Empyrean

2014-2015

Hawthorne High School Literary Magazine

Empyrean:[em-puh-ree-uh n, -pahy-, em-pir-ee-uh n, -pahy-ree-]

Word Originnoun1. supposed by the ancients to contain the pure ele-ment of light or fire.

1

2015

Creative Writing Club Members

Nadia Barouk Olivia Branwell Christian Castillo Fausto Dominguez Alli Getchell Maya Helwani Ashley Hidalgo Fazli Hida Chris Hulmes Raiya Isaac Victoria Jungerman Amanda Kearny Danielle Maggiorie Bilal Meshanni Nina Nadirashvili Kelly Nelson Julian Parra Abby Provencher Justin Rodrigues Phillip Rodrigues Frances Rodriguez Skyler Russo-Wilson Kaylee Seiders Evan Voss David Zheng

Creative Writing Club Advisor: Theresa DiGeronimo

Cover Photograph: Aizabel Arabian

Production Design and Layout: Tyler Mooney and Kaylee Seiders

Table of Contents

2015 2015The ButcherNadia Barouk 3

The Theory of BordersNadia Barouk 3

The Kiss of DeathChristian Castillo 4 Not NowMaya Helwani 5

L’ inattenduaAshley Hidalgo 6 The Beautiful TruthVictoria Jungermann 9

Stars Blitz (Part 1)Victoria Jungermann &Justin Rodgrigues 10 The Suicide King-Prologue Danielle Maggiore 12

Writing is My EscapeDanielle Maggiore 12

The Failed Reformation of 13DesdemonaDanielle Maggiore

HelloNina Nadirashvilli 15 Welcome to ParadiseJulian Parra 16

Wonders of a Winter Storm 18Julian Parra

The Brain GameJustin Rodrigues 19

WindowPhillip Rodrigues 20

The Evil Stone 21David Zheng

Aknowledgements 22 2

The Butcher

By: Nadia Barouk

The town’s people never really saw the butcher, but his presence was certainly there.At night a leech, and in the morning he was dressed in his best attire.

He looked over pedestrians from balconies.He lurked in narrow alleys, wide highways, and streets.

He hid in pavement cracks, in shadows left by street lamps.He sat with families at dinner.He walked their kids to school.

Uninvited and unexpected, he still made his way into our homes.As a picture in a student’s textbook.

As news on our television sets and radios. As gigantic portraits in museums, and flyers spread around our streets.

Through our telephone calls and messages.The stain of his fingerprint imprinted on our letters.

And if you listened closely, you could hear his laughter between the lines of our national anthem.

His name was a tale of horror that permeated like an illness among us.Thou shall not speak badly of the butcher.Thou shall not think badly of the butcher.

All hail the butcher.All hail death.

The Theory of Borders Nadia Barouk

And it’s the sun that sets at the curvature of her hips.She lies on her right, with one hand dangling off one side of the bed.

Her palm resembling a battle ground, and it was in-between her fingers that shadow hid from light.

Slowly moving her fingers, she attempted to manipulate the borders that separated light and shadow.

After all, borders are but a suggestion.Then slowly she bent her wrist… admiring the femininity that came with a simple yet under-

mined gesture. She drove me crazy with the way she arched her back, or the way her chest rose when she took

too deep of a breath.I could tell by the residue of a smile left on her lips that she was dancing in her head. 3

The Kiss of Death

By Christian Castillo

Leather on gravel waking to my next love

His face, ashen, looking above

Out of the window a fallen dove

I feel for his pulse or lack thereof

“I’m ready”

Thick curls my hair of black

Romeo shaking cardiac

Breathe black smoke and make him hack

Walk away going clack, clack, clack

“Take me”

Golden fangs and lips of red

Final moment of his dread

On the bed he bled and bled

Another capture for the dead 4

Not NowBy Maya Helwani

I hear the noise,I see the people.I try to find a way,Though my attempts are feeble.

Eyes cast low,Head down.I cannot see you.Not now.

For if I do,I will become weakMy footsteps will falter.It will be your comfort I seek.

I have never said hello,So how can I feel this?Though when I am alone,It is you that I miss.

