The Scribbler

2015

Volume 62 Grace Church School

New York City

The Scribbler

Joe Geniesse, Catie Littell, Miles McCain, Audrey Rudd, Mabel Smith

Olivia Hult, Isabelle Kaminsky, Susanna

Langan Greer Goergen, Rafe DiDomenico, Eliza Gilbert, Esme Fritton, Rowan Henchy,

Luke Abramowitz

Stella Anderson, Cindy Barbossa, Olivia Berger, Ellie Cullman, Alexandra Blum,

Wenhao Cai, Aaron Hessel, Lola Jakob, Emily Lopez, Lucy Schwalbe, Cub Scott, Anna

Sorensen, Annabel Stevens, Ian Rotheroe, Liya Yaniv

Faculty Technical Advisors

Ilta Adler, Topher Nichols

Faculty Advisor Benham Latimer

Short Story Contest Winners

First Place – Rafe DiDomenico Gone

Second Place – Charlotte Robertson

Water

Third Place – Alina Pearlroth The Unluckies

Poetry Contest Winners

First Place – Greer Goergen Fire and Ice

Second Place – Lola Jakob

Broken Glass

Third Place – Ellie Cullman Lift Off

Art Contest Winners

First Place Cover and Back

Rafe DiDomenico

Second Place Luke Abramowitz

Third Place

Wenhao Cai & Loulou Sloss

CONTENTS

Short Stories Rafe DiDomenico 1 ...... Gone Charlotte Robertson 26 ..... Water Alina Pearlroth 41 ..... The Unluckies Josephine O’Brien 44 ..... The Enslaved Violinists Eliza Gilbert 64 ..... Infinite Katherine Cook 74 ..... A Cat Called Holly Wenhao Cai and Louise Sloss 85 ..... Super Rosy! Bo Goergen 88 ..... Revenge Cadence Plenge 91 ..... Four Eyes Lily Greenberg 100 .... Labyrinth Anonymous 117 .... Koolness in the Kool Klub Lily Greenberg 148 .... The Nobody Man Elliot Flagg 156 .... Stranded Derrick Foskett 166 My Grandfather’s Story Theo Usher 171 .... Death on the Dartboard Elliot Flagg 180 .... For the Sake of Exploration Luke Abramowitz 198 ... Untitled

Poetry Greer Goergen 209 .... Fire and Ice Lola Jacob 211 .... Broken Glass Ellie Culman 212 .... Lift Off Eliza Gilbert 213 .... Beneath Your Beautiful Kat Cook 214 .... Blank Lily Greenberg 215 .... Blundermeecen Eldon “Cub” Scott 216 .... Dogs Cindy Barbosa 217 .... Don’t Shoot Katharine Sorensen 218 .... What For? Katharine Sorensen 220 .... Pour Quoi? Eliza Gilbert 222 .... Knocking on Fates Door Ben Scali 224 .... Untitled Ben Scali 225 .... Untitled Blakely Duskin 226 .... Gymnastics Lola Jacob 227 .... You, Not Me Lily Greenberg 229 .... World in a Nutshell Charlotte Robertson 230 .... My Sag Harbor Advanced Shakespeare Class 232 .... The Story of a

Troublesome Bubble

or Ode to Bubble Wenhao Cai & Lucy Schwalbe 233 .... One of Life’s Many Mysteries Bo Goergen 234 .... Untitled Anna Sorenson 235 .... Seasons Thomas Yun 237 .... An Everlasting Stream Thomas Yun 238 .... The Quiet Forest Thomas Yun 239 .... Life Thomas Yun 240 .... The Blanket of Snow Thomas Yun 241 .... Winter

Thomas Yun 242 .... A Good Day at Work Thomas Yun 243 .... New York City Anna Sorensen 244 .... Untitled Lila Gimbel 245 .... Time Claudia Goodwin 247 .... Waves of Life Ellie Cullman 248 .... Unicorn of Fate Josephine O’Brien 249 .... Untitled Rania Challita 252 .... America Aaron Hessel 253 .... Seasons Change Susanna Langan 254 .... Many Things Alina Pearlroth 255 .... The Feeling of Mad Lila Gimbel 257 .... Water Alina Pearlroth 258 .... What am I? And Who Are You? Cindy Barbosa 259 .... What If? Alina Pearlroth 261 .... Words Alina Pearlroth 262 .... You Don’t Know Me Susanna Langan 264 .... Your Broken Soul

Short Stories

Art by Luke Abramowitz

Rafe DiDomenico grade 6 Gone

The only thing I can do in this moment, is

wait, covering my face from the flame. I sit up in

the tree, waiting for someone to come and save

me from this peril, or something to destroy this

endless fire. That is if anything can destroy it

now. It feels immortal. I feel that the big dancing

light made of glowing orange and yellow and

red, soon will set the whole world into an uproar

of flame.

The smoke is clogging up the air. It’s rising

up to the heavens, so it can ruin them too. I

cough, and catch a quick glimpse of fire. Huge,

massive, red, angry and mean flames, slowly

germinating, catching up to the branch I am

perched upon. I look down the opposite side of

the tree, to see what was there. To see if more fire

2

was coming, or to see if I had one more chance at

life. A big branch with leaves all over it blocks my

view. But I can see Anne-Sophie’s polaroid

camera lying below the flame. I stand bravely. I

look at the pasture beyond the fire that I know

soon will be ash.

Then, I look down at the ground, far below

me. I then lean forward a bit too far. I lose my

footing, and I fall down into despair.

I think to myself as I am falling, ‘I sure hope

I’m dead..’ And then, I silently faint in the air.

Earlier

“C’mon, Anne-Sophie! We can’t be late for

campfire time!” I shout, excited that our cabin is

finally doing campfire and s’mores! “ANNE-

SOPHIE!”

The BEST campfires are at Free-Field

camp. Free-Field is a sleep-away seven-week coed

3

camp! Campfire and s’mores cabin bonding time

is a great way to end the seven-week camp

session. One boy cabin, and one girl cabin have a

s’more and campfire night together! It rocks!

As she is running towards me, with a

lantern, raincoat and her polaroid camera, Anne-

Sophie screams, “Coming! Stop yelling,

Aleksander! I’m gonna catch up.”

“Anne-Sophie! You don’t need SO much

stuff! All we are going to do is eat marshmallows!

LET’S GO!”

“Aleksander! I said STOP yelling! Just wait

for me, who cares if we’re, like, what?” Anne-

Sophie checks her watch. “Like, eighteen minutes

late?”

“That’s A LOT!” I respond. She catches up

eventually, though. We walk up to the campfire

pit, which is about a half a mile from my cabin,

4

and is like, a quarter mile away from Anne-

Sophie’s cabin. We see our counselors lighting up

wood in the huge fire-pit! In seconds, the wood

goes from dry and still, to the source of thick, and

gorgeous flames! Erin beckons us as soon as she

sees us wobbling towards her. Her blonde hair

looks red in the dimming night, against the flame.

Andy Allan, an annoying kid in my cabin,

swipes a bag of marshmallows from Erin, our

counselor, and then shoots up the nearest tree!

“ANDY!” I yell, vexed. I climb up the Maple tree

after him with ease, intending to take the bag of

sweetness back to its owner at the foot of the tree.

But unexpectedly, Andy drops the bag down to

the bottom. Unfortunately, the bag falls in the

fire, and bursts into flame. A huge roaring flame.

I’ll bet 100 bucks he bug spray on it. A low branch

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catches fire from the bag, and then its trunk.

Andy climbs down fearlessly, but my bravery

only goes so far. I know I should jump while I

can, but my mind doesn’t let me. As I am stuck in

the tree, high above my friends, I watch. I watch

Anne-Sophie drop her camera and flee. Much

faster than she got here. I watch Erin sprint after

the path to safety, leaving me here. I look through

the rapid flames to see if anyone else is left. But

no. I’m stranded. They forgot…..

Present

I wake up in a pile of ash. I’m very dirty,

and breathing is a struggle. All I can take in is

soot. I see a faint patch of light off in the distance.

It’s morning, the sunlight is white and calm, not

orange and fierce and loud. I have a throbbing cut

above my eye, probably from a branch, but I

brush the pain aside. I then look up. My eyes get

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less blurry as the time rolls on, and I realize that I

am below the tree. The one I was upon earlier. I

can only remember flashes of the evening. The

flame has ceased, except for a few smoldering

branches. All of the trunks are charcoal black.

They all are scorched. Then a flaming thing

catches my eye. Anne-Sophie’s camera! I pick it

up and blow. Blow hard. The fire ends. The piece

of plastic nearly burns me, for I’m not thinking

straight. I am amazed that this piece of plastic had

stayed intact. It’s hot, and it doesn’t work

anymore, but I find it amazing. After some time

though, I feel mad about the matter. Why did this

survive, and not a bird, or a mole. It had to be an

indifferent piece of trash. Now I was mad. I drop

the garbage carelessly.

There is no sign of anyone, anywhere. I’m

all alone, and extremely disoriented. I cannot

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remember which direction by cabin is. This is

probably because I am super hungry, and my

head is about to explode because questions are

filling it to the absolute limit of its power. The

pounding in my head in loud and distracting. I

trust my instincts, and turn. I walk a while, and

start to recognize my way, but everything’s

burned up. Everything. How did this fire spread

so far? It seems utterly... impossible.

I pass the woodworking shack, all that is

left are the metal machines that cut the wood,

along with a few smoldering boards. In a minute I

pass what used to be the theatre. It has burned

down tremendously, it’s sitting there still

smoking. Hardly recognizable lights racks are in

the middle of a pile of dust.

Did anyone die?, I wonder suddenly. But I

think against it. Camp Free-Field is very safe. We

8

have fire drills once every two weeks. I don’t

think anyone would have passed away in this

incident, but then again, I don’t know how fast

the fire…..blew in.

I walk slowly towards the cabins. I see

“The Lions” cabin. There are six more cabins until

I reach the lake, where I can wash. “The Lions” is

completely burned down, but the tin sign is

hanging from a coaled board of wood by one

tired out screw. I sit, and toy through the boards

of wood, the metal beds, the smoldering sheets

and teddy bears, along with smoking plastic

mattresses laying around, hoping to find

something that wasn’t burned that was of some

value, maybe a counselor's phone that still works?

Instead, I find a scorched flashlight, that

surprisingly still gives off light, so I’ll keep that

with me, but I drop the chewed up boxes and

9

melting polyester shirts and sweaters and such. I

do find a few wool sweaters that didn’t burn

through, but I leave them, for “The Lions” cabin

is for housing younger kids, so none of the wool

products that survived would even fit me.

I keep walking to see the Dining Hall. Half

of the building was scorched, but the back half

remains untouched. The fire must have ended

here. Also, the trees stop being burned here, but

something else stops too. I don’t know where

anything is beyond the dining hall. We are not

allowed to go past it.

I go down to the lake and wash my face

and hands. Then, I see that all of the canoes and

Picos (those tiny sailboats) were taken out. The

camp must have sailed away. But Where? When?

Was I already fainted? Was anyone else left

10

behind? My mind packs itself with questions. I

bend over and clutch my head.

The water is quite brisk, and a fog hangs

over the lake. The little sand between the grass

and the water is moist against my bare feet rawed

by the tough ground. My face feels good,

dripping with fresh water. At last, I see my cabin

in the distance. It is out of the way of the path I

was following to the lake. My curiosity gets the

best of me, so I walk up the scorched hill to my

cabin, “Lakeview.” My cabin was surprisingly

untouched by the fire. Well, not quite. Part of the

wooden structure was damaged by a burned

down tree. It crashed through the ceiling and

destroyed the 2 middle beds and areas. The fallen

tree is my oak. My oak. The oak I used to climb

on. My friends and I would play in it every day.

11

The oak I climbed on just yesterday. Could that

be? Yes.

I enter, to see the small and cozy cabin,

with enormous windows that look towards the

lake from the huge hill it is upon. The beautiful

view that gave the cabin its name. Part of me just

wants to lie down in my bed and sleep until the

morrow, but I quickly dismiss the idea, I need to

find everyone before they get too far. Where are

they headed? And why did they leave me to die?

I go to my small shelves that hold my

limited belongings, and change my dusty and wet

clothes to clean, fresh and warm clothes. As I go

through all of my stuff, making sure there is

absolutely nothing I need, a box of letters from

friends and family crashes to the floor. I pick up

one of the letters, and unfold the yellowish paper.

12

It was from the first week. My grandma. The

letter read:

July 1st, 2014

Dear Alekander,

I have been thinking about what an

experience you are having. What a lucky boy you

are. There is nothing much going on down here in

Florida. we just got a new printer. Gramps is

teaching me how to use it. I’m afraid I’m not too

good with modern technology. I’m sure you are!

Last year, I remember you telling me your

favorite activity at camp was life-skills. Back in

the day, it was my favorite activity as well!

Long ago, when I was about your age, after

a fun filled summer at camp, where I learned to

hike, fish and build fires and forts, my apartment

building caught fire. I was very astonished and

surprised. My little sister, (Your Great Aunt

13

Sherry,)was left in her cradle. A brave fireman

luckily got her out on time, but every time I think

of you building fires and making forts, I think of

that moment because I had learned many life-

skills that summer. It was very scary, but the

event united my family.

Xoxox, Granny Annalise

P.S. I hope you can read my handwriting!

I look across the room at the fallen tree and

go over the line again and again. The event

united my family. The event united my family.

The event united my family. The event united

my family.

I think about it for a couple moments, and

knowing Granny Annalise is an optimist, I can

see her making good out of horrible events but...I

can’t think of anything good that will come from

this. This is horrible. I crumple up the note and

14

stuff it in my pocket, just incase I need a boost in

courage.

I then check by Gregg’s bed. He’s my

friend who always stows food away in his

daypack during mealtime. As I open his bag, I

find two rolls, and an apple. As I am famished, I

eat the apple now, but save the two rolls. I cross

to Erin’s bed. I fish around for some matches,

knowing they are necessary in survival, and stuff

them into my pocket.

I exit the cabin with my flashlight and a

filled up one liter water bottle along with Gregg’s

rolls. I run down the hill, now on a quest to find

some sort of boat I can chase them after with.

Once down at the swim doc, I see a small kayak.

The only remaining boat is the yellow one with

mold on it that no one bothered to take because it

sucks. It’s the worst kayak of all time. But hey!

15

That’s better than nothing. I get in the thing and

get on my kayak skirt, and get my paddles into

place and start. I turn left, because that is the side

of the lake that leads to town. (I learned that in

orienteering.)

After at least two miles I stop, carry my

kayak up onto this rock sticking out from a forest,

and manage to shiver myself to sleep after I drink

some water and eat a damp roll with raisins and

hearty nuts inside it.

***

I am very wet in the morning. My hair is

short, but has somehow managed to tangle itself.

I get back in the yellow kayak laying next to me,

and paddle off into the midst of the morning air.

As I paddle along, the violent sheets of wind

press against my face. They transform my nose

into a numb piece of cartilage. Paddling into the

16

wind on a bad kayak isn’t very pleasant, but

nevertheless, I proceed. I kayak until dawn. I am

getting increasingly hungry, and my water bottle

is only half full. I decide to eat my final roll. Then,

I find it necessary to stop for the night to find

more food. I haul the kayak onto a ledge of land

that leads somewhere, and put it in a patch of

shrub. After ten minutes of walking, I find a lush

bush of raspberries. I eat them by the mouthful,

extremely quickly. I rip off a piece of my

undershirt, to create a basket. I fill the piece of

cloth with the maximum amount of berries, and

then tie the ends up. I carry my goods back to the

bush holding the kayak, and collect pine needles.

I get a crazy amount of them into a pile. Before I

throw myself into the middle of the mass of pine

needles, I take out Granny’s note, and read,

taking deep breaths the whole while. And then I

17

sleep in the pile of pine needles, leaves and

flowers. I have trouble falling asleep, but when I

I wake early, and am lucky to find a box of

matches in my pocket, that hasn’t gotten too wet.

The were Erin’s. I cook up some Robin’s eggs

quickly, and then go. I learned how to cook wild

eggs in fire-building a couple weeks ago in camp.

As I board my boat I cross my fingers in hope that

I will not get sick.

I paddle a while, and I reach the clearing in

the lake. No islands or anything. I feel for the first

time in two days...lonely. I was so caught up on

finding my friends. I didn’t even think twice

about..dying. I feel cruddy, and I need rest on a

soft bed. I paddle, even though my arms lack

strength. And I stay awake to stay alive.

I keep brushing through the water until I

come to the end of the lake. I’m filled with joy,

18

even though I don’t have the slightest clue where

I am. If I hike long enough, I’ll have to find a

house with a person willing to let me use their

home phone. Or, I might find town! My throat is

as dry as the Grand Canyon on the hottest day of

the year. I need hydration. I don’t have iodine to

purify, so I don’t dare drink the lake water.

I get out of the kayak, and let it free. “Bye,

stupid old cruddy kayak.” I whisper to myself.

I walk and walk for an extreme amount of

time, until I find a fresh pond. I make sure the

water’s clean. It’s clean enough. I fill my empty

water bottle and sooth my cracked lips and

parched throat. I slumber under a willow, the

wind swaying me to sleep.

I wake up to the fresh morning breeze,

seeing a wad of smoke rising up into the air. A

person. With a fire. I run towards the smoke. I

19

lose my footing after ten minutes, and fall off a

rocky ledge. I tumble violently down to the lake

and splash into the muddy and shallow water.

I am mad at myself for forgetting that I

was hiking up a steep mountain. The ledge was

so steep, and scrapes on my face, elbows and

knees start gushing. I feel my face swell up.

Way Before Any of This

My mom packs my bags slowly. Triple

checking I have everything I need for camp. I am

very excited going into my fourth year at Free-

Field camp. Adventures await me. Of what sort, I

do not know. I will meet new friends, and have

s’mores on campfire night. I’ll see my best friends

on that night, Lucie Marrant, Cameron Haddox,

Phin Magann, Stella Grinchi, Anne-Sophie

Welder, and Luc and George Parit. The best night

20

of the summer is campfire night. I love campfire

night.

My mother says she will miss me this

summer, and I’ll miss her too, but I am craving

the fun that awaits me.

Once my bag is all packed up, I take it into

the kitchen, and roll it over the white and black

tiled floors, out of the house, and I haul it in the

car, excited for the drive to camp.

“As we roll out of the Hoboken parking

Garage, mom says, “Turn on your phone, and

open Waze. It will tell us the best route to Free-

Field. ”

The trees look like spilled green dye, as our

car races by them. Suddenly the sign for my camp

appears. My mom slows our SUV. I get out of our

car and breath in the fresh air. The crisp, woodsy

air that fills miles to explore.

21

“Anne-Sophie!” I run over to see my best

friend from elementary school. She got into

Hunter, and didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

After she got in, her parents moved to the West

Village. I was left behind in Hoboken. I like it

there though. I used to spend a lot of time at the

skate park near my building with Bruce

Beginsester until he punched me in the face,

breaking my twice-broken nose yet again, and

our family friendship.

Anne-Sophie and I used to take swimming

at the YMCA on the West Side, near Pinkberry.

Our parents used to be friends until my dad left

my mom. I was eight. Anyway!

“Aleksander! I’m so glad to see ya! Meet

Shyla and Layla, two friends from Hunter!”

She’s always been better at making friends

than I am…

22

The Present

I got up onto my feet, and started walking

up towards the fire. It was mid afternoon. The sky

was bright, but not as fresh and watery as a

morning sky. I trekked for hours, being careful

not to slip again. I stop to rest on a big rock the

size of a camp cabin, and sit. I take a sip of water,

and take off my daypack, leaving it on the rock so

I can explore without the load. I don’t go that far

away from the rock, but I find a clearing. I see a

tent.

I’m too excited to think straight. People!

I run around to the entrance. I see a girl

with messy, long brown hair. The girl is wearing

a pink tank-top. Her shorts are ripped, and

bandages cover her left leg. Her white converse

are contaminated with layers of mud. It is Anne-

Sophie.

23

“Anne-Sophie!” I scream. Standing in front

of me is a sickened and dirty version of my best

friend. Her brown hair is sprawled all over her

face. I run to her, embracing her. She is absolutely

bewildered.

