The 29th Annual Issue of

Creative Ink

A creative publication of student writing and artwork

Presented by the students of Marion High School

Mr. Greg Semler, PrincipalErik Trilk, Faculty Advisor

Sarah Eicher, Faculty Advisor

Volume 29

Marion High School Creative Ink Club - 2012-2013

Advisors: Erik Trilk & Sarah Eicher, MHS English

Cover & Division Design: Andie Scott, sophomore

Members:Mikayla Beik, freshmanKacey Jones, juniorAustin Lanteri, sophomoreAndie Scott, sophomore

A big thank you to Jen Thilges and her advanced drawing class for sharing their artistic talents, as well as all of the Creative Ink Contest judges!

A little history: Jim Bates, a long-time English teacher at MHS, founded the school’s literary magazine in 1985 and was the magazine’s first sponsor until 1997. Originally started from his Creative Writing classes, it was called The Wooden Indian; the name was changed to Creative Ink in 1990. Karen Hoyt, a former art teacher, was the faculty advisor from 1997-1999. Marc Ferguson, English teacher, took over from 1999-2012, and from there Erik Trilk and Sarah Eicher, English teachers, took the group over to produce this year’s magazine.

Two of the objectives of this group are to promote student writing and provide a showcase for it. Our writing club puts together a literary publication at the end of the school year, providing a place to showcase students’ creative writing and illustrating talents. We generate writing within our group and solicit it from others in the school. We also sponsor an annual writing contest during the year for all high school students. Illustrators are solicited to generate artwork for the pages. Then our editors (or advisors) put it all together, and it is sent to the publishers. Everyone who contributes in the club or with a piece of writing or artwork is presented with a free copy at the end of the school year.

Write on!

Table of ContentsTitle:

Contest WinnersThe Unborn Child

Boba FettPoetry Is...

Red Ribbons20/20

LoveA Porcelain Heart

Sinning and the SaviorRhythm of Life

Never Ending Pages

DeathSimonSky

PrayersFear of Darkness

GoodbyeThe Porcelain Girl

MiscellaneousSick Future

You Taught Me How to WaltzSomething to Cry AboutLife is a Beautiful Struggle

The UnitedHidden

Analog 3Music

The JungleFall of Sanity

Author

Heidi SchmidtAndie ScottAndie ScottEma Nelson

V.D.

Leslie ClappGage MiskimenMonica Corona

Grace Null

Katelynn ChalstromDezzi McNamara

Mikayla BeikBonnie Burnell

Katelynn ChalstromKacey Jones

Alex EstesB.J. Dunbar

Savannah GuyerLeslie Clapp

Preston BowersSavannah GuyerGage MiskimenSarah MorkMikayla BeikSarah Mork

ArtistAndie Scott

Zack LovisaJen Thilges

Andie Scott

Spencer HeerenAnonymous

Andie Scott

Spencer Heeren

Andie ScottNoah Miller

Andrea Newton

Sydney Pitstick

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The Unborn ChildBy: Heidi Schmidt

Writing Contest - Short Story Division - 1st Place

He stood there, quiet and solemn, his eyes burning from the intensely bright sunshine streaming in through the brilliant stained glass windows. He dared not move though, for it was his duty as the best man to show respect to his brother and his bride. As they were starting a new life together, he wanted this to be a very spe-cial day for the both of them. But it was hard to sit still, as excitement buzzed through him. However, it wasn’t for this special occasion that his heart raced, but for something completely different.

He could remember the sound of his wife’s voice as she whispered to him across the echoes of memories. “Andrew...I’m pregnant,” she had breathed in his ear, her voice tingling with excitement. He had felt like his heart had stopped, and even now he clutched at the folds of his new tuxedo in a mixture of excitement and fear. He strained his ears, listening for his wife’s familiar quiet breathing in the sea of silence. Try as he might, there were just too many people, so he entertained himself with the ever-changing pictures of his wife’s face, before he realized that his emotions might show on his face. He quickly relaxed, listening for the sounds that would indicate that something was about to happen.

Now, he could hear the music playing, that uplifting fanfare that jostled him from his memories, and he tilted his head towards the noise of the organ, listening for what was about to ensue. The sound of a hundred bodies turning reached his ears, as they all turned to catch the first glimpse of the bride as she walked down the aisle.

His unfocused eyes no longer burned as he closed them from the painful sunlight, having done his part. Everyone “oohed” and “ahhed” as they caught sight his new sister-in-law. He often wondered what her dress looked like, what everyone else could see. Excitement coursed through him, and he felt guilty for not paying attention to this event. He could understand his brother’s excitement though, as he himself had only been mar-ried for two years. And yet there was already a child on the way.

He was pulled from his thoughts as the music slowly came to a close. The priest slowly began those familiar lines, about life and death, commitment and dedication, love and hope. He relaxed slightly, lulled by the gentle melodic words.

“You may kiss the bride.”The room was shaken by the thunderous applause, as they all cheered for the new and happy couple. The

floor shook as all the people pounded down towards the exit to meet the newlyweds. He stood there in confu-sion, not knowing what to do. Finally, he felt his wife’s cool soft hand slip into his, and he began to relax.

“How was it?” She asked gently.He was quiet for a minute, before responding, “Where is he?”“Out here.” She led him towards the doorway, and he could feel people moving out of the way for them. He

apologized for being a nuisance, and he could feel his face growing hot. What made him so special that he should always be ushered to the front? He sighed. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen steps…

His wife’s hand slipped out of his, and was suddenly replaced by someone else’s. He started, rather ner-vous at first. Then he heard the voice of his brother’s wife, warm and brimming with happiness saying to him, “Thank you for coming, Andrew. It means so much to me that you’re here with us.” He embraced her, the soft folds of her dress cool against his skin. He felt his brother slap his back good naturedly, and before he knew it, the bright light of the sun blinded him as he and his wife stepped outside.

But it wasn’t until they were in the car that a horrible thought occurred to him, jolting him from his thoughts. His palms became damp with sweat, and his blood turned to ice, leaving nothing inside of him but the deep black dread and horror of what could come:

What if my child is blind like me?

2

Marion High School

Boba FettBy: Andie Scott

Writing Contest - Short Story Division - 2nd Place

I take my seat by the bar, the walk over accommodated by spasmodic gunshots of applause from the clumps of seedy (and probably drunk) bastards in their seats. I lean over the bar table, twisting my body as to place one hand on my hip and use the other as a rest for my chin. The stool beneath me spins smoothly in accord; I love going to gigs with spinny-chairs.

“Not bad.” The bartender comments, not breaking eye contact with the glass in his hand, continuing to polish it as I’m pretty sure he’d been doing for the past hour. He’s a blonde-haired-blue-eyed kid, 20 maybe, but could pass for 21 if he really had to. Heck, that’s probably how he got this job.

“Eh…” I grunt, running a hand through my dark brown hair, which looks almost black in the bar’s dim lighting. “Not the kind of crowd I like performing for.” I jerk my head in a gesture behind me. The bartend-er’s blue eyes flicker up for a moment before returning to the glass in his grip.

