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Grade
6

The Structure was all that was left, all that the people needed. Or so they thought.

The humans flocked to the Garden, which was fertilized by human waste, and picked their share of food. Seeds were collected and a new Garden began each spring. The people then rushed to a single, clean freshwater spring that their home had been built around. The sprawling maze of stairways, boardwalks and buildings that were the Structure spread for miles and miles, until the haze of distance concealed its outer fringes. Here, the last of humankind lived their simple existence.

The eager young boys and girls would foray into the Structure’s far reaches, searching for discarded pieces of the hodgepodge of materials it was made of to fashion into toys. The adults would do the tasks that needed to be done, like caring for the Garden or fixing components of their homes that were damaged by acid rain.

For storms were the only thing in life that inspired fear. The acid storms that caused their houses to slowly disintegrate, the droplets that did insidious damage to their rooftops. The remnant of an ancient horror that lived on in the stories passed down among the adults. The horror of the outside world. For the grownups, when the rains were infrequent and they had little to mend, spoke of the land beyond the Structure. A land where long-dead humans’ remains lay among the mounds of metal and plastic and charred earth. Shattered glass was heaped in the skeletons of cities. Thick smog permeated the air. A world that had once been humankind’s home, before the last survivors had used scraps of all they could find to build a shelter against the apocalypse. They chose to create it around a freshwater spring, deep-rooted and unsullied by pollution.

Thus the Structure grew and grew until it engulfed all they knew. The grown folk still knew these shreds of history, keeping them hidden from the children until they could handle it. For it would scare them, the adults thought, to know the deadly reality beyond their pleasant illusion of an uneventful but safe life.

All that the children knew of the world beyond was that the acid rain came from there, and that it was somewhere they never needed to go. They had their plants--beans, grains, fruits and vegetables. They had their toys, and adults could occupy themselves with card games or repairs.

Still...in the youngsters’ hearts, there was a longing. An unconscious memory rooted in their deepest dreams.

Dreams of a better Earth than the one they had inherited.

Swaths of beautiful forests, wildflowers blooming and four-legged creatures darting among the trees. And feathery beings flitting in the air, borne on wings that were soft but strong. Streams of water that didn’t have to be rationed out from a small pool. Broad crimson deserts and majestic, snow-capped mountains, mild, grassy hills and sparkling turquoise seas. A pristine natural world that was lost to the ages. And yet...could there be a way to bring it back?

.   .   .

Seikatsu was eating a plate of red beans. The bland, almost flavorless food was more appetizing to look at than to taste. Unfortunately, it was one of the only forms of sustenance in the Structure Garden. Some beans were kept uneaten to be planted, and a new crop would grow. This was a custom that could not be abandoned, or all would perish.

Seikatsu was full of nervous energy. As she lay on her mat of woven flax from the Garden, spooning the beans between her dry lips, she wondered. Much of the Structure was wood. Where did that wood come from? And what of the other substances?

Sighing, she rose, setting her empty plate beside the mat. Naturally inquisitive, she wanted answers. To know why she was here. Know why they were all here, in the ancient labyrinth they called home.

She opened the door and looked out. Beyond the firelight that streamed through the doorway, she could see the dawn, which was partially obscured by clouds. A wind stroked her hair, evoking a strange longing in her. It was a harbinger of a storm, meaning indoor confinement until the acid rain passed, as well as more work for the grownups. They would have to cover the spring to keep it safe to drink, among many things. Despite this, storms always stirred something in Seikatsu. A half-forgotten instinct to rush out into the torrent and dance and laugh and rejoice at the coming of rain.

She wondered if there had ever been a time when rain wasn’t dangerous. Had it once been clean and fresh, like the spring they drank from?

Seikatsu stepped out into the wind, welcoming it as a friend. Soon, she would have to retreat behind the threshold to shelter her from the elements. Now, however, she let the distant precursors of thunder grumble without cowering by the fire. For, unlike her family, she was not afraid.

.   .   .

“They say it’s crumblin’. That after all these years, the foundation o’ the Structure is crumblin’.” Although Marvin, Seikatsu’s grandfather, was often gossipy, this time his words did not seem like just another rumor.

Disturbed, Seikatsu’s parents leaned in closer over the fire they sat beside. “You really,” said Joseph, the father, “think it’s going to cave in? Will we all have to go...outside?” He said outside like it was a curse, repulsive and ugly. He feared the tales he had heard of it, and didn’t like the thought of even going near it, let alone living there.

Seikatsu’s mother was still more afraid of the outside world, because she knew more about it, having studied the ecosystem when unoccupied. Knowledge does not always conquer fear.

“That’s what they’re sayin’,” said Marvin, sinking onto his chair’s flax cushion as it rocked creakily, back and forth. His wrinkled face seemed to grotesquely undulate as the shadows of the firelight played over it. Behind him, through the open doorway, a whoosh of air forboded the storm that was advancing, far off.

“S-so,” Joseph said unsteadily, “when would this cave-in happen? And where did you get this news?”

“The people are talkin’ about it, all over town. They say it’ll happen soon. It’s been a danger for a long time, we just didn’t know. They just found it days ago, a collapsed section to the left o’ where the children go to play. They looked into it, and saw that it was goin’ on all over. It’s crumblin’.”

And it was true. The countless pillars, the innumerable networks of scaffolding that supported the Structure-- they were threatening to give way.

What if they all, gradually or even in an instant, fell away, and everything they had ever known would be gone?

 

.   .   .

When the storm passed, Seikatsu stepped outside. The clouds were pulling away and the wind was dying down, so the neighbors’ voices were now audible above the fading gusts. The air was filled with a heavy vapor that was slowly lifting. The weather didn’t seem like the wake of a natural terror. More like the remnants of a natural wonder.

Seikatsu stepped into the emerging daylight. She inhaled the fresh air, air the more scientific adults were surprised was still clean, what with greenhouse gases in the outer world. They assumed the Garden exhaled it, creating a pocket of air to shield them from smog.

