Sidney Truluck | Prose I grew up in the small town of Crescent City, California. The population was around 7,100, and it was only about 2 square miles in size. The temperature barely ever rose above 75 degrees, and the most exciting event that ever hap- pened was the county fair held every April. It was nice. I lived the normal, average life. My family lived there for the first eight years of my life. A lot happened in those eight years. My best friend was Li Jie. He was Chinese, and had moved to Crescent City three years after I’d been born there. We were around the same age, me being older than him by exactly 172 days (one day he’d told me he wouldn’t let me see the present he’d gotten me for a birthday unless I could find the amount of days between our birthdays.) The first year he lived there, he could barely speak any English. Fortunately, it wasn’t until two years after he’d moved there that we met. We were in the same class at preschool. I remember the first day we met. The first day of school, actually. It was the end of the day, and we were all playing. Some kids had legos, others were putting on costumes, but I hadn’t brought any toys. I quickly noticed the kid playing alone on the carpet. Our preschool had the town rugs that every other school probably had, the ones with the aerial view of a cartoon town. He had a bunch of miniature cars on the rug. I had no idea what he was playing, but I could hear the “pew”, “vroom”, and “chhhhh...pow” noises he was making from across the room. So I went and sat down across from him. He was on his stomach, moving the cars around the rug. As soon as I sat down, he looked up at me, but only for a second or two before continuing. For the next few minutes I just stared at him playing with the cars, and from my point of view now, I can imagine how awkward the situation was. But we were 4; we didn’t know any better. Finally, he looked back up at me. I’d had a question brewing in my mind as soon as I saw him, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “What happened to your eyes?” I blurted out. He stares at me, squinting his face and making it look like he was staring at the stupidest person ever known to Earth. “What happened to your eyes?” he shot back. “Nothing, my eyes are completely normal. Your eyes are weird.” “They are not,” and as soon as he says this, his mom walks in to pick him up. After one look at his mother, I yell out, “Woah! Your mom has the weird eyes, too!” As he’s walking away, he looked back at me and says, “You’re crazy.”
Sidney Truluck | Prose I admit it. I had never seen any type of Asian before. I went home and told my parents about the guy at school with the weird eyes, and they explained the as- pect of different races. I’d seen African-Americans before. But that was it. The world I knew before that was limited to white and black people. And in the talk with my parents, they told me I shouldn’t say things like that to people of different races. I was confused. I didn’t get it. Then they explained to me how some races, a lot of them really, had been prejudiced against in history. Obviously, I had no idea what that word meant. They explained it to me as “unfairly treated”. And when I asked why they had been unfairly treated, they said because of their race. Because of their skin color. Because of the way they talk. Just because of the way they look. That was the point where I was most confused. Why would people be rude to others just because of the way they look? And rude was an understatement, as I later discovered in elementary school. African-Americans were slaves. Asians were treated with something close to slavery. I was younger then; I didn’t get it. But now I do. People like to feel like they’re better than others, that they’re more entitled to certain privileges and liberties. And sometimes the only way for them to feel like that is take those privileges and liberties from other people. I continued to talk to Li Jie. Well, at first we didn’t talk. But after a while, I asked to play with him. That specific attempt hadn’t gone well; it ended up with a bruise, a broken toy car, and two calls to parents. But after that it got better. We became the best of friends. His family actually lived in our neighborhood, right down the street. Saturday mornings we would wake up early and walk to the creek that ran beside our houses, and toss rocks in. Many times in the summer Li Jie would purposely trip me, sending me head first into the shallow stream. I would grasp at the mud at the bottom, and throw it back at him, until eventually we were both covered in the foul mud. We would wash off, then head back to play more. Every Christmas, right before we had the break, his family would take a plane back to China to visit family. It was rather frequent for traveling to a com- pletely different country, and I hated that I couldn’t see Li Jie at all over the break. The plane ride was about 14 hours, and it didn’t help that Li Jie already had flight anxiety from the age of 4. He hated it, but they stayed for more than two weeks every time they went, so he enjoyed everything other than the plane ride.
