be so easily deceived, nor your ears hear the
lie. I assure you I am every bit an evil demon as the world pictures
me.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Then come closer. Don’t worry, I don’t bite without warning.” An
icy drip ran down my spine. His buckteeth stood almost to the
bottom of his chin, ragged and greatly discolored, and there were
several other teeth, sharp as the antler’s tip, twisting their way
across his face.
I came closer and stood in line with the torches. He reeked of
death and sweetly sick meat. He was sick, a deep sickness, and
there was no cure for one so far gone. I looked in his one eye, and
it was hollow. It had color, but looking directly at it was like staring
into a bottomless pit. No remorse, no enjoyment, not even anger.
That’s what made him such a good leader for the Muldairians,
that’s what made him the perfect evil overlord. He simply didn’t
care.
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MICE OF VONNA
“You look and smell disgusting. Have you always been this sucked
dry of life or was it a gradual thing?” I asked. He chuckled, darkly,
lowly.
“You want to see me a bit more lively?” He leapt from the chair and
pushed me back into the shadows. His nostrils were flaring, his eye
was aflame, and in his giant paw he held the same sword that had
taken Father’s life.“Is this better?” He asked with a twisted chuckle.
There was no time to escape his headbutt, sending me rolling back
into the wall. I groaned, having hit every bone in my body against
the rock floor. I rose quickly, despite my agonized state, and darted
to the left. I got out of his reach and unsheathed my sword, holding
it before me as if my life depended on it. He chuckled, amused by
my weak attempts.
“It may not be something grand, but I can skin you well enough
with it,” I said, and then lunged forward. But he leaned away ever
so slightly, just enough to avoid the tip of my blade. I tried again
and again, but he evaded my every attempt. He didn’t even bother
with his own sword.
“Oh, come on! How are you doing this?” I said.
He laughed again and reached into his layers of mesh and metal.
At the end of his great paw dangled a small ball of glowing purple
light attached to a heavy chain around his neck.
“The benefits of being evil, Martin. I am held to no moral code,
and am therefore not above cheating.”
“What is it?” The orb was beautiful, softly glowing in the darkness
like a beacon, a comfort.
“You know the tale of the great meteor that struck our world generations
ago and left a great mysterious power source from another
world?”
36 Where Am I?

HANNAH THOMAS
I nodded.
“Well, these fragments ripped off while it plummeted through our
sky,” he motioned with the necklace, “this I found on one of my
lookouts, many years ago. It had remained hidden all that time, just
waiting. It was so inviting, so entrancing – of course I stooped to
pick it up. I felt its energy run through me like a river. It was truly
amazing, Martin. You have no idea what it feels like to hold all
future’s in your paws.”
“What are you talking about?” Perhaps if I kept him talking I could
sneak a slice to his side.
“This!” He flew his arm down and the metal plating halted my
blade’s attempt. His one eye was filled with a mystical white light,
glowing underneath his shaggy ashen fur.
“Magic?”
“Better,” he shoved my back onto the ground. “Technology from
another world. This lets me see the future. I can predict every move
you make, making your attempts useless. Give up now, and I will
let you live to see my ultimate plan unfold.”
“No,” I said, standing upright.
“You do not know when you have lost, boy. That is a fatal trait
amongst warriors.”
“And you underestimate your enemies.” I lunged at him again. I
was not going to stop until he was dead. With every miss my anger
rose, my blood rushed, and I stopped thinking before each strike.
I simply hacked at him, blade first, all my weight into each swing.
He had to take his sword out to keep up. I took that as a good sign.
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MICE OF VONNA
We clashed all over the cave; at times the only light to see the next
move was the mystic light from his eyes and the soft glow from his
pendant. I had to get that off of him somehow. But how? He sped
up. I couldn’t keep up with his swings. After three near misses, I
lost my balance and fell back. He raised his sword to plunge down
and finish me off.
There were too many boulders to my right. The only way to avoid
death was to go up the wall. A ramp led up, and I took it. I rolled,
shoved the handle of my sword in my mouth, and galloped to save
my life.
His heavy paws fell on the ground and his breaths sounded with
rage from his chest. If I had to go, I would rather it be on my terms
than his. He was even closer now; his armor chink as he raised his
sword up for one last shot.
I closed my eyes and I jumped with everything that I had. The air
streamed through my whiskers and fur until I hit something hard
and latched onto it with my claws. I scampered, but I kept slipping
down. I looked around, desperately, but there was no time. A giant
mass of darkness landed on my platform and we both fell.
I landed on a hard ledge. I was coughing and gasping, eyes still watering
from the sting of coldness during the fall. I couldn’t breathe
and my body wasn’t sure how much more of this it could take.
Mardon was getting up. He was on a lower ledge, and he was
climbing up to mine, but I could not find my sword. He was getting
closer with each passing second.
What could I do? Now, I really couldn’t breath. I was going to die
alone, in this dark, damp, forsaken cave. I never thought it would
end like this. I backed against the wall and stood up, my arms out
stretched. If I was going to die, I was going to do it up right, with
38 Where Am I?

HANNAH THOMAS
some shred of dignity.
I had to take one more look. And then I spotted a glint. My sword!
It lay on the ground, below the beast hurtling up towards me. I
backed up to the edge, and I jumped, latching onto Mardon’s armor
and ripping him off the wall. We tumbled, and when we landed my
breath was gone and my body was shaken through, but I was still
alive.
When I realized I was lying on top of Mardon, I tried to run. But
he grabbed my tail.. I scrambled and scraped and bit down as hard
as I could, but every time I managed to break free his monstrous
paw would be back restraining me.
“Give up, Martin. You don’t have it in you,” he rose, placed his
lower paw on my chest, “You’re a cowering wimp, pathetic. You’re
just like your father.” He was trying to rile me up, but I knew better.
My father was an honorable mouse; brave to the last second.
“Let’s hope so.” I wrapped my tail around his leg and pulled back.
He flew into the air and I rolled out just in time. I galloped to my
sword and latched onto the handle. He ran at me like a crazed
animal – eye glowing white, foam dripping from the corners of his
mouth, and a snarl like the devil himself.
I waited until he was close enough to smell. Then I swung up the
sword, which caught the chain of his necklace and ripped it off.
The pendant went flying into the air, and I reached to catch it. . My
enemy was stunned, shaking his head.
“How did you fool me? I should have seen the second part of your
plan.” He seemed groggy from being separated from the pendant
after so long.
“I didn’t have a second part. Sometimes the best plan is to just wing
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MICE OF VONNA
it last minute, you know?” I flipped the pendant over in my paw. I
clipped the oddly shaped purple glow onto the collar mesh of my
armor.
The moment it was attached I felt the purple glow as a wave, rippling
through my body with warmth. I knew I was going to win
and there was nothing to worry about. My vision went completely
black, or perhaps I just closed my eyes. I saw Mardon, but not as
he truly was. I saw a faint vision of him, like a colored shadow, that
was running straight towards me. But the true Mardon was in a
confused stupor.
I saw many possible futures, the faint colored shadows running all
over the place, trying to kill me in countless ways, and yet I remembered
them all and knew instantly how to avoid them. Mardon ran
at me, and of course I avoided with a calm step to the side. He kept
trying, and I kept winning: ducking, side stepping, jumping into
the air and flipping over his back. He finally stopped, bent over,
panting.
“Not so fun when you’re on the other end, is it?” I asked. I could
have just killed him there, but now I didn’t want it. He may have
been evil, but he was someone. He had a life and who was I to
judge when his time was up?
“Step down, Mardon. Leave this land, live out the rest of your days
quietly and I will let you live.” He laughed, mocking my fair offer.
“The day I bow to the will of a mouse I do not deserve to live!” He
came at me again, hatred in his eye.
He collapsed on the ground with my sword jutting out of his gut. I
braced myself against his body with my lower paw and yanked my
weapon free. He still had an ounce of life flickering in his eye and a
few raspy breaths left.
40 Where Am I?

HANNAH THOMAS
“Is revenge as sweet as you dreamed?” He asked, blood gurgling
between his lips.
I had just the menace who has haunted my thoughts since childhood.
I spent many late nights contemplating what it would be like
to kill him. What did I feel?
“I still wanted you to die, but in a weird way I wasn’t angry about
it any more. You killed my father, but if I let it consume my life
then I would be letting you win. So I moved on. I have family and
friends and even a girlfriend who loves me. My life is good despite
what you did. I’m not proud of the fact that I had to kill you, but
I’m not going to be guilt-ridden. I’m going to celebrate our victory
with the rodents I care most about and enjoy my freedom,” I said.
I hesitated before the next words. “I hope you can find some kind
of peace, Mardon, I truly do.”
And the strangest feeling came over me. I really meant it.
Hannah Thomas is a senior at Haines High School.
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Poetry
42 Where Am I?

On Turning 17
Skylar Wright
The government tells me this is my last year of adolescence. I
know I have never been a docile juvenile. Now it feels as if everything
that is all at once difficult about being a kid and not being
a kid is cluster like fresh concrete in my worn sneakers. Too often
peers have told me that maturity is the opposite of innocence and
purity, but I don’t really believe in any of those things. The words
of the first boy that I love hang in the wires of the trees of our city
for me. Learn how to love with me he tells me electrically. He
texts me the things he would never say to me. Wanna be my baby,
and fall for my phallic fallacies? Will I become a new person as I
continue to change physically or chemically, as I always have? I am
at the highest spirals of my mortal coil. Dying is the only consequence
of existence. I am caught in the moralities of my mortality,
and my thoughts hurt. I’m too tired to sleep. Only caffeine can
cure this feeling.
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I bet his blood is made of apple vinegar
Skylar Wright
I imagine your heart is made out of purple cabbage, vines instead
of veins. You have a nice nasty personality. You are bitter and bearable
in small quantities. You presence is cautiously complimentary.
You look like you’re always hungry. You are a dietary bully. You
spend a ridiculous amount of money on cloths that are meant to
look inexpensive. You listen to music that I imagine sounds like
two Decepticons trying to have robot sex. I won’t tell you that I
hate you because I know you hate yourself more than I ever could.
the opportunity I would eat your face. I won’t.
44 Where Am I?

