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Grade
7

“You don't have to do this!” I shouted down the alley ready to pursue them, but they came out of the shadows with a gun pointed at me.

“Yes, yes I do.” The bang resounded throughout the alleyway and suddenly I was falling. The world seemed to slow down, sirens blaring, flashes of red and blue lights appeared before my eyes.

The last thing I remember was when the paramedics came and wheeled me away to the ambulance, and I thought to myself, “Where did I go wrong?”

 

It started of an ordinary day at the police station, typing away at my desk when over the PA I heard, “Would Diana Wong please come to the conference room?”

I started to get up from my chair when my best friend in the force Kathy Lee grabbed my wrist and said, “Lucky! You already have a job!”

I shrugged and replied, “I guess.”

I was walking to the conference room when a senior officer I didn't know spit on my shoe and whispered in my ear, “You Orientals should stick with your math.”

His words stung like a knife in my side, but I held my head high so he wouldn't know. I joined the police force to make a difference, not to conform with society's views of Asians. We aren't all mathematicians.

 

I opened the door to the conference room and was met with the cold stares of my superior officers. The air was so thick I was nearly suffocating.

One of them coughed and said, “Diana, the reason you have been picked is that you might know the victim in this case.”

“Victim? What kind of case is this exactly, Sir?” I asked quietly, dreading the answer.

“A homicide,” and a picture flashed on the screen and my breath stopped. On the screen was my old Chinese teacher. It took all the strength in my body not to collapse right there.

“She worked at a school you used to go to,” he continued. I wanted him to stop talking, each word like another cut on my body, but I knew I had a job to do.

“Are you up to the task?” he asked staring at me intently.

“Yes Sir!” my head held high, I walked out of the room ready to prove myself to the world.

 

I pulled up to the school and got out of my car when the coroner ran out of the school towards me.

“Hey! I'm Carl, the coroner for this case,” he said, slightly out of breath.

“Ok, I’m Diana,” I replied nonchalantly, already walking to the doors of the school.

“Cool, well nice tohey wait up!” Carl started to frantically run after me, but I was already inside the school.

“Man, this place really brings back memories,” I said to no one in particular. It had been years since I had last been here, running around with my friends, playing games, and getting scolded by our teacher. I stopped that thought right there. I had to keep calm, not think about her, it was too much for me to handle. We walked into the auditorium and I saw something that shattered my heart. There was my teacher, Trixie Fong, dead on the floor, a bullet wound straight through her heart.

 

“Well, here’s the body,” Carl said, without any emotion.

That hurt a bit, just the way he said it.

“So when did she die?” I asked Carl so quietly that I would have thought he didn't hear me, but he responded.

“We don't know exactly, but we can approximate the time of death to be around 11:30 PM,” said Carl.

My next thought was, “Who found the body?”

Carl said in an instant, “It was found by the principal, Ms. Cropper.”

I remembered Ms. Cropper. She hated our Chinese school for no reason other than that we were there at night, but I was snapped out of my thoughts when I noticed a very interesting fact about my teacher’s corpse.

“Where is all the blood?” I asked Carl, trying to avoid looking directly at my old teacher, since it made me sick to my stomach.

“We found minute traces of the victim’s blood on the custodian’s equipment,” he said.

I was about to ask Carl another question when Ms. Cropper burst onto the scene.

“Hey! How is the investigation going?” she asked in her high and far too squeaky voice.

“Fine, really, but could you please leave the crime scene?” I asked.

She just stood there not moving, with her unwavering smile plastered on her face. In all honesty, she always had creeped me out.

 

“Oh! I just thought I would tip you off on who I think the killer is,” she said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“What! Who!” I almost yelled but resisted the urge to.

“Oh I think it's Mr. Rogers the custodian because of the lack of blood,” Ms. Cropper said while checking her nails. I almost agreed with her when I remembered something about the school that could give us solid evidence against the perp.

“Why don't we check the cameras on the doors?” I asked Ms. Cropper, when she replied far too quickly for my liking.

“We don't have to do that!” I could see the beads of sweat rolling down her face. She was being very suspicious, so I pushed the idea.

“Yes, let’s see the footage from the cameras,” I expected so many things, but Ms. Cropper pulling out a gun and pointing it at me was not one.

“It's too late now, I'll have to shoot you now,” her hand quivering so much she pulled the trigger by accident.

The shot missed me, but I heard Carl scream out in pain. when I looked back at him I saw his leg, it was bleeding profusely and then I heard Ms. Cropper running for the door.

“I need backup following the perp and an ambulance at Nature’s Path elementary school now!” I shouted into my walkie talkie while taking off for the door.

 

I was tailing Ms. Cropper’s car when she took a sharp left turn and I almost crashed into someone else's car and barely was able to pursue her. I saw her run down an alley and I got out of my car to follow her.

“You don't have to do this!” I shouted down the alley ready to pursue her, but Ms. Cropper came out of the shadows with a gun pointed at me and said

“Yes, yes I do”.

The bang resounded throughout the alleyway and suddenly I was falling. The world seemed to slow down, sirens blaring, flashes of red and blue lights appeared before my eyes. The last thing I remember was when the paramedics came and wheeled me away to the ambulance, and I thought to myself, Where did I go wrong?”  

Grade
11

 

On the exact date of November 20, 2010, at the exact time of 11 a.m., a young girl with two pink ribbons in her hair knocked three times on the door of the biggest house in her town. It was the kind of estate that looked like it should exist in a movie, for the grass in the yard was too green, the paint on the house too white, the expensive car perched in the driveway shining bright with freshly applied polish. The door was over twice the girl’s size, unsurprisingly, as the rest of the house towered above her as well.

The girl could barely contain her excitement as she mentally rehearsed her speech one last time. Waiting for someone to come to the door, her heart fluttered and she sighed, testing to see if she could see her breath in the winter air. After an excruciating moment had passed, she decided to ring the doorbell as well, and immediately she heard the sound of the bell reverberating across the cavernous rooms inside.

When there was still no answer, she rang the doorbell again, and then again, and then again. Finally, the door opened and there appeared a woman. She was elderly, maybe in her seventies or eighties the girl guessed, with a frown etched upon on her face and gray hair that stuck up as if she had rubbed a balloon against it. The woman’s hunched frame barely reached above the height of the ten-year-old girl standing in front of her.

“What do you want?” croaked the old woman.

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Molly and I -”

“No,” the woman interrupted, “whatever this is about, whatever it is you’re selling, I don’t want it.”

Molly was stunned. In her three years of selling Girl Scout cookies in the neighborhood, she had never received a “No” from an anyone. In fact, she had earned a badge last year for selling the most boxes of cookies in her Girl Scout troupe - one her proudest accomplishments in all her ten years of life.

Molly pushed her blond hair away from her face, trying to hide any sign of frustration. “But -”

“I told you, I don’t want to buy anything. Now leave before I call the police.” It was at this time that Molly noticed that the old woman’s right hand was tightly gripping a phone.

“You can’t call the police on me. My father is in charge of the police of this town,” Molly lied, “and he told me that it was legal to come sell these.”

“Well, you’re on my property right now, so this is trespassing.”

Molly quietly pondered the woman’s statement for a moment. Then, with a smirk, she turned around and walked down the front porch steps, down the driveway, and to the sidewalk, where she abruptly stopped. “This sidewalk is public property. So it’s not trespassing. And I can stay here as long as I want.”

The old woman opened her mouth as if about to say something, and then, seemingly speechless, she closed it and walked back into her house, slamming the door behind her.

“What a mean old lady,” Molly said to herself as the door shut, and she began to sulk as she walked away. As Molly glanced back at the preeminent house of the woman, she was filled with an odd determination: a determination to sell a box of Girl Scout cookies to the mean old lady on 230 Delaware Avenue.

The next Saturday, at exactly 11 a.m., Molly once again rang the doorbell of the old woman’s house. Through the window in the door, she could see that a light was on, so she waited until the same woman wearing the same frown came to the door. Then, she began her speech.