Sidney Truluck | Prose One day during the winter break, my parents came into my room while I was cutting out an old shoe box to make it a home for multiple hairy cater- pillars Li Jie and I had caught. My mother’s eyes were watering, but she wasn’t crying. I didn’t think too much about it in the moment. “Amelia, we need to talk to you about something,” my mother said. Now I began to think of all the bad things I had recently done, but I didn’t have enough time to make excuses before both of them took my hand and sat me on the bed, and they both sat across from me. “What’s wrong?!” I asked, becoming more and more worried. It was serious if both my mother and father were here, and if they sat me on the bed then it was definitely a big deal. The only other time that had hap- pened was when I was 3, and my grandmother had passed away. At that age, though, I still didn’t understand the aspect of death. “We just have to tell you something,” my mother says. “Yes, and it’s serious,” my dad follows up. “Is it bad?” Dad looks at mom, raising his eyebrows. Looking back at me he says, “Yes, honey, it is.” I look at them worriedly for a second before asking, “What is it?” Mom looks at Dad, nods her head at him and raising her eyebrows. He nods back and looks at me. “Amelia, Li Jie was in a car crash.” It takes me a moment to process that. That’s not too bad, right? I know Mom had been in two, and neither one injured her seriously. “Ok….is he ok?” Mom takes another look at Dad, and I burst out saying, “Would you just stop looking at each other and tell me what it is!” Dad finally faces me and says, “Sweetie, Li Jie was killed in the crash.” *********
Sidney Truluck | Prose When someone dies, you never think about their best friend. Until you’re that best friend in that situation. That day is, so far, the worst day in my life. It was difficult, going back to school without my best friend. I didn’t ever have an- other friend in that city. Sure, there were people that I talked to, but they were just acquaintances. In second grade, I did acquire one good friend, but she moved away within 6 months of us meeting each other. At that point I almost ac- cepted that I would never find someone to take Li Jie’s place. We moved the summer of second grade. My dad was offered an amazing job, one with good pay and short hours. We figured it was a good time for a change, too. Not too many things were different since preschool. And so we found ourselves on the outskirts of San Francisco, California. It was a completely different atmosphere. The population of the city itself was huge, almost a million people all on the tip of a small peninsula. I loved it. I drank in the heat and the crowds and everything. The day we arrived, I fell in love with the city. Soon, I started school at Mayflower Elemen- tary, continuing to middle school. And that’s the point where I’m at now.
Alyssa McCarty | Poem
Jacob Waddell | Poem Be unique Like a freak Being informal Is completely normal Like a storm Show your true form Don't be like another You are better than the others Like a pyre Keep burning that fire Why care about money When you are richer than honey Don't let someone put you down There is no need to frown Like an antique Be unique
Hailey Brandt | Prose The shop passed the corner was a small, humble shop that only lived be-cause of Mr. Jackson. Mr. Jackson was an old man, he loved nothing more thanhis antiques and the customers who come to visit him. I passed the corner of Westward and Sunder, and stopped as I stared at thedecorated shop down the cobbled road. I rushed toward the shop and put myhands on the old knob and turned it. When I swung the door open, I saw a boy, nottoo much older than me, standing at the dark brown, aged counter. He turned to-wards the sound of the creaky door and smiled brightly at me. Out of commoncourtesy I smiled back. I noticed as I waited that he didn't move from the counterwhere I first found him. As I continued to brush through the store, I took quickglances up at him. When I finally found what I'm looking for, I stood next to him atthe counter. \"Hello, how are you?\" I asked. \"I'm fine, I am just waiting. Seems like it's been a while.\" He said. \"I don't think I've ever seen you around before, are you new to the town?\" Iasked trying not to make it too obvious that I was staring at his twinkling eyes. \"No. I mean yeah. I have lived here for a little over a month now.\" He saidnervously. \"Oh.\" I couldn't seem to let myself say anything else. I stared down at the tile beneath my feet. The silence killed me a little inside,until finally Mr. Jackson appeared in the doorway to the back. \"I am very sorry for the wait. Have you been waiting long?\" He asked polite-ly. \"No, not long, he has kept me company.\" I say as I point my index finger inhis direction. Mr. Jackson gives me a slight grin as he asks who will check out first. \"She will.\" He insists. \"Thank you.\" I said a little softer. He smiled and nodded. When I walked out of the shop, I almost made it around the corner, when hestopped me. \"Hey, would you like to hang out sometime? Maybe coffee?\" He asked. \"Well I have something to do today, maybe some other time?\" I asked. \"That works. I will see you around, okay?\" \"Okay.\" I said.
Hailey Brandt | Prose He turned a corner that I was unfamiliar with and I was alone. I walked down the sidewalk, daydreaming. Not about anything in particular, well maybe. Maybe it was him. Maybe I was thinking about that smile, or maybe it was the twinkle in his eye. No, it was definitely the twinkle in his eye. And that’s the exact reason why I turned the unfamiliar corner. My eyes opened wide when I woke up. It was just a dream. I thought to myself. I lay there, in my bed for another minute, until I turned the alarm off. I got out of bed and put on a white sundress with some rose colored flowers. When I stepped out the door of my apartment, I walked down the stairs and opened the door. I headed out to the street and turned the corner of Westward and Sunder.
Kaylin Ayers | Poem Elephants stomp their feet Blow out of their trunks And make enough noise to shake the ground. Elephants care for each other because they are family Elephants are mistreated for their big bold tusks. But, it has been shown that elephants are carefree, happy, and misunderstood; they will forgive you if you show them kindness.