“Mhm.” He dismisses. “You say that every time you come here. Why do you still show up?”I chuckle at his joke – Horus is the kind of guy who looks deathly serious while joking around. He does

around me, anyway. Things like ‘Why won’t you just leave?’ and the like. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I get another shot at convincing you to leave this dead-end job and be the Boba to my Jango, if you catch my drift!” I watch Horus carefully and catch the ghost of a smirk on his lips. He’s always been into old stuff… history, mythology, that sort of thing. I figured he’d appreciate a reference to something well over 100 years old.

“Still on the bounty hunter thing?” He groans, rolling his eyes and setting down his perfect glass, slinging the rag over his shoulder. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: I’m only doing that PART TIME.”

“Why does it have to be part time? You’re not going to get any fame just sitting around here!”“I don’t want THAT kind of fame.” Horus turns away, grabbing a bottle of beer off the shelf behind him

and sliding it to a drunk 40-something near the end of the counter. I crinkle my nose.“What do you mean ‘That’ kind of fame?” I ask, trying to gain eye contact with Horus, but he keeps

blowing me off. Not because he’s nervous or insecure, but because he just doesn’t care enough. I like that about the kid. He would make an awesome protege… Even if I’m only a couple years ahead of him. I have experience that can’t be judged by the years – these aren’t Medieval Times!

“Us bounty hunters are the good guys around this dump!” Horus glances back as I gesture, sweeping my arm over the whole area behind me. “From Kagutsuchi to Naobi, and everything in between! We keep the criminals in line alongside the NOL…”

Horus cuts me off with a groan. I can’t see his face, but I can tell he’s annoyed. “See, Anubis, this is where the Boba Fett thing falls apart… Boba was a villain, you know.”

“Ugh, I don’t CARE Horus. Join me as an apprentice! We’ll take down any bounty that stands in our way, ESPECIALLY Ragna the Bloodedge! Me, you, and Aeolo!”

I hear a mutter-like snarl escape Horus, his shoulders slumping a little in exasperation. He turns his head to look at me over his shoulder. “I’m happy here, where you feel like believing that or not. Now unless you’ve got another agenda, I suggest you… Oh, my mistake, you AND Aeolo get out. You’re taking up a seat.”

I stare at Horus, not sure if he’s joking or not. His eyes, as always, read serious, deflating me a little. I guess if Horus doesn’t want to quit this stupid job of his, then he’s missing out. I’ve seen him fight; he’s competent, if not for the fact that he clearly plays too many video games. Not to mention the kid’s too caught up in history and idiotic mythology of old, blind to the spiritual enlightenment that he should be exposing himself to.

3

2012-2013

It saddens me a little to think he’ll never change, but for now, I have to focus on my own goals. With a disheartened look, I get up from my stool, ignoring the black-haired man towering behind me and the hon-est smile Horus shoots in his direction. Instead, I grab my acoustic guitar, which I had left leaning against the counter, and stride towards the door. Aeolo, remaining silent as the wind he floats on, follows suit, not a moment behind.

_____________________________________________________________________That event – the one that convinced me to quit folk singing in taverns (even if it did mean pestering

Horus from time to time) – happened about a year back when I was 21. I returned my guitar to my par-ents, who were thrilled to see the instrument back, and traded me Aeolo’s old Javelance. (What he always used to call his Javelin/Lance hybrid. My parents never wanted more than one of the family heirlooms out of their possession at one time.) Aeolo, naturally, was perfectly fine with the idea, seeing as I could avenge him with the weapon he fought with to the bitter end.

” h e ‘ s m i s s i n g o u t . ” Aeolo’s wispy voice says, making my ears twitch. He floats in circles around my legs as I walk through the mountain-top city of Kagutsuchi, the streets illuminated by the stars and moon above. A few fellow bounty hunters patrolling July’s night air turn their heads towards me, but I have a hard time paying attention. Aeolo’s speech always takes first priority. ” M a y b e h e r e a l l y i s a c o w a r d ? “

“Come on, Aeolo, there’s a difference between being a coward and just not giving a s**t. Horus is just mean.” I snarl. “Coming to this town always reminds me of him… But this is no time to be distracted, right? We have a bounty to catch!”

” y e s . r a g n a t h e b l o o d e d g e . r u m o r h a s i t h e w a s s p o t t e d h e r e .”“Great…” I clench my fist as I walk. Ragna the Bloodedge… that name still haunts me, and I know it still

haunts Aeolo as well. That’s the reason he’s still here by my-“HEY YOU! HYENA BOY!”My eyes and ears twitch as I hear the gravelly voice behind me. Oh yes, I know that voice all too well. I

glance over my shoulder to face my expectations: A tall man in his 20s, his black hair spiked and wild from all the time he spends asleep in dumpsters around town. His black jacket and thick black shirt cover his very masculine upper body and slender waist. His legs are covered completely by a black hakama, which covered most of his black, steel-toed boots.

If his fist didn’t strike you first, his face would – One red eye, one green eye, both tarnished by dark circles that stuck out even more on his pale skin. At the moment (though, let’s face it, usually) his lips were twisted upwards in a snarl, looking like the human version of a junkyard dog on a leash. The end of his chain is no-doubt planted at a bar somewhere. Probably Horus’s.

I know a lot more than I want to about this man: He is a raging alcoholic, emphasis on raging. Consid-ering night has fallen, I do not doubt he is drunk right now. What’s more, his appearance directly mimics Ragna the Bloodedge in its entirety. Whether he is a brother or a clone of some sort, I don’t know.

“Funny how you present yourself right to me, Rawrgna.” I scoff. I notice Rawrgna’s shoulders shake in rage at the comment. “… Hyena boy? Are you trying to insult me with facts?” I growl lightly, letting Raw-rgna catch a glimpse of my sharp teeth. I’m a hyena beastkin, which means I’m part hyena. I have the ears, a full set of sharp teeth, spots on my back and the backs of my arms, and a stumpy tail that my pants cover. I guess it’s not the most glamorous beastkin, not when there’s squirrels, cats, dogs, etc. running around, but when it comes to biting through flesh and bone? You can find no one better.

“SUT UP!” Rawrgna slurs, stumbling a little. “What tha f*** haveya been doin with my buddy Horus, you piece of s**t!?”

I frown. One of Rawrgna’s more unsavory qualities (by which I mean a normal quality) is his dirty mouth. “Nothing. I haven’t seen him in a year, you drunkard. Now go home!”

“F***IN’ LYING B**TARD!” Rawrgna roars, drawing the huge slab of metal he calls a sword. I draw Aeolo’s lance in reaction. “QUIT MESSIN WIT M’FRIEND, ANUBIS! ER ELSE!”

4

Marion High School

I’m a little surprised the drunken fool remembers my name (or alias, anyway), but not surprised enough to ignore his actions. He immediately charges, swinging his sword wildly in my direction and missing almost every swing without me having to do anything. I COULD blame the alcohol… but I prefer to think Rawrgna is just a complete bumbling idiot.

