"If you cannot be a poet, be the poem." - David Carradine
Letter Written After a Psychotic Break on a Greyhound Bus to New York
There is a stain on my wrist.
No matter how much water I drink
or much I kiss you.
It is stuck there like a spot of dirt on the back of an animal.
Mornings are the easiest.
I sit in a dark alley
which is lit up by the sun, sort of.
I see you in the reflections from the windows.
I hallucinate that there are flowers everywhere,
even on the trees
even dandelions in the lawn,
springing up strong and thickly like something indestructible.
It's winter here. I'm sick of being scared.
The sky is purple. The streetlights are on.
I sit upright in a cocoon.
This is summer. This is winter. Here and there
scattered about, are the seasons
and the raindrops. Black cats jump at each one.
Doctors are at the wall
listening with stethoscopes to the beating heart of the clouds.
We are all trapped except you can leave.
You can climb well
excellently in fact
while my feet are smooth. My feet are bricks.
I have no traction on the ground or on the wall.
I talk to God on the television
which is the only punctual thing.
At 8 there is somebody cooking a meal
I don't want at all.
There is an injection I don't want at all.
Each pill has a little layer of black gel around it.
I chew through the whole bottle with a fever the whole time.
My temperature reads four hundred and seven
then 56.
Are the birds outside my window real
is the boy who touched my hand real?
Are the honeycomb patterned seats you
wrapped up in old torn cloth?
No matter how much water I drink
or much I kiss you.
It is stuck there like a spot of dirt on the back of an animal.
Mornings are the easiest.
I sit in a dark alley
which is lit up by the sun, sort of.
I see you in the reflections from the windows.
I hallucinate that there are flowers everywhere,
even on the trees
even dandelions in the lawn,
springing up strong and thickly like something indestructible.
It's winter here. I'm sick of being scared.
The sky is purple. The streetlights are on.
I sit upright in a cocoon.
This is summer. This is winter. Here and there
scattered about, are the seasons
and the raindrops. Black cats jump at each one.
Doctors are at the wall
listening with stethoscopes to the beating heart of the clouds.
We are all trapped except you can leave.
You can climb well
excellently in fact
while my feet are smooth. My feet are bricks.
I have no traction on the ground or on the wall.
I talk to God on the television
which is the only punctual thing.
At 8 there is somebody cooking a meal
I don't want at all.
There is an injection I don't want at all.
Each pill has a little layer of black gel around it.
I chew through the whole bottle with a fever the whole time.
My temperature reads four hundred and seven
then 56.
Are the birds outside my window real
is the boy who touched my hand real?
Are the honeycomb patterned seats you
wrapped up in old torn cloth?
The Partially Glorious Activism of a Partially Indigenous Girl
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Red
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Teddy
By: Madison Affsa
My teddy bear towers over me like a skyscraper, I almost didn't recognize him until I saw the friendship bracelet dangling off his paw in front of my face. I whisper to myself, “Teddy?” I weezle my way behind him, watching Teddy violently fight off a red blur. I was still half awake I couldn't make out what Teddy was fighting. I ask myself, is this a dream why is Teddy huge and whats the red blur with laser eyes doing in my room?
Teddy was protecting me from the demands of the world I couldn't believe it, all these years I imagined Teddy being alive and playing with me. And now he is and he shields me, I wonder if this always happens when I go to sleep.
Teddy was protecting me from the demands of the world I couldn't believe it, all these years I imagined Teddy being alive and playing with me. And now he is and he shields me, I wonder if this always happens when I go to sleep.
Dome in the Sea
By: Gaming
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Often in my life I find myself
In a dome at the bottom of the sea Inside, a jungle with with verdant health The population, me I can choose to wander for hours and hours Picking the bushes bare Ignoring the fact that when the forest is scoured I must come up for air. For when I chance upon a wall in this prison of the deep A cold dread down my spine does crawl, A terror begins to creep Outside the dome lies aquatic abyss I know not how far it goes I stay inside with comfort and bliss The baobab and rose. I know one day I must learn to swim These freezing, rolling tides To reach the surface my chance is slim, But the future there resides. For deep within myself I know The reason I am here Beneath the sea, I built this dome, The ocean filled by fear. I crafted the lovely interior Put adversity outside So that whenever I feel inferior, I can run to the jungle and hide. But now I write from upon the shore I know now who I am, For it was that day the dome I tore. I held my breath and swam. |
What is happiness?
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Hummingbird
By: Madison Affsa
I believe the Universal Human Experience is a hummingbird. When I image a hummingbird I picture a beautiful bird that seeks our attention for a moment. Its funny that little things in life like a hummingbird will take your breath away and return it back leaving you speechless. I feel that human beings get glimpses of beauty in life as it could be a full bloom garden, the birth of a child, the relationship between people, people caring for others, forgiveness and even a hummingbird. What these have in common is that they create happiness and that is when a person sees beauty.
Everyone is guilty of getting caught up in the rushing world, and forgetting to stop and appreciate the little things. I know when I see a hummingbird, reality is shut off and I just watch the pretty bird suck the nectar out of flowers. Once the bird is satisfied with the amount of food it ate it then flies away. I am left thinking about the bird that I stood and admired for a few seconds of my life and just that little living creature brought joy to me. Those birds are talented little things, they fly all around and they give the most significant thing in the world, which is happiness.
I am extremely lucky to be surrounded in happiness everyday. When I was a little girl my parents would always tell me that I am lucky to have two best friends, which is my triple siblings Lexi and Kyle. All siblings argue once and awhile, including my siblings and I. My parents would tell us that we are very lucky to have each other. When I was little and my siblings and I fought my parents made us talk out our disagreements and then we would apologize and give each other hugs.
Sometimes people think that they are invisible and nothing bad could happen to them, but there is bad things that happen to people all the time. Selfishly we don't mean what we say most of the time, and in a split second your happiness, could be swept from beneath your feet and leave you on the ground lonely. Lexi and Kyle mean the world to me and I am forever thankful to have them always by my side. Hummingbirds remind me to live in the moment and enjoy the simple things in life and that our happiness lies within us. I will always remember the happiness I feel when I see a hummingbird.
Everyone is guilty of getting caught up in the rushing world, and forgetting to stop and appreciate the little things. I know when I see a hummingbird, reality is shut off and I just watch the pretty bird suck the nectar out of flowers. Once the bird is satisfied with the amount of food it ate it then flies away. I am left thinking about the bird that I stood and admired for a few seconds of my life and just that little living creature brought joy to me. Those birds are talented little things, they fly all around and they give the most significant thing in the world, which is happiness.
I am extremely lucky to be surrounded in happiness everyday. When I was a little girl my parents would always tell me that I am lucky to have two best friends, which is my triple siblings Lexi and Kyle. All siblings argue once and awhile, including my siblings and I. My parents would tell us that we are very lucky to have each other. When I was little and my siblings and I fought my parents made us talk out our disagreements and then we would apologize and give each other hugs.