“Wha-?” She says. “Aleksander! I thought

you died in that fire. I cried a long time, begging

Erin and Laura and Dameon and Aralia to um..

let us go back and get you but we jus-” Anne-

Sophie is cut off by Erin.

“Sweet Jesus! It’s Aleksander!” She

screams. “Aleksander! Oh my god! I thought you

died in the woods. By the campfire. I wanted to

go back and get you, but we couldn’t it wa-”

“It’s fine.” I say, even though it’s not, and

the camp should be closed, and Erin should be

fired. I corrected myself. “I’m fine. I got out in the

lake using the yellow chewed up kayak. I hiked

24

here and stole robin’s eggs and Gregg’s stolen

rolls and fruit to feed myself. Do you have

anything else I could eat!? I’m sick of under or

over cooked eggs, and damp rolls.”

“Omigod! Of COURSE! Do you want Kool-

Aid? Or.. a Graham Cracker! A Marshmallow?

Cookies! Hot-Dogs! A freshly cooked Burger?!

What ever you want!” Erin squeals.

Aralia, the life skills counselor walks over

and pats me on the back as Erin is screaming

every food imaginable. “Surprise, surprise! I

knew you’d make it! Well done, my little

survivor,” She says.

Aralia puts her pink and whitish-blonde

hair into a messy bun and asks me how I did it. I

stutter. “Umm..Well I just…” I trail off. “I just

remembered everything you’ve ever told me..”

25

I watch her purple coated lips move to say

that I was the best camper she’s ever taught.

26

Charlotte Robertson grade 6 Water

Everyone has a secret. It can be small (you

are accidently wearing mismatched socks) or big

(like my grandma’s belief in being abducted by

aliens). But mine’s a little different.

My name’s Valerie, by the way. I live with

my mom and dad. We live in a house near the

sea. There are a lot of boats. Many people go

swimming, but not me. I’m terrified of water.

That’s not my secret though. The reason is why

I’m scared of water. But it’s complicated. I might

not have started out right. I need to go back to a

few years ago.

***

Ever since I could remember I loved surfing.

Dad taught me and I did it every time I went to

27

the beach, which was often. My board was so tiny

compared to Dad’s and we’d head out in the

water together, laughing, splashing each other,

and Dad would always help me. It was

sensational to me; when I stood up on the gliding

board, rushing through the water I’d feel like I

could do anything. Mom, who doesn’t typically

like to swim in the ocean, would stand on the

sand, cheering me on. In fact, that’s exactly how

the day went.

“Ready, Valerie?” Dad asked. I was seven

years old at the time.

“Yeah, let’s go!” I grinned, grabbing my

mini board.

Mom, Dad, and I walked down to the

beach, my flip-flops kicking up sand as I walked.

Mom set a blanket down near the ocean and I sat

down in the shade of the umbrella.

28

After squirming through Mom applying

sunscreen to me Dad helped me carry my

surfboard down to the water.

Dad waded in the water with me. It was

high tide, so I couldn’t reach the bottom, but Dad

could. He helped me get on my board, and once a

wave came, gave me a little push.

“Woo-hoo, go Valerie!” Mom called,

holding a video camera.

“Again!” I laughed.

“Sure,” Dad smiled, and I got back on.

On my seventh time I rode a bigger wave

than usual. Dad stood behind me, smiling as I

glided on the wave. Mom was waving and giving

me a thumbs-up. I stood up and got into position,

my hands up for balance. But the wave was big.

A bit too big.

29

I went faster than ever before. And the ride

was long. I was gliding when I stepped too close

to the nose of the board. By now I was right in the

shallow water, and I didn’t even see the rock.

My board took a nose dive, and I fell.

Usually no biggie, but as I was stumbling to get

up the following wave pushed me over, which I

wasn’t expecting. I tumbled through the water

and hit my head, hard. I saw all the colors: the

blue of the sky, the white of the clouds, the yellow

of the sun, the green of the water that day. Then

black. I became unconscious.

As my parents tell the story:

“Valerie!” Mom screamed, rushing over to

me. “Nathaniel!” she called to Dad. He ran over.

He looked at my pale face and dialed 911 while

Mom tried to remove the water from my lungs.

30

I was okay, though. The ambulance arrived

just in time and brought me to safety. When I

woke I found myself in a white room with green

curtains on the windows. My parents were next

to me, and a doctor in a lab coat sat in a chair near

the bed I was resting in.

“What is your name?” Dr. Cole asked me.

“Uh, Valerie Evans.” I responded.

“And who are these people?” he gestured

to Mom and Dad.

“My parents.”

“Okay, and where do you live?”

“156 Mulberry Street.”

“She’s going to be fine,” Dr. Cole reassured

my parents.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Mom hugged me

while Dad let out a sigh of relief.

***

31

My parents decided I would be

homeschooled. Because of the accident they kept

a close eye on me. And I was glad, because Mom

had always wanted to be a teacher. She was good

at it, too.

My parents were fun. I liked that I had so

much time at home instead of having to get up

early in the mornings to go to school. Of course

Dad still worked, but he was a book illustrator, so

I still got to see him everyday. And Mom was

now my teacher. But she taught in a different, fun

way and played games with me to help me learn.

A month later Mom announced that her

old friend Diana had invited us all over to her

house for dinner. Her house was huge, all for just

two people. (Diana and her husband). They also

had the most amazing pool I’ve ever seen. It was

gigantic.

32

“Sophie, so glad you could make it!” a

plump woman with black hair came out of the

house. “Oh, is this little Val? You got so big!” she

kneeled down next to me. “Oh, listen to me,

talking too much. I bet you want to go swimming,

don’t you?” Diana took my hand.

“Valerie, would you like to swim?” Dad

asked. I was sitting at the edge of the pool, my

feet in the water. “Valerie?” he asked again.

Valerie? Valerie? his voice echoed in my head.

Water, water, water, water, water. The trees seemed

to chant the word. Water, water, water. The water

slapped against the tile wall of the pool. Its

slippery hands seemed to be dragging me in.

“NO!” I screamed, tears in my eyes. I got

up and ran, going nowhere. I unlatched Diana’s

gate and kept running, ignoring Mom and Dad’s

call. I ran until I couldn’t hear the trees chanting

33

anymore. I ran until I got tired and collapsed

under a bush.

Then the tears came. Big, heavy ones,

spilling off my cheeks and falling on the dirt. No

way. I was not going to swim. Ever. I cried until I

had no tears left.

Eventually, being the seven-year-old that I

was I walked slowly back to Diana’s house. Mom

was standing on the deck, her eyes scanning the

fields beyond the gate. When she saw me, I

expected her to be mad, but she just hugged me.

She was crying too.

I fell asleep in the car.

I’m twelve now. Five years after The Wave.

Knock-knock. “Come in.” I said.

“Valerie?” it was Mom.

“Hmm?”

“Can I talk to you?”

34

“Uh-huh.” I was doodling in my notebook.

Mom sat down. This was serious.

“I think you are ready for a real school.”

she started.

“What?!” I screamed.

“It’s called Cedar Road Middle School, and

I really think you should go. It’s a wonderful

place to learn, and I can’t teach you everything.

Obviously, this is up to you, so I’ll give you some

time to decide.” she explained.

“Okay.”

***

On the first day I walked into the

classroom and everyone dissolved into whispers.

I knew they were talking about me, but I mean,

how couldn’t they? Thankfully the teacher didn’t

make me stand up and introduce myself like I

had read in books.

35

At lunch I sat alone. Dad had made me a

sandwich, so I didn’t have to eat the school lunch,

which was pretty gross. I think it was supposed

to be Macaroni & Cheese, but it sure didn’t look

like it.

My first day was in October, so it wasn’t

like your typical first day of school. When I

walked into History the teacher told us to take

out our pencils for the quiz. Uh-oh. When I got it

back a week later a big C minus was marked at

the top of my page.

Finally (finally, finally, finally, finally,

finally) it was the weekend. My parents love to

sleep in so I passed their do not disturb sign

hanging on the door, left a note at the table, and

walked outside.

My house was very close to school, and

somehow I found my feet leading me there. I sat

36

on the school steps, lost in thought, when a little

girl around five walked up to me.

“Would you like some cookies?” she

asked.

“Sure, how much?” I replied.

“Um, I don’t know. I’m just supposed to

sell them for the Girl Scouts.”

“Well, why don’t you ask your mom?” I

offered.

“I don’t have a mom. Or dad. I go there.”

the little girl pointed to a big building across the

street that I have never, ever in my life noticed

before, even though it was enormous. Engraved

at the top were the words: COLD STONE

ORPHANAGE. I walked the little girl back there.

“Oh thank you for returning Anna. She

likes to wander.” a lady with curly red hair

greeted me.

37

“Oh, no problem.” I replied.

***

On the bulletin board for the orphanage was

a sign that read, Help Wanted! Take care of a few

adorable kids for three hours! Before I knew what I

was doing, I wrote my name on the first line.

Ding-dong. I rang the doorbell.

“Hello, you must be Valerie.” an elderly

lady opened the door. She had an apron streaked

with flour tied around her waist. I walked in.

“The little kids you will be watching today

are in the kitchen. We were just making cookies!”

the lady laughed. Cookies? I thought. Nothing like

what I had read about, like Little Orphan Annie.

Anna was standing on a step stool, mixing

batter in a bowl. A toddler sat in a big wicker

chair, talking to a teddy bear. A girl around seven

was reading an easy chapter book, and a baby

38

was asleep in a crib. Anna pulled me by the finger

into the kitchen.

“You’re the one who was going to buy my

cookies.” she said.

“That’s right. Good memory!” I smiled at

her. Anna hugged me. She was so small

compared to me, so I lifted her up and carried her

into what looked like a living room.

“What’s your name?” she asked as I set her

down on the couch.

“Valerie.” I replied.

“Valerie? Ooh, that’s fun to say!” she

giggled.

***

I worked at the orphanage for a while. I

loved all the kids, but my favorite was Anna. She

was just so sweet and nice to me.

“Valerie?” she asked me one day.

39

“Yes?”

“Can I see your house?”

“Well, sure. Would you like to come home

with me tomorrow?” I suggested.

“Yeah!”

So the next day Anna followed me home.

To get to my house you have to cross a

little bridge about two feet from the water. A

rickety old ladder stands by it, and I like to

imagine who used the bridge so long ago to

swim. I never thought about it much before, just

the way to get home, until fate used it to play a

cruel trick. We were walking across it when Anna

slipped on a piece of seaweed and fell into the

water. Deep water.

“Help!” she gasped. “I--I can’t swim!”

40

I stood there, frozen. The trees began to

chant. Water, water, water. I saw Anna’s head

disappear into the blue sea. Water, water, water.

“No!” I yelled. “I’m not losing you!” Water,

water, water the trees argued. “I don’t care that it’s

water!” I replied, and dove under. I knew what it

was like to be scared. That’s what made me do it.

It was cold, and the salty sea pressed

against me, wondering where I had been for the

past five years. Anna’s body was slowly falling to

the sandy bottom. I swam deeper, my eyes

stinging from the salt. I could hear the muffled

tree chant above. Quiet I told the trees. Deeper

still I grabbed Anna and pulled her to the surface.

Gosh, she was heavy.

But she was okay.

The End

41

Alina Pearlroth grade 7

The Unluckies

The air flowing through my hair. The car

moves further and further from the party. A

simple party it was; a dozen people, some food,

that was it. I stayed with the not adults. We're not

adults because, we're not trusted to make

decisions of our own, or love who we want to

love. Society forms us into these drones of

misunderstoodness. Some of us loud, happy, and

full of life, they are the luckies; the others are

forgotten, but noticed the most. A fake smile is

our mask, and our mask is everything to us. That

mask disguises us as one of the luckies, but we're

not. We sit in our rooms at two in the morning

contemplating if it's even worth it anymore. We

are seen as emo, or an attention seeker; but we're

42

broken. For whatever reason, something inside of

us has broken. And since we're broken we don't

live on like everyone else, we despair on how

we're broken. We're like a handful of patients in

an insane asylum, we all deal with our insanity in

different ways. Some take the knife, some the

pills, others take the pencil and paper. That's how

it begins, slowly, but as our insanity grows, the

marks get deeper and multiply, the pills multiply,

and paper and precious words are wasted. And

as our insanity takes over, the mind begins to die,

that's all it wants, is to die. And some fall victim

to this awful mind bend and end up taking the

gun, the pills, or the rope, and ending it. They

can't move on, so they end it. They are not weak,

but the greatest fighters of them all. Then there

are those who hide, they pick up the headphones

and drown out the thoughts, they, like the rest of

43

us, lock themselves away. They two are the

fighters. It takes bravery to hide from what you

know you can't escape. But every road leads to

the same ending, no matter the twists or turns on

the way, we all go the same way. We all sink

deeper and deeper into that dreamlike state. We

all hear the voices. We all suffer behind closed

doors.

We, are the unluckies.

44

Josephine O’Brien

grade 6 The Enslaved Violinists

I had gone some ten or twelve steps in this

matter when the torn hem of my robe caught my

heel, causing me to stumble till I fell violently,

face forward. I flailed my arms about, bracing

myself for impact on the hard wooden floor, but it

was to no avail. The floor never came. I was

falling headfirst, down a dark and dirty pit.

I came to my senses with my face pressed

into the stone-cold ground. I couldn’t feel the

aches that were inevitably running through my

body, due to my congenital insensitivity to pain.

The air was hot, pressing into my body like a

suffocating towel. I dug my hands into my skirt

pocket, and learned that they had removed my

pocket knife. All I had now was a measly sewing

45

kit. All was dark, except for a speck of light

hundreds of feet above me. I knew that light.

That’s where I was right before I fell. It was the

courtrooms of the Inquisition. They let me go free

of charges, but I should have known better. At the

moment I was in the depths of the darkest

dungeon, my eyes barely able to puncture the

sable black.

I pulled myself up off the slimy ground. I

took a deep breath, and took a step. I walked

about with my hands outstretched, worried I

would fall once more into a deeper, darker

dungeon. After each step I prayed a longer

prayer, over and over again, until my hands hit a

hard, metal wall. To my surprise, when my hands

hit the wall, the room became illuminated with a

dim light. The room I was in was small, and

littered with signs I didn’t bother to read. I wasn’t

46

a good reader anyway. To my right was a tunnel,

which was in no doubt going to lead me

throughout my interminable prison. I was

walking towards the tunnel, when I brushed my

palms against the wall once more. The iron

bindings began to slowly concave. My

subterranean prison was shrinking upon me.

I felt sick. The claustrophobia I had

compressed in my soul for years maneuvered its

way out of my brain. I had myself a dilemma, if I

did say myself. I could die here, in a slightly

horrible death, or I could go on. I was inevitably

going to die in the end, but which death would be

more painful? Not physically painful, but

mentally . Which death would be better? I could

lie here and die, or I could continue on and die a

worse death. I could also die an easier one. My

mind was scrambled like one of my chicken’s

47

eggs. What was I to do? Who was I kidding,

dying was one of those things you want to get

over quick. I knew that in five minutes my soul

would be no more, my body just another one

lying at the bottom of an Inquisition dungeon. I

knew I wasn’t thinking straight; I knew the

rediscovered claustrophobia was creeping upon

my mind. But when something’s invading your

mind, you can’t think straight, you surrender. I

lied down against the stone ground once more.

The walls were closing in, and I knew I was

almost dead. Only a drastic change of heart

could’ve saved me then. I was ready to die; the

walls were almost upon me. I was dying, and

freezing under the pressure of fears past.

Next thing I knew I was rolling out of the

way of the iron jaws. I was on the other side of

the room, in the tunnel. I had saved myself. My

48

life came back to me at the last moment. I

couldn’t die, not as a coward. If I was going to

die, I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. As

soon as I entered the tunnel, the shrinking of the

walls stopped. My tunnel was crude and made of

rock, but it was manageable. It went on for as

long as I could see. It was obvious I’d be doing

some walking. But inside I knew I couldn’t walk

anymore. I was running on the adrenaline left

over from the wall scare, and that was slowly

draining from my body. I was… tired. I needed to

rest. You may not believe I could be tired a

situation like that, but I was. The slumber was

slowly pulling down at my eyelids. I curled up on

the rough stone floor and was asleep within

minutes.

I awoke to the sound of faint violin music.

My dungeon must have been under the town

49

square. That must have meant that if I kept

walking, I could maybe make it to the surface. I

could make it home. I was going to follow that

music, because it would surely lead me to some

undetectable pit in the town square. So I stood

up, and started to walk. You may think it’s easy

to follow music, but it was actually quite tricky.

The tunnel branched off in a few places, so I got

lost numerous times. But I knew I was on the

right track. As I walked, the symphony got louder

and louder. I was able to detect what it was. It

was a children’s song, something about Sebastián

having surgery. My younger sister, Maria, used to

listen to the “Niños Concerts” in the square, and

that song was always her favorite.

“Poor Sebastián,

he’s having surgery,

call the doctor,

50

and call the nurse,

use the knife to cut him open,

now he’s all better,

now he’s not sick.”

I recalled the lyrics in my brain. The

memories of Maria, just a wee child at the time,

dancing in the square pulled at my tear ducts. But

I could not cry, I would not cry. Crying was a

sign of weakness and cowardice. If I knew

anything, it was that I was not a coward. If I was a

coward I wouldn’t be here. My equation of escape

added up, except for one thing. I specifically

remembers “Niños Concerts” being on

Wednesday. If I’d slept for 8 hours earlier, it

would only be Sunday, or even Monday if I slept

for longer. I was too worked up on a new type of

adrenaline to really care about the facts. I walked

on and on, following the music. After what I

51

guessed was a few hours of walking, I came to

room. This room was no “town square.” It was

brightly lit sanitary sanctuary, filled with a dozen

violinists playing the song. They stopped playing,

and looked up. Everyone of them was staring at

me.

I tried to creep out of the room, as their

inquiring eyes gave me a bad vibe. There was

only one problem, there was no way that those

stares would let me. It was just me, against an

army of violinists. I stood there, for what seemed

like hours, although it was only a few minutes. In

that period of time, the enslaved violinist closest

to me came up to me silently. He looked at me

blankly, and I could tell that there was no soul

beneath his eyes. In utter silence, he raised his

violin above my head. I should have fought back,

but I was captivated by those soulless eyes. Before

52

I knew it, he let his violin come down with a

clank upon my head. My vision turned black.

I awoke after what seemed like eternal

sleep. There was a knot atop my head, which was

huge. I was in the same room that I was in before,

but I was lying down. I tried to move, but was

bound to a stiff metal table. Above me dangled

dozens of butter knives, and they were all

connected to some sort of apparatus. Six butter

knives were hanging from one leather strip, and

each of the thirteen leather strips were connected

to a metal cage. It was slightly terrifying, but

inside I wasn’t scared. What could they do to me

with a bunch of harmless butter knives? Sure,

they were butter knives, but unless they were

aimed for my eyes, it wouldn’t be that bad. And if

they did do something horrible, it’s not like I’d

feel it. All of the same enslaved violinists were in

53

the room, and each one of them was huddled

around their own personal “box”. Each box

seemed to have two rusting metal levers poking

out of it, one for each hand. Their concentration

was deep, not one of the violinists even twitched.

They paid no attention to me, I mean, I was only

strapped to a metal table with butter knives

dangling above me. I watched them for a while,

seeing if they would do anything. Nothing

happened, until one violinists’ hand slowly

pushed their lever, and above me I heard a

somber creek. One of the butter knives dangling

from the apparatus moved an exact six inches.

At that mark, every hand in the room

(except mine) was hovered over a metal lever. It

looked as though they were conjuring something,

doing spells or some other illegal magic. Their

hands limply hung there for a second, then each

54

and every one pushed their lever. The butter

knives spun around like a circus trick. The

apparatus started to lower, and the butter knives

approached my skin. They were like miniscule

devils, their sights set on flesh. They got it, their

snouts dug into my skin in the most thrilling race

I have ever seen. The spastic knives dug into my

thick flesh.

It all came to me then. The Inquisitors had

tricked me. Sebastián wasn’t having surgery, I

was. If I was smart, this wouldn’t have happened.