Having eaten long before the sun rose, she was ready to do what she always did. Wander the Structure.

Her steps took her past the warped banisters to the Garden staircase, down the long flight of steps, and across a wide platform. They led her away from the Garden, skirting the central spring to avoid the crowd that would undoubtedly be there. She was not thirsty. As she walked around it, she saw her mother and father. Their faces were worried. Probably just thirst, Seikatsu told herself.

She trudged down the long pathway into the less traveled regions, then turned in a new direction. Left. Usually she took the middle or right path, but today, she ached for something new. As she went, she grew absentminded. She had had a dream. What were the details? Green, everything was green. What else?

In the midst of her pondering, she failed to see the sign.

DANGER! CRUMBLED FOUNDATION!

DO NOT ENTER!

Seikatsu was beginning to recall more of the dream. There had been water in it, curtains of it cascading into a pool like the spring back home. From there, it tumbled down a long stream until it disappeared. And the plants! They were everywhere! Not just vegetables and beans and fruits, either. There were towering brown shafts, topped by hundreds of glistening leaves, and winged feathery creatures which flew, chirping, among the branches. Were those trees? The living towers that were cut into logs, which were then used to create some of the Structure?

Behind her, while she racked her memory for more, the sign vanished in the distance, and she was beyond hope of realizing her predicament. Until it was too late.

Seikatsu looked at the path ahead. A thin ramp lead upwards, and then the boardwalk went down and could no longer be seen. She stepped to the top of the ramp.

Suddenly, she was teetering on the edge of an enormous drop, and below her were the remains of the rest of the walk. The gulf she threatened to topple into was massive, and beneath, a vast heap of cracked bridges, smashed buildings, bent stairways and snapped railings all lay about. A huge portion of the Structure had collapsed, leaving it crumbling on the earth far below. Far off, Seikatsu thought she could see something more than the broken shards.

What it was she could not register in that frantic moment. All this she took in in an instant, as she precariously wobbled on the edge. Then she flung herself backwards, narrowly avoiding a fatal plunge. She landed painfully on her back, bruising her head on the planks. Her relief at surviving melted when she heard the wood groan under excessive weight, then snap with a crack. Seikatsu and the whole mass broke off of the Structure and plummeted down, down to the ravaged ruin under her. Then darkness enveloped everything.

.   .   .

If she was on her mat, why was the ground so jagged and rough? Why did every bone in her body ache? Seikatsu opened her eyes. And closed them again, believing that in a blink it would vanish. It didn’t.

She was alone, on a bed of mud. She sat up, brushing off her filthy clothing, and surveyed her surroundings. She couldn’t believe what she saw.

A real live tree was growing in front of her. It was scraggly and withered, its leaves brown and sickly. Still, several green shoots peeped from its branches, signifying life blossomed in it yet.

Seikatsu rose to touch the tree. She immediately stumbled, dazed from her long fall. She was lucky to have survived it--she had slipped from the boardwalk in midair as it dropped, and landed, by good chance, in a pile of mud. She realized this mud must have been created by the acid rain. As it had saved her life, however, she felt indebted, oddly, to this toxic sludge. So far from trying hysterically to clean herself, she grasped the tree to steady herself and looked beyond it.

What she saw was a wasteland. Past the corona of destruction that radiated from the Structure, there was even more wreckage. Dented trucks lying on lopsided highways and lofty spires rested among demolished buildings, their glory devoured by time. Wheeled contraptions she guessed were cars were scattered throughout the roads, peppered with rust. It was a scene of ancient carnage.

Yet all around it, plants were growing. Hope and life in the midst of all this sorrow. She had heard, in snatches of phrase from the grownups, of the deathly world beyond the Structure. And some of those words were true. But maybe there was something left over from that older world she dreamed of. Something remaining that could be cultivated. For across this scene of death there were more trees, lichen and moss covering them, and shrubs and grass and bushes rooted among the ruined buildings.

“Seikatsu!” came her father’s voice, eerily loud over the silence that had burrowed into every inch of the scene. “Are you all right?”

Astonished, Seikatsu looked up. Her father, her beloved father, was far above her, right behind where the boardwalk had snapped a second time.

“Don’t just call down to her, Joseph! Let’s climb down and help her!” said her mother Lana, joining her husband. “You don’t need to,” Seikatsu answered. “I’m fine.”

“I knew they were right,” said Marvin, shuffling from behind the couple. “It really was crumblin’.”

Then all three adults stopped and stared. Their attention shifted from the girl on the ground to what was behind her. The world beyond.

A wind blew, and they all flinched, thinking of acid rain and being caught far from home in the midst of a corrosive downpour. Instead the wind merely tousled their hair and the trees’ leaves.

Perhaps the outside world was not as bad as they had suspected.

At that very moment, they heard an odd noise, like a short, inhuman yelp. A furry, four-legged creature poked its long-eared head from behind a caved-in skyscraper, sniffing enthusiastically. Seeing the unfamiliar, two-legged newcomers, it growled. Then, hesitantly, it sniffed again and wagged its tail, approaching them cautiously.

The four humans did not know then that this was a dog. Soon, they would guess it from history passed through the Structure’s inhabitants.

Suddenly, another creature appeared. It flapped effortlessly through the air, chattering animatedly. It rode on long, feathery limbs that Seikatsu remembered were called wings. A bird, she thought.

An ecosystem still thrived on their planet, persisting despite the pollution.

“But how?” Seikatsu asked. “How did they survive with the acid rain and the smog?

“It seems,” said Lana, “that they found their own ways to adapt to the ancient climate crisis. Maybe the trees stretched their roots deeper to reach safe underground water, or developed their leaves to repel the toxins, and then the animals discovered how to tap into the trees’ resources.”

“And the sky!” said Joseph. “It’s not smoggy--it’s clean! What happened to the poison in the air?”

Lana was about to give a lengthy answer on the absorbance of carbon dioxide through photosynthesis and the greenhouse effect, but her daughter spoke before her.