The one swing he does manage to aim on the mark, I parry with the lance. Unfortunately, Rawrgna has the physical strength advantage, so he pushes down on it until I’m forced backwards. Grk… how annoying. “Fine… if you’re itching for revenge, I’ll be happy to turn you in to the NOL…”

“LIKE H**L YOU’LL TURN ME IN T’THE LIBRARY!” The Library/Librarium, or the Novus Orbis Librari-um (NOL for short) is basically a worldwide police organization that took complete control after the Dark War, which left the entire ground covered in a toxic substance. New Hierarchical Cities were built atop mountains, where the level of the substance was a lot lower. The substance isn’t all bad – it powers magi-cal weapons (Or Ars Magus), which were invented during the Dark War and lead to its victory. Most magi-cal items, however, have now been seized by the NOL to prevent their misuse by the public.

I’m not sure how much of this Rawrgna knows, being that he’s just some imposter of Ragna, but he must know some. Ragna the Bloodedge’s rise to criminal fame is treason against the NOL, going around to different cities and painting the walls red with any soldier that stands in his path before knocking the en-tire building down. That’s essentially like destroying branches of government, to use another old example Horus clued me in on.

Turning Rawrgna in to the NOL would be incredibly ironic… He’s definitely a wrong-doer. The b**tard stole my girlfriend years back. I’ll never forgive that moron!

I glance towards Aeolo, who’s still floating by my side, giving him a quick nod and watching him smirk in response. I turn back to Rawrgna, who charges for his next attack, but it just fades to black for me.

_________________________________________________________It’s always a surreal feeling when Aeolo takes control. I can’t see what’s going on, but I can vaguely feel

my body moving on its own. Sounds have become muffled and foggy, but I can make out screams from Rawrgna and yelling from my own voice, punctuated by the occasional bout of cackling.

You’d think it would be disorienting and unsettling to switch back and forth with Aeolo, but I’ve got-ten used to it. Now-a-days, I just use the moments as a time to think. About myself, about Aeolo, about Ragna…

I’ll never forget the night that my parents performed the ritual that brought Aeolo and I back together. No one but my family would think such a ritual would actually WORK, but I had all the faith in the world that my parents could perform a miracle. They promised me this ritual would bind my brother’s soul to mine, letting him watch over me and guide me through the rest of my life. Even I didn’t expect the ritual to work so well… I guess my prayers paid off.

The power Aeolo possesses is nothing compared to having him with me again. I don’t care if people think I’m crazy – I know he’s there. He wouldn’t be allowing me to use his javelance if he wasn’t.

“. . . r i o l o . . . “Clearly, through all the blurred noises and darkness, I hear Aeolo’s voice murmur my name.” w e h a v e t o s w i t c h b a c k . . . n o w “Wha- Oh crap. That last word echoes through my mind, as Aeolo’s voice tends to do when he’s being

intense, right before I’m flung out of the darkness and right back into the humid, night air of Kagutsuchi. I’m knocked fully back into reality by the sensation of raindrops on my ears and skin… not to mention how soaked I feel already. It’s raining? I didn’t even notice any clouds when this fight started… weird. I blink, trying to get my bearings on the situation and figure out how long it’s been since Aeolo took control.

… Wait, what was that clic- GAH!What the heck was that flash!? Argh, I’m blinded! I stagger backwards, and judging by the second set

of scuffling I hear over mine, I’m guessing Rawrgna is still around as well. While I manage to contain my surprise, Rawrgna prefers to vocalize: “GRAAAH!”

5

2012-2013

“O-Oh my gosh! I-I’M SORRY! I HAVEN’T GOTTEN THE FLASH FIXED!” I hear a distressed female voice ring out quickly in response to Rawrgna. I cautiously open one eye, though I don’t move my hand away from my face. My vision has improved enough to see a red-haired woman holding a very expensive looking camera. I rub my eyes and glance to my left to see Rawrgna still doubled-over. He looks like he has a few injuries on his shoulders and torso, but nothing major. What a shame.

Oh, right, the photographer. “Why do you have your camera out in the rain!?” I growl out, annoyed.“I-I’m sorry! I work for the local news… I thought I saw a fight between Anubis and Ragna the Blood-

edge, so I had to check it out! … But… it’s just an imposter…”Wait, excuse me!? “I AM Anubis!”“A-AH! I-I-I’m sorry sir, I meant him!!” She points to Rawrgna, who seems to have recovered from the

flash by now, but certainly not from his own stupidity.“F*** YOU.” Rawrgna yells back, with all the eloquence of a seasick crocodile. “F***ing flash…! GET

OUT OF HERE!”“Shut up, Rawrgna!” I growl back, a bit out of character, but… well, I’m soaked, still a little disoriented

by the switch back, and my patience is always thin when it comes to the black-clothed drunkard. “Go and crawl in a dumpster before you scare any more poor individuals!”

“MAYBE I WILL!!” Rawrgna retorts, making Aeolo snicker behind me. Rawrgna, truly the master of comebacks.

With that, the seasick crocodile shoots the both of us one final dirty stink-eye before stumbling off into a nearby alley. If I had the patience to keep watching him, maybe I could watch him crawl into a dumpster and fall asleep like I suggested, but I had something better to pay attention to. I turn back to the reporter, who is blushing with embarrassment.

” t h a t p h o t o g r a p h e r s a v e d u s a l o t o f t i m e . ” Aeolo murmurs. ” y o u o u g h t t o t h a n k h e r . “

“Thank you, ma’am.” I parrot. “You saved me a lot of time… Rawrgna might look like the terrorist, but I’ve dealt with him before. He’s not dangerous, just time-consuming…”

The redhead looks up, her cheeks still blushing from embarrassment… I hope. I might be single, but I’m not looking. “O-oh! I see!” She stammers, forcing a smile. “I-I’m happy I could help you, Mr. Anubis!” She bows politely and quickly, before looking back up at me.

“Don’t mention it.” I look up. “This storm is getting pretty bad… You ought to get home, don’t you think?” Aeolo always chided me for being condescending, especially towards women, but she’s younger than me! How am I supposed to act? Honestly.

“Huh?” The lady looks up as well. “Ah, yeah, you’re right… You should find somewhere to stay too!” She points out. I smile sadly… I don’t have a real place to stay, and she seems to know that. I’m a traveling bounty hunter, and traveling from city to city meant traveling from hotel to hotel.

“I’ll figure something out.” I reply simply. She simply nods and turns her back, walking away. I watch her go, camera swinging from around her neck, about to turn and leave myself.

” w a i t f o r i t . . . ” Aeolo grumbles in my ear.“Oh! And Mr. Anubis!” She suddenly turns around. “It was nice to meet you! Maybe we could set-up an

interview sometime?”I blink, glancing at Aeolo, who returns my gaze with a smug smirk. He really is always right. “Maybe.” I

call back. “Nice to meet you too… um…”“Alexandria!” She replies. I blink in surprise; what a fancy name! Aeolo seems to think so too. “… I go by

Alie for short, though!”“Ah! Nice to meet you too, then, Alie!” I smile. I feel more comfortable smiling with the distance be-

tween us; I don’t need to be worried about my teeth. “Be seeing you!”I faintly hear her yell ‘BYE!’ as we part ways. I’m sure that young woman feels so special, knowing that

she’d had a kind meeting with one of the world’s most well-known bounty hunters, but Aeolo knows the

6

Marion High School

truth. Despite my family being somewhat reclusive, Aeolo had taught me all the people-skills I would ever need in this world. The fact is, I act that way to every woman and some men. She’s an accident-prone type, clearly. As long as I forgave her and treated her kindly without coming off as creepy, she would think me as the best man in the world.