I broke away from my thinking. Since the butter

knives were dull, they still had not broken into

my skin. Beads of blood were forming

underneath my ripped blouse, until the gashes

opened. The spastic knives had a victory. I was

open, and was officially being operated on. I

couldn’t feel anything, yet I hurt inside. It hurt

55

me that I let them get to me. If I had been in my

right mind, I would’ve never have ended up on

the operating table. I looked down at my body.

Flesh, blood, and muscle were everywhere. The

spastic knives were going deeper and deeper into

my skin. Around me, the enslaved violinists

continued pushing their levers to and fro,

controlling my torture device. I knew that the

farther they went, the more blood I lost. My

vision was slowly turning black. I was dying. My

sight finally left me as I lost consciousness.

I awoke. The world was all fuzzy and

foggy, like a dream. Was I in heaven? No, I

couldn’t be. I could still feel the metal of the

operating table through my shirt. I looked down

at my body. My shirt was almost totally torn

apart. Gashes ran up and down my chest, leaving

muscle and bones exposed. I was stained with the

56

worst red, the red of blood. Above me, one of the

enslaved violinists looked down on me. He was

inspecting me. I could see that his face still

showed no emotion. But then he did something I

never saw one of them do. He talked.

“Don’t worry, Don’t lose hope, the sun will

come out tomorrow,” his voice seemed fake, but

it was something. It was the last thing I heard

before slipping into slumber once more.

The next time I awoke, I was no longer

strapped to the table. I was lying on the sanitary

white floor. My wounds were still open, and

silently dripping blood. They had left me to die.

For a moment I pondered this problem that I was

inevitably facing: dying. I wanted to die. I was

faced with the same dilemma from before. I could

lie here and die eventually, or I could continue

on. If I continued on I would eventually die. The

57

thing was, which one would be more painful?

Not physically, obviously I don’t care about that.

Which one would make me hurt mentally? I

could die here, or I could die elsewhere, as they

murdered the citizens of Toledo all because of me.

Compared to that, this death would be a good

death. But I still couldn’t bring myself to suicide. I

was going to get up, and continue on. Next to me

was an oversized men’s shirt and a stack of tissue.

I took off my shirt, which was cut up and soaked

with blood. I could never wear it again. Then I

removed the small sewing kit I had in my back

pocket, and did something no one without

congenital insensitivity to pain would ever do: I

sewed up my own wounds. My muscles and

bones were once again safe under the protection

of my skin. When I was done, I wiped the blood

away with the tissue, and put on the clean shirt. It

58

was very large, but I couldn’t complain. I was

alive, which was a pretty big deal.

I exited the room and continued down the

tunnel. It was once again dark. The door from the

surgery room closed behind me, sealing out all

light. The tunnel was no longer illuminated. I was

lost, and left to hobble around with my arms

outstretched once more. I found the side of the

wall and dragged my hand against it so I

wouldn’t get lost. The rough stone ripped at the

palms of my hands, but I knew that initial

sacrifice wouldn’t matter in the face of death. As I

walked I started realizing that every few feet

there was a tiny metal plaque, like little markers.

As I stopped to inspect one with my hands, I

noticed the plaques were in the shape of suns.

They must have been a sort of “secret code” that

lead inspecting Inquisitors through the rooms.

59

I followed the suns for what seemed like

hours, although it could have been only a few

minutes. The tunnel reached a dead end. Light

came out of a staircase to my right, and I followed

it up. I had reached the outside world, and I was

free. Above me, the sun shone high. Just like the

enslaved violinist said, just like the plaques had

upon them. I was being led here. I entered a

square in town. It was filled with spectators, who

were watching me. In the center of the square was

the Inquisitor from my trial.

“Well I see you’ve made it!” he announced.

“How do you like our little setup? Look at the

sun, coming’ out above you. Just like you heard

about from your littl’ frien’ , but I’m assumin’ this

was not the way you thought the next time you

saw the sun would go.” the Inquisitor’s voice

60

taunted me cruelly, like he was playing a

wretched joke.

“And this man,” the enslaved violinist who

administered the line about the sun came into the

square, “he was working for us the whole time,

and he was never drugged like the rest of them.

We planted him in the surgery room so he could

give you false hope, and you’d continue and not

kill yourself. He works with your sister at the

teatro theater company. I believe his name is

Juan.”

Juan Carlos, I remembered him. He played

Romeo in the teatro theater company production

of Romeo and Juliet. Carla, my sister, played Juliet.

I looked at the crowd. “Hey!” I yelled to

the Inquisitor, “were these people watching me

the whole time?”

61

“Yes, didn’t you see the signs in the first

room? The ones that said, ‘you are being

watched’? I don’t think we could’ve been more

straight forward than that.”

Of course, they were the signs Even if I

was to read them, I would’ve thought they meant

by Inquisitors, not a mob of Toledoeians.

“I can see you didn’t,” the Inquisitor

announced. I heard a spattering of laughs from

the crowd. “Well, we can’t just let you go free, can

we? So we brought some of your family in.”

Carla and Maria were brought into the

square. They were being held onto by Inquisitors.

“Here’s the deal: Andre and Marco will slit

the necks of your sisters, and you have to stand

there and watch until they die. If you cringe, or

yell, or make them stop, this knife will be going

into your chest.” He held up a slick metal dagger.

62

I watched as the two Inquisitors holding

Carla and Maria raised their own daggers to my

sisters’ throats. I heard Maria squeal as the knife

cut her skin. Carla had her eyes closed shut. I

could tell she was in pain. Neither of them

acquired my congenital insensitivity to pain. I

couldn’t take it. I couldn’t let them just kill my

sisters. I looked over at Maria. She could tell I was

going to put up a fight and die. She mouthed a

word. It was: No. Carla mouthed the same thing.

I didn’t do anything after that. Maria and Carla

wanted me to live, and I honored their wishes.

Don’t think I’m selfish for that. I watched them

crumple to the ground in front of me, and it was

the worst feeling I could’ve ever felt.

I’m writing to you from an asylum just

outside of Toledo. They took me here right after I

watched my sisters die, when I broke down in the

63

town square. I have PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress

Disorder. I made up the name. My visitors tell me

that what happened wasn’t that bad, that I made

a mistake and should get over it. They don’t

understand, no one does. They think it’s great

that I don’t feel pain, but I feel pain now. Maybe

not physically, but the worst pain is never felt

physically; I feel my pain in my heart, on the

inside, and it’s slowly ripping me to pieces. So

here I sit, on the wooden desk of my padded

room, longing for a break from my oppression,

longing for the peace of eternal death.

The End

64

Eliza Gilbert grade 6

Infinite

Infinity Hall, or Fin for short, skidded to a

halt on her skateboard just outside of John F.

Kennedy Middle School. Or should I say, Middle

Skull. At least, that was what was graffitied on

the large black letters above the crowded public

school entrance. She yawned and rubbed her

eyes. Mondays are not the best days for any

middle-schooler. Hoisting her red and black

checkered backpack over one shoulder, she

prepared for another day of annoying high-

energy teachers, and kids who acted like they

were too cool to have anything to do with her,

and Mrs. Argon, perhaps the stupidest math

teacher on the planet. She did a quick kick flip on

her skateboard and trudged into another

65

humdrum day. Yet Fin should have been warned,

that this was no ordinary day. Because Fin, you

see, was no ordinary girl. You see, as she skated

into the school that day, she had her right arm

behind her back.. The arm that, from the elbow

down, was no more than a stump.

“Fin, may I have an answer please.”

“Infinity!”

“INFINITY!”

Fin jumped awake just a Mrs. Perri

charged over to her desk and snapped in her face

several times.

“Umm… sorry. Could, uh, you repeat the

question please?”

“This isn’t jeopardy Fin. What is the

chemical formula for sodium chloride?”

Infinity paused.

“Well. I’m waiting Infinity.”

66

“I, um… I dunno. Sorry Mrs. Perri.”

“You’ll be sorrier in a minute,” Mrs. Perri

declared, exasperated at Fin’s constant fatigue.

“For tomorrow please write a 500 word essay on

the functions of the body when asleep, Fin. Class

dismissed!”

As usual, Fin walked alone to recess. The

other kids honestly had no idea how to talk to

her. When they tried, it was just fake and

awkward. So they left her alone. Which was

perfectly fine with her by the way. The less

attention, the better. Her light blue denim shirt

and camo leggings were just too different for their

sparkles, glitz, and glam. But that was no reason

to think she was disabled. Physically maybe, but

people assumed just because she was born

without an arm, she couldn’t think or she was

“special”. Fin knew she wasn’t your average

67

school kid on the outside but what was wrong

with this generation if they couldn’t see that on

the inside, Fin was unique in a different way. She

knew legally, she could be anything she wanted.

But it didn’t feel that way. And oh, the stares. Fin

of course was used to it by now but when people

pretended not to be looking when they were

gaping; that was the worst. Or when they

constantly apologized, as if she had told them she

had two weeks to live.

Frayed high tops pounding against the

linoleum floor, she grabbed her skateboard from

locker 397 and dashed out to recess, long red hair

flying out behind her. Usually she stayed on the

side practicing tricks, but today she just watched

glumly. Fin was too tired and too annoyed by

science. Jealously, she watched boys chuck balls

back and forth and sighed. After recess came

68

boring homeroom with Mr. Connors. Or so she

thought. Mr. Connors was eerily silent as 6C filed

into the classroom.

“Mrs. Lambros you can bring her in now!”

He called out.

Fin was immediately startled because Mrs.

Lambros was the principal. What on earth was

she doing here. I guess I’m about to find out,

thought Fin, confused. But then the door opened

and Infinity Hall was absolutely shocked at what

she saw. A girl, with long, pin straight brown hair

and deep brown eyes. Her eyes had so much

dimension, it was like you could see directly into

her soul. They were also glaring down at the floor

and the girl’s face was red. From embarrassment

or rage, Fin did not know. And there was also one

more little detail. She was sitting in a purple

wheelchair.

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“Class, this is Kendall Nalley and she is

going to here at JFK Middle School with us for the

rest of the term. I know it’s a quarter through the

year but she just moved and had to… adjust. I

know you all will show her around and be very

supportive.” he said pointedly.

“Yes Mr. Connors!” the class chorused.

After class, his entire speech was

completely disregarded, except for Belle Carter,

the teachers pet, who kneeled down, pointed

Kendall in the right direction of the cafeteria

while talking to her like she was a baby, and then

flaunted off. Fin’s head was spinning. She

couldn’t actually talk to the girl. She hadn’t talked

to a peer at school in forever. But at the same

time, she remembered her first day of school last

year. She had been totally shunned the second

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she got into class. Fin took a deep breath, blinked

thrice, and headed to lunch.

The cafeteria was always packed, but

somehow Fin always managed to get her own

table. When Infinity was really little, she would

go to physical therapy to help her learn how to

use her stump. She had a prosthetic arm, but

never wore it. It was itchy, uncomfortable, and

besides; she had learned long ago not to care

what people thought. So when the new girl rolled

over to Fin’s table and began to eat, she didn’t

know what to think. There was a quick pause

where everyone in the room just stared at the odd

pair.

“There was nowhere else.” Kendall Nalley

said quietly, her head down.

Fin gave a small nod and resumed eating.

She heard Kendall take a deep breath and when

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she looked up, there was a tear running down her

face. Soon, Kendall caught Fin staring, wide-eyed.

She shot Infinity a dirty look and rolled off,

fleeing the cafeteria. Kids were pointing and

whispering, Without thinking twice, Infinity Hall

ran out of the cafeteria but not quick enough to

miss hearing a girl whisper,

“How sweet! The two freaks together.”

After searching and searching, Fin finally

located Kendall. In the 2nd floor girls bathroom.

Quiet sobs echoed through the hallway leading

up to the door and Fin questioned her decision to

seek her out. But there was no turning back now.

Cautiously, she opened the door and found

Kendall sitting in her violet wheelchair, a steady

flow of tears down her face. Infinity slowly sat

down.

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“I’m sorry if I upset you,” Fin attempted to

console her as best she could “I just wanted you

to know that I get it, even if you don’t think I do.

Being this way my entire life, well, trust me it

hasn't been easy.” She said in a hushed tone “ But

I also know that my moms favorite quote helped

through a lot of problems and injustices: ‘It is

during our darkest moments that we must focus

to see the light.’ Sometimes all I would think

about how unfair it was. Why me, you know? But

then I focused and saw the light, and I knew that,

in the long-run, I would end up being okay.”

Fin was quietly crying now and Kendall

looked like she had something to say.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she

breathlessly said, “I was in a crash and… I still

say it not fair. But all I can ever do is try, so I

guess I can try to see the light in the situation. As

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long as I have some help from my friend,” she

looked up slowly and there was a hint of a smile

on her face, “Thank you Infinity.”

74

Katherine Cook

grade 7 A Cat Called Holly

My mother always told me that I was born

in Rockefeller Center, underneath the Christmas

tree. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and the

last-minute shoppers sped from one sale to

another, desperately finding gifts. My sisters and

I were all named after Christmas-y things-

Mistletoe, Noel, and me, Holly. We all have jet

black fur and green eyes. We’re cats.

One year later, the tree lighting is about to

begin. I sit on a branch of the huge Christmas

tree, surveying the snow-covered landscape. Pop

stars sang catchy songs that even I knew the

words to. Suddenly, the tree explodes into light. I

fall off my perch in surprise and tumble to the

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ground. “What happened?” I say groggily, slowly

recovering.

“You got too risky, that’s what happened,”

says Mistletoe, stepping out of the shadows.

“And what would have happened?” I say

crossly. “I would be seen?”

“Yes, you would be seen,” adds Noel.

“You don’t want to get put in a shelter, do you?”

“Actually, I might like that. I’m pretty cute.

I’d get adopted, and I wouldn’t have to freeze my

paws off all winter.”

Mistletoe and Noel just stare at me.

They’ve heard this before. “Whatever,” Noel says.

“I’m gonna go to Central Park to catch a squirrel.

Coming, Mistletoe?”

“Of course,” says Mistletoe. “I won’t stay

here with my sister the pet.” They laugh and

quickly walk away, leaving me alone.

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I sigh. I don’t really get along with my

sisters. They enjoy the free life, and would always

laugh at the stories that Mom told us about her

past owners. But to me, it sounds pretty nice.

Regular meals and a warm bed- what’s not to

like? My sisters feel otherwise, and I’ve always

been the third wheel. Resigning myself to another

cold, hungry night, I trod back to the tree to sleep.

***

The sun rises, the birds are chirping, and

I’m starting to get frostbite on my tail. Yuck. I

quickly climb down the tree and stretch in the

winter sunlight before running down to the

nearest hot dog stand. The guy who owns it

always leaves the top open. He must lose a lot of

money. Munching on a stolen hot dog, I begin

walking to Central Park. I think I’ll watch the

skaters today. It’s always amusing to watch them

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knock each other over, and there’s usually some

forgotten food on the ground.

A flash of red fur darts through the trees as

I enter the park. Darn. I forgot about the Park

Cats. Mistletoe and Noel have joined, but that

won’t make them any friendlier towards me. I

hear they sometimes eat intruders. I’ll have to be

careful.

I quickly scale the nearest tree and look

around me. No sign of any other cats- good. I’m

going to travel through the treetops, just to be

safe. I jump from tree to tree, careful to keep my

disturbance minimal. But someone was bound to

notice, and now they do.

“Hey, who are you?” A tiger-like tabby

walks to the foot of my tree. “What are you doing

here?’

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“I’m- I’m Mistletoe and Noel’s sister.

Holly.”

“Oh, so this is Holly. Your sisters

described you well.” The red cat I saw earlier

steps out of the bushes. “Just a pathetic, sneaky

runt. She’s not any threat. Let her go, Maple.” The

red cat and Maple pad away.

My muscles relax in relief. Sure, it’s good

to be ignored, but sometimes I’d like to be taken

seriously. It’s hard always being underestimated.

I bunch my legs and jump to the next tree.

***

It’s a brisk day at the rink, and lots of

people have come to skate. A woman with long

brown hair whips by me in a jump before

spinning off again, knocking several disgruntled

skaters out of her way. I’ve been watching since I

got here. Once, someone started yelling at her,

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pointing to his fallen son. She just shrugged and

spun away. I like her.

A piece of popcorn falls on my head. I look

up to see a girl, about eleven years old, with hair

just like the woman on the rink. It must be her

daughter. I lick up the popcorn and paw her leg

for more. She giggles and pours down a few

pieces. One bonks me on the nose and bounces

away. I chase it, but by the time I return, the girl

is gone.

I should leave too. The sun is starting to

set, and the Park Cats are less lenient at night.

Besides, I don’t want to be late to the concert. I

stand up slowly and exit the rink, my tail

dragging in the snow behind me.

***

The concert will end soon. For almost two

hours I’ve hidden in the rafters of St. Patrick’s

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Cathedral, listening to beautiful music. I attended

this concert with my mom last year. I was a tiny

kitten, so I don’t remember anything except the

twinkling lights and my mother’s voice. She left

after we were six months old, assuming we could

take care of ourselves. The thought makes me sad.

I begin to climb down to the side of the stage. No

one will notice a small, dark cat, and I want to be

in the aisle for the last song.

The prelude of Silent Night begins to play,

and I stand stock-still in the center of the aisle,

spellbound. The cathedral’s doors are open, and I

can see snow gently falling outside amid the

bright Christmas lights. I listen as the choir begins

to sing.

The beauty of the song takes my breath

away. Music like this is my favorite thing in the

entire world. I am a spinning snowflake, drifting

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through the gentle melody. But before long the

song is over, and I land on the ground, back in

reality.

Immediately the spell is broken. The kids

rush toward their parents, jabbering in

excitement. For it is Christmas Eve, and soon

they’ll be home, so excited for tomorrow that

they’ll burst. And where will I be? On the tree in

Rockefeller center, watching as the lights go out,

one by one. I sadly wander down the aisle,

caution forgotten in my loneliness. Of course, my

mistake is noticed. They always are.

A small pair of hands gently scoop me up.

They pet me, from head to tail. It feels good, and I

raise my tail, looking up at the hands’ owners. It’s

the girl from the rink! Her mother sits beside her,

the long hair done up in an elaborate braid with a

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sprig of holly inserted in the end. I bat it, sending

the braid swinging to and fro.

“Mom, can we keep her?” The girl turns to

her mother with a pleading look in her eyes.

“She’s so cute! I saw her at the rink.”

“You did?” The mother turns to me, her

brow furrowed. “She must be a stray. She

probably doesn’t like people.”

Not true! I gently head-but her to show her

mistake.

“Or not.” She laughs. “Well, I suppose so.

What shall we name her?”

The girl scans the church, thinking. She

finally lands on her mother’s hair. “Holly,” she

says decisively. “For Christmas.”

“Perfect.” They smile down at me. “Let’s

go home and introduce her to Dad. I think he’s

home from work by now.”

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The girl grins with delight. She picks me

up, and together we leave the church.

As the Christmas lights flash by, I fill with

happiness. This is the first holiday I’ll spend in a

cozy house with people I love. All I wanted for

Christmas was a family. I’ve gotten my wish.

***

Snow falls gently in the peaceful night.

Amid the darkness, a single window glows, filled

with colored light. A man and women sit side by

side on a couch, watching their daughter play

with a small black cat. Two cats stare through the

glass, enchanted.

Noel and Mistletoe jump off the

windowsill. “I don’t know, Noel, having a human

family seems kind of nice.”

Noel drags her tail through the snow, and

looks up at the bright window above them.

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“Yeah, maybe,” she says. The two cats walk away

into the dark.

The End

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Wenhao Cai & Louise Sloss grade 5

Super Rosy!

In a world, where humans are too

distracted with technology, the only ones that can

save the world from evil and old technology are

animals. The best hero of them all was, Super

Rosy and her sidekick, Wild Wally. One of Rosie’s

powers is shape shifting. Since the food in the

white house was so good, Rosy might be heavier

than the average, which makes the shape shifting

become useful. Sadly, the shape shifting is not

weight shifting. Wally on the other hand has

super speed. She can steal your hair ties or ear

plugs without you even knowing. She also has

super claws. She likes to claw you to the hospital.

One day, President Sloss was going to go to

Shelter Island with her mom and one of her best

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friends, Ms. Cai. Sadly, for President Sloss she

had to leave Rosy and Wally behind. Luckily for

Rosy and Wally, an evil enemy was working it's

way to the white house and they had to be

stopped. So when President Sloss left, Rosy and

Wally went for a walk. They did not let their

guard down though. As they were walking, their

enemy showed up. His name was Television the

old TV.