Alyssa McCarty | Poem
Sidney Truluck | Prose The door of the café slams shut behind me as I enter. It's below freezing out-side. The cold is honestly one of the reasons I love New York City. It barely everreached below 20 degrees, even during the coldest months of the year, and the hu-midity was always extremely high where I used to live. Southern Florida. It wasnice there, but I fell in love with the city as soon as I first saw it through the airplanewindow. Unfortunately, it’s not my decision whether or not I get to stay here. I walk to the end of the line, and after deciding on a white chocolate mocha, Igaze at the people sitting at small tables, sipping coffees and eating crumbling pas-tries. After a few moments of observing, I arrive at the front of the line and order. Igo to find a seat, weaving in between the scattered tables, and settle at a table fortwo in the corner. Facing the rest of the room, I set my coffee on the table and takemy phone out from the pocket of my jeans. Taking a sip, I open the News app andscroll through the headlines. Four US government officials disappeared almostthree days ago, and nobody has yet found anything about where they might be. Ontop of that, there were, what people believe were terrorist attacks, in three placeslast night: London, Paris, and lastly, San Francisco. Many people wonder whyWashington DC wasn't attacked instead of San Francisco, since the other two wereperformed on the capitals of each nation. All three attacks were suicide bombers insmall jets. The London suicide bomber hit Big Ben, and he was in a small F-35Lightning II, a single pilot and single-engine jet able to reach top speeds of Mach1.6 (around 1,200 mph or 1.6 times the speed of sound). The weirdest thing? Thejet was created for the US Air Force. Same with the other two planes used (F-15Eagle and F-15A Eagle). That's not at all a coincidence, and neither is the fact thatfive officials went missing. Theories are popping up all over the internet. \"US Gov-ernment aids in Terrorist Attacks!\" \"US Government Officials: Traitors.\" There's al-ready been two riots this morning. One in San Francisco and another at the capital.No one has been harmed yet, which is obviously very good, considering how direthe situations are. And that's why I'm here. To find more out about what's happening, what thecitizens of America don't know that the government does. Actually, my work begana while ago. I work for an agency, obscure and secret, as elementary as that may sound.But nobody knows about it except for the people that are a part of it. I'm the onlyfemale that's a part of it, other than Lisa Durse, but the only thing she does is drivepeople around. One day, while I was still living in Florida (where the headquartersof the agency are), I was told to go meet Mr. Boshe, and that day he told me that Iwas needed in New York, and after that he told me something else. That was when I found out about the attacks.
Sidney Truluck | Prose A whole six weeks before they were even supposed to occur, I knew about the three single events that would affect the entire world. But, I couldn't tell any- one. Not a soul. In fact, I was held at gunpoint by one of Boshe's many guards while reciting an oath, promising to keep everything a secret. And, yes, this is odd. Why wouldn't I tell? The purpose of allowing the attacks to commence was because we had to know more about why they attacked. We al- ready know who they were. Obviously, three of the four government officials that disappeared two days ago. We believe that it was some sort of plot, one that sug- gests that maybe the government is planning to do more, possibly something detri- mental to average American citizens. What it could be? Well, maybe a fourth at- tack. My job is to find the fourth official that disappeared. We know he's in New York City, people from the Communications department intercepted a radio mes- sage. It was odd, no one was expecting there to be one and nobody was able to tell who it was from until the head of the department was able to come in and deci- pher the code. The code took a good five weeks to crack, having been completed a couple of weeks before I was sent here. And why, if they were American government officials, would they be attacking places in France and England? What if the US isn't the only country being target- ed? This isn't just about America. If not stopped, the whole world will be affected. How; we don't know yet. I quickly finish my coffee, and soon I leave the cafe and walk onto the streets of New York City. Hurrying past people, I reach Citigroup Center. Being one of the tallest buildings in the city, I figured it would be understandable if maybe the fourth official attacked the building. Not today, though. They would wait a few days for everything to calm down, before attacking again. This would lengthen the amount of havoc, decreasing the stability of our nation. Making it easier for even more at- tacks. Walking into the lobby, I glance around. The Center was an office building, so obviously there were still a lot of people rushing around and getting into elevators. Acting as if I was one of the diligent workers, I walk into one of the elevators and ride to the fifty-ninth floor. There are a total of fifty nine floors, so I figured I would work my way down. Stepping out of the elevator, I begin walking at a brisk pace, so as to seem as if I was rushing to arrive to my cubicle on time. The carpeted floor muffles my hurried footsteps. After walking around the entire floor, I go back to the elevator. The purpose of the silent investigation is to find as much information about the building as pos- sible.
Sidney Truluck | Prose All of a sudden, the building shook. It was quick, and after it was over, I look around. Most people have fallen, but I remained leaning against a wall. And then I smell it. The smoke. It finally dawned on me what had just happened. The fourth attack. I was completely wrong about the fact that they wouldn't attack until later--but at least I was right about them attacking Citigroup Center. In a state of panic, I rush to the other side of the floor where the smoke seems to be coming from. There's a huge burnt hole in one wall, nearly everything around it set on fire. There were already a few bodies lying around the crash, not moving. Rushing away from the sight, I hurry back to stairs while yelling at everyone to evacuate the building by way of stairs. Obviously, may were already doing that. As I began running down the stairs, I was thinking, Why didn't they fly into somewhere near the middle of the building? It would've definitely done more damage. But, I was not going to complain about that. The ceiling caved in. It surprised me; I wasn't really expecting the stairs to be dangerous. But, at that point, there was nothing I could do about it. The concrete crushed me, it fell right onto my legs and I was trapped. I was yelling out in pain at the others running down the stairs, but no one even came to try to help me. As more of the building lit on fire, I could do nothing but scream. I took my last breaths as the fire engulfed me.