“Ma’am, I would really appreciate it if you would -”

“You’re back - again?” The woman sighed. “Do you even know the meaning of the word ‘no’?”

Molly shrugged. She walked to the sidewalk and sat cross-legged on the ground, looking up at the woman.

“What’s it going to take for you to leave me alone, stubborn girl?” The woman’s phone began to ring, and she looked down at it distractedly before addressing Molly again. “Do you want my money? You can have my money, if that’s what it’ll take for you to leave me alone.” The old woman hurriedly pulled a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from her pocket and extended it towards Molly, who ran up to take it happily, turned around, and walked back towards her own house.

Molly came back the next week, and the week after that, and the week after that, every time exactly at 11 a.m.. The old woman continued to give money to Molly almost instinctively now. In fact, Molly began to wonder if the old woman may even like their weekly routine. It became a sort of weekly appointment for them, Molly knocking on the door, the woman answering and stepping out onto the front porch, and then, eventually, bribing Molly not to sit on her sidewalk.

Christmas Day, December 25th, eventually approached, and, just like any day, the old woman woke up. She was Christian, but she didn’t believe in extravagant ceremonies or celebrations, and she didn’t have any close friends or family, so she went about her day like any other. At 11:30 a.m., she felt like something was missing, it was driving her crazy until she realized that the girl, Molly, had not come to her door. She decided to check the door anyway, out of habit more than curiosity. When she opened her door, however, she was shocked to see dozens and dozens of small boxes on her front porch and lining her driveway. Each box was individually wrapped, with a red bow sitting on the top of each one. The woman picked up the box closest to her and saw that it had a small note attached to it which read: “Thank you for all of your purchases over this pass month. Here are the Girl Scout cookies that you ordered.”

Out of sight of the woman, Molly stood on the sidewalk and watched as the old woman read the letter and gingerly unwrapped the box she was holding. She saw the woman examine the box closely, open it up, and eat one of the cookies. Then, though it was hard to tell through the thick haze of a winter blizzard, Molly thought that she saw the tiniest hint of a smile.

Grade
8

 

“Number ABC784?” A guy was calling the attendance. 

“Yes.” I answered.

“District 7 cleared.” The guy said and left the hall. Few minutes later, daily announcement came out.

“Today is December 23rd, 2207. Our community is always keeping you safe. Member who is trying to escape from this building will get punished and they can not return to the community. If you see someone trying to escape, immediately press any alarm bells on the wall. When the siren is on, you have to stay where you are.” The women with synthetic voice announced all rules. Every one was not paying attention to the rules that we hear everyday. We were waiting for the prize winner. Prize winner achieved chance to live at the safest place in the planet.

“Today’s winners for the release are………. ABC620, ABC893! Congratulations!” People who got called was smiling. Four guys came and escorted them to the secret door. We were looking their appearance from behind with an envious eyes. 

 After the morning announcement, my routine was same everyday. I went to Mr. Covet’s office and shared my dreams and thinkings. 

“Welcome, number ABC784. Okay, so tell me about your dreams.” He said.

“Yesterday, I saw small blue light flying through the room. I felt like I had to follow the light. It flew through the building and I was standing in front of the secret door. You know the door which winners for the release use to go to the safest place, right?” He nodded, and I kept sharing my dream.

“I was standing in front the door. I thought I was the winner. However there were no one near me. So I noticed that I wasn’t a winner. But still I felt inconvenience. I just wanted to imagine how the outside will be. I slowly put my ear to the door. Suddenly, I heard a scream. The scream was terrified and the creature at the other side of the door smacked the door and the opaque door turned red. I guess it was a blood. I felt that the creature -- or the winner, was willing to get out from there.”

“Hmmm..” Mr.Covet murmured. His face was mysterious. I couldn't guess what he was thinking. I continued my words.

 “Mr.Covet, I am really confused now. Everyday the woman in the announcement said world at the other side of the door is filled with hope, peace and happiness. However, inside of my dream the world was filled with fear, hardship, and hopelessness.” I said. I expected Mr. Covet to give a solution of my dream. His answer was no sincerity.

“ It is just a dream. Don’t take it so serious.” I noticed that he was different than normal. It was awkward but I knew that I couldn't get any help from him. I spend whole day thinking about my dream. 

That night I couldn't go to sleep. I crawl down from bed. It was dark and loomy. The only light was the light coming under from the door. I slowly walked toward the door. From the crack of the door, I could see no one was at the hall way. I secretly walked to the secret door. On the way, I saw the small blue light which was similar to the light in my dream.  I followed the light, and there was a hole next to the secret door. Before I never noticed a hole. It was a ventilator from other side of the door. 

“Wow…….” I lost my mind and watched what is going on. There was a ABC893 lying in the bed. People were surrounding him. There was a guy who covered his hairs and his mouth with white cloth. In his hand there was hose connected to the machine. He put the hose on ABC893’s mouth. Suddenly, ABC893 fell into sleep. Few minutes later, woman who looked exactly same as ABC893 came into the room. They looked exactly same. The only difference was the name. People who was standing around ABC893 called her “Ms. Kristin” like we call Mr. Covet. 

“Is it true that I can use it’s legs to walk again?” Woman named Kristin said to the guy, holding the hose.

“Yes. After few hours, you will have a new legs which is exactly same as your legs you lost by the accident.” He replied to her.

“Nice. This is why people need their own bionic man.” She laughed.

“ Bionic man what are they talking about? Why there are so many people out there?” I talked to myself.  Later, Kristin and ABC893 sented to the other room. I slowly opened the ventilator and jumped down to the floor. I walked outside of room, and there was many people wearing white jackets running through the hallway. I looked around and found a template with the drawing of two men standing together. 

Is there any ways to recover my injury like you never get an injury?

There is a one good way. Bionic Men.

Just call to the number below and you will get all the information about the bionic man.

By all information that I got, I -- including all citizens in our community, am bionic man which is created by humans. Reasons why we are made is for scientific experiment, and recovery of injury. When we get released, it means our original person is injured and we are going to provide our body parts for them. I made a detailed notes about all facts and shared it to every other citizens. 

“Even though we are bionic man and made by science, we still need our basic rights” All citizens in the community agreed with me. 

“We need to escape from this malice building.” Someone said. We started to make a plan. During 3 to 5 am, we are all going through the hole and going to the world where real humans live. Quietly everyone escaped from the building and covered our tracks by being part of the real life society. 

After 17 years, now I am concealing from the people that I am a bionic man, but working as a writer of scientific article I put the reality of bionic mans and why we need rights for them.

 

 

Grade
11

She’s there. In that place again. She hears the cries of terror and the spitting flames and everything is just as she remembers it. The two Monsters are there too, lying on their backs, unmoving. Kneeling beside them, she tries everything to make them stir.

 

Nothing. Not even a twitch; not a sound escapes their painted black lips. She screams and screams: wake up, wake up, wake up…

 

“WAKE UP!” she pants heavily, slightly shocked by her own voice. Sitting up, in bed, no longer at that place. She looks out the window. There’s snow falling.

 

Her robe shrouds her frame apathetically as she shuffles her bare feet out of the room. She opens the front door, and the angry wind hits her; she can almost taste the bitterness of the blow. Her eyes automatically narrow, tearing from the cold. She doesn’t care about the few icy flakes that make themselves at home on her carpet. She is, in fact, fond of the slight mess left behind. Because it feels like she’s welcoming someone home. Welcoming them home.

 

She misses the way they ran circles around the table, with laughter so pure and unearthly, with lips spreading back to reveal a perfect, incomplete set of teeth. ‘Tag’ was their favorite little game - oh, how they loved to chase and chase each other. One of the boys would eventually get tired and stop in his tracks; the other would not stop in time and end up crashing into him, causing them to fall onto the carpet, giggling like they’d never been happier.

 

She’d smile down at them from her chair and tell them to get ready for school. She’d fetch their bags and lunches and shoo them towards the door. The screech of the school bus braking would send them bolting as they turned their heads slightly, yelling their goodbyes.