"We've got you, Teli. You will not escape.

Wally charge!" Rosy said to Wally.

"Don't bother. I'm covered with your real

enemy, Land lines." Arti said evilly.

"Huh..." Wally and Rosy gasped at the

same time.

"Wally, activate the razor claws." So Wally

activated the emergency razor claws and charged

at teli.

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The land lines were cut in half and they left

teli screaming, "No! I paid $399.99 for those!"

Then they sent Teli to the radio shack dumpster

where he will be kept from civilization.

"Another day, another villain gone." Then

Rosy and Wally went back home to enjoy a nice

call on their new iPhones, again.

88

Bo Goergen grade 5 Revenge

¨Run, go!¨ Those were their last words. I

have nothing, no family, no friends, no life. Why

did they have to destroy everything? If I had one

wish it would be to snap every bone in their sin-

infested bodies, but it still wouldn’t heal my pain.

What did I do to deserve this miserable fate? As a

walk down this beaten up road their faces flash

before my eyes. Suddenly, red hot flames ignite

inside of me and I silently vow to kill the

murderers that made my life a living nightmare.

My first step is to get my hands on a weapon. I

rack my brain for any mention from my father

about a weapons dealer with no success. So I

decide to head straight to the next town.

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Suddenly I hear screaming in the distance,

I start to run toward the sound. After about two

minutes I come across a clearing in the woods. A

women is being carried off by a group of men and

a small boy is killed right in front of her. I stare in

horror because a light just went off in my head,

these men are the same people who killed my

family. Without thinking, I run straight toward

my prey. But before I can get my hands on the

assassins a scorching hot pain erupts in my foot. I

look down in horror, because a knife has sunk

beneath my flesh, I collapse.

I wake up tied to a group of boys who are

about sixteen, I was clearly the youngest. Why am

I here and not dead? After about one hour two

men tell us it is time to go. We are thrown into an

enclosed carriage. Somebody opens the door to

the carriage and drops us off at what looks like a

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slave market. We are pushed out of the carriage

and on to a platform. One by one groups of men

fill the square to look at me. A man with a whip

steps in front of me and starts yelling prices out

into the crowd. I am bought by a strong man with

an air of authority surrounding him. I am untied

and pushed toward the man. After a regain my

senses, I start to run away from my owner and

into the forest. I stop to rest behind a tree. When I

finally feel safe to stand up I find myself standing

face to face with my worst enemy, the man who

killed my family. I lung at him and start clawing

at his face. He pulls me off and cups his hands

over my mouth and nose, cutting off my air

supply. I have failed my parents, my friends,

myself, it is time to give in. I stop struggling and

close my eyes, dead.

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Cadence Plenge grade 6

Four Eyes

I had gone some 10-12 steps in this

manner, when the torn hem of my robe caught

my heel, causing me to stumble till I fell violently,

face forward. There, right beneath my chin, was a

hole, leading to infinity. My curiosity struck me

once again. I knew the outcome of my fate if I was

to fall. It seemed that if I did, death would

become the only option. But just as I thought that

I had agreed to keep this life I led, no matter how

unbearably solitary it may be, I jumped. The wind

lashed my face and eyes, causing them to swell

with tears. Through the tears I saw a tiny square

that seemed white, but I wasn’t exactly certain,

that was maybe about 100 yards away. Closer and

closer it got rapidly. It was only a matter of

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seconds until I realized that the mattress was

worn to bits. There were stains. Faded red ones.

My eyes closed, while I awaited my last few

seconds on earth. Before I knew it I hit the

mattress. My organs jumped out of place, and

blood seemed to stop flowing through my body.

But just when I thought Death was upon me, my

eyelids lifted clearing my brown eyes into view.

Only, there wasn’t any view. Just a foggy black.

There was light around me, coming from some

mysterious source, but only around me. I tried to

get my eyes to adjust, but I guess the pitch black

was beyond my limit of seeing. Drowsiness

started to overcome me and before I knew it, my

eyelids started to creep together, slowly, slowly

descending.

My eyes opened up to a fluorescent light

above me. The mattress was gone, and the floor

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replaced it. Everything around me remained a

blur. I tried to blink, hoping when I opened them

again I’ll find sight again. I rose from my fallen

state, trying to find somewhere to walk. Out of

the crescent of my eye, I see what appears to be

glasses, on a table, but very, very thick. I shuffle

my way towards them. I outstretched my arms to

reach, and open my hands to grasp them. I hang

the limbs of the glasses, and loop them around

my ears and suddenly everything came to focus.

I could see everything from the hangnail on my

pinky, to the floating strands of hair, drifting

away from my scalp. I began to look around,

staring at the walls in front of me. The details,

with engraved gold, caught me by surprise. My

eyes started to shift, when finally I found a

hallway, a passage if you may.

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Now with the advantage of sight, I found it

much easier to walk. As I left the strangely light

room, and into the peculiar and slightly

unwelcoming passage, I started to hear noises.

Not droning nor humming, just blurred voices.

“They” seemed to be trying to drive me in some

emotional direction which didn’t seem to be a

state of any content. I never heard exactly what

they were saying, but I knew it wasn’t friendly.

There seemed to have been a turn in the passage I

was walking on, so I tuned right, as did the

passage. The voices got louder and louder,

shouting incommunicable. I turned a little afraid,

not of the voices, but of the way they were

screaming at me, almost judging me. After what

seemed like 5 minutes they all stopped abruptly,

making the world around me see silence. Then all

of a sudden, I feel something shift. Not around

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me, but within my very body. That’s when I see

it. No…..see me. But in a way it isn’t. I get a better

look at it, and finally realized the horror behind

the truth. It was me. It had the same hands, legs

and feet as I do, but there was a barrier between

the two of us. I was alive, he was dead. Words

and images started to spin and flash in my head,

and found that my worst fear has driven upon

me. His eyes glared into mine, only causing his to

ablaze with a fire of pure hatred, hatred only the

devil himself would understand. He knew

thinking what I was thinking, then predicted my

next trail of thought, then the next, then the next.

He was breathing the same air as me, and

polluting it with fear every time he exhaled. We

both stood there, only looking at each other,

somehow making time slow. It was only until he

reacted did everything move fast.

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I ran harder than had I ever before. He

didn’t seem to be chasing me, but my initial

instinct was to run. My heart was beating like a

horses four feet pounding on a race track. My

head was swimming with confusion like a duck

in a swamp full of alligators. All the while, my

ears ringing from the air passing me, sounding

like a bull being whipped out of the way. I turned

right, only to find the long, straight passage I had

been on only a few minutes ago, was a short isle,

leading to a left turn. Sooner than I had thought, I

had turned 7 lefts, and 9 rights. By the time I got

to my last turn, I could hardly catch up to the

amount of breaths my lungs demanded. I

hunched my back over, trying to find a leveled

ground between standing up straight, and lying

down. After I took about 5 deep breaths, my

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heartbeat slowed down, and I could finally feel

my feet, I stood up straight.

As I looked around for the next turn in the

corridor, I saw that it was only a dead end. I

looked left and right, searching a way out of this

death trap. But there were no other options, other

than to go the way I went. I started to walk

towards the opening, when he appeared,

grounded in a way that seemed like the earth

only moved when his feet did. I inched my back

to the wall, trying to make myself as far away as

possible. I kept my eyes locked on his hands,

terrified of what awaits me. As he creeps closer

and closer, I try to think of any possible ways to

get away. No ideas come to mind, all I do is stare

at his meaty hands. Just when I think I would

breathe my last breath, I think of something. It

wasn’t anything elaborate, but maybe out of the

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slimmest of chance I would be able to survive. I

take hold of the glasses that had been put around

my ears, and gently replace them from my face.

My eyes close, and when I open, I face a room,

with a capacity of such dense black, it almost

seemed that the blackness would overcome me, to

such a volume, it would seem I didn’t exist.

That’s when it struck me. The glasses. They

had the power to control my fear. They were the

reason I had myself almost kill me. They showed

my innermost fear. But now, since I have defeated

the obstacle that is myself, my harassers

challenged me with, I am now here. As I glare

into the nothing that is the black, I realize that

fear can only harm you, if you decide to cower

beneath it. I breathe in victoriously, I find that my

mind has come to a different and unknown

emotion. Calm, and safety. My head fought with

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my body telling it to walk, but neither my legs or

arms moved. I sat down on what I supposed to be

the floor, and accepted the fact of myself stuck

the mysterious black room, with nothing but me,

and the world I now lived in, collapsed by night.

Forever.

100

Lily Greenberg grade 6

The Labyrinth

I had gone some ten or twelve steps in this

manner when the torn hem of my robe caught my

heel, causing me to stumble till I fell violently,

face forward. The scalding metal floor opened its

gaping mouth and I plummeted into its darkness,

the judges’ menacing laughter echoing and

surrounding me as I heard the trap door close

with a final-sounding slam that shouted my

sentence; “GUILTY”. The darkness wrapped

around me like a choking blanket, its tendrils

enveloping me, pushing their next victim further

down into the hole. It was so black that I could

only tell that I was falling because of the wind

blowing what was left of my shredded dress and

long brown hair backwards, cooling my face and,

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after weeks of scorching heat, it was almost a

relief. Relief! Ha! Me and my optimistic

foolishness. When would I ever learn? The only

relief for me was death. The Inquisition made

sure of that the moment they took me away. My

sigh was barely audible over the hum of air in my

ears. Arms and legs outstretched, I plunged

deeper into the seemingly infinite abyss like a

stone carelessly tossed into a black pool. I fell for

a long, long time before I finally hit bottom.

Nothingness. Then sudden stirring. Faces

and sounds flashed before me, swirling in my

mind like a tornado of memories: Catalina and I

laughing as the tax-collector falls down over his

own fat feet. Padre’s pipe smoke shrouding his

book like a cloud. Juan, the house cat, chasing a

loose string as I sew a patch onto my brown coat.

Maria winking at me as she puts pins in Pastor

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Barreto’s favorite chair so that she can stay home

and help me wash. Alejandro stopping by to say

hola after dinner. Abuelita’s fresh tortillas. Madre

smiling as I climb atop my horse for the last time.

When I finally regained consciousness, I

was laying on my back in extreme, blinding

blackness. I opened my eyes, turned, waited for

their white spots to clear away, then stared

directly into the blank, empty eyes of an ancient

human skeleton. I shrieked and shrank back

against the wall which I found myself against.

Hyperventilating, I tried to control the roaring,

pulsing thing that was my heart. Deep breaths, deep

breaths, in and out, in and out. I tried to distract

myself by studying my surroundings. They didn’t

make me feel much better. The walls were slimy

stone, with peculiar thin slits in them every five

feet or so. Penetrating from the thick, suffocating

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blackness were humongous beeswax candles,

about eight feet tall with flames two feet long and

deadly blue-hot, so bright that they hurt my

gloom-accustomed eyes. Farther in front of me,

the darkness continued, but the candles did not.

The heat of many months had taken its toll;

I was plagued by thirst yet again. My parched

lips burning, I decided to examine my

surroundings more closely for some source of

water. I stood up, took a few steps, arms

outstretched, and kneeled, overwhelmed by pain,

my right wrist screaming in protest. On top of

everything else, I had to land on my wrist. I studied

it. Or what was left of it anyway. The sight sent

my stomach hurtling into my throat. The bone

peeked out from inside my arm, white against

red. I tapped it gently and the white spots

returned to my eyes. With a painful groan, I

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tucked my knees under my legs into a sitting

position, looking at the frayed mess that used to

be my dress. My dress! I tore of a piece of the

grimy fabric with my good hand, then tied it

around the wound. This wouldn’t help much, but

at least now it wouldn’t get infected. Probably. I

waited for the spots to clear from my eyes again.

They finally did, but the blackness before me had

begun to have a strange shimmering quality to it.

Wait. That wasn’t my eyes. I scrutinized closer

and suddenly realized that the candles’ light was

reflecting of a mass of closely interconnecting

strings, each about three inches wide.

I looked closer at the web before me, eerily

like the cat’s cradles of my childhood. I shook my

head to rid myself of these distracting thoughts,

assuring myself that these were mere spider

webs, nothing more, but something about them

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was not right. Like a newborn taking its first

steps, I slowly hobbled over to the reflective

strings, wincing the entire way. I hesitantly

reached out to touch the cords. Slowly, slowly,

stretching my hand a centimeter at a time. I

closed my eyes. I took a deep breath. My fingers

brushed the cords. A flash of burning pain shot

up my arm. In that one flash, the string began to

vibrate with a deep hum. In the blackness before

me a similar noise vibrated, on and on, echoing

ominously of the walls, bouncing between them

like a ball of death, seemingly never-ending.

This, I realized, was no ordinary web. This

was a labyrinth.

So this was the Inquisition’s plan; to

ensnare me in the labyrinth. I wanted to tremble,

to run back to the wall, to something steady,

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constant, but I stood frozen still, deciding

whether to retreat or continue into the maze. I

wonder how many innocents had pondered this

decision before me. Pondered what they had to lose. I

wonder how long they stayed here before they plunged

into the maze. I glanced behind me at the skeleton.

And if they didn’t, what other fate met them? I was

going to die; I may as well choose how. Here, I

would die of starvation, if not thirst. Besides, the

Inquisition would just send another deadly

plague upon me. Stubbornness was useless. But

going into the labyrinth…….. would I really risk

that? To give in to the Inquisition’s plans was not

usually a good idea, but…. this time was it worth

it? I stretched every inch of my brain for some

vague answer. Minutes passed. Soon, a

diabolically devilish smile spread over my face. I

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let out a hysterical laugh as I plunged into the

dark unknown.

If they wanted to play their little mind

games, fine. Let’s play.

Black is like a coat, all-enveloping and

heavy. Black suffocates and confuses, depriving

one of sight. Black causes fear. Fear the mind-

killer. Yet it also provides hope, for when you

can’t see, you can somehow imagine if this tunnel

might lead you home. I stumbled over the cords

that prohibited my passage. Again and again they

whipped at my exposed arms and frayed the

remains of my skirt. But I trudged on, stepping

over thread after thread, my body weighing a

thousand pounds, using the wall to guide me. On

and on, for what seemed to be miles. Got to pay

attention now, I mentally chided myself, for the

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candles’ light is far behind me, and who knows what

lies ahead.

“I couldn’ have said it better myself,

sweetheart.”

I whirled around, and there he was,

slumped on the floor against the wall ; the ugliest,

drunkest, most disgusting man I have ever seen. I

could barely see him in the darkness, but he was

there all the same. His wool jacket was slimy, his

cap was ripped, his pants were seamless and

dirty, and since he was wearing no shirt under his

unbuttoned coat I could literally count his ribs.

His skin was covered in a layer of grime, is eyes

red and bloodshot, his breath stinking of beer and

decay so strongly that it made me gag. not only

that, but he had a British accent, of all things. I

better not look that disgusting, I thought. I must

have had a startled look on my face, for the man

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began to laugh a wheezy, coughing laugh,

spraying spit and more bad breath from his

yellow- toothed mouth.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, sweetheart. Ya

got any rum?”

Gathering up the remains of my torn skirt close to

me in disgust, I finally and firmly spat out, “No.”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, neither do I.

Finished me last bottle a while ago. But that may

jus’ve been a minute ago, ya’ know? It’s hard to

tell time here, ain’t it?”

He weakly kicked an empty bottle into the

forthcoming black. I began to fret. How many

others like him where there?

“It’s jus’ you n’ me, sweetheart. No one

else.” How did he know what I was thinking? Are

you a mind-reader? I thought, staring at him, but he

paid no attention. He instead coughed, then

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wheezed, “ I’ve been ‘ere for years, waitin’ for the

bloody Inquisition to find me. I’ve eaten mold of

‘em bloody walls jus’ to stay alive, when all I’ve

wanted is to go home. I’m not even s’posed to be

‘ere. I shou’ be in Heaven with me wife and kids,

shouldn’ I? “I silently stood there, unsure how to

respond.

“Well, shouldn’ I? Shouldn’ I, sweetheart?

Shouldn’ I be with me lovely Mary? And Janie

and Edward? Do they miss ‘eir daddy in Heaven?

Are they askin’ ‘eir mummy, ‘Where’s Daddy,

where’s Daddy?’ jus’ cuz they got burned on the

bloody stake an’ I didn’?! Cuz the bloody court

thinks I’m the instigator means ‘ey die an I stay

‘ere for years? Years?!? Jus’ cuz I get caught with

me family on a ship outta British territory an’ I

happen to be Jewish means that they torture us,

one bloody man an’ woman an’ child after

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another? Jus’ one plus one to them, huh? To them

black-robed judges and guards and priests and

nobles and the stinkin’ bloody queen? Jus’ cuz the

bloody Inquisition don’ like what I believe means

that I don’t get to see me family in Heaven, eh?

Well, does it, sweetheart? Huh?”

A moment of loud, sharp silence passed.

Finally I mumbled, “It isn’t fair, is it?”

At this, he let out a wheezing, knee-

slapping laugh.

“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart. Anyone who tells ya

otherwise is hiding something.”

He suddenly became very calm.

“But I’m gonna be fine now. Just dandy, even.

Cuz I’m goin’ to bloody Heaven now, sweetheart.

You jus’ watch, and mebbe you’ll learn

something.” He closed his eyes.

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And the dagger entered his bosom. The blade

went all the way through him, impossibly slow,

the once-silver blade sticking through his chest,

soaking the razed flesh with blood. It was then

smoothly retracted back through the wall’s thin

slit from which it came. The man made a sound

like a bird suddenly shot out of air, but on his

face was a smile of relief.

“Remember what I said!” he whispered, “You

might jus’ help a lotta people someday,

sweetheart. I’m countin on ya. An’ I’ll be

watching.”

He stiffened for one moment more, then went

slack and collapsed for the last time. He was gone

from this world.

I was frozen, stiff like the man in front of

me, cold as ice, but not from death. From fear.

Fear the mind-killer. I wanted to move, to run

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away, to wake up and have it all be just a dream,

but no. I wanted to beat on the walls of my mind

until I awoke from my slumber, but no. It was

real. The man was dead. I was standing there,

close to him, too close, frozen still, helpless,

knowing that it could’ve been me. Maybe it

should’ve been me. It still can be me. And that’s

what sent me running, bolting, dashing, hurtling

through string, sprinting from something that

couldn’t be outrun. Never. I stumbled, lost my

balance, and fell on my face.

Frantically, I got up and pressed against

the wall, pounding on it with my non-broken fist.

“Please, be it anyone, god or devil,

unknown creature of the dark, guard against the

door, man or woman, old or young, human or

something else, I am just a girl who lives and

breathes upon this earth and is just like all of you!

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I am just an ordinary woman with beliefs like you

and feelings like you, who sleeps and eats and

drinks like you, who has feelings like you, who

has skin and eyes, and tears and blood, redder

than red, just like you, just like all mortals on this

earth! Please! Please, I beg, you, let me free!” And

as my voice broke, I could go on no more.

In the silence I began to sob, rocking

back and forth, back and forth, clutching my

knees with my arms, back and forth, back and

forth, steady, steady, steady, until I was in a

hysterical calm. I stood up slowly, ready to

continue into the tunnel, and came face to face

with a great wooden door. A small dagger,

similar to the one that killed the laughing man,

hung where the knocker should be, and its

sudden appearance sent a tingle of alarm up my

nose. I stood perfectly still, then slowly, one step

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at a time, retreated back. Why was this door

here? Why this door… here? It couldn’t be what I

thought it was. It couldn’t. It couldn’t be….. the

exit? Could it? It was probably just another of the

Inquisition's tricks….. right? I closed my eyes and

shook my head. This was just too confusing. Was

it the exit or not? I opened my eyes and looked

up, and, pinned to the door, was my answer.

Written on a dirty, crispy paper was a single

word, written in all uppercase in a futile attempt

to emphasis its beautiful meaning: “FREE”. I

trembled with happiness. The paper was

probably lying, but at least now I could fool

myself into choosing it over the dagger. Right? I

considered my options, trying to use logic to

soothe my brain. If it was the exit, I could escape

and find my family. We could escape into a

different country, change our names, start over. If

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they weren’t already dead. If it was just another

trap, I may as well stay here. I could live like the

laughing man for a while. But, I could just take

that dagger and end my life right now. It would

be slow and painful, but still less tortuous than

another planned death. What to do, what to do?

