SACO MIDDLE SCHOOL’S LITERARY MAGAZINE

Welcome!Here it is, the first edition of Saco Middle School’s literary journal, a place to showcase the writing of some amazingly talented students at our school. Here you will read poetry, stories, articles, and more while feasting your eyes on the photography and artwork of some of our gifted artists.

WANT TO BE INCLUDED?We would love to include your work in our next issue. We accept poetry, essays, letters, or whatever other writing your wonderful brains can come up with! For a piece to be considered, it must be 100% original writing which has been revised and edited. Please submit your writing electronically to our staff editor, Ms. Nicholson, at gnicholson@rsu23.org or you may submit to our 8th grade student editor, Katie Grant at katiegrant0@gmail.com

Our Group8th Grade: Katie Grant, 8th Grade EditorJulianne Andreades and Daniella Sirois, Design EditorsVictoria Green, Rhiannon Johnson, Meaghan Stephenson, Tessa Wunderlich

7th Grade: Noelle Michaud, 7th Grade EditorAmber Coxen, Erin Farrell, Hannah Faucher, Lucy Freeman, Salma Khalifa, Laura Luchetti, Sara McInnis-Misenor, Sarah Vandermeer

Bobcat Tales ISSUE 1

Ms. Nic’s Poet-treeIncluded in each issue will be an inspirational quote column.

There will be a submission box located in room C5. (Ms. Nicholson’s room) If you have a favorite quote, feel free to submit it for our next issue.

This issue’s quote is:

Nothing is more beautiful than a smile

that has struggled through tears.~ Demi Lovato ~

Thank you to Ms. Hoyniak and her 7th grade art students Ella, Issiah, Hunter and Lexi for allowing us to include their mandalas. The design was done from scratch with pencil, paper, and Sharpie marker. They then took pictures of their work and uploaded them into Acorn, a design program on their laptops. The analogous color harmony was added on their computers. Thanks for adding beauty and color to our magazine!

The Blizzardby Amber Coxen, 7

The snow falls fast

Looking back at the past,

But the cloud has moved on

And is long gone.

Wintertimeby Sara McInnis-Misenor, 7

Little flakes oh so white. Coming from a sky so blue and bright.

Why is this phenomenon going on? It seems to sing a beautiful song.

The children playing happily about, Running around all ready in wintertime to laugh and shout.

Snowmen, snowmen everywhere. Every place you go you see them there.

Curious grins, and button eyes. 3 snowballs decreasing in size. `

Their stick arms almost wave good-bye, As you leave them with an enormous sigh.

Children on their sleds, all happy and merry, And their cheeks are as red as a scarlet strawberry.

Kids in snowball fights, and parents in long winter nights.

These all make winter as joyous as can be, and more fun for everyone, just take it from me.

Christmasby Amber Coxen, 7

Is a time for joyFilled with toys

The children awakeReady to take

A look at the presentsUnder the tree

They shout with GleeAs the tree’s glow

Shines brighter than the snow

Through The Windowby Hannah Faucher, 7

Through the window,It is white, unblemished.

Through the window,So windy and cold.

Through the window,Wonder reigns.

Through the window,Everything glitters, With the light of this year’sChristmas snow.

Fantasy Stuckby Erin Farrell, 7

Once upon a time there were four figures of legend. The Heir of Breath, The Knight of Time, The Witch of Space, and The Seer of Light. Each of these humans was given abilities that have been said to have been bestowed upon them by Gog himself at their birth. The four had traveled the universe and helped save worlds on the back of a magnificent white dragon that the mighty knight had tamed himself. In this tale, the four heros landed on a planet known as Alternia, who was being controlled by a great evil cherub known as Lord English and his henchwoman, Snowman. Many trolls, for that was the known species that inhabited this planet, were killed trying to stop the evil over lords. That is why today, the four humans had landed on this desolate planet.

Now let’s get one thing settled here. When you think troll you think big ugly thing right? Wrong. Trolls look like humans except they have grey skin and have different blood colors. Actually having cherry red blood is bad and you are considered a mutant. The closer your blood color is to pink, they more royal you are and the closer you are to red the lower on the, what is called the hemospectrum. Example: Indigo= High blood Orange/Rust color= Low blood.