Sometimes people think that they are invisible and nothing bad could happen to them, but there is bad things that happen to people all the time. Selfishly we don't mean what we say most of the time, and in a split second your happiness, could be swept from beneath your feet and leave you on the ground lonely. Lexi and Kyle mean the world to me and I am forever thankful to have them always by my side. Hummingbirds remind me to live in the moment and enjoy the simple things in life and that our happiness lies within us. I will always remember the happiness I feel when I see a hummingbird.
I Am Your Mirror
By: Kaylee Lindquist
Me, claiming my rites as to being a creature of god, choose to have and obtain traditions within my own rituals.
I walk among the obscure unknowingly, I pray atop their territory, bathing in my own ignorance.
I move in motions and need for nothing.
I have been told that there will be a day that arrives where i am forced to witness the brutality of
Nature.
the deep amber liquid rushing from the scruff of a vulture, containing no life left to withstand its
own consumption, provided so intensely by the same species.
I dream of wanting the unharnessed Knowledge this scavenger possesses, manifesting it into
the ability to purge its self of morality and revert to the most simple state of being.
To no longer look towards the ruffled grey feathers of god, but to be cast amidst their ever
expanding shadow.
Free from the commandments of our father
I dream of this heavy , relentless burden of desire upon my reality
But for now I wait
Wanting of nothing
I walk among the obscure unknowingly, I pray atop their territory, bathing in my own ignorance.
I move in motions and need for nothing.
I have been told that there will be a day that arrives where i am forced to witness the brutality of
Nature.
the deep amber liquid rushing from the scruff of a vulture, containing no life left to withstand its
own consumption, provided so intensely by the same species.
I dream of wanting the unharnessed Knowledge this scavenger possesses, manifesting it into
the ability to purge its self of morality and revert to the most simple state of being.
To no longer look towards the ruffled grey feathers of god, but to be cast amidst their ever
expanding shadow.
Free from the commandments of our father
I dream of this heavy , relentless burden of desire upon my reality
But for now I wait
Wanting of nothing
Untitled
By: John Kenney
At the end of the third millennium, there was a young man living alone on a small planet orbiting a distant star. His parents had called him Johnny when they were alive, and although Johnny didn’t know it, he was the last human in the universe. Johnny knew he was alone, he just didn’t understand the profound weight that he carried on his shoulders. Nobody had ever told him about what had come before. Nobody ever told him about the rise and fall of the Galactic Empire. Nobody had ever told him about how we humans had conquered the distant reaches of the galaxy, about the great explorers who had set off into the dark, into the ultimate unknown and had come back laughing. He never stood witness to the prosperity of human civilization, to the charm and the chaos of it all. Nobody ever told him about all the beautiful things we made, nor about all the terrible things we did to each other.
Nobody ever told him about Earth.
Earth! If only he could have seen her just once. The planet he lived on was a feeble imitation of Earth. Just close enough that he could survive, but with none of what made Earth special. It was cold and barren. The air was thin. He lived in a small structure his grandparents had built when they crash landed on this desolate world.
When the Galactic Empire collapsed, humanity was scattered across the stars. One by one, individual populations dwindled and went extinct, each for their own reasons. When Johnny was born, there were 37 humans left. By the time his parents died, there were 5. These last 5 were hundreds of thousands of lightyears apart, and Johnny had no way of knowing when the four others died, no way of knowing that they had ever existed in the first place.
One day, when Johnny was tending to his small farm, he saw something fall out of the sky. It was a long metallic object, and it lay in a newly formed crater next to his house. Johnny marveled over it for a long time, particularly over the golden disc covered in strange hieroglyphics mounted on its side.
Eventually, he realized one of the symbols was a diagram of the disc itself. He dragged the needle over and placed it somewhere in the middle. The record began to spin, and as it spun it made a frenzied, rhythmic noise. Johnny watched in awe. A few seconds later, a man’s voice rang out:
Well, deep down in Louisiana, close to New Orleans
Way back up in the woods, among the evergreens
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well
But he could play a guitar just like a-ringin’ a bell
Go! Go!
Johnny didn’t understand the language that the man was singing, but it didn’t matter. He was singing to him! And he understood the song just as well as any english speaker would have. He threw his head back and laughed, and he danced to the music, and he cried while listening to the speeches of his ancestors. When the record ended, he played it again. Those last two remnants of Earth were reunited in a field unimaginably far from the place they had come from.
And when the last man in the universe died, he wasn’t alone.
Nobody ever told him about Earth.
Earth! If only he could have seen her just once. The planet he lived on was a feeble imitation of Earth. Just close enough that he could survive, but with none of what made Earth special. It was cold and barren. The air was thin. He lived in a small structure his grandparents had built when they crash landed on this desolate world.
When the Galactic Empire collapsed, humanity was scattered across the stars. One by one, individual populations dwindled and went extinct, each for their own reasons. When Johnny was born, there were 37 humans left. By the time his parents died, there were 5. These last 5 were hundreds of thousands of lightyears apart, and Johnny had no way of knowing when the four others died, no way of knowing that they had ever existed in the first place.
One day, when Johnny was tending to his small farm, he saw something fall out of the sky. It was a long metallic object, and it lay in a newly formed crater next to his house. Johnny marveled over it for a long time, particularly over the golden disc covered in strange hieroglyphics mounted on its side.
Eventually, he realized one of the symbols was a diagram of the disc itself. He dragged the needle over and placed it somewhere in the middle. The record began to spin, and as it spun it made a frenzied, rhythmic noise. Johnny watched in awe. A few seconds later, a man’s voice rang out:
Well, deep down in Louisiana, close to New Orleans
Way back up in the woods, among the evergreens
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well
But he could play a guitar just like a-ringin’ a bell
Go! Go!
Johnny didn’t understand the language that the man was singing, but it didn’t matter. He was singing to him! And he understood the song just as well as any english speaker would have. He threw his head back and laughed, and he danced to the music, and he cried while listening to the speeches of his ancestors. When the record ended, he played it again. Those last two remnants of Earth were reunited in a field unimaginably far from the place they had come from.
And when the last man in the universe died, he wasn’t alone.
Sleep
By: Angelique Michonski
Oh how I miss you sleep.
I miss you're endless dreams that allow me through lengthy corridors and hallways.
Traveling from room to room.
Or ghostly landscapes
With stretches of bleak landscapes.
I know well of a desolate mountain
I climbed, and an unhappy graveyard where
I wandered upon old memories or thoughts that now follow me.
But as I awake from my endless dream,
I soon forgot the memories lodged in my head.
Tucked away,
never to be found.
I miss you're endless dreams that allow me through lengthy corridors and hallways.
Traveling from room to room.
Or ghostly landscapes
With stretches of bleak landscapes.
I know well of a desolate mountain
I climbed, and an unhappy graveyard where
I wandered upon old memories or thoughts that now follow me.
But as I awake from my endless dream,
I soon forgot the memories lodged in my head.
Tucked away,
never to be found.
Your Door
By: Lindsay Mae Webber
You sit at the end of a hallway. On the other end, there’s a painted wooden door. The door looks perfect. Specifically made for you. Your favorite color. Your style. Everything about it seems so wonderful.