To the Bully I Bully
Skylar Wright
I’m sorry I talked down to you for saying I talk down to you. I really
want you to know that I don’t care enough about you to hate,
no one does. Don’t think that makes you an eligible candidate for
my pity. There are times when I have thought to kick you in the
face with my new Timberlands, because you don’t deserve any
kind of skin contact from me. I’d punch you in the face so hard
that your teeth would become crumbling projectiles that I would
then make you look me in the eye and swallow. Despite your aggressive
nature you’re a masochist when it comes to me and my
verbal arsenal. You have only once attempted to insult me verbally
Nick and an entire third period Spanish class cussed you out of
the room, including Mrs. Lauran. Calling me a Bitch has no effect
on me. It alludes to your interest in bestiality and means that given
the opportunity I would eat your face. I won’t.
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I Have a Crush on an Aspiring Clown
Skylar Wright
This is the poem I wrote to you that I will never read to you. Because
don’t you get poetry.
His nose is red, plastic, detachable, and theatrical. He has a tumor
sense of humor, like he’ll grow on you and his comedy does kill.
He has a knight of the 90s kind of chivalry. I can love him even if
his heart is shaped like a triangle. Even though I know I have no
symmetry in me. Our words can still hang in the wires in the trees
of our cities. He doesn’t even text me phallic fallacies. I will always
laugh for you, more than I have to.
46 Where Am I?

This is what a city is
Skylar Wright
A city is a mouth and it will sing to you in any language you choose
A city is a mouth and it will only ever kiss you when it’s drunk,
because otherwise it’s not comfortable with that kind of intimacy
A city is a mouth and it will swallow you whole, even if it’s full.
A city is a mouth and it’s a chain smoker, so it’s gross when it
curses out love poems at you
A city is a mouth and it’s got cavities of poetry, form gluttony feeding
on your currencies
A city is a mouth and its priorities are consumption and communication
Skylar Wright is a senior at Pacific High School.
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Again
Kaylyn Easterly
It eats the darkest parts of me:
that I’m not 120;
that I panic when I can’t find the perfect outfit;
that my thoughts of him consume me;
the parts of me I hide,
the parts of me I hate.
It digs under my skin and sleeps there.
It enjoys the warmth of the human skin,
the body of a teenage girl.
It burns when It wakes.
My flesh, hotter than fire, colder than ice,
rages to be felt.
It screams when I laugh at It,
but It’s a master of mind games.
That’s the game It plays. . . . and wins.
Kaylyn Easterly is a 7th grade student at Wrangell Middle School.
48 Where Am I?

Etched Scars: Memories of Child
Jing O’Brien
We were once children:
hands small, innocent,
unscarred by anger
that stains stories red.
Eyes were wide, trustful,
until lies planted
gardens ruled by weeds.
They ripped hearts from chests,
and twisted them unrecognizable
into knots tied from
our imperfections.
They forced weapons on
to skeleton frames;
we became armies
of weakened machines.
Time has stained our hands
like painted sunsets
bleeding in shadows.
As discarded boys,
who will fade and fall
like the autumn leaves,
we will etch our scars
on innocent hands.
Jing O’Brien is an 8th grade student at Wrangell Middle School.
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The Journey
Brianna Clark
I peer into the Stable
And am astounded to find
That wise men and shepherds
Are kneeling down, worshipping a baby.
I stare at the infant.
What is so special about Him
That wise men have come from
Afar and shepherds have left
Their flocks to worship Him?
He grows up and He becomes a teacher.
His fame spreads throughout Judea.
I observe Him as He chooses twelve
Ordinary men, fishermen and tax
Collectors, the lowest men, to be His disciples.
I study Him as He does
Many great miracles.
He makes the lame walk,
The deaf hear, the blind see,
And the dumb speak.
He calms raging storms on Lake Galilee,
Casts out demons,
And brings dead people back to life.
Who is this man?
He claims to be the son of God.
“Lord, touch me!” I cry.
He turns to me,
And I see pure love in His eyes.
He cares for me, a worthless sinner.
50 Where Am I?

BRIANNA CLARK
I watch the religious leaders
Shake with jealousy
As this man attracts many followers.
They search for something,
Anything, to accuse Him of.
One of the twelve disciples
Slips away and makes plans
To betray his Master,
Just as the Master had predicted.
The other disciples have gone with Him
To the Garden of Gethsemane,
Where He falls to the ground,
And prays with all His strength.
He is distressed and in such agony
That He is sweating blood.
He knows He must give his life.
Something is about to happen.
Something dreadful.
Whatever it is, I wish I could
Take His place.
But I know I cannot.
The sound of marching
Fills the garden.
I see torches and I know.
The religious leaders come out of the forest.
His betrayer kisses Him on the cheek,
The signal that He is the one.
I wish I could stop them,
But they refuse to listen.
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THE JOURNEY
They bring Him before the High Priest.
And they question Him.
False witnesses witness against Him,
Ultimately, He is accused of blasphemy.
To my amazement, He quietly bears it.
He doesn’t defend Himself.
Nor does He argue with them.
He keeps his mouth shut.
He is brought before Pilate,
Governor of Judea.
Pilate questions Him and then
Declares his innocence.
The religious leaders are passionate,
And their passion spreads
To the citizen of Jerusalem.
They want the Romans
To Crucify their Messiah.
He is sentenced to death on a cross.
But first, He is flogged,
Almost to death.
He bears it quietly.
No complain comes from his mouth.
He hauls His cross up calvary with help
He is nailed to it.
He hangs there, bloody, torn, and alone.
God has forsaken Him.
My sin is on Him.
52 Where Am I?

BRIANNA CLARK
He cries out
“It is finished!”
And then draws His last breath
The earth shakes and the sky is dark.
But I don’t understand,
What is finished?
After hours of meditation and prayer,
The answer is whispered to me.
My debt was paid for on the corss
When He drew His last breath,
The price was paid in full.
He is taken off the cross
And put in a tomb.
Three days pass.
The earth shakes.
Three women go to the tomb
To prepare the body.
But they find that He isn’t there.
Angels tell them that He is risen.
The Women run to spread the good news.
Death no longer has power.
This man, the Son of God,
Overcame death.
He gave me the
Power to overcome death, too.
He appears to His disciples
And they are overjoyed.
Forty days pass
And he takes His disciples
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THE JOURNEY
To the Mount of Olives.
He commands them
To tell the whole world of Him
And then He goes to Heaven.
But I don’t want
To do what He tells me to.
I want to do things my way.
I battle His will with mine.
And I find that I am miserable.
I make the decision to do whatever
He commands me to do.
Sometimes it’s painful at the start,
But I find that I am happier than
I’ve ever been doing His will.
When things get tough,
I will put my trust in Him.
He will pull me through
And make me a better
Person through it.
He has filled me with
An everlasting joy.
I fall to my knees
With tears streaming down my face,
I thank the One who
Gave all to pay my debt.
And I hear him say, with love,
“Welcome, my daughter, to the family.”
54 Where Am I?

BRIANNA CLARK
He commands me to spread
The good news.
How He has given eternal
Life to all who believe in His name.
He has charged me to tell
Of How he changed me
From the inside out.
Brianna Clark is a high school sophomore in Sitka. She is home-schooled.
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From the
Story Laboratory
56 Where Am I?

Springtime Haiku
4th Grade Writing Enrichment
In April and May, Story Lab ran a six-week workshop on haiku
writing with Rebecca Himschoot’s 4th grade enrichment class at
Keet Gooshi Heen in Sitka, AK.
The students used traditional Japanese techniques of haiku writing
to craft the haiku in the following section. Kireji, or cutting words,
show up as dashes, colons, and other punctuation that “cut” the
poem and feature a shift in image, thought, or emotion, similar to
a volta in sonnets. The 4th graders were even subtler – they often
featured “turns” and such dynamism without indicating it with
punctuation or a specific word. Kayaani wrote:
An apple falls down
It is very red and crisp
A child picks it up
Kigo, or seasonal words, are words or phrases that indicate the season
to the reader. We compiled a list of Sitka springtime kigo, such
as “deer heart” and “herring,” and used them in our poems. Tyson
wrote:
Orion in the
South? No I don’t see him
He’s in the West.
We used modern techniques ot haiku writing. A haiku uses “narrowing
focus” when it starts with a big image and ends with a small
slice of that original image. Finnian’s lovely example:
A field of flowers
One little purple tulip
A striped honey bee.
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A “riddle” haiku contains obscure hints in the first two lines and
the answer to the riddle in the third. Ava’s clean example:
Glowing high
Glowing low
Full moon
Finally, we often imitated the haiku masters Matsuo Bashō and
Kobayashi Issa. They were inspired by the Zen Buddhist philosophy
of wabi-sabi, which means seeing beauty in the imperfection,
impermanence, and fragility of life and accepting the natural cycle
of birth and decay. In haiku, this philosophy often appears as
capturing small moments, paying attention to movement in nature,
and approaching these truths of life with either humor (for Issa) or
solemnity (for Bashō). All the students wrote poems in the spirit of
these haiku masters, yet with truly unique voices.
Kaiya’s example, full of longing and her recognition of nature’s
fragility (as well as her own):
A super tall tree
I really want to climb it...
But there’s no strong limbs
Kylie’s example, depicting emotional changes through the weather:
The love of a hug
Makes me feel warm inside
Then it starts to rain
Eva’s example, so dense and rich with movement:
Catching fish! Easy
Says father bird to his son
A fish jumps, splash, snatch
And so many more to read in the following section. I am very
proud of these young poets.
– Sarah
58 Where Am I?

4TH GRADE HAIKU
Finnian
Fly up in the air
Flies into a spider’s web
Next meal for spider
In a murky swamp
There’s something mysterious
A pretty lily
In the large ocean
There is a giant blue whale
With some barnacles
A field of flowers
One little purple tulip
A striped honey bee.
Walking through the woods.
Oh! Look at nature’s beauty.
Ow! A mosquito.
Pebbles on the ground
Continuously stepped on
And crushed to gravel.
Spring is coming now
And the daffodils are out-
Just do not eat them!
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4TH GRADE HAIKU
Jamison
I hear the beautiful
Birds sing it is so peaceful
I shall now sit here
Oh, hey there’s my friend
Nevermind that is my dad
His hair mixes me up
Sun, so bright and warm
Like a yellow dandelion
I sit next to it
The pinecone feels like
Something walking down the street
And a light purple
60 Where Am I?