Making sense? I hope not.

Further more, trolls have an odd romance that consists of four quadrants. Four stages o love if will. It’s very complicated and strange so I will try to make this short and sweet. Matesprit also known as the red part of the quadrant, is the closest thing known to human love. Moirail also known as the pale part of the quadrant, is the closest thing resembling a sort of sibling relationship. Your moirail also acts as a balance beam and keeps you steady so you don’t do something stupid like kill someone. Kismeses also known as the black part of the quadrant is quite different from anything us humans feel. The best way to describe it is to say you hate someone so much you love them. Last but not least is auspitice which is when one person gets in between two trolls so their feelings don’t go completely black on one another.

Although none of the trolls are introduced until later this is still important to go over so you aren’t so confused at a later date.

Also, you will hear people are referred as certain titles for example Knight of Time. You can either take these titles as literal and find some deep meaning to it or just except them as titles. Don’t ignore them completely thought, they do hold some importance.

Last but not least: this is making fun of a web comic I read so I do not own any of the characters. All characters, titles, and anything homestuck-related belong to Andrew Hussie. If you are interested, you can read the real version at mspaintasventures.com but that’s only if you are interested in having your life slowly being sucked away by this extremely long web comic. Do you think I’m being sarcastic? I’m not. Try me I dare you.

To be continued...

Strike 3? Not Me!by Noelle Michaud, 7

I stepped up to the plate, shaking as I spit out a wad of pink gum. I gulped as the opposing pitcher shot a glare at me. Feeling my bat twist in my hand, I viewed the blazing sun blanket across the field. There’s the windup, and before I could even react, bang! right into the catcher’s mitt. “Strrrrriiike 1!” yelled the umpire. A bead of sweat rolled down my face as the crowd cheered. The pitcher eyed the ball and pitched a perfect line drive down the middle, straight into the catcher’s glove. “Strrrrriiike 2!” the umpire’s loud voice bellowed. Oh, no I thought to myself. My heart started racing a thousand miles a minute as I took a deep breath and readied myself into stance. Smiling, the pitcher’s third and final windup occurred. I watched as the ball rolled off of her fingertips clearly out of any batter’s batting range. I closed my eyes and grinned as my instincts took over and I felt my arms swinging the heavy metal bat through the air. No way I thought to myself as I heard the satisfactory whack. Just as I opened my eyes I stared at the ball powerfully fly deep into left field. My feet suddenly started moving faster than my brain as they took over and ran to first base, then second, third! The crowd started screaming, “STOP RUNNING!” but I couldn’t help it. I bolted home as I saw the third baseman chasing me with the ball. I grinned once more as I leaped onto the plate. Victory.

HungryI want to eatHmm...Maybe something sweet?My eyes travel to a certain bowlOver by the bread and rollsFoil-covered chocolateMy hand slips one into my pocketMmmm...so yummy and fineI think I will make one more mineOkay, that's enough. Wait till dinnerOr you won't be getting any thinner!

No, but wait. Just one more...I love them from my very coreLater, after supper's pastMy littlest brother sits there, aghast"Hey! There isn't any Kisses left!"I suddenly seem to have gone deafOldest brother yells for MomThen my brothers drop the bombSoon, I'm sent to my doomSitting up here in my roomBut still, what's more deliciousThan a big pile of Hershey kisses?

The Hershey Thiefby Lucy Freeman, 7

Invisibleby Katie Grant, 8

I may act happyI may act coolI may be laughingI may talk to peopleBut I’ll always be invisibleI may have good gradesI may dance a lotI may write poetryI may be quietI may be listening But I’ll always be invisiblePeople may whisperPoint and starePeople may be rude Their comments may attack meThey may hurt deep downBut I may never let my feelings showBecause I’ll never be known I’ll always be invisible

Broken </3by Noelle Michaud, 7

They say she’s fat,They say she’s ugly,They say she’s useless.

She thinks she’s fat,She thinks she’s ugly,She thinks she’s useless.