 

Blinking tears away, she shuffles past the carpet and out the door, dressed only in a robe and slippers. She shudders but walks on, staggering her way down the short flight of steps. The yard is buried under a thick blanket of snow, and she smiles because they would’ve been happy that school was cancelled. She closes her eyes as she remembers them hastily wearing their scarves (only to please her, of course) before running out into the yard. They’d flop onto this crunchy bed of frost and sweep and flap their limbs back and forth, back and forth.

 

“Look, Mummy! Look! Angels!” they’d shout in triumph.

 

“You’re right, darlings,” she’d reply. “Why don’t you go make some more?”

 

Her eyes snap open when someone, a neighbour, asks her why the hell are you stepping out in this weather dressed like that? She doesn’t know what to say or do, so she goes back inside. Her hands, fingers, feet, toes, everything has gone numb.

 

“Guess what, mummy?” one of them said to her one day when they’d gotten off the bus and come inside. “We learnt about Frankenstein today.”

 

“What did you learn, sweetheart?”

 

“Frankenstein’s Monster wasn’t very well-liked,” he said, pouting. “Our teacher showed us a picture and all the girls screamed. But we’d be his friend, you know, if he was real! And we’d make angels with him. In the snow.” He smiled, showing off two little black spaces where teeth should’ve been.

 

Once back inside the house, she closes the door and inches her way to the fireplace. She slowly regains feeling in her limbs. She stares at the crackling flames. She stares as they crackle and spit and jump and dance.

 

The boys were thrilled to go on their first trick-or-treating around the neighbourhood. Even the other parents were excited to see two adorable Frankenstein’s Monsters asking for candy.

 

“Mummy, mummy, let’s go!” one of them whined, gripping her hand and tugging on it.

 

“Mummy, mummy, they’ve all started!” the other whimpered.

 

“Yes, alright, darlings, let’s go,” she opened the door and chuckled as her two Monsters dashed past her legs, roaring, growling, chasing each other.

 

The sounds of her Monsters grew fainter as they ran out onto the street. Her back was to them as she locked the door, and it had only been a few seconds—

 

An agonizing, ugly screech. A crash so thunderous, so deafening, that her eardrums rang and the ringing did not stop until it scuttled like a vile spider across her skull.

 

She turned.

 

The blood in her veins froze solid, and her limbs were overtaken by a numbness so strong she could have collapsed if she had not run; and how she ran, ran, pushed her way past all the neighbours and their children.

 

A blistering wave of heat cut through the crisp, fall air, and it slapped her in the face when she reached the the middle of the street. She just stared. She stared at the car, crumpled like paper against the tree. She stared at the crackling, spitting flames that jumped at her.

 

Her two Monsters lay there, face paint smeared across their unmoving faces. No longer roaring or chasing or smiling or laughing. They lay on the grey, scarlet-splattered asphalt, their limbs spread.

 

She couldn’t hear a thing, couldn’t feel a thing as her knees buckled and she fell, almost prostrate, before her Monsters. They lay with their limbs spread, like they were making angels.

 

The flames flickered and danced, and they spat in her face.

 

It’s much warmer now. She thinks of her Monsters on the asphalt. How cold they must have been on the ground. She remembers how cold they were when she cupped their faces in her hands before being pulled away. The poor things, she thinks with deep sadness, they will never feel the warmth of the fireplace again. They used to sit in front of it, cross-legged, listening to her tell their favourite story, the story about the Monster.

 

The clock perched on the wall ticks, tocks, ticks, tocks. Time to try again.

 

She rises from the couch and shuffles over to the door leading to her basement. The door creaks open and she pulls the string, and with a click casts a dull light over the staircase . As she walks down the wooden steps, she recalls how much they loved the Monster - they would read the novel over and over again; watch the movies over and over again. She always allowed them to do so as many times as they wanted, for a good mother does everything to make her children happy. And she smiles at this thought, because her work in the basement would make them happy, and so, she is a good mother.

 

Two long tables, side by side, and she smiles even wider knowing that her Monsters are kept warm by the musty air that lingers above them, like a pendulum suspended in motion.

 

“Hello, my angels,” she whispers, leaning down to plant a kiss on one of the pale, cold foreheads. “Mummy’s here.”

 

The Monsters do not stir from their deep slumber. Their eyes remain shut, their marble-like white skin mottled with scars and stitches from her many attempts to wake them. She gingerly takes one of their hands in hers, and somehow its lifeless grip is so much stronger than when it grabbed her that Halloween night. She quickly lets go.

 

“You’ll wake up soon, my angels. You know mummy promised you that, right?”

 

They do not reply, like always. She feels like she is playing their favourite game with them. Oh, how they loved to chase and be chased...it was their favourite, and she is comforted by that. There is comfort in that.

 

Tonight, she will try again. And she will keep trying until she, like Doctor Frankenstein, brings her Monsters to life.

Grade
6

             The last days of the queen of hearts

                         

 

The day started out like any other. With an attack from the royal guard.

“Come on guys. Hurry up!” called Brad as he grabbed his sword.

“Coming!” a voice called as a woman appeared next to him directly followed by a man on his other side.

“Rebecca! You said that your magic would hide us through the night!” said the man.

“Yeah… and it did! It concealed us through the night. I never said anything about in the morning!” the woman, Rebecca, said defensively as she and the man rose to claim their weapons.

“Not this again,” muttered Brad. The soldiers, no doubt sent by the queen herself, were almost to their base.

“Bradley Wilson,” said the leading soldier in a formal voice, “either yield to her majesty the queen willingly or we will be forced to… well you know by now what we will forced to do…”

“Yeah yeah we’ve been over this.” said Rebecca said rolling her eyes.

“Well I have a message for the queen,” Brad replied ignoring Rebecca. He raised his scimitar sword. “I hate being called Bradley,” he said as he swung nearly decapitating the soldier’s head.

With that a battle erupted. Rebecca stood at the highest point of the base and fired shurikens, with precise accuracy, at the invading troops while Brad took on the commander head-on.

“Grayson cover me!” Brad shouted.

“On it,” Grayson replied as he instantly appeared at Brad’s side. Together, Brad and Grayson took on the commander and his generals until, finally, the commander gave in.

“Retreat!” yelled the commander to his remaining troops. The soldiers scrambled to their feet and ran as Rebecca fired the last of her shurikens.

“Well… that went well.” said Grayson breaking the silence.

“Sure…” said Rebecca in her usual sarcastic tone.

“Do you remember the whole reason this thing started? With the queen?” Brad asked no one in particular.

“Of course,” said Rebecca, “the queen is madly in love with you… totally normal reason for all this...” she said gesturing towards the direction of the retreating royal guard. They all thought back to how this problem started in the first place.

Chloe Wells always wanted love. Her father died just before she was born and her mother abandoned her the second she was. She was left on the doorstep of a rich merchant who made her his servant. She grew up working for him her whole life alongside his son, Eric. While working Eric, she fell in love with him, and eventually became hopelessly obsessed with him. Unfortunately for her the gesture was not returned, as Eric was arranged to marry one of the princesses.

Years past until finally it was the day of Eric’s wedding. At this point Chloe’s obsession with Eric was nearly to the point of insanity. She started to see things. Hear voices. Her desperate craving for love made her do crazy things. Dangerous things. Until one day she decided she couldn’t stand it anymore. If she couldn’t have the love of her life no one could. She made a plan to murder the princess and the entire royal family… and then she did.

 

She snuck into the room where the royal family and shot them all. What she did not realize at the time was that Eric was in the room as well as the royal family and while she was mindlessly shooting the royals, she accidently shot and killed Eric as well. Driven by the grief of killing her love she vowed that someday she would get the happiness and love that she  deserved. From that moment Chloe Wells took on the name “The queen of hearts” and became the queen, claiming that the royal family had left the entire kingdom and army to her. The royal family being dead and no one else left to lead, the most citizens gladly accepted her as their leader. Those who didn’t were killed or mysteriously disappeared.

