Selah.
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Selah.
an international literary & art magazine.

 Introduction

by Holly Penta

During the development of Selah Youth 2 some important professional relationships have been established. We have formed a connection with the local public schools that I attended as a kid. Although my experience in this school system was ultimately positive, I know the artistic education can be lacking. I’m from a relatively small town, or rather a  small-minded town, full of “locally-focused” people. Many of the kids from my town are taught to believe that a 45 minute drive entails a trek to someplace a lifetime away. Many of them will likely never travel as far as our viewership spans. Through Selah youth, their art and writing can be shared with people thousands and thousands of “lifetimes” away. I may never travel to South Korea, Switzerland, or the far corners of the world that I hope Selah will someday reach, either, but I love being able to form artistic connections across international borders.

Accordingly, a large number of submissions in this issue come from students in South Korea and other non-english speaking countries. They wrote and submitted in their second or even third language! This aspect of their contribution indicates the astonishing ability and, moreover, the confidence of these young artists to seize any opportunity possible. At such a young age they have already accomplished so much.

Selah Youth hopes to inspire children, as well as adults, around the world to have this sort of confidence, as they try to make their way in the world as artists. These kids and their artwork are a constant inspiration to me and I hope it can inspire you too.


Holly Penta

Director of Selah Youth



 Colors

by Retiba Hagazzi

light green like this mechanical pencil and slime kits on Nickelodeon

dark green like the tree’s leaves and camo outfits

brown like the trees branches and the droppings of my kitty cat

cream and rust like the bird and old bikes

granite gray like the benches and kitchen islands for chopping tomatoes

orange-y yellow like the butterfly and the sunset

light blue like what my mom wants our house color to be

dark blue like the graffiti and what I want our house color to be



 The Only Trombone

by Simsim Hagazzi

I hear the blast of my trombone and the tender sound of the flutes.

I see the audience clapping and squinting at the stage.

I see the fellow musicians reading every E♭, G, and A, playing the perfect pitch for each

one.

I feel the brass of my cold trombone.

I see the red curtains swoosh by .The show just started.

I feel excited but I cannot jump because I have to play the perfect pitch!

At the same time I feel nervous because

I wonder about the audience’s reaction.

The last sound is played as the red curtain closes back up.



 One Missed Call

by Minseo Kim

“ARGHHHHHH!!!!!!” shouted out my friends. The spirit suddenly came out of nowhere. My heart was beginning to beat so rapidly, I couldn’t see the TV screen. I thought it would be fine to watch horror movies. It was fine until I felt that I couldn’t move. Holding a phone with my left hand, covering my eyes with my shaking my right fingers. Ready to not look at the horrible eerie demon in the TV screen.

“Dowie, I can’t move. My legs are sleeping,” I said.

“Me too...,” she said.

After the horror movies, we talked a little bit to not get the chills...Maybe not little bit. I needed to go home because it was a really late night and the outside was dark, but I couldn’t go home. Outside was a good place to think about creepy things. So I was looking at my phone to be not scary. “Hwing..”, I was startled by the wind sound. I needed a person to talk with me to be less scared. I called my friend to talk with me. She didn’t answered me back at first. I was kind of apprehensive, but she answered me back later.

We kept talking and I when I arrived to my home, I ended the call. When I entered my house, there was no light. It was dark and silent. There was no one. I was trying to do something to make me not think about the spirit in the movie but the creepy face kept popping out ot my mind. Due to this, I couldn’t really do something. My mom and dad came to home then we ate dinner, at that time I didn’t really think of movie. I was ready to sleep. I got into the bed and tried to sleep. However, I wasn’t actually sleeping, I was just closing my eyes. I couldn’t sleep until the midnight. Fortunately, I don't dream while sleeping, so I didn’t dream about movie story. Because of that horrifying movie, I kept falling asleep at mid night for few weeks.

I can still remember the story of movie because it was a very strong impression for me and I was too young to see that movie. Even though it was very scary, now I don’t believe spirit anymore, although I still don’t like horror movies.



 Together by Erica Lee

 Small Dark Room

by Soyun Moon


‘Click”, I heard the sound from the door. “Oh no” I muttered. I calmly washed my hands and tried to open the door, It was the worst situation that I could imagine. I was right, I was locked in the bathroom. The window was opened, cold breeze come through and it made me shake a lot, and I felt terrified.

I tried to calm down and call my mom, ‘oh… I didn’t bring my phone’. I started to knock the door to let the people know I’m in here, but it didn’t work. As my mom was outside of the bathroom, I thought she would come to find me if I‘m not coming out for long time. However, my mom was excited. It had been almost 10 years that she met her friends. I could even hear her laughing with her friends.

“Ok. The only way to go out is screaming.” I thought. I put my mouth as close as I can near the door. I took a deep breath and yelled. “CAN ANYONE  HEAR ME?? MOM?? JINWOO??”. Then I could hear my mom’s laughing stop. ‘Clack’

“Is it ok now? Can you see now?” said my mom. The clack sound was her turning off the light. She thought that I was yelling because the light was off.

“No! I’m locked in the bathroom!” I said. Finally she said “Oh! Ok, I will let the owner come, so wait for a second. Oh and sorry about turning the light off...”.

‘Finally I’m going out!’ I said with silent voice. After few seconds, there was a noise coming out from the door handle, and I could hear little of giggling sound out of there…



 Haunted Hospital

by Doheon (Drake) Lee

I arrived at a place where I never saw and visited. I was with my 5 friends that were called Greg, Robert, Mark, Ava, and myself, Drake. I had already got chills because we were actually in a haunted hospital for a fun experience. But I already knew it wasn’t going to be fun. It was one of the most haunted places in the world. 1 hour later, me and my friends were ready to go in with some tools to help us in a case of emergency. The entrance to the hospital was open. So we just went in and start slowly walking into the hospital. But suddenly, Mark heard metallic sounds behind him. He saw the entrance door locked behind him with even a lock. Mark shouted to the other friends and me that we weren’t alone in this darkness. Mark tried to open the lock by breaking. But it didn’t work. Mark started to get goosebumps and started following us. We bashed open the door leading inside the hospital. The first thing that we saw was darkness. We started to walk and we heard footsteps above the second floor. Ava that was in front of the group saw behind and she counted if everybody was together. There was everybody except Mark. Mark was gone. When Ava asked if anybody saw Mark. I answered that I saw him going into room 301. Ava checked the room 301 and went inside. After 5 minutes of waiting, she wasn’t back. I slowly open the door and called Ava’s name. I dropped my flashlight. I saw 2 dead bodies hanging on a rope on the ceiling attached to their necks. I thought they committed suicide but Robert said, “There are hand marks with blood, that means someone is in the hospital trying to hunt us down.” After Greg said,“We have to get out of here now!”

3 boys in a haunted hospital and didn’t explore even 1/10th of the whole hospital. It sounded terrifying. We all headed back to the broken door of the hospital. But Robert felt footsteps behind him. It was fast. He was running. Robert turned around and saw something chasing him. Robert shouted, “Something chasing us, run to the entrance now!”. Greg and I ran as fast as ever in our lives. We made it outside and jumped over the fence. We ran until we saw people and cars on the highway. But someone was missing. Robert was missing. “He didn’t make it,” Greg said. Greg and I were all scared after that deadly experience. But we didn’t think more deeply and started heading to each person’s house.

I arrived at my house, I was still paranormal to that experience but I didn’t care and just said, “I’m home!”. Silence. There was no answer. Robert then saw something weird. He had seen his parent’s bedroom open with the light on. But something was not right. Robert looked closely. He saw the door handle covered with blood and a shadow behind the door standing. The door slowly opened up. Then Robert saw something, something staring at him. A long-haired girl, Ava.



 The First Day

by Yuna Kong

My heart tried to escape from my body. I was in the hallway. An adult front of me--my teacher--opened the door. Then, I heard a lot of mumblings. “Who’s that?”, said the 1st graders. “She’s your new friend,” said the teacher. I stood in front of the blackboard. Then the teacher told me to introduce myself. The eyesight from the classmates was compelling me. I was a kid with a lot of shyness, and I never had spoken in front of the class. So this was as same as torture for me. With my voices extremely small, I introduced my name and told that I’m from Korea. The classmates clapped. I felt that I’m welcomed to the class.

   Since that day was the first day of Term 2, we didn’t study. We were listening to the teacher’s announcements. She talked about the term, what are we going to learn, and what materials do we have to bring at the next day. I was looking around the classroom instead of listening to the teacher. I saw my classmates’ face and briefly thought about their image. Suddenly, the recess bell rang. I had nothing to do, so I decided to sit at my spot for the whole recess. But then, one classmate came to me and said Hi. I said Hi to her back. Then she asked me a question: “Is Korea good?” Since I wasn’t close with Korean culture at that time, so my answer was: “I think it’s not bad.” “I want to go to Korea,” came one girl, and whispered. “Really?” I replied. I was a little surprised. Then we had a few conversations about Korea. Their eyes were shining during the talk especially when I talked Korean. A few seconds later, the bell rang. They went back to their seat, waving at me. I waved them back.

   After the recess, we prepared to go home. But Japanese school was very different than the Korean school. In Korean school, we can just go home when the bell rang, but in the Japanese school, we had to gather once and talk about the day before the final bell rings. It was very new for me. When the bell rang, everybody said bye to the teacher. Since my mom was waiting for me, so I decided to go to the shoebox on my own, but one girl came to me and asked me to go home together. I was happy, and I said Yes loudly. Then I went to the 1st floor, met my mom, and walked to my house, chatting with my classmate. It was much entertaining than being alone. When we arrived in front of her house, she said, “Bye Yuna! Let’s be good friends! See you tomorrow!” I waved my hand to her. I think it was the most terrifying day, but also the happiest day for my youth. I skipped back to my home with my mom, hoping that every school day is full of joy.