I know she’s strong,I know she’s beautiful,I know she’s valued,I know she’s perfect.

Birdsby Katie Grant, 8

I watch the birds flyWhat they are I have no clue

Simply beautiful

They swoop, glide, and soarEffortlessly through the wind

Between flaps they sing

They sit still, waitingThen a loud noise startles them

They all fly away

In a blur of colorRed, Orange, Yellow, Blue, Gray

A rainbow of birds.

December 15th HaikuBy Rhiannon Johnson, 8

The doors fly open.Teachers escort their students -cloaked by fear, they wait.

The Harpby Anonymous

Millie Pawn was a smart, sensible girl, so of course, she didn’t believe in ghosts, big foot, or myths. Maybe she didn’t believe in them, but Millie loved to hear myths. Her favorite was the myth of the evil harp:

There’s a little harp in the forest which plays music so beautiful, so enchanting, that anyone who hears it will be drawn closer, and closer,until they can almost touch it. When they get as close as possible without touching it, the harp stops playing its music, and the person is left holding it, trying desperately to recreate the music, but nobody can. They want so badly to hear the music again that they refuse to leave, and with nothing to eat or drink, they die. Once they die, their bodies are slowly drawn into the harp. Soon, they completely disappear.

“Jack, where is the camp? We’ve been walking for hours,” Millie said to her older brother. “Hmm, I’ll check the map,” he replied, reaching into his backpack. “Hey, where’s the map?” “I thought you brought it.” “Why would I bring it? I’m stupid, remember?” he said sarcastically. “Well, don’t blame me, I’m the little sister. You’re supposed to be responsible.” “I’m responsible...I just forget maps sometimes,” Jack said. Jack put his bag down and started searching through it more thoroughly. He took out a candy bar, flashlight, goggles, toothbrush, water bottle, blanket, and his father’s old pocket knife. Millie sat down beside him, grabbed the candy bar, and took a bite. “Hey, that’s mine!” Jack said. Millie laughed and hid it behind her back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, her mouth full of chocolate. “Whatever,” Jack said, and he went back to searching for the map. He pulled out a compass and said, “Well, this will be better than nothing. Let’s go.” Apparently, Jack had no idea how to use a compass, because they were soon even more lost. They discovered a river that was so clean it seemed impossible. “Mom said that when we were walking to this camp we’d see big trees and a field, but she never said anything about a river,” Jack said. “Maybe she just doesn’t trust you enough to tell you all the details about where we’re going,” Millie said, looking at her nails. Jack ignored her and kept walking west, following the edge of the river. They soon found themselves at the widest part of the river, where the current was at its strongest. There were so many splashes that neither of them heard the music at first. When Millie got closer to the mouth of the river, though, she started to hear the most beautiful music she had ever heard. She thought that it might just be her brother’s headphones, turned up too loud, but when she turned to him she saw that he was listening to the music just as intently, with no headphones in sight. “Where’s that hippy music coming from?” Jack asked, looking around. “Just because all you listen to is rap music doesn’t mean that every other kind of music is for hippies,” Millie said. “I think it’s nice.” “How am I related to you? How can you think that sounds good?”