Royce Kinchloe | Poem Through the window, there is a tree Through the window, there is a pond Through the window, there is a hill Through the window, what do you see The tree is bare Orange and yellow, Red and brown It's leaves, they fall The pond is still No flop, No flip Below the water It's fish, they creep The hill is white Cold and Wet Soft and Loose It snows, it shines
Brenna Gould | Prose Not every state in America is always sunny and warm like, for example;California or Florida. A place where it is always rainy is ideal for some, but notall. Imagine how great it would be to go anywhere you please, anytime of theday. For Olivia, that is exactly what she wants. A nice sunny island, with palewhite sand, and the sky blue with crystal clear water. She looks at postcardsnearly all the time, even in this day of age, they hang by her raindrop coveredwindow, hoping one day to look out the window and not see any gray rainyskies. Tacoma, Washington is very much like the city Seattle, always rainy. Theonly difference would have to be the sight of mountains in the background. Olivalives in the suburbs of Tacoma. Plaintively looking out her bay window, Oliviafidgets with her postcard thinking about summer break. Both parents drive 45minutes for work in Seattle, leaving Olivia home alone for a rather long time.Hanging out with friends is what Olivia enjoys most on a school afternoon. Mostof her friends live in the neighborhood, making it convenient, not having a carand all. She briskly walks out of her house to meet her friend, Jen, at the inter-section of their two streets. The entire time they were hanging out all Jen couldtalk about was her vacation plans for summer break and where she was springbreak. Disneyland, Legoland, Hawaii , Florida Keys, you name it, she planned it.Let down, Olivia made an excuse to go home early. Her sorrow acted as hershadow on her walk back. During dinner, the only thing Olivia could talk about was vacation plans.\"...Doesn’t Hawaii sound nice! Oh oh- what about Key West!\" Her parents shooktheir heads no for all the suggestions she gave. After dinner from the staircase,all she can hear is one parent wanting to go and the other a complete opposite.She slowly went up the stairs in attempt to not make them creak, and silentlyclosed her bedroom door behind her. The sun was beginning to set into thesnow-capped mountains, the moon becoming more visible. Olivia stared at themoon, the same moon that is showing somewhere else. The last day of school came quick, the beginning of summer was only but8 hours away. She stepped onto the bus and sat right next to Jen. If it was anyday of the year that she talked about vacation the most; this was the day. Oliviahad to respect that, it is the last day of school. Jen bored Olivia the entire busride with the same exact plans she told her about the night before. Pulling up in-to school, she sees even the most mature people in school throwing papers allaround, after most of them have been torn up to shreds.
Brenna Gould | Prose Sitting in class all the students were counting down the last seconds of the school year. 10...9...8.... The chime of the irritating bell was nothing to miss for the 2 months of break. Olivia got onto the bus to hear once again Jens story about her Adventures she will have. She even took her time to Google more vacation places for her and her family. Leaving tomorrow she is going to Disneyland in California, for Olivia, tomorrow was just another Saturday. A lifeless, uninteresting Saturday. The moment she got home she chucked her backpack on the couch and ran to the kitchen in hope to find a good snack. She grabs a Capri Sun and a pouch of Cheez It and carried off to the back porch. She scrolled through her phone, nothing but pictures of her friends hitting the road and feeling the need to post that on Insta- gram. She shut of her phone and placed it face down on the table next to her seat. Sighing, she picks up her small dog and pets him. Olivia looks the dog straight in the eye and says, \"just one vacation, is that too much to ask for?\" . Her phone buzz- es, rattling the whole table. She lifts it up to the word 'Mom' illuminated on the screen, with slight hesitation, she taps the answer button on her phone. Her mother, thrilled, explains to Olivia that she purchased plane tickets to Bora Bora. Delighted, Olivia jumps up and down in the air shouting 'yes' over and over. Boarding on the white aircraft of 450 tons Olivia had a suitcase and a smile to take to her dream paradise. Her parents still drowsy from waking up at 3AM, shake their heads in unison to Olivia's bolt of energy jumping around. The whole airport might as well been shaking their sleepy heads, yawning in the process. Olivia clenched her airline ticket to her chest, her ticket to the plane, her ticket to get away from Washington State. She hints at her parents she wants the window seat on the plane. Looking down as the plane takes off, she sees her home getting smaller and smaller. She can see each individual road lit up by drivers shiny headlights. She sees the beauty of her town when the stars shine above together with the moon. Olivia leans back into her chair and closes her eyes. Olivia wakes up to the sound of her parents faint conversation. Half the plane was still asleep, it had only been 2 hours since they left the airport. Olivia turns over and looks over to the window at the sight of a sunrise in the clouds. The sky was pink and orange with sunbeams piercing into the soft, fluffy, white clouds made only of ice crystals. She sees the small island below her get bigger and bigger the closer they get. She walks out of the Airport and gives a smile to the ocean waving. The sun blinding her in the distance. She looks up and gazes at the palm trees towering above, swaying, appearing synchronized . Olivia thinks about how much fun she'll have on the island of Bora Bora. For once she gets what she has always wanted, her dream vacation.