 Summer Lovin’ by Lauran Mayeaux

 Just Me

by Ethan Hong

One day I woke up from my sleep,  and it was a quiet Sunday afternoon. If I remember, I went to sleep on  Friday. I had been sleeping for 2 days! I got up from my sleep and was about to get angry at my parents for not waking me up.  When I went out of my room there was no one. “Um…” I suddenly was shocked because my parents had disappeared. I thought they just went out for a walk.  But they never came to the house for hours. Was I abandoned, I kept thinking. So I decided to refresh my mind by walking outside. As soon as I opened the door there was no one when it was 3pm. I was shocked again.  I searched the roads, and there were cars everywhere. But when I looked closely there was no one in the driver's seat and neither in the car. I kind of got freaked out. But I was glad there was food in the stores. Everything was  like everyone suddenly disappeared. But because there was no one it was kind of my world.

I kind of struggled on what to do so I first decided to go visit my friends house if they were there.  I rang the bell of my friends house but they did not answer. But the door was open. So I peeked inside the house but there was no one.  It was like they suddenly disappeared, because there were papers on the ground and the TV was still on. So I decided to eat dinner because i did not eat lunch for 2 days.  I ended up in a store which was near my friends house. I ended up eating frozen food. I walked back home. It turns out that time flew by, it was 12am. So I hurried back home.  But there was still no one. It was all the same, my bed was the same. Which meant that no one came. So I played till the next day because there was no one. I kind of felt good.

But because I was alone I kind of felt empty like I was missing something. I was missing my friends, close friends, and family.  But because this was my world it kind of conquered me. So I kind of got crazy. I had everything I wanted. But after thinking about what I was missing it kept making me think, ‘What should I do next’.  So I struggled what to do. So I decided to find them. I tried to look for everything. Footsteps, clues, and all those things. But I had a idea. I decided to look the at CCTV to look at what happened.  So I broke down the door to look at the camera. At looked at every chrace of the cameras, but when I looked at one camera it had a picture of humans. I was shocked to look at humans for such a long time. But when I kept on watching the CCTV there were flashes and then suddenly everyone disappeared.   I did not know what just happened. So I ran out of the room.

I came back to my house, because I suddenly got goosebumps on what I saw.  Because of that video tape I could not focus on anything so then I decided to refresh my mind.  I took a walk outside. I kept on thinking about what happened in the tape. I kept on thinking and I ended up walking for 5 hours.   I kind of got scared. I ran back home with plenty of food to eat. And locked all doors and windows and closed the blinds. I was scared so I stayed home.  After a few days I was sad that there was no one. But when I was watching TV suddenly started to flash and then everything turned black.


I did not know what happened so I started to freak out.   But in the dark no one said to wake up. I opened my eyes.  I was in a room. With chairs and a window. No door. I looked out the window there were people.  I was happy I wanted to go out. There was no door. So I started to hit the window no use. Got the chair and threw it at the window.  No use either. I slapped myself to wake up. I screamed “ I want to meet my family, friends and anything I loved.” Then I heard a voice.  “Are you sure?”

I said “Yes of course”.

“Then why were you so happy when there was no one in your world?” said the voice.

“It was because I was free to do anything I wanted but because there was no one to talk or do anything I was missing something which were people, and friends”.

“Ok” said the voice.

And everything turned pitch black.


I woke up in a hospital.  I hurry and go get off of the bed and looked at the window.  I saw real humans! I got so happy that I cried. The doctor came inside and talked to me.

“Mr. Hong do you know what happend?”

“Why what happened?” I said.

“You have been sleeping for 1 year.”

“What”?

I was shocked but I was happy that there were real people.  But when I got out of the hospital I kept thinking who was that voice.  But when I was walking I could not tell that this was a dream or not. Was I still in a dream?  I did not know.



 Vignette

by Sangyou Park


A way to write Vignettes is to first imagine a specific moment. Not a video, but a picture or a photo. Then, you write a description of that picture or a photo. You should put the elements of a story, but not all of them all allowed in vignettes. You can put character, settings, a little bit of plot, and a conflict. But putting a theme in a Vignette is very difficult. When you finish describing the picture or the photo, try drawing your description into a picture. If you can’t draw a picture, then just try imagining your description.


There’s a man in the foggy forest that’s close from a tall tower made out of crystals. He’s wearing white T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. He has giant muscles on his arm. On the back of his T-shirt, there are 5 dragon’s faces drawn. Blue one and a red one together on the top, with yellow on the left, silver on the right, and green on the below making arrow shapes facing each sides. Besides him, it looks as if an earthquake had happened. If I put the book down, then he’d have to wait staring at the tower.


I wanted to write a Vignette, but I also wanted to write a micro fiction. I couldn’t decide on which one to do because I liked describing images and I liked writing 100 word story. After spending few days for what to do, I chose to do a micro fiction, triptych. But not just a triptych. A triptych with the topic, Vignette! I thought that because I chose the topic, I was done, but I needed to plan for the three Vignettes. Then, I wasn’t able to write it, so I decided to write about me doing all the planning.

 True Me Below the Full Moon

by Jennie Lee

   As my hands were tied to a wooden pole, I stared at the bright moon. Below me,there were groups of people who were thrilled to kill their own species. “You people are worse than a witch,” I screamed as the fire was lit. Feeling sparks of fire, I said to myself, “Dear my poor spirit, if you are able to live a new life, please don’t reborn as a human”


                                                                          “…”


   “Never forget who you truly are”. I woke up. “What a dream”. Tear drops were rolling down my chin. “Never forget who you truly are…” what will that mean?


    Drawing the curtain, I saw people holding torch and shouting. “She shall not be saved! Tie her up on a cross and burn that witch!”  ‘Witch…?’ Tump Tump. I heard a sound from down stairs. I hurried downstairs and saw a crack on a door. As I felt something erroneous, the crack of the door got wider and bigger. Crank! I opened my eyes. “Surround that witch!!” I have to run. I ran as fast as I can. Witch? Me? Suddenly I felt I should stop running. I stopped and turned around. Then I saw some men, looking at me like hungry dogs. I said to them with my arms raised up, “I don’t know how you got an idea of me being a witch, but I am not a--” My vision became blurred.


    I opened my eyes. What happened? I look around and spotted myself tied on a chair. I looked around more and saw them. People who hunted me outside the window. “Everybody silent!” Everyone looked at the man. “The judgement of the witch starts now”. Judgement of a witch? Do they really think I’m a witch? ...Or am I really a witch…?

“I saw her! I saw her taking my husband away from me!”, “That woman always wore a hat! She must be a witch!” I heard plenty of fake stories about me. I wanted to argue with them but I couldn’t. Is this really me? The judgement was over. “She will be burned to death with her whole body tied up on a wooden pole tonight!”.


    Who am I? I thought while my arms and leg were getting tied. Then I remembered the dream I had. “Never forget who you truly are”. Is it possible for somebody to change myself? As I went higher above the surface, I felt a cold breeze scratching my cheeks. Down below me  got warmer and warmer, and eventually it became blazing. I looked up. It looked like as if the moon was trying to console me. “You’re so lucky. How come everyone wants to know you more? And how come everyone wants to change myself?”. But as I think deeper and deeper, all I think about is how humans can be easy to be tricked and turn into a maniac.


   I feel my left leg being burned. But I can’t feel the other one. Maybe some people called “witch” were better than the people down there. I shouted, “If there’s something called God, please don’t give me a new birth as a human!” I closed my eyes. I felt a fire climbing on me. Neither human and witch were truly me.



 Fish by A’Maya Washington

 Screams

by Bomin Jeong


As I was pushed by the crowd, I shivered. The air was cold, but probably, because it was autumn and also it was in the afternoon. The crowd, my friends, and I were inside somewhere the school. Why did this come to here? I was thrilled that I could come here but it became so cold. Then, the crowd screamed. I got curious and looked up. I was alarmed when I saw the ghost who was a girl that looked like a high schooler. Then, I realized the ghost’s face and got more shocked and wished that I didn’t look.


When I looked closely at her face, I regretted that I did. She didn’t have a mouth. It looked like who erased her mouth. I got shocked and as the crowd saw the same thing, they started running towards the door then went to another door. There was a white desk in the middle of the room. The crowd immediately huddled around the desk hoping and there was a clue to go out of this school. Then, a person screamed. It looked as if there was a hand grabbing their foot. I looked down my feet and I was so frightened that I took one step from the desk. As I willed, all of the crowd ran to the door.


The crowd went out of the room without any clue, but we were very lucky. There was a door that looked like an exit. As running, there was a hand that appeared unexpectedly on the floor and my friend almost tripped and then it was a second before I stopped her the hand on the floor. Some people were almost tripping because there were hands on the floor and also blood. Then, the light shined. Everyone came out and nobody was hurt.