However, the nervousness of what’s on the other side of the door plagues your mind. Is it dangerous? Will you be alone? How long will you be exploring that side?
All your life you’ve been preparing to enter this door, but now that you’ve reached it, you wonder if this was the right choice. It makes you happy. Your friends and family agree that it is the right choice but they’ve all entered different doors. When are you going to see them again? How far away is this door from them? You miss them.
Gathering your courage, you stand up. You’re walking towards the biggest decision of your life. Sooner or later you’re either gonna succeed or fail. Step by step, you’re getting faster. Step by step, you’re gaining and losing the people close to you. Step by step, you’re experiencing your childhood. Step by step, you’re becoming an adult.
Until…
You’ve reached your door. Few people remain standing with you. Although it’s a lot less than before, you’re glad it’s them and you love them with your whole heart. These people help you open the door to your adult life. You join hands and walk through your door.
Walking through, you breathe in the fresh air.
You are okay.
You are happy.
You are loved.
I love you.
I am you.
We will be successful and live a great life.
Thank you.
However, the nervousness of what’s on the other side of the door plagues your mind. Is it dangerous? Will you be alone? How long will you be exploring that side?
All your life you’ve been preparing to enter this door, but now that you’ve reached it, you wonder if this was the right choice. It makes you happy. Your friends and family agree that it is the right choice but they’ve all entered different doors. When are you going to see them again? How far away is this door from them? You miss them.
Gathering your courage, you stand up. You’re walking towards the biggest decision of your life. Sooner or later you’re either gonna succeed or fail. Step by step, you’re getting faster. Step by step, you’re gaining and losing the people close to you. Step by step, you’re experiencing your childhood. Step by step, you’re becoming an adult.
Until…
You’ve reached your door. Few people remain standing with you. Although it’s a lot less than before, you’re glad it’s them and you love them with your whole heart. These people help you open the door to your adult life. You join hands and walk through your door.
Walking through, you breathe in the fresh air.
You are okay.
You are happy.
You are loved.
I love you.
I am you.
We will be successful and live a great life.
Thank you.
What am I?
By: Alexandra Godfrey
I am a mystical, exceptional force,
With an otherworldly power,
That some wish to enforce.
Though some people cowered,
With a simple touch from me,
Others feel to be empowered,
But people see what they wish to see.
I make the glitter fall from a fairy’s wand,
And a shimmer from a wizard’s fingers.
I hold a special bond,
That sometimes lingers
Between reality and the imagination.
What am I, you may ask,
But the real question may be for the nation,
For a world that always wants to unmask,
The science behind me.
So now I ask, ask yourself, do I believe in magic?
With an otherworldly power,
That some wish to enforce.
Though some people cowered,
With a simple touch from me,
Others feel to be empowered,
But people see what they wish to see.
I make the glitter fall from a fairy’s wand,
And a shimmer from a wizard’s fingers.
I hold a special bond,
That sometimes lingers
Between reality and the imagination.
What am I, you may ask,
But the real question may be for the nation,
For a world that always wants to unmask,
The science behind me.
So now I ask, ask yourself, do I believe in magic?
Wake
By: Kaleigh Lizotte
awakening in itself is a feat
to open one's eyes towards the sun is what seldom can achieve in the morning heat heavy souls and weak knees leave a cut upon the bones which holds our deepest truth scarred limbs do not aid in trying to fight wretched thoughts or our greatest fears in sooth but do not lose sight of the morning light dew and grass abloom motivate the heart
to see the best in the smallest of things existing might seem like the hardest part yet, one’s life is sacred for all it brings
be gentle but fierce til the very end
the suns not an enemy but a friend
to open one's eyes towards the sun is what seldom can achieve in the morning heat heavy souls and weak knees leave a cut upon the bones which holds our deepest truth scarred limbs do not aid in trying to fight wretched thoughts or our greatest fears in sooth but do not lose sight of the morning light dew and grass abloom motivate the heart
to see the best in the smallest of things existing might seem like the hardest part yet, one’s life is sacred for all it brings
be gentle but fierce til the very end
the suns not an enemy but a friend
Blind
By: Gabriel R Skidmore
“I brought something to eat, my love.”
“Thank you, darling.” The voice said, taking the morsel he held out.
“It was a long day without you, my love.” He sighed, sitting against their other and sprawling out in their embrace.
“I’m sorry, darling.” They caressed their lovers head, thick tendrils stroking his head and tentacles running through his hair. “I love you, darling.” It said.
“Thank you, darling.” The voice said, taking the morsel he held out.
“It was a long day without you, my love.” He sighed, sitting against their other and sprawling out in their embrace.
“I’m sorry, darling.” They caressed their lovers head, thick tendrils stroking his head and tentacles running through his hair. “I love you, darling.” It said.
Universal Human Experience
By Ashley Lindquist
If someone had told me 5 years ago that I would be living the life I am, I wouldn’t believe them. The opportunities that I have been given and the experiences I have been able to encounter have been quite remarkable. I have wonderful people in my life, am part of an award winning dance team, and I take pride in the grades I have earned. Next June, I will be able to have an incredible experience; going to the Dominican on a service trip. My personal experiences have been wonderful, and I am very fortunate for those. But others may not be so fortunate.
When you look up “Universal Human Experience” in Google, it says, “It is an experience that people all around the world can share.” Personally, I disagree with this statement. There are only 2 experiences all people around the world can share: the fact that we are all born, and the fact that we will all die. We’re all born differently, and we will all die differently, but the simple fact of a human being born then dying is what we all share. Every human on this earth has a different home, life, different passions, different areas of excellence. No one in this room is the same as someone else. Sure, you may share a simple experience, like going camping, or the fact that we all live in Massachusetts, but no one is the same. Humans being unique is what guides the world in the direction it takes.
While reading Night, I could never connect to Elie. Never in my life have I come in contact with such a brutal experience. Elie went through a situation I could never believe happening to anyone. While going through the experience of Concentration Camps, Elie wrote in his memoir, “I pinched myself: Was I still alive? Was I awake? How was it possible that men, women, and children were being burned and that the world kept silent? No. All this would not be real. A nightmare perhaps … Soon I would wake up with a start, my heart pounding, and find that I was back in the room of my childhood, with my books …” (Wiesel, 32). I have yet to experience a situation, and hopefully I never do, where I have to physically pinch myself because I want to believe that something was a dream. You don’t realize such experiences could exist until you read about them or watch videos about what happened. With the life I am fortunate enough to have today, the experiences Elie underwent seem unreal, unimaginable to me. To try and comprehend what all of those people had to deal with was extremely hard for me. When I think about what is happening overseas today, I can’t imagine any of it happening in Plymouth. One day, you’re living happily in your home, and the next everything's gone, destroyed. You’ve lost everything and now you’re living in piles of cement and wood; what used to be your home. Trying to imagine that happening anywhere in the United States is simply unimaginable.
I have overcome my own challenges and my own battles over the years. Though big to me, they would seem much smaller to others who have experienced more, lived through more. I’m only 15 years old, still a teenager, as we all are, but everyone in this room has experienced things I haven’t. My struggles could be your strong points, and my fears could be your favorite things. Everyone is unique and everyone’s Universal Human Experience is much different than others.