That’s how my reputation works. That’s how any bounty hunter’s reputation should work. You get on the good side of as much of the public as you can, and you can cast begin casting judgement. For me, the world is paved in black and white – you’re either a law-abiding citizen, or you’re a law-breaking liar. In this world, there’s no middle ground, and it’s up to me, the other (good) bounty hunters, and the NOL to decide where those lines are drawn.

If I can get the support of the general public, I can do my job consequence free. I plan to clean up this city, and every city I visit afterwards, and kick the punks off the streets. The drug dealers, the assassins, the thieves, the serial killers, the crime-lords… I’ll take down each one of them and turn them in. That’s my job, and it’s one I will do with pride for the rest of my days.

” r i o l o ? ““Yes?”” y o u s a i d r a w r g n a w a s h a r m l e s s . . . j u s t a w a s t e o f t i m e . ““Ah… Don’t be silly. My opinion hasn’t changed of him. If that reporter hadn’t gotten in the way, we

would’ve put him behind bars where that girlfriend-stealing drunkard belongs.”” . . . g o d h e l p a n y o n e w h o s t e a l s y o u r d a t e s , r i o l o . ““Hah. Come on, Aeolo. You of all people should know that god is always on my side.”

7

2012-2013

8

Marion High School

Poetry Is...By: Andie Scott

Writing Contest - Poetry Division - 1st Place

Poetry is horrendous.And that statement is rather contentious,

But you won’t hear me out‘Less I speak with a shout

That poetry’s bland and pretentious!

“But lady!” you cry with a gusto“Even someone like you simply MUST know,

That poetry frees expressionWhether glee or depression,

And leads imagination to grow!”

It might certainly be trueThat you write from your heart’s lovestruck spew

But the ground you exploreHas been covered before

By someone more knowing then you!

“But lady!” You roar, your tone daunting,“You must know, ‘midst your cynical flaunting:

If it’s said from the heart,That’s a good place to start,

It’s emotion that everyone’s wanting!”

Let me say, as a personal creed:Art is strong as its frailest seed.

Everything’s defined ‘strong’By the stinkers it spawns

And poetry has a stale trail indeed.

Tell me, how long has it beenSince you read another “The Raven”?

Or is it all about loveOr messages from above

Or the death of something you’ve been cravin’?

That’s my point, as I tried to show itAnd deep down, I hope you all know it

If you’ve got something to say‘Sides an emotional fray

Only then, can you call yourself “Poet.”

9

2012-2013

Red RibbonsBy: Ema Nelson

Writing Contest - Poetry Division - 2nd Place

The fine silver linePressed down

Finding a strip of redA beautiful ribbon

Parents cluelessOf the ribbons

WrappedAround her arms

Her legsA present waitingTo be unwrappedTo be discovered

To be helpedBut little did they know

Their little girlDied years ago

Crushed by painRuined by remorseFilled with regret

All fixed by the silver line Feeling the only thing left

It was her escapeThe physical pain

Fixed the emotional pain ofHer past

She can’t waitTill the next time

She can fix everythingWith that fine silver

Line

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Marion High School

20/20By: V.D.Writing Contest - Poetry Division - 3rd Place They say hindsight is 20/20.Looking back I guess it really is.When I take off my glasses it’s 20/80.And when I put them back on it’s only 20/25.But when I remember the days we spent together,a makeshift 12:04,it’s crystal clear. And the skin around my thumbs was still there.And I didn’t have this feeling in the pit of my stomachthat feels like a knot waiting to be undone.And I wasn’t staying up until the witching hourstaring at my ceiling thinking of things that never were. I’m not sure why anything still bothers me,because three years is a long time,and two years is also a long time,and although a year and a half isn’t so long,it should suffice. A part of me believes it’ll take as many years as there are shells on the beachor stars in the sky.But by then there will be nothing to worry aboutbecause I’ll be somewhere greater than here. My words will still be etched in the notebooksand the quadratic formula will still be on trig testsand the songs I screamed at the top of my lungs will never fade away.But it takes time for memories like mine to fade away,and it takes time for hair to growand for clothes to wear outand even to get a high school diploma. I’ll get there someday.20/80 to 20/20 may take forever. But I’ll get there.

A Porcelain HeartBy: Leslie Clapp

Mute disposition raises walls between us. In dotted lines our footfalls meet the earth beneath. Our hands begin to fall away;

Reluctant release bid each other perpetual farewell.Unconscious do stop- I dare not dream a moment longer.

A great divorce divides our slumbering masters.

“Pretend it is not thereThough it cannot be hidden.”

Our love dangles beneath the fading glimmer. Uncharted depths cling to the breadth of its absence.Innocence we have shared in guilty passion;Sacredly kept secrets, set hearts at odds.

Recaptured past is but lone burdensome scar.

Lament in mirrors along familiar, stained, hollow-halls.In diminished hushes, my cries cradle a mere-shallow comfort.

Hazel windows close weary from inner-empty, lull sound.Hours devour in this valley of trouble.

Yet pray, let them mean the hope of tomorrow.

Reunited by dawn’s admonition;We find our dissevered entities awakened.

Each time we both do follow different ways, Our shadows cast obscure darkness.

There is no other embrace we see ourselves held in.A void when yours is gone,

For which no worldly thing could replace.So whisper, Beloved, in devote-delicacy to me,

Why do we tempt such unimagined fate more than once?

It was spoken to all without a doubt pervade;Love is not to be moved before it is made.I understand why pain is teacher this time-

By own choice evidently.A bud’s flowering beauty

Should not be unveiled prematurely.

Lean into, oh Porcelain Heart,These words lingering repeated.

Trust that love holds to the rhythm of His planned keeping, not your own.

For whom these words were tirelessly sewn:I should hope your life leads you where you are meant to be.

But before you go, to you I will say one last thing: The place I thought you were meant for,

It would seem was never beside me.

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Marion High School

Sinning & The SaviorBy: Gage Miskimen

The way you look should be a sin.

Tonight, you’re my sin-sation.

When the sun goes dim,

It’s the magic hour, temptations.

Tonight, you’re my sin-sation,

I’ve been looking for you.

It’s the magic hour, temptations.

So tonight, there are no rules.

I’ve been looking for you.

Jumping over hurdles to do so.

So tonight there are no rules.

But it’s still a contest though.

Jumping over hurdles to do so,

To f ind you was where I fell.

But it’s still a contest though,

So you helped me, pulled me out of Hell.

To f ind you was where I fell.

Struggling, pushing away the demons.

So you helped me, pulled me out of Hell,

For whatever angelic reasons.

Struggling, pushing away the demons,

When the sun goes dim.

For whatever angelic reason,

The way you look should be a sin.

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2012-2013

You follow one rhythm.

One drum.Your heart guides you,but the mind saves you.

At times the rhythm slipsand things falter..

but you quickly grasp it againfearing any other alternative.You become accustomed to

the melodic tones of the rhythmIts safe,

its normal.You tend to expect it.

Crave it.

Change.It tips the scale.

One word,with huge meaning.

Everything sways at the mercy of this word.

Fear lurks everywhere.