 The Journey of the Fear

by David Bae


The story all started with me and my two friends.  We were planning to play football, and nothing seemed harmful to us. Or so we thought. We were all pacing down the crosswalk. I checked the time trying to figure out when my friends and I should arrive home. Suddenly, my foot lodged into the edge of the crosswalk which had the force of a supersonic jet. The pool of sweat that accumulated over time ran the smooth metal through my hand. I cried in fear knowing what would happen next.
In slow motion, the hunk of metal I loved left my hand and fell onto the sidewalk. CRACK. What only seemed like a split second, disaster struck unknowingly.  I fell on my knees, not expecting the substantial and tough journey ahead of me. Trembling, I take my phone off the ground looking at the damage. What was some metal that was valuable to me now looking like a spider web? When I ran my hand down the front, it felt like individual needles pricking me. I start to feel tiny drops of red starting to arise from my skin.
Then, I realized how this action affected me. My phone had all the precious moments I had. My pictures, and my videos which involved things such as my cats or my friends, had all been erased and the anger shown by my mother was also another problem to worry about. The communication device I had on my phone provided me with immediate contact with my friends and family. What if I had some homework due the next day and I didn’t know? Or what if my friends wanted to hang out at the movies tomorrow? Fear rushed through me not knowing what I was going to do. I relied on my phone for pretty much everything and for me to break it!? The effect was devastating. I tried, again and again, to turn on my phone. Nothing seemed to work.
I tried everything. It seemed like the fall didn’t only affect the screen but also affected the phone itself. I realized all hope was lost. Quivering, I put my phone inside my pocket and start walking. Each step leads me to my fate. Inside my head, I was imaging the situations I might be in after I arrive. I say goodbye to my friends, leaving myself alone. After a couple of minutes, I arrived home. I wouldn’t have been able to imagine the wrath my mother would have shown and the fury that would take place inside my home.



 1, 2, 3

by Yerin Shin

‘1,2,3...game start.’ I tied my shoelaces. I trained hard for this game. Before I arrived at lake park, I said to myself, ‘I can do this’. However, when I finally arrived at lake park, my positive attitude was gone. There were so many high schoolers. I lined up and cheered up my team members. However, I was the most nervous runner. Finally, the conductor came out and shouted…. ‘1,2,3 Let’s Go!’.

‘Oh gosh, it started,’ I thought. I started the game without any thought. I just ran in a rush. After 25 minutes, I couldn't breathe well. My stomach was trembling and my knees were cracking. However, I couldn’t stop. The sky was clear and the breeze blew. It was a wonderful day to run. I finally thought I could die here if I didn’t stop running. Suddenly, I heard the voice.

“Let’s go, Dalton!” people were shouting and cheering us on. People began to appear to the park to cheer up us. There were teachers, friends, parents and even other school teachers who were shouting for us. I could finally see the finish line with my blurred eyes. I vowed not to forget many people’s expectations. As I got closer to the finish line, the people behind me rushed like a cheetah. I ran toward to the finish line with my last strength... ‘It’s finally over…’ I thought. Although I couldn’t beat many people. Still, it was a great experience. “3,2,1...the game is over”.



 NOTICE

by Erica Lee

A long message came. We had to break up. We were sorry for each other. After the break-up, it felt like I had no heart, brain, blood, or anything. She was my everything. She filled my empty bottle with sweets. It's all my fault. I remorse and regret that I couldn’t do anything warm and soft for her. I was suffering, and I had nothing. I went to the roof. It was very high, windy and cold. I tried to relax. However, I was full of fear about my girlfriend who left me and now I have nothing. I fell. I was falling with nothing, nothing, nothing, and nothing but my empty bottle. I crashed on the hard, flat ground.

I heard sounds of camera shutters and people talking, screaming, and crying. I couldn’t feel anything. This is better. This is my hope. This time my bottle was full of blood, and I was bleeding in an empty world. I saw my love. She was beautiful, even though she had blood in her bottle like me.

We saw each other. We wanted to touch each other, and hear each other’s words. We tried again and again but nothing worked. At the same time, we realized that we could feel each other’s hearts. Her heart was cold and full of depression. It hurt so much. I could feel it. Now, I can understand her. Why she said we should break up. Suddenly, when I felt it, it was getting colder. No, it was vanishing. She was vanishing like me. I thought this world could be my hope, but not anymore.



 Whimsical Lines by Jordynn Whitlow

Old Memories by Jordynn Whitlow

 Tears

by Minji Lee


Tears ran down my cheeks seeing their picture. Their picture was decorated fancy with flowers around their picture with candles on each side.  In the picture, they were smiling happily toward the camera. It still didn't feel real that now they were not by my side. It feels like in any second they would come out of somewhere saying it was just a prank. Then we would all have been laughing together all the way back home. But, I knew it wasn't going to happen. They had been killed in front of me. I started walking back to my house feeling numb.

When I finally arrived at my house I said, "I'm home! What's our dinner today?" No answer. It just came out of my mouth like a habit, forgetting about everything. I started crying when I went into their room. I could smell the scent of their smell. It was a very soft and comfortable smell. I stood up and went across the room. In there everything was left at the time they left. Blankets unfolded, Clothes everywhere. I took one of the medicine besides the bed and poured it into my mouth. I lied on the bed and closed my eyes. A lot of memories flashed by that I had with them. Now I feel sorry to them that I was a bad daughter. When I opened my eyes again I was in a  peaceful and bright place.

There stood my mom and dad waving at me happily. “We were waiting for you.”



 Untitled

by Cindy Shin

“Hey, you over there! How about we calm down and…” It was cold up on the roof, and then I breathed in the brisk air. There were people below, but I didn’t care. Three floors up from the ground. It would be high enough to die, right? Nobody down there actually cared for me. It’s all a lie. That’s what I thought. And, I jumped. The sky was orange.

My dream was to have a normal life, and I never knew it could be that hard. Every day was a tragedy. I was always alone. There was no place for me to be. I don’t have family nor friends, always in the dark alone. But I’m here with you, so why does that matter? You smile at me and I smile back. We lay down on the plain full of dandelions and white butterflies. The grass is bright green and the blazing sun stings my eyes, and at the same time, it feels like a blanket on me. The breeze sweeps past my skin, and it feels like daydreaming. “Look, Marley, it’s a pigeon!” You say, and jump up and sprint to catch the pigeon, but it disappears into the sky. Only the endless sky and white clouds exist where the pigeon had left. And, I close my eyes.

“Marley, wake up!”

“Why-” I say as I rub my eyes.

“Let’s go! It’s raining!”

I am awakened by drops of water running down my cheeks. It’s cold, and I sit up. You hold my hand and we dash through the forest together. Even then I’m grinning because every second with you feels so precious to me. It is so precious I could do anything to keep it. The trees and the misty fog make a mystical atmosphere. I could see the world in a wider way when I’m with you. You are my everything. You are my treasure.

At last, we come out of the forest, and we wait for a bus. We are soaking. We look at each other and laugh. You are like my other half. The bus comes, and we ride on. The water drips down from our clothes and hair like tears. The empty bus felt isolated, like me a long time ago. But it’s okay now, now that I’m with you. We don’t say a word the whole ride. I guess we’re both too exhausted. But even this feels so thankful. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. Forever.’

Beep- Beep- Beep- Beep――――――


“It’s so sad. Isn’t it? You know the girl that jumped off the roof, right? Well, she lived 3 years after that and died yesterday.” Ruth said as she folded the newspaper in fourths.

“You call that living?” Mason replied. “She was brain dead for 3 years! It would be just the same as dying. I bet.”

“Well… She could have been happier there than ever waking up.”



 Untitled 1 by Akira Baillie

Untitled 2 by Akira Baillie

Untitled 3 by Akira Baillie

 The Petrifying Screech

by Ian Kim

A normal sunny day was how it started. The clouds were clear and the wind was just perfect to play outside. I was playing games with my brother and we were very happy. Planning to play with our friends, we all dressed up. Then suddenly, our mother told my brother to teach me how to bike! Which was OK for both of us.

So we went off running as fast as we can to our bikes and we rode off. Going to the park with my bike was a hard thing. As i rode the bike out of the apartment I fell. Then I fell again while crossing a road, but it was still a fabulous day. I couldn’t understand what my brother called “Balance”. I kept falling down and then instantaneously it happened! I caught the balance. It was very fun to ride as wind struck my face. There was a sudden sound. It was the sound of an airplane looking up I wondered if I could become a bird it would be better than riding this bike.

While looking up I heard something faint and familiar. I noticed that it was my brother screaming at me. I couldn’t understand what it meant. I just wanted the cool refreshing wind to cool off my sticky sweat. I decided to ride more. I looked down and then there was a huge rock as the size of my bed. Under it was a steep stair of rock. Then there was a giant tank of water under it. Too shocked to scream I pressed the brake.

My bike drifted against the hard surface of the rock. Losing my balance, I jumped to gain it back. When my brother reached me. I was hallucinated because of the shock. I had to wait for the shock to move on. My bike broke. I was dead by my mom I thought. This day was the most shocking day of my life. I went home waiting for something worse to happen…..



 Fish by Ashton Avcoin

 Fish by Ellie Ogea

The Final Battle of the Strategy War

by Bryan Kwak

      Climax


My whole body got shocked by a fear. My last teammate died right next to me.

Before my last teammates died I saw a person moving behind the stone. I calmed myself down, and crouched down and charged to my destination. Each step I risked my life and the heart was beating faster than a speeding train. I was getting closer and closer to the stone. When I almost got close to my destination I suddenly heard a grenade fall down just behind me.





                                                               Falling Action



I hadn’t had any choice I ran back through the tree fast as I can. While I was running, the grenade exploded and burned my body. After I hide behind the tree I bombed my last smoke bomb, and I healed my body before the gas gets gone. After the gas gets gone I charged to my destination. When I got closer to my destination I take out my gun to prepare to shoot. Finally, I met with my final enemy. And we both shot a gun. But I couldn't feel the pain, and I thought it is time to die. Suddenly my phone got stopped. For just a second.


                                             

                                                                 Resolution



I opened my eyes to check it again, and I throw the phone on my bed. I lost on the final battle. All my effort and strategies are getting acid and flowing away. After the game, I shamed my strategies the entire day. And I started to plan a new strategy.