At last, I look up.My eyes find yours instantly.My heartbeat is rushed.Though you never do notice me. 5

L’inattenduBy Ashley Hidalgo

It was that night. Of course it was that night. Of course it would be the night of the anniversary of my grandmother’s death.

~~~

That morning, my day was pretty mundane. My alarm woke me up at 7:30 to get ready and be at my excruciatingly boring job at AllState, the insurance company. Let me tell you, sitting in an all white cubical from nine to five was not what I had planned in life. Oh no. I was going to be a therapist. I was going to make a difference and help people with their issues and fix them. That’s what I was. A fixer. But somehow I got stuck working this dead-end job for the past six years. “Hey Janice,” Romina, the beautiful bombshell front-desk secretary greeted me as I walked into the large office building smack dab in the middle of New York City. “Good morning Romina. Got any new office stories to get me through the day?” Romina laughed and pretended to think. “Hmm...well, Rob the creepy tech guy is back. Oh! And I hear the bagels in the break room are actually fresh today, but that could just be a rumor.” I thanked her with a smile and wished her a good day. Out of everyone in this dump, Romina always managed to make me smile. I quickly made a beeline toward the break room to see if that bagel thing was a rumor or not. On my way there, I thought I saw a shadow lurking out of the corner of my eye. What in the world? I made my way over to where I thought I saw the figure, but there was nothing. Okay then...must’ve just been my imagination. I guess. I con-tinued back to the break room. When I got there I was surprised to find that the bagel rumor was true. “Um, excuse me. Hi. Good morning. If you could just let me pass that’d be great. Thanks.” I fought my way through the hoard of people crowding the tiny space. There were at least 35 people in a 20-maximum area. Finally, I got to the Dunkin’ Donuts setup of bagels, donuts, and box of Joe only to find everything was gone already. Great. Just perfect. “Hey, pretty lady, you know you’d be much cuter with a smile on your face,” Rob the creepy tech guy said to me. “Yeah, well, you’d have a girlfriend if you weren’t such a jerk towards women. Don’t speak to me that way Rob. I’ve told you this countless times already,” I respond-ed, getting more aggravated as I talked. I didn’t wait for a comment getting more aggra-vated as I talked. I didn’t wait for a comment back and briskly walked out of the break room to head to my cubicle. 6

Once there, I settled down in my chair and logged into my computer, which I’m convinced has been here since 1995. I put my headset on and quickly got to work—call-ing . I had, what I believed to be the dullest job in the whole company. Every call I made consisted of: “Hello, this is Janice Bookholt from AllState Insurance Company. I am calling to see if (insert name of nice, unsuspecting, not-an-actual-customer customer) would like to hear about our newest deal?” Responses to my carefully practiced speech usually consisted of “Who is this?” “How did you get my number?” “Take me off your list.” Or, the ever so lovely, “MOOOOOM!!! SOME LADY IS ON THE PHONE!!!.” Wonderful.

~~~

The clock read 4:59 p.m. as I counted down the seconds to freedom. I began to logout of my computer and put my necessities into my purse. The clock struck 5:00 p.m. and it became absolute pandemonium in the office. Everyone immediately ran towards the front, trying to escape into the weekend. I made my way to the front, following the hoard-like procession of people, bid-ding a few stragglers good night. “Good night, Janice,” Romina called out to me as I passed her desk. “Oh! Good night Romina. I thought you already left. Aren’t you usually gone around 3:30 to pick up your son from daycare?” I replied, shocked to see her. “Yeah, usually but my friend offered to pick him up since I still had a lot of work to do. I have to run though. I have a special occasion tonight. Be safe going home; there are a lot of wackos out there,” she said. Romina was the sweetest, and always cared for others. It was nice to have her in the office. I left the building and flagged down a cab. After about five minutes, I finally got one to stop. “Where to Miss?” the cabbie asked me with an undetectable accent. “82 Canal Street please.” I got on my phone checking out my Facebook feed. Seeing that it primarily con-sisted of old high school friends and their families, I turned it off and rested my eyes. “Here you are Miss. That’ll be $25.” I gave the man the money and quickly got out. I speed walked towards my build-ing and tapped in my key code. Once in the foyer, I checked my mailbox before going to the elevator. Junk mail, junk mail, junk mail...oh. A postcard from my mom. I stepped into the elevator nd read the back of it. “Missing you from Aruba! See you soon xox Mom&Dad.” Retirement was treating them well. I got onto my floor and made my way over to my door. 7