When you look up “Universal Human Experience” in Google, it says, “It is an experience that people all around the world can share.” Personally, I disagree with this statement. There are only 2 experiences all people around the world can share: the fact that we are all born, and the fact that we will all die. We’re all born differently, and we will all die differently, but the simple fact of a human being born then dying is what we all share. Every human on this earth has a different home, life, different passions, different areas of excellence. No one in this room is the same as someone else. Sure, you may share a simple experience, like going camping, or the fact that we all live in Massachusetts, but no one is the same. Humans being unique is what guides the world in the direction it takes.
While reading Night, I could never connect to Elie. Never in my life have I come in contact with such a brutal experience. Elie went through a situation I could never believe happening to anyone. While going through the experience of Concentration Camps, Elie wrote in his memoir, “I pinched myself: Was I still alive? Was I awake? How was it possible that men, women, and children were being burned and that the world kept silent? No. All this would not be real. A nightmare perhaps … Soon I would wake up with a start, my heart pounding, and find that I was back in the room of my childhood, with my books …” (Wiesel, 32). I have yet to experience a situation, and hopefully I never do, where I have to physically pinch myself because I want to believe that something was a dream. You don’t realize such experiences could exist until you read about them or watch videos about what happened. With the life I am fortunate enough to have today, the experiences Elie underwent seem unreal, unimaginable to me. To try and comprehend what all of those people had to deal with was extremely hard for me. When I think about what is happening overseas today, I can’t imagine any of it happening in Plymouth. One day, you’re living happily in your home, and the next everything's gone, destroyed. You’ve lost everything and now you’re living in piles of cement and wood; what used to be your home. Trying to imagine that happening anywhere in the United States is simply unimaginable.
I have overcome my own challenges and my own battles over the years. Though big to me, they would seem much smaller to others who have experienced more, lived through more. I’m only 15 years old, still a teenager, as we all are, but everyone in this room has experienced things I haven’t. My struggles could be your strong points, and my fears could be your favorite things. Everyone is unique and everyone’s Universal Human Experience is much different than others.
Ataraxia
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Caterpillar Sticks
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Clipped Wings
By Katie Rhodes
When I was seven years old, I stole twenty dollars from my older brother. I bought a notebook, a pen, and gum. I wrote all the things I wanted to do but I knew they would never happen.
At sixteen, I used my mom’s car, but I never went to driver’s ed. Yet, I still somehow managed to make the smoothest turns on the most twisted roads around town. Many of the kids at school never believed me.
My twenty-third birthday came along. I became a getaway driver for the most infamous bank robbers in the city; the Nighthawks. With them, I knew I would be able to achieve my lifetime goals. Our income was tremendous, and I couldn’t have asked for more money than we were making. Yet… I always asked for more.
The Nighthawks were cunning, deceitful, and witty. Their leader always wore a mask that covered half of their face. Many didn’t know if they were male or female; I called them Talon.
One day, Talon’s mask came off.
The Nighthawks had me drive them to a local jewelry store to rob diamonds and gold. Again. I couldn’t complain or reject, considering they pay me at the end of the day. I dropped the Hawks off, and Talon turned around and saluted me at they snuck around to the back. As usual, I drove a couple of laps until I got the call from Sparrow, the youngest member of the Nighthawks.
“We got the gems, get your ass down here!” he exclaimed over the phone. I made a sound of reply, whipping the car around and speeding down to the store. The Hawks were rushing out as I pulled up. Sparrow and our buff-bird, Eagle, loaded up the loot. Talon and the brains of the group, Noct, loaded themselves into the back of the car. Sparrow rolled into the trunk and Eagle joined me up front as the cops began to turn the corner towards the store. Immediately, I began speeding away.
It took me a mere ten minutes to lose them, and the Hawks and I returned to the base. Noct took the loot and began to value it while the rest of the gang kicked back and relaxed for the rest of the day. Sparrow and I took the time to play some Fortnite on our stolen PS4, and Eagle watched, amused by our prowess. I felt one massive hand placed on my shoulder and the other ruffled my dirty blonde locks of straw upon my head.
“You did good today, Jason,” he said in his deep, bass-like voice. I looked up at him for a moment, smiling at him before turning back to the game.
“Thanks, Eagle,” I replied, a warm feeling filling my chest. I felt more love within the Hawks’s Nest than I did anywhere else with other people; with the Hawks, I felt at home.
Unfortunately, our nest was soon the most dangerous place for us to be. We heard a loud banging on the large sliding door that we used as the entrance to the base. Sparrow and I immediately shut off the PS4. I left Sparrow to start gathering up all our stolen gaming consoles and games. I snagged all my belongings and hauled them into the trunk of the getaway car as Noct and Eagle were doing the same. Talon stayed calm and collected as they threw their belongings into the trunk. She then proceeded to step into the backseat with Noct. Eagle was already in the passenger seat and we continued to wait on Sparrow. I saw his small figure rushing over with the cases of consoles and games. He rushed, placing them into the trunk and rolling into the trunk again. How the kid didn’t get traumatized by being in such a small space is a mystery. I slammed the trunk shut and hauled ass to get into the driver’s seat. Starting the car, I began to pull out of the back entrance of the Nest.
It was only then when I had realized that I had forgotten my notebook with all my dreams in it. I stalled the car and hopped out, rushing towards the small book on the ground of the warehouse. I gathered it in my arms, and ran back as the cops had just broken through the first entrance. I was hasty as I pulled myself back into the getaway vehicle and began driving out and away from the Nest.
I got backhanded once we were far enough away from the base.
“What the hell were you thinking?!” Talon roared from the backseat. “You put all us in danger of getting jailed for some stupid notebook?”
“You hold your tongue, Talon, or else you lose a getaway driver…” I murmured, trying to hold in my rage. Nobody had yet had the audacity to insult my notebook.
“Fair enough,” Talon replied, making me break and putting the getaway vehicle into park. They got out, walked over to the driver’s door and opened it. I was pulled forcefully from the car. Talon threw me out before sitting in the seat I was in and beginning to speed away.
I was alone for three weeks. I lived in a homemade shelter in the woods, feeding off of the local wildlife; squirrels and whatnot. One day, I was hunting and heard a branch break behind me. I whipped around to find…
“Sparrow..?” I inquired, staring at the young boy in front of me. His black wavy locks were matted with blood and cuts and bruises all over his body.
“Talon… crashed…” Sparrow told me, out of breath and losing a lot of blood. I was in shock, but I didn’t hesitate. I heaved the young boy’s form onto my shoulder and follow the track of blood his wounds had left. I kept following until I got out to an abandoned road. The car had flipped onto its hood, the windows shattered. Eagle and Noct were already standing outside of the wreck, tending to their own wounds. When they saw me approach with Sparrow, Noct removed his glasses for a moment. He readjusted them, trying to confirm it was me.