“Does it matter?” Seikatsu asked. “What does matter is we have a world to live in. A world filled with wonder and joy and life. We can mend this wreckage and care for the animals. Our lives will have a purpose: to preserve all life.”

“Maybe we can even stop the acid rain,” said Marvin.

“Let’s get the others,” said Lana. “Humankind will leave the Structure and be itself again.”

 

Grade
9

 

I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of stars makes me dream.

 

Once upon a time, there was a princess who was loved by the stars - but every time she awoke they were gone.

 

“Your highness! Please wake up!”

 

Rubbing her eyes, Lucienne rises from her bed and knocks into a watercolor painting. Glass shatters.

 

There’s a frenzy of shouts, and her door crashes open.

 

“Your highness. You need to be more careful!” The servant says, meeting her eyes. “I suppose it can’t be helped.”

 

The servant helps her up and they head downstairs, bits of a conversation cutting in.

 

“...pollution...”

 

“...eyes...

 

“...princess...”

 

The servant pulls Lucienne to the dining room. The help bows, avoiding her eyes.

 

They eat together. Isolated in a tower, Lucienne takes all the company she can get.

 

“How were the stars yesterday?” She inquires.

 

There’s an awkward pause before someone exclaims, “They were beautiful!”

 

Lucienne smiles at the thought of their glow against the night sky. Just once, she’d like to see the stars again.

 

After eating she returns to her room, contemplating the words she heard earlier. No, she didn’t just hear fragments. She heard everything.

 

“She’s so stupid. Pollution makes seeing the stars impossible.”

 

“You know how her eyes are. Don’t bully a blind girl.”

 

“Who’s bullying her? She thinks she’s a princess.”

 

No...  I can see.

 

I can see the stars.

 

I swear I see them.

I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of stars makes me dream. 

Grade
11

Peronel climbed out over limbs still marked from last night. A murmur of protest rose from her still-sleeping lover, but Peronel could not stop. She muttered an apology and pulled herself to the mirror, barely able to look ahead.

 

There, she stood, amid clothes hurriedly and less hurriedly pulled off from last night. Unmarked, but for the usual bruises. Still dreadfully without.

 

Quickly, she must pull on her clothes quickly. The buttons of her shirt tremble with her fingers as she tries, tries, tries to fit plastic disks into small holes in soft, white cotton. Next week. She’ll try again next Friday and next Saturday, maybe someone else -- maybe then. It’s times like this that she’s most grateful for her dark skin -- the blue veins of desire would not have shown well anyway, and she needs only to wear a sheer top and long pants to hide her lack over the years.

 

Why this particular emotion? The nebulous thing romcoms were based on, the clear-cut yes or no children alternatingly hid or showed off and learned about in health class, that thing her parents told her would burn inside her, that desire. Biologists worked so, so hard to try to uncover its secrets -- all she wanted to know was how to live without.

 

She stretches out, fully awake now. It's her house - she always insists - and she knows where to find things. Breakfast after nights like these, nights spent with strangers in the dark because it hurt too much to lose acquaintances, were somehow always easier.

 

It wasn't as easy at twenty, when she first moved out on her own. For one, her cooking just plain sucked. Oh, people were always so polite about it, but even she could tell. Practice, however, seemed to give her an edge in morning meals, and now she could cook foods that were not only edible but divine.

 

Soft morning sunlight streamed through the window and touched her skin like countless strangers’ hands. It left her unsteady, gripping at the counter and her stomach. Half an hour more.

 

A groan comes from the bedroom. (“Lights off,” she said last night.) Peronel takes the eggs (over easy) off the oven and strolls back into the bedroom. (Advantage of working at home: irregular hours and nobody to gossip about her at the water cooler, nobody to see her without.)

 

“Rise and shine,” she says. “I made eggs. You said you had to get to work by…?” Peronel wants this to be pleasant. It feels a little less like using their bodies when it is pleasant, some almost-apology, some remuneration. It’s easier for everyone to overlook things, when it is pleasant.

 

“Thanks. Eight thirty. Mmm, what time is it?”

 

“Seven forty.”

 

“Damn. Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”.

 

It’s easy, like this, to know what to say. It’s like with breakfast -- enough practice and you learn how to get it just right.

 

Peronel looks as her lover rises, beautiful blue stretching over skin. She is jealous -- wishes this could be like a movie, one of those she watched so much as a teen the DVDs’ colored coatings all flaked off (whose titles she re-wrote in acrid black sharpie), where she’ll find the right person, where she’ll find her skin lined with blue, where she’ll be alright, normal, functional.

 

(At fourteen, when her Brianne, who would marry the best friend of her husband and move in next door, they had this all planned out, told her, in whispers, that she’d gone blue for Tommy Hill, Peronel shrugged and wished her luck. Up until sixteen her parents had been so, so glad that she never had any blue lines, but then they started worrying, silently. At seventeen, Brianne stopped being her friend, after a shouting match about trust and telling me things, Peronel. She chose a college that was far away and cultivated, well, a presence. Kids used to whisper in the hallways of her school, wondering if she was natural or simply like they used to say about dark girls, so dyed in blue that you couldn’t tell that difference.)

 

In the kitchen, her lover writes something on a napkin before passing it across the tiny table. The plates are lined in blue, like her mirror -- Erosite, like her skin should be. If she does -- if she isn’t without, she needs to be sure, and her mother liked them, helped her pick them out when she’d moved in. It’d taken four stores and half a day.

 

“Here.”

 

“Oh, thank you.”

 

“Geez, would you look at it? I’m giving you my number.”

 

“Oh, thank you.”

 

“I -- look, you don’t have to use it, if you don’t want to. But, you know, last night was fun. All of it. So, you know, if you ever want to -- well, just send something over.

 

Peronel smiles and wants this person to be the one, if only so she can stop looking. She remembers the bruises from last month, from someone who noticed, and fights to keep her lips upturned, eyes soft. She doesn’t get to reply before an exclamation catches her attention, and she looks up at her lover again.

 

“Shit, what do you put into this? It’s delicious!”