 White Dyed Red

by Ashley Choi

White Dyed Red

Darkness. Under silver moonlight shining on the pure white snow, I see a dark figure step into my forest.

He is the only thing living, the only moving figure except for the moon.

Not a single bird twittering and alive in the cold barren land.

A rifle rested on his shoulder, he trudges toward the moonlight while unfazed by the emptiness of the vast land. The cracked roots of the ancient trees seem to be reaching for the heels of the man.

The corpses of creatures laying paralyzed on the ground; their stiffened necks snapped back, their eyes seeming to follow the movement of the hunter.

Death lingers by each tree, shadows of ghosts whispering down from the branches.

The ghosts of the creatures killed in my own hands.

It is the curse of the lone wolf; I kill to be alone, to be left alone.


Wind whistling through my gray fur, I watch as the hunter sets his rifle down.

The moon shines a soft spotlight on the rifle as if to warn him.

Perking up, I start the hunt to kill the hunter.

Creeping through the rotten trees and bushes near him, I grow close behind his back.

A twig snaps beneath my paws while I am creeping, and the hunter turns around.

Immediately, I back up, hiding myself behind an ancient tree.

He crouches down, starting to looking in the bushes, facing me.

I crouch down in a low position, readying for a jump.

He turns around. This is it!


Galloping forward, I pounce on his neck, fiercely digging my claws into his back.

I impale myself onto his neck and sink my teeth into his soft warm flesh.

Bewildered, the hunter rolls on the snow, trying to throw me off.

Dulcet blood drips out onto the ground as I rip the throat, dyeing the pure snow with blood, shining crystalline in bright crimson.

In a minute, the hunter is dead, his heartbeat stopping.



In the hunter’s glassy eyes, I see myself reflected back.

As always, I looked gruesome.

Backing away, I seem to be enraptured in the thought that I am alone once again.

The word ‘alone’ has been engraved in my heart, never leaving my mind.

Every living beast that crosses me seems to die, their blood dripping from my mouth.

Once again I have killed a creature, and the ripped throat has left blood trailing in the snow.

Maybe that is the reason why I am a lone wolf.


Digging a spot for sleep, soon I fall asleep and  start dreaming.

It feels like I only slept a few hours, but feeling a warm figure on my body, I come awake.

Opening my eyes, I wish to the heavens that I am free.

I see the same old forest, but there was a young girl curled up, sleeping on me.

Wearing a dirty ragged dress, I could see her arms and legs covered in scars and cuts.

Who is she?


The girl breaths lightly on my fur, her pale white face cold like ice.

Startled, I freeze in the spot, bewildered by how the girl had been sleeping on me.

She stretches and wakes up, and sits in front of me.

Gazing at me with curiosity in her big brown eyes, she scans me up and down.

Staring back, I cock my head, gazing at her uneasily.

Giggling effervescently, she smiles and laughs.

I sighed, laying down on the spot.

                Fate would decide our future when the time comes.



 Untitled by Saydie Chivers

 Frozen Day

by Seongwoo Hong

The cold wind blew off Gramdu’s fur hood. It was very chilly morning Chilly, hungry morning. Since last week, the snowstorm kept on coming towards his village, Maku village, keepers of the Southern part of North Pole. Supply is no longer coming, radio not working and the village was hungry for a week now. After a quick look at the sky, he still couldn’t sea helicopter or plane. “Another hungry day,” Gramdu said to himself.

As he went inside the fur-coated igloo, His little sister ran towards him” Gramdu did you see anything?” She asked. Soki was her name, Gramdu’s family was basically in poverty. Which made everything worse. “ I heard the helicopter sound, should be coming anytime this week.” Gramdu lied. “ You are lying I kn..” BING BING “ It is a village meeting!” Gramdu shouted, glad this conversation is over. Since Gramdu was the only male in the family he was one that represented the family.

When he got there, it was really weird, No middle-aged man, not one, only elders. Now that he looks back at past, a number of grown man was getting less and less every meeting. Finally Village Chief spoke to Gramdu “ Well boy, I think you noticed out problems. You know that we have been cut short on supply..” spoke the Chief. “ Yes, sir I am notified about the situation… But why ar..” Gramdu was cut by elders. “ I was about to tell you, now we were short on supply, we sent our warriors to find food and the North Pole bases… But no have come back.” He signed weary.

‘ We have called you because of a favor…” “ And what is that? Sir?” Gramdu was getting worried. “ You are only young male we have left, and we want you to go find them and of course supply, Maku village is desperate Gramdu. Do you accept it?” Chief asked.

“ I.. I don’t .. “ Then Gramdu saw it loving eyes, benevolent leader desperate to save his people was asking him. “ I accept it, sir,” Gramdu replied. “ You may leave when you are ready, may the god be with you.”


So Gramdu went back to his tent. Ma was sewing new blanket for Soki and Soki was sleeping. “ I sorry Ma…” he whispered. “ Why Gramdu? Anything wrong?” she replied, worried. “ I am sorry, I have to.” Then he grabbed his spear and pocket knife he made earlier. “ No you are not Gramdu, you can’t… Please don’t go! You will die like the others!!” She cried. And just like that Gramdu left, not for lost man, not food, but for the fate of his village.


It was almost 3 days and Gramdu was starving to death. Then came the sound Growl!!  It was a sound of a polar bear! Then as Gramdu came running toward the sound, he realized he made a mistake, there were 3 polar bears. All at least 12 foot tall. Gramdu had to think of a clever way to kill them. All he thinks of was mass killing at once. Now that these bear were chasing him. Gramdu ran what he didn’t know he was getting close to a cliff. Soon after Gramdu was halted by the cliff. But Gramdu had a trick up his sleeve. As polar bears got closer Gramdu moved out of the way. There they fell down the cliff. But one survived and was 15 feet away from Gramdu. He remembers the spear took it out. And took an aim, a polar bear was now coming towards him. With all his might he threw the spear. “ AHHHHH!” he shouted as he threw it. Razor sharp spear was shifting lightly so fast, as it got shined by the moonlight, the spear struck the polar bear on its neck. GROWL!!! Polar bear screamed in agony. And Gramdu finished him with his pocket knife. FINNING! “ I am sorry,” said Gramdu “ It was for the village”. As polar bear’s whine got smaller the last of its breath was frozen by the chilly weather.


Gramdu had done it he carried all three polar bears back to the village and so village thrived until air supply was back again. There were many human bones inside the polar bears, and that solved their case. Last few days were sorrowful and heartbreaking, but the village stood again from its knee and became strong again. With wise and powerful leader Gramdu would later become, Maku village never experienced those kinds of situation again.



 Stitches

by Joon Hwang

“Go! Now!” The rain was pouring down on my body. Almost there, to home. “Go to the bridge!”. My dad kept on yelling at me. But wait, the high bridge? “Come!” I didn’t know what would happen until now. Slip, boom! Redwater was pouring out from my arm. It was blood! I saw a bit of my skin. Holy, crap, what do I do! I was crying hard, because of the pain of my arm was hurting a lot, and the rain made the pain worse. Then, we were walking to the hospital. I was shrieking and shrieking of pain, while others were staring at me. When we got to the hospital, I was closing my eyes, not knowing what will happen to me. Then, I went inside a room. A needle through my arm, then, I felt a string. “What is this?”, I thought. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” I felt a paper on my arm, a very sticky paper. The doctor gave me some medicine. Technically a lot. What will my mom say to me now? I slowly moved to my home. “Your fault my dad!”, I said. No answer. Did my dad even care about me? Am I trashed? Am I worth nothing? We went home with that bad mood on me.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, ding! The door opened. “How was… what is that cast?”, my mom said. It was too obvious. I knew she was going to say that. “My dad’s fault!!!”, I said. “Wait, whoa!”, my dad said, trying to defend himself, but it was too late. “Excuse me, sir? Did you make your little brother hurt his arm? Let’s have a talk.” Hours passed. my dad finally came out. “I’m sorry.” my dad said. “Please accept my apology.”. “I don’t accept your apology,” I said. “You are the worst!”, and I went out of the house.

Minutes passed. An hour passed. I was right outside the door. I was crying, not knowing what to do. That is when my dad came out & said, “Come in.” “No!!!”, I screamed. I was feeling very bad right now, and he doesn’t even know it. He doesn’t even know how much it hurts. He doesn’t even have a right of saying me to go inside or not. But I had to. I was starving, & thirsty. I finally went inside. I was too tired, that I just slept, even though I was starving & thirsty. I woke up the next morning. My dad, beside me, was still sleeping peacefully, snoring a lot. We never talked that day. From when we woke up, until when we slept. Days, weeks, but we didn’t talk at all.

3 weeks passed, & my cast was off. We took out the stitches, one by one. I saw all of the doctor’s awards, but surprisingly, he had signed baseballs. In fact, there were a lot. I also saw 5 big baseballs, with at least 15 signs on it. That when I realized he worked for baseball players, being a doctor for them. I was staring at it for a long time. “Do you like baseball?” he asked. “Yes.” I said, stuttering a lot. “Who do you like?”. “I like every player.”. He was still taking off the string from my arm “It is over boy.” he said. “Also, keep this, I would like you to keep it. I already have too much of it.”. I was asking myself, “What does he mean?”. Surprisingly, it was a signed ball, by one of my favorite players! I guess my dad told him about it. I heard his voice when he was still taking off the stitches. Finally, after 3 weeks of not talking to him, I finally opened my mouth. “Thank you, dad.” “You’re welcome son.”, said, dad. I never knew he would be this kind to me. Also, the timing was very good, because I had a baseball competition just next week, inside a baseball field. The actual baseball field.