“Holy hell, it’s Jason…” Eagle muttered, rushing over to take Sparrow off my shoulder and lay him on the ground. Before I could say anything, he embraced me with all his might, practically crushing my form. When he realized how hard he was hugging me, he let go, and I saw tears of joy rushing down his face.
“He deserves his bird name after surviving for three weeks in the woods,” Noct stated. He approached me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Talon would be proud."
I smiled for a brief moment, until I realized that Talon was nowhere in sight.
“Wait, wher-” I started to ask, looking around for the familiar form of the Nighthawk leader. The only person I saw was a shadowy person in the distance. I squinted, looking at them from a distance. I almost pulled my pistol, which thankfully still had a full mag in it, but Eagle and Noct both struggled to lower my arm. As the figure got closer, I saw the mask in one hand and the field med kit in the other, the famous SMG on their back. I also saw the better exposed chest area, now much fuller than before; I saw the curves, the long lashes, the full lips. I saw a busted binder on the ground next to the car, and all the pieces clicked together.
“Talon…?” I said in shock and confusion. All she did was walk past me and kneel next to Sparrow. Talon had a fair number of untreated wounds, but I knew the gang's common sense.
Sparrow's well-being comes first.
The rest of us all walked over to spectate the treatment.
“Alex…” Sparrow whispered through his pain, grimacing. Talon shushed him, placing a gentle hand on his face.
“You’ll be alright, little bro…” the now-named Talon, Alex whispered. She worked with haste with the open wounds, picking out pieces of broken glass and shrapnel. Each wound she cleaned was wrapped with gauze.
Once Sparrow was all patched up, she had Eagle and Noct watch over him. She grabbed me roughly by the arm and dragged me the opposite direction. I followed, not wanting to get killed by her, and now I couldn’t hit her because I knew Talon was a she.
She stopped in the middle of the road and shoved me in the chest, crossing her arms afterwards. It was almost as if she was… vulnerable.
“You’re such a dodo…” she muttered under her breath.
“Please don’t tell me that’s my bird nam-” I started, but she interrupted me.
“I thought you were dead! We went out searching for you every single day we got the chance! We haven’t been able to do any heists without you, dammit!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking, and I soon realized she was crying.
“I would’ve stayed if I wasn’t thrown out of the car and abandoned on the side of the road,” I stated plainly. I didn't want to yell at her. Her breath quivered through her tears.
“You’re right, Jason… I’m sorry,” she murmured. I smiled faintly at her.
“I’ll come back,” I said. She looked at me and smiled softly at first, but it widened every moment after I had spoke. “If I get a badass bird name.”
Talon scoffed at me.
“Okay, Finch.”
“...Really?”
“What else do you want from me?”
“Something fast.”
“I’m not gonna call you fucking roadrunner, it’s too lame.”
“Why not Osprey?”
Alex thought on it for a moment.
“Fine.”
Her and I began our trek back to the crash site. On the way, she stopped me, grabbing my shoulder forcefully to turn her towards me. I tilted my head in confusion until she gently placed her lips against mine. I was… speechless.
“Wh… wh-” I started to stutter, but she punched me in the stomach before I could say another word. She continued walking, and I followed, clutching my stomach in pain.
Eagle and Noct guessed what had happened and began chuckling as I walked back.
“Osprey…” I muttered, walking up to them, raising one fist in sarcastic celebration.
“Talon has always had a fascination with osprey,” Noct told me, looking something up on his laptop.
“No wonder she let you keep the name,” Eagle commented, chuckling.
“What do you mean…?” I inquired.
“She had two reasons for recruiting you," Eagle stated. "Your getaway driving, and because she likes you."
My heart dropped (or soared, I couldn't tell).
"She... likes me?" I repeated, almost in disbelief.
"Yep," Noct replied, tapping away at the keys of his laptop.
Another lifetime goal completed, alongside "Make a living" and "Become a professional driver."
I pulled my journal and pen from my pocket, opening to the page designated for goals, and I checked off another box.
"Fall in love."
At sixteen, I used my mom’s car, but I never went to driver’s ed. Yet, I still somehow managed to make the smoothest turns on the most twisted roads around town. Many of the kids at school never believed me.
My twenty-third birthday came along. I became a getaway driver for the most infamous bank robbers in the city; the Nighthawks. With them, I knew I would be able to achieve my lifetime goals. Our income was tremendous, and I couldn’t have asked for more money than we were making. Yet… I always asked for more.
The Nighthawks were cunning, deceitful, and witty. Their leader always wore a mask that covered half of their face. Many didn’t know if they were male or female; I called them Talon.
One day, Talon’s mask came off.
The Nighthawks had me drive them to a local jewelry store to rob diamonds and gold. Again. I couldn’t complain or reject, considering they pay me at the end of the day. I dropped the Hawks off, and Talon turned around and saluted me at they snuck around to the back. As usual, I drove a couple of laps until I got the call from Sparrow, the youngest member of the Nighthawks.
“We got the gems, get your ass down here!” he exclaimed over the phone. I made a sound of reply, whipping the car around and speeding down to the store. The Hawks were rushing out as I pulled up. Sparrow and our buff-bird, Eagle, loaded up the loot. Talon and the brains of the group, Noct, loaded themselves into the back of the car. Sparrow rolled into the trunk and Eagle joined me up front as the cops began to turn the corner towards the store. Immediately, I began speeding away.
It took me a mere ten minutes to lose them, and the Hawks and I returned to the base. Noct took the loot and began to value it while the rest of the gang kicked back and relaxed for the rest of the day. Sparrow and I took the time to play some Fortnite on our stolen PS4, and Eagle watched, amused by our prowess. I felt one massive hand placed on my shoulder and the other ruffled my dirty blonde locks of straw upon my head.
“You did good today, Jason,” he said in his deep, bass-like voice. I looked up at him for a moment, smiling at him before turning back to the game.
“Thanks, Eagle,” I replied, a warm feeling filling my chest. I felt more love within the Hawks’s Nest than I did anywhere else with other people; with the Hawks, I felt at home.
Unfortunately, our nest was soon the most dangerous place for us to be. We heard a loud banging on the large sliding door that we used as the entrance to the base. Sparrow and I immediately shut off the PS4. I left Sparrow to start gathering up all our stolen gaming consoles and games. I snagged all my belongings and hauled them into the trunk of the getaway car as Noct and Eagle were doing the same. Talon stayed calm and collected as they threw their belongings into the trunk. She then proceeded to step into the backseat with Noct. Eagle was already in the passenger seat and we continued to wait on Sparrow. I saw his small figure rushing over with the cases of consoles and games. He rushed, placing them into the trunk and rolling into the trunk again. How the kid didn’t get traumatized by being in such a small space is a mystery. I slammed the trunk shut and hauled ass to get into the driver’s seat. Starting the car, I began to pull out of the back entrance of the Nest.
It was only then when I had realized that I had forgotten my notebook with all my dreams in it. I stalled the car and hopped out, rushing towards the small book on the ground of the warehouse. I gathered it in my arms, and ran back as the cops had just broken through the first entrance. I was hasty as I pulled myself back into the getaway vehicle and began driving out and away from the Nest.