I walked in and made sure to lock the door behind me, Romina’s warning in the back of my mind.

~~~Finally, I was ready to hit the sack for the night after finishing up my dinner for one. I zoomed around my apartment, cleaning up any messes I forgot so that I wouldn’t have to worry about it for a while. I made my way over to my bedroom and proceeded to lay out my clothes for the next day and put on my PJs. I grabbed my book off my bedside table and settled into my queen-sized bed. Suddenly I heard a knock on my bedroom door. That’s really weird. How is someone knocking on my bedroom door; I locked the outer door to the hallway. The monoto-nous knocking continued, a steady thump, that forced me back underneath my duvet. But it continued. Grabbing the pepper spray I kept in my bedside table, I slowly made my way over to the door. I knelt down and looked under the door to try to assess what, or who, was there. What? There’s no shadow...how…? I slowly got up and backed away a bit, the knocking still the same. I took a deep breath, held up the spray and turned the knob.“Oh my goodness Romina! You nearly gave me a heart attack. How did you even get inside my home? Never mind. Is everything okay?” I asked her, tossing aside the spray. She was beautifully dressed, wearing all black, but when I really looked at her I noticed a strange look in her eye.“Yes, I am okay,” she said in a lifeless voice, “I was just stopping by for a moment. I told you I had a special occasion tonight. You’re it. Good-bye.” Romina raised something, but before I could see it, my vision went black.

~~~

I opened my eyes and slowly regained consciousness. I began to realize that I had no idea where I was. I looked down and noticed I was lying on an all white bed, and the small room was completely white. Suddenly, a door appeared out of nowhere and was opened. I couldn’t believe who walked through it. “Grammy?” I asked confused, seeing my grandmother, who died two years ago. I must be hallucinating or something. “Hi sweetie! Oh, don’t worry this happened to me too. That Grim Reaper sure is tricky with that friendly personality and winning smile isn’t she? Well regardless, wel-come home dear.”

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The Beautiful TruthBy: Victoria Jungermann

Are you normal? If you said yes, you’re wrong. No one is normal. If you think you are perfect, you’re

still wrong. If you think you have no flaws… I think you get the picture. No one is perfect or normal. We all have a flaw that others make fun of. Some

may say that you’re weird, ugly, or you don’t belong. Many will get the wrong image and get upset. I think

you shouldn’t. I say take it as a compliment. When someone makes fun of you say, “I hear what you said, but I will not be offended.” Don’t ever think

what people say about you is bad. They only do that to mask their own pain. They have flaws, and we do

too. Don’t think of your flaw as being something that people can make fun of. Look in the mirror and always remember you are beautiful. Show your flaws and never mind what those will think. It’s not weird; it’s part of life. If people make fun of you, that’s their problem. Don’t ever think you need to change who you are. Everyone is different but that’s what makes

everyone wonderful because that’s…The Beautiful Truth.

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Star Blitz Pre(Part 1)

Victoria Jungermann & Justin RodriguesWelcome to the school of Echo Blink a school for special kids, by that I mean Magical. Everyone has a special power of at least one element, so in ways everyone is Unique, from having the power of Lava to being able to create new plant life. Our story begins with the young Roxy Py-thon, a Mage in the ways of gemstones, getting ready to go to her next class.“Yo Roxy!” Kit Magma said.“Hey Kit. What’s up?”“You will never guess what is happening!!”“What?”“The Star Blitz Pre is coming!” Kit said excitedly. The Star Blitz Pre is a race with a team of four, a hover craft of the teams own design, and a name. It’s a race like no other. Every year the tracks change. The winners get the medals of the first champion Echo Blink. It has always been Roxy’s dream to race, but every year she can’t due to injury.“Why are you so excited? You hate sports.”“I have two reasons to be excited.”“Ok, but can you hurry? I’ve got to get to Magicology,” Roxy said.“One: The cute guys that are racing. Two: You qualified to race this year because you didn’t get injured!” Then the bell rang.“Sorry Kit. As much as want to enter, I don’t have a team,” Roxy said sadly.“Ok, Rox. Hey how is my magma level?” Kit asked, fixing her hair. Kit has the power of magma and has one little flaw: if she passes her magma levels, her powers go haywire.“You’re fine. Later,” Roxy said, leaving her locker. Later at study hall Roxy was drawing a design for her dream ship for the Star Blitz. The only people at her table were her friends Kit and Arnold Bakery, a cooking magician, who had also recently, broken his leg. Then the champion of The Star Blitz for three years running, Vlad Minus, came over to Roxy’s table. “Hello Miss Roxy. Whatcha doodling?” Vlad said in a flirty voice. Go away Vlad. I’m busy,” Roxy said, sounding very annoyed.