Through a series of circumstances the queen met Brad who she, of course, fell for. Brad, who had no intention of having anything to do with the queen, had been on the run ever since.

wea“Anyway,” said Brad breaking the silence, “Today I plan to end this once and for all. Mark my words the queen will fall and it will be by my hand.”

 

                                                     Three hours later     

Brad, Rebecca, and Grayson managed to take out the first wave of the imperial guards  and were about to infiltrate the palace.

“Are you sure that this is really necessary?” Rebecca asked throwing a shuriken.

“Who’s side are you on anyway?” Brad replied annoyed. Rebecca rolled her eyes.

“Yours duh. I just think that this is a pointless attack.”

“I agree,” said Grayson, “Why exactly are we rushing into this battle?”

“Because I am tired of running” Brad answered.

“So because you are tired of running we are ALL gonna die… yay…” said Rebecca. Brad stopped.  

“You know, if you guys don’t want to do this you don’t have to.” he said.

“Please, like you could survive without us.” said Grayson.

    “I cannot believe I am saying this but I agree.” said Rebecca. “You won’t admit it but you can’t do it without us.”

    “Shhh.” said Brad.

    “Don’t you…- ”

    “Shh... I’m serious.” Brad said in a hushed voice. They were clocked by magic and were nearly to the throne room where, according to an inside source. the queen was supposed to be.

“What is it ?” Grayson said in the same hushed tone. Brad pointed at the room across the hall. It had the royal crest on it. Cautiously the three of them crept towards the door, trying ever so much to avoid the guards on both sides of the door. “Okay so how exactly are we going to get inside?”

“You two go. I will cause a diversion.” replied Rebecca. Carefully she removed the cloaking spell, and attached a bomb to one of her shurikens.

Finally one of the guards noticed her. “Hey who are-” with great haste Rebecca fired her shuriken at the opposite end of the hall. It exploded, causing a fire, and within moments the entire east hall erupted in flames. Three of the guards rushed towards the fire, two of them went into the throne room, but one of them started chasing Rebecca. Instinctively she ran in the opposite direction of the Brad and Grayson, but didn’t get far before she was captured.

At this point the cloaking spell that had made Brad and Grayson invisible had worn off. Brad nudged Grayson as the both of them walked into the throne room. Inside were many drapes and tapestries showing the Queen and the dead royal family. One in particular showed Eric and the princess that he was supposed to marry, only the part with the princess was ripped and parts of her were charred as if the queen had tried and failed to burn it.

“Well if it isn’t my Bradley,” said the queen appearing out of nowhere. The look in her eye was of sheer insanity. Brad glared at her with pure hatred.

“You.” he said with a sneer. He let out a battle cry and charged at her. Just as he was about to strike her, he was stopped by a guard. Struggling he called out to Grayson only to find that he was captured by another guard.

“No. No! NO!” Brad yelled finally losing the grip of the soldier. He ran towards the queen, with all his fury, unsheathing his sword. In that one second the world stood still. In that one moment in time, the balance between good and evil shifted. In that point of time it was made clear that nothing is truly good and nothing is truly evil. It is only what we define it.  But sometimes because of circumstances our definitions change. You might think of this as one of those circumstances or you might not. The decision is up to you. In that moment, Bradley Wilson, someone who had a bright future full of possibility became a murder. Because in that moment Brad killed the queen.

 

                                               One day later

“Well congratulations Brad. you're officially a murderer.” said Rebecca.

“Yeah, yeah but it is not like you are not.” he replied. Rebecca rolled her eyes.

“What do we do now?” asked Grayson.

“Now? well I don’t know. Just go where destiny is calling.” Brad replied as they all walked out of there hiding place. Into the great beyond. Into the midnight.

 

   

 

 

Grade
7

Prologue:

So here I am. Sitting. Looking at a bleach white wall, not moving, just, staring. Wishing to be above the ground on top of this mountain I am trapped beneath. I wish to be under the dark sky full of the dancing sliver of the night. I wish to be with my mom, my dad, my sister, my brother even, but no I am here, waiting.

 

Men In The Dark Glasses

 

 

It all started on June fifteenth, two days before school let out. The ambiance of summer floated lightly around the room. Everyone was beaming and wiping their desks down. No one but my friend Kris and I noticed the burly policeman with dark shades that had just swept in and took Kris into the hallway. I glanced up at Ms.Jopkins (my fifth-grade teacher) and she didn’t seem to notice either. As minutes passed I became slightly concerned. Being the curious person I am, I had to check to see what was happening. Kris is the kindest, quietest and best-behaved person I’ve ever met (to be fair, which is not a lot of people) - what could she have ever done? I slipped closer to the door and pressed my ear to the cold metal.

 

“She did nothing” Kris exclaims.

 

Who is this “she” I wonder?

 

A deep voice answers, “Are you sure, girl?”

 

“Yes,” she manages to croak out.

 

I hear the policeman opening a case and pulling out a clunky metal machine that I suspected to be a polygraph. I peek around the corner and find that my suspicions are correct. I hear Kris being hooked onto the machine. I know that sound by heart because my mom is a policewoman in another city. She once told me that polygraphs aren’t very reliable, you can “beat” them by simply calming your nerves. I sneak one more glance around the corner and see Kris’s panicked face. I try my best to mentally communicate to her to calm down! I almost yell out to her but I quickly remember the policeman standing next to her and I refrain.

 

While this is going on I had not noticed that my teacher is handing out end of the year report cards. I hear Kris’s name being called and I walk over to pick it up for her to do her a favor.  Ms.Jopkins doesn’t seem to care about this. My packet is next since Kris’s last name is Warren and mine is  Ziegler.  Ms.Jopkins gives me my report card but hesitates a second and says “Elle you had an extraordinary report card - I suggest you partake in advanced mathematics”.  I nod in agreement and walk away toward my desk and sit down. I pull out my report card and find that I have all A’s. I don’t have much time to soak in the glory before the policeman walks back in with a handcuffed sobbing Kris. Now he has the whole class’s attention. The looks on their faces are all saying “Really, Kris?”  He walks over to Ms.Jopkins and whispers some harsh words to her. She nods, and he walks over to me and handcuffs me as well! I freeze in shock as he drags Kris and me out of the building and shoves us into a police car. For some reason, the police car has no light on top.

 

He turns out the sirens and we speed off. Kris looks at me for reassurance but I can’t offer much. We just sit there in silence staring at each other. Finally, she manages to squeak out “Elle, we're gonna be okay, right?” Knowing that Kris has anxiety issues I try my best to reassure her by nodding a little bit. She sighs a bit. Then I timidly ask “are our parents being called?” He nods gruffly and keeps driving. I sit there for what feels like hours. I smell a funny garbage like smell. Suddenly I fall asleep.

The next day in the Bentley Hollow Journal:

Missing, two girls accompanied by a policeman. Last seen at Bentley Elementary. Eloise Ziegler is an 11 year-old caucasian female with blond hair and brown eyes, last seen in a green shirt with a blue jacket and blue jeans about 5 foot. Kris Warren is a 10 year-old pale caucasian female with red hair, pale blue eyes, and freckles last seen in the purple shirt with a flower on it and blue jeans about 4 ft 5 inches. Policeman(name unknown)is a male (age unknown) with brown hair and brown eyes last seen in policeman's outfit about 6 ft 3 inches.

I wake up in a white room with nothing in it. As I gain consciousness I realize I am sitting in a gray metal chair. Not only sitting but I am tied down to the chair! Then it all hits me.The car ride - the funny gas - and Kris, wait where is Kris? I start panicking even more than I already am. I struggle against my restraints for a couple minutes but get nowhere.

 

An hour later a tall slender man with dark glasses strides in and places a plate of food in front of me and says to eat. He unlocks the chains restraining me and walks away. I am left staring at a plate of awful looking food but I do what I am told and eat. I take bite after bite of the green pile of mush and slowly spoon some into my mouth and attempt to swallow; it barely makes it down. I continue this process until my green mush is gone.