 

Peronel laughs, surprising herself when it isn’t another lie. This lover is quite likeable, more’s the shame. “That’s for me to know and you to find out. Milk?” she asks, pocketing the napkin.

 

“Yes, please.”

 

Setting a glass on the table, Peronel walks to the fridge to get the milk. It’s seven fifty. Her hands still quiver, almost imperceptibly. It’s not fair -- she cannot get to know this lover or any of the others or her neighbours well enough for them to start asking. Her hands want to shake, want to grip themselves in her hair and pull, want lines to appear in her skin even if she has to scratch them there herself. Her vision is blurring, though she’s sure she’s not crying, yet. It’s why she’s clumsy enough to spill it, onto her lover’s steadying hand.

 

She turns to get a towel, but not before noticing the table cloth stain blue, lines melting off her lover’s hands to reveal --

 

“I’ll get going,” comes a shaky voice, but not before Peronel’s hand clamps down on her lover’s wrist, another rolling up her own sleeves

 

(“Can’t leave too many marks,” she remembers, from last night. Another statement, another acquiescence she was more than glad to take at face value.)

 

I’m the same, she wants to say, but she’s crying, crying into warm, open arms that feel like warm blankets and not like iron brands for the first time. She remembers last night, in a bar full of lined people waiting, wanting, and remembers being approached by her lover, skin full of blue lines. It was dark, when they had been together, and her lover had retreated afterwards, to the bathroom. Dye, she thinks, giddy.

 

“Is it -- it is true?”

 

“Peronel -- but --”

 

The clock beeps, her eight o’clock alarm. She sets it to remind herself to get going, before someone notices the office hidden away (it’s easier for Peronel to work at home, to avoid the questions and the abundance of blue lines, half-hidden, and it’s easier for Peronel to pretend she doesn’t, to her lovers, because it’s not normal and people notice what isn’t normal and what-if-they-start-asking).

 

“Come over when you get out. I work from home,” Peronel replies, cheeks heating. Oh, gods, it’s like she can say anything right now.

 

Her lover nods. “I get off at five, with a twenty minute bus ride.” The city, Peronel recalls, is always easier to hide in. It’s why she chose it, after all.

 

Peronel smiles, closing the door as her lover runs out of view. One warm -- not searing -- shower is in order, then a day of waiting for something better than losing the feeling of hands upon her skin. It’s like -- she looks out as her lover, maybe something more, runs off to the subway -- twilight, half-dreaming. But she’s past pinching herself, is too old for those kinds of things for all that she’s twenty four.

 

Her hands reach into her pocket, pulling the napkin out, trembling with someone other than pain. She looks down at it.

 

“XXX-XXX-XXXX

“-- Morgan. Want to go get some coffee?”

Grade
6

        ­­­­          Mysteries Of Life

            “Dude, are you my friend or foe” I asked Hiro. “Oh come on, now you blame everything on me” he defended. “Jack, Hiro, you guys have been arguing for like an hour now” Mia claimed. Mia is my girlfriend, she has been my girlfriend since we were in 2nd grade. Oh right, I didn’t even tell you guys why we are fighting for! My best friend Hiro and I have been arguing because of my math grade. I copied off his paper in a math test and I got an E- as a grade. If I had copied off answers from someone else’s paper I would have got an A+ as my grade instead of E-.

            Anyway, Hiro is my best friend and also my worst nightmare ever. I don’t really say that he is my worst nightmare ever because of this event, I said that with the fact that he was the most amusing bully I have ever had. Yep, he was a bully and yes I understand the question you are having. It is “How is he a bully if he is in the same grade as you right?” Well, believe it or not it is the way I was treated when I was young. Then when I was in 4th grade it all came along one day. He came to me and apologised to me when I was in the cafeteria eating me lunch. From that day Hiro and I were the best of the best friends there were. We were so cool that everyone kept following us every were we went and that was our amazing history. We were then called the cool dudes. That is why we call each other dude mostly.

            Then I called mom and said “I wasn’t going to come home soon because my friends and I are going to hang out”. Awesomely she said okay. So, my friends and I took off to our favourite mountain. Yes, I did mean mountain. We are going to the smallest mountain of the Alps to hang out, like a picnic. It is our favourite place to go.

            After we climbed half way through the mountain we all slept for some time. After we woke up we played a few games, built tents, and even found a cave that we could sleep in. Then we decided to play hide and seek together. I was supposed to be it (the person who finds others). I tried for a while to find where they are hiding. Then I gave up. I called them back, I said I give up, but no one answered. I packed all the stuff we brought and started walking home having a feeling that both of my friend’s parents called them to come home.

            Once I was in town I saw everything messed up. I found trees on the middle of the roads, house roofs tore apart, most of all I saw no one in town. The town looked like it was deserted. After that I went to my house to search for my mom and dad, but no one answered me. I was so scared that I screamed, cried, and after all of that, I still couldn’t find anyone.

            I felt like everyone left me alone. I felt lonely. Even the busiest place (the community centre) was deserted. There were cars, but most of them wasn’t even up the right way. I mean even the busiest road was deserted and most of them were upside down. I searched for Hiro and Mia, but I guess I didn’t have luck. I sat in the middle of the road and wondered where everyone could have gone. After a while I figured it out, my town was hit by a tornado and I also figured that it was a really powerful one indeed.

            I couldn’t be more stupid. I shouldn’t have left my town. I should have been inside my house and lived with my parents when I could. Right, I could still meet my parents by going to heaven. Yes, yes, yes I do know that it is not the time for joking around. I decided to go and search for humans than are still alive.

            I searched for people but my luck is terrible today. So, I couldn’t find any one. After searching I decided to go to the closest town in search of my parents. I still have hope that I will them one day.

            I travelled to the closest town. I reached the town in mid night. I had to find a place to sleep. So I found a small opening between two buildings. I decided that it was my satisfied bed room for the day. The next day I started searching for my mom and dad. I walked on streets that I didn’t even know the name of. I asked every single person I saw if they saw my parents. I also described my parents for them to notice.