Which choice would help my family? Which

choice would foil the Inquisition’s plans and

bring glory to the memories of all who died here

for their beliefs? Which choice would help me? I

stood there for a long time, not thinking, not

feeling, just being.

And I knew what I had to do.

Acknowledgements

To Kevin Brockmeier, my friend and writing

inspiration, and Edgar Allan Poe, the ultimate master

of suspense. I hope you guys approve.

117

Anonymous grade 6

Koolness in the Kool Klub

Deseray Grondin was having a very bad

day. For one, her blonde hair was a colossal mess.

Additionally, her Ma-ma was in Scranton, and

her Da-Da was running a fashion show in Vegas.

He owned a fashion magazine called, Mrs. Feisty.

It was very popular.

They had both been worried about her

multiple times during the day, and therefore,

Deseray was getting many phone calls from them.

Miss Darla-Jean had to take her out of Spanish

early so she could receive her tenth phone call

from her Da-Da. She hated when her parents

went on “business trips.”

There was only one pro to this. Deseray

could go to “FroYo 4 KoolKids” and eat as much

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FroYo as she wanted. FroYo 4 KoolKids was a kool

place to eat with the kool kids. She always went

there with her BFFFLFRZ (Best friend forever for

life for realzeez) 4 life, Little Pansy Petite. Little

Pansy was a kinda kool kid. Of course Deseray

wasn’t a kool kid. She was a goody-two-shoes

with annoying parents who were known to be

way over-protective. When she had to leave

Spanish Class for the phone call, Big Gabey and

his bully friends laughed. They laughed a lot.

They laughed so much that Ms. Darla-Jean had to

send them to Misses Plank, the principal. Misses

Plank let them off with a warning. She always let

them off with a warning.

After History with Mister Raimund,

Deseray and Little Pansy Petite left the building

and headed towards FroYo 4 KoolKids. It was on

fourth street, two blocks away from school.

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Deseray was only allowed to walk up to two

blocks away from school before coming home.

Her parents were very strict about that. They

even downloaded a tracking app on her iPhone

3G. As they were walking, they were approached

by Britt (a.k.a. Brittney.)

“Hey Girls, going to FY4KK?” Britt asked,

giggling. For some reason Britt always seemed to

be giggling.

“Tots, like my goats,” Little Pansy Petite

answered.

Britt giggled.

“Oh, and you, what’s your name, Deseray,

right? I love your mascara. It’s the newest

collection from MAC, right? Where did you get

it? The shipping is like four weeks on

Newmakeupdotcomdoubledotcom.com, right?”

120

“Oh I just got it at Sephora, where else?”

Deseray answered, trying to act kool.

“Did you shoplift it? Cos I heard it was like

50 bucks there.”

“No. I bought it,” Deseray answered.

“Of course you did. I shouldn’t have even

asked, little goodie-goodie.” Britt rolled her eyes

and sauntered off.

“Look at her,” Deseray gossiped to Pansy,

slightly offended.

“C’mon, I think she’s nice. She’s the koolest

kid in school. And she’s a full social status above

us. The fact that she’s actually talking to us is

gonna go down in the history books. Next thing

ya know, we’ll be reading about it in high school!

oh! And Britt is the head of Koolness in the Kool

Klub. I’ve been trying to join that club for years!”

Pansy said.

121

“Ya. If you make it to high school. I have

my doubts….” Deseray trailed off, realizing she

was being offensive. Pansy was a D- average

student...

“Hey.” Pansy said.

“Just sayin’.” Deseray said under her

breath.

Just then they passed by the local college.

The College for Dumb Kids. That was literally

what it was called.

Deseray and Pansy were approached by a

group of goths. “Oh no, the goths are coming!”

Pansy screeched and ran off onto Apple Lane.

It was too late for Deseray to run. The

goths would see her, so she dashed under a dying

mulberry bush.

“OMG! Do you think Derek is cheating on

me with Dronning Peterson? I saw him hugging

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her,” Deseray overheard Chelsea say through her

bush.

“C’mon Chelsea, You don’t really have the

right to get mad at him. At least he doesn’t know

about your affairs. And, Derek only hugged

Dronning. C’mon dramatic fuchsia haired

groosling,” Mulan the goth retorted.

“Well Dronning is in the Popular Dumb-

Blonde group. You could re-name her sorority

“The Plastics”, and NO ONE would notice. I

mean Regina George from Mean Girls is basically

based on her! Dronning’s like...The CORE

opposite of what we stand for…..” Chelsea trailed

off realizing how utterly stupid she sounded.

“Anyway--” Dylan started to butt in.

“Wait one second.” Mulan cut Dylan off,

and spun around to the mulberry bush, “I spy

with my little eye….” she leaned closer and closer

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to the bush, “something that looks a lot like my

sister!” she pulled Deseray out from under the

mulberry bush with a scowl on her face

“Yo, ‘sup. You spyin’ on me?” Mulan said

to Deseray, her sister.

“No,” Deseray squeaked.

“Good, cause if you were I would cut you

open and rip your organs out one by one.” Mulan

was the meanest goth. She was also the leader of

the lot. She happened to be Deseray’s big sister.

She wore black leather jackets, and tall high-

heeled booties. She had a black mullet with a

bleached pink streak by her forehead. She liked to

scare little kids, especially Deseray and her

friends. She had a big, fat purple nose ring that

her boyfriend Dylan gave to her last year.

Dylan stood behind her, with his best

friends, Angie and Drex. Dylan had a scruffy

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chin, and wore black eyeliner, under the eyes.

Drex was an emo all the way, and was Angie’s

boyfriend. Angie had platinum blonde hair, but

was thinking about dying it fuschia. Angie liked to

wear crop-tops. She liked to hear pink and black

striped ones.

Then there was also Chelsea and her

boyfriend Derek. Chelsea hated Angie cuz she

herself had fuschia hair, and she didn’t want

anyone copying her. Especially Angie… In

Chelsea’s opinion, Angie was not a goth. If

Chelsea was the head of the goth group, she

would kick Angie out with a home-run. Angie

just happened to be second cousins once removed

with Mulan. That’s why she was part of the club.

Chelsea’s eyes were always covered in

layers of black eyeliner with a touch of blue.

Multiple piercings outlined her ears. She was the

125

definition of a popular goth. Even the kool kids at

“The College for Dumb Kids” thought Chelsea

was kinda awesome. All the goth girls who didn’t

get a membership to the exclusive hit goth klub

wanted to be like her, and all the goth guys loved

her. But her heart belonged to Derek...and Dregg,

Zekkhei, Austin and Barkley. (Derek didn’t know

about these other boys.)

“Derek, look at that shrimp,” Chelsea

looked down at 9-year-old Deseray and squinted,

realizing that her thoughts about Derek were

wrong. She had bigger things to worry about.

Ruining these kids lives.

“Yeah, babe, she’s so ugly.” Derek replied

in a deep voice.

“Shut UP!” Deseray screeched back,

unexpectedly. “Don’t talk to me like that! Mulan,

stop your stupid friends! I hate you! You never

126

support me...And your friends. They’re ugly and

STUPID! What’s all that black make-up for

anyway! Makes you guys look like a few

witches!”

“Don’t talk to my friends like that, Dez.

You’re just a little shrimp waiting to be fried up,”

Mulan shouted. She picked Deseray up by the

armpits.

Deseray screamed. “PUT ME DOWN!

YOU WITCH!”

Mulan passed Deseray to Dylan who flung

her over his shoulder. Deseray was suspended

upside down. The blood from inside her body

was dropping from her feet to her face, which

was turning red.

Deseray began to cry. Her new Sephora

mascara smeared all over her face. But these

goths, they didn’t care. They all laughed. Luckily,

127

they were making a loud enough racket for

people to start to notice.

Professor Shingle, art history professor at

The College for Dumb Kids, came out yelling at

Mulan and Dylan. “MULAN! DYLAN! This is the

last time I will catch you displaying inappropriate

behavior in school grounds! You are both

expelled, I’ve warned you many times about the

consequences from your wretched shenanigans.

You may not be on campus at all. This includes

your dormitory with your goth friends. THIS IS

MY FINAL DECISION!” With that, Professor

Shingle trotted back into her classroom.

Mulan and Dylan stared at each other in

shocked silence. They’d been the class

troublemakers since they met in kindergarten, but

they never thought their shenanigans would ever

128

amount to anything. They never thought they’d

be expelled.

“Whatevs.” Mulan said, showing none of

the emotion whirling through her insides. “Bye

guys, I assume you’ll be moving out of our

dormitory and sharing an apartment with me and

Dylan. Not really an apartment, more of a

basement. My basement. We’ll live in the

basement of my house. It’s only right. I mean, we

are friends. We can call it the Goth Klub. I’ll Goth

Text you the address. See ya there.”

“It’s fine Mulie-Mulan. We know where

your house is..” Chelsea said. “Guess the only

thing left to is uh..quit collage! Lez go! I’ve been

waiting to do this! PROFESSOR SHINGLE!”

Chelsea ran to tell Miss Shingle her final decision.

The goth team waddled off in their high heels

129

behind her. The only one left was Mulan. She

approached her little sister.

“It was only a matter of time….” Deseray

murmured.

“Shut UP!” Mulan said.

“Can’t torture me in school grounds!

You’ll get into trouble.”

“I know.” Mulan whispered. “I’ll get you

at home stinker!”

Mulan met up with her kool goth friends.

They sauntered back to their new apartment, or

Mulan Grondin’s parents’ basement. They were

lucky that Mr. and Mrs. Grondin were not home.

They would have freaked if a bunch of smelly

goths barged into their home.

Deseray was different story. She had

planned to tell her mother about Mulan and her

friends secretly living in the basement when she

130

got home from Scranton. But Mulan pounded her

into the wall and said, “If you tell Mom, I’ll

smash your face into a burning fire place again!

Like when you were five!

Deseray had gotten a pretty bad burn from

that. That’s why she ended up getting side bangs.

“I’m home!” Deseray’s mother gasped. She

dropped her various bags full of needless stuff.

She waddled down the hall in her new Prada

heels. Her French 20s style throw-up colored

dress swayed with her every movement.

“DESERAY!” She exclaimed, “how’s my darlin’

babe! You are delectable!” Deseray ran forth

towards her chubby mother. Deseray’s mom,

Lishai Grondin was a plump lady with blonde

hair. Lishai used “at home dyes” to save money.

This just ended up making her hair look green

instead of “golden cocka-doodle”.

131

Lishai Grondin was made up with a

variety of queer colors of eyeliner and mascara.

Of course, her rouge was pink, but her eyes were

surrounded with turquoise.

“Mommy!” Deseray exclaimed. “Mulan

got kicked out of college, so…so..she’s living in

our ba-.”

Unluckily for Deseray, Mulan was hiding

in the doorway right behind her.

“You’ve made a MISTAKE shrimpy!”

Mulan shouted as she pounced on Deseray. “You

RAT! Mom! Light a FIRE!”

You see, Lishai was intimidated of Mulan,

so she played obedient. (As you can imagine, the

Grondins were not the best parents.) Mulan is

living proof of that…

Lishai grabbed a match and quickly lit it.

132

“Mommy!” Deseray exclaimed, “Don’t do

it! Mulan’s gonna stick my head in the fireplace!”

“Don’t you think I know that! Sweetie I’m

really sorry but I-”

“So you wanna see me get burned again?!”

“No I-”

“What!?”

“It’s just that I will get bur-”

“So, you aren’t gonna stand up to Mulan,

Ma-Ma?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Ok. Hear me out this time.”

“Fine.” Deseray’s lips were pursed, and

her arms were folded. “Explain, Ma-Ma.” Lishai

was bent over the fireplace, preparing wood to be

set ablaze. Her 20’s French cap fell off as she

pushed it off her head of slightly green hair.

133

Lishai sat down on the orange couch next to the

fireplace, kicking off her heels. Her toes were

swollen.

“I don’t want your sister to push me in the

fire….That sounds selfish...Doesn’t it?”

“Yup.I don’t like you, Ma-Ma. I’m going

over to Pansy’s before Mulan gets me.” Mulan

was in the kitchen, making a caramel frappuccino

delight, (Her specialty).

“Okay sweetsies-peepees.”

“Mom. I’m nine. Never call me that EVER

again.” With that, Deseray stomped off across the

street to Pansy’s.

When she made it to the sweet sanctuary

of the Petite house, Deseray broke through the

door without so much as a knock on the door to

tell them she was there.

134

“Pansy!!!! I’m a-here!” She ran up the pink

carpeted staircase up to Pansy’s room. She jiggled

her hands on the fool’s gold doorknob and yelled,

“Pansy, ya little brat! Let me in this instant!

I thought we were BFFL FRZs! I will hate you

until you’re 61!”

“Geeez! I thought we were besties too! I

was just copying and pasting things from

Wikipedia onto my English paper. You know I

can’t do it myself, it’s just too hard. I don’t

understand why some of the letters are big, when

others are like, small. Sorry for not lettin’ you in. I

thought you were Mama for a sec. Ya know she’d

kill me if she caught me cheating”

“Wow. You’re so dumb that can’t even

write a paper about Capital Letters?” Deseray

realized she was being offensive again. “Sorry for

135

being offensive, I mean you did leave me with the

goths today. Mulan almost burned my face off.”

“Again?” Pansy replied. “Whatevs. Come

in. Gossip Girl?”

“Tots like my goats!!! I’m like soo loving

the Chuck/Blair stuff this season”

“Actually, wait…” Pansy’s eyes scanned

her little pink room, “I’m out of mascara and eye

shadow. I need more makeup. We’re going

shoplifting.”

Deseray did not like that idea, she was a

goody two shoes and never went shoplifting.

“Oh no…” she retorted to little Pansy,

“You know that I have promised to my folks that

I’d never steal. Mama made me promise after the

first time the police arrested you shoplifting at

Duane Reade.”

136

“Hey! I wasn’t ever arrested! You are a liar,

” Pansy said with a smirk.

“Ya, well the cops took you to the slammer

and called your parents six times, so I think it’s

close enough!”

Pansy looked furious as she yelled to

Deseray, “No, I’m not a criminal! And I don’t

even know what a slammer is! Trust me Dezzie.

UGH! C’mon let’s just go to Sephora. I want the

new MAC lipsticks and their new eyeliners! I

heard they had spring sunflower scented

concealer too!”

“Awesome…” Deseray trailed off, she

hadn’t a clue what spring sunflower scented

concealer was, but she played along. “ Are you

sure we shouldn’t just buy that...thing? My Da-Da

is super rich, I’ll pay.”

“Fun sucker.” Pansy said with a grimace.

137

“I’m just saying, what if we..ya know...get

caught?”

“We won’t. Lez GO!”

“Shouldn’t we inform your mom we’re

leav-”

“NOOO!” And with that, Pansy Petite

dragged Deseray Grondin down the pink

carpeted stairs, and out the salmon polka dotted

door.

Pansy dragged Deseray through the street

and to the big-box Sephora. The local high school

had just let out, so it was filled with a gaggle of

teens. They all started when they say the little

plankton coming in (That would be Deseray and

Pansy.)

Pansy led Deseray into the lipstick isle, and

shoved the whole bucket of $50 MAC lipsticks of

138

all colors into her purple snake-skin hand-bag

(Which was also stolen from American Apparel.)

She ran down the aisle to the mascaras and

eye shadows. She dragged her arm down the

shelf display, pushing everything into her hand-

bag. She then ran over to the eye pencils and dug

her hand into the bowl. Watching Pansy, Deseray

realized why she was caught so many times. She

wasn’t exactly that subtle.

Deseray wasn’t the only one who had

noticed. A crowd of teens had formed around

Pansy, watching her steal bottle after bottle of

foundation and concealer. Deseray realized she

had to make an excuse for her friend, or she’d

surely be caught.

“It’s okay… her Da-da’s real rich,” Deseray

lied, “and she doesn’t like using shopping bags,

139

they have too much germs. She just uses her

hand-bag.”

It was clear no one believed her, but for a

while no one ratted out their fellow Sephora-

lover. That is, until a goth who really wanted to

befriend Mulan noticed Deseray. Ratting out

Mulan’s little sister was the perfect key to

Mulan’s friendship. So what if a few nine-year-

olds got arrested in the process?

Brazy Brandin, snuck out of the crowd to

the unobservant Sephora cop, Pete Stanton. As

soon as he heard of a couple of shoplifters, he ran

as fast as his pudgy legs could carry him, over to

where Pansy was attacking the nail polish.

“Hey there girls, there’s no shopliftin’

allowed in my store. Hey…. I recognize you, your

Pansy Petite, right? Yeah, you got quite the

history. Its time for Juvy, girl.” The guard said.

140

And that was when Pansy was taken away

from Deseray for three months.

2 Months Later

Dear Dez,

Hey, It’s Pansy Petite. I’m in Juvy. It

stinks. I hate it. The Food is so bad. Mrs. Petunia

is my cabin supervisor. She’s So mean. gosh! I

DON’T LIKE HER!!! Juvy’s kinda okay, if you get

past the fact we’re in a maximum security prison.

We’re not even allowed to have pencils, I think

they’re afraid we’ll stab each other with them. We

have to write with special felt tip markers, and we

only get marker privileges for ten minutes a day

besides school. I made a friend. She’s 12, the

second youngest here. I’m the youngest. She got

sent here for shoplifting too. Except she stole

money.. Everyone else did real bad things to get

here, not just shoplifting. I guess I did get caught

141

6 times... I’m sorry for getting you in so much

trouble. I bet yer mom killed u. Ya. Sephora Is

pretty heavily guarded. I din know, key? If u

never forgive me, that’s fine. I won’t blame u. But

remember, I’m still yer BFF FRZ 4 life. I’ll be Back

in a month. Is my Mom sad? how are you? How

is the weather? I love You BFFLS.

Love, your BFFFLFRZ 4 Life,

Pansy Petite

Deseray stared at the crumpled piece of

paper in her fist. Pansy was gone. No one

wanted to hang out with Deseray, cause everyone

knew that she was now “a bad influence”. Little

goodie two shoes went shoplifting and ratted her

BFFL out to the Sephora guard, Pete Stanton. Of

course that wasn’t true, but hey, third graders can

be mean gossips. Deseray dropped four full social

statuses, and if you think she was unkool before…

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“DEZ DEZ!” A bespectacled, pimpled

fourth grader stuck her head into the library

where Deseray was sitting, “Lez go! I want some

Fro Yo! But we can’t go to Fro Yo 4 Kool Kids, you

know we ain’t welcome there. We aren’t kool. Britt

was gonna let you in the klub you know. But

then… You know. ”

“Yeah. I do. Hey do you wanna be my new

BFFL? I know we’re like friends, but BFFLs are

like a whole new level. Maybe soon we can

BFFFLFRZs We are in different grades and all

but…”

“Sounds GREAT!!! I’ve never had a BFFL

before, not even back at Acotta Elementary!”

Deseray had one friend, a new fourth

grader named Dinah. They were both known as

unkool in their grades, so when they found each

other in the library, they became Best Friends For

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Life. Dinah was the only one who talked to

Deseray. Dinah had poured a stinky, disgusting

Yummlies Yogurt Drink that was one month

expired on the popular girl in fourth grade,

Mariana, during lunch on her first day at school.

Deseray “ratted out a kool girl”, so Des and Din

clicked. They were “like peas and carrots”, which

was what Dinah told Deseray was from some

really old movie that she really liked. Dinah liked

old movies, Deseray did not. Dinah was weird.

Deseray and Dinah left their school. They

both loved fro yo, but they of course couldn’t go

to FY4KK. No matter how kool Deseray wanted to

be, Britt would kick them out in 5 seconds flat.

So they headed east three blocks to where

the new kool kids went. Not the Koolness in the

Kool Klub. They were the outcasts, the ones

ousted by the popular kids in their grades. There

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was Deseray and Dinah, two fifth graders, a first

grader who never talked, and 9 second graders.

(There was a real bullying problem going on in

the second grade).