A week passed. Finally, I went inside the field. My first reaction was, “Whoa!”.  I never knew that it would be that big. But, we needed to get going, and had no time to take a tour around the field. The game started. I was the third batter. I went inside the batter’s box at the 5th inning bottom, the last inning, score tied 2:2. I took a deep breath. I saw my parents watching me play. The first ball came to me. It was right in the middle of the strike zone. I took a full swing. “Crack”, as the bat sounded. It was going to the deep right, & I knew it. I knew what was going to happen. I threw the bat & walked slowly.

Reality

by Joon Hwang

It was time. Time to go to my real life. I take injections in my body for my lucid dream. In the year 2086, a scientist named Daniel Don wins the Nobel Prize for neuroscience and earns a lot of money. It was the time he finally made a life inside a dream. This process is called the lucid dream. Unlike the lucid dreams before, this invention made a different life possible. Before this happened, I happened to be very poor. I am still a hobo living in streets. But on 11’0 clock to 12'0 clock I every day, my real life begins. World’s No.1 wealthiest man on Earth, chosen for the Top 10 people who changed the world, that’s all of me. This was all possible because of one strength, reading people’s minds. This only happens in my lucid dream, not in my poor life.

One day I took injections for a lucid dream. Then I woke up inside the lucid dream. I went out of my house for a flight to Japan. The atmosphere was silent, and my brain suddenly stopped and I fainted instantly. 2 hours later, I woke up in the hospital. I was dazed by the reason I fainted. Then I noticed I lost my strength and power. But it didn't really matter much, because I am a billionaire already. But this was actually the end of my life in the lucid dream. Thinking of the past, I lived a tedious and not a meaningful life. I only thought of money. This is what normal people think these days, only money is the meaning of life. The meaning of life is enjoying, hard-working and more.

When Daniel Don made this invention, he made it as all the poor people become rich in the lucid dream. If the poor got evil and only lived because of money, he set it up as the lucid dream to end. But the people that lived meaningfully and kindly, their life in the lucid dream becomes real. The rate of life being true was only 2%.

I finally woke up with my injections gone. I sat down and looked at my pants. It was ripped and torn. I sighed.

I resume my real life. Live a life like a loser or a winner? This depends on what choices I make



 All of Your Yesterdays

by Ryleigh McCoy

December 13th Things look different now that you’re gone. They’re not, not really. Nothing has changed much. The town is still small. People are still quiet.

Maybe I’m the only one that’s changed.

October 1st I’m writing this journal now, I guess. To organize my thoughts. It seems silly, I know. But everything has been too serious lately, and I need something silly to balance it out. This journal will have to do. I’ll write down all the important stuff that happens in here, so you can read it if. Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. When you get back. When. Not if.

I think I’m going to sign out for today.

October 5th Izzy’s okay, in case you were worried. I sneak out to the old park to feed her when I can. A part of me is still hoping that you’ll be there, sitting at the top of the slide and picking the paint off of the platform. I haven’t seen you yet, though.

I thought it would be more difficult to get permission to leave the house after you left, but my mom doesn’t seem concerned. When I tell her I’m going somewhere she’ll just nod and tell me to be back by seven. She doesn’t say anything if I get home late.

Your parents haven’t changed much, either. I’ll see your mom walking out to her car in the mornings. She hums to herself, sometimes. Your dad mows the lawn every saturday morning. It seemed a little weird to me, you know? That they didn’t seem more upset. Then I remembered that time we went to my grandpa’s funeral and my aunt didn’t cry at all. She just stared straight ahead the whole time, never making eye contact with anyone else. I asked my mom about it later, and she told me that people handle grief in different ways. I guess your parents’ way of handling grief is by pretending that nothing even happened at all. I wonder what my way of handling it is.

October 6th I got in a fight, a week after you left. I didn’t think I had it in me, to be honest. School had just started back up again. You were nowhere to be found, and I was getting really nervous. Not to say that I’m not always nervous, because I am, but it was much worse.

I told you goodbye on the last day of summer. We were at the old park. You had been sitting on the swing set, swaying idly with Izzy purring contentedly in your lap. I was picking clovers out of the dirt and tying them together so you could have a crown to match mine. We didn’t talk that much. It was like that, occasionally. You didn’t feel like talking some days. I was fine with that. Growing up in a house with only your mother, who worked most of the time anyways, you grow accustomed to silence. I know silence. I’m good at silence. Well, on the outside, anyways.

When it was time for you to leave, I said “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, yeah?” and you just said “Bye.” I didn’t really think about it, at first. I figured you were just tired, or stressed, or something, and you wanted to get home. You’d be better in the morning. But the only thing you were that morning was gone.

So... I got into a fight a week later. Kind of a fight. I was stressed and jumpy from worrying about you, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I was walking home from school, and that dumb kid Lucas was there. He had been walking the same direction as me with a couple of his goons. They stopped, suddenly. Pulled a piece of paper off of a pole. They were all crowding around it and laughing. As I got closer, I could see part of it. It said “MISSING” in big, bold letters at the top. And, I swear, Jas, it was you. I could have sworn I saw your face smiling back from the bottom of the page, printed out in monochrome ink.

My mind blanked, and I swung my fist before my brain could even process what was happening. Lucas was turned away from me, and he moved his head just as my punch landed. I hit him in the nose. He swung around to face me, his hands clamped over his nose, his fingers beginning to drip with blood. He was screaming curses at me, and I think I might have been screaming back. It’s a bit fuzzy, honestly. I tried to hit him again. I had snapped, and fighting back made me feel powerful. It was the same way I had felt when you stood up to Lucas for tearing up my sketchbook. The second punch didn’t land, though. The girl who was walking near me had grabbed my shoulders and was steering me away from the group. Lucas kept screaming after me.

I don’t know much about her. She walks the same way as me until we get a few blocks from my house, but other than that, she’s a mystery. Oh, also her name. I think she’s named after a Greek Goddess. Athena, or Artemis, Aphrodite, maybe. Something like that. She has big, curly

hair, and keeps her bangs back with colorful headbands. She still hasn’t spoken to me, even after the fight. I guess that’s understandable.

I saw the poster again, after they left. It wasn’t you. It was a missing dog.

October 13th I think I found it, Jas. I think I found your note. Tomorrow will be the three month anniversary of you leaving, and I think I finally found a clue. I went to the old park to drop off some flowers. It’s dumb, I know it is, but there was a little voice in the back of my brain telling me that you’d come back to the park. That maybe if I brought some of your favorite things, you’d return. I know it’s dumb, whatever. But I think it worked.

I also brought some crystals. Amazonite, specifically. I had some left from that time we went to the next town over, to the magic shop. It’s supposed to be good for finding things, and I thought, maybe... well. You know what I thought.

You were never into those things. Not as much, anyways. You told me you thought it was cool, though. And you didn’t complain when I drew sigils on your high tops, or braided crystal beads into your hair. That was nice. I think that’s why I wanted to be your friend so much, at first. You didn’t call me weird like everyone else did. You just smiled at me, and brought me pretty rocks when I showed you my crystal collection.

I found the note next to the pile of wilted flowers I had brought the week before. Sunflowers, of course. Your favorite. It was small, and crumpled, but when I saw it, my heart started beating faster. Who else could have left it? It’s your handwriting. You don’t have a phone, so you’d write notes to me sometimes, and leave them on my windowsill. I’d recognize it anywhere. The note is unbelievably short. That’s frustrating, honestly. But it’s progress. It’s something, when I’ve been drowning in nothing.

It just says sorry. That’s it. Just “Sorry.” Then your name, and a tiny doodle of a sunflower.

What are you sorry for? Sorry for leaving? Or something else? Is it something I don’t know about, Jasmine? Did you do something? Are you running from something? Someone?

But that doesn’t make sense. Why aren’t your parents reacting? That’s what I don’t get. You know what? No. I don’t understand any of it. I don’t. Why are you gone? Where did you go? And why, for the love of God, is nobody talking about it?

I have so many questions, but nobody seems to have any answers. You were always content with your not knowing. Why stress about the things you don’t know? Ignorance is bliss, right? Well, this isn’t bliss. I don’t know where you are, or if you’re okay, and this is not bliss. This is purgatory.

So I’ll keep searching. I will go through all of our conversations in my mind. I will analyze everything you said leading up to you leaving, and I will look for the things you didn’t say. Because you left, Jasmine. You left your parents, and you left Izzy, and you left me. But I’ve found the first clue. And I’ll keep searching for the clues you hid inside all of your yesterdays.



 Cake by David Schaefer III

 The Lost Heart

by Kilynn Engelhardt

When she stepped into the meadow, the scent of roses and gardenias overthrew her senses, and as she closed her eyes, all of the memories rushed into her mind: the love, the heartbreak, the sadness, and the fear. The flowers, the ones that reminded her of her loving, caring father. The, “more masculine colors,” as he would call them. The fragrance flowed through her veins and took control over her emotions: anger, sadness, and distress all flowed through her body, reminding her of her lost heart. The one person that comforted her, the one that told her to, “Get up, brush it off, we’ll get through this if we have each other.” Except for the fact that that was the one thing she didn’t have… him.

His warm embrace in his hugs, his laughter that was contagious, and the loving man that was her heart. Her heart is gone, but feeling still remains. She feels as if she can’t go on without him, because she feels as though it would be much better with him. The feeling rushed through her body and she fell to her knees, sobbing. She was just a huddled lump of what used to be a radiant ball of joy. “She was just a child, how could this have happened to her,” she thought.

“Of all people, why did it have to be me?” she asked herself as tears poured out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. The tears started to dry but she still felt as helpless as the day the news had been delivered to her.