You arelost,

and you scrambleto find its soothing tones,

once again.Uncertainty takes over, and you fall

endlessly.

Lingering vapors remainof what once

was.The glorious rhythm

that created you,kept you going,kept you sane,

is gone.

Rhythm of LifeBy: Monica Corona

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Marion High School

Hovering out of nowhere you are

swept up into a new rhythm.

Stronger,beats take over

and the nightmaresubsides

into the recess.Vibrant colors

take over,and harmonious

beats, begin.

The rhythm subsides to what it once was.

Your mind graspsthe rays of sun

and your heart comes alive.Warmth encircles you, as you let it

all in.Slightly hesitant,

and unsure

But the rhythm always begins...Again.

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2012-2013

Never Ending PagesBy: Grace Null

Funny how love can have so many twists and turns. When I was a kid, I didn’t expect to get hurt so bad. I didn’t expect to be beaten down to where my strengths became my weaknesses. I guess as I grew up, my walls slowly fell down. Roses were no longer red, only black. The stars in the beautiful night sky were black and cold. Every ounce of energy I once had was drained to the very last drop. My fairytale was to be treated like a princess and one day have a man treat me like a queen. He would spend his every living moment curing my wounds and caressing my thoughts. He wouldn’t hit me because I said something wrong. He wouldn’t watch me kneel on the ground, asking for forgiveness. He certainly wouldn’t make the blood that should be bonding us together, run down off my face. But why does it? The monster that I love, made me bleed. He made me sad and happy at the same time. The feelings that had scared me and to this day, still do. My emotions were all over the place. I would cry when he was gone, yet I’d cry when he was here. He made me feel special and then he’d tear me apart to make me feel like garbage. The one emotion that will stick to my mind forever was that I was weak. I let him run over me like a garbage truck. He never gave me the time of day to let me do what I wanted. It was always about him. I was the stupid one, though. My biggest mistake was letting it be all about him. After all the never ending wars and bloody battles, he’s gone. An angel helped me see that it was no good. The “relationship” was no good and as much as I wanted to deny it, it was true. The relationship was toxic. Every day there was a fight. Every day my beautiful tan skin, got poisoned with a disgusting purple and blue mark. Every day, I suffered. Then my angel came. He made me see the truth, no matter how painful it was. He took me in and gave me something I never experienced. Something that I’ve wanted since I was able to know what it was and what it meant; love. Such a strong feeling and it hit me like a ton of bricks. The heavy emotion felt like ecstasy. Ev-ery flower bloomed. Every coldness that my heart had suffered for three years, was filled with warmness. This feeling gave me hope. But most importantly it gave me life. When I finally had enough, I decided to take action. I didn’t want to live the life in a boxed up cage where I had no one to talk to but him. The monster that seemed like an angel, only to be the enemy had to go. He was holding me back from so many things. From my family, friends and a future. One night, as I was walking the streets of St. Louis, Missouri, I met my angel. His name was Randy. He had the look of a savior. He was the type of guy that I wanted to be with. But how could I have been sure that he wasn’t like him? I did what any girl would do, I asked the question that my mom asked my dad.Are you capable of love? He smiled at me and nodded his head. I still wasn’t sure but something about him had this warm feel-ing inside. It gave me butterflies that were unexplainable. But why was it that Jason never gave me that feel-ing? Only hatefulness and bullets through my heart? This was something I never would understand. Maybe there was something from his past. Maybe he just wasn’t capable of love. Or being loved. I loved him with all my heart and I thought he loved me too. Guess I was wrong. Guess I just guessed. When I finally decided to close the never ending book of hate, he wouldn’t go down without a fight. I came home and he grabbed me with so much force. I screamed in pain but he didn’t seem to care. He did what he usually did, he put on a mask to hide away the pain in his face when he was hurting me. He didn’t want to see the blood of tears shedding from my eyes or the scarce expression on my face. He just wanted to feel like

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Marion High School

he had dominance and he wanted to make me feel small. Dammit, why’d I let him!? But when he’s sweet, he’s the most amazing person on earth. He was the one guy that stood up to me and took blame for his actions. Sure he didn’t care about what he did and sure he didn’t care about me. But something about that made me want more. Jason was and will always be my lover. No matter how much Randy makes me happy or no matter if Jason didn’t truly love me the way I do. I will always love Jason. I’m free, though. No more hatefulness and no more suffering. Jason’s gone and I’ve finally moved on. Randy is here and I’m beginning to start a book that’s worth keeping. A book that I’ll share with my daughter. My beautiful daughter that was born into a world worth accepting her. Olivia Grace is my angel’s name. She’s the sweetest and cutest little girl on the planet. Everything about her makes me smile. To know that I gave birth to a healthy baby girl was the highlight of my life. Olivia is everything to Randy and I. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Even if that means telling her my back story. To let her know the feelings I went through and the pain he caused. Everything. I’m doing this now because my sweet little angel is getting married. I don’t want her to make the mistake I’ve made. The mistake was letting him control me, and no mother wants her child to get hurt. She listened and accepted. That’s all I needed to know. Ross, my daughter’s husband, has taken care of her. Randy and I have moved on with our lives. Our white lake house, sits by the water just waiting for it’s next owner. That next owner is Olivia Grace Symon. The little girl that saved my life. The little girl I called my own. My daughter. The full life that we’ve lived, my husband and I, was a life that I can be proud of. Even Jason was someone that I wouldn’t forget. He may have beaten me down to where my strengths were my weaknesses but that’s what made me stronger. That’s what made me learn. Because of my past, my daughter has finally found the right man to live with her until she can no longer breathe. I’m thankful that my sad past has saved her. Roses are now red instead of black. Stars have lighten the skies once again with their beautiful gold colors. Chapter and chapters of words that couldn’t be left unwritten.The book that was read as a nightmare, has been burned and a new one begun. Now, it’s the new generation’s turn to write their own never ending pages.

19

2012-2013

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Marion High School

SimonBy: Katelynn Chalstrom

Hush, child, close your eyes.

This won’t last for long, dear boy.

Your eyes, my son, they’re hidden in crystal droplets.

Your lips, young one, are cracked and bleeding.

Who has done this to you?

No more pain, my beloved, your beast is gone.

Rest in peace, sweet boy, there is no more fear.

Don’t open your eyes darling, see no more pain.

Take my hand, little angel, I’ll lead you home.

What has done this to you?

The beast has no name, you say?

“It lives within their hearts,

it eats at their souls until only the savage remains.”

The beast, my boy, was you.

Who has fallen for this?

Cry no more, cherished one, the best has not won.

He leaves you, sweet miracle.

Come home, my dear, it’s time for you to go.

23

2012-2013

SkyBy: Dezzi McNamara

The Sky and ground

so close together

seeming to look at me,

watching me,

waiting for the right time

to clasp their hands and create the perfect storm,

the rain washes away the pain

the sadness,

the hurt,

I love you still

even though you have been gone

for four years.

