She Emerged Emily Buchsbaum She emerges from the depths of her sadness. She fell Fell Fell Fell Far. But, now was her time to pick up the pieces. Every day someone finds a way to go out of their way to hurt another. And she felt the most impact. Unwitting she emerged stronger. Kindness is not done for pride or prize, it is done for the knowledge that someone else's life got easier. She could read people like a book. Wanting to finish so quickly but oh so many words there were. She emerged stronger. She emerged changed. Photo by Marlo Gordon
Tarek Essryn by Maggie Ho Tai Bopper the Dragon by Linnea Barrachin
Second Best By Jill Warnke It wasn’t fair. Why did s he get everything? Why did s he get their praise? Their gifts, their smiles? What made m e always second? No matter where it was, or who it was. She was always first best. The top of the class. The pride and joy of everyone. You know, I thought this time... it could change. Call me a dumb or naive. But I did. I stood there, giddy as my hands held up the gold trophy and all its glory. I was grinning wildly. I was so happy I had won. I was so proud and it was so elating when everyone clapped. I hopped off the stage and ran to my friends, my feet pounding and my smile infinite. “Hey guys, look! I wa-” I stopped short. There she was. Still being cheered on by everyone. “Don’t worry. You did your best! You were my favorite anyways.” One girl nudged her, winking with joy-filled eyes. I looked at my parents. Their attention was on h er, delight in their expressions. I looked at my friends. Their gazes were on h er, admiration so obvious and clear. “Is she okay? She did well!” I tried to say. No one reacted. They were all focused on her. I doubt anyone even noticed I won. They probably all clapped and ushered her to go on with her third-to-last place loss. I stared at the floor. My vision became a blur. My hands lowered my trophy. Why couldn’t I get that attention? I walked past everyone and then I was outside of the building. Not a single person took notice of my absence. I walked down the stairs and took a seat on the last one. The gold idol was clenched in my hands as a glistening drop of water fell from my cheek and onto the smooth surface. I sat alone outside when I should have been laughing with everyone inside. The door creaked open and the warm air from inside flew against my back. Someone was here. I could sense their hesitation. They soon walk down and sit next to me on the step. I knew who it was before I saw them. Only they would check on me. “Another nightmare?” He asked. I glanced over to him. My only friend here. “Yeah…” I replied. My name is Eularia Harper. I do my best to keep my fears from everyone else. Especially one. The fear of being forgotten. My dreams are where I am and forever will be… Second best to her.
Can You Tell Me a Story? By: Charlotte Fuchs The sky is inky black except for the flashes of lightning that explodes the sky like a light show, with a roar of thunder following it. When the heavy rain hits the ground, it sounds like bullets. Branches fall into the middle of the road and dirt flies around on the wind, dirtying the once-white houses. Nothing on the block lays untouched by the storm. At the end of the road, there is a house that once looked exactly the same as all the others. Now, the green window pains lay broken and splintered on the ground. Inside,on the top floor of the house there is a young girl, not much older than 7 or 8, curled up on her bed, wrapped in the quilt her grandmother made for her 5th birthday, jumping at every blast of thunder. Her father sits in a chair next to her, not knowing what to do about his terrified daughter in the corner. “Papa?” she asks him quietly, her small voice barely heard above the storm. “When will the storm end?” The father looks at her, unsure about what to say. In the end, he says the truth. “I don’t know.” The girl nods and throws her blanket over her head, so it is like she is in a den, ready to be there for a long time. “I’m scared.” she tells her father from the blanket. The father doesn't know what to say. What could he do? He cannot stop the storm. “I have an Idea.” he finally says. “Get up. Let’s do things to distract us. What do you want to do? Paint? Cook? Play a game?” The girl poke her head out of the blanket, her wide brown eyes welling up with tears. “ Can you tell me a story?” she whispers through the thunder. “A story?” the father asks, surprised. The girl nodes.
The father leans back in his chair. What type of story will he tell? A million ideas rush to his mind. “I have so many stories,” he tells her daughter. “I don't know which one to tell.” The daughter thinks for a second. “Then” she says “tell them all.” The father smiles, happy he found a way to distract her. He walks over to her and puts one arm around her. And he begins.