There had been a banging on the door at 6 o’clock in the morning, but it was a weekend. She got up, confused and still half-asleep, and walked into the living room to see an exhausted and weary aunt with a grim expression on her face. The tears that had dried were replaced by new ones, even greater, while she sobbed louder until she became exhausted and drained from all of the crying. She had depleted her body of all the tears that it could produce and wiped away the remaining droplets that came from her bloodshot eyes and rested on her blotchy face.

She opened her eyes and ran as fast as she could, trying to run from the past, the memories, the cause of her sadness. She ran until she was out of breath, and that was when she had finally realized that she did not only lose her father; but that she lost her heart.



 SEA.

by Amy Liu

I. Her tongue darted out, tasting the bitter tinge of iron on her lips. Her pale, slender fingers traced the chapped surface, body racking with shivers as she realized how underdressed she was in this situation, the freezing ocean breeze raising the tiny hairs on her arms.

She could taste the pain, the agony that the heavy air contained. It pressed downwards on her, suffocating all the will she had. She swallowed as she felt a tiny itch in her throat, her lungs aching as she breathed in and coughed, hastily wiping away the froth bubbling from her lips.

Involuntarily, she stumbled backward, seeing the red smeared across her ivory skin, creating a stark contrast. “Please, no...,” she whispered, her voice trailing to a faint echo in the vastness surrounding her.

The sea’s waves crashed against the shore chaotically, swallowing the once-untouched sand in its grasp. There was a cold sheen of sweat upon her skin, and for a split second, she saw the crimson waters, ripples twinkling across its surface with their corpses beneath.

“I’m sorry,” she wailed out, feeling the warmth of another body behind hers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for everything, just please don’t--”

The figure’s lips curled upwards in a delirious smile as the girl was left behind, staining the pale mounds of sand dark with her tainted blood.

II. It felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs. The boy standing next to the police wasn’t helping much, either, with his stammering of ‘I’m sorry’s like a broken record. She felt the world tilt on its axis as everything fractured apart into a million pieces. Her mouth kept repeating, ‘It’s not true, tell me it’s not true, please!’

She felt her heart shatter to the ground at full force. She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead. But the more she told herself the phrase, the more it seemed false, a beautiful mirage from the harsh reality of the world.

They took her to an isolated room where she was interrogated and asked questions about where she went to school and her relationship with her sister. She felt so empty, so numb. She could still remember her mother’s raspy voice as she took her last breaths of air, Take care of her, please. You two have to stick together no matter what.

And yet she had failed at the task. She had promised her mother over and over that she would always look out for Rosie, but she had not been the good sister she wished that she was. Sobs racked through her body the second she entered the bathroom, slumping onto the ground.

There were so many different emotions in her heart, but one was prominent among the dark, faded shapes-- guilt. If Elle had called Rosie more often, checked up on her, she wouldn’t be in the same situation. She couldn’t justify her actions with the same excuse of university or her part-time job at the community art center, and certainly not with the party she had been at the night Rosie went missing.

Her stomach wrenched, twisting rapidly as she remembered the hot, sticky atmosphere of the party and the crowded figures in the room. She remembered passing out and waking up next to the sidewalk. God, she never should’ve gone to that place. Where was Rosie at the time? Was this before she was murdered by that sadistic psycho? Or was it after she bled out across the sand, wondering where her beloved big sister was when she needed her?

It sickened her; she and Rosie had both loved the sea. Every time something troubled them, they would always go there to collect seashells and to simply sit on the shore, talking about everything and nothing at all.

Elle jerked forward as she retched, dark hair falling from behind her shoulders to encircle her face. There was no one there to hold the strands back; she could still remember Rosie’s hands holding her hair back the day she ate too much at that tiny, roadside concession stand. Her sweet, kind sister, who was always there to help her when she needed aid of any sort.

What kind of sadist would want to hurt her little sister, with her soft smile and her reassuring words? The tears subsided and dried, as anger slowly overtook her. There was a tiny little itch in her chest, threatening to leap out any second. She needed to find whoever did this. She craved to break whoever hurt her sister, one by one. She wanted to kill him.

She rested her head against the bathroom wall as she stood up on shaky legs. Get it together, Elle. Crying is futile now-- you need to get revenge for Rosie.

And whoever murdered Rosie Fan had made a dangerous enemy in the form of a girl with embers burning in her soul, a true phoenix risen from the ashes.

III. On the way out of the police station, Elle caught sight of the boy who was inside. His frame leaned against the concrete wall, his head tilted to the side slightly. He was smoking a cigarette, taking puffs of it slowly.

But what contrasted from this cliche bad-boy stereotype were his eyes. They were big, wide eyes, full of innocence and youth. And yet they held so much sadness and sorrow, deep in their depths.

Those same, deer-in-the-headlights eyes stared up at her, surprised, as she blinked, suddenly aware that she had been staring this whole time. Her expression quickly turned into a scowl as she realized how he had been the first one to discover Rosie. Maybe he was the one who killed her, after all.

Her fist curled in anger as the same unsteady feeling overcame her. She felt dizzy from the crimson rush that washed over her, as she dug her nails into her palm, already feeling the crescent-shaped marks they would leave afterward. But the words coming out of his mouth stopped her, “I’m so sorry, Elle.”

Elle? How did he know her name?

His lips lifted upwards in a melancholic, reminiscent smile as he murmured, “My apologies, I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Alistair, Rosie’s--friend. She used to talk about you a lot.”

Used to. “She never talked about you,” she murmured, slumping against the wall. She felt as if everything had drained all her energy and radiance. Her voice sounded sharper than she intended, and she watched as he flinched slightly.

“I’m sorry, she just never brought you up...” Elle’s voice faded away as her mind raced. If Rosie had hidden Alistair from her, what else had she been hiding? “Did you--did you know her well?”

He shrugged, brushing his messy locks out of his eyes. They were like whiskey through an amber glass, warm and honeyed. “I drove her to class every morning, and we’d walk together every day, but she was always a bit of a mystery to everyone.”

Elle blinked with confusion; Rosie had always been reserved, but she was amiable and made friends easily. Shaking her head, Elle asked, “What did she say about me?”

Alistair paused before answering, seeming to choose his words carefully. “She loved you and admired you, but she also said that she was... intimidated by you.” Seeing her face contort into shock, Alistair quickly added, “She just missed you a lot, you know. And she said you always had this radiance about you that made you the sun, and I guess that she always felt like Pluto when she was next to you.”

Elle felt herself scoff in disbelief. Rosie was a Mary Sue in Elle’s eyes, and Elle had envied her ever since the beginning when her parents had showered the younger girl with their praise and affection. How could Rosie possibly envy Elle? Elle had always been the black sheep of the family, never quite fitting in.

And why was she afraid of Elle? Elle had never laid a single finger on her-- sure, sometimes she disciplined her sister, but she always made sure that Rosie felt loved and worthy, no matter what.

The sun was setting, bathing the sky in hues of gold and blood-orange. Clouds drifted across their canvas, swathed in soft yet vivid tones. “It’s beautiful, right?” Alistair remarked, his head tilting to the sky. His eyes were sore and red as he abruptly turned, facing Elle. “You do remind me of her,” he murmured, his voice a fleeting whisper. “I hope you find whoever... whoever hurt her. You will find them eventually; my professor always tells me to look closer to where you may not expect.”

Elle narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but he walked away, his broad shoulders against the background of the parking lot. She watched him get into his car and drive away, his voice still ringing in her ears, Look closer where you may not expect.

IV. September 10th, 2014 I don’t know what this is for, frankly; my friend recommended it for something like trauma? I’m not sure, she says that she believes that journaling helps get things off of her chest. I don’t think she’s right at all, but whatever. It’s just nice to vent to something willing to listen.

I miss her so much, it just breaks my heart. I get this sick feeling in my stomach whenever I think of her dead body and her soul, gone from this world. I know one thing-- I won’t stop until I find whoever did this. Alistair was right, as suspicious as he is. I think I need to look closer at little details. The police have invited me into their investigation; I guess they’re so desperate that they’re involving family now.

I’m still wary of Alistair... what did he mean? It sounds like the stereotypical, over-cliched signs of him being guilty. And yet there’s a sorrow to him that I can’t uncover; he seemed to genuinely have been in love with Rosie. I would be too; she was an angel. Whoever hurt her must have been the devil.

September 28th, 2014

They filled me in with some information about Rosie’s case. There wasn’t much to uncover; just a manila file folder with a few papers and her picture inside. They avoided showing me the crime scene because it would be triggering, I guess.

I ran into Alistair today at the bookstore. He looked lonely and unhappy, but when his eyes met mine, they seemed to almost light up. He offered to buy me a coffee, I told him no over and over again, but in the end, he convinced me to go with him. We discussed Rosie’s case and eventually warmed up to each other. But there’s still something off about him that I can’t identify. For some reason, I feel as if this is all a game to him. I’m not sure; I think I’m just being paranoid about it all.

October 14th, 2014 I’m honestly terrible at remembering to journal-- college life is so hectic.

I ran into Alistair again today, on my university campus. We still talked after the coffee date, but it had been a while since we met. I was surprised that he was at my university, but just before I turned to leave, I saw a dark-haired girl clinging to him. I was shocked; she looked so much like Rosie, with the doe eyes and ruddy cheeks.

He tried to downplay it, but I was already walking away from the couple. Later that night, I did some research and found his social media. I dug deep, and I found around four different girls who looked exactly like Rosie. I looked up the girls, and, hear this, another girl named Sonya Choi disappeared completely from all records.