Lauren Jonas | Poem
Ethan Hearn | Poem Overhead a sharp clap of thunder Awakes me from my deep slumber Drowsily I look, and see with wonder The ghostly inhumane face ahead All above, ashes are falling And the darkness I see is calling Rising up, and then appalling See something I've been longing for Cloaked in smoke, a man comes rising Grabs my arm, the darkness inviting As I see us reuniting Life's mangled grip loses its hold
Nathan Violette | Prose Daniel was an average teenager: bullied, made fun of laughed at. He always thought there was nothing special about him. That is what he was always told so that's what he always believed. Every negative thing towards him he believed, he thought it was all true. Daniel had some friends not many but some. He knew a lot of people but they weren't friends. He was told by many people that they were his friends, but inside he knew they were lying. Daniel thought about something he realized that there was one thing that he hasn’t told hardly anybody, He had tried at many sad points in his life he has tried to leave. Leave humanity and all of its kind. Leave. Through all of this Daniel would try to stay positive but sometimes. Life doesn’t always work that way. He knows not all stories end on a \"Happily ever After\" He wanted his too though. One night he found himself bleeding because he had a razor to his skin. Cuts. One...two. Then there was four than seventeen then thirty-two. He finally stopped. Tears rolling down his face. Crying. He had been Crying. Daily, Daniel wasn’t living a bad life just he couldn’t ever control his de- pression. There could be nights where he would cry himself to sleep. Wanting to die. But on another hand he knew he couldn’t ever leave his friends. The friends he does trust. He was sick of his every day, the same thing. Wake Up, School, Cry, Sleep, Repeat. He wished his life was differ- ent. Daniel had really close friends. He had Lauren and Liz. They have been with Daniel through everything and more. His other friends are Tay- lor, Tyler, Syd, Ron, and Riley. Those people were amazing. They were the only people he trusted. He knew they would be there for him for a lifetime. Forever. Thinking of them for a second he did some- thing he never thought he would do. He Smiled.
Vincent Taylor | Poem I want to get away from it all If someone could just hear me call that I just want to be alone leave me to just moan, groan Wanting to get away from it all Can't you see That you are not me You do not know that you feel like a foe You compare me to you If only you knew Wanting to get away from it all I am your wife But you're as sharp as a knife Stabbing me in the heart I think we should part Wanting to get away from it all
Alyssa McCarty | Poem
Natalie Peyton | Poem The human race has played dangerous games Games with the Devil And games with God Some end in horror Some end in happiness If ended in horror, We are taught a lesson Do not make the same mistake Do not disappoint Do not lose again If ended in happiness, Our greed is increased Our hearts blacked more And we think we are more powerful than before And we start to seek more Men and Women Controlled by greed They perform foul deeds To lose the war May ease the soul But to win the war Is a dangerous goal
Andrew Wiedmuller | Poem
Vanessa Ward | Photography
Austin Brown | Poem
Aniyah Mack | Art
Anonymous | Prose Lucas woke up to a scream. He ran downstairs to see his parents talking in the kitch-en. \"What's going on?\" He asked, confused. His dad smile at him and said, \"We'll tell youwhen you get home from school later.\" Lucas rolled his eyes and went upstairs to getdressed. When he came back downstairs, he went in the kitchen and grabbed an orange.He sat down at the counter to eat, when he realized towels and two bowls in the corner ofthe kitchen. Lucas shrugged and looked out his back window. His parents were on theirback porch talking to each other. Lucas got up and walked out the door. He put up his hoodand started walking to school in the rain. During first and second period, all Lucas thought about was what his parents had totell him. They had been thinking about getting a dog for a while, maybe that's it. The onlyreason they hadn't already gotten a dog was because they couldn't decide on what kind ofdog they wanted. His mom wanted a little dog, but his dad wanted a German Shepard. Hismom wanted a male dog, but his dad wanted a female. Then Lucas remembered the tow-els and bowls in the kitchen. That could be the dogs corner, where his food and waterwould be. Lucas decided that the only thing they could have to tell him was that they weregetting a dog. On the bus ride home, Lucas started to get nervous. What if the dog didn't like him,or what if it was mean to everyone? He decided to stop thinking about it. He looked out thebus window and noticed it was still raining. After driving for about five more minutes. Thebus screeched to a stop and Lucas got off. When he was off the bus, he put his hood upand started walking home. Lucas was standing on his porch. It wasn't raining anymore. In fact, the ground wasdry. The sky was blue with not a cloud in sight. Lucas didn't think too much about it. Hereached out anxiously and turned the doorknob to his front door. He expected a dog to runup to him barking, but there was no dog. Instead, there were boxes everywhere. His par-ents looked up at him, \"Surprise! We're moving.\" His mom announced. Lucas just stared atthem. \"What about the towels and bowls in the kitchen?\" He asked. His parents looked ateach other confused. \"What are you talking about? His dad asked. Lucas just shruggedand went in the kitchen. Sure enough, the towels and bowls were gone. Lucas grabbed agranola bar and looked out the back window. It was snowing now. How was this possible?He dismissed it and went back in the living room. \"Why don't you take a box up to your room and start packing, Lucas?\" His mom sug-gested. He grabbed a box and walked up the stairs. He filled the box about half way, thengot distracted. His forehead felt wet. Then everything went black. When he opened hiseyes again, he was lying in bed, with Sadie standing on top of him. \"What a dream.\" Hesaid to her. Chocolate Lab lied down next to him and went to sleep. Lucas got out of bedand headed down stairs. He found his parents in the living room, unpacking.