Untitled by Rosalie Firpo-Cappiello
Carl the Cork by Molly Fuchs Goose B y Caitlin Kropp (special thanks to untitled goose game) Run, run, The goose is coming, Don’t stop! Run, run, The goose is coming, Keep running for your life! Run, run, The goose is coming, You know you will be found! Run, run, The goose is coming, Keep your feet off of the ground! Don’t mess with the honk, You’ll get a bonk! Run, run, The goose is coming! Peace was Never an Option
W hite Rose By: Charlotte Fuchs “Valarie! Valarie wake up!” A pair of hands violently shake me awake. “What is it...” I say groggily, looking around in the darkness. My eyes adjust and I see my best friend, Ana staring over me with a terrified look on her face, eyes welling up with tears. “They are right outside the town. “ she whispered hoarsely. “ The demons are right outside the town” Fear shoots through my body as I shoot up on instinct and toss the burlap blanket across the attic we reach out for the pile of white roses next to me. The only thing that can ward off demons. The one’ s that have been chasing us for years. But there is only one flower that lays next to me. Ana and I make eye contact, hers wide with fear. Nowadays, being hunted by a demon is an outbreak, an illness. White roses have been in high demand and are extremely expensive. There is no way two thirteen-year-old girls with not more than a few dollars can get their hands on one. Ana speaks the truth that I was trying to avoid saying. “There is only one rose, Val. Only one of us is gonna make it. Val, I’ m scared. What are we going to do?” A lump forms in my throat and I grip my hands tighter on the thorny stem of the rose, the thorns poked me and blood gushed in between my fingers. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to the fear. I want to live and some stupid part of me says: Y ou have the rose is your hand, she is nothing. Run now and you can live. Run. Live. Run. Live. But I hate that part of me. I have been on the run with Ana for years. I can’ t just let her die. So I swallow the lump in her throat and reach out, my hands shaking as I drop the bloody rose on her lap. “Take it.” I whisper, pushing away the urge I have to grab the rose and run. She looks at me with her teary brown eyes and this time, she was at a loss for words. Ana picks up the rose, and looks at it with an unreadable expression on her face. “No...Val please you...you can’ t….you will die.” she shuddered at the last word. I don’t say anything to that. After all, there is nothing to say. I just pull her into a tight hug. She stretches
her hand with the bloody rose far away to avoid poking me and wraps her other arm around me, now sobbing into my shoulder. “Thank you.” she whispers above her sobs. “Thank you for being the best friend anyone could ask for. Thank you for being here for me when knowone else would. Thank you for making my life happier.” I pull out of the hug and look into her teary brown eyes, with the barely visible scar below it, from the encounter in L.A. “No..” I tell her. “Thank YOU.” And then we hear the crash. Ana gasps and hugs me one more time. “Valerie-” but what she was going to say, I never found out because her words were drowned out by another crash, a louder one, the sound of the demons entering the room next to us. My heart pumps volienty in my chest. “Hide!” urges Ana “they might not find you. I nod, for her sake and I break free from her hug one last time and run across the dust room we called our home for the past month. I reach a section of crates we put our stuff in and quickly pull the lid off one and jump in it,my fear increasingly growing. I glanced at Ana, standing in a defensive position, rose in hand, eyes still blotchy. She sees me hesitate and turns to me, fear in her eyes. “Hide!” she whisper-yells horsley. I am barely able to squeeze myself into the crate, close the lid and get myself into a position where I could see what was going on outside from a hole in the lid when the last bang echoed through the room and the door flew open. Just seeing the demon, even if you are not being hunted by one, is enough to send fear to anyone's heart. It looks just like a black cloak, no hands or feet. Just a black form with beady red eyes and a pale pink mouth hovering a couple of inches above the ground. Ana lets out a small squeak as the demon flies closer to her,opening its mouth to reveal a set of pointy fangs. “Ahh-na” it says in a cold raspy voice that sends goose bumps up the back of my neck. “Ahh-na Jhonson. We meet again.” Anna straightens up, and taking her left hand off the rose and curling it into a fist she says, “Yes.Yes we do.”
The demon glides closer with a nasty grin on its face flying in circles around her and stopping to smile at her terrified face. I have to use every ounce of restraint I have not to scream. P lease don’t look here. I think. Please, please whatever you do, don’t look here! The demon starts speaking again. “It seems you are protected, Ahh-na.” It stops, right behind her. “How selfish of you. You know I am hunting both of you. You and your friend, Val-a-rie. And now you have the only thing that can allow you to live? How Sssselfish.” It hissed. Ana bit her lip and ever so slightly turned her head to the crate I am in. It’s fine. I chose this. I think, hoping I can send a telepathic message to her, but obviously, it didn’t work. “I know she’s here.” the demon whispers, flying around the room. “Ahh-na, you are already selfish enough to take the rose, so why don’t you just tell me where she is.” Ana straightens up a bit. “No.” “No?” the demon asks. Still trying to be noble I see. Ana nods. “Hum. Useless relay, your friend really is terrible at hiding. My heart almost beats out of my chest, fear pressing up around me as the demon slides close to where I am hiding. “Oh Val-a-rie! Come out, come out wherever you are!” the demon spat. Then it stopped.I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. “You really are not smart are you?” What does that mean? I ask myself. W hat did we do wrong? T he demon ducks down below my line of sight. I curl up into a ball, and then I see it. My hand, still bloody from the rose. So much has happened since then that I forgot it was there. There must be a trail of blood leading right to my hiding spot. “Now.” hisses the demon, so close that I can not see its full body anymore,only a black smudge. “ I am going to open this lid and give you 5 seconds to run. Is that okay with you Val-a-rie?” 5 more seconds is better than none. I think as I get ready to run. Then the lid flies open revealing the trefing face of the demon. I leap out instinctively and run towards a trified Ana. She embraces me.
“Oh, Val” she gasps, more tears forming in her eyes “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I am about to answer back, but the air around me gets very dark and cold. I look up to see the demon standing between us. “Now. No time for these touching moments.” it hisses, then turn to Ana and the rose. “Say goodbye to your friend, Ahh-na”. Ana stays still and whispers something barely above a whisper. “No.” The demon looks at her curiously. “No?” And then Ana throws down the rose. The only thing keeping her alive down in the middle of us. The demon looks surprised. “Ahh. Who is going to be the selfish one now? Who will live, and who will die? I will give you 5 more seconds. I look at Ana. She seems terrified, but at the same time as brave as I ever saw her. “Take it.” she urges.”Please take it, I can’t let you die.” She reaches out her shaky hand, and just let it fall into mine. Like I did to her. Photo by Marlo Gordon
“Good girl.” the demon says. But I can’t let this happen. But it is too late. The demon races towards my only friend and wraps her up in layers of pure darkness. She screams. Louder than I ever heard anyone ever before. “ANA!” I call through the darkness and screams but only the demon answers, its voice filling the room. “Selfish girl. Letting your friend die for you. Selfish girl.” Then it disappears leaving the room almost as it was before. Two girls. One alive but this time one lying on the floor. Not moving. Not breathing. And the last petals of a white rose falling to the ground. Artwork by Linnea Barrachin
Back Cover Art: Katherine Halee
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