When they entered the froyo shop, they

found Britt and her kool BFFL Sabrina. Sabrina

was crying.

"What's going on?" Deseray put on her best

kool accent.

Britt stood up. "Nothing you should be

worried about. Well, Libby and Emma and Kathy

all got salmonella, and Libby thinks it's from

FY4KK, and so does Kendall and Maddie, but

they didn't get salmonella. Emma thinks it's from

the Chinese restaurant she and Kathy went to last

week that Libby lives next to, and Kathy thinks it's

from when we all ate cookie dough last week.

Anyway, I don't think it's from FY4KK. So,

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Maddie and Kendall and I had a big fight, and

they said they're never going to FY4KK again.

They said that they hated it and that stretched my

last nerve. So I left FY4KK. I mean, they're not

being fair, FY4KK our place. To be in Koolness in

the Kool Klub you need to be true to FY4KK Wait,

was I actually just talking to you?"

Sabrina looked up through her tears,

"Britt's ending Koolness in the Kool Klub." She

started to wail.

"If my trusted BFFFLFRZs aren't true to

our hangout place, then I don't know what to do.

It's over. They need to know that actions have

consequences. Sure, I could just kick them out, but

what would they learn? And I mean,we made a

pact. Without one of us, Koolness in the Kool

Klub will never exist again," Britt announced.

146

Deserey had no reaction. All she could

think of was what Pansy would say. Gosh, Pansy

would be sooo mad. All those years she spent

aching to be in Koolness in the Kool Klub, And it

was all gone in a second…

“C’mon, New Kool Kids, lez go…” Pansy

had an idea. She knew it her time to be at the top

of the social food chain. “We need to have our

first New Kool Kids meeting.”

Dinah looked at her with question in her

eyes.

“Go with it,” Deseray whispered to Dinah,

“it’s a good idea.”

“Okayyy….” Dinah whispered back.

“So Britt,” Deseray announced, “you can

stay here. The New Kool Kids, are going to FY4KK,

cause if it ain’t yours, it’s fair game….”

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“Go! Just- just leave me alone!” Britt yelled

with a string of expletives I am not allowed to

print after it.

“Great,” Deseray retorted. She left, with

her string of unkool friends right behind her.

And with that was the founding of the New

Kool Kids. Britt and her slimy minions were

punished for all they did wrong, and Koolness in

the Kool Klub withered away into only a distant

memory.

The End

148

Lily Greenberg

grade 6 The Nobody Man

This is the tale of The Nobody Man and his

tale of woe.

Listen and deduct, but don’t interrupt, and

let’s see how much you know.

The Nobody Man was never born.

Sure he existed, but he never lived.

He didn’t know who his not-mother nor his

not-father were.

And never did.

The Nobody Man, since he was never born,

never wanted to die.

He wanted to live forever, to be immortal,

like an all-powerful god.

He wanted to be remembered forever.

But the Somebody Man got in his way.

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The Somebody man was, well… somebody.

Everyone wanted to be him, everyone

compared everyone else to him.

Everyone knew who he was, everyone loved

who he was, everyone would remember who he

was.

And that drove The Nobody Man a bit too

far.

He had always been a bit too far on that

diving board of craziness, was never quite right.

But this was just a bit too far.

He began to have trouble sleeping at night,

for nightmares of Death always followed sleep.

He began to have splitting migraines that

pressed into his head like a not-existent crown

that was the perfect size for someone else.

He tore out his hair and broke chairs in his

fiery rage.

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He began to have flares of jealousy that

burned like coals, a jealousy that wrapped its

coils around his throat, his mind, his heart.

He swore by his not-mother’s soul that he

would have revenge!

So The Nobody Man decided to crush The

Somebody Man at his own game, his greatest

skill:

Exploring.

That would show that pompous, bloated pig!

So the next day, The Nobody Man went to the

Great Palace and begged the king of his land to

allow him to discover and plunder the New

World in the king’s name.

Now, the king was a greedy man, always

wanting more gold, more land, and more power.

The king was also clever, much more clever

than The Nobody Man, and the king decided that

151

this fool would give him gold, land, and power.

And he was just so desperate, so gullible, and so

expendable. The king chuckled and licked his

lips. It was the perfect opportunity!

The offer, off course, was accepted.

The Nobody Man bought a ship, a crew, and

some provisions, then headed out to search out

his destiny: immortality!

He had heard from one of his neighbor’s

slaves that there was a majestic fountain that

would restore spring to the not-step and light to

the not-eyes without erasing his heightened not-

mind with a single sip.

Fons Juventutis- The Fountain of Youth.

This alluring idea captivated his thoughts for

many a night, until, some weeks later, the man in

the crows nest shouted “Land ho! Land ho!”

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The crew kissed the sand under their feet, the

first mate ordered all the rum to be drunk, but

The Nobody Man just stared. For he was sure,

sure with all his nonexistent self, that he had

found the island which held his ticket to eternal

life. This island of flowers would make him

beyond death. Florida would save his not-soul!

The Nobody Man was on the island for about

a day before he took another push closer to the

end of the diving board.

It was because of two things.

The first thing was that the king was getting

impatient for discovery. He had written a letter

warning The Nobody Man that if he did not find

something soon, he may have to discharge him

and find someone who could.

The second thing was that the Calusa were

really getting on his nerves.

153

The Calusa were the natives of Florida, and

they obviously were not happy about The

Nobody Man’s claiming of their home.

Most of the time this would not be a problem,

except that the Calusa could fight. Really well,

actually. They would not back down. And this

was giving The Nobody Man a migraine.

So on that fateful day, The Nobody Man

decided to take a walk.

Not a big deal. Just a walk, right? You will

see.

The Nobody Man didn’t follow a path. He

just walked wherever his not-feet took him,

stepping over branches and leaping over logs,

dodging thorns and poison ivy, until at last he

slowed.

He saw in front of him a little clear pond, no

more than a puddle really.

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But...could it be? No, it couldn’t.

Could it?

He stepped closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

His hand disrupted the calm surface.

The water spilled over his palms.

His breath made it warmer than normal.

It tasted like mud.

And The Nobody Man took a dive into the

deep end of his old, crazy mind.

He began to laugh hysterically. Because he’d

found it. Finally, he’d found it!

He flipped his head back, kneeled onto his

not-knees, raised his dripping arms to the

heavens, and cried with all the not-ness in his not-

self, “What can go wrong now?”

155

Then the arrow wedged itself into his

stomach.

The tip of the arrow shot out of his chest,

soaked with blood and gore.

The shaft was completely embedded into his

body.

The nocking point was stuck in his back.

The Calusa who shot him just walked away.

That was the end of The Nobody Man and his

tale of woe.

He tempted fate by his arrogant gait, and so

he just had to go.

On his old dark gray tombstone is

engraved, “Here lies the brave lion”

But is one very brave if he devotes himself to

not-dying?

156

Elliot Flagg

grade 7 Stranded

My name is Zachary Peck, and I sail for a

living.

I'm here down in the Caribbean on my

boat sailing from island to island because my life

was ruined after my wife left me. I'm 35 years old,

divorced and all alone to sail the open waters for

the rest of my life.

Being down here really isn’t all that bad.

Life is peaceful and uneventful, which is just the

way I like it. The sun is shining every day, and I

haven't a care in the world! No taxes and no work

to hold me up and keep my life boring and

stressful. Every day is a new adventure.

I got up and made pancakes this morning,

god I love a good pancake. The sails are in good

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condition, no tears, no replacements needing to

be made. The wind is fresh, which means I’ll be

able to relax the whole way to Anguilla.

I'm moving at a steady 8 knots which

means I’ll get there at around lunch time. I

wonder what I’ll do there, the beach is always a

good option. Maybe go swimming and drink pina

coladas, ah, that’s the life.

The wind picked up to about 13 knots so I

had to get on deck and steer. The trip went really

fast, instead of an anticipated 4 hours it ended up

being 2. I decided to get in my dinghy and row to

shore and see what’s there for me.

***

I got a pina colada in my hand and my toes

in the crisp, warm sand, nothing beats this.

Maybe a nap’s in order.

***

158

After my nap, I got up, got back in the

dinghy, and rowed back to the boat. It is bedtime

so I guess I’ll just fall asleep.

***

Rumble! Rumble!

What was that! No time for journaling any

more. I better check it out. It's probably coming

from the engine room. Oh! Its dirty in here, god I

should clean this thing out.

Rumble! Rumble! Sway...Sway...

Whoa! The boat is tipping, I better get on

deck. I opened the hatch to the deck, and I looked

around.

I was in the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t

see land anywhere. But I was just in Anguilla,

how did that happen?

I looked up and saw that the sky was dark

gray. I was in the middle of a HURRICANE! The

159

boat must have drifted away from shore while I

was sleeping. I quickly grabbed my life vest, and

ran to the wheel. Suddenly the wind picked up

and the boat turned, thrashing back and forth.

Then the worst possible thing happened.

CRACK!

I looked just in time to see the mast start to

fall. I jumped out of the way, as it split the boat in

two. Then it all went black.

***

I woke up disoriented with the sun shining

as brightly like a flashlight right in my eyes. It

took a second for them to adjust, and when they

did I was horrified. I saw pieces of my boat

floating around me as I laid on a plank of wood

somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.

I had to do something or I would certainly

die.

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I stood up and fell into the water.

Obviously the plank wasn’t stable, but the water

was frigid. I quickly dragged my numb body

back onto that piece of scrap wood as fast as I

could.

I looked up and saw what could seem

helpful, I saw the dinghy floating about fifty feet

away from where I was.

I frantically paddled towards it with all my

might. My fingers ached from the cold water. As I

grew nearer, I gained hope. I grabbed hold, and

pulled myself on. It was much sturdier than I

expected it to be.

While I was in the boat I kept thinking to

myself how I was going to move. I mean, there

were no paddles, just broken pieces of wood and

nails. Then it came to me. I grabbed the nails and

wood, took off my shirt, and began to work.

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I nailed a 4x1 to the bottom of the boat,

then another one across it, like a cross. Then I

nailed my shirt to it, and boom, I had a sail.

Then I made a rudder and nailed it to the

back, and bang, I had a boat!

***

I'm feeling very optimistic. I mean, I never

thought that any of this could be possible, and in

this situation, I think I'm doing pretty well.

Then I heard it, Thud…Thud…

It was coming from the bottom of the boat.

I looked down to see the outlines of what I

thought were large fish. Wait, large fish with big

teeth? Large fish with dorsal fins?

‘Crap, sharks!’

They were scratching at the bottom of the

boat, and rocking it back and forth. The feeling

seemed oddly familiar.

162

The boat flipped and I fell once again into

the water. I learned somewhere that sharks are

attracted to blood and rapid movements. So I

kept perfectly still and thought happy thoughts,

so that I wouldn’t freak out.

There was silence. So I pulled myself back

on the boat. All seemed well. I looked down to

see a shadow, but it wasn’t mine. I looked up as

the jumping shark came crashing down on my

boat.

***

My eyes felt crusty, and my body numb. I

was on a piece of my broken makeshift boat. (like

that didn’t seem familiar.) To my excitement I

heard a horn in the distance. Then strong lights

tearing through the darkness. I saw a boat, and on

it my wife? She was calling my name. Then

suddenly there was a commotion on their boat,

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and I shut my eyes just as two hands scooped me

up.

***

There were bright white lights, then tiles,

then people crowding around me, and machines.

Where was I?

“Honey, you’re in the hospital,” a familiar

voice said.

“Beth?” I said.

“Yes It's me!” She replied, “guys can you

give us some time.” The people in the room left.

“How long have I been out?” I asked.

“Two days.”

“How did you find me.”

“The tracking device on your boat.”

“But why, why would you be looking for

me?”

164

“Because, because, because I love you

Zach. I can’t hold it in any longer.”

“It was your idea to divorce me. Why

would you think I would want to get back

together.”

“Oh Zach, I thought you would say that.

Well, your insurance covered everything. Your

new boat is in the harbor if you really must go.”

“I’m sorry Beth, I’m leaving.”

***

The harbor was calm this morning. The

soft breeze against your face, and the pungent

aroma of the salt drifting from the water through

the air. This was home.

I walked down to the docks where she

was. This new boat almost looked exactly like the

old one. I stepped on board, and raised the sails.

165

Then I sailed into the vast ocean... One last

time.

The End

166

Derrick Foskett grade 7

My Grandfather’s Story

“Pop, what was it like fighting in World

War II?” I asked my grandfather.

“Well…. It was tough. A lot happened. I’ll

start from the beginning. We started training in

Nebraska and then moved to New Mexico. We

flew to South America, and then on to North

Africa, where we were based as we conducted

missions over Italy. My plane was named “Vini

Vidi Vici” - Latin for I came, I saw, I conquered. I

was a bombardier on a B-24 Liberator, and was

shot down over Italy, during our 49th mission -

one more and I would have been going home to

the States. It was over Orbetello, in May 1944, on

the west coast of Italy. I was a 2nd Lieutenant at

the time and was part of the 449th bomber group.

167

We went to bomb a causeway that Germans used

to transport supplies. We thought it would be

easy, but little did we know, that Orbetello was a

school for German antiaircraft gunners. The flak

was a deadly, accurate weapon. The plane was hit

it in one of its wings. There were five of us that

got out, myself and the replacement navigator

included.”

“We got to the ground and the navigator

and two gunners made an attempt to escape. The

three of them were killed by Germans with

machine guns. The Germans made myself and the

other gunner carry their dead bodies to the

German headquarters. After, they put me on a

train and brought me to a prison camp in Sagan,

Germany. It was, Stalag Luft III. It was 100 miles

southeast of Berlin, the German capital, and 60

miles away from the Poland-Germany border.”

168

“There were 10,000 or so of us prisoners in

Stalag Luft III. Many of us were US Army Air

Force flyers. There was five compounds making

up the camp. Each compound had to rely on the

rations of the local German towns. The rations

were sour bread, sausages (sometimes with

fingernails in them), potatoes that had mold,

barley or pea soup, and cheese that almost made

me vomit.”

“It was around Christmas when, as the

Allied Forces came into Germany, the Germans

got nervous and made us leave the camp. They

were afraid that the Americans would free us and

we’d be able to fight again against the Germans.

We marched south, as a group, through

Germany. We went from Stalag Luft III to Stalag

VIIA, just outside of Munich. We marched about

700 miles total. I got frostbite while I was

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marching those 700 miles. Myself and other

soldiers went back north through Germany

taking the same route because the Russians were

closing in and they didn’t want us being freed by

them either. Then when we got back near Stalag

Luft III, we went to Stalag IIIA, a prison camp in

Luckenwalde, Germany, about 50 miles or so

away from Berlin. From there we marched further

north, through Halberstadt and past Hanover and

Bremen, to Marlog Nord, a prison camp

southwest of Hamburg.”

“In the Spring of 1945, as General George

Patton’s Third Army swept through Germany,

the Germans retreated and left us in the camp.

When the US soldiers reached us it was a feeling I

can never forget, but not really explain either. I

had lost 45 pounds from my normal weight and

had some wounds and ailments from the harsh

170

treatment. While I was in service, but before POW

Camp, my oldest son, your Uncle Charlie was

born. I finally got to see him when he was already

almost 2 years old. We returned to the US in late

Spring and after furlough of a few weeks, went

back to training - the Air Force needed

bombardiers for the battles in the Pacific theatre. I

was almost shipped out, but the War ended that

August.

Serving my country was one of the scariest

times in my life, but we all had a duty to perform

and there was only one thing to do - get on with

it.”

“Wow! Pop, you did all that? I’m so happy

you are my grandfather!” I said, “You’re the best,

pop!”

171

Theo Usher grade 7

Death on the Dartboard

I had gone some ten or twelve steps in this

manner when the torn hem of my robe caused me

to stumble till I fell violently, face forward. I was

in a curious position. My head was over a hole, it

seemed, while my body was on the ground. I

reached out into the clammy cold and grabbed for

the sides of the hole around me. It seemed to be

some size, for I could not even reach halfway

around it.

Then, suddenly, there was a flash of light.

It lit up the whole room. I now could see the hole.

It was about ten feet across, I figured. When I

looked into it I couldn’t see the bottom because it

was so deep. Suspended above the pit was a

queer little contraption. It had a large bucket for a

172

body, with water pouring in to it from above. It

was then draining out the bottom, while turning a

rotating paddle. The paddle appeared to be

connected to, and turning a clock face, which had,

instead of hands, sharp knives. Then I looked

around the room. It was circular, about 100 feet

across, with walls going up at least fifty feet. In

rings extending from the hole in alternating

colors of black and grey, I realized that, from

above, it must look like a target. On the ceiling,

there was a giant clock. It was huge, spanning the

whole ceiling, the hands almost touching the

walls. It made a loud tick tock sound. It was

turning, and as I watched, the second hand went

whizzing along, over my head. In what seemed to

be no time at all, a minute had passed.

I stepped back from the hole and, not

knowing what else to do, walked around my

173

prison. I counted the number of circles there were

(18) and the number of steps it took to walk

around my prison.

Soon after I sat down. I wondered, was the

Inquisition going to leave me here, starve me

until I died?

I licked my lips hungrily at the thought of

food. I had no idea how I was going to die. I had

heard the sentence of death but all the judges had

said of how I was going to die was “Take him to

the killing room.” I thought farther back,

wondering if there was any way I could have

escaped the Inquisition. I decided there was none.

My musing was interrupted by the clock. Tick

tock, tick tock. I looked up; it looked like two and

a half hours had passed since I had looked at it.

But yet how could that be, since I felt I had been

thinking for only half an hour. I realized that the

174

Inquisitors were probably messing with me,

trying to destroy my sense of time.

Suddenly, I heard a soft “clunk” from behind

me. A bag with a parachute was lying on the

floor. Inside was a baguette, and a container full

of water. I ate the baguette in a moment, tearing

into it with my teeth. Ahhhhh, nothing had ever

tasted so good. I drank the water next, pouring it

from the container into my mouth. I had not

realized that I was parched until that moment.

Then I started to feel dizzy. I fell down, my

eyesight fading, as these words reached my mind:

the water’s been drugged! Then I blacked out.

Tick tock, tick tock. The sound woke me. I

was lying on the floor, and had no idea what I

was doing until the memory of the drugged food

returned to me. I rolled over and yelped. I had

175

been lying right next to the pit. When I rolled, I

had stuck my legs out over the edge of the abyss.

Carefully getting up, I looked around to see if

anything had changed. It seemed unlikely, as

everything looked the same. Suddenly I heard a

“thunk” from behind me. Experiencing once

again that sudden feeling of hunger, I turned

around quickly and, to my horror, found myself

face to face with a giant dart. It seemed to be

about 6 feet tall, with a razor sharp point

embedded in the ground. It had missed me by

mere inches. My mouth went dry as I thought

about my earlier observations. I recalled that I

had thought that, from above, the floor must look

exactly like a dartboard.

For it was. A giant board with inquisitors

dropping giant darts on me. I looked up, and

saw, in the gloom, little circles all over the ceiling.

176

Those must be the holes that, when uncovered,

the darts were dropped from. No I decided. I will

not stand by and let myself get impaled by one of

these horrors, for I had no doubt of the lingering

death that would await me. And what if the dart

hit me in the leg or the arm while I was asleep.

Another long death awaited me there, too.

I would take my life, I decided, because if I

was going to die anyway and a quick death were

preferable to a long lingering one. I would jump

into the pit. So I stood on the edge of the pit, took

a deep breath, and jumped.

I felt a flaring pain in my right leg. I seemed

to have twisted it in my fall. Wait, how was I still

alive? I looked around me. I was in the pit, but

only about 7 feet down. A rough ladder I had not

noticed in my observations seemed to be carved

into the rock. I was being drenched by the water

177

flowing from the smaller clock. Then I looked

down. And felt my heartbeat stop. For I was, it

seemed floating over the pit, on a hard surface.

Closer observations revealed it was glass. I

wondered why it was there. And then the reason

struck me.