4TH GRADE HAIKU
Tyson
Looking at big leaves
Skunk cabbage? Deer heart? No.
I don’t even know
Standing on a bridge
Looking at a silent pond
“Drip!” Silence again.
Orion in the
South? No I don’t see him
He’s in the West.
Trying to find my
Keys. Huh… weird, where did they go?
Can’t find them at all.
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4TH GRADE HAIKU
Ava
Big orange carrot
Nice and sweet
Yellow.
Glowing high
Glowing low
Full moon
Herring eggs are good
To watch, hatch in the ocean
Seagulls eat them all
Swim up, swim down, swim
All around, in the ocean
Then not able to swim
Fun with a herring
Try to catch it right now
Fall off the dock.
62 Where Am I?

4TH GRADE HAIKU
Kaiya
One dandelion –
Silently floating along
The silent river
A super tall tree
I really want to climb it...
But there’s no strong limbs
An old bent tree limb...
Fell to the ground at my feet
As I sit and watch.
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4TH GRADE HAIKU
Virginia
Noseeums are back
Biting me as I smell the
Stinky skunk cabbage
The sapling bends and
Groans with the weight and strength of
A child’s two feet
I see the yellow
Of stars on the blue background
Of a pretty flag
In a library
I see books, books, and more books
Unable to read
A baby bird is
Not ready to leave the nest
It falls on its face
A merry bubbling
Laughter is filling the air
Children exploring
A feral insect
A girl’s favorite pet bug
She couldn’t keep it
64 Where Am I?

4TH GRADE HAIKU
Sally
The giant world
Big blue sea
A purple star fish
The sun starts to set
Four stars move overhead!
It’s only an airplane.
A big leaning tree…
Thump! It falls. A bird drops a
Seed in its place.
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4TH GRADE HAIKU
Gemma
A tall sprucy tree
It does not shed its needles
Three bugs land on It
Snow falling softly
Only two very small snow flakes.
Just a cotton plant’s fuzz.
Dry grass on a hill
Gently waving in the breeze.
Flies land on the grass.
A field of guinea pigs
20 are eating grass
Only one eating a flower
66 Where Am I?

4TH GRADE HAIKU
Zoe
The very big field
Cute multi-tasking bunnies
One bunny stays still
The depressed valley
Wolves scavenging for food
One wolf smells bunnies
The wolves have now come
Bunnies skittering around
Some wolves get dinner
Silence in the Field
The valley is silent too
Some happy, some not
Fiddleheads popping
Popping up, naturally green
Then digesting them
April showers might
I’m not promising anything
Might bring May flowers
Herring eggs there
Just there, waiting to get eat
You eat one, and then POP!
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4TH GRADE HAIKU
Kayaani
An apple falls down
It is very red and crisp
A child picks it up
The leaves are falling
Brown orange yellow and red
So light and fragile
Delicate and bright
Pink and green so colorful
Soon they will be berries
68 Where Am I?

4TH GRADE HAIKU
Alexander
One day in Sitka,
A man went fishing and got to eat
I should say got eaten
One bug
On the trail
Oh wait it’s bigger than me
A school
Room 28 Mr. Bryner’s class
One kid named Alex
A pinecone
Smells like forest looks like purple
Tastes like spinach yuck
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4TH GRADE HAIKU
Kylie
A mountain of trees
A tree with thousands of limbs
One little tiny green leaf
The love of a hug
Makes me feel warm inside
Then it starts to rain
You get scared of a
Very very bad thing
You’re only in bed
CRACK! A tree limb falls
A bee buzzes by to see…
What’s going on
70 Where Am I?

4TH GRADE HAIKU
Eva
Salmon berries green
Juicy ripe like raspberries
Squish the seeds inside
Spotted baby deer
In the meadow, playing hard
Mamma’s back, let’s go
Catching fish! Easy
Says father bird to his son
A fish jumps, splash, snatch
Green body
White hair
Daisy
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“This I Believe” Essays
5th Grade Enrichment
In April and May, Story Lab ran a seven-week essay workshop
with Rebecca Himschoot’s 5th grade enrichment class at Keet
Gooshi Heen in Sitka, AK. We each wrote personal essays for
“This I Believe,” a nationwide project to engage youth and adults in
writing, sharing, and discussing brief essays about the core values
that guide their daily lives.
We started with making timelines of our lives, writing down
important moments of success, failure, and being with family and
putting them in chronological order on twine and paperclips. Then
we picked the stories that stood out to us most, and scribbled down
sensory details that brought us back to the memory and emotions
we felt moment-to-moment. Finally, we wrote the essays.
This class, and “This I Believe,” confirm again what we already
know – that children are magnificently insightful and full of rich,
moving, complicated experiences. These essays reflect their beliefs,
their emotions, and the range of experiences they have had in their
ten years of living.
The following are a handful of fine essays from the class. Lilly tells
a story of losing her pet. Rianna discusses a time his brother almost
died, and Maia writes about the clubhouse she made with her
sister. Taylor and David each focus on a moment of nerve-wracking
public performance, and the lessons they learned. Jessica writes
about making mistakes in gymnastics class. And, last but not least,
Haley and James write about the values they gained from having
water splashed all over them.
I hope you enjoy these essays as much as I did. And I encourage
students, teachers, and parents to look up ‘This I Believe” and write
some of these wonderful essays yourselves.
–Sarah
72 Where Am I?

THIS I BELIEVE
Lilly
I believe that everyone should be able to have the freedom to do
what they want.
When I was about six, my neighbor’s cat got run over by a car.
I had two gray tabby cats back then. I got them from a pet store
when they were just three weeks old. They had been crossing the
road, but their Mom got run over by a car. A lady found them and
brought them to the pet store.
I have always felt bad for them because of what happened to their
Mother.
So, when my neighbor’s cat got run over, I kept them inside. I guess
that the thought of a cat being run over freaked me out. That’s
probably why I kept them in. During school, I locked them in my
bedroom. At night, I let them roam around the house. But I never
let them go outside.
At first, they were fine with the change. Then, they started sneaking
out of my room somehow and once or twice they almost slipped
out the front door. After a few months, they started to get mad that
they could not go out.
One night, my Mom was mopping her and my Dad’s bedroom.
She had the window wide open so that the floor could dry.
I did not know that she was mopping. So, as I did every night, I
opened my bedroom door and let the cats out into the house.
They jumped out the window. They probably recognized the fresh
breeze.
I freaked out all night. In the morning, I opened the door as I used
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THIS I BELIEVE
to when they went outside, and my cat, Pretty Pants, came back in.
I was happy that he was okay.
But Rascal never came back. We never knew what happened to
him.
I guess I knew deep down inside that I shouldn’t have kept them
in. So, I have always felt responsible for what happened to Rascal.
I believe that everyone should be free to do what they want. So in
the future, I will never keep an animal locked up again.
74 Where Am I?

THIS I BELIEVE
Rianna
I believe in me and my brother. We’ve had to go through bad times
before, but it was worse when my brother’s life was on the line.
When I was nine, and my brother, Cody, still had his paper route,
what I feared most happened. I was downstairs on the old, crumbling
couch, and my mom ran downstairs and shouted “Rianna,
Cody was hit by a car! Come on!”
I was so scared when we got to the hospital. It also didn’t help that
right next to us they were bringing him in on a stretcher. We went
through one door, another door, another door. Cody turned and
went through a side door, and we went through more doors!
When we got to the waiting room, I started watching TV. I didn’t
have the remote so it got really boring. But then a doctor came out
and said he was talking. I was really happy. Not so much, though,
when that same doctor came back out and said it was a co-worker,
not Cody. You would think they would know the difference.
When the doctor came out again, she told us he had to be medivaced
to Seattle. So it was settled. My dad would ride with Cody and
me and my mom would buy plane tickets.
When we got to the hospital it was amazing! The place we were
staying at was really nice. My aunt and my uncle were in the room
next to us, so it was nice having family. I spent a lot of time with
my cousins but when they left my parents thought I should, too.
So my parents sent me to my grandma and grandpa who lived in
Port Townsen. When I was there I was sad so I was by myself a lot.
My parents had stayed in Seattle so I would isolate myself downstairs.
But when my grandparents went to go visit Cody I got to stay
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THIS I BELIEVE
there with him. We stayed at the Ronald McDonald House
because when I was gone he was moved to another hospital, so he
was getting better. But soon my parents decided that I was going
home with one of our friends, so I stayed with them for a week and
a half and then my brother came home.
So I learned that my brother is stronger than we thought. Sure, the
only sport he can do is track now, but still we know he is stronger
than we thought.
76 Where Am I?