 

About two uneventful days have gone by. They never turn the lights off so I am not totally sure exactly how many days have passed. Every day the same thing happens, the man slips through the door with green mush, unties me, leaves, I eat green mush, he comes back to pick up the plate and ties me back up again. I am guessing they have cameras somewhere in the room but I am yet to find them. I try to sleep most of the time but it is hard because of the blinding lights.

Just as sleep starts to fall over me I hear the blaring of sirens and my door opens all the way. A scruff malnourished boy peers in and curses and says “wrong room” and almost slams the door but then says “What the hell? Come on, you ready to get out of here?” I nod my head enthusiastically and he grabs me and runs. I say “wait, what about my friend!” And he replies with “Forget about it, you can tell the police later. But for now, do you want to live? Answer Yes. Well then let's go.” He opens another door and a small boy is curled up inside. He runs out with the small child in his arms and shouts “GO! GO! GO! GO!”, even though it sounded more like “GOGOGOGO!”. He takes some very weird winding and confusing turns while sprinting at top speed, which is much faster than I could ever go but somehow I manage to not fall too far behind. We reach a big metal door and he tells me to stop and stay here with Chase. He hands me the small child and runs down a different corridor. It is just me, the sirens and this “Chase”. I wonder where the guards could be but my thoughts are interrupted by the rumbling of heavy footsteps. We have company. The kid who broke me out appears by my side and the door pops open.

 

A line of heavily armed men wearing glasses face us and the boy whispers ”Don’t move”. I freeze. I pretend that there is ice seeping into my veins slowly freezing me. The men don’t move either. We stand there for five minutes and suddenly the men nod to each other and leave. We walk straight out of this horrid place. We are left facing a raging river.

 

“The ‘glasses’, they only sense movement.”

 

I look at him dumbfounded.

 

“My name is Jasper by the way”.

 

“I’m Elle”, I reply breathlessly, “ How do we leave this island?”

 

“The ‘copter should be here in three, two, one...”  

 

A helicopter touches down right on top of the building. We grab Chase who is still asleep and scamper up the white dome that just ten minutes ago we had been trapped inside. The helicopter driver is also wearing those glasses. Jasper approaches him and starts punching him in the guts. While the guy is holding his gut, Jasper sneaks up behind him and takes him out. “Grab Chase and get in the ‘copter.” I do as I am told. “Do you know how to fly one of these?” He replies “Um no.” He reaches down into his pants pocket and extracts a pair of the glasses that all the guards were wearing. He tells me “Once I put the glasses on I will know how to fly the ‘copter. But once we touch down, do all you can to get them off me. Because if they are on too long I will get addicted to them”. “How do you know all about these glasses?” I ask. “‘Cause I invented them.” Then he slips on the glasses and the copter takes flight.

 

The flight lasted about an hour until we started to see land. Jasper began to lower the helicopter into the middle of a street. I got ready to wrestle the glasses from Jasper. The heli touched down and I grabbed Jasper and in one swift movement, yanked the glasses off. “Thanks” he murmured.

 

“What just happened?”

 

“Well, I just landed a ‘copter in the middle of a street in...I don’t know. Now where is Chase?”

 

I hand him the sleeping child. “We need to get him to a hospital now!” Jasper exclaims.

 

“Well I think our ride has arrived.”

 

About twelve police cars surround us. We slowly get out of the copter with our hands up. They point all their guns at us. Once they see we are just kids, they all motion to lower the guns. We drop our hands and who I believe is the police chief approaches us. He takes one good look at me and says “Hey, aren’t you that missing girl from Bentley Hollow?” I nod slowly. “Where is the other one then?” I look at the ground. He nods. The policeman looks at Jasper and shouts to his men “cuff him”. He grabs me and pulls me away from Jasper. “Stay away from this one - he is one of the most wanted criminals”

 

We are shoved into different police cars and taken to the station for interviews.

 

A couple hours later I am on my way back to Bentley Hollow without Kris. That's what hurts the most. I overheard that the small child Chase was taken to the hospital and is doing a lot better. The police tell me they are rescuing all the kids trapped in that facility. I still wonder what went on there but for now I am satisfied.

 

Epilogue:

Jasper’s Police Report:

Jasper Cengi Lacelooth is a 16 year-old male.Against his will he got involved in helping the Truce Company create a testing site for mutating children. Jasper and his brother Chase were one of the first kidnapped to be tested on. They soon realized that Jasper was a technological genius. He was threatened with his sanity and his brother’s life to create the glasses. In a couple of months, his picture was leaked and he was added to the most wanted list. The glasses were finally done but Truce realized there were two major flaws. One, the glasses weren't able to sense movement and two, if you wore the glasses too long you started to get “addicted” to them. One man kept his glasses on too long and started putting the glasses on all the others at Truce and soon no one could take the glasses off.  Jasper had already been locked away so he had no knowledge of this. But when the people who entered to feed him,  they always made the same exact path towards him and did all the exact same movements. He put two and two together - all the men were being controlled by the same program, his program. He didn’t know what to do so he made a plan to escape with his brother. He had thought his brother was in Elle’s room but he was wrong and that is how he met Elle. They eventually found his brother and escaped by helicopter and landed on a busy street in Stuart, Florida.

Kris was found later and brought home to her delighted family.

Grade
9

“Here,” I say to Ace, “for the journey.” I throw him the tan “Life is Good” t-shirt we found for him in Youngstown. It's the little reminders like this that'll hopefully keep him sane, okay, happy.

“Thanks, Cass.” Ace replies, tracing the shirt with his thumb. His voice is slow and smooth like water flowing down a brook, the kind that used to charm all of the teachers.

He was the “brilliant” kid back in grade school. Every single parent-teacher conference that Dad went to, brilliant seemed to be the word of the hour. But Ace's brilliance always came with a minor downside.

Unruly, distracting, they said.

But they always brushed it off.

Boys, they always want to play. It might just be a boy thing, nothing big to worry about.

For a long time, that's what everyone thought it was -- just a boy thing. It was just a boy thing for Ace to flaunt $250 in kids faces to then buy pizza for the entire class. It was just a boy thing that he smashed my cello, the one I spent a year working at Burger King for. It was just a boy thing.

"Once boys get something in their head, who knows what they'll do."

That's what Ace's school therapist told me as I stood in her doorway crying with the bridge of my cello in my hand. That's what she told my Dad when he told her how Ace had stolen his credit card and had chalked up 500$ worth of clothes on it.

Shortly after those incidents, Ace got tested for mental illness. My dad and I thought that we could finally live our lives in peace. Finally we can put a label on Ace, so that when people look at us like we're the ones who are wrong, we have something to blame. But no. Ace received no diagnosis, and going into his high school years we still had no answers.

        Dad and I never gave up, asking everyone we knew if they or someone they knew could tell us anything different. We took Ace to get tested multiple times by countless doctors that all had the same weary stare with the same drooping answer, no diagnosis. And so we lived with Ace's antics and unpredictability all the way up until his junior year, when he hopped on a train to Chicago. He stopped at a motel, tried to get a room, and ended up getting sent to juvie where he stayed until Dad came to pick him up. That time, we were determined to get an answer, and when we went to a new doctor suggested by my teacher Ms. Bordeaux, we got one.

“Ace is bipolar.”

We found an inpatient treatment center in Bridgeport, 45 minutes from where we lived. We'd heard some good things about it from people around town and at the Stone Center, the local place Ace goes to every day. Once we had talked it over with Ace, it was decided that he would attend their six month program in place of senior year.

And now here we are, saying our farewells to Ace.

Dad smooths Ace's loose curls away from his forehead, and their eyes meet. Like they are having a conversation in a room with closed doors and drawn blinds. For a moment we three are not family. For a moment they only have each other.

“You'll be fine? Behave well?” Dad asks, still locked into Ace's stare. Ace snorts and chuckles, replying,

“Yeah, Dad. I'll try.” Mr. Mathis, Ace's new mentor, beckons for Ace to hop into the car, the silver Volkswagon fresh from the car wash. Brushing against my shoulder, Ace throws a kiss on my cheek, and the sun glints in his eyes like a sparkler. Ace throws on the shirt I gave him before ducking into the car. He manages a small wave as he pulls out of the driveway, and as the car shrinks smaller and smaller down our sun-tanned road, I hear him call,

“Don't worry about me.”