I would be denied the quick death of the pit,

denied by the foul inquisitors, those people from

hell. And left to face the darts. Soon my resolve

came back, and I decided that to stay down in the

hole would result in my death even more

certainly than if I was outside of it. So I climbed

up the ladder and out into the open room. On the

edge of the pit, there was a loaf of bread next to

the pit. I ate it in a flash, realizing once again, that

I was starving. Soon however, I became aware of

a change. The clock on the far up ceiling was not

far up anymore. It seemed to me to be no farther

178

off the floor than 20 feet. It was descending on

me, although in a very slow fashion. It would

take quite some time to come down to my head

level. Wanting to show some sign of rebellion to

my captors, I picked up the remainder of the loaf

of bread and hurled it at the clock. It missed, but

on the way down the second’s hand hit it. And

cut it in half.

I watched the pieces of bread fall. I was

frozen to the spot, until I realized what this

meant. I turned to the pit and looked at the clock.

Yes this clock had knives instead of hands. And

so did the one on the ceiling. It would cut me in

half. The clock was speeding up now, coming

lower and lower.

“Looks like my time’s run out” I said. Then I

smiled. That could be the last joke I ever make. I

decided that the only safe place from the whirling

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hands was into the pit. I crawled over to the

ladder, and climbed down, the hands right above

my head. I stepped down onto the seemingly

empty space were the glass was. And felt my foot

fall into thin air.

I fell, down, down, down. I reasoned that

some of the inquisition might have moved the

glass. After all, they did want to kill me. Down,

down, down I fell. I may still be falling today. Or

I may have hit the bottom. Or I could have

smashed into the sides. I do not know.

180

Elliot Flagg

grade 7 For The Sake Of Exploration

When I crossed a threshold into a new

state, I had to start over with nothing, except a

few seeds.

We’re at base camp. I’m still unsure what

to do. I feel like this is the right thing to do. Wait,

you’re probably thinking, ‘Who is this guy? What

is he talking about?’ My name is Jason Zelda.

People call me JZ. I know you’re probably

thinking, His name sounds like that rapper’s

name, but I swear to god if anyone said that to

me, I would flip.

As I said, again, you’re probably thinking,

‘What is he talking about, what are these seeds?

Why is he starting over with nothing?’ If I were to

tell you what my seeds were, I would probably

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say, ‘My amazing sense of time, and my

eagerness for exploration.’ Actually my parents

named me Jason because of my amazing sense of

time. Jason is the only name with five consecutive

months in a row, July August September October

November December. But enough of me, let’s get

back to the story.

We were at base-camp. It was so cold!

“Jason! How long ‘till we start moving?”

said Harry.

Harry has been one of my closest friends

since before I can remember.

“I just don’t know.” I replied, “but it’s so

cold down here. I’d rather be moving than

freezing to death.”

“Well do you know what time it is at

least?”

182

I looked up, the sun was two quarters of an

inch to the left of the horizon, “It’s quarter to six.”

“Thanks,” he said. Then he ran back into

his tent.

***

I woke up in a cold sweat. My pillows and

blankets were on the floor. I sat up and looked

around. In the tent there were ten cots, five on

either side. In the center there was on LED light.

As it shown I could see little dust particles

floating in the air.

‘Man,” I thought to myself, ‘It’s dirty in

here.’

As my eyelids got heavy, my body came

down to the bed. As I was lying there, I slowly

fell asleep. V e r y s l o w y.

***

183

I woke up to the sight of Jack. He was

shaking me. Jack was a man that I had met just

before this trip started. But ever since I’ve felt like

I knew him. He said that this trip was “for the

sake of exploration,” whatever that means.

“JZ, get out of bed. We’re getting out of

here.” Jack said

I jumped out of bed, and ran over to my

backpack. It was wet with the condensation from

my water bottle. I pulled out my long

underwear… Then my sweater… My thin

pants… My hat… And finally my snow pants and

jacket. Then I slipped into my boots, grabbed my

backpack… Strapped my skis to my backpack…

And got out.

***

It was blistering cold outside. I already

wanted to turn back… But I couldn’t. My face

184

burned, and my eyes went dry. So I put on my

goggles. Still, as I peered through them, all I

could see was solid white.

“Come on Jason! We’re gonna leave

without ‘ya.” Harry yelled through the haze.

You know what, I actually just realized

that Harry is the only person that calls me by my

first name. But that doesn’t really matter, let’s get

back to the story.

***

I started climbing. Even with my jacket on,

I was still cold. I wondered when this storm was

going to stop. As I caught up to the group, I saw a

clearing.

I yelled to the group, “Guys, I think there’s

a break in the storm!”

“Yeah, that’s the ridge,” said Ferdinand.

185

Ferdinand was the leader of the group, I

only met him yesterday but I trust him.

We approached a ladder that was placed

down over a deep treacherous looking crevice.

The men slowly crossed, but I felt very confident.

I said, “Ferdinand, take the ladder down;

I’m going to jump.”

“JZ that’s suicidal!” Ferdinand said.

“Ferdinand, I just have this feeling.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

He took the ladder away. I took a deep

breath, stepped back, and started running.

Quickly the ledge got closer. My

adrenaline was pumping. My heart, racing. The

men stared, scared, startled. Then… I leaped.

***

186

My arms and legs were sprawled. I glided

through the air with a certain confidence. Then as

I got nearer, it looked like I wasn’t going to make

it. I frantically reached for the ledge. I started to

fall. Then my fingers touched the other side…

And missed. Instead of flying forward, I fell

down. Then Ferdinand grabbed my wrists.

“Not now, not like this,” he said.

“Oh my god, thank you!” I exclaimed.

We continued the hike, and I couldn’t get the

thought out of my head. I was so confident that I

was going to make it. It was all kind of stupid

though. I could’ve wasted my life there and then.

***

“Here we are boys, this is the ridge,”

Ferdinand said.

It was more beautiful than I’ve ever

imagined. We were above the storm. The clouds

187

lingered below, like giant, beautiful cotton balls,

floating, slowly moving. Then I looked to the

right. The mountains were wonderful. Each peak

different, like the snowflakes that resided with

them. But there was no time to think, it was

getting dark and I needed to help set up camp.

***

We were sitting around the campfire,

planning on what we were going to do in the

morning.

“It may be warm now, boys, but be ready for

a cold and hellish night,” Ferdinand said.

“I think we should cut our losses, skip the

detour, and go up break-neck trail,” Jack said.

“I just don’t know, it all sounds risky to me,”

Harry said.

“We all need our sleep, it’s late.” Jack said.

“It’s ten o’clock.” I said.

188

“Yeah,” said Jack, “We’ll regroup in the

morning.”

We all walked to our tents, zipped up the

doors, and eventually went to bed.

***

I woke up cold, and I heard someone scream.

I ran outside my tent, disoriented from the frost. I

saw a tent that was half open, so I ran in. Harry’s

face was blue. Ferdinand stood above him.

Ferdinand wasn’t moving frightened. I was

distraught. My only friend had died. Ferdinand

told me his tent wasn’t closed all the way. But we

had to continue the hike.

***

It was colder than ever before. The snow blew

in our faces as we balanced on the skinny ridge.

Hoping that we wouldn’t get blown off that god

forsaken thing. My goggles had frozen over, with

189

a sort of glow to them. Every minute or so I

needed to clean them, but it was no use. I kept

walking. It was quite sudden when Jack yelled,

“We’ve made it men, this is the peak.”

I was so surprised. It had seemed like only a

small time (with all that goggle cleaning and

such.) As I took off my goggles, I realized that the

wind had subsided. The snow stopped falling.

Everything seemed so silent, and peaceful. I

pulled my jacket’s hood down, I was short of

breathing, so I sat down on a rock.

“It seems so unreal,” I said.

“I know,” Jack replied, with a grin on his face.

“Let’s go men,” Ferdinand said, “Get your

skis.”

We took our skis off of our backpacks, put

them on our feet, and approached the side of the

mountain.

190

***

I could see my breath in front of me. My heart

felt like it was beating out of my chest. My legs

were sore from climbing. But I made it this far,

‘let’s do this,’ I thought to myself.

I scooted to the edge, and leaned my skis over

the side.

Ferdinand said, “Three, two, one, go!”

We jumped off the side of the mountain. The

wind blew our faces like never before. I would

guess at twenty miles an hour. In fact, we were

going so fast that the little snowflakes felt like

rocks when they eventually hit your face. The

pain felt everlasting.

I was dodging trees. The one obstacle that

could cost me this whole trip. All of a sudden I

passed into a misty area. Maybe I would’ve seen

the tree that was about to hit me right in the face!

191

***

I couldn’t open my eyes, but I could think to

myself. ‘Where am I?’ I thought to myself, “What

am I doing here?’ I couldn’t remember what had

happened.

Then I heard an echoing voice, “I don’t think

he’s going to make it.”

“Ferdinand,” someone said, “Let’s face the

facts.”

‘Ferdinand, I’ve heard that name before, but

where?’ I thought to myself.

“I just won’t,” the person they called

Ferdinand said.

I was so angry, I clenched my fists.

“He moved!” The first voice said, “Get an

nurse, quickly!”

‘’I’m in a hospital,’ it was all coming back to

me. The first voice was the doctor, then there was

192

Ferdinand, and Jack. ‘The crash, how could I

forget.’ I thought to myself, ‘That’s why I’m in

this place.’

I heard footsteps running in.

“Doctor, what’s the matter.” She asked. I

assumed it was the nurse.

“This patient is waking up… Help me.”

***

I was sitting up in bed when Ferdinand

walked in.

“You gave us a real scare,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “But what happened after

I fell?”

“You just rolled the rest of the way down the

mountain, but you got lucky that we still weren’t

at the top, because that fall would’ve killed you.”

“Where’s Jack?”

“Outside.”

193

“Could you send him in.”

“Sure.”

As Jack walked in, he said with a grin, “I

wasn’t counting on you waking up.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Don’t you see, I was the one who pushed

you.”

“I wasn’t pushed.”

“I didn’t like you from the start, so I

tempered with your skis and pushed you.”

I was about to yell, but he punched me in the

face, and my vision went black.

***

I woke up in a chair, with my hands tied

behind my back, and a handkerchief over my

mouth. Except I wasn’t in the hospital anymore, I

didn’t know where I was.

194

Suddenly Jack walked in and pulled the gag

out of my sore, dry mouth.

“Gosh, you’re a wreck,” I said to him.

He slapped me across the face.

“Shut up, you irritate me.” He said.

“How ‘bout you explain yourself.”

“Well,” he said, “One day, me and my best

friend were at the playground. We were having a

great time, then he said, ‘Let’s play hide and

seek.’ So we started, I hid. But for some strange

reason, my ‘friend’ of mine, never went looking

for me. In fact, no one ever looked for me. I was

alone in the deep dark city. Do you know what

it’s like to get your first job when you’re ten?

How ‘bout stealing your first car at eleven? Does

that sound fun? But do you want to know the

funny part of that story?” He asked.

“What?”

195

“That little boy was you.”

It finally hit me, “Jack Sawyer, long time no

see.”

“Oh yeah by the way, remember Harry?”

“What about him?”

“I may have been the one who left his tent

open.”

“You monster!”

“What can I say, you left me alone, now it’s

time to return the favor.”

I was getting sweaty, and suddenly my hands

started to slip out of the ropes.

“So what’s your plan for me?”

“Oh, I’m not so mean. I was just going to

leave you here, to starve to death.”

This was my moment, my hands broke free,

and I grabbed the collar of his shirt.

196

“There are going to be some technical

difficulties.”

I tugged him by the scruff of the neck and

threw him out the window. Ten stories, he was

definitely dead.

***

I had made my way back to the hospital.

While I was lying in bed Ferdinand said, “My

golly!”

“Let’s just say I’ve had a rough day.” I said.

“What-”

“Yoohoo!” Someone said.

How could I miss that thick German accent.

As she made her appearance, she came up to my

bed and gave me a big bear hug. ‘Man I missed

those bear hugs,’ I thought to myself.

“Sveet hart, vee haf to make it home before

dinna.” She said.

197

It was my grandma, on my mother’s side.

“Hi Mutti.”

“Mutti” means mother in German. When my

mother was growing up, she called her that, and

it kind of stuck.

“Come on, vee don’t vant to be late.”

“Mutti, let’s go home.”

“Sveet hart, how vas your trip?”

“Let’s just focus on walking.”

The End

198

Luke Abramowitz grade 6 Untitled

I had gone some ten or twelve steps in that

manner when the hem of my robe caught my heel

causing me to stumble till I fell violently face

forward. I fall against the hard stone floor hitting

my head. I stay still barely able to breathe as my

face sears with pain. I know that I won’t stay

conscious for much longer. I stagger onto my

hands and knees, my vision blurs and then I black

out altogether.

I wake up to a throbbing in the back of my

head. I open my eyes and I am immediately sure

I’m not in the same room. I lay in the center of a

room on a cold stone floor. As look around the

room, gazing through the haze, I make out a

faucet a little bigger than my fist in the wall. It

199

stands at waist level jutting out of the wall a good

foot or so. I gaze down at my body and realize

I’m covered in sweat. It soaks into many layers of

rough fabric that cover my entire body, including

my feet and hands. Which are stuffed into warm

shoes and gloves. The only part of my body that

is not wrapped in cloth is my face which is

covered in scrapes and scabs from my fall. My

vision is better now, I can make out four rough

stone walls that are around thirty feet apart with

candelabras holding one candle in each corner.

The ceiling stretches up around fifty feet and is

also stone. I stand up clutching my head. I walk

towards the faucet and an idea of the Inquisition

torture for me pricks at the back of my mind. My

idea soon becomes a reality when I hear the

sound of liquid sloshing through pipes. Then as if

200

in slow motion I see muddy brown water slowly

dribble from the faucet.

The water splatters against the ground in

small clumps spilling across the room. It collects,

making a puddle underneath the faucet that

continually grows larger. I reach out with my foot

and touch the water. The water is ice cold and I

immediately pull my foot away. As the water

slowly creeps into the room I brush my hands

through my hair. I look down at my many layers

of cloths and then at the room taking in every

detail. I look up and then start to examine the

walls when my eyes land on the candelabra. I had

not paid much attention to them but now I realize

that they might be able to save my life. They are

very tall wooden stands that barely illuminate my

place were I will die. I walk towards one of the

four candelabras and grab the candle out of it.

201

However, as I climb onto the candelabra the

candle blows out and I place it back into its stand.

I slowly manage to thrust myself up onto the top

of the stand. A few seconds later I hear a crack

and I splash into the muddy freezing water. The

remnants of the candle stand and blown out

candle float in the water. The water level has now

grown and is up to my ankles. I reach down and

skim my hands through the water looking for

anything that might have gotten in here by

accident that can help me escape. As I run my

hand on the surface I see a glimmering oil that

swirls through the water reflecting a beautiful

rainbow array, that I can just make out. I

continually stare at the oil thinking about my life,

my kids and wife. I take my freezing hand out of

the water and look back towards the faucet and

something catches my eye.

202

I glance at the ceiling and freeze. The

ceiling has descended around seven feet. It is

hard to tell but I can just notice it. I take a step

forward and step on something slippery. I jolt my

foot back but after a few seconds I take the

courage and reach my hand into the gloomy

water. I immediately find a chunk of ice. It is the

size of a green pine cone but it immediately

crumbles in my gloves. As I hold the crushed ice

up to my face I start to think racking my brain

harder than ever to try to stop the water. I slowly

walk towards the faucet. As I near it I see chunks

of ice dribble out the faucet into the room. I

quickly tear a large piece of my robe of and stuff

it into the faucet. Hopefully it will hold the water

back long enough to let it freeze over. I then wait

as the faucet gets clogged and as the ceiling

comes down on me. Then after around forty

203

minutes the noise of dribbling water stops.

However that is not my only problem. The ceiling

has been descending faster than ever and I can

now make out sewing pins stuck into the wall

every few inches. The pins are about the size of

half my pointer finger. They are not big enough to

kill instantly but would dig into my skin causing

severe puncture wounds until the wall crushes

me or I drown.

The water has risen and is up to my calves.

Now my body under my waist is completely

numb and I can barely walk. To add to my

distress the candles have all died out except for

one. I stumble through the water, walking

towards the last candle. As I slosh through the icy

water, almost blind, it splashes up my body onto

my face. I trudge on and when I reach the candle I

quickly grab it. The sting of the icy water is so

204

overwhelming it feels like I’m being scorched by

the coals of a fire. Careful not to extinguish the

flame I walk around the ice room looking for the

faucet. When I finally reach it I thrust my hand,

with the candle in it in its direction to find that no

more water is coming out. I sigh in relief but the

thought of the ceiling and its sewing needles

press down on me and immediately tears apart

any sign of hope I had left. I look up and my heart

sinks to see the ceiling pressing down on me just

about three feet over my head. In my despair, I

drop the candle. I immediately know it’s a huge

mistake. The candle drops through the air just

inches before it hits the water. I take in a breath

bracing myself for what I know is going to

happen next. I should've thought about this, that

the Inquisition had more than one way of killing

me, more than one way of torture. This room will

205

soon be ablaze and I will be just another dying

soul within it. Before the candle touches the water

I close my eyes. As the candle flame makes

contact with the oily water the room bursts into

flame.

The fire swarms the whole room engulfing

me in burning hot flames. They burn through my

clothes and burn up my hair and face. I scream a

blood curdling scream as my face and body waist

up gets scorched. I feel my face melt away from

my body. The pain engulfs me. I then dunk into

the water. The water could be described as no

better than the fire. My body bleeds from where

the flames scorched me. It seeps into the water

along with my charred skin. The water burns me

like the fire but in a different way. It swirls

around my body suffocating me, making me

return back up to the fire for another breath.

206

Chilling my body to the bone. My lungs start to

burn as the seconds tick by. The cold sends

shivers through my body. My body becomes

numb and my wounds can barely be felt due to

the extreme cold. My lungs burn now with such

force I wouldn't have been surprised if a demon

was within me. I brush my hands through the

water trying to clear away as much oil as I can to

take a breath. I emerge from the water and gasp

air into my lungs.

I open my eyes for the first time since I was

burnt but do not look at my body. The thought of

seeing my burnt flesh is too frightening. I see the

ceiling has now lowered to be a few feet above

the water level. My eyes fill with tears and I

choke back a sob. Three deaths, three horrors, but

I'm supposed to die from one. Each as terrible as

the last. I pick my death. I dunk my head back

207

into the ice cold water with my eyes open and

blow, shooting bubbles out of my mouth and

nose. A few seconds after I exhale my lungs begin

to burn again. My blood spreads through the

water like before and I start to shake from the

cold. This will be my last feeling I think to myself

as I get more and more numb. My last thought

my last sight. I exhale more air trying to speed up

the process. My vision gets overwhelmed by

black spots and I lose feeling in my limbs. Ten

lives, maybe hundreds have been killed here and

they all have felt this pain, this distress. I am not

the first and will not be the last. I close my eyes

and have lost feeling in almost my whole body.

My life means nothing in the mass of dead men

and women, animals and living things who have

died. They have all died, why can’t I? Then, my

world closes around me and I see a glaring light.

208

Poetry

Art by Wenhao Cai &

Loulou Sloss

209

First Place - Greer Goergen grade 6

Fire and Ice

Hazy, endless pain. Red Fog,

Ripping, burning through the soul. Blazing cocoon of hate.

Closing in. Walls.

Separating us and them. The pain and the flames,

Licking the cage which binds our minds and traps the soul.

Filled with hate and envy, What you say is not who you are. What you do is not who you are.

Who you love is who you are.

The Cold. White and Blue.

Encircles us in rings of distrust. Drenching us in misery, soaking us in fear.

Wind whipping and cutting the fragileness of faith.

The cracks that form, The peak of resilience,

Closed up by the night, The endless white.

The ignorance, the hate. Suffocating us,

Hiding the fear, keeping us down, Below the surface,

210

What you cannot see is more important than what you can.

Two worlds collide,

Fire and ice. Melting to puddles of grey despair,

Freezing to ashes of hate. Fire and Ice.

The path of blazing hate, The path of frozen misery, Which one will you take?

Thawn out to cold, fearful drops Burnt down to envious hollow logs.

Fire and ice. Lost reality.

Utter emptiness. Fire and ice created the world.