I got backhanded once we were far enough away from the base.
“What the hell were you thinking?!” Talon roared from the backseat. “You put all us in danger of getting jailed for some stupid notebook?”
“You hold your tongue, Talon, or else you lose a getaway driver…” I murmured, trying to hold in my rage. Nobody had yet had the audacity to insult my notebook.
“Fair enough,” Talon replied, making me break and putting the getaway vehicle into park. They got out, walked over to the driver’s door and opened it. I was pulled forcefully from the car. Talon threw me out before sitting in the seat I was in and beginning to speed away.
I was alone for three weeks. I lived in a homemade shelter in the woods, feeding off of the local wildlife; squirrels and whatnot. One day, I was hunting and heard a branch break behind me. I whipped around to find…
“Sparrow..?” I inquired, staring at the young boy in front of me. His black wavy locks were matted with blood and cuts and bruises all over his body.
“Talon… crashed…” Sparrow told me, out of breath and losing a lot of blood. I was in shock, but I didn’t hesitate. I heaved the young boy’s form onto my shoulder and follow the track of blood his wounds had left. I kept following until I got out to an abandoned road. The car had flipped onto its hood, the windows shattered. Eagle and Noct were already standing outside of the wreck, tending to their own wounds. When they saw me approach with Sparrow, Noct removed his glasses for a moment. He readjusted them, trying to confirm it was me.
“Holy hell, it’s Jason…” Eagle muttered, rushing over to take Sparrow off my shoulder and lay him on the ground. Before I could say anything, he embraced me with all his might, practically crushing my form. When he realized how hard he was hugging me, he let go, and I saw tears of joy rushing down his face.
“He deserves his bird name after surviving for three weeks in the woods,” Noct stated. He approached me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Talon would be proud."
I smiled for a brief moment, until I realized that Talon was nowhere in sight.
“Wait, wher-” I started to ask, looking around for the familiar form of the Nighthawk leader. The only person I saw was a shadowy person in the distance. I squinted, looking at them from a distance. I almost pulled my pistol, which thankfully still had a full mag in it, but Eagle and Noct both struggled to lower my arm. As the figure got closer, I saw the mask in one hand and the field med kit in the other, the famous SMG on their back. I also saw the better exposed chest area, now much fuller than before; I saw the curves, the long lashes, the full lips. I saw a busted binder on the ground next to the car, and all the pieces clicked together.
“Talon…?” I said in shock and confusion. All she did was walk past me and kneel next to Sparrow. Talon had a fair number of untreated wounds, but I knew the gang's common sense.
Sparrow's well-being comes first.
The rest of us all walked over to spectate the treatment.
“Alex…” Sparrow whispered through his pain, grimacing. Talon shushed him, placing a gentle hand on his face.
“You’ll be alright, little bro…” the now-named Talon, Alex whispered. She worked with haste with the open wounds, picking out pieces of broken glass and shrapnel. Each wound she cleaned was wrapped with gauze.
Once Sparrow was all patched up, she had Eagle and Noct watch over him. She grabbed me roughly by the arm and dragged me the opposite direction. I followed, not wanting to get killed by her, and now I couldn’t hit her because I knew Talon was a she.
She stopped in the middle of the road and shoved me in the chest, crossing her arms afterwards. It was almost as if she was… vulnerable.
“You’re such a dodo…” she muttered under her breath.
“Please don’t tell me that’s my bird nam-” I started, but she interrupted me.
“I thought you were dead! We went out searching for you every single day we got the chance! We haven’t been able to do any heists without you, dammit!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking, and I soon realized she was crying.
“I would’ve stayed if I wasn’t thrown out of the car and abandoned on the side of the road,” I stated plainly. I didn't want to yell at her. Her breath quivered through her tears.
“You’re right, Jason… I’m sorry,” she murmured. I smiled faintly at her.
“I’ll come back,” I said. She looked at me and smiled softly at first, but it widened every moment after I had spoke. “If I get a badass bird name.”
Talon scoffed at me.
“Okay, Finch.”
“...Really?”
“What else do you want from me?”
“Something fast.”
“I’m not gonna call you fucking roadrunner, it’s too lame.”
“Why not Osprey?”
Alex thought on it for a moment.
“Fine.”
Her and I began our trek back to the crash site. On the way, she stopped me, grabbing my shoulder forcefully to turn her towards me. I tilted my head in confusion until she gently placed her lips against mine. I was… speechless.
“Wh… wh-” I started to stutter, but she punched me in the stomach before I could say another word. She continued walking, and I followed, clutching my stomach in pain.
Eagle and Noct guessed what had happened and began chuckling as I walked back.
“Osprey…” I muttered, walking up to them, raising one fist in sarcastic celebration.
“Talon has always had a fascination with osprey,” Noct told me, looking something up on his laptop.
“No wonder she let you keep the name,” Eagle commented, chuckling.
“What do you mean…?” I inquired.
“She had two reasons for recruiting you," Eagle stated. "Your getaway driving, and because she likes you."
My heart dropped (or soared, I couldn't tell).
"She... likes me?" I repeated, almost in disbelief.
"Yep," Noct replied, tapping away at the keys of his laptop.
Another lifetime goal completed, alongside "Make a living" and "Become a professional driver."
I pulled my journal and pen from my pocket, opening to the page designated for goals, and I checked off another box.
"Fall in love."
The Human Experience
By Ellie Gubbins
As my freshman year came to a close, I remember upperclassmen telling me about how sophomore year was the absolute worst year of high school for them. As my sophomore year comes to a close, I have to both agree and disagree. Sophomore year was definitely interesting, to say the least. I have been overly involved, only missed one day of school, have done countless hours of community service, and accidentally won contests that I only entered for extra credit.
This year I have taken more chances than I ever thought I would be able to. For one, I got over my fear of public speaking. In December, I won the Pilgrim Hall Society Teen Essay contest, and presented said essay in front of about 200 adults. In January, one of my poems was published for the second time in Plymouth’s Anthology of Teen Writings. In March, I presented a speech in front of the crowd at the Plymouth March For Our Lives Event. In April, I presented a poem at a Holocaust remembrance Yom Ha-Shoa service. Other than that fear, I also took a big chance, starting a GoFundMe for the restoration of Plymouth’s historical South Pond Chapel. That project is still in the works, but I never actually realized I could do whatever I put my mind to until I started to take chances. You learn a lot about yourself when you step outside of your comfort zone. It’s cheesy, but it’s true, I promise.
Growing up, we are told that we are all unique, which is true, don’t get me wrong. But we all have similar goals in life, and similar experiences. Anne Frank once said, “We all live with the objective of being happy; our lives are all different and yet the same.” Anne Frank’s quote about being happy directly explains how we all have the same destination in life. On a deeper sense, we are the same, but on the surface, none of us are alike in the slightest. Happiness can come in many forms: activities, people, songs, the weather. Anything can cause someone happiness when you think about it, the same way it can cause someone else pain and distress. For example: one person may be happy when it rains, and it may bring someone else dread. This quote has helped me to understand humans as a whole. We all make mistakes, some of them different, and some alike. We all also have goals, some small and personal, and some far-fetched.