Vanessa Ward | Photography
Rosemary Valmores | Prose It was 1945, and Mary Miller waited in her cold home in the middle of Tennessee. She held a young girl, who she rocked in a creaky wooden rocking chair, and she watched as the small girl drifted off to sleep. Mary's lullaby had worked on the child, but she herself was still hoping for sleep. Although it was still morning—she had just recently awoken—she was exhausted from the long hours of waiting. Unfortunately for her, she didn't know what she waited for. Was it the mo- ment that her husband would knock on the door after years of her waiting? Or was it a telegram, telling her that he was killed? So she was afraid, and she waited. Although she was fearful and restless, her daughter, Carolyn, was her medicine. Carolyn was her mother's patience. She was her hope. Her smile. And as the pair waited for the kind and gentle soul of a husband and father— Thomas—they cared for each other, though Carolyn didn't know her mother needed her as much as she needed her mother. Mary—still holding Carolyn—then remembered that in her small kitchen, the few dishes still had to be washed and the floor had to be swept. She gin- gerly sat the sleeping child down on the worn out, brown couch by the small fireplace and laid Carolyn's baby blanket over her. Mary walked toward the kitchen and began to wash the small plates and cups from the meager breakfast in warm, bubbly water. She sang as she cleaned. She didn't hum, but truly sang. She was blessed with a voice like an angel. She hoped that Carolyn would have received the gift as well; she always wanted her to sing in school plays, not that she had really gone to school for a long enough time top join in their first play. Eventually, she finished washing the dishes and sweeping the dusty floors. She the went to check on Carolyn, but found nothing but her blanket that was ruffled up. Nothing... \"Carolyn? Are you in your room?\" Mary walked toward the child's bed- room and found just a small, tidy bed and a little wooden dresser. \"Cary? Come on baby, where are you?\" She started to panic. She went to her own room, and, again, found nothing. She then heard the heavy, wooden front door squeak open just the slightest bit, and she rushed over in a frenzy. There she found not only her little blonde haired angel standing before the cracked open door, squinting into the bright, cloudless, yet chilly day, but a man who looked hungry and cold, and tired and lonely. The man smiled. Mary gasped. \"Thomas?
I’ndia Wilson | Poem Winter Haiku Snow falls from the sky Snow was falling from the trees I love my snow days Winter nights: Snow glistens from the tree on a cold night. Foot prints marks in the freezing snow leads off to an old cabin \" Oh how I enjoy my winter nights\" jumping in the snow making snowmen, snow angels, snow balls and way more to do when you have snow days. Spring Haiku Spring is coming Flowers are blossoming I love spring so much Spring Afternoons: The sun states to set on the lake beaming down from above all the colors coming down like pink, purple, orange, and blue the outline of the clouds looking like heaven is right there before me sun is sun is almost set on a beautiful spring afternoon.
I’ndia Wilson | PoemSummer HaikuSun beams down on meThe sun is going to set soonI love my summer daysSummer Days: Come by, hot sun making you feel sunburned water getting inyour face playing in the pool with all your closest friends you wish the day wouldnever end but you know it will when you feel your sunburn getting better whichmeans the sun is starting to set.Fall HaikuThe leaves are changingThey are tumbling from the treesI love fall so muchFall Mornings: You see the different colors leaves red, green, yellow, and orangeall falling from the trees waking up with the sun in your eyes when you go out-side the sun is in my eyes as soon as I step out I know winter is coming soon.
McClendon Hughes | Prose Running and fear is all that is on my mind as I speed through the forest. Bushes and branches of all kind hitting and scratching against my skin. As I dash through the unfor- giving and frightening tress I listen for the creature, too scared to look back. Honestly I don’t know what it is. All I know is that it has no face but somehow I can still feel his eyes on me. I kept running until suddenly I tripped and hit the ground with a hard crash. Seconds after I fell the crea- ture pinned me to a tree, like a staple to a billboard. I would describe what it looked like but I closed my eyes . Knowing I was going to die, I didn’t want the last thing for me to see is the monstrous creature who killed me. A part of me though didn’t mind dying. Flattened out against the tree about to meet my end , I realized I deserved this punishment. My atrocious action went in a circle, all the way back to haunt me.