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“Come on Roxy. You know you like me.” Roxy ignored him. Then his two minions, Bob Life and Tony Skate, along with his sister Sylvia came by.“Vlad, leave her alone. We have to work a plan for the race remem-ber?” Sylvia said.“I know Syl, but I wanted to ask Miss Roxy if she wanted to be part of the team,” Vlad said.“Umm, bro, we have the max amount needed. She can’t join.”“I’ll make room. BOB YOUR OFF THE TEAM!” Vlad yelled. Bob sighed and walked away.“I would rather kiss a cactus,” Roxy said without looking at Vlad.“Ugh, fine. BOB YOUR BACK ON THE TEAM! Vlad yelled. “Whatever, Roxy. I bet if you had a team they wouldn’t be very good either. You would probably crash at the first track.” That was the breaking point for Roxy. She stood her ground. “Oh yeah? Well who says I won’t have a team? I can make one before the deadline tomorrow,” Roxy told him off.“Really? I’d like to see you try. Besides who you gonna have on your team? Pastry and peppy over here?” Vlad said pointing at Kit and Ar-nold. “You don’t have a chance,” Val added as he walked away with his team. “I’ll show him,” Roxy said. Then turning to her friends, she begged “Help me!”“I would love to be on your team Roxy, but you know why,” Arnold said pointing at his left leg. “Maybe…I think I know a guy or two that will be able to join. You have to trust me though.” Arnold said. “Ok, call them up. By this time tomorrow, I’m entering the Star Blitz Pre!” Roxy said triumphantly. Then the bell rang.

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The Suicide King - PrologueDanielle Maggiore stood in the small waiting area before the balcony, preparing to make my first royal announcement without my husband by my side. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves. Are you in need of any assistance, Your Majesty?” I heard a familiar voice say from behind me. I turned around and opened my eyes. “Jack!” I exclaimed, throwing myself into his arms. “Thank goodness you’re here! I can’t go out there; I

writing is my escapeby Danielle Maggiore

awful thoughts scream through my mind crowding out the few good onesI stumble around, yelling, trying to get them to stopit doesn’t workI grab a pen and whatever I can write ona sticky note, a napkin, the corner of a worksheethoping the words will drive the thoughts awayit doesn’t workthe writing becomes franticletters overlapping and sentences half-finishedthe over-worked pen explodesstaining my hands and wristsI drop everything press my hands into my templesthe thoughts lessen to a murmurI resign myself to quiet sobbing as the ink drips down my arms like blood

Jack tilted my head back and looked me in the eyes. Our faces were close enough that I could feel his warm breath on my nose. “Madrigal, you are their queen. They need to be informed of what has happened, and you need to be the one who tells them,” he said calmly. “Have courage, my darling,” he whispered. The door began to creak open, so Jack stepped back and stood a respectable distance away from me. My maid Giselle walked in. “Excuse me, Your Majesty, but the crowd is growing restless. I do not wish to rush you, but you’ll need to make the announcement soon or they might get out of hand. They will be hard enough to con-trol once they hear of what has happened,” she said in her small, mousy voice. “Thank you, Giselle. You are dismissed.” The girl bowed quickly and exited the room. I turned toward Jack. “Will you accompany me on the balcony while I make the announcement?” I asked. “It would be my honor,” Jack replied. He strode toward the red velvet curtain that separated the balcony and the waiting room. He held open the curtain and gestured for me to go first. I stepped forward quickly, with Jack following behind. Once on the balcony, I gazed over the crowd. Thousands had gathered to hear their queen speak. A hush fell over the people once they noticed I was ready to make my announcement. Casting one last glance toward Jack, I cleared my throat and spoke the news that I had been dreading to share for the last four days. “Your ruler, His Majesty King Charles the Gallant, is dead.”