211

Second Place - Lola Jakob grade 5

Broken Glass

As it was stepped on As someone fell

As something was said As something was felt

Pain shot up the body

Blood felt like it was everywhere A mess

Veins popped Cut the skin

Tore the insides Ripped up the mind Making it go crazy

People rushed towards you

Seeing what had happened, they needed to help Comforted you

Cleaned up the mess

Still pieces were there Not all cleaned up

Pain was left To linger in the air To scar you for life

212

Third Place - Ellie Cullman

grade 5 Lift Off

Looking up,

I close my eyes, and open my mind Anything can happen when you imagine Your mind takes you to a magical place

Where anything will take you higher When you imagine

Your heart takes you higher Higher is where anything can happen

But before you go You must believe the 6

3 . . . 2 . . . 1. . . The moment of clarity

Is the moment of the lift off 3 . . . 2 . . .1. . .

Lift off

213

Eliza Gilbert grade 6

Beneath Your Beautiful

Beneath your beautiful I find a demon

Proud and ruthless always scheming Beneath your beautiful

A flame arise Hidden in your perfect disguise

Beneath your beautiful A stone cold heart

Tearing peoples souls apart Beneath your beautiful Joy, gone with the rain

Invading peoples heads, working against their brain

Beneath your beautiful Loathing

For those who have less Knowing your words are adding to their stress

Beneath your beautiful A filter through your mind

Separating “freaks” from normal mankind. Beneath your beautiful

A judgmental brat

Whispering about that girl who you thought was fat

I know sometime back you were misunderstood But beneath your beautiful you soul is not good

214

Katherine Cook

grade 7 Blank

My mind is a blank. A sad, empty blank.

Where ideas used to flow,

there is now nothing.

A blue sea covered the sand, and life abounded.

But now the desert surrounds.

A cheerless wasteland.

It sounds melodramatic. I know.

But I have no creative thoughts, No sudden spark of inspiration.

And this makes me sad. I want them to return.

But somehow they won’t.

My muse has a cold.

My mind is a blank. A sad, empty blank.

215

Lily Greenberg grade 6

Blundermeecen

In Blundermeecen One always keeps their windows open

Believing that something might find its way through

Something that only they could imagine Like a squirrel that writes poetry on a typewriter

Like an old lady on a horsehair sofa Like a temporarily blind boy whose sight has

returned and is marveling at our ever-expanding Universe

Like a giant squid, the loneliest of creatures Like a ghost that is obliged to hold your hand

Sometimes nothing happens and the window is left alone and still

But one does it anyway For it’s the simple act of opening your window

to all the possibilities of this World that soothes the souls

In Blundermeecen

216

Eldon “Cub” Scott

grade 5 Dogs

roof, roof,

bow wow wow, grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, the sounds of the dog those cuddly monsters

the ones I live for without them,

I am dead. they make me happy,

but then sad, should I call them good or evil?

217

Cindy Barbossa grade 5

Don’t Shoot

One gunshot can destroy everything One gunshot can cause a life to dwindle out

One gunshot can cause a death Frustration Resentment Grievance

Blame Has this happened to anyone

Has this helped anyone Has it strengthened or

Died out the flowing current of life Have people felt shame

Resentment Guilt small If not

Have they felt Chutzpah

Unstoppable Powerful

Can anyone help Can anyone stop

No But can we change this from happening yes

Make a change and Don’t shoot

218

Katharine Sorensen grade 7

For What?

I study, I thrive, I learn, I strive,

For what? For school, that’s what.

You cry,

You scream, You yell,

You dream, For what?

For love, that’s what.

She hopes, She sings, She prays, She clings, For what?

For joy, that’s what.

We long, We dance, We wish,

We prance, For what?

For peace, that’s what.

You ask, You need,

219

You beg, You plead, For what?

For mercy, that’s what.

They fail, They try, They live, They die, For what?

For life, that’s what.

220

Katharine Sorensen

grade 7 Pour Quoi?

J’étudie,

Je prospère, J’apprends,

Je lutte, Pour quoi?

Pour l’école, c’est quoi.

Tu pleures, Tu hurles, Tu clames, Tu rêves,

Pour quoi? Pour l’amour, c’est quoi.

Elle espère, Elle chante,

Elle prie, Elle raccroche,

Pour quoi? Pour la joie, c’est quoi.

Nous désirons, Nous dansons,

Nous souhaitons, Nous sautillons,

Pour quoi? Pour la paix, c’est quoi.

Vous demandez, Vous nécessitez,

221

Vous suppliez, Vous implorez,

Pour quoi? Pour la clémence, c’est quoi.

Ils échouent, Ils essaient, Ils vivent,

Ils meurent, Pour quoi?

Pour la vie, c’est quoi.

222

Eliza Gilbert grade 6

Knocking on Fates Door

Love Love is unexplainable

Love is every step you take Love is the yearning for home

Alas, for every indecipherable moment in your life

There is but one small word Nothing has the capability or potential to harm

that love But you can waste it

In an instant That love can fly into the black hole

where all forgotten love goes and leave someone deflated

like a balloon hanging in a tree Helpless

And if love dies Then you have a person who is truly evil

So harness your momentum

Fill every corner of your body And use your love to protest the amiss in the

world Because there is too much lack of hope And fate that is deciding to hold back You can generate that illusive Hope

Hope that whispers in fate’s ear To never

Ever Give up on yourself

223

A world without love would be hollow. empty.

But fear can suppress love It can possess and control you like you’re a

ragdoll a child’s plaything

Overcoming fear can be like facing a wall of water Unprepared Unknowing

Understanding. You have to trust that love will come through in

the end And fate will eventually take your side.

If you believe in the people who believe in you.

224

Ben Scali

grade 7 Untitled

Thanksgiving is special, but Christmas is even

more special. One gets presents and one is with family.

The Grand-parents, the parents, the sisters, the brothers, and you!

Christmas is the best day of the year.

225

Ben Scali grade 7 Untitled

L'action de grace est special, mais noel est très

special.

On reçoit des cadeaux, et on est avec la famaille. Les Grand-parents, les parents, les soeur, les

freres, et toi. Noel est le jour favorite de l'année.

226

Blakely Duskin grade 5

Gymnastics It’s not just a sport,

nor an activity I do after school, It’s becoming

Part of my Life

Now it’s part of

Who I am

I always strive to work hard

and do my best

And when I reach the competition,

I feel life that’s where I belong, Do,

Free and flipping

Gymnastics It’s not a sport,

nor an activity I do after school, It’s becoming

Part of my Life

227

Lola Jakob grade 5

You, Not Me It was you,

Always going to be you But finally…

When I was crying, You were laughing If I started talking, You shut me down Not able to speak

Unable, no strength to talk to anyone

You drove away the nice ones They were so afraid to come back

And deal with you again Gone like the wind

In the blink of an eye, Because of

You

I tried to be better, Maybe you’d like that

If you were crying I’d comfort you

But no When you were falling, I was there to help you

But no, your friends came after me You pushed me aside to get to them

I was left in shame

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To sit in the corner Like the one drop of snow in the rain

Melting slowly Still, that was not the worst...

It was when You said it And did it

I had to run so far and fast, I could have been an Olympic runner

All the way home Still trying to get myself not to do the bad thing

of darkness

I came to a halt It was them

They knew what was going on Soon we left

Never to see you and your nasty words again Far away from my only problem,

You

I finally got it After thinking

I wasn’t the problem, It was You

I had just thought wrong

229

Lily Greenberg

grade 6 World in a Nutshell

Unsheathe your veil,

experiencing a million creations unnamed

a million Stories untold a million letters unwritten, saying things unsaid

a million beings in the middle of a breath a million Ideas sprouting from a million Minds,

surviving not living a million perspectives to a million illustrations of

ordinary, extraordinary life yet to be made

a million possible impossibles, a million forgotten

a million snippets of Human Consciousness Loves Hates Fears

Dreams Pasts

Knows Something

and Everything Else

What a wonderful world

230

Charlotte Robertson

grade 6 My Sag Harbor

The heavy door is embellished, With a whale knocker,

And on the side a doorbell, That no longer rings.

You walk up the porch steps, And turn the cold metal knob,

Pushing against the force, That never wants you to open the white door.

This is my Sag Harbor. The houses are small,

With dogs running out in the yard, As you walk into the town.

Pass the little ice cream parlor, And the restaurant with live lobsters, Watching you pass with fishy eyes.

And pass the toy store, Crowded with kids,

Holding quarters to get their turn on the, Coin operated fire engines.

This is my Sag Harbor. A shimmering turquoise is the color of the,

Wharf. Where huge crew ships, Put down their anchors,

And tie themselves to the dock. The sailboats can be seen for miles,

Clipped to their buoys, Floating on the surface like butterflies,

In a peaceful order, Until a motorboat comes racing through,

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Creating waves. At the beach you see the rolling sand dunes, And the pebbles that litter the lining of the

incoming wave. Like lace the rocks encircle each other,

On the wet sand contrasting beautifully with The deep blue of the ocean,

And the lighter sky. This is my Sag Harbor. By Charlotte Robertson

November 2014

232

The Story of a Troublesome Bubble

The Advanced Shakespeare Class

Briana Antigua Eliza Gilbert

Anthony Melke Cadence Plenge

Charlotte Robertson

My bubble friend is sick and like to die He lies in soap so desperate for some care

I think about it and I start to cry His tender age just leaves me in despair Our romance started five seconds ago I gave him life, with love I set him free

When first I saw him love began to grow I could not help but watch him near the tree

I wish I could have warned him yet my touch Would cause my dear old friend to then explode

The wicked tree had grasped him in its clutch So now this is my very tragic ode

Alas our love was brief but oh so sweet My beautiful, my only, now complete.

233

Wenhao Cai & Lucy Schwalbe

grade 5 One of Life’s Many Mysteries

In the light, I never seem to be alone

You always magically appear, to guide me along the way

I can always trust that you’ll be there You mirror me in my reflection

I move, you move I walk, you follow

Like a vine you grow Like ice you shrink

What is your purpose? Where do you come from?

Perhaps the world will never know You are…

MY SHADOW

234

Bo Goergen grade 5 Untitled

I am cutting across the woods to my house,

The trees looming and bowing, My horse is lame, And I am blamed.

I wish to leave But I may not.

I am telling my horse the house is near, But I think it may be the year,

When he finally dies. I see the man who owns the forest,

He is looking at me, Waiting for the time that I flee,

He owns the key to endless pain, So I thinks it is time to flee,

Flee, Flee.

235

Anna Sorensen grade 5 Seasons

leaves are falling wind is blowing

weather is changing

snow is ascending the wind is chilling

holidays are

here

rain is tumbling the wind is

soft flowers are blooming

sun is shining

wind is seldom children are playing

leaves are falling wind is blowing

weather is changing The

Cycle Continues

Christmas

the snow is

236

falling the wind is

freezing

hope is coming

people are

waiting

the choirs sing caroling

children are joyful

Christmas is

here

237

Thomas Yun grade 5

An Everlasting Stream On a midsummer morning,

I walk up to a stream. With rock so smooth or sharp.

Flowerbeds and weeds. Birds calling.

And now I have peace. Right here by this Everlasting stream

238

Thomas Yun grade 5

The Quiet Forest

I go from my home. Into a forest. Birds calling,

From high in their nest. Sun shining through,

The everlasting leaves. With twigs on the ground,

Of The everlasting forest

239

Thomas Yun grade 5

Life

Sometimes I wonder, How I am here.

On cold and rainy days. Cause it feels like it was only Yesterday when I was little. When the sun was shining,

On someone who has passed. Then grow up to where

I am now. I will get older. And I will die. I guess that’s

Life.

240

Thomas Yun grade 5

The Blanket Of Snow

Snow. Snow has come like a

Blanket for sleeping mother earth. I look out,

Of my frosty window. Just looking at miles and miles of

Snow

241

Thomas Yun grade 5 Winter

Turning water to

Cold hard ice. Coating trees with colder

Than cold snow. Children sledding on

A snowy hillside. All sleep, but the

Winter

242

Thomas Yun grade 5

A Good Day At Work

On the way home From my New York City Job.

I count my money. I see I have enough From a good day At my NYC job

243

Thomas Yun

grade 5 New York City

If you think

NYC is all tall buildings Your wrong.

There are alleyways. Where people hang out.

Bad people who you don’t want to meet in

NYC

244

Anna Sorensen grade 5 Untitled

Tonight I will go out the door,

To venture out on the earth’s floor

I shall, I will, make it snow, In the winter it will grow

The snow is blowing in my face,

As if it is on a chase

The wind is howling in my ear, As if it is shouting a cheer

I need to get home soon,

I have until down goes the moon

On the longest night, The earth is covered in white

245

Lila Gimbel

grade 5 Time

Time

You don’t need a watch to tell time

You can see it in the world You can see it in people

You can see it in life

One minute you’re at a hospital new to the world

The next you’re at a hospital almost gone

It passes no matter what

always at the same speed, though,

sometimes it feels slower

or faster

When you want it to speed up,

it slows down When you want it to slow down,

it speeds up

You don’t need a watch to tell time

You can see it in the world You can see it in people

You can see it in life

246

You can feel it,

though, it is not there It is in you,

though, its not

It is the most powerful thing in the world

You don’t need a watch to tell

time You can see it in the world

You can see it in people You can see it in life.

247

Claudia Goodwin grade 5

Waves Of Life

It starts at the beginning Where every wave is small

Once your at your highest point You crash

But there is more to it than that You have to be built up to who you want to be

There are good moments Bad moments

And moments in between But you only grow stronger and stronger

As your life goes on You fall

Leaving nothing behind But to find a new life ahead of you

248

Ellie Cullman grade 5

Unicorn Fate

A horned horse A beautiful land

An unknown myth Wings of an angel Heart of a rainbow

Soul of any living person Brings joy to any fly any elephant any one of us

Bringing you higher and higher Closer and closer

‘Till you reach the belief For any unicorn is real As so some people say

249

Josephine O’Brien

grade 6 Untitled

Fear,

I know it is there, fear that is crawling and searching, leading us like pigs to the slaughter,

But I am there, in the darkness and in the light,

the ever present fear.

You’re suffocating, the fear is pulling you down, gripping you like a hot towel,

your deadly last breaths, it’s taking you to the deep unknown,

you’re drowning in the fear.

You must be free, In fear, you must be free, life will send you along,

but you will know, it’s there,

leading you, like a coffin down a rugged pit.

I know it,

you know it, it’s looming like deadly suspense,

it was always there, watching you and teaching you,

following you since you were just a child.

250

It swooped, brought,

it was a dark veil of ever present murkiness,

amber eyes, forever piercing through the darkness

of the fear.

The memories, the pain is taking you back,

haunting you with the memoirs of childhoods past.

There’s a baby on a ratty pink carpet,

it’s rolling, laughing,

but it can sense the fear watching it from a corner of the room,

It knows it, it will grow up,

to be you.

There’s a toddler, roughly playing on a playground jungle gym,

it’s falling, slipping from the rungs of a slimy metal ladder,

the fear was there, it threw him,

pushed him down through the veil of the ever-present fear.

Then there’s a girl,

she’s young, smoothing her dark brown hair

with a nervous habit,

251

her limbs are shaking like branches bending in the wind,

her sweat blocking her vision of the crowds below her,

it’s almost time for her to begin, but the fear is caressing her,

it’s leading her under the bright spotlights, leading her always onward.

Now there’s a teenage boy,

sitting in front of his principal’s oak wood door, he’s scared,

more afraid than he has ever been before, he’s in trouble and he knows it,

it was the fear that led him to do it, the fear that brought him to the principal to

confess, the fear was leading him,

leading him like the sick to their deathbed

The memories end, the fogginess leaves,

and you are left with only the fear, the fear is watching for you,

waiting to take you to your death.

It was watching, it is watching, we know it, it knows it,

it’s teaching, watching, taunting,

we’re living, living with the fear.

252

Rania Challita grade 5 America

Stars and stripes,

They play on pipes, Dancing around

To the great sound.

“O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain,

For purple mountain majesties, above the fruited plain.”

We hear the shout and we hear them cry,

“America! America! God shed his grace on thee!” We sing songs of good for all to hear,

“And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea!”

Stars and stripes sing their songs,

For now and ever long.

253

Aaron Hessel grade 5

Seasons Change

The seasons change gracefully. Leaves fall,

Temperatures change, And flowers blossom.

Different things happen when the seasons change.

Different colors. Winter,Winter,Winter, Spring,Spring,Spring,

Summer,Summer,Summer, Fall,Fall,Fall.

254

Susanna Langan

grade 6 Many Things

You call me by many names

But I am many things I am the reason you say you don’t hate the dark

I pushed you into that cold lake And pulled you out again

I am your worst enemy And your best friend

I make you scared I make you brave I make you weak I make you strong

You call me by many names But I am many things

255

Alina Pearlroth grade 7

The Feeling of Mad

You know that feeling that you feel when you know that people

are talking about you I know that feeling

I know that feeling too well It makes me mad

It makes me so mad But

I can’t do anything about it I just clench my fists

and breathe As I look over

They look away They whisper

and I can hear them And that makes me so mad

But they keep on whispering I know they’re talking about me

I just know “She’s always hanging out with them”

I wish they would just STOP!

I hate it! I just hate it!

I clench my pen harder and harder

I hate it so much! Just stop talking about me!

I can still hear them talking

256

People tell me to ignore it People tell me not to listen

But it’s so hard not to give in to them I don’t know what it is

What it is about that feeling That feeling you feel when you KNOW people

are talking about you

It just angers me So much

I don’t know what it is about my anger It boils over

More and more

with each whisper My hands grab at nothing

I can’t control it I wish I could

But I can’t I just can’t

so just stop

whispering!

257

Lila Gimbel grade 5 Water

It is everywhere

The source of your body The reason you’re alive

We use it daily, In everything we do

It is mysterious but, everyone

and everything

knows about it

It can be whatever color you want it to be or

whatever you want it to be

It is wet though it is dry

It is the only real

wonder of the world

It grows everywhere

though it doesn't

grow

You can use it, but,

can't make more

258

Alina Pearlroth grade 7

What am I? And Who Are You?

Who am I? What am I? Am I both?

a he or a she

You don’t know me You’ll never know me But I don’t me either

I don’t know what I see a punk a boy

a dancer or just a reflection

I don’t know me at all But who are you?

Are you nobody too? Do you know who you belong to?

Do you know what you are? Who am I

What are you Where am I

Who are you Do you know that I’m a nobody too?

259

Cindy Barbossa grade 5

What If?

Staring at a photo Wondering about where it was taken

was it in America Canada

or Antarctica? Or maybe Australia

Asia Or Europe?

The reply is simple, Maybe

Was it in another time Another world?

The answer is simple, No

Maybe it was taken on mars Pluto

The sun The question is simple,

How? When was it taken?

In 1900 or 3014?

Black and white? A photo that is 3D, That you can touch

That you can see The answer is simple,

I don’t know... That is impossible.

What are you thinking!

260

But still I have been told this More and more

And still a thought lingers in my mind What if?

261

Alina Pearlroth grade 7 Words

Words

they hurt they don’t go away

they’re with you until you’re lasting day Words

aren’t words they’re spears and knives

they cut you up all up inside

Words The sticks and the stones

they can break your bones But words can hurt you more They’ll always hurt you more

As you walk through this world Those words stick with you as you walk this

world of ours They’re like a sign

shining bright upon you forever

262

Alina Pearlroth grade 7

You Don’t Know Me

You don’t know me at all Not even the first thing

Oh you do

then where am I writing this from? What do I look like?

Am I a boy or a girl or both

and if I’m both then why?

and if why then when and if when then how?

See you don’t know the first thing about me

but do you want to know a secret?

. . . . I don’t know me either

yes it’s true

I don’t know what I want to do I don’t know my present

my future and barely the past

I don’t know who I love if I can love at all

Or if I’m even worth loving to begin with But how should I even know any of this

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How should I know anything? How should I? I don’t know

I don’t know anything Or do I?

I could know where you are while you’re reading this

I could know everything about you if you’re a boy

a girl or even both

what you look like and who you are

and yes if

you were

wondering I am

watching you

with my big brown eyes I’m staring right into you

and if you don’t believe me just turn

around

264

Susanna Langan

grade 6 Your Broken Soul

What happens when you break

Where do you go When all is lost

When all is crumbling around you And how do you rise

How do you fix The mess that has been presented to you

The puzzle pieces fit Somehow

And when you figure it out When you put it back together again

Then you will know What happened to your broken soul