THIS I BELIEVE
Maia
When I was seven, me and my sister Naomi were playing in a big
room that we called “The Playroom.” While me and Naomi were
playing, we decided that we wanted to make a club – A Butterfly
Sister Club. The Butterfly Sister Club was going to be a club that
consisted of only me and Naomi.
Over time, the Butterfly Sister Club grew and developed. We came
up with a special chant that we sang whenever we were happy or
excited. We also made matching shirts by printing designs on them
with a special kind of paper, then cutting them out and ironing
them onto the shirts.
Naomi and I also came up with the idea of a clubhouse, a place
that was comfortable and useful for our Butterfly Sister Club
needs. Naomi and I were excited about the Clubhouse and tried to
build it as soon as possible. At first, the Clubhouse was in Naomi’s
room. But now it is in a small space that was built into the bed
for storing things, which our dad reinforced so that we could play
inside it.
The Clubhouse has a big mirror on the wall and a small lamp so
that we can light the place up. It is about 2.5 feet wide and 3.5 feet
tall and 5 feet long, with flowers on the wall and one tiny door at
either end.
Me and Naomi still do the Butterfly Sister Club. It is a great way
to have fun and be sisters. I think that in the future I will remember
the Butterfly Sister club and it will bring a smile to my face.
Naomi and I will continue to have fun in the Butterfly Sister Club
for at least another year, and it will be a great experience for both
of us.
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THIS I BELIEVE
Taylor
I believe that if you try your best in something, something great
will happen. It was the Geography Bee and I felt so nervous. Being
on the stage and seeing all my friends be nervous for me made me
feel better. When the bee started I noticed that only girls were up
there, so that made me feel good, too. It was in the cafeteria, so I
could smell what was for lunch – fish. I remember wearing a white
lacey shirt, while the girl sitting next to me was wearing a navy blue
zip-up.
The first question they asked was, “Which state is known for potatoes?”
I knew it was Idaho, but since I was so nervous I freaked and
said “pass.” The microphone they made us hold was cold and hard,
with my voice trembling through it. Once a few rounds passed, I
wasn’t so nervous. I felt comfortable around the people who were
sitting on the stage still. My chair was brown, and when I moved
around it was cushy.
Finally, it was me and my friend Darby left. For 10 minutes the
announcer asked us questions that neither of us knew so we just
guessed and got them wrong. Until he asked a question about
turtles migrating from Hawaii to somewhere, and I guessed, “California?”
I didn’t know that that was the right answer.
When I figured out that I got it right and I had won, I smiled so
big. The judges gave me a medal and a first place trophy. Plus, a
certificate! My mom was so happy that she started crying. A few
weeks after I’d won I was invited to high school board room meeting.
There they gave certificates to the middle school geography bee
winner, the middle school spelling bee winner, and me. They also
had cake there.
This memory has changed me. This moment taught me how to
believe in myself and have confidence.
78 Where Am I?

THIS I BELIEVE
David
Last year, somewhere in December, we were in music class once
and Mrs. Brant-Ferguson said, “Who would like to volunteer for
our 5th grade winter concert?”
The next thing you know, my hand is raised in the air not even
knowing what I’m announcing. So Mrs. B gave me the cards and
told me to start practicing. It was an announcement about the high
schoolers playing in between our concert’s break.
On the day I got my notecards, I didn’t practice. I was too “busy”
playing a video game called Clash of Clans. I totally regret not
practicing. On the day of the concert I got up and was about to
announce when I noticed it: close to a full house. Hundreds of eyes
staring at me! I then began to just forget about the eyes and just
read. I began to have a stutter in my voice. If I ran off, it would be
more embarrassing than just reading and having a little stutter. I
had raised my hand in class to get rid of my stage fright, but this
really only made it worse.
So, in the end, I learned two things. One, we should be more confidence
in ourselves. And two, don’t get too distracted by things and
do what you need not what you want. I believe in confidence and
practicing.
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THIS I BELIEVE
Jessica
When I was nine years old, I found out there was going to be a
gymnastics program at the Hames Center. The Hames Center is
a gym for the whole town of Sitka to go and do sport activities.
When I signed up for gymnastics, I had to be on the waiting list. A
couple of days passed, and I got a phone call! It was the gymnastics
coach. She told me that there was a spot open!
It has been about a year since I started gymnastics. During the year,
the program got a spring floor! A spring floor is a big blue foam
mat on top of a ton of springs.
For class one day, we were doing round off drills. A round off is a
cartwheel, but done faster, and with your legs together. The round
off drill I was doing was a round off over a blue and yellow octagon
mat. But I didn’t land my round off – I landed on my ankle. When
I fell, it hurt. It felt like a sharp pain shooting down my leg into my
foot.
I believe that learning from your mistakes is good, so that you can
get back up again but fix what you did wrong.
80 Where Am I?

THIS I BELIEVE
Haley
It was Saturday morning. I was eight years old and it was my first
time babysitting my five-year-old cousin. When it was time for
her bath, I told her to stay in the bathroom for just a few minutes.
Someone was knocking on the door, so I had to answer it. After
that I realized that I had left the stove on, so I turned it off. Then
somebody called my phone so I answered it. I was talking for
at least five minutes. All together it took around ten minutes to
answer the door, turn off the stove, and answer the phone. When
I was done, I went back to the bathroom to check up on my little
cousin.
The door was locked. I told her to open the door, and when she
did the whole place was a mess. There were sponges in the sink and
bath toys thrown in the toilet. And the water was still running!
While I was cleaning up the mess, my little cousin climbed up on
the counter and started to dance since I was playing music.
After all that, I gave her a bath. When we were done, I tried to
change her into a dress, but since she doesn’t like to wear dresses
she started to run up and down the hallway with no clothes on. She
kept on bumping into the walls. Eventually I caught her, after 10
minutes, and put her clothes on.
Then, my mom called my phone and asked how I was doing. I told
her everything that had happened.
I thought that babysitting would be super easy. Now I know that I
need to be more responsible so it’ll be easier on me and the kids.
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THIS I BELIEVE
James
I believe in taking risks. It was 2015 and I was at Water World
with my family. My sister, my brother, and I had been walking all
day, and wanted to do something fun.
My parents took us to a big stadium-looking place. To me, it
looked more like a pool than stadium. The water was bright blue
and the sun was reflecting off it, which made it even brighter.
The stadium was filled with people holding cameras and wearing
ponchos. My sister told me to go to the Splash Zone with her. I
was confused because I did not know what a Splash Zone was, but
I went with her. We asked my brother if he wanted to go, but he
wussed out.
A bunch of kids were gathered around the Splash Zone around the
pool and some adults. Most of the kids looked like 5th graders. My
parents told me we were going to see whales, but throughout this
whole trip I had not seen one whale.
We waited around the Splash Zone until my legs hurt. Then, a lady
walked onto the stage and everyone cheered. The lady said some
things I can’t remember. And then a killer whale came out of the
water and the lady made it do tricks. It splashed me at least five
times. That’s when I figured out why they called it the Splash Zone.
When the show was over, everyone cheered and started filing out. I
was wet when we left, but I was having so much fun. We got myself
some dry things to wear and then we got something to eat.
That day taught me a lesson: take risks. Sometimes taking risks can
make you feel good inside afterwards. Now I take risks more. I rode
a bike down a steep hill in the rain. Once, I went down a really
stepped water coaster. Both of those moments were fun. This is why
I believe in taking risks.
82 Where Am I?

Cross Trail Haiku
SEER School
I’m standing in it.
A big, wet, nasty puddle.
Ew, I fell in it!
– Seren Courtwright
We walk back to school
In the nice warm sun to learn
We all had merriment.
Salmon berry bush
Barren now that it’s cold
Waits for spring to come
White trees everywhere
Water running through the woods
Branches snapping
The trail is silent
Then snap! A person comes ‘round
Squirrels and birds sing.
The caterpillar
Sleeping inside a coop
Like a sleeping bag
– Sam Horner-Raffaele
– Chattam Horner-Raffaele
– Connery Horner-Raffaele
– Jason Olrich
– Angie Olrich
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CROSS TRAIL HAIKU
The river is fast
It brings things down stream really fast
Wish I had a boat
.
– Ben Wentworth
The dog is barking
Loud enough for me to hear
BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK
Bears hibernating
It’s really rainy outdoors
Lightning strikes the trees
In the Forest so quiet
Into landing a tree falls
So sad.
Blue skies peaceful wind
Sitka Alaska
Coming home water
– Carson Horner-Raffaele
– Brannon Horner-Raffaele
– Morgan Hanson
– Jesse Hanson
84 Where Am I?

CROSS TRAIL HAIKU
A little sad bush
Why is it a lonely bush
Because it is fall.
It feels like nature
There’s lots of raindrops on me
Like a waterfall
– Porter Courtwright
– Bradley Walker
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Three Poems
Lena Keilman
I.
I hurt my foot
It looked like a sunset
It wouldn’t be good to eat
But don’t laugh.
Because laughs are EXTREMELY stinky.
II.
The fisherman got a Huge Fish.
The Fish ate the dog.
The Fish made a Jump
But the Jump didn’t sing
But the Jump was so graceful, the Fish was mesmerizing.
III.
The color Gold, shining in my hands,
a beam of sunlight shines through the window,
a lovely dancing skirt,
a tropical bird singing its song,
a cheetah, as fast as the color itself.
A scent of Delilahs in the spring so fresh,
The color of a flame that just can’t go out,
The color of a throne fit for a king.
Lena Keilman is a 4th grade student at Keet Gooshi Heen.
86 Where Am I?

Four Poems
Jasmine Nellis and Olivia Quiggle
I.
Spongebob was a child.
He stepped into a portal.
He is still alive.
II.
Awesome pianos
Like to sing a lot at night.
They will always play.
III.
Bells are loud.
Ells are proud.
Laugh and sing at the church bells.
Laughter peals bananas.
IV.
Once there was a fish and it layed its eggs on a fishbone and the
eggs were too sticky so it broke into pieces. The eggs hatched. And
the fish grew up. The fish layed their eggs on a fish bone and it
starts all over.
Jasmine Nellis and Olivia Quiggle are 3rd grade students at Keet
Gooshi Heen.
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New Words for the English Language
Story Lab Students
Kengoma (n.), the death of a pet.
Meycha (n.), when you cry for no reason.
Yorone (n.). afraid of someone you know that’s nice.
– Seren Courtwright
Ovopllet (v.), to buy mass amounts of things and not use them.
Ocentuaelemaphobia (n.), the fear of the periodic table.
Carokside (n.), someone who reminds you of a book character.
Birappyless (n.), when you get a birthday gift but you don’t know
what it is.
Andathanoyingomus (n.), when a person blurts out algebra facts
when other people in the room are trying to concentrate.
– Jesse Hanson
Caploon (n): a loon with a baseball cap on.
One day, a man wearing a baseball cap walked by a lake with a common
loon in it. Out of nowhere, a baseball came whizzing towards the
man, knocking the baseball cap off the man and onto the loon.
– Rowan Goff
Skoffee (n): coffee with crushed up pieces of skull in it.
There once was a giant. He loved coffee but he thought something was
missing so he took some human skulls, smashed them, and put them in
his coffee. He told his giant friends, and it became known as skoffee.
– Isabel Carter
88 Where Am I?