It hurts my heart to say this, but Alistair isn’t who I thought he was. In fact, he’s cruel and cold and there’s a piece of burning hatred for him, deep in my chest. This was a game to him after all.

I just came back from reporting it to the officers, and they’re now investigating the case. For some odd reason, they don’t seem to be trying so hard anymore. And neither am I; I guess I’ve accepted it after all, but I’m not ready to let her go... not yet. I can’t stop myself though, I hope that he gets what he deserves.

October 19th, 2014 Rosie, if you’re still reading this, I want you to know that I’m so sorry for wrongly accusing him. He was trying his best to forget about you by moving on, but he still loved you.

Why I’m saying this?

Alistair’s body was found at a seashore nearby, in the vicinity of where you were hurt.

I’m sorry for ever calling him cruel.

November 17th, 2014 I’ve given up hope. There are no leads whatsoever; the police keep saying it wasn’t considered a serial killer because there were only four deaths with the same M.O. in total.

Can you believe that they think it’s suicide? How would you expect four deaths with stab wounds to be that?

I’m not even fighting anymore; it’s a vain effort, after all. I’ve lost the tiny seed of hope planted in my heart.

But without Rosie to whisper her sweet, comforting words to me, I’m basically failing college at this point. I just feel so hopeless; at this point, I don’t care if I sink or swim.

P.S. I found a painting with an ambiguous image in my house; I have no recollection painting it at all. Maybe I was tired or wasted, but I’m still impressed with the end results. Rosie would be proud.

November 29th, 2014 The stars are bright tonight, Rosie. I think it’s because you are among them.

December 12th, 2014 I had a terrifying dream last night. I dreamt that Rosie was lying next to me, smiling with that stab wound in her heart. She kept whispering “sister dearest” over and over again, and no matter how hard I tried to escape her choking grasp, I couldn’t.

December 15th, 2014 I woke up this morning on the side of the street again; I guess I really need to get it together at this point. I don’t even remember what happened last night; or the night before that, even. My life’s tearing apart at the seams, and yet, for once, I don’t care at all.

December 29th, 2014 Help me please I don’t know what to do anymore please please please I can’t stop this storm I love you so much that I hate you

January 7th, 2015 I have no recollection of the past two weeks... What is wrong with me?

January 12th, 2015 Who am I anymore?

January 19th, 2015 I’m going to do it tonight I’m sure if I don’t my mind is going to explode. I don’t want help anymore aren’t we all insane in some way

V. Her body was slammed against the car door roughly, the knife dropping onto the soft sand behind her. The sirens rang in her ears, blue and red lights flashing in front of her eyes. Multiple personality disorder, they murmured, Poor girl, driven mad from when she was younger.

“Elle Fan, you are under arrest for the murder of Rosie Fan, Alistair Grey, and Caroline Clark. Anything you say can and will be used against you; you have the right to remain silent.”

And yet, through her dazed, wild eyes, all she could see was the sea, whispers, and howls drifting in her ears, where despair reigned over everything else. Where the water suffocated the sand. Where everything drained away into the same, hopeless kingdom over and over again.



 Fish by Maya

 Changes

by Isabella Spears

Ming-Na had always grown up in large families. Her foster homes always had many kids in them, but she had never expected this many in one foster house.

“You mean there are fifteen of us?” she asked, amazed. She looked up from the letter her current foster mother gave her.

Mrs. Lillian smiled brightly. “Yes! Plenty of opportunities for you to make friends, huh kiddo?”

Ming-Na looked at the letter again. It listed the names of all her new foster siblings. She was to be taken in by a fellow of the name Alexander Williams. Looking in the envelope once more, Ming-Na saw a photograph, and one that appeared to be old, at that. She studied the photo. On the back was scrawled Alexander, Aaron, Tommie, and Jamie 2015.

A loud car alarm sounded from outside, forcing Ming-Na out of her study.

“Go ahead and pack,” Mrs. Lillian instructed. “You’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” So she only had one day left. One day to say good-bye to her closest friends and the nearest thing to family.

The next day, after tearful good-byes and what would normally be creepily long hugs, Mrs. Lillian put Ming-Na into a taxi and left without getting inside herself, claiming she was “too busy.” She wasn’t even going to accompany Ming-Na to her new home. So that’s how it is, huh? Ming-Na thought.

After being dropped off, Ming-Na noticed there was no car in the driveway. Her new guardian wasn’t going to be here either. Then, just as she thought she was all alone, Ming-Na heard a loud scream coming from behind the house. Like a fool, she decided to see what it was.

In the back were two boys. Ming-Na would have thought they were the same person if it weren’t for the different shirts they were wearing. They were on top of each other, wrestling in the garden, and mercilessly trampling the flowers. One of the boys turned Ming-Na’s way, noticed her, and screamed again. The other saw this as an opportunity to punch him.

“Jamie, shut up!” the puncher said, pushing him off. He bounced up and dramatically bowed at Ming-Na. “M’lady,” he greeted her.

Jamie, in revenge, pushed the other boy over, and they ended up as a tangle in the garden once more.

“Hello,” a deep voice from behind Ming-Na said. She jumped, tripping over her feet in the process and falling on her face. The two look-alike boys began howling with laughter. “Tommie, Jamie,” the voice commanded, “go take a shower. At least you’ll be clean when Mrs. Delilah punishes you.”

The figure, a tall boy as Ming-Na could now see, extended a hand and helped her up. “Sorry about them, the twins are a handful. Or, as I should probably say, two. I’m Aaron.” The boy had a sweet but shy smile, the one of a person who means well but isn't always there to show it.

Aaron led Ming-Na inside and sat her at the table while he made something for her to eat. A girl who appeared about Aaron’s age came walking down the stairs. She had thick, golden blonde hair and freckles that almost completely covered her face. She had a baby in her arms, and looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. The girl placed the baby in a high chair.

“Go sleep, Miriam” Aaron commanded her. “I’ve got Luisa.”

As Miriam trudged back upstairs, Aaron placed two plates on the table- one for Ming-Na and one for baby Luisa. He took a third for himself and sat down with the two girls.

“As I’m sure you already know, there are a lot of us here.” Aaron began counting on his fingers. Ming-Na heard him muttering things like There’s Rowan. Almost forgot him. and The twins, unfortunately. “Fifteen!” he blurted out suddenly. “There’s fifteen of us!” Ming-Na didn’t have the heart to tell Aaron she already knew.

Then, out of the blue, a young woman no older than twenty walked through the door, two younger girls at her side. One looked identical to Miriam, and the other had fire red hair. Ming-Na recognized the redhead from her old home. Mia had left a year prior, and it appeared she had come here.

While the girls put away the groceries, the young woman walked into the backyard. She saw her trampled garden and screamed. The twins came down the stairs in an instant.

“It’s not what you think, Mrs. Delilah,” Tommie (or was it Jamie?) said.

“It was Christian,” the other claimed. Both nodded profusely at their lie. At this, Aaron glared at them, disgusted they would do such a thing.

Mrs. Delilah groaned, putting her head in her hands. “Alexander comes home in about thirty minutes,” she half-mumbled. “We’ll figure it out then.”

Happy that their response worked, the twins ran outside, most likely to create more havoc. Aaron sighed and started hitting his head on the table. “They always pull that excuse,” he muttered.

True to Mrs. Delilah’s statement, Mr. Alexander walked through the door precisely thirty minutes later. By now, Luisa was taking a nap and Aaron was doing homework. Ming-Na, for some reason let Mia put make-up on her. It didn’t come out well. “It never does,” Mary, Miriam’s doppelganger, said through bites of a chocolate bar.

Minutes later, Mr. Alexander called everyone down to dinner. Miriam had baby Luisa and another toddler in her arms, Aaron’s glasses were askew, and the twins looked like they hadn’t see soap and water for years. No one seemed fit for dinner- at Ming-Na’s old foster home, everyone had to look their absolute best before supper was served.

Mr. Alexander gestured at the table, and everyone took their spots. He climbed onto the table, tripped and fell, and decided to settle for standing on his chair instead. He gave a hearty welcome speech for Ming-Na, and as soon as dinner was over, everyone filed outside.

Mrs. Delilah was putting people in different places. She grabbed Ming-Na by the arm and placed her in the middle of her new foster siblings. “Almost forgot the camera!” she chided herself cheerfully.

She returned with a Polaroid camera. Mrs. Delilah took a picture of all fifteen (sixteen counting Mr. Alexander) and printed the picture. She took Ming-Na inside while the others followed. Handing her a pencil, Mrs. Delilah instructed Ming-Na to write everyone’s name on the back. Slowly and carefully, Ming-Na wrote Mr. Alexander, Luisa, Rosie, Aaron, Tommie, Jamie, Shea, Holly, Christian, Rowan, Mia, Mary, Miriam, Eric, and me, 2018.



Eyes by Melanie Myers

The Tear by Melanie Myers

Visitor From Heaven by Melanie Myers

Another Beauty by Melanie Myers 

 My Letter, My Story, My Voice

by Raiyne B.


Dear World,

My name is Ara Amaya Carson, and this is my story. My story of ups and downs, sharp, unexpected turns, bright and dark moments, and so much more. This is where I reveal everything about me and my life so not only are questions others have but the ones I have are answered.


January 28th, 2018

I suppose it’s time to truly begin my story (it has been two weeks). The easiest thing to start with is my name. ‘Ara’ is of Greek origin and means “goddess of destruction”, which it makes sense, seeing as I break everything I come in contact with. Amaya is of Japanese origin and means “night right”, that probably came from the rainy night on which I was born. My parents didn’t know what Ara meant, they just liked the name, but it suits me, except for the “goddess” part.