Prayers By: Mikayla Beik

Her life was full of happiness.Her life was full of family.Now she’s digging to find the truth, like a lost child trying to find her parents. Her life is an empty space that no one cares to fill, a balloon without air. She sees the flowers, the birds and the sun. But feels as if they are not really there, a hallucination of the mind.She wishes for her life to be normal again, but she knows wishes don’t come true.She prays for her life to be normal again, but she feels like her prayers never get answered. When, she wishes, will this all end, and she can soar through the darkness into the light, where she will meet her family again. She wants to not be the only one who feels pain, and sorrow, emptiness and being forgotten. Sometimes, she closes her eyes, spreads her arms wide, and imagines that she can fly. Fly away to leave this life behind, where finally her prayers get answered.

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Marion High School

Fear of DarknessBy: Bonnie Burnell

The pain within, drags me beneath the dark holeThat crept and is always right behind me.

I hear the whisper of deathWithin the hole, I see

My future.

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2012-2013

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Marion High School

Goodbye.By: Katelynn Chalstrom

As the stars creep into the black,He cries out:

“Can’t you hear me?Aren’t you listening?”

His tears cascade slowly over his ivory skin,His hand clutches the cold, comforting blade.

“Save me,” he pleads.“Come help me!”

The stars watch him silently;A thousand eyes pleading.

“Stay,” they seem to whisper,“Stay.”

Without a sound the blade finds its mark.Without a sound he collapses limply into the grass.

No more words, No more pleas.

The stars cry out softly,Winking in and out of sight as they watch him bleed.

“No more is saved,” they breathe,“No one is saved.”

The Porcelain GirlBy: Kacey Jones

I died on November 13th, 2006. My name was Nicole Carter. I was a good student. Never missed a class. Got Honor Roll every quarter. I was a good girl. I never did any-thing to rebel. I never did drugs. I listened to my parents. I was the perfect daughter. Until one day, I got sick of the routine. I had just gotten home from Jackson High School, and was on my way to do my homework when my father, Nicholas, called to me to enter the study. It was unusual that my father would be home so early. Intrigued, I approached slowly. I walked in to find him sitting in his swivel chair. His head was square, his fluffy chestnut mane perfectly windswept. Thin glasses lay before his sparkling cerulean eyes. He had a small goatee, which framed his tender smile. He wore a verdant sweater over a periwinkle dress shirt with dun slacks. His voice always carried an air of authority, yet a hint of warmth that I always felt embracing and caressing me. Yet, this time was different, for the warmth had disappeared, the tender smile was twisted into an uncharacteristic frown. He slammed down the receiver on the landline. Aparrently, he’d just received a bad phone call. “What’s wrong, Daddy?” I’d never gotten in trouble before, and had no reason to ex-pect it now. He glared at me with accusing eyes that seemed to say you know damn well what’s wrong. “That was your principal,” he began, “he says he overheard your friends, Valerie and Bethany, talking about how you were pregnant!” His accusation slammed into me, a wall of cement bricks. How could he think such a thing? His face turned red. As he rose from his chair, he bellowed, “I KNEW THAT ANTHO-NY WAS NO GOOD! I TOLD YOU HE’D ONLY WEIGH YOU DOWN AND DRAG YOU DOWN WITH HIM! I TOLD YOU NOT TO SEE HIM ANYMORE, AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!” His eyes burned with seething hatred. “MAYBE THE PRINICPAL SHOULDN’T BELIEVE EVERYTHING HE HEARS! ANTHONY IS TOO SHY TO KISS ME! THERE’S NO WAY HE’D GO THAT FAR!” “SO NOW YOU’RE DEFENDING HIM?” “WELL, I CAN’T LET YOU BLAME HIM FOR SOMETHING THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN! HELL, I’M ON MY PERIOD RIGHT NOW! I’M NOT PREGNANT!” He opened his mouth to argue more, but I beat him to the punch, “You don’t know anything!” I ran out of the room crying. I’d spent all my life trying to be the perfect daughter. I pushed myself to near insanity to be the best student, the perfect little an-gel. I did everything my father wanted, and even after all that, he still didn’t trust me, still didn’t respect me. It was all a waste of time. I’d never be Melissa. I could never be as great as his golden child. What was the point? Why waste my energy? Why even try? I tried to be myself, and my dad despised it, so I tried to be his perfect angel, and he didn’t trust me. He wasn’t happy no matter who I was or pretended to be, so why should I care anymore? That’s when I decided to finally drop the crap. I locked myself in my room, and sobbed into my pillow. I tried so hard to make him proud, and even after all the years I’d been his perfect daughter, he wasn’t proud. He didn’t respect me, and I couldn’t let that go unpunished. If he could see through my lie and see who I really was, there was no point in pretending anymore. All my life, I’d suppressed myself and made myself work to near exhaustion. He didn’t care, so why

27

2012-2013

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Marion High Schoolshould I? I called up Anthony to tell him what happened. He was as shocked as I was. But he didn’t get upset. Even after that horrible accusation, and the fact that his father would probably be called soon, he still wasn’t upset. I started to wonder if I even liked Anthony, or if I’d made myself like him because Dad had approved of him so long ago. Nicholas banged on my door, dissatisfied that his rant had been interrupted. HE shouted threats through the door which the porcelain me would have buckled under. But I didn’t care about what he thought of me anymore. He already didn’t trust me. I listened as he grounded me for one week. Two weeks. Three. By the time I’d been grounded for three months, he’d given up with threats and had called my mother, Susan, at work. “Yes, three months. No, she won’t come out. Yes, I called Mike, and he said Ant-ony was grounded for two weeks. I still say Mike is soft.” I didn’t like how he was sud-denly talking about his best friend. Some hours later, Susan came home and pounded up the stairs. She’d always been the voice of authority in the household. No one disobeyed her wishes. She nearly bashed down the door as she knocked. She tried threats and reasoning to get me out into the hallway where she could talk to me, but I knew she just wanted to yell at me. She probably didn’t trust me either. She tried everything, she gave demands and she made threats, but I didn’t budge. I wasn’t going to bow to her anymore. The porcelain child was shattered, and the true child had emerged, blinking it’s eyes as it stepped into the light for the first time. The next day I confronted Valerie and Bethany about the deal. Apparently, they’d heard it from Heather. I should have known. She’d always had it out for me. How could I not expect her to try and ruin my life? In second hour, I saw Anthony. As Mr. Wimble-ton droned on about hypotenuses and equations, I studied Anthony. Sure, he was sweet, and moderately attractive, but I realized, he was a better match for my doppelganger, not for me. Halfway through the period, I texted him it was over. I didn’t love him. It had been a self-induced hallucination. It hadn’t been real. He tried to catch me after class, but I told him it was over between us. I’d often heard about a man who stood outside the KwikStop and bought booze for teens. I decided I needed something to calm my nerves, and brought the man my ten dollars. I took a swig of the brown liquid and in a moment all my troubles evanesced. For one inebriated moment, all was blissful, but slowly, the world I hated began to claw it’s way back into my subconscious. Before it could though, I took another swig to banish the devil’s spell from my mind. Some guys nearby noticed me and offered me dope. The porcelain me would have run away, but she was gone. All that was left was this hollow void, and it needed to be filled. They said the booze wouldn’t last forever. I knew they were right, with the dope; I’d be safe for hours before needing another puff. I took them up on their offer. As soon as my healing poison ran out, I lit a doobie. It worked way better than the liquor. Everything seemed so much clearer. The world didn’t seem to be such a bad place. I didn’t want to go home just yet so I went out to a club. I just needed to wind down, and Neon Shadow was the perfect place to do it. I met some girls who got me to relax. I took chances I never would have taken before. I recognized some of the girls there were my classmates doing blow and hump-ing strangers. For the first time, I was one of them. For once, I was home. I met some guy, who’s name I never got. We danced for about five seconds before we started mak-ing out. I’d never felt so alive, so free. For once, I was me. I didn’t get home until after curfew smelling of sex and booze, half drunk, half high. Nick and Susan bombarded me with angst and rage. Another month grounded,