Millie heard what direction the music was coming from and began to follow it. “Hey, where are you going? Camp is that way.” “Just go without me,” Millie said. Jack sighed in frustration and followed her down through the dense woods. As the music grew louder Millie’s pace quickened in her hurry to get to the source of the sound. She didn’t know why, but she was excited to get to the music. When she finally got to where the music couldn’t get any louder, she saw something. She couldn’t quite make it out, but when she squinted she saw that it was a harp. So it’s true she thought, it’s really true! She knew she had to run away, but the music was so beautiful that she couldn’t leave now. She ran over to it to pick it up. The harp was so tiny she could probably fit it in her pocket. Just as she put out her hand to grab it, the harp stopped playing. At first the silence was a relief but then Millie felt as though all her happiness had drained away. Everything around her grew dark and cold and she cared about only one thing -- the harp must play again. “Millie! Hey, Millie where are you? What happened to that creepy music?” Jack said as he approached her. He could see everything clearly, but all he wanted to see was Millie. “It’s time to go.”She didn’t seem to hear him, so he talked louder. “What are you doing?” he shouted. Still no answer. He shook her shoulders, but she still didn’t turn around. She just kept looking at her hands. Then he noticed what she was really looking at. Jack never liked myths when he was a kid, so he had never heard the myth of the evil harp. He picked up the harp and said, “Is this where that music was coming from?” When she didn’t answer he threw the harp against the closest tree. It shattered and turned into dust as it hit the ground. Millie stood up and started yelling at him, “What did you do that for? I was trying to listen to music!” He took her arm and started pulling her in the other direction, but he stopped when he saw what the dust was turning into. “What the...” The dust was taking the shape of hundreds of people, all who had been in the news due to their disappearance over the past hundred years. They floated up, up, up into the clouds until they had all disappeared. Millie turned to her brother. “Thanks,” she said, looking at her shoes. “I just saved your life, and all you can say is ‘thanks’?” “I’d give you back your candy bar if I could, but...you know...” Millie and Jack turned away from the river and followed the compass to the campsite. This time, Millie was in charge of the compass.

The End

The Huntby Salma Khalifa, 7

An obsidian silhouette descended upon the boulders next to a clowder of other winged felines. The lone figure greeted her brethren with a sweet mix of purring and rumbling. The two exchanged series of noises and small screeches in some complex language. The second feline dispatched from the conversation, and proceeded to enter a lofty cavern, the first beast following. The pair were greeted by an assembly of other winged specimens, exchanging small meows and purring. They proceeded to exit through a gap in the rocky cave, soaring away in arrow formation.

…

Vantas reclined against the smooth surface of a boulder, soaking up the warm rays of sun. She groomed her coat calmly, examining the day’s activities through light blue eyes. The dragon cat leaned on her haunches, yawning. She got to her paws, and meandered towards the cave where her friends waited. Vantas entered the cavern, greeting her comrades. She proceeded to enter a second chamber, where a young feline lay, her paws tucked under her chest and wings curled back. This was her sister, Phantom. They had a rocky relationship, but otherwise they got along fine. Vantas trotted forward and shook her sibling eagerly. “Hey! Wake up, Phantom!” she meowed. Phantom blinked her eyes wide awake, startled, “Vamas!” she yawned, blinking the sleep from her eyes, “eh, I mean Vantas. Why’d you wake me?” she demanded. Vantas purred wit delight, toying with her sister’s ears, “Todays the big hunt! We are finally old enough to go with mom!” Every six moons, the flock of dragon cats- scientifically referred to as Dragonus Felis- set out on a long, five week hunt from which they recover an abundant amount of prey. Of course, they hunt between the moons so they can thrive. But when they return with the prey, there is a gargantuan feast celebrated in honor of their mighty clowder. Vantas bopped her sister on the head with a paw, “Lets go! They’re gonna leave soon!” Vantas bounded off, her ebony fur glowing russet in the sun. Phantom exited the cave drowsily, frowning with weariness. “Where’d you go?” she frowned, and examined the area. Phantom spotted a small hill, on which the elders of her flock had gathered. She stared in awe at their size, their lengthy claws and fangs. She wanted to be as mighty as them someday. She took one step forward, then BAM- her sister rocketed into her, rolling her into a rock. Phantom hissed with anger. “Get off!” There, Vantas sat poised for attack, smirking mischievously. “Got you!” Phantom rolled her eyes, her sister was such a tool. She rose to her paws, cantering towards her elders, reclining on a boulder while they prepared for the trip. Vantas meandered up to her side, purring with satisfaction. “This will be fun.” Phantom replied, “Oh, yes, it will.” The leader of their flock, Taru, announced that it was time for the annual hunt. The pack of cats spread their wings, ascending into the sky while a chorus of cheers thundered behind them. Then they were gone.

Some of our 8th grade writers, pictured clockwise from left: Victoria Green, Julianne Andreades, Daniella Sirois, Tessa Wunderlich, Katie Grant, Rhiannon Johnson