Yeah, Ace. I'll try.

 

*****

 

It's been four weeks today since Ace left our house. Four weeks since I heard that chocolate smooth voice, four weeks since I saw those curls soft as ribbons, four weeks that I've had “for sures” in my life. That when I came home from school, my house wouldn't be burnt down, reduced to embers and echoes. That when I went upstairs, there was no need to check the number of suitcases in the attic and if the clothes in Ace's closet were still there.

Four weeks where I finally was able to let go.

Of course, I'll can’t let go completely. He sends emails to us sporadically; we've gotten three since he left. He says life at the center isn't that bad. He's met a guy named Peter who's from our town, and they play basketball on the courts together after lunch every day. Mr. Mathis is taking good care of Ace too, they even went out canoeing on the Arbor River together, just the two of them.

Maybe getting away from us was best thing for him.

Right now, I'm sitting on the couch watching 60 Minutes with Dad, him chomping on a bowl of dried oats with a glass of lemonade. I'm not much better, eating Top Ramen with milk. The structure in our lives has broken apart quite a bit since Ace left. This is just a typical dinner, these days.

“Any ideas about your birthday, Cass?” Dad asks, stuffing a fistful of oats into his mouth. I shrug, turning my attention back to the news. I haven't really planned out anything even though my birthday is so close. “It's in three days! Don't you have any idea of what you want to do? Special dinner? Party with friends? Whatever you want.” At school, Rachel and Keith have been pestering me about having a party with the lunch table crew after school on Friday, but I've been trying to avoid the topic. I don't really know if being with all of my friends for my birthday feels right this year.

“How about something just the two of us?” I ask, with a hint of uncertainty in my voice. Is it sad that I want to spend my birthday with my dad instead of my best friends? Dad's eyebrows raise in confusion, his ears tilting to listen. I sigh, sinking my shoulders. “Okay, I get it, we live with each other 24/7, but after all that's happened with Ace, I kind of just want it to be us. But that's okay, right?”

“That's fine, it's great. I just want to do what you want Cass.”

“How about Ray's for dinner?”

“The one in Bridgeport?”

“Yeah. I mean we are going to visit Ace on Monday anyway. Spending the weekend in Bridgeport would be nice. We can go kayaking in the river, too. ”

“Well Cass, you've got a deal. I'll call to make the hotel and dinner reservation right now.”

And so my birthday plans are set. But we still need one more present to bring to Ace on Monday.

Mr. Mathis called Dad last Wednesday to talk to him about Ace's progress.

It's amazing, he said. Your boy Ace, he is responding extremely well.

In the next month, he might even be ready for discharge! At the Center, they have a weekend camping trip up in the Fugit Mountains for the kids who are doing especially well, and Ace was invited to go! He always loves being high up, watching everything happen from above. Because when you're high above everyone else, there is no one with a long enough reach to bring you down.

Dad already has two presents for Ace, the quilt from Ms. Bordeaux and the Beats headphones from us. Originally, he wanted to bring ten presents for Ace, but I was able to convince him that three was the magic number. Sometimes, Dad goes overboard to make up for all the stuff that Ace and I went through as kids. It's enough Dad, I'll say, you're enough for us.

I ended up finding a robotics kit at 936, a robot repair shop downtown. Ace always dreamt of being on our school's robotics team, but his behavioral record was enough for the school to ban him from joining any clubs. Dad and I would bring him the stuff when we could, but between the expense of his meds and his daily visits to Stone Center, we never had money for much. 

 

*****

 

The wrapped up presents are sitting in the trunk of the car, nestled between crumpled maps and paper bags. We made it to Ray's, finally, after an accident on the highway put us back an hour. Luckily, Ray's decided to keep our reservation after being reminded by Dad that it was my birthday. Just from the name, you'd expect it to be more of a trucker type place, but it's surprisingly formal. I had to scrounge up a dress that I haven't worn since the 8th grade formal; yes, it's that fancy. Their crab cakes make everything worth it, though.

We scurry in and are seated at a booth by the window. The streets are lonely at this time of night; the street lamp only illuminates a few silhouettes as they pass by. A soft breeze makes the trees shiver, moving their branches ever so slightly.

The night is calm, calm like our house these past few weeks. The calm I wished for my last birthday.

But it's the calm that doesn't ever last long. Dad's phone blares from his pocket, and with a heaving sigh he takes it out and glances at the screen.

Fear and sudden urgency flood his eyes as he jumps from our table, throwing his coat on and grabbing my hand as he pulls me toward the door. People raise their eyebrows at the spectacle, of us leaving our meals untouched, running out with no explanation. They glance at me, sorry I have a madman for a father.

Stumbling down the sidewalk, the braids in my hair beginning to loosen, I manage to croak,

“Why Dad? What's going on? Why?” His voice ragged and out-of-breath, he says,

“It's from Mr. Mathis. It's Ace. Oh god Cass, they can't find him. Cass, he's missing!”And we are like lightning, our car dashing through the street, darting around corners, narrowly missing street signs. There is no one in our way, no one...and then there are sirens. Sirens of a squad car, chasing souls into the night. A battered pink Sudan runs past us, quickly followed by the squad car. They swerve, curving the moonlight as they go past. The driver in the Sudan looks back for a moment, eyes locked on the police. He looks manic. I see the glint of his eyes, the mysterious craze that's washed over his face. It’s too familiar.

Dad and I, for a moment, are the same voice, same mind. And we whisper:

Ace. 

Just like that, we are one in the chase. Just as the two cars disappear around a corner, they come into few again. Soon we are spiraling up a hill, like ice skaters we glide over the cement, the top of the hill in our sights. 

I feel a small rumble in the backseat. A few small tremors that turn into full on earthquakes in a matter of seconds. We are lurching up the hill, plumes of smoke erupting from our trunk. The tremors subside, and there is a brief silence in the air, followed by a push that sends us back down the hill into the grass. 

My ears stretch, reaching to hear any sign of the siren. It seems only a faint echo now, almost as though it has stopped ringing completely.

Suddenly a hand grips my arm, and my gaze rises to my father's face. He bleeds terror like blood. Like it is what he is made of. Like it runs through his veins.

“Cass, you’ve got to run, you have to catch up! With my legs, I can’t. There’s hope, Cass. Please. Go.” 

Against the pavement my feet were like fire, zipping across the landscape, tearing apart the land at the seams and consuming it with determination. Bram's heartbeat fills the air, a hammer splintering the inside of my head with each pulse. He is close.

Reaching the top of the hill, there are three cars facing each other, the two police cars and the Sudan. The guns hiss threats at me, squirming in their cases. None of them have heard or seen me yet, and they won’t. Not unless something really bad is going to happen. I duck behind the Sudan, looking beneath the car to the six feet shuffling in front of me. Their shouts rain down like meteors crashing down from the sky. Bram is spewing insults at the officers like they are his language. And all of a sudden, I hear Bram’s heels digging into the cement. Now, his words are tripping over themselves, with every syllable they quicken. The sound of Bram's breaths filling the entire sky. They are persistent, they are urgent. 

His feet disappear from my view beneath the car, and without a second thought my legs push me upright. He is running down the road, each stride so afraid yet so invincible at the same time. 

But each step he takes is one too many.

Because the two policemen whip out their weapons like it's in their nature and shots fire, the bullets weaving through the darkness like they have eyes. As they collide with my brother, they send screeches into the night. But I realize that the screeches belong to my brother. 

"Ace!” I call, my voice made broken glass. “Ace, Ace!” The silence that follows each word hits like a fist in my heart, ripping the fabric of my soul to pieces. I run towards him, the indecipherable heap on the ground. The police watch me, keeping their guns silent

Falling beside him, I just shatter. My tears are knives, carving gashes into my cheek as they plod down my face. Each staggering breath I take only suffocates me more. I am caving in on the inside, each molecule in my body collapsing, too weak to carry on. 