A personal goal of mine is to know as much about the world as I can learn. My brain will never reach its full capacity. If you don’t know me as much as others do in this class, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m a huge nerd. Or a geek. Technically there’s a difference between the two, but I don’t necessarily fit in with either of those definitions. Both of those are just labels, and I am simply myself. I remember a quote from Fahrenheit 451 saying, “Stuff your eyes with wonder, he said, live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.” This quote not only reminds me to never stop wondering and learning, but also to live my life while I do it. It’s a reminder to form my own opinions and my thoughts are my choice, not anyone else’s. No one can take your thoughts away from you.
Along with figuring out that no one can control me, I also realized that I am not alone in anything that I do. There’s a musical currently on Broadway called “Dear Evan Hansen.” In this show, there is a quote in the bridge of their song “You Will Be Found,” that directly says, ‘You are not alone.’ This song reminded me that no matter what I am going through, I am, simply, not alone. The more you talk about your problems, the easier it gets to solve them. I really enjoy listening to this soundtrack. All of the songs have a certain meaning to them. The lyrics are directed towards the audience, not just the characters in the show. You are not alone. You, the listener, the reader, the human being, are not alone. You, the listener, the reader, the human being, will be found. It’s important to hear that sometimes. A favorite poet of mine, Sabrina Benaim, says, “I am not alone, because I feel alone.” This is another reminder that no matter what stresses and worries come to my mind, we all go through something just like it in our lives. It’s normal. It’s a experience that all humans have. Another favorite poet of mine, Neil Hilborn, said, “Whatever you’re feeling right now, there’s a mathematical certainty that someone else is feeling the exact same thing. This is not to say you aren’t special. This is to say thank God you’re not special.” We may feel alone, drowning in unknown thoughts, but someone else knows exactly what you are going through. We are all special and unique, but it’s a good thing that we aren’t alone in life. Everyone is one, unified under this one label called ‘human.’ This label is the only thing that is allowed to define us, because it is all that we are.
That’s the thing about the universal human experience. We are all on our path to success, the journey of happiness. We are all the same, and yet completely different. We all have the same feelings, especially when we think we’re the only one. We aren’t alone at all. We are all connected in one way or another. The only way that we can find these connections is by talking to each other. Communicate with each other, be respectful, and most of all-in a world like the one that we live in today-spread love. True, pure, genuine love.
What Book Are You Weeding?
By: Annie Yaeger
It was a hot summer day in Plymouth, Massachusetts. Mrs. Lizotte was out in her garden, pulling the persistent weeds attacking her hydrangeas. She had put it off for a while, but she had some free time that day and decided to get it done. She pulled up the weeds forcefully, tearing them away from the bright, colorful flowers. The sun was especially hot that day, and she sweat through her worn gardening clothes.
After what seemed like days of weeding, her young daughter Kaleigh leaped out of the house in a polka-dotted sundress. Her little three-year-old feet pitter-pattered as she ran into the garden, hopping on stones to preserve the flowers. She raced up to her mom, came to a full stop, and proceeded to watch her mother intently for another minute.
After a significant period of observation, Kaleigh cocked her head to one side and questioned “What are you doing?”
Without breaking stride, her mom responded “I’m weeding.”
Kaleigh nodded in understanding: “What book are you weeding?” Her mom burst out in laughter, and Kaleigh pouted at her indignantly as only a three-year-old can. Mrs. Lizotte smiled at her daughter, still laughing, and handed her a shovel.
“Come over here. I’ll show you.”
After what seemed like days of weeding, her young daughter Kaleigh leaped out of the house in a polka-dotted sundress. Her little three-year-old feet pitter-pattered as she ran into the garden, hopping on stones to preserve the flowers. She raced up to her mom, came to a full stop, and proceeded to watch her mother intently for another minute.
After a significant period of observation, Kaleigh cocked her head to one side and questioned “What are you doing?”
Without breaking stride, her mom responded “I’m weeding.”
Kaleigh nodded in understanding: “What book are you weeding?” Her mom burst out in laughter, and Kaleigh pouted at her indignantly as only a three-year-old can. Mrs. Lizotte smiled at her daughter, still laughing, and handed her a shovel.
“Come over here. I’ll show you.”
Forever and Always
By: Ella Romboldi
As we bury the last victims, memories come flooding into my mind; my daughter’s first steps, my son’s first words, the tree where I fell in love with my wife. I wipe away a tear as another member of the tribe covers my loved ones’ bodies with dirt and prayers. I hear a woman cry out in agonizing pain as though her heart is being ripped out of her chest.
I look around. Tomorrow at sunrise, the last six of us will leave all this behind. We will only be able to carry what we can hold in our satchels, which is the bare minimum.
At first it was only three people infected: the members of the Cougar Family. After them, six more, and then eight after them. The disease spread faster than the news of fresh berries on the hillside. Small children begged their mothers for help. Mothers knew they can do nothing for their child.
My son was seven years old when the sickness crept into his body. He believed that it was the gods’ way of punishing him for staying up too late. My wife and I tried to get him to understand that is was incorrect, but he insisted on praying. He prayed until his last dying breath. My son was the most religious member of my tribe. Abenaki taught all members what he knew about the gods above. He was the moonlight that guided me when my world was black.
The sickness is carried through our crops and water supply. There are only two ways to die now: to eat or not to eat.
The six remaining tribe members and I have devised a plan. We will go into the unclaimed forest for two months. This way, the sick will die and the healthy will survive. After the two months have passed, we shall look for another tribe and make peace with them. Finally, we will gain the tribe’s trust and be accepted as one of their own. Although this plan is flawed, it is our only option. We will find another way of life, or die trying.
I think of Abenaki now as I pack what little that I have left. Each step I take will be for him, my wife, and my tribe. I will live as though they are right beside me through all my journeys: forever and always.
I look around. Tomorrow at sunrise, the last six of us will leave all this behind. We will only be able to carry what we can hold in our satchels, which is the bare minimum.
At first it was only three people infected: the members of the Cougar Family. After them, six more, and then eight after them. The disease spread faster than the news of fresh berries on the hillside. Small children begged their mothers for help. Mothers knew they can do nothing for their child.
My son was seven years old when the sickness crept into his body. He believed that it was the gods’ way of punishing him for staying up too late. My wife and I tried to get him to understand that is was incorrect, but he insisted on praying. He prayed until his last dying breath. My son was the most religious member of my tribe. Abenaki taught all members what he knew about the gods above. He was the moonlight that guided me when my world was black.
The sickness is carried through our crops and water supply. There are only two ways to die now: to eat or not to eat.
The six remaining tribe members and I have devised a plan. We will go into the unclaimed forest for two months. This way, the sick will die and the healthy will survive. After the two months have passed, we shall look for another tribe and make peace with them. Finally, we will gain the tribe’s trust and be accepted as one of their own. Although this plan is flawed, it is our only option. We will find another way of life, or die trying.