            I went through few more days like this and then one day I lost my hope. I decided to do what I thought was a joke. I decided to commit suicide. So, then I chose the perfect cliff. When I was ready to fall I heard something.

            I heard this…….. “Jack wake up, you are going to be late to school” yelled mom. I woke up looking at the Darth Vader shaped drool on my pillow. “Jack, your friend is waiting for you outside” mom yelled again.

I raced myself through the closet and ran outside wondering who that friend might be. Once I was outside I noticed Hiro waiting for me near the garden. “So, you finally woke up” he explained. “Alright, alright, stop bragging and let’s get going” I sighed. Where are we going again? He asked. To school, what do you think? I argued back. Suddenly, Hiro laughed like there was no tomorrow. When I asked him why, but then “there is no school today” he replied.

I was shocked, thrilled to be honest. “Then why exactly are you here” I asked. “Who, me? Dude we have our game today, remember? He answered strongly. “Right I totally forgot about the big basketball game we were having” I stated. Wait a second it is Saturday already? I exclaimed. “Yep, why” he questioned. “Dude, I totally forgot about my project in Math class, I got to go bro, I myself still have a lot of work to do.

“Dude before you go” he added “Happy Birthday”. Everyone popped out of the bush and hugged me like anything including Mia. I told everyone how happy I was to see them and also I explained some of the event occurred in my super weird dream, but I also told them it was never going to happen. After that we all celebrated my birthday with a giant Oreo Cake. After that dream I will be great on everything I do, including the basketball game on Sunday. Oh, no my math project I still have to do that. Alright, Bye for now.

 

 

 

 

 

                   

Grade
11

I should have listened, he should have thought.

 

Below him, the forest’s burning away, heavy pine smoke burning away at his lungs and stinging his eyes. “Jean, you are never to go to them!” his sister had all but screamed, and he knew she was thinking of their father, dead before he was born; of their mother, dead last year; and of little Miram, dead just last week. Her eyes were still red in the morning, now.

 

At least he’s deep enough in wilderness to avoid disaster to the city, five days away from their old village. He helped her thatch the roof just a few days ago, carried the straw through cobbled streets choking with filth and consumption. The market vendors will feel sorry enough for her that she’ll be able to afford the carnations.

 

It’s cloudy enough that it might take a day for someone to notice. Strangely, he feels almost calm, eyelids falling.

 

“Little boy, are you giving up now?” a voice asks, a rumble that he knows is the dragon, and he knows he doesn’t regret this. He can’t, and he can’t stop, now. He knows, now.

 

Aubrey opens his eyes and burns, grinning.

Grade
10

I was close to leaving the late shift at the local drug store, the one with the neon lights plastered outside and all, listening to those ceiling speakers softly hum elevator jazz. It was pretty empty around this time and since nobody else was here and I decided to light myself a nice cig. They always made me feel a little bit less lonely cause smell of the smoke was one that I’d never forget, it always felt familiar no matter where I was. It really did. Anyway, I had no idea why they converted the store to a 24-hour shop because nobody really ever came in, except for men expecting late night rendezvous or drunks who were getting their daily nighttime dose.

You see, Candy, my co-worker, had needed to leave early for God knows what, so I took over her shift that day. The store was generally silent except for the deep rumble of the A/C and the whines of the fluorescent lights. I didn’t mind it at all, though. I actually kind of liked it, to be honest, because I was all by myself. The only thing was that it was real lonely because all I could really do was sit and wait for some troublemaker to come busting in for one of their 3 a.m. needs every once in a while or watch the desolate, kind of depressing security tape over and over.

A few minutes till three, the door chimed lightly signaling the arrival of my replacement. My strained eyes shot up to see Dan, in all his glory, coming in with a tipsy smile on his dumb face. “Hey,” he said a little too loud and I swear I could smell the beer saturated on his breath from where I was. He put on his nametag, ‘Dan’ printed nicely in Sal’s signature red cursive, and leaned over the counter. “I think I can take it from here. You can go home now.”

That was code for ‘get out, I want to sit down and you’re in the only seat in the entire goddam store’.

“For Christ Sake, it smells like ash. Are you smokin’ in here?”

I shook my head, and could feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Under the counter, I stomped on the bud and kicked it under the counter. I’m pretty sure there were at least fifty of my old cigarettes under there, to be honest.

“You gonna go?”

I nodded and hopped off the chair. I just wasn’t in the mood to be pulverized by his glares today, however, I would have loved to be burned with one look of his eyes, but today I wasn’t really feeling it. I scurried out, the door jingling behind me.

After I got kicked out, I went outside and looked up to the abyss above me. I hated whenever the sky was pitch black. For some reason it made me feel like I was lost, and like I’d be stuck in it forever.

And just to my luck, the sky was so dark that I couldn’t see anything but black. Usually there would be a couple of stars hanging around, so I’d feel like I had company, but tonight they were all hiding, which made me feel real alone. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like going home. It wasn’t like there was anyone to go home to anyways.

I decided that I would just follow the path of streetlights, but to be honest I had no real destination in mind. I just wanted to feel the wind in my hair, to remind me that I was alive. I had to do that a lot. I don’t really know why.

I think it was stupid of me to think that it would help, but there was something about lights that were comforting for me. I had always loved them as a kid. During my youthful days, I could never sleep without a nightlight, or always had to have some sort of lamp on. Of course, I got made fun of by all my friends because they thought I was some sort of pussy that couldn’t even sleep with the lights off, but I guess I didn’t really care what they thought. It just kind of showed me that they didn’t really understand me, and that they weren’t real. It’s kind of sad actually.

But, ironically, one of my favorite memories was when our electricity wasn’t working and the lights were completely off. I found myself left in the darkness and I don’t think I’ve had ever been so scared in my whole entire life. I cried and cried till my mother came in, and she found me curled up in a ball, and wrapped me in a blanket, till I was all cozy. She stuck these glow-in-the-dark stickers of stars and planets on my ceilings. I always loved to look at them because it reminded me that I wasn’t alone and she was always there for me. Maybe that’s why I look for those damn stars every night.