My hands are coated in his blood, and it is filled with his future, his dreams. Reminding me of all the things that Ace still needed to do.

There are so many people I can think of that failed him. Why didn't his grade school teachers ever see that maybe he needed a little extra help? Why didn't his therapist see that maybe, his problems were different. Why didn't Mr. Mathis watch him more closely?

But look at me. The one who failed at being his sister when I should've been, failed at being his protector when he needed me.

I am the one who truly failed Ace. 

Grade
8

How My Life Changed in One Night

 

Wait for thirty minutes for the hair dye to settle in your hair, then wash the black color dye out thoroughly while being careful not to get it in contact with your eyes.”

Oh, Hello I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Annabelle Alexander but everyone just calls me Ann. I am seventeen years old and going to return to Queen Elizabeth High after summer break ends.

 Just a minute ago, I was trying to read the directions on the hair dye box. Before I began, I straightened out my curly blonde locks and cut my hair so that it resulted in shoulder length hair. Additionally, I cut my bang which was not very hard because I have done it before on my best friend at a slumber party.

This idea of changing my hair has been worming itself in my head until I finally took the plunge. I doubt my mother had this idea in her head, when she told me I could have some fun on my own.

“Ann, Tim, it’s high time you came down! I’ve been calling you down for a long time!”, my mother yelled from the bottom of our curved stairway.

My mom, Mrs. Ellen Watson, works part time as a nurse at Moorfields Hospital in central London.

“OK, coming!” I yelled back as I washed my hair and dried it.

“Yes mum?” Tim asked.

Timothy is my fourteen-year-old brother. Like any teenage boy, he is interested in his computer and comic collections. Me? I prefer to read fiction books and draw anime characters.

“We have to talk about something very important, so listen closely.” My father announced as I entered the sitting room.

My father, on the other hand, works as a professor at the University of London and One of his favorite things is to keep us waiting in suspense until he is satisfied that we are paying close attention.

“Your mother and I are going shopping on West Street for about an hour or so. I need you both to take good care of each other. Ann, you are obviously in charge. We probably…”

“Whatever have you done to your hair, Ann? It looks very different!” asked my mother, astonished at the sight of it.

I did not have to say anything because I knew my father despises being interrupted.

“Never mind that. We will be back around dinner time but if we get delayed, then you both can have dinner together.” My father continued, then waited for my mother to add anything.

“You may always call me, Father, or Aunt Josephine if there is an urgent emergency.”

Aunt Josephine is my mother’s younger sister who works as a marketing and sales director. Her house is a twenty-minute drive from our penthouse.”

 

“Bye then!” Dad said while putting on his coat and wellies. Ugh, rain. Typical London weather.

“Bye!”, Tim and I said together.

“Hope it all goes well! This is the first time you two are home alone. Don’t forget to take care of Tim!”, mother said as she hugged as both, then proceeded to slam the door.

As soon as they left, I felt like an adult, and I wanted everything to go well and fight-free.

“Right, so what do you want to do first?” I asked my brother.

“I want to watch a horror movie.” He replied.

“Sure, I can microwave a package of butter popcorn.”, I said after all I did not want to pick the movie just in case Tim thinks I am too bossy.

Tim then chose a random movie that he said he had heard about.

After watching the jump-scare movie and arguing playfully in the middle who got scared the most, I made frozen cheese pizza in the oven. Then I loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the table and the counters just to make mother and father pleased with me.

“Umm, why aren’t they back yet! It’s almost half past eleven! Tim asked.

He was right. The long hand on the clock was moving closer to six.

“Where could they be?”, I wondered aloud.

“They said they will be back in maximum two hours.”, Tim responded.

“I think we should head up to bed. I am worried to but we probably will see them in the morning.”

“But I really want to stay up until they come back.”, said Tim.

I was about to agree until he yawned very loudly, and so I decided that we should go to sleep, but kept on thinking that something must have happened to them.

“Come on let’s go to sleep.” I said.

“OK”

“Look, I am sure everything will be fine by tomorrow morning.” I said, trying my best to lessen the look of worry on my brother’s face but lying through my teeth at the same time.

We then headed up to our own spacious rooms, and Tim decided to sleep in the same room as me, this time shaking a little bit.

Next morning, we woke up at 8:30am to find the house oddly still and so the first thing we did was that we checked their bedroom. Empty. Loo? Empty. They could not have gone to work because they leave for work at 9:30am and it was a Saturday morning anyway. We phoned mum and all we heard was, “This number is not available now. Please leave your number and your message after the beep.”

Father’s phone was a repeat performance of what happened when phoning mother. Now we were extremely desperate.

Our last hope was Aunt Josephine. I phoned her up on speaker phone so my brother could hear, thankfully she responded.

“Hello, who is this?”, asked Aunt Josephine.

“Ann and Tim.”, I responded.

“What is it you want to talk to me about?”

“We were wondering if you heard anything about mum and dad. They left to go shopping last night and did not come back so do you know…”

Tim’s words were cut off by a loud gasp.

“Aunt Josephine! Aunt Josephine! Are you alright?” Tim asked.

“Oh my goodness!”, exclaimed Aunt Josephine, “There has been a tragic accident! Pack up your bags, you two are moving in with me now.”

What on earth has happened? I wondered, surely they did not die!

By the time my aunt arrived to pick us up, we had collected all our belongings in one suitcase for each one of us.

As we sat down in the car and were belted, my aunt began to explain to us what happened.

“In the newspaper it said that your wonderful parents…”, she stopped to blow her nose, “Your parents have been among the unfortunate five people that were eaten by a rhino who managed to escape London Zoo. Please forgive me for not telling you this earlier, I just found out this morning…”

My aunt’s sentence trailed off. I could not stop the tears from gushing down my face. Tim started crying uncontrollably too. No wonder they had not come. I felt so terrible for them. Their hopes and dreams all perished in one moment. I immediately remembered the last sentence mum said to me. “Hope it all goes well! This is the first time you two are home alone. Don’t forget to take care of Tim!”

Take care of Tim. Take care of Tim. The words echoed in my head for the rest of the ride.

“We’re home!”, Aunt Josephine said with a small smile, trying to lift up our spirits.

Tim, who was speechless during the whole ride, managed to give her a wiry smile through his tears.

The house was so pretty, the bright green trees behind the house, the sun casting shadows on them, birds chirping, and squirrels running. It was the best welcome I had ever had to a new house.

Everything went smoothly as we settled in the new home. We had our own rooms once again and huge libraries and swimming pools.

Then one sudden day, six months after we settled in, my brother and I caught sight of a rhino coming from a random zoo, and hurrying down the block where there was an outdoor festival going on. Tim called the zookeepers and told them about the situation. The zookeepers managed to catch the rhino in time and everything went back to normal in the zoo.

To this day, as I am telling this story for the umpteenth time, I am proud to be a professional zookeeper.

 

 

Grade
10

The darkness that surrounded us was almost suffocating, wrapping around us as a snake would its prey. The headlights cast a light no more than four feet in front of our car. The silence that echoed between us enunciated the alienation. In the distance along the horizon a small light appeared. It grew larger as we sped towards it. Slowly, the blob of light separated into into smaller blobs which became houses, each one an exact replica of the one before. We turned off the dark road and onto a brightly lit residential street, there are no people to be seen. Houses decked with Christmas lights lined the sidewalks, the bushes out front all pruned to perfection, the grass cut to the same length. I wondered, foolishly, if I were to put a ruler next to each blade, would they all measure the same? I felt my mouth drop open in awe as my eyes pass over them, trying in vain to take them all in.“They’re beautiful.” I murmured, glancing over at my mother, as if for approval. The car window filtered the light, casting an eerie glow on her face, deepening the frown that was etched there. “Hardly. They are all the same, each and every one of them, nothing special or extraordinary about them. Nothing worth the enormous amounts of money that must have been forked over to pay for them. They’re just...plain.”