Vanessa Ward | Photography
Angel Trotter | Prose When I first picked up the clarinet I wasn't really sure what it was. Howev- er, I remember that exact day vividly. The second my finger landed on the keys, I knew it was the instrument for me. I'm going to be entering Middle School next year. I'm not positive how I feel about it. I've been waiting to play an instrument for a while. Well, my parents brought me into a beautiful white music store. There was a young woman at the front desk who greeted my family with a friendly smile. She then opened the doors to an entire different world, universe, galaxy maybe. There were so many different kinds of instruments I couldn't count. So many kids who had that glow in their eyes while they were gazing at the walls of scratch less, shiny, instruments and that's the moment I knew in my mind; this is where I belong. I was scared to walk any farther, just in case I may mess something up. Maybe I was just in shock, and I couldn't move even if I wanted to. This smiling man with light brown hair, and ocean blue eyes walks up to my family. He had the glow in his eyes that all of the other people did, like he's happy just standing in the room. His name tag said, \"hello, my name is Charlie.\" I mentioned to him I wanted to purchase an instrument for band the next year. Charlie got a grin on his face, the kind of grin you can't be sure if the person is happy or really over excited. Then he said, \"follow me\". As we started to make our way around the room I felt like I was being quizzed by Charlie. He would ask me a question, raise one of his eyebrows, smile, and continue to walk. The more instruments we passed, the more hope I started to lose. Suddenly, Charlie comes to a halt, and with the biggest of big- gest smiles he says, \"This is your meant to be instrument.\" I took a long look still trying to grasp the excitement. I saw the beautiful, symmetrical, almost glowing rows of clarinets. Charlie starts from the first clarinet and starts moving his finger gradually down the row as if he was drawing a line with his hand. Then every- thing stops moving; he grabs the instrument and hands it to me. All of the clarinets look the same, but this one single clarinet was different. It was like a beautiful light was beaming form the clarinet- one of those moments when you want to look away, but you don’t. It's like this clarinet choose me. To be its partner, and favorite companion. To watch over each other for the follow- ing difficult years to come.
Meghan Ford | Poem Accept that I am a fabrication of your own self-hatred. I am not real. I am the villain you introduced; in great efforts to make yourself the hero of your story. I have never reprimanded you, or told you to do anything- you created me to make your own thoughts acceptable. I will never be tangible, nor blamable for your actions. But this personification of self-detestation is not a complete indication of schizophrenia. You haven't completely lost your mind- but you are getting closer. So, destroy me. I am merely a figment of your imagination. You created me, you can kill me. Destroy me, before I destroy you. Put a bullet in my imaginary head- tie a noose around my imaginary neck. You are vulnerable, because you gave me too much power. Kill me now so you can stop \"blaming the voices in your head\" Or I may recognize your defenseless nature and take you over for better or for worse. But you mustn't forget I'm helping you; even having me here beats being alone.
Gabrielle Burris | Prose The cold blue water was no match for Darla, for she was about to have a baby. She pushed and pushed, screaming in ago- ny, but nothing. She was so scared that she would have to hold back her pregnancy till next week, but she knew the pain would be unbearable. Darla was about to give up when, just then, she felt sleepy. All she could she a growing thick red. When Darla gathered enough strength to turn around, she could not believe her bloodshot eyes: it was here baby! Darla's body filled with joy as she saw her little baby look into her eyes. But Darla knew that she had to get her little baby to safety away from all the dangers of the deep blue, so she went to the closest sea cave. The sea cave was so beautiful. The rocky walls were like diamonds, re- flecting the water, creating an extraordinary, glistening mural on the walls. Darla's motherly instincts told her that her baby was weak, so Darla nursed her baby milk. While her baby was drink- ing Darla thought of names: Silver, Ember, Brin and ,Celeste. But out of all of them Darla liked Mako the best. Perfect. Darla knew that her and her baby needed to get back to their pod, so they hurried back. Every once in awhile Darla carries Mako her back so she could breathe. When Darla and Mako were close to their pod, Darla sensed great danger. Darla turned around to see if Mako was okay; she wasn't there! Darla tried to hurry to her pod so there could be more whales to help find Mako, a thick red de- voured the used to be a bright blue water. When Darla turned around she saw a crowd of sharks. Darla saw that two of them were wrestling over something bloody. Darla's eyes filled with tears when she saw that it was Mako. All the sudden a bigger shark burst through the rest of the smaller sharks; went up to Dar- la and ripped her heart out, instantly killing her.