Anyways, I was walking along the edge of the park, everything lit by streetlamps and cars passing by, and small gusts of wind that sang sweetly in my ear with perfect harmony. The trees were dimly lit, and their usual bright green color was unnoticeable. It was kind of peaceful, because everyone was asleep, and even the bars that were usually filled to the brim with people, who drank alcohol like it was water, were closed.

I had been walking for no longer than seven or eight minutes when I saw a little pudgy figure, a few feet ahead, sitting alone on a bench and reading what looked like a pocketbook. As I inched closer, I peered at the peculiar woman in front of me from behind a large black trash can because I kind of blended into the darkness with my all black clothing, She was around 80 years old, had a small bowler hat on and was reading some book by some ancient author that people in her time had probably loved or something. It was quite odd for a person like her to be out in the park during the middle of the night. Certainly, I would be expecting an old person like her to be fast asleep in home in her, or watching soap operas in a big velvety chair, like my grandma used to do.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say something?”

I froze, and every single drop of blood in my whole entire body flushed to my cheeks. ”Uh, g-good evening.” I stuttered out incoherently.

She pushed her glasses up, squinting at me hard. She paused for a few seconds, contemplating on my face. “Do I know you, young man?”

“No,” I shook my head. “No, ma’am. B-but is it alright with you if I sit here with you for a couple minutes?” The thing that surprised me was that she didn’t look suspicious of me at all. I mean, if I were her, I would be skeptical as hell.

To be honest, I couldn’t really believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. I was never really that type of person to be so forward. Maybe it was the darkness, and I had been getting desperate from some company, but I had no idea what I was saying, and more so, why I was saying it. She kind of gave me a hard look, but scooted over a couple body lengths so the both of us could fit on the bench.

“Most certainly,” she closed her book with a soft thud. “I don’t think I’ve ever had company this late.”

“I don’t think I’ve been out this late.”

And get this, she then gave me a smile, but one of those real genuine, kind smiles, the ones that show you that they mean well. I hadn’t seen one of those in a very long time, and those made my hands sweat even more, cause only my mom used to smile at me like that. Nobody really smiled at me these days. And even if they did, I could always see right through them, and could tell that they weren’t real. But when she smiled at me, a familiar sense of warmth rushed through my body and embraced every single cell from my head to my toes. It almost made me want to start bursting out in tears, I was so happy. I almost did.

“What’s your name, young man?”

“Sam.”

“Well, it’s a goddam pleasure to meet you, Sam,” she stook her hand out. “My name is Janice.”

“Nice to meet you, Janice.” I shook it lightly.

“So what brings you out tonight on a warm, summer night, Sam?”

“I don’t really know.” I said. I really didn’t. “I just came off of work and thought that I’d take a quick walk.”

“You just got off of work? It’s—“ she looked at the watch. “Two past three! What on earth do you do?”

“I work at Sal’s.”
            “The one a few blocks from here?” She motioned down the wide path I had just took sparsely lit with lights. She seemed surprised for some reason.

I nodded.

“Oh, I go there all the time to get my groceries. It’s a very nice place, that Sal’s.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I guess it is.”

There was a lull in the conversation, an impending silence for a few minutes. I think she was expecting me to say a little bit more, or bring up something else but I was trying my best not to sweat through my clothes, cause I was so damn nervous. I hadn’t really talked to anyone in a long time.

Janice coughed a little bit and pursed her lips together. “Well, Sam from Sal’s, I can tell you right now—I am a mediocre self-taught therapist.” She let out a small laugh. “And no man in his right mind would take a walk this damn late. Darling, if you need a walk at three in the morning something is very off. It is clear to me that something is on your mind, I can see it, you can feel it, hell, even a child would be able to tell that something is bothering you.”

“Well,” I wiped the sweat on my pants. “There’s always something bothering everyone. I’m not the only one.”

“You have a point there, Sam.” She put her wrinkled hand on my shoulder and gave me a small pat. “However, you made the mistake of saying everyone. There are people in this world, like myself, who do not find problems anymore. Let me tell you, I am old, I know that, but I have lived long enough where I can say all my problems are non-existent.”

Not true. “I-I mean, I guess.”

“Don’t be so closed minded,” she frowned at me disapprovingly. I looked down and kicked a nearby rock away. “Your problems are only created by your own doings.”

I grimaced. I don’t know what path she was trying to go down, the enlightened hippie grandma, or the wise beyond her years stereotype. I just knew that either way, it wasn’t doing much for me.

“That’s not true at all. If you only blame yourself for your problems how do you explain death? Life is never perfect. People die.”

I realized I was shouting. I was shouting real loud, so loud, that I think we both were afraid I was going to wake up the whole neighborhood.

“You know, people die,” I said a little bit quieter. “And it happens. And you can’t do anything about it and they can’t either. And when they’re gone, what are you supposed to do? Not miss someone you loved so much—”

Memories were coming back.

“And just forget her? You know, it isn’t my fault—”

All of them were coming back at once, like a flood.

“That I miss her, but it isn’t her fault for dying. So what am I supposed to do,” I was shouting again. “Which is it?” My voice kind of broke on the last note. I guess I was pretty upset for her giving me all this bullshit, but I was more upset at myself for some reason.

Janice gave me a concerned look. “Who are you talking about?”

I stayed silent.

“Alright. But to answer your question, it is normal to mourn someone, Sam. And if that person was close to you, I know it’s very hard to stop. I lost my husband a couple years ago to cancer. I was devastated for God knows long.” She smiled sadly. “But I told myself I couldn’t keep living this way. I couldn’t keep drowning myself in my own self-pity and melancholy, because the more I would, the deeper I would sink. And let me tell you, it was hell to make that swim back to reality. But I did it. And everything is so goddam beautiful, Sam, everything in some way has its own beauty. You have to look up and look at the goddam stars, and see that you everything happens no matter if you want it to or not. You can’t live your life worrying about your problems, because they’ll just die with you. You won’t be able to get rid of them, so just don’t create them for yourself. It took me nearly seventy years to see, but if you would only listen and see that they are always there and that something is always there for you.”