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The Failed Reformation of DesdemonaBy Danielle Maggiore

Angeletta was given one task: to help her half-sister, Desdemona, choose the light instead of the dark. As a guardian angel, is was her sworn duty to help humans choose the right path. Her half-sister was not a human, but the head of Angeletta’s garrison thought that she could help the girl accept her angel side over her demon side.Angeletta walked down the street toward the building where her sister lived. She hadn’t seen her sister in years and was nervous about how this conversation would go. She hesitated before knocking on the door. Desde-mona started speaking while opening the door.“Hey, I’ve been waiting for 45 minutes; my pizza is…” she stopped talking upon seeing her sister at the door. “You’re not the pizza delivery guy.”“Uh, no. Sorry,” Angeletta answered awkwardly. “May I come in?” “Yeah, sure. Make yourself at home,” Desdemona said. She opened the door and stepped out of the way so her sister could enter the small house. Ange-letta walked up the stairs and sat on the couch. She was soon followed by her sister.“So, Des, how have you been?” Angeletta asked.“Good, I guess. How about you, Angie?” her sister replied.“I’ve been fine.” “Why are you here? And don’t give me that ‘I missed you’ crap. You’ve nev-er come to visit me just because you want to see me,” Desdemona said.“Wow, straight and to the point. Okay, I’ll just tell you. My garrison lead-ers want me to recruit you.” Angeletta told her sister. While it may have not been completely true, Angie thought that her superiors would accept her sister if she chose the light.“They want me as part of the garrison? I seriously doubt that; they all think I’m an abomination,” Desdemona scoffed.“Well, they didn’t say they wanted you in the garrison. But I’m sure they’d let you in if you chose the light side of you,” said Angeletta as she tried, and failed, at sounding cheerful. 13

“So that’s what this is about. You want me to choose which side to fight for. Well, I can’t. I’m not like you, I’m not completely angel. I’m half de-mon. You can’t just come in here and tell me to choose one half of my nature over the other! I can’t just turn off a part of me!” Desdemona stood up, raising her voice. She began to morph into her gro-tesque true form. The left half of her body began to glow a blueish color, and a giant white-feathered wing grew from her back near her shoulder blade. The right half, however, was not as pretty. It gave off a fire-like aura. A large dark brown horn twisted out of her head, and a shriveled up bat wing sprouted up next to her white one.Angeletta quickly shifted into her true form in case she needed to defend herself. While her white wings unfolded, she knocked an arrow onto her bow and aimed it at her sister, ready to shoot if need be.“I didn’t come here to fight. I came here to help you make the right deci-sion,” Angeletta pleaded.“I don’t need help; there’s no decision to make. I am who I am, and noth-ing you or the other angels say or do will change that. Leave now, or I will hurt you. Make sure your garrison leaders know that angels are no longer welcome here.”Angeletta lowered her bow. “Fine,” she said, her voice unnaturally quiet. She walked out the door and into the light rain that had started. After walking a few blocks she sat down on the curb and started to cry. Not only had she failed her task, but she had lost her sister—forever.13 14

HelloBy Ninutsa Nadirashvili

Hello old friend, here we meet againOn the crossroads of returning past and everlasting hell.As you creep back refusing to let go of my favorite man,I know what kind of pain you bring too well.Hello old friend; should I call you death,Or is there something even worse that you entail?Do you only come to give me pain and bad health,Or do you come to make my whole life fail?Hello old friend, named many names but none enoughTo describe what you are, what you are not.All the days with you in tow are blank and tough,All the days with you make my soul rot.Hello old friend, coming back to haunt me at full speed,

Making all the sunny hours dark and all green lines red.