Surrealist Poems
Inspired by André Breton’s “The Verb to Be”
I know the general outline of love it is hot like Antartica and ant
hills have penguins it is sharp like knives and saws and icicles and
broke arm it hurts like knives and teeth sharp teeth biting onto you
and won’t let go and it hurts tiger teeth sharp and shiny. Wolf stalks
you in the night hunting you like prey to eat love is like dragon it
is shiny with sharp teeth. Ice cream love is like ice cream it tastes
good it burns like fire red fire and demons it has feet and wings like
a hawk in the starry night staring down from above at the oncoming
army marching of in June white guns in hand at the speed of
light silent as ninjas running in the trees on the feathers of birds.
Hello is anyone out there in that dark gloomy forest mist?
– Rowan Goff
I know the general outline of sadness when your pet dies, or when
your mom yells at you. I know the outline of sadness when you
start dying, or your friends start dying. I know the feeling of sadness
when the dryer blows up. I know the feeling of sadness when
you don’t get the kind of pizza you wanted. I know sadness when a
raven flies away, then you’re lonely. I know sadness when you break
both of your legs. I know sadness when you don’t get ice cream and
then throw a tantrum. I know the feeling of sadness when your
computer breaks. I know sadness when your stuffed toy horse gets
ripped to pieces by your puppy. I know sadness when you miss your
child being born. I know sadness when you’re little and at a wedding
and they take the cake away and I don’t understand then start
crying. I know the feeling of sadness when you accidentally kill a
baby bird. I know the feeling of sadness when you have an accident
and then start throwing poop on the wall.
– Isabel Carter
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I know the general outline of fear. Potatoes are very beautiful and
the ceiling smells like claws. Birds are made of French Fries and
water derp. Horses love air conditioning and Slenderman is behind
the tree over there. Cookies are deadly because they’re made of
tablecloths. Bears eat pineapples. I like to torture leaves because
reasons. I’m reading a book about gardening called, Bloody Shrimp
and the author is a television. Derp. An wolf just ate an alligator
and started to fly. He’s a magical pony flying through the sky. Marmite
haircuts. Light bulbs are overrated. This one guy I like eats
human flesh. Fish are evil and they should NOT work at Burger
King. Potatoes have taken over the world. WE are doomed! We
have eaten the Rake as a sacrifice to telescopes. I know the outline
of fear.
– Reagan Young
These writers attend Story Lab’s after school middle school program in
Sitka.
90 Where Am I?

Illuminati Theories
Reagan Young
Ocean Currents
Surface currents: global wind patterns, Coriolis effect, and continental
defliction
Deep currents: temperature, salinity, and density
2 currents, 6 reasons. 6 divided by 2 is 3. What do these numbers
have to do with the Illuminati?Well, I do not know, but I do know
how to find out. What evil shape has three sides? That’s right!
A triangle. This isn’t enough evidence though because we need a
cricle to make the eye. But wait, if you look at a map of the ocean
currents they can look like circles. Now we have our circle. Ocean
currents are Illuminati confirmed.
Starfish
Starfish have five arms. There are two syllables in starfish. Five
minus two is three. We still need our circle, though. How many
mouths do starfish have? Correct, one mouth. Starfish are Illuminati
confirmed.
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Harry Potter
Harry Potter has glasses. His glasses are shaped like circles. Circles
are evil, but who in the Harry Potter books is evil? That’s right!
Voldemort. Voldemort doesn’t have a nose. Noses are shaped like
triangles. Therefore Voldemort can’t be Illuminati. This means he
is probably in Phase which is against the Illuminati. Hmmm. This
isn’t enough evidence to say Harry Potter is Illuminati. Hold on!
I have an idea! Harry Potter is part of the Golden Trio. There are
three people in the Golden Trio. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger,
and Ron Weasley. Three. A triangle has three sides. A triangle abd a
circle make the Illuminati symbol. Do you know what this means?
No? Well, I’ll tell you. Harry Potter is Illuminati confirmed.
92 Where Am I?

Personal Essays
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My Lack of Obsession with Everyone
Else’s Obsession
Jordan McLuckie
“When they get to the slaughterhouse, their hides are caked with manure.
And if the slaughterhouse is slaughtering 400 animals an hour, how do
you keep that manure from getting onto those carcasses?” Food, Inc.
Food, Inc. is fairly traumatizing. It’s the kind of movie that makes
you look at your über healthy boiled chicken dinner and feel like
you are still doing your body a disservice. You can classify survivors
of the movie into one of two categories: those who are initially
horrified, but simply don’t care enough to change their dietary
habits, and those who are initially horrified, and then care so much
they eliminate all meat from their diet entirely, on the grounds of
inhumane activities against animals.
To the dismay of my interrogators, I fall into neither. I am 1/2
rebel, 3/8 climate change activist (don’t tell me you haven’t heard
of farting industry cows contributing to global warming?), and
1/8 health nut. That’s why I became a pescatarian in the 8th grade,
starting with a slice of greasy veggie pizza on a self-dare.
I say self-dare because the idea was conceived, deliberated upon,
and then executed completely by myself. No one egged me on – to
the contrary, my peers begged me not to eat the doughy triangle
topped with reincarnated olives and mushroom fragments. “Don’t
be stupid, Jordan,” they said. “Get meat, like the rest of us. Veggie
is just weird.” However, I laughed, ate it, and returned home, taking
the originally innocent dare a step further: I came back to school a
vegetarian (who eats fish).
Personal gripe: when a classmate comes up to me, enormous triple
bacon-burger topped with industrial grade cheese in hand, and declares,
“I don’t understand why you stopped eating meat. Meat is so
good. I could never live without meat. Don’t you miss it? You want
a bite? C’mon. It tastes sooo good!” As if, after five years of solid
94 Where Am I?

JORDAN MCLUCKIE
abstinence, the individual shoving a cholesterol-packed, carcinogenic
burger in my face will instantly trigger me to cave. It only
serves to remind me how unnecessarily attached people are to this
seemingly irreplaceable food type. A salad isn’t ready until
bacon bits have been sprinkled atop. Delicious vegetable stir fry
requires chicken. And the most famous claim: “A burrito isn’t a
burrito without meat!” Uh. Actually. “Burrito. Noun. Consisting of
a wheat flour tortilla wrapped or folded into a cylindrical shape to
completely enclose the filling.” –Wikipedia
Unbeknownst to me (and then subsequently very quickly beknownst
to me), my dietary choices became The Most Important
News One Has Ever Heard Of, So Please Comment And State
Your Opinion, Because It Is Certainly Your Business. Among
other obnoxious comments, I received such insightful treasures
as, “Did you know water has little bits of meat ground into it?” or
even worse (because I foolishly fell for it) “They grind pig hooves
into applesauce, ya know!” Right after my controversial decision, a
high-schooler bet me 20 dollars I wouldn’t last the year. Collectively,
I got more crap about being a pescatarian than the cow(s) in
question pooped out in their lifetimes. My decision is completely
contained, affecting no one but myself. Yet, to this day, the obsession
with my lack of meat-related obsession refuses to abate, a
situation that continues to perplex me.
All things considered, becoming pescatarian was pretty radical,
since I live in Alaska, with its subsistence culture and connection to
meat as a main source of food.
So why?
I was in middle school. No, it’s not quite the glorious “save the
animals!” campaign everyone assumes. I just wanted to differentiate
myself. I wanted to test myself. I’d always been surprised, and then
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LACK OF OBSESSION
disgusted, by the obsession with mammal meat, but was it possible
to commit to a no-meat-besides-fish lifestyle? I wanted to see what
exactly I was capable of. Some kids do drugs. Some have sex. Some
play Rock and Roll. I became a pescatarian.
So I’ll answer the question almost every student here has asked
at least twice, “When will you eat meat again? Don’t you miss it?”
Nope. To both. Just so happens, I’m pretty satisfied with my decision.
Are your questions satiated?
By the way, I’m still waiting on those 20 dollars . . .
Jordan McLuckie is a junior at Hoonah High School.
96 Where Am I?

At the BAR: Big A** Rock
Denver Evans
“Annie, take this and find Mom, I’ll catch whatever floats by. And
you! Start a fire, get sleeping bags, and warm clothes,” Danny, my
cousin, younger than me by two years, filled the shoes of a leader in
those very seconds.
Proudly, I stared on, watching him wade out in the freezing Big
Salmon river, snatching floating objects. Meanwhile his sister, a
flash of red hair and rope, sprinted to the water’s edge, a worried
pup loping after her. Adrenaline pumping and instincts I knew
were there but never saw kicked into gear, pushing me toward
our beached canoe, ripping open bags and stuffing a lighter in my
lifejacket.
Thorn bushes, uneven ground, thick firs. This is what I had to work
with. First, I brought out my inner herd of tusked leather, tromping
through the bushes, scraping my bare calves in the process. Pine
needles crunched under my toes, finalizing my decision not to start
a fire. While doing this, I communicated with Danny, telling him
that starting a forest fire was not on my agenda, no matter how
mad he would be at me later. He leaped out onto a sandbar, sinking
both his leg and his hopes of a fire on the sands.
We heard hollering down the bank, jerking both of our heads in
the direction. Danny flung himself into a sprint, pushing back roses
as he tried to help his mom, who was pinned between the warped
canoe and the later to be named, “Big A** Rock”. Like a good duck
hound, she grabbed the SPOT device, our only lifeline of communication
outside the river. Annie threw a paddle, tied to a rope,
at the water-¬unconfident lady, praying to reel her in. Hudson, a
dorky Yukon mutt charged at the water, determined to rescue his
new mama. Thankfully, Annie grabbed his scruff and threw him
back before he leaped into the rushing current.
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AT THE BAR
An agonizing twenty minutes later, Dorothy and Jeff were out of
the water, in dry clothes and huddled in sleeping bags, clinging
toany sign of warmth they could find. She hugged me, honoring
my decision against a fire. We tended to the parents, checking their
vitals, making sure they didn’t enter hypothermia’s greedy open
arms. I stretched my tense muscles, peering out of the clearing to
the racing water that could have been their death.
A blue, oblong object drifted past, quietly as if trying to slip by
enemy borders. I whispered, not finding my voice. Jeff perked up,
seeking what I saw and took off down a game trail conveniently
placed along the bank. Avoiding eye¬-jabbing sticks, we found
the boat hung up on a tree, on our side of the river, a blessing as
the river was moving fast and curved around opposite to us. Tying
the bow¬line to a branch, we sluggishly made out way back to the
warmth of camp.
After resting, and feasting on tiny fajitas with avocado cooked over
a soggy Coleman stove, Danny and Annie lowered themselves
into the freezing water again, hoisting bags up the bank where
Dorothy, Jeff, and I brought them to camp. Everything in dry bags,
including an expensive camera, was soaked. We tossed half of our
food (cereal, a box of rice, three loaves of bread, all of the crackers,
cookies, the GORP makings) into the river as it were too saturated
to salvage. You’re welcome, Mama Merganser and ducklings. Our
living area was crowded, with our clothing, blankets, and books
hung on trees to dry, tarps set up over the stove, and our tent laying
awkwardly on a steep decline toward the water, a log resting at the
door.
Although the day was rough, and everyone was utterly exhausted,
as we lay in the single tent, all four of us (Annie slept outside incase
help came), giggling at the young pup who growled and
98 Where Am I?