“Then, what do I do with myself? I’ve tried. I-I can’t keep living like this. “I’ve been waiting all this time and nothing― “ Nothing was changing.

She grabbed my hand with her own and squeezed it tight. “Change is always available. Sam, honey, you’re the only obstacle in your way, so get out and let yourself be. Make your own sunlight. You can do whatever you want. Nothing is stopping you.”

And all of the sudden, I was crying. It really came out of nowhere. It really did. And the tears weren’t just a few small droplets, but waves of whatever had washed over me. I hadn’t cried since she had died. And nothing felt better to let it all out, and to just feel like there was at least some hope in this world.  

It was almost sunrise after we talked for a couple more hours and Old Janice had to get back to her house in order to make breakfast for her grandchildren. She said she was almost like a nocturnal animal, cause all she did during the day was sleep, but was restless during the night. She said that even if you couldn’t see it, there were always stars out during the night. She invited me to come over and meet her grandchildren, but I declined. I had another place I needed to be.

Grade
9

 

We sat like eskimos, huddled together, our eyes wide and blank. The door kept banging, and the voice continued. My mom started to cry, she got up and walked around the room, dialing a number.

“It’s okay”, she said, “They won’t do anything to us.”

But when her phone vibrated off, and even dad couldn’t hear our silent cry for help, she started to weep. It’s not comfortable hearing your mother weeping and a man banging on your door.

He came the next day, and his fists made the doorknob vibrate. He asked my mother for her name.

“What’s your name?” he’d get impatient, “tell me your name, god-damn-it” he slurred parts of his speech like Stallone. But Stallone didn’t make my mother cry.

I thought he was a coward. He was a monkey; an imitator. We all have a place, and that was his; a low-level sham that banged on people’s doors and tried to shove them letters and scream about vulture funds. My parents had a contract. A contract that asked good money for a 1 bedroom cold-tap piece of shit. Good money that my parents didn’t have.

It was a new chapter of fear for my mother. The screaming thugs came when dad wasn’t around, and we didn’t have any other choice but to sit there wide eyed. And mom would call dad, and then she’d cry. She cried so much I didn’t think we’d have to pay the water bill.

I was scared, but I couldn’t show it. When I’d walk with dad on Pearse St., his beer hand holding a bagged-up pale ale, his left hand on my shoulder, he’d turn. He’d turn and say, “Well, you’re growing up, you’re almost 15. I hope all this doesn’t scare you?” And I’d nod, just to stop his warm beer breath from hitting my face. And because I’d be a coward not to.

But still, there was something movie-like about all of it. It had become like a charade; a well-timed act of screaming and crying, screaming and crying. Something Woody Allen would film with some jazz music in the background. And it was fascinating because the menacing voice and the menacing man had become such a feared part of our days, yet we didn’t know his face or his name. We could have walked by him every day, and even given him a fake smile. We didn’t know.

All we knew was that those cowards knew to come when dad wasn’t around. Dad said he saw one of them when we were out of town. He said the guy ran off the second he pushed him off our lock. Cowards might have a strong voice, but if you look ‘em right in the eye they get scared. That’s what all this taught me.

And I’d stand with a voice recorder, holding it right next to the door, trying to catch a man that we’d never seen on his word. And one time, in the midst of loud jabber, he stopped. We didn’t know what it meant, we’d never listened to him. All we knew was that pounding was bad and silence was good.

And for half an hour, we sat still. It was unusual for us to sit in the evening with a calm door. We couldn’t just go on with everything like it never happened.

My mom stopped crying, and like she loved to do, repeated, “It’s okay… they won’t do anything to us.”

But it was hard to believe those words from a woman whose eyes were never dry. And like usual, she started to pace up and down the room, but this time without dialing on her phone; it had simply become muscle memory.

But then he knocked again, and my mother started to sob again. By now all of this felt natural.

He slurred something like “blue doormat” that we didn’t get, but when he left we opened the door. And our blue doormat was gone.

That was when my mom became someone else, and the cold-tap and the small rooms and stupid things like dog shit on the street started to make her cry. It made her cry more than she had ever cried before. And all her anger she saved for my dad- like it was all because of him.

And even though my dad could bag up quite a few pale ales in his day, he said he worked hard for us. He said he worked like a 51-year-old jubilee painting at an art gallery. I didn’t know what that meant; I just knew he had a big, nice office where he could escape all of it.

So he’d tell my sobbing mom that he worked around the clock, and even though he had to leave us, he loved us a real big ton. Sometimes it’d seem like it was really all that paperwork at his office that he loved.

But then my mom had become so weak from all the stress and anger that she had started to give in. She couldn’t yell back the slurring man, and she couldn’t even stay silent, her mental state had become so jumbled and weak. Sometimes I thought that the man would come to my mom at night, and cut her nerves apart and put them all together in a different way, just so he could toy with her the next day.

My mom finally gave in. All she wanted was to give the man our contract and let out more tears… that was all that helped.

 

Dad didn’t mind, he was strong in hard times, but he’d try to help my mom out if he could. And even though he felt it shameful to surrender in his fight, and give our guns to the enemy, he let my mom do what made her feel better. And so she came around to dad’s office, and started to search through all of the paperwork, to find our contract. She searched everywhere; in the drawers, on top of the shelves, under our blue doormat… even under our blue doormat she couldn’t find the contract in my dad’s office.

Grade
7

Change

 

Dust, dust is everywhere.