“But they’re still beautiful- I mean look at them all together, uniform and neat.” I responded. “Sure,” my mother said. “ Together they are beautiful, when there is nothing to compare them to. Of course there is something pleasing about the unity of it, but as soon as you add a different house to the bunch, that all goes away. You can have twelve houses with all the same floors, siding, and roofs, but throw in a thirteenth house with a balcony or a wraparound porch and the original twelve fade into the background, going unnoticed in favor of the more interesting house. You wouldn’t want to live in one of those.”

“Maybe I would. The outside might be plain but what about the inside, you could decorate it however you want, with whatever you want.” I said. My mother sighed, her disappointment evident.

“Yes, but who’s going to see the inside? Only those people that are closest to you. The inside can be as personal as you want it but what does that matter. Like it or not, the only thing that really matters is what the world sees, and the inside means very little to those that can’t see it. A plain-looking house will automatically be branded as just that, regardless of if there is a slide inside connecting the third floor to the basement or a lap pool. What can be seen on the outside is what will be judged. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

And at the time I really thought that I did. I thought that my mother’s words went no deeper than comparing a house with a slide to one with a white-picket fence. In time, however, as the words continued to come back to me and I worked to puzzle them out, I would come to understand them as they applied to more than houses, as they applied to people. I would realise that hidden within those words was the essence that a person can be as interesting as possible on the inside, but as long as they look and act like every other incredibly interesting person in this world they will never stand out. And maybe people don’t want to stand out, maybe that’s why styles are so popular. If everyone is waxing their eyebrows and wearing shirts that expose their belly buttons then why shouldn’t I right? God forbid any originality in teens.

And the problem is, that’s how everyone thinks of it. So, rather than being rewarded for their originality and differences, a person that strays outside the norm is considered weird or atypical. They are, in some cases, forced to conform to these standards designed by the unknown, whether they are bullied or simply don’t feel comfortable in situations where they stand out. As if their choices scream please judge me or I am uncomfortable rather than what they should say, I am different and I couldn’t care less what you think about it because I’m happy. Yet still, these things are not conveyed, these meanings lost in translation, and that’s just the way it works.

But what is the point of living if you are going to be exactly like everyone else? What makes you special, what makes it so that you couldn’t be replaced by any other faceless person with perfect eyebrows? What is your wraparound porch, your slide, your lap pool? What are these things that you keep hidden because they single you out as different? Find them and show them to the world. Search deep within yourself for the things that separate you from others. Do not be afraid to show the world that you are different, that you are special, that you have something to offer that help to stop you from being this tiny, insignificant speck in the large scale of time, that you are not just a cookie cutter house.

Of course, there is always the possibility that my mother meant none of these things that night and therefore everything I have just said carries little weight. There is always the possibility that people don’t want to be their own person simply because they like looking like everyone else, they’re comforted by the fact that they can wake up, walk outside and see people that look exactly like them. Maybe the reason all the houses looked the same was because the ones that were different didn’t sell very well because no one likes wraparound porches or indoor slides, all people want are the perfectly pruned bushes and neatly mowed lawns. I mean who am I to say. I’m just a tiny speck after all.  

Grade
7

I hear bells ring decisively, but then the ring fades out to sea where the waves soar as high as seagulls that come down from the sky every once and awhile to pick around at the hot sand that blazes through my skin right down to my soul.  I feel my heart burn with a fiery passion for the blazing sun, the swoosh of the waves that has the freshest of breezes that I have ever known, a breeze that flows through my hair in a perfect pattern, a breeze that covers the land. I see the clouds start to gray, and the breeze turns into wind putting the world into a buzz of flying sand that fill my ears reducing the sound of crashing waves. I can taste the salt coming off the sea. Now it's all coming so fast that the world starts to tilt as I get dizzier and dizzier. The wind rushes through me and I fall to the ground down to the now wet sand that pulls shivers through my spine. I can’t see a thing as the sand mixes with salt. The sand is flying everywhere, it gets in my mouth it feels like gravel and tastes like dirt. I can no longer do anything but wonder and think about what if this and what if that had happened, maybe then I would be safe. But none of that matters now for it’s what I deserve for doing this horrible thing, I deserve to drift out to sea and feel all the air leave me as I drown in my guilt.

 

One Week Earlier

People keep wishing me a happy birthday which I guess is a nice gesture but it was not going to be a good birthday. All I can think about is the pounding in my head, the soreness of my throat, and how congested my nose is. I just want to go home and go to bed and maybe watch a movie with my boyfriend Jake. But I can’t cut classes because well I’m a nerd and I love college so I wouldn't dream of skipping classes. The weird thing is, I haven’t seen Jake or a lot of my close friends at all today. I should be paying attention but my history teacher has a voice that just makes you fall asleep. I was so close to sleep when a loud high pitched noise stopped me it took me a couple of seconds to realize that it was the bell. I moved across the classroom but my feet felt like big hunks of metal that made it very hard to walk. I have to concentrate very hard on getting my feet to move up and down as I move across the parking lot. When I reach my car I slam down into the driver’s seat and start driving. The trip feels so much longer than usual so by the time I got to the house that I share with three other girls, I was exhausted. The door creaked when I opened it. I went straight up to my room, dropped all my stuff on the ground, set an alarm for 5:00, flopped down on my bed and closed my eyes. Ding dong “Kimberly are you home,” someone yelled.  ding dong  “KIMBERLY OPEN THE DOOR!” they yelled again I heard the door creak open

“Hello um who are you?” said my roommate Lexi.

   “Um I’m Natasha, Kimberly's sister,” my sister replied. I heard some more muffled talking but I was so excited I ran down the stairs.

“NATASHA!” I yelled as I flung my arms around my sister “you didn’t tell me you were coming to visit,” I said when I had calmed down.

“Well it’s your birthday so I thought I would surprise you with a visit,” she said with a tone that said she was sorry that she didn’t tell me she was coming.

“You know someday you may just give me a heart attack,” I said in a joking tone.

“Sorry,” Natasha said in a sarcastic sad voice.

“You want to come up to my room?” I asked

“Oh yeah, sure, sounds good,” she said as she got up from the couch. “Um, I hope I didn’t startle your roommate” Natasha whispered.

“Well, you’re lucky it was Lexi that was home and not Maddy. Maddy can seem a bit harsh if you don’t know her,” I replied.

“Do you want to go to a bar this evening to get the full experience of turning 21, I mean come on there's no school tomorrow so I can persuade you to try something new, plus you’ll have time for homework over the weekend,” said Natasha. “Please” she added.

“Well okay, but don’t get any ideas because I’m not going to drink anything,” I replied.

At 9:00 we left the house and Natasha drove towards the bar. We got out of the car and walked to the door. When we got to the door there was a man that asked for our ID’s. He reminded me that I couldn’t drink until midnight. We opened the door and walked in and all of my friends popped out at me and blew on those stupid kazoo-like things that unroll when you blow in it. Natasha turned to me and said, “Look, so I know that you don’t like surprises but your boyfriend Jake reached out to me and he wanted to do something special for you… just please don’t be mad and try to have a good time”.

“I’m not mad, I actually think it’s kind of sweet, speaking of which I would like to talk to Jake. Do you know where he is?” I said.

“Yeah, he’s right over there,” Natasha replied.

“Okay, I’ll be right back!” I yelled as I made my way through the crowd. When I finally spotted Jake I yelled to him “Oh JAKE, JAKE, OVER HERE”

“Hey, how do you like the party,” he said

“It’s nice but I was wondering if you would like to maybe go on a boat ride with me?” I asked.

“I’d love to, as long as I’m with you,” he whispered in my ear. We tip-toed to the back door and snuck out. We got into Jake’s car and drove off to the place where you can rent a boat and we went out on the lake. The boat drifted on the lake and we just stayed there in that perfect moment for an amazing half hour but then it all started to turn, the boat started to rock and move, the boat was tipping and Jake couldn’t swim. “JAKE” I yelled

 

   “I’m here,” he said. I gripped his hand but he was already slipping, falling away from me, and I couldn’t get him back.