DENVER EVANS
screamed at his own echo, who yelled back from the Yosemite-like mountains.
During the two days, I finished two books, filling my time by building
knowledge and taking myself to distant places, instead of worrying about
when we would get help. Jeff pressed the help button on our SPOT, hoping
my mom was keeping up with the emails of our route and would send
someone to find us.
Reading a crime book, I could almost hear the chopper, looking for the
convict who rushed through the bushes. However, when Dorothy shot up,
squeezing her way through the tent door, I knew I wasn’t imagining it.
Earlier that day, we heard two motors, peaking out excitement only to be let
down each time. But a beautiful sight unfolded, as a pink helicopter rounded
the corner and landed delicately on the rocky beach across the water. He
stood, hands in his pockets, corresponding with the adults about what to do.
He couldn’t land the helicopter any closer to us. Crossing the river was the
only way to reach him. Jeff made the executive decision to try and fish his
brand¬new racer out. Danny and Annie once again found themselves in the
water, shifting the boat loose, and pulling it up the river. “Oh, wow. You’re
brave!” he yelled over the roaring waters, walking easily to his vehicle. He
dropped the box of MREs as well as a satellite phone before lifting off.
When the chopper had gone, and the boat was overturned on the bank, we
assessed the damage: one large crack, as well as holes in both the bow and
the stern. Each of us, armed with metal cups, walked through the woods,
scraping sap or pitch, off large pine trees. Dorothy quickly heated it, stirring
it so it wouldn’t create a flame. Next, she rushed to the boat, spreading the
goop along the cracks and holes, slapping Gorilla tape on top of the patch.
When the boat was buoyant again, we feasted on granola bars until the boat
was dried. When it stayed floating after the supplies were strapped in, they
gingerly lowered themselves into the boat, and pushed off shore. Once they
had out new phone and food, we, Danny, Annie, Hudson and I nestled
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AT THE BAR
down in our boat, pushing out of the mud and into the current. Our worries
were far from over, and this was not the last time hitting rocks, but as we
watched four river otters dance and glide through the water, we laughed and
cried as were drifted slowly down the river toward safety, toward home.
Denver Evans is an 11th grade student from Skagway City School.
100 Where Am I?

Small Sparks
Jing O’Brien
“Look, I’m bleeding,” I say, squishing the blueberry in my palm.
Purple lips part, revealing purple baby teeth, as my sister laughs
and crushes her own handful. “Me too, see?” she says. Juices trickle
down her arm like a stream after new rain. “Girls, have you filled
your bowls yet?” my mother calls from the house. I blink as I look
down at our empty bowls. Three berries fall from my sister’s hand,
each singing a short tune as they collide with the sunkissed metal.
“Now we do,” she whispers. We smirk at our own cleverness, a
master plan of rebellion in my five-year-old mind. I skip towards a
nearby bush. I stick out my short arm, straining to reach a fat berry.
My sister follows, her small shadow dancing behind her, our feet
toeing the edge of the creekbed. The branch snaps--we fall. The
six foot ditch buries us in it’s depths. I get to my feet, unscathed,
but muddy. Panic courses through my body as I realize I can’t
climb out. I’m dying, the first thought in my overdramatic mind.
As imagination takes flight, I start to cry, hot tears running down
my face, leaving muddy trails. “Don’t be scared, we’ll get out, some
how,” my younger sister whispers, as she grasps my muddy hand in
her own.
The cold bites my face as I stare down the snowy slope. Legs shake
with anticipation. Shivers inch up my spine that have nothing to
do with the cold. “Ready?” my dad smiles, his eyes dancing with
amusement. I brush frosty hair from my face, swallowing fear down
my throat. “Of course,” I scoff, too young and daring to admit
fear. Carefully I position myself, taking a deep breath of the icy
air. Snowflakes fall, melting when they hit my face. I shove my ski
poles into the white ground, push off and fly down the hill. Faster
and faster, the bleached land a blur of winter wonder. I laugh.
A blur of red streaks through the bushes weaving a complex pattern
throughout the evergreens. The crashing of bushes follows the
German Shepherd as it lunges after the chicken, dewdrops clinging
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SMALL SPARKS
to the dog’s sleek fur. The chicken stops in the middle of the yard, its feathers
fluffed in irritation. The dog casts a shadow over the chicken. As its pink
tongue hangs out, the shepherd’s tail wags slowly back and forth, a hunter
assessing its prey. The chicken stands its ground, clucks nervously, but refuses
to run. The dog lunges and the chicken attacks. Feathers fly--a tornado of
crimson and black. The dog yelps and dashes away.
These memories are small, insignificant chapters in my life. They were not
about women fighting for their rights or a soldier’s sacrifice, but each held
a glimmer of courage, a small spark in the shadow of fear. And maybe this
is what the world needs to remember. Courage does not always have to be
raging flames; a small spark can still light up shadows.
Jing O’Brien is an 8th grade student at Wrangell Middle School.
102 Where Am I?

The First Fish
Molly Melnick
It was a cold December day. The air was frosty and I could see my breath.
Indian River roared in my ears, mixed with the sound of fish fins slicing
through the water for barely a moment before dipping back in. My dad
stood a little ways from me casting his fly rod in and out, his line slicing
through the air causing droplets of water to hang glimmering in the air for a
moment before falling to the ground. The sky was streaked with orange and
pink clouds, the sun setting in the distance. The smell of fish and crisp air
hung in my nose. I could feel the cold slowly creeping up on me and I was
ready to go home and eat.
“Dad, how many so far?” I asked.
“About four. Five, if you count the one I caught but didn’t land,” he replied.
“How are you catching so many? I have been fishing the same spots you did
but none are biting!”
I was beginning to get agitated. The river was cold and I was swarmed with
mosquitos trying desperately to eat me alive. On top of that I hadn’t caught
a single fish!
“Well, I got some new fly hooks and the fish seem to like them,” my dad
answered calmly.
He cast out neatly, just barely missing the tree tops. He was a skilled flyfisher
though he was only a beginner.
“Do you think I could try using your fly-rod Daddy?” I asked sweetly, hoping
to persuade him to let me us his precious fly-rod.
“Sure, princess. Do you know how to use it?”
“Well… no.”
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MOLLY MELNICK
“Here let me show you. You put your hand here,” he guided my hand to
thebottom of the rod.
“Loop the line and pull it back. Now whip the rod back with your wrist and
let the string go.” He demonstrated for me then let me try it.
“Don’t move your arm, just your wrist. Now whip it forward using the same
control. You got it! Okay, now repeat.” I was slowly starting to get it. I could
feel myself getting into a rhythm.
“Watch the bush! Good! Okay, let the fly float for a while now!”
My dad was a good teacher. He talked to me in a patient voice and gently
guided me through the motions until I got it. He smelled like Old Spice
and cinnamon and his deep rumbling voice was soothing. We had been fishing
together a lot lately, me and my dad. His father had just passed away and
the whole family missed him a lot. I think we both felt especially close to
grandpahim when we were fishing so we liked to go out together.
“Is this right? I think I’m doing it!” I asked, trying to distract myself from
the feeling of sadness that was slowly creeping up on me.
“You’re getting it!” My dad shouted back over the roar of the river.
I sensed some sadness in that one sentence. I knew exactly what he was
thinking about. I was determined to catch a fish just to take both of our
minds off the pain. Suddenly I felt a tug at the end if the line.
“DAD! I THINK I HAVE ONE! HOW DO I REEL THIS THING
IN?” I was shouting in joy desperately clinging on to the shaking pole.
“Pull the line back. Reel! There you go!”
I followed his instructions and felt a swell of pride as I finally landed the
Dolly Varden.
104 Where Am I?

THE FIRST FISH
“I got one! My first fish from a fly-rod!”
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” My dad said.
“Daddy?” I asked.
“Yes?” he answered as he distractedly untangled the fish from the line and let
it back into the river.
“My feet are cold.”
I was also hungry and covered in mosquito bites but I kept quiet.
“Let’s stay out for five more minutes,” he said.
“Okay.”
I felt a surge of love for my brave dad and I thought about how much I
loved him and how much I would miss him if he was gone.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, bear.”
After fishing we hiked back to the car in silence. He held my hand warming
it with his touch.
Molly Melnick is a 7th grade student at Blatchley Middle School.
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Where Would I Be Knowing the
Trista
I have so many questions as to why certain things have happened, or how
it has affected me to be the person I am today. My life gets really complicated
for me to handle to the point where I could care less if I didn’t have a
life. I feel like this because I reflect so much on the past that I can’t let it go
and I have all these emotions built up in me that I feel the need to say and
let go. To this day I think “why” is my biggest question, or why did you do
this, why did this happen. Where would I be in life if I didn’t have so many
questions? When I was young, the one person who is supposed to love me
the most just leaves. To know this makes me feel unworthy and not good
enough. I tend to push people away and start to isolate myself from social
gatherings or anything. By not being as social as most people, it’s harder for
me to get up and speak in front of a big group of students.
I have people come up to me asked me about my birth mother and I have
no idea what to say because I don’t even know what happened. What did
I do wrong or was she too addicted to the idea of drinking alcohol. I don’t
think I’ll ever know why. I’ve had someone say to me “I bet your mother
never even loved you,” and to hear those words I thought to myself, you’re
probably right and another part of me thought less of me and went back
to feeling of unworthy. I’ve tried saying my feelings but I shut down. I’ve
found that I’m guarded towards my friends and I don’t tell them a lot about
me or my family. And I think this situation is part as to why I’m guarded
towards certain people and how I don’t open up and let people in. However,
I’ve found that expressing my feelings in writing is easier. And I feel like I
want to say something on how I feel but there’s a part of me that’s afraid of
what people might say or me being wrong on how I feel. I always feel that
people may judge me for what I have to say and this shouldn’t be a big deal;
however, in this situation it is a big deal and I do take it hard. It may seem
like nothing is wrong but deep down everything is wrong and I have so
many questions.
In order for me to move on from this, I need answers but I don’t know if I’ll
ever get answers as to why she left. I have had other people try to answer my
question but it’s not the answer I want and it’s not the right one. Where do
106 Where Am I?