Hello old friend; you bringer of all that makes me bleed,

I truly wish we had never even met. 15

Welcome to ParadiseBy Julian Parra

Ring! As soon as the bell to the last period of the day rang, everyone quickly gathered their belongings and walked out of class. I don’t know what motivated everyone to get out so rapidly—whether it was because it was Spanish class or because they wanted to escape the snow that the weather reports predicted would start at 3:00. If the forecasters were correct, the upcoming storm would be one of the worst in the history of the Northeast. But more importantly, there would be a possibility of no school tomorrow, making it a three-day weekend. Either way, I wanted get out as soon as possible because I didn’t have a ride home and had to start walking. “If I don’t see you tomorrow, have a happy and safe day off!” my friends and I told each other as we passed by each other’s lockers. After I put on my winter coat, I was ready to start walking home. I live pretty far from my school. It’s a 45 minute walk, and if I speed walk, 35 minutes. So, I decided to try to walk to my house in as little time as possible so that I can get home before the snowstorm decided to get ugly. Unluckily, after about ten minutes of walking, I twisted my ankle on a crack in the sidewalk. My ankle started to swell gradually, and the pain I felt was unbearable to say the least. It was as if the bones in my ankle broke into a few tiny pieces. I sat down on the sidewalk, holding my ankle and trying to stretch it out, oblivious to the passing drivers, looking to see what was wrong with me but continuing on nonetheless. Then shortly, I saw a small, black, Honda Civic pull up right beside me. “Is that you, Julian?” exclaimed my friend Jay. After I told him I twisted my ankle, he started laughing, but after seeing my facial expressions, he noticed that I didn’t find the situation hilarious whatsoever. “Are you okay? You want a ride, man? I just got my license, it’ll be fun.” Even though I was pretty skeptical about letting Jay drive me home, I had no other option, so I hopped into his car and put my backpack in the backseat. Throughout the car ride, Jay was swerving left and right and almost crashed about four times because he kept texting his girlfriend. “Hey man, you shouldn’t text and drive. I’m pretty sure we can get into some serious accidents, especially if it’s gonna snow soon.” “I mean I guess,” Jay responded, “but my girlfriend doesn’t like when I don’t respond back right away.” I sighed, and warned Jay about texting and driving once more. After he ignored my sec-ond attempt to give him advice, I told him to turn into the street where I lived. “Thanks a lot, Jay. Stay safe during the snowstorm,” I shouted as Jay drove away, almost knocking down the garbage cans that were already in place for the morning garbage collection. As soon as I hopped to my family room, I put my backpack by a chair, laid on the couch, and turned on the television. I checked my phone—it was 3:30, but there were no signs of snowfall. The sky was still light blue and filled with large, white clouds like an oil painting in an art gallery. I decid-ed to start working on my research paper because if the potential storm caused any power outages, I probably won’t be able to use the Internet for research. I put my laptop on a little table by the couch and elevated my leg so my ankle could heal in the fastest way possible. At around 4:00, both my par-ents came home from work. “Hey Julian. Looks like the weathermen made a mistake. Maybe you might have to go to school tomorrow after all,” my dad said as he entered the family room.

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“What happened to your ankle?” “I twisted it on my way home from school, but Jay gave me a ride.” “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll get you some ice. By the way, I don’t want you getting a ride from Jay anymore. On my way home from work, he drove right past me and drove through a stop sign because he was too busy texting. I just want you to be safe, okay?” “I know Dad, thank you.” As my dad went to the kitchen to get ice for me, my mom started to make chicken for dinner. Sud-denly, at around 4:15, the television show I was watching was interrupted by a breaking news report from CNN. The subtitles read, “Record Breaking Blizzard More Dangerous Than Anticipated, Take Safety Precautions,” as meteorologists frantically explained the situation to the audience. One me-teorologist stated that the upcoming blizzard could be worse than The Great Blizzard of 1888. On that day, up to 50 inches of snow were dumped on Massachusetts, New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey. Then came the chaos. As I was sitting in my family room watching the breaking news report, I saw the newsroom was starting to become a victim of the blizzard. The ceiling and the walls of the newsroom started to tumble and collapse as the powerful snow and hail destroyed everything that was in its path. The reporters started to scream out of panic and started to run, trying to escape the tragic turmoil. My television turned to static. At this point, I felt pretty nervous, anxious, yet confused because even though the news station wasn’t too far from where I lived, the skies by my house were still the same light blue color. Then, in a matter of 30 seconds, the sky turned a dark, gloomy grey color. Three consecutive, sonorous thunders that sounded like explosions in a war zone deafened the neighborhood. My parents yelled, “Take cover!” But it was too late. The white clouds that were once slowly drifting in the sky started to attack the ground below them by unleashing tons of hail, sleet, and snow. Then came another roaring thunder clap. The precipitation became too much for the trees that decorated my neighborhood. The branches of the oak trees nearby started making their way into houses by breaking through the windows. The biggest oak tree barely missed my house, but found a way to smash my neighbor’s brand new yellow Corvette. Unfortunately, this was only the beginning. The weather showed no mercy as it demolished the trees, and the precipitation started piling up, until the roofs of our houses couldn’t handle it any more. It seemed as if all the houses in sight tumbled and succumbed to the pressure of Mother Nature’s wrath at the same time. My parents and I were screaming at the top of our lungs as we saw the walls to the rooms cave in. Mass amounts of snow filled up our kitchen. My parents tried to gather their belongings and think of a way to escape this tragedy and carry me to a safe place. But the snow and the winds split my house in half. The last memory I had was that I tried reaching out my arm to my father, but one of the walls tumbled and hit me on my head, knocking me unconscious. My vision went black. When I woke up, I had a slight, dull headache. I was on the couch, as if nothing happened. My ankle wasn’t swollen, but I still felt sharp pain as if it was sprained recently. As I hobbled over to open the window and look outside, I saw that the light blue sky was back, and everything seemed peaceful. I then noticed the same black Honda Civic that had picked me up not too long ago drive by my street. I decided to turn on the television, and to my surprise, I saw the following white let-ters on a black background that made my jaw drop to the floor: Welcome to Paradise!