Sweeping across this barren land that is unknown to me

I try to stand up but  the wind pushes me down again

I think back to gym class, counting the amount of push-ups we could do

Racing to see who the fastest, yet here I am not even able to stand up

The only thought that runs through my mind:

I am different

The sun is blazing down on me like it’s ready to feast on every single piece of flesh

“Run into the jungle, wait for me at the blue capsule”

I see a figure running in the distance, it’s arms dancing in the wind

“Even if you don’t see me you have to jump

I remember falling through time ‘till here I am

In this desolate land where the closest thing to a person is a dust ball

“This is the only way it will work”

The figure is closer

It stands in front of me, leaning on its left side

Its head tilted

“I will come, I promise”

I will wait until you come

I promise

It holds out a hand

I take it, with one thing in mind:

“I promise”

Grade
7

A Different World

 

The thing about earth is that it's so small and yet this is the one planet that is so different from the others planets in the galaxy, so different that those things called humans has spread everywhere...

 

We live in a society that is advanced. People can read your mind and transport objects with them. This might seem interesting for a moment, but it can be used as a weapon.

 

Present Day

 

The world has turned into a Forbidden Forest.  Darkness is everywhere and people are wandering about trying to find whatever remains of their homes. A few years ago there was a civil war that tore everyone apart. The government was caught kidnapping ordinary people for an unknown experiment, trying to use their mutated brains to test them somehow. The rebels tried to fight back but the government was too strong. During this time, cities were destroyed and crops were burnt down by fighter planes. Now people are staying in safety camps where they have food, water, and shelter.

 

Where I am now is called the VISIT room. It’s where all the government’s experiments are, and it happens to be special. Why? I have no idea. It doesn’t seem like a very important place to me because there is dirt and dust everywhere. Plus, everytime it rains it looks like the roof is going to cave in. Somehow the people who work here seem to think this is a “top secret” room, but really they are crazy if they still believe that. At this very moment, there are people hacking into their system, breaking down their buildings until they are piles of rubble, and getting ready to aim their fire.

 

2 Days Ago

 

Shallow breaths, shallow breaths that’s the only thing that keeps me alive. Ann and Rune are alive and will come and get me. Keep it together, Cara. Shallow breaths…

I black out.

 

The blinding light is the only thing that keeps me awake. I feel a tiny needle poke into my lifeless arm.Someone says my name in the distance, but it’s to exhausting to talk. They let me sleep some more.

 

When I finally gain consciousness, I find myself in a dark, run-down, cold cell. There are no bars, just a bed and a toilet. I slowly walk to the front of the cell. This must be a joke. I propel myself forward into the muggy corridor. The carpet seems like it’s stained with something that looks a lot like blood. Suddenly, I see an outline of a person right behind me, I brace myself for impact waiting for the blow to come. Nothing happens. The person turns a dark shade of blue before walking right through me!

 

My heart is racing. What was that? I turn to look inside what seems to be a control room. There are switches everywhere and a remote control as well. Lastly, I see on the very tip of the control panel lies a bright red button. I know in the movies they say: Never press the red button, but they do it anyway, well that is what I did. Everything goes silent. I can’t even hear my own breathing. Turn around in a circle, a white globe forms around me. In the center of the of the globe lies 3 words: FIND THE EXIT.

 

What does that mean? The white globe dissolves around me making the temperature drop another 15 degrees. The lights in all of the rooms have all turned on, making hard for me to see anything. I look into the screen in the doorway, it says: Acess Denied, shutting down building in 5 min.

 

When I was still a child, I remember playing hide and seek with my sister, she would always tell me the key to staying hidden was to hide in hind sight. A whispering voice inside my head tells me to go to the beginning. Of course!

 

I race to the end of the corridor, from which I entered, the pale blue figure I saw earlier is nowhere to be seen. A book lies at the very entrance of the cell. The title of the book is An Adventure In Time. I look around, this is where I was when I first arrived, so the exit has to be here. I look up and see a yellow stained window. This is the only way out. I heave myself onto the ledge and pull the bars as hard as I can. Surprisingly, they come off. I break the glass with the bars and step into a room full of people.

 

All of them have warm smiles and are looking at me like it’s the happiest day of their lives. The leader says: Hello Cara! We are happy to say that you passed the initialization test. We are the leaders of the government, and have been watching you. You seem to have an interesting capability. Your brain can record and remember things to predict the future. We seek someone with this special knowledge for our secret mission. Will you agree to help us?

No, why would ever help you?

 

Present Day

 

Since I declined their offer, they put me in the VISIT room. They said if I didn’t agree to help them then I would never see my family again. I had no choice. I agreed to complete this secret mission and the only thing they told me was I was going to a different world.

5 Years Later

 

Dear family,

 

I hope all is going well, and that you are all healthy. I have had the experience of being involved in the greatest space mission ever. I have to say this has been a great change for me. The things I have seen on this mission, were only in my dreams before. I have to confess there is something  thing I regret . Though I have seen a lot of things in my time in space I realized that no matter what, family is the most important thing. The mission the government sent me on was to see if I, with my special capabilities, could live on a planet known as Wesater III by myself for a decade. I tried to get a hold of you, but they cut off communication from earth. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ended it. This was the message I sent:

MISSION FAILED, cannot be done.

So I know I chose to take this on myself, but if you can forgive me that is all I ask.

 

Love,

Cara

Grade
12

The golden sunset of the Serengeti taunts me. It knows that elegance can conceal evil- it knows what happens before nightfall. My heart is pulsing fast; and I want to surrender. I-

Boom. That abrupt crack sends my heart and body into a temporary paralysis.

Boom.

Another one.

The only option I possess now is to run; to run to the towering fence and jump it. With no time to rationalize, I launch myself forward. Ten seconds later, I soar to meet the top of the fence. Suspended like a thread, I attempt to swing over.

Boom. Spasms fire up my arm, weakening my grasp.

Boom. Pain explodes up my leg.

Stillness.

With a heavy huff, I use my last bit of energy to hoist myself over. I succumb then, agreeing to meet the other side with an excruciating thud- but knowing I will be free. I plummet into a trap instead.

I instantly feel the pain, and the draining blood. I glimpse to one side, and spot the vertically lined sharp utensils.

And before my last breath, I hear them.

 

"We've got him now,” I hear one of them say. “We got our gold winnin’ lion".