Natalie Peyton | Poem I stared at the stars Those twinkling lights The ones that i started at On a cold winter's night I looked at the grass The twirling green thing That were free as a bird As if they had wings I glanced at the trees As high as they were With their different faint smell Hoping that they never fell Beauty is everywhere If you can tell But you have to be careful It also has secrets to tell
Natalie Peyton | Poem Mother nature threw it at us But we prevailed the winners A storm, Knocking on your windows, Blowing leaves into your yard, Throwing branches into the wind, Hitting your window Rat-atat-tat Mother nature has been testing South Carolina; Ice storms A 1000 year rain A storm But we are South Carolina Strong No matter what is thrown at us We will break through No matter what element to thrown into our state We will stand together No matter how many storms we face We are united Helping each one To stand back up Because we are South Carolina Strong
Vanessa Ward | Photography
Rosie Valmores | Poem I ran away once To the beach The silver rimmed clouds Just out my reach Loons soared by them Seeming still Then disappearing Beyond the hill I sat and waited The sun fell down I returned each Small shell I found I made my way Up a great dune Then sat and watched The rising moon There's nothing that day Couldn't teach I ran away once To the beach
Lauren Jonas | Poem
Natalie Peyton | Prose It was the weirdest thing I have ever experienced. It was a regular Wednesday afternoon. I was walking home from school and as I passed the old abandoned house on the hill, I heard the beating of drums. I knew I should’ve kept walking. I should have gone straight home. But my curiosity got the better of me. I took a deep breath and decided to investigate. As I walked up the path of broken bricks and felt the snap of a twig under my foot I realised I had been warned of the house on 143 Brook Avenue. When I was five, or six or so, my parents had said. “Now Adam, if your friends ever want you to go up the hill and see the house you need to say no.” Then over the course of the next week all of my friends kept saying that I needed to go up to the old house. The fact was I really did want to go but my mother just kept saying no and that if I went up there I wouldn’t ever be allowed to go outside again. But as the adrenaline pumped through my veins I ran up the creaky stairs and into the old wooden house. The first thing I saw was a small black coffee ta- ble with a small glass sitting upon it. The strange thing was that it was no ordi- nary glass and that showed that this was no abandoned house, for the glass was full. It was then that I realized that up the stairs there was someone, something looking at me and it was smiling. This thing was neither man nor woman, human nor anything else I had ever encountered. It slowly moved down the stairs, but not walking, more like it was floating. It had seen me and I had seen it and now there was no going back. As I ran through the house I realized that I had never seen those childhood friends after they told me they would go with or without me. Then suddenly they came from every direction. One at a time, each larger that the last and each looking more and more like a figure out of my nightmares. But as one came close to me I saw there eyes. They had eyes and sud- denly I realized that hadn’t wanted to harm me they wanted me to free them. I could see it in their eyes, in the way they moved around me. It was almost as if they had known me all my life, but they couldn’t speak. And then in the corner of the room I saw a small drum and it had my name on it. Suddenly it hit me these were not monsters, they were my friends. One pointed to the glass and then back to himself. I thought he wanted me to drink the water, I thought it would free them. I could not have been more wrong. When they started toward me I realized they had not meant to drink the water, now there was only hatred in their eyes, cruel- ty. I was their hope and I wasted my chance. “I’m sorry please….” It was all I could mutter before the darkness came up- on me. It was all I could say before the darkness consumed me.
Macy Allen | Poem Her sarcasm, her dark, dark skin Every day she wished she was thin, Everyone looked at her like she was a sin, If she was around They stared at her hair, Talked about her, because they knew she cared, Everything she wore, She felt dared to say something. At first, she's shy, and clumsy, we all know why. She doesn’t want to mess up, But we all know she does. But she's friendly... She treated everyone gently, she was a good friend. She would be with you until the end, If you let her. She’s so funny, When your days are rainy, she'll make them sunny, And... And... I love her I love me, and that’s all I'll ever need, Because nobody's going to love me in this world of hate... She was a sin, She was a sin.
Grace Farish| Photography
Emma Tracy | Poem
Natalie Peyton | Poem A father that leaves home At your tender age of one To fight for you To fight for everyone A father who helped our country They all worked as one, You tried your best To make your father proud A balloon A shirt To welcome him home As he went again At the age of five To fight for you To fight for everyone A father who helped our country They all worked as one You did your best in school To make your father proud A balloon A shirt A hug A kiss To welcome him home again Now again As he leaves When your thirteen You now understand Why he must As another is seeing him leave At the tender age of two
Natalie Peyton | Poem She was a good girl Did well in school Until she said yes They changed her She became mean She became unhappy The smile that was always there Had disappeared Love turned to Hatred Hatred turned into fights And she realized she couldn’t stop Everyone thought she was beyond saving Her smile would never return That the hatred would never stop But one still saw the good in her One became ten Ten became twenty Twenty became sixty Sixty cured her They went to her house Kept her away from them Then followed her to school Confiscated them They worked for months Keeping her off Then one day She returned to school With love in her heart A smile on her face An tears in her eyes She thanked them For helping her escape For escaping her demise drugs
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