Next, my hometown. The town of Aldosa--in Ohio--is where I call home. Aldosa was decently small and by that, I mean small enough to where we don’t get many tourists but big enough to where I don’t feel suffocated. It was a nice southern town, almost everyone knew everyone. Luckily for me, there was a wooded area where I could hide from humanity, and that is where I write this letter.

I believe I have given enough information for today. Enough for you to understand the simple stuff of my life.


January 30th, 2018

It seems that in my rush to get home before dark with enough information to leave off for the 28th I forgot to mention my birthday, so why not start with that.

My birthday is December 2oth, not a very important day. The only interesting thing to happen on my birthday was that the world was supposed to end one year, but that didn’t happen, so here we are.

Moving on, here is where it gets a bit more interesting. My family is more fascinating than anything about me, which is why I am going to talk about them for a bit.

In my family, I have divorced parents, two sisters, three brothers, and more than ten cousins. My oldest brother wanted to go into the military, but due to his medication, he was unable. Then, there is my older sister, who got pregnant before finishing college (she wanted to wait until after she graduated), but everyone makes mistakes, some worse than others. The last one I can talk about is my little brother, who is adorable and lovable, that’s all I had for him. My other brother and sister, I don’t have much to talk about because I don’t see them.

Now, if you had met my family, you would be concerned, because we are all a bit crazy and wild, but that’s who we are. It’s nice to have a family who isn’t “normal” especially when you are truly out there.

Compared to the other day, this is a lot, so I believe this is where I should leave off. Always wondering what is going to happen next is how you keep readers attached, right?


February 5th, 2018

I spent the past four days debating what two topics of my life to cover today: school, music, band, friends, health problems (mental and physical), and sexuality. All six, a major part of my development. If I wanted to drag this out as long as possible, I could just ignore it for a few days and debate longer.

Most authors don’t have to worry about things like sorting out how they are going to spill their secrets to the world, filled with a bunch of strangers. It’s weird. Most of my family doesn’t know about the things that are soon to be written. It’s a little strange how comfortable this currently is.

Now that I think about it, if I were to say this right out to the world, people would think I was crazy. They would lock me up in a mental hospital. This is just so peculiar because authors have conversations with themselves. Because it’s done on paper and not out loud, I guess it’s okay.


February 8th, 2018

After debating for three days, I finally decided to go with school and friends, because they are closely related. My friends mostly came from school because after moving to the small town, I only met people through school. My closest friend is Arianna, she’s like a sister to me, always helping with my problems and is always there for moral support. Hazel is another close friend who is always willing to give a hand whether it be for school or personal. My friends are really important to me, so much that I would die for them.

School is filled with so many things to do, and somehow, along the way, I managed to meet amazing people in those things. Band, Volunteer Club, and Writing Club have so many great people, especially band. Then, there’s gifted, which has amazing yet perplexing people. Band and gifted are considered the odd-balls of the school because they are carefree and have different trains of thought.

I met Arianna and Hazel through gifted, and Hazel was in the band. I knew immediately that I liked them and wouldn’t want to let go of them. As the years went on of me knowing them, our bonds got stronger.

Now, I suppose I should go into more detail on the two I am likely to die for. Arianna is a sweet oddball who loves music and writing, and no matter how weird she gets, I will always love her like a sister. Hazel is quiet and sweet who is musically and artistically gifted. Both of these girls always know what to say and how to solve any problem I have. And, again, I love them both like sisters.

February 10th, 2018

I decided that I would end on an uplifting note, so let’s delve into the dark stuff which includes health problems and my grandfather’s death. Some of my mental health problems stem from my grandfather’s death, so it makes sense to cover these two in one day.

My grandfather died on March 18th, 2010. Every year on that day I get upset. I don’t want to go to school, I don’t want to socialize, I just want to sit in my bedroom in the corner alone in the dark. He was my world because I spent most of my time at his house. We would swim, play games, color, do homework, and so much more. Then, suddenly I lost my world, and I was numb for the longest time, putting on a smile and pretending like everything was okay. It was difficult for me then, and it continues to be difficult for me now.

Let’s move onto health problems. To start off simple: I have injured my ankle and my knee in sports, not that I’m an athletic person. I have a disorder that makes me sick under certain circumstances, which some are related to my grandfather’s death. Then I have anxiety which always makes everything better. It’s just oh-so-fun to deal with anxiety. (Ha-ha, note the sarcasm).


February 15th, 2018

To start to ease into the easy-to-digest stuff, I think we should dive into a short day of explaining my sexuality.

It’s still controversial to have a sexuality other than heterosexual, and even more so if you identify other than heterosexual or homosexual. There are bisexuals, asexual, and possibly more. I identify as demi sexual, meaning I need a strong emotional connection to someone to have sexual feelings.

Now the other part some may not realize is that your romantic orientation may be different from your sexual orientation. My romantic orientation is biromantic, meaning I would date either a male or a female.

A great way to remember romantic and sexual is for romantic, you’re attracted to someone’s soul, and sexual is when you’re attracted to someone’s body/face.

There really isn’t much to go into on this topic and because I threw in my grandfather’s death, topics are uneven. I suppose this is where I leave off until the next day of writing.


February 20th, 2018

My final actual day of writing will cover, you probably guessed it, music and band. Now, both may seem like the same thing, but they provide different ways of development and help for me. The band helped me grow as a person, and music helped when through difficult times.

As said on February 8th, the band is filled with atypical people. Band kids bounce off the walls with unexpected answers and they always have some sort of inside joke. As for how the band helped me grow as a person, I used to be shy and quiet, not really knowing where I fit in. I wasn’t athletic, popular, or really artistic. To most, I was awkward and bizarre. I mean, gifted has students similar to those of band, but it was a small group of students so there wasn’t much personal growth I could go through.

When I first joined band, there were around three hundred students-possibly more, so there were more people that I had to socialize with in order to have a functioning band, and that’s where I grew. After being in the band for a few years, I came out of my shell more than what I had in gifted.

Regarding music, I grew up in a musically diverse home, so one day I may listen to classical and the next it may be rock. Due to the musical diversity, I was able to find all sorts of music to enjoy and express myself. I would even use music to help concentrate on work or make myself feel better. When writing, music is sometimes used to give me inspiration.

After this, I will only write one more time, and that is to say my final goodbyes and wrap everything up.


February 25th, 2018

Today is the last entry, a final goodbye and a wrap up of my story. No, I’m not going to do anything rash, but I’m just ending my story. I feel like I don’t need to say anything more, it’s as if my story has nothing more to be said.

My story will always go on, though, no matter what. More memories will be created, and I will uncover the hidden parts of myself I can’t see today. This is only the end of the beginning.


Until next time, Ara Amaya Carson.



 Almost Thirteen

by Kenley Mathis

I am almost thirteen. That’s thirteen years on this earth, one decade and about 4,745 days, and that’s enough math. The fact that I am growing scares me a little, even though it’s nothing to be afraid of. Anyhow, this whole growing up thing makes you realize so much. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to the days where “The Suite Life of Zack and Cody” would go on commercial break, and I would run to the bathroom, hoping my younger brother wouldn’t yell, “It’s on!” while I wasn’t in the room. Unfortunately, times aren’t so simple anymore.

Junior High is hard. I only started two months ago, but it’s a lot different than what I am used to. The teachers do not baby you like they did in elementary. Instead, they are stricter. Didn’t do your homework? There’s no “that’s okay, just don’t forget next time.” Now there’s, “That’s a zero for today.” The classwork is hard too, unless you really try to do well. Additionally, there are so many people now! I have made new friends and kept most old ones. Some people at Junior High are mean. You could be the nicest person on Earth, and they will still push you and say, “Move it!” rather than the traditional, “Excuse me.” It’s not that Junior High is bad, it is just different.

I used to expect my teenage years to be like something off of Disney Channel because that’s just what I grew up expecting. Now that I am actually approaching these years, I realize that it is nothing like the movies. You can hope and wish all you want, but those movies were fictional. Reality is different, and if you make the right choices and just live your life, I’m sure it’ll go fine. I could be wrong though because, you know, I’m twelve.



 Glass

by Dawson J. Whiteside

Glass starts out plain

Glass remains whole

It will be see-through

Until someone breaks, a hole.


Glass is broken by something, or someone

All of it shatters into many blades

Glass is picked up and thrown away

Glass is replaced and remade.


Glass can be rebuilt and recolored

Glass can be hard or soft

But once it breaks, it’s gone.

Glass can no longer feel pain.



Sunshine

by Dawson J. Whiteside

I wake up in the morning, and look out the window

A bright light beams through the room

I love the way you shimmer and glow

Your beauty takes away all of my gloom


Your brightness combined with the sky’s blue

When you rise and set there’s a calming pink

You’re always there throughout the day

But in the end, you go away


The sun sets down, fading from the sky

You’re gone for long, and I wonder why

Please tell me you’ll come back

Without you, my world is black



 Cake by Farrin Charlot

 Hero

by Jessie Zaffron

Hero- a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities

Walk down the shattered street

Where people talk but never meet

While you stand above it all

Watching as hope starts to fall

Don’t be who you’re not meant to be

But why can’t anybody see

See that we are crumbling

The foundation is rumbling

The hypocrites of this world

Go tell us never discriminate

But others fill this world with hate

Children start to make fun

Thinking it’s a game, but tears start to run

The roads are filled with crushed dreams

But on the outside that’s not how it seems

The world is seen through tinted glass

Where people don’t look just walk past

This world needs a hero

But is the job too hard?

Will this life stay in shards?

A hero

Will no one step up?

Will this world erupt?

A hero to call our own