big whoop. I shrugged them off and went to lie down. The next morning the liquor pun-ished me, but it was still worth it. Susan berated me again when I came down the stairs. Told me I was wearing too much make-up and my clothes were too skimpy. I decided to retaliate and told her she needed some make-up to cover her wrinkles and poked at her thinning hairline. I slept right through Mr. Wimbleton’s lecture, and got a text from that guy from the club. Said he was interested. Decided to give him a chance. Said ‘yes’ to a date. I got caught. Detention. Didn’t care. Ate lunch, friends called me a slut. I called them the ‘‘c’’ word. Ate lunch with the cool kids. They welcomed me, and my transformation. Told them how much I hated Nick. They said Susan was a bitch. Got in a fight in third hour. I got suspended. Big deal. Who cared? Lit up a doobie. On the way home, got a tat. Nicky and Susie yelled at me till they were purple in the face. I laughed at them. Grounded for six months. Threats of military school. Comeback: Suicide. They stopped arguing. Four months later, I partied every night. I always had a beer or dope in my hand. I was the queen of the world. No one could touch me. Nicky and Susie gave up on me. My teachers stopped pestering me. My old friends finally left me alone. I had new friends. Club guy and I were an item, finally learned his name was Ryan. Didn’t care. Met his parents. They hated me, told them to go fuck themselves. Everyone finally respected me and cared about what I had to say. Lost my virginity. Not by Ryan. Some guy. Used protection. “Lost it” again with Ryan. No protection. I got drunk one night, woke up with a new tat in a private place. Didn’t care. I was invincible. God himself envied my life. Then, it all came crashing down. I woke up one morning and threw up, like always. I looked at my calendar on my way to the bathroom. Stopped and went back to check it again. April 13th. I’d missed my period. It was three days late. I realized something was wrong. Called up Ryan, he wasn’t surprised. Yelled at him when he started laughing. I was pregnant, and if I was going down, I was taking him with me. I got dressed and decided to play it cool. Pretend nothing was wrong. Nicky and Susie no longer believed I had been pregnant with An-thony’s child. They’d apologized for it a thousand times, far too late. Like always, they avoided any eye contact, tried to not even look in my direction. I knew they feared me. I was stronger than Melissa now. They had to respect me. I didn’t give them any choice. Looked through my wallet. Not enough money for beer or MJ. Decided I’d ask Karen for money. Drove up to the school, she wouldn’t lone me any. Called her a slut. Found Lisa, same response. Slut. Miranda said I still owed her fifty bucks. Slut. Heather wouldn’t help. Major slut. Rebecca: slut. Emily: slut. Michelle: slut. Amanda: slut. No body would lone me the money. Said I wouldn’t pay them back. Said they couldn’t trust me anymore. Called up Ryan, he wouldn’t pick up the phone. Went over to his house during second hour, he wasn’t there, went to his school, his car wasn’t in the parking lot. Found out he’d been sent to Jouvie. Great. Had a weird craving for Sardines and peanut butter. Kid had strange taste. Prayed that such a vulgar appetite belonged to a boy. Tried to steal some beer, got arrested. Susie wouldn’t bail me out. Called her a slut. Spent three days in the slammer. Met some new friends. Maggie wouldn’t lone me money. Slut. Finally, Ryan got word and asked Rachel, his “mom”, to bail me out for him. She still didn’t like me. I felt the same way. Finally got home, yelled at Susie and Nicky. Made ‘em cry. Good. They deserved it. Threw grandma’s urn. Kicked the ashes. Locked myself in my room again. Started cutting myself.

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2012-2013

Sick FutureBy: Alex Estes

Is this the Earth’s curse?

To be filled with getters not givers and sinners not winners?

To be populated with ones who only make the world worse?

They’re all just kidders.

Liars, lying for their satisfaction,

Or just naive to their fib filled chitters.

We are all headed in the wrong direction.

Although its too late to turn around,

Earth needs instant correction.

If they’re so proud of the future they’ve found,

Then why are they so quick to wish for more?

Why, when this sick future’s so sick with their crowd?

Why are they so convinced this all such a bore?

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You Taught Me How To WaltzBy: B.J. Dunbar

I remember when I was youngStanding on your feet,How happy I must have beenLooking up at your smiling face.

We would dance around the floors, To a song called the Waltz.

I remember being sad, when the song came to a halt.

I was called a daddy’s girl, From my mother And my grandfather named Earl. Nothing could separate us,Nothing in the world.

Now that I’m here,Older and strong,I can help with mom, while you’re gone.

I often think of you,And the things we used to do, While I can still smell your “little old man cologne,”Lingering in the hall.

No matter where you go,Or how old I get,I’m still your little girl,Who remembers the dayYou taught me how to Waltz.

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2012-2013

Something to Cry AboutBy: Savannah Guyer

Tears slip down my cheeks,

A tiny diamond-shaped capsule full of regret.

Years stretch between us.

This is not the price I should pay.

Should’ve embraced the invisible wall holding me in my place.

Should have kept the curiosity at bay.

My fall from grace a little too hard,

Leaving with new bruises to wear.

I am left broken, vulnerable, scarred.

I will never shake; never dare to even whisper the truth.

In silence, I suffer,

The secret eating away at my youth.

In a single graceful dance, the tears sweep down my chin,

forgotten again.

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Marion High School

Li fe is a Beauti ful StruggleBy: Leslie Clapp

A story that begins to unravel the moment we breathe life, and left yet still after our last. How we live leaves an impact that outlasts our numbered days;Like a written work that outlasts the physical life of its author.

We are handed a pen and told to write;It’s during our most difficult struggles that the words we endeavor to compose

Come out utterly and altogether antithetical of what we envision.Our hand does not speak a symphony orchestrated to create a masterpiece,But rather a dross of convoluted fragments and disconnected thoughts.

We could describe life the same;We expect perfection, only to fall discouragingly short of our calculated reality.

We feel defeated by the world.The grace we have to offer is stripped slowly from our soul,

Days where all we wear is an expression that disguises the true emotions that lie beneath.Our inner voice silenced by our timid heart, though it longs to be set free-

Allowed to spill the secrets that lay written inside.There is a part of us no one ever sees, a secret sanctuary.Here, our feelings are allowed to fall as gentle raindrops,

Flowing as an infamous spring, rendezvousing with our dreams. A haven, a refuge where we are able to capture and purify our thoughts.

Here, dawn rides in on the silken wings of the sun, its spirited rays penetrating through our closed curtains.

A soft kiss to greet us with longing, anticipation, and possibilities.Its tender compassion caressing our heart with the very truth,

That our struggle artfully embodies beauty.The epiphany.