TRISTA ELIXMAN
I go from here? Do I go look and find answers or do I try and let it go and
move on with my life. I feel like if I find answers I can move on and forget
about it. I already know that if I do get answers I’m not going to like what
they are. Would I be a better me or would I fall into the wrong path because
of the answers I received. Where would I be knowing the reasons?
Trista Elixman is a junior at Sitka High School.
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One-Act Plays
108 Where Am I?

A Stuffed Opinion
Debbie Yearwood
(The scene opens to three stuffed animals sitting on an oversized bed
taller than them. There’s a purple bear who acts extremely cranky yet obviously
cares about his owner, Lily a lot. He’s definitely the oldest of the
bears. There’s a pink bear with a loving motherly personality, very young
sounding. And there’s a green bear with glasses who seems rather intelligent.
He’s also very nosy and knows everything going on with Lily. The
bed sits downstage center and is the only prop on stage. The bed, which is
large enough to walk across, is illuminated by a single spotlight.)
JERRY: (the purple bear) Damn, midnight already, where the hell is
Lily?
THEA: (the pink bear) Maybe she’s spending the night at Jenny’s
again.
TED: (the green bear with glasses) Jenny is in Chicago with Dez,
Emi is at Joe’s place for the weekend, and Lea has been, and I
quote, “a no good, two faced, liar who can’t keep her pants on even
if her belts had belts.” So I conclude that considering her current
situation, Lily isn’t with any of her female companions tonight.
JERRY: Where the hell is she then? I’m not going to bed until I
can get my hug goodnight. It’s just not happening.
TED: Well considering the recent phone calls she has been making,
the nonstop texting, and the journal entries she’s been writing,
I’m 93% sure she’s at Nicks place.
THEA: Ooh I love Nick! Remember he bought this new dress for
me after Lily introduced us! Grade A bùîld-á-béàr (Pronounced
in the most posh way possible, as if talking about a famous French
brand)
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A STUFFED OPINION
JERRY: I remember him; he brought flowers for Mom.
THEA: Very sweet boy.
TED: Better than Tommy.
JERRY: Uhh, don’t remind me. He was the worst! And considering
the assholes Lily’s dated, that’s saying something.
THEA: What was it like, Jerry? Like before Ted and I moved in.
TED: We only missed kindergarten and first grade.
JERRY: True, but I don’t know man, there’s something about
kindergarten. The brand new sunset pink sundress from target that
still hangs a little too loose on her. The first glittery princess backpack
she got just because it has Belle on it. She was so scared she
brought me with her. And she didn’t let go of me until we were safe
back home again. Back then she would hug me goodnight every
day. Now I’m lucky to see her before midnight.
THEA: Remember middle school? She came to us crying every
day. She would talk to us for hours and then joke that she was
probably crazy because we would never understand. That was the
saddest day of my life, because I truly did.
TED: Or that time two years ago when she fell asleep doing math
and I finished it for her. Matched her handwriting and everything.
Impressive work if I do say so myself. She was confused as hell
though.
JERRY: Yeah that was cool, I guess. Then all those guys showed up.
THEA: Oh my remember Tommy and how he tried to get Lily to
take Adderall so she could focus more? Oh we were so angry that
110 Where Am I?

DEBBIE YEARWOOD
we waited until Lily had left the room to all fall off the bed at once.
Scared the life out of his doped up head. Taught Lily a lesson about
drugs too.
JERRY: Sure Tommy was bad, but remember Seth? God those two
got it o--
THEA: [Covering her ears] I remember, don’t remind me.
TED: I remember the positive test results. A few days later she
came back and cried for hours. Still no baby so I guess she--
THEA: [Again, but obviously more upset] I remember, don’t remind
me.
JERRY: I remember when she started coming home drunk all the
time
THEA: I remember the smokes. She’d start off each day with a
new pack, and always come home with the last one around her lips.
TED: I remember the knife...and the note.
[All go silent for a long time.]
JERRY: I remember her putting the knife away.
THEA: I remember her taking us in the car with her on her way to
therapy.
TED: I remember her graduation...I admit, she looked beautiful.
THEA: Her dark circles were gone.
JERRY: Her smile was back.
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A STUFFED OPINION
TED: Seth was gone.
JERRY: Her smile was back.
THEA: But then college started up.
JERRY: And she started losing sleep again.
THEA: [Kind of protectively] But this time she had Nick.
JERRY: Not this again.
TED: No, Thea has a point. Lily’s like a new person now that Nick
is around.
JERRY: I’m not so sure.
THEA: C’mon Jerry, think about it. Her grades are above D’s.
When she is home, she’s asleep by midnight at the latest. She’s
even stopped bringing random dudes home. She looks happy again.
JERRY: [Jerry thinks this over. Then admittedly] I haven’t really seen
a smile like that since kindergarten.
TED: Exactly! I think Nick’s a major reason why she’s been doing
so well.
THEA: [Dreamily] He listens to her opinion.
TED: [Surprisingly dreamy as well] He brings her flowers.
THEA: He takes her to dinner every Friday.
TED: He respects her personal space.
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DEBBIE YEARWOOD
THEA: [Holding her nose. Nasally she adds] He doesn’t smell gross.
TED: [Covering his eyes] He doesn’t look gross. [He then bumps into
Jerry who takes a swing and misses]
THEA: [Observing the bears’ behavior and laughing] He doesn’t
even act gross.
JERRY: [Sarcastic and agitated] I get it, he’s perfect for her!
TED: But scientifically speaking, he is. Excuse me if I’m wrong,
but are you sure you don’t like Nick for the right reasons? Or are
you just afraid of losing her?
JERRY: I’m not going to listen to this nonsense!
THEA: Ted has a point, Jerry! Maybe you’re too afraid of her growing
up?
JERRY: I’m not afraid of her growing up! If I was, we would have
been having this conversation back in high school when she grew
up too fast! For Christ’s sake she was pregnant at 17! That followed
by the termination is enough to make anyone grow up too fast. But
no, she had to deal with the bullying and the lying! The pressure of
school, and the pressure of her peers! She stopped being my child,
the day she went to Kindergarten. From that day forward, it’s been
up to her teachers, her parents, and her friends to watch over her
because I can’t leave this bed. And yeah maybe that’s why I’m always
pissed off. Because I can’t be there to protect her anymore. Because
I have to trust that Nick won’t turn out like Tommy and Seth, and
Sam. I have to trust that Jenny and Emi and Leah will always be
there to support her because I can’t. I had to stop talking to her the
day she entered kindergarten, because that was the day I realized that
she was going to have to grow up, and if she wanted to live a sane
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A STUFFED OPINION
and healthy life, she was going to have to detach from us bears. But
here I am, 23 years later, with a cute pink teddy and a smartass green
companion on either side of me, sitting on the same bed spread Lily
has had for years. Here I am 23 years later, still listening, still watching,
and still living through her life. But that will never be enough
because Lily is human, and I am a toy. She requires a response, an
action, a suggestion! All of which I can’t do…But Nick can. So until
I know that Nick will be able to do all of the things I can’t and more,
I will not approve of him.
THEA: [Surprisingly upset] We’ve all had to watch her in silence,
Jerry. If you honestly think you’re the only one who struggles with
the fact that you can’t talk to the one person you love then you’re
wrong! We all love her just the same, we’re a family, but sooner or
later we’re going to have to just trust that she’ll make the right decisions
on her own.
TED: This may sound strange coming from me, but we need to
stop anticipating another fall. Sometimes we need to have faith in
the unpredictable! We can continue to wait for the day she stumbles
through that door again with vodka dancing on her breath and a boy
who doesn’t know the beauty of her first name. We can continue to
wait for the day where we’re packed up in Goodwill boxes by her
roommate, the day she never even makes it to her front door again.
We can continue sitting on this bed doing the same thing we do
every Saturday or we can mix it up and have faith for once!
THEA: Maybe, Jerry, it’s time to give a little trust. Maybe Nick is
good for her, maybe he’s not. But as of right now Lily is happy and
healthy and alive! A year without incident is more than impressive,
it’s a sign of progress.
JERRY: [Quietly under his breath] And progress means she’s growing
up. Maybe [Takes a deep breath]…Maybe we all have a
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DEBBIE YEARWOOD
little growing up to do. I say we all get tucked into bed now, we’ll
see Lily when she gets here.
TED: My predictions say we should definitely by 100% be doing
exactly that.
THEA: Ooh! I’ll even wear the fancy silk jammies nick bought
me...as a sign of acceptance of course. [THEA looks at JERRY who
has slipped into his usual ratty old t-shirt.]
TED: Dont mind me. I’m a man of tradition.
One by one the bears climb under the covers of the bed, amusingly only
taking up about one corner. TED is on the far left followed by THEA
in the middle and JERRY on her right side. TED reaches out and
slowly grabs THEA’s hand. With this, THEA extends her other hand to
JERRY and there is a long pause as he contemplates this over. Finally,
after a long silence, he too grabs her hand.
JERRY: [Warily] Um maybe we should actually probably wait.
We’ve waited this--
THEA: [Assuringly interrupts] -- She’s our strong girl.
TED: She’ll be home in no time, Jerry. Get some sleep.
JERRY: Yeah...you’re right. She’ll be just fine.
Debbie Yearwood is a senior at Sitka High School.
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My Addiction
Kelsey Thein
Cast of Characters
ROSE – A seventeen year old girl that loves gaming and anything
creative. She has a tough and sassy personality but is still very kind.
(Typical video game loving teenage girl; High Ponytail, hoodie, and
jeans or sweats)
MOM – A lady in her early thirties. Is a little strict and sarcastic
with Rose. Yet is still caring and motherly. (Typical Mother;Hair in
a low ponytail, wears an apron and regular tee and sweats.)
DAD – A laid back and kind man in his mid thirties. He often
stays out of fights and loves teasing his wife and daughter. (Typical
male character; Preferably with stubble or facial hair)
FOXY FNAF1- Based on the animatronic pirate fox from the
game Five Nights at Freddie’s. (Must have red hair and speak in a
pirate accent)
AMY ROSE- Based on the games/TV show Sonic Boom, is a
high spirited anthropomorphic pink hedgehog.
LINK- Based on the popular character from The Legend of Zelda
series of video games. (Preferably the Twilight Princess version)
Has dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and a green hat. He is kind but not
afraid to speak his mind.
ACT I: Scene I
SETTING: In a darkly lit kitchen, Mom and Rose are facing each
other. Mom looks peeved.
MOM: You’re addicted, Rose.
ROSE: Am I really addicted?
ROSE walks across stage, to her room, to think. There is a bed in far
right corner, desk, and a TV along with game consoles on the far left.
ROSE: It is all I think about when my mind wanders. I long for it
once my work is complete and my responsibilities have been met. It
116 Where Am I?