I think of Abenaki now as I pack what little that I have left. Each step I take will be for him, my wife, and my tribe. I will live as though they are right beside me through all my journeys: forever and always.
A Little By Little
By Ella Romboldi
She feels alone.
Quiet to others but screaming within.
Is she invisible?
Trapped.
In a fishbowl.
Able to see the world without having any say in it.
She sits at lunch
surrounded by friends, yet
feels as though she is missing something:
a piece of life stripped away from her.
Retaliation
she has no way to fight back
against the laughter
the murmurs
the pointing.
Does anyone understand her pain?
Having to listen to the insults.
To the sly comments.
To all of her friends laugh and abuse her character.
Her once best friend now seems a million miles away.
She can’t understand who she has become to them.
A monster?
She feels as if there's something wrong with her personality
maybe there is.
But,
Her so called friends only see one side of her.
One.
Side.
She has more than you could possibly imagine.
They don’t see her crying side.
The one that comes out at only at home
the one that sheds tears because
she can’t imagine why someone-
something-
could be so mean
they don’t see her funny side
the one that is obsessed with puns and dry humor
her friends don’t always get it
this leads to 5 minutes of explanations
and
well, the joke isn’t funny anymore
they don’t see her loving side
the one that worries if her brother will be okay.
They never experience her wild side
the one that is saving up for a motorcycle so in a year,
she no longer has to take the bus.
The one that learns how to fly an airplane
and trail rides on the weekend.
And even after all is said and done
she stays friends with them.
Why?
For the fear of being alone.
So, out of this fear, she becomes stronger
she fights back the words thrown in her face
she build a thick skin
maybe stops telling jokes for a while.
She deals with the problem at hand.
Bravely.
And although her comments aren’t always fast
or witty.
She is getting there,
Step by step.
Day by day.
This year, she has realized that it’s okay to expand your horizons,
To meet new people,
That a simple comment could mean a lot to someone.
And yes
you don’t make best friends overnight
but, as they say,
“A little by little,
a day by day.”
Quiet to others but screaming within.
Is she invisible?
Trapped.
In a fishbowl.
Able to see the world without having any say in it.
She sits at lunch
surrounded by friends, yet
feels as though she is missing something:
a piece of life stripped away from her.
Retaliation
she has no way to fight back
against the laughter
the murmurs
the pointing.
Does anyone understand her pain?
Having to listen to the insults.
To the sly comments.
To all of her friends laugh and abuse her character.
Her once best friend now seems a million miles away.
She can’t understand who she has become to them.
A monster?
She feels as if there's something wrong with her personality
maybe there is.
But,
Her so called friends only see one side of her.
One.
Side.
She has more than you could possibly imagine.
They don’t see her crying side.
The one that comes out at only at home
the one that sheds tears because
she can’t imagine why someone-
something-
could be so mean
they don’t see her funny side
the one that is obsessed with puns and dry humor
her friends don’t always get it
this leads to 5 minutes of explanations
and
well, the joke isn’t funny anymore
they don’t see her loving side
the one that worries if her brother will be okay.
They never experience her wild side
the one that is saving up for a motorcycle so in a year,
she no longer has to take the bus.
The one that learns how to fly an airplane
and trail rides on the weekend.
And even after all is said and done
she stays friends with them.
Why?
For the fear of being alone.
So, out of this fear, she becomes stronger
she fights back the words thrown in her face
she build a thick skin
maybe stops telling jokes for a while.
She deals with the problem at hand.
Bravely.
And although her comments aren’t always fast
or witty.
She is getting there,
Step by step.
Day by day.
This year, she has realized that it’s okay to expand your horizons,
To meet new people,
That a simple comment could mean a lot to someone.
And yes
you don’t make best friends overnight
but, as they say,
“A little by little,
a day by day.”
Hide and Seek
By: Kaleigh Lizotte
Boom, boom, boom.
Her heart raced as she looked into every nook and cranny in the small ranch house.
Boom, boom, boom.
She frantically wiped the sweat collecting on her brow, opened the oven of all places, and hoped to see a familiar face peaking back at her. No such luck was had. She resumed her search, trying to find what she longed for the most.
“Oh sweetie, grandma has candy. Please come out, wherever you are,” the old lady sang as she checked under the couch cushions for the eleventh time. She felt guilty as a criminal about to be sentenced to capital punishment. It had been ten minutes and she still had no luck in her search. The oak wood door gleamed in her peripherals, so she decided to give it another go. As soon as she opened the door she was fit with the scent of old clothes and long forgotten memorabilia. The boxes in there where stacked high, so she peaked behind each, and even pulled the lid off a few. With no luck, she slammed the rickety door and proceeded towards the home room resting in living room.
“Oh dear,” she mumbled as her shaky hand reached for the phone. How had she managed to lose her seven year old granddaughter of all people? Dejectedly, she reached for the phone and dialed three faithful numbers.
“Hello, nine-one-one? Yes, I’d like to report a missings person. Who? My seven year old grandaughter. How? A game of hide-and-seek.”
Her heart raced as she looked into every nook and cranny in the small ranch house.
Boom, boom, boom.
She frantically wiped the sweat collecting on her brow, opened the oven of all places, and hoped to see a familiar face peaking back at her. No such luck was had. She resumed her search, trying to find what she longed for the most.
“Oh sweetie, grandma has candy. Please come out, wherever you are,” the old lady sang as she checked under the couch cushions for the eleventh time. She felt guilty as a criminal about to be sentenced to capital punishment. It had been ten minutes and she still had no luck in her search. The oak wood door gleamed in her peripherals, so she decided to give it another go. As soon as she opened the door she was fit with the scent of old clothes and long forgotten memorabilia. The boxes in there where stacked high, so she peaked behind each, and even pulled the lid off a few. With no luck, she slammed the rickety door and proceeded towards the home room resting in living room.
“Oh dear,” she mumbled as her shaky hand reached for the phone. How had she managed to lose her seven year old granddaughter of all people? Dejectedly, she reached for the phone and dialed three faithful numbers.
“Hello, nine-one-one? Yes, I’d like to report a missings person. Who? My seven year old grandaughter. How? A game of hide-and-seek.”
Music
By: Annie Yaeger
There’s music all around us every day,
You only have to listen for the sound,
The beauty comes in every different way,
With hiding rhythms waiting to be found.
It is a language that we all can speak,
In times when words alone are not enough.
It helps to pick us up when we are weak,
And it can brighten days when times get tough.
Some people choose to share theirs with the world,
While others keep their music to themselves.
Small melodies from mind to paper twirled,
Notes filling measures like books on bookshelves.
For our divisions it’s a remedy,
Lives folding together-- one melody.
You only have to listen for the sound,
The beauty comes in every different way,
With hiding rhythms waiting to be found.
It is a language that we all can speak,
In times when words alone are not enough.
It helps to pick us up when we are weak,
And it can brighten days when times get tough.
Some people choose to share theirs with the world,
While others keep their music to themselves.
Small melodies from mind to paper twirled,
Notes filling measures like books on bookshelves.
For our divisions it’s a remedy,
Lives folding together-- one melody.