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2012-2013

The UnitedBy: Preston Bowers

We Lie Awake In Our DreamsWe Live Like It’s The Last DayWe Burn Everyone With UsWe Can’t Do This One On Our OwnWe Need The Help Of Time

We Break The Chains On The WallWe Burst Out Of This World To Find Our Heart In The Center Of The Abyss

We Fight To Get It But Always FallingWe Run As Far As We Can But Can’t Escape It

We Get Locked Back Up Without Our Hearts Lost Forever

We Live Our Lives One Day At A TimeWe Look At Things Like They Are NothingWe Look At Each Other With DisgustWe’d Trade Everything For Just Another Day To LiveWe Run From Our Problems Trying To Escape

We Break Away And RunWe Know We Can’t Get Far But We’ll Die Trying

We Will Work Together To Put Up A FightWe Will Not Stop Fighting Until We Die We Will Win No Matter What The Cost Is

We Will Make Our Big EscapeWe Will All Be Free For Once In Our LivesWe Will Start Over Again And Make It Through ThisWe Will Reforge This World To Our Liking And Stop Anyone Who Tries To Come Between UsWe Together Can Do Anything We Want

We Will Break Whoever Stands In Our WayWe Will Punish The Evil

We Will Make This Evil LeaveWe Won’t Take It Anymore

We Have Had Enough

We Will Believe What We Want We Will Have Full ControlWe Will Have PeaceWe Will Have LoveBut Most Of AllWe Will Always Have Each Other

We Are The FallenWe Are The CapturedWe Are The Tortured

We Are ScaredBut Together

We Are...The United

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Marion High School

HiddenBy: Savannah Guyer

Silent against the backdrop,

She sits cowering from the spotlight.

You would never guess that the

Best View

Is the one hidden from your eyes.

But sometimes things are better left unseen,

Left Untouched,

Left Empty.

To keep the beauty masked is the best thing.

Save the innocence,

The pure quality,

Left white from the foreign sun.

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2012-2013

Analog 3By: Gage Miskimen

Can you meet me by the lake?I know we just met,

I mean, I just said “Hi”But I wanna take you

And skinny-dip and shit

Meet me at the park around tenBring your bitches

And I’mma bring my friends.If you need a ride,

I can peg you on my BMX.

Meet me in your room.We got a lot to catch up on.

Like,What’s your name?

What’s your favorite color?What’s your favorite dinosaur?

Mine’s a T-rex.

I promise we’ll have a good time.A great time;

I brought snacks,Doritos and Snickers and shit.If I’m not there by ten, just call.

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Marion High School

MusicBy: Sarah Mork

Black ink

guides the melody.

Soft lullaby

singing to my soul.

In this moment

immersed in the movement

I am reborn.

The darkness bows

to the Savior I sing to.

Death dies

ashes in the wind

brokenness is mended.

In these tears

i become whole.

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2012-2013

The JungleBy: Makayla Beik

The jungle. The many noises that you hear in your nightmares. But here, they have come to life. You step

on anything, and everything, seeing nothing in your way. You scramble over a fallen tree, and swear something

is chasing you. You hear leaves and twigs crackle and snap as the thing behind you gets closer. Your breathing

is ragged and shallow, and sweat topples off your face, drenching your jacket. With your macheti, you whack

branches out of your way and dodge to your right. In the eerie darkness, you fumble with a flashlight as you’re

sprinting, not noticing the branch strayed across the ground. You trip and tumble over it, and soon the thing is

on top of you, growling like a hungry bear. It bares its white, gleaming teeth, and seems to smile at your terri-

fied face. You know the end is coming, so you close your eyes and remember, and when your eyes open, the last

thing you see is a flash of black and orange.

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Marion High School

Fall of SanityBy: Sarah Mork

Life unfolded like fragments of a dream. They were passing moments in a fading story. Every few weeks she’d climb a little higher on her rope, then the day would fall away and she’d be back at the bottom, hanging by the knot of her stress. If one were to look objectively, the rope shouldn’t have existed, as she came from as good a home as any, she was considered well rounded as a person, loved by those close to her, and lived in a typical suburban house that even had a white picket fence dotted with flowers. But cracks tend to hide beneath the surface, and hers only became apparent in the darkness, as she lie in bed alone… …They told her not to burn the candle at both ends, that her petite body couldn’t handle nineteen hour days, but complaints fell on deaf ears. At her core she knew she couldn’t manage the life she was leading, but her desire for perfection pushed harder than any forgotten advice. From her perch in bed she glanced at the clock, it was nearing one, and she hadn’t even cracked the spine of her psychology textbook. Her hips and knees ached from practice; and the uniform on her desk chair seemed to mock her, her nametag glinting in the light. She sighed in resentment and settled in for the long night ahead, practice, work, and now the mountain of homework before her, she’d begun to forget what rest felt like. They pushed her to slow down and relax, but their pride in her accomplishments overrode the message and continued the auction. She sold sleep for aced tests and perfect papers, selling pieces of herself were worth the results… …Peeking out of the hole from the ground slipping beneath her feet, she’d become aware of something. He hadn’t kissed her the same. His kisses, once affectionate, now seemed forced, as if they were quick obligations. He preferred to be with his friends over her, and it punctured an expanding hole in her heart. Staring into the mirror in her bedroom she pinched the imaginary fat on muscular legs. It had to be her. There were angry scarlet marks on her stomach from the fat she had grasped in anger. It was her. She was wrong. At dinner that night she began the journey of saying no. Two weeks later she had it down to a science, 250 calories a day made her dizzy, made the world shake, but it was less she’d have to work off that night. She was one step closer to perfect, but his kisses still weren’t the same… …It was perpetually twilight, the threat of darkness looming. A body swung from the branches above, graded papers lay scattered on the grass, the As emblazoned in blood, stark on the pure page. She screamed silence at the sight and turned to run. The bare trees around her stuck out sharply in the descending darkness as rain began to cascade and drench her torn white dress. She struggled as the earth became mud and her legs seemed to melt away, at last she fell into the mess allowing the mud and rain to sink her useless body. As salty tears stained the rain, the storm thundered in the distance, “Failure.” She woke up paralyzed with fear, the sheets clinging to her sweat. The house was encased in black and the only noise was the soft snoring of the dog at her feet. Yet the silence was deafening, all her fears and failures swept in and nestled in her ear, whispering her worthlessness. And she lie trembling, powerless to their assault as rolling tears dampened the pillow, morning was still hours away… …Driving home from work the darkness beckoned, the trees cackling in the breeze. Despite the freezing tem-perature, and ice clinging to the edges of her car, she had the windows down. She felt the frigid wind awakened her, alerted her senses, and she found comfort in her shivering because it meant she was real. As she drove the drop off beside the road got steeper, there was no shoulder to shield drivers on the abandoned winding road in the night. However, she knew the route well, knew when she was nearing the steepest part of the drop. The trees stretched open limbs from the depths below, waving their arms in grim welcoming. With the wind whipping her face she didn’t breathe deeper or even blink an extra time. She simply unbuckled the seatbelt, let her eyes glaze over the turn with neon arrows pointing left, pushed the gas down and turned hard to the right. Rest…

41

2012-2013