KELSEY THEIN
entertains and distracts me, yes... Is it really that bad?
ROSE paces around her room.
ROSE: Why is it considered an ADDICTION? It is merely my
interest. Addiction is to cigarettes, alcohol or even that idiotic crossdressing
singer Justin Bieber. Video gamesAddictions are harmful
and a waste of time. It helps me be happy and myself. Why can’t I
enjoy it? My grades are fine. I have never touched a single cigarette
without distaste, or even gotten close to any drugs. So why call it an
addiction? I can survive just fine without it! I’ll show her I am not
addicted!
ROSE crosses the stage, into the kitchen, where MOM stands at the stove.
ROSE: I am not addicted and I’ll prove it! I’ll go the whole night
without it.
MOM: You won’t last an hour.
MOM chuckles and turns around and faces her daughter.
MOM turns and go back to her work.
ROSE: I’ll show you. I’ll go the rest of the night without a single
video game!
ROSE returns to her room. She takes a textbook in her lap, and begins to
read.
ROSE:This is easy! I just finished my homework dinner will be done
in a couple of hours. I’ll just find a way to pass the time!
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MY ADDICTION
ROSE flops onto her bed while staring at the ceiling thinking of something
to do.
ROSE: Ahh I got it! I’ll just sketch. That always distracts me!
ROSE reaches towards her sketchpad and pencils.
ROSE: Maybe a flower... I still need to work on my nature sketch,
not just people... Huh?
ROSE looks down at her sketchpad. She had drawn a black and white
sketch of her favorite video game character Link in high detail.
ROSE: What the?!
ROSE looks at her sketch and remembers something.
ROSE: That’s right. I’m so close to beating Majora’s Mask!
ROSE reaches for her 3DS XL on her desk.
ROSE: Oh, no, no, no, no! I can handle going without a video game
for the rest of the night.
MOM
Dinner, Rose!
ROSE
Perfect timing!
ROSE heads towards the dining room, center stage, where there is a
single table with three chairs. DAD sits on the right. ROSE sits beside
her dad.
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KELSEY THEIN
DAD
It’s nice to have dinner with you, Rose. You always just grab a plate
then head to your room to play while you eat. [Smiles.]
ROSE
Well, I want to prove that videogames are not an addiction and I
can go along just fine without them.
ROSE huffs and crosses her arms over chest. DAD laughs. MOM walks
in with a giant pot full of spaghetti and places it on the table right next
to a basket of garlic bread. MOM heaps a pile of spaghetti on ROSE’s
plate.
MOM
Eat up, everyone.
ROSE looks at her food and is about to dig in when she has a thought.
ROSE
[Aside.] Spaghetti... That’s Mario’s favorite food! She planned this!
MOM
So, Rose, how’s your no video games for the night going?
ROSE
Just fine. I haven’t the slightest urge to play any of my games.
MOM
Is that so. Then what about a new game?
ROSE
[Aside.] Damn! She knows how much I love a brand new game!
Okay, okay, just play it cool… What kind of game.
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MY ADDICTION
MOM
Oh, nothing much. Just the new Zelda Hyrule Warriors you’ve
been saving up for. Yes, I saw it grocery shopping and thought
you’d love it so I got it for you. How much have you saved for it
again dear?
ROSE
Thirty-three dollars, and fifty cents.
ROSE stares at the piece of garlic bread she has crumbled in her hands.
DAD chuckles awkwardly.
DAD
Whoa, that quite a lot of saving, Rose! I was wondering why you
weren’t eating so much junk lately.
DAD rustles ROSE’S hair.
MOM
[Aside.] She did work hard around the house to get that money.
She even washed the dishes more than once a week. Maybe I
shouldn’t tease her so much.
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KELSEY THEIN
MOM scoops a little mayo into her spaghetti and stirs.
MOM
[Aside.] I can remember how depressed rose was when they moved
from their busy lives in the city. She even got a job to keep her
mind off everything she was missing. Then how happy she was
once they surprised her with a WiiU for doing such a good job in
school [laughs lightly]. How her eyes always lit up whenever she saw
a new game commercial on T.V. Yes, it also kept her from going out
on dates and friends at school. But, it could be worse. [Sighs deeply,
she glances at her daughter looking like she’s very nonchalant about her
mother’s teasing.] Maybe it really isn’t an addiction she seems fine.
ROSE
Okay, it’s been three hours. I can do this.
ROSE enters the kitchen, looks towards a counter to see a laptop with a
colorful screen.
ROSE
Five Nights at Freddy’s 4 up and ready to go! I’ve been waiting for
Scott to start the newest version! Mom must have saw it when I
was in my room and brought it out to tease me.
ROSE stomps away to her bedroom. She flops onto her bed.
FOXY FNA1, AMY ROSE, and LINK enter and sit around her.
Foxy FNAF1
Aye, lass! Don’t you love us anymore? It’s been days since ye played
with our crew!
ROSE
No, Foxy. I just need to go another twenty one hours. Then I can
play with you to my heart’s content!
AMY ROSE
What about me Rose? You still haven’t helped Sonic and the gang
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MY ADDICTION
save me from Lyric.
LINK
Or help me defeat the Majora.
ROSE
I’m sorry, everyone! I need to wait another twenty hours before I
can!
LINK
Why not, Rose?
ROSE
I’m trying to prove to Mom I’m not addicted to video games!
AMY ROSE
Is that really a bad thing?
FOXY FNAF1
Ye see, lassie? Ye could be guzzling rum and partying like that lubber
of a friend of yars!
ROSE
Marie? She’s not so bad.
LINK
Rose. How many times has she ditched you to go to a rave?!
AMY ROSE
Or anytime her “just-a-friend” Jason needs some attention.
FOXY FNAF1
Aye them coves are just a bunch of three sheets to the wind. Son of
a biscuit eaters! Ye see, lassie. There are far be worse addictions ye
mum should be worried about. Do ye have good grades?
ROSE
Yes...
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KELSEY THEIN
LINK
Do you still cut yourself?
ROSE
No...
AMY ROSE
Are you happy when you spend time with us?
ROSE
Yes, I love playing video games. I can be whoever or whatever I
want. I can be a hero that saves the day no matter what foe’s I face.
I can be stronger both body and soul. I can be who I really am and
not worry about anyone or anything. I need video games so I can
be more than I could ever hope. I can soar and explore when in
reality there are so many limits.
AMY ROSE
That’s right, Rose. We’ve been there for you then and we’ll always
be here if you need us. As long as you keep your head clear and
know who you are, you shouldn’t beat yourself up to when you need
comfort.
Foxy FNAF1
Aye, lassie. Don’t be ashamed ye enjoy to have a shanty with us
every now and again. [Rustles her hair] Ye ain’t hurting anyone an’
ye ain’t hurting yourself.
LINK
So what if you like to play games? It’s what makes you, you addiction
or not. [Grins]
ROSE
You guys are right... So what if mom thinks it’s an addiction? It’s
who I am. Now how bout we start by saving miss Amy?
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MY ADDICTION
ROSE walks towards her 3DS XL, picks it up, and sits on bed to play Sonic
Boom. FOXY FNAF1, AMY ROSE, and LINK hide under her bed.
MOM
Rose? I thought you were not going to play for the rest of the night.
ROSE
I realized there is nothing wrong with wanting to play video games every
now and then. As long as I stay on top of my grades and job... I think I don’t
mind if you call it an addiction.
MOM
Alright, Rose. I honestly don’t mind, dear. As long as you are not harming
yourself or anyone I’m happy. I’m sorry for all my teasing, dear.
MOM gives her daughter the new game and pecks her forehead.
ROSE
It’s alright mom. Love ya. MOM walks out of the room.
ROSE smiles to herself. FOXY FNA1, AMY ROSE, and LINK reappear and sit
around her, smiling.
ROSE
I am addicted. So what?
Kelsey Thein is a junior at Hoonah High School.
124 Where Am I?

Sitka Story Lab is a free creative writing and storytelling
program for students ages 5-19. In Sitka, we run inschool
workshops and an after school program during
the school year.
Call (907) 747-3794, visit sitkastorylab.org, or drop by
our office at 304 Baranof Street if:
- You’re a student and want to know more about our
free after school program,
- You’re a student and want to be published in our next
anthology,
- You’re a teacher and want free in-school workshops
with Story Lab,
- You want to volunteer for Story Lab or the Island Institute,
which ranges from co-teaching classes to handmaking
books.
Mail donations to:
The Island Institute
P.O. Box 2420
Sitka, AK 99835
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