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Wonders of a Winter Storm

By Julian Parra

As you wake up, the first sight you see,

A winter wonderland, filled with glee,

The weather, as chilly as can be.

Sparkling bright in the light of day,

The gust of winds blow the snow away,

A stunning scene to see, you might say.

As the amount of snow increases,

The coffee in your cup decreases,

The love for snow you once had ceases.

Though it causes many car collisions a year,

And takes away from us the lives of those most dear,

There is no need to live your life in constant fear.

You can stay at home with those you love,

Watch the snowflakes descend from above,

And picture the sky, white like a dove.

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The Brain GameBy Justin Rodrigues

Brain Game is the nameThe brain tame is not lameBrain Game without a shame The nickname will enflame none for the sameAll shall decay from the untamed murder game Lie aside for all to shame your confidence gameYour brain was never the sameFor now all you crave is the real gameProclaim your sane to all who came For the insane brain gameNone of which know the power of an infamous candle’s gameSlowly trickle, sense of shame, set aflame, the bloody brain’s gameThe bloody scary window frame is the focus of the casual devil’s gameThe cry now is out Time for joy and funThere’s no doubt with that shoutThe time has begunFirst a run then the gunThe stun of the pun was funThe midnight sun signals the job has spunLast was Sid the kidAll forbid him and hid from SidPoor Sid but he would not regret what he didAll who hid were killed on a grid and their heads enclosed with lidsHe praised the bid and his idHe held the hellish spirit withinSid enjoyed his red skin and was happy to sinFor he was Satan and Satan was in

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Window* by Phillip Rodrigues

The Girl remembers little but hears the music. The music… Memories begin to resurface as the music increases. and soon upon a human-like figure a shadowy fiend. Deemo. She froze, abrupt, unsure, displaced. Invited, to stay and listen to the black and white keys serenade. She sat with him, and listened to the music. Reassured. Resurfaced the memories, with her voice. Magnolia. The trees blossomed and grew with the music. The music… In unison the two were perfect, but alas, indifferent. Soon an opening, a rift in space in between, unseen. Falling. ThatRush of Air. Insensible to her. Deemo followed her. The two encountered a mirror of the opposition…A green lush land. Grand Gaia. Peaceful at first, but then the war. A war of Gods and Heroes. Memory Search Start into battle Enraged Equipped with but a rapier and friendship Liberate the evil souls of the cursed. Teach through song and sword, Melody of the Fray… Magnolia Great Tree’s Melody.

*This poem is a fanfiction that imagines a crossover of the characters of the games of Deemo and Brave Frontier, licensed by Ryark, Inc. and Gumi, Inc. respectively. The characters and/or setting are not of the author’s original creation.

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The Evil Stone

By David Zheng

On one horrendous night, not one but two

Of the featured creatures were shot through.

The murderous stone killed the birds and did it without remorse.

The deadly stone shot them down and their wings were the first to burst.

But most of all the cracking sound of the bones were the worst.

The damage was much too great for any doctor or nurse.

Their agony was evident from their desperate and loud caws.

Their chirps, honks, and bah-bocks could be heard by all.

Forever and ever, the dreadful tale will be known.

All would fear the awful atrocity of the evil stone. 21

Acknowledgements

We would like to give a note of special thanks to the following peo-ple who gave their timeand support to help Empyrean become a reality:

Principal Dan LaGrone, Superintendent Rick Spirito, and the entire administration for their continued support.

Mr. John Di Lonardo, whose willingness to cooperate across the curriculum has enhanced the educational value of this project.

Bill Skees of Well Read New & Used Books for hosting our launch party and always supporting the creative writing efforts of our students.

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Creative Writing Club 2014-2015

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EmpyreanCopyright 2015 Hawthorne High School

Hawthorne, NJ 07506