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Grade
8

There once was a small cottage. In it lived two men, a father and a son. This was a normal household in most aspects, except for one thing. The son was cursed with a death sentence. When he reached the ripe old age of thirty, he would perish immediately. Knowing this, the father was very bitter and complained all day and night, cursing the fates that had brought this upon his son. Despite this curse, the son was very bright and cheery, not for once letting his fate stop him. The father and his son had a slightly strained relationship, the curse always the elephant in the room. They lived like this for many years, until eventually, the son reached twenty-nine. Knowing that he did not have much time left, he decided to try something new. “Father,” he said one day, “do you ever want to leave home and try something new?” The father looked at his son, surprised.“Why would you do that? Life here is fine as it is. No use in changing. What if something goes wrong?” The son shrugged, but he didn’t say anything.
Whenever the son brought the topic up again, the father would reply with more or less the same. The son would shrug again, and the cycle would start again. This continued for some time until finally, the son made up his mind.
“That’s it, Dad! I cannot take any more of this. While we have contentment, I want to search for euphoria. I shall leave and return.” His father looked at him. “You only have months before you die. Would you really want to spend them in a dangerous and reckless pursuit of stupidity?” The son mulled over that for some time, then said quietly, “Yes, I think I would.”
He packed up his bags and left.
At home, with the absence of his son, the father began to grow more and more lonely. Still, he was stubborn. “I refuse to go find after him! Why would you go search for bliss, when we had a perfectly content life here?” He insisted on staying home. “Surely he will come home soon, and it will all be okay. He repeated these words over and over in his head, like a mantra. However, no matter how many times he repeated it, how badly he wanted it to be true, he still felt a slight sense of discontentment if he thought hard enough.
This went on for many months, until one day, a message arrived from his son. Father, he wrote, I do not have much time left, and I beg you to come visit me once. Seeing this note, the father’s eyes teared up not wanting to imagine his death. Then, he made the first impulsive decision of his life. He decided to go find his son.
He spent three days traveling, grumbling the whole time. Twice, he almost turned back. However, each time the doubts crept into his head, he reminded himself that this was for his son. He persisted and finally reached the location that his son had sent him. It was a nondescript house, similar to their own house. He knocked on the door, suddenly feeling a little uncertain. Would he still recognize his son? A stronger doubt slithered its way into his head. Would his son still recognize him? Still, he stood in front of the door, preparing himself for whatever happened.
All this was forgotten as his son opened the door, his face happier than it had ever been. “Father, I am so glad you came! You do not know how much you missed out.” He began to speak excitedly, spouting tale after tale of his adventures. Meanwhile, the father stared at his son in shock. When had he ever seen his son so happy? He thought back to their time together, trying to remember, but came up empty-handed. Sure, his son had been content, but never happy. Finally, the son stopped, his face still red with excitement. “Well,” he asked, “what did you do while I was gone?”
He tried to think of something to say but could think of nothing. Suddenly, the father felt an unexplainable rush of jealousy. Listening to his son’s adventures, his life at the cottage had paled in comparison. Hearing his son beginning to pursue his dreams, he began to unlock a box of his own. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. “Son, will you take me along on one of your adventures?”
As the pair left, the father felt a rush of excitement he had never felt before. He told himself it was childish, but he began to imagine what life would be like if he were to just let himself go. For the first time in a while, he smiled. His son smiled back. They walked like this in companionable silence for a while. Then the son turned to his father. “I know I do not have much time left. No matter what happens in the future, I just want you to know. These past months were the best of my life. I would not have spent them any other way. However, I have one last wish before I face death. I just wished that you could find this type of happiness too.”
A week later, he died. The father sat by him as he breathed his last breath, tears in his eyes. Despite their many differences, he had never doubted the love they shared. Now, staring at his son’s limp body, he realized that in his many years of life, he had never done anything of worth. He had always tried to take the easier path, never taking risks. His son had managed to find more happiness in his thirty years then he had in his entire life. He contemplated this, and then came to a deeper truth.
It had never been about much time a person had. It had always been about how you took it, and how you spent it. Thinking about this, the father made a silent vow to himself. That no matter how he spent his years, he would live his life to his fullest.

Grade
7

Element
In medieval times, there were elemental powers scattered throughout the kingdom. There were lot of elements, but the main 4 emperor elements were fire,earth,water,and air. For several decades the four elements kept peace. Then, one day, a lesser element, chaos, challenged water to a duel. Water loss, and chaos was labeled one of the emperor elements. This angered water’s friend, ice, to stepping up to chaos and challenging him to a duel like chaos had did to air. But fire, being the main enemy of water, stepped in, and challenged ice to duel on the uninhabited island of aether. Air warned ice not to accept fire’s challenge, but ice was so full of hatred that he accepted fire’s challenge. Both of the elements sailed to aether, and began to fight as soon as they saw each other. Fire was strong, but ice overthrew him. Their battle changed the climate of the island, causing one side to be ice, and the other to be fire. Chaos sailed to aether, and found fire frozen in a ice block. Chaos unfroze fire and the two swore to kill ice, whatever it took. Meanwhile, Ice, Water, and Air found a town far from chaos and fire territory, found a home, and found a job in earth territory.

20 years later

Fire woke with a start. What a horrible dream! Being frozen by Ice again. No, that would never happen, he thought to himself. Fire looked around and noticed that his room was covered in what appeared to be red sand. He leaned in for a closer look, and shot back as a huge,red spike nearly clove him in two! The door to his room burst open. “ look who’s up.” Chaos strode into the room, or rather floated. He floated on sheets of pure chaos. Even though he resembled a human, a red and black smoky substance poured off him in storms, covering his face, except his eyes, which glowed with the color of vein blood. His voice was metallic. His hands were covering something that looked like a doll. “ what do you make of this?” Chaos said. He tossed the doll like object to fire. It landed in his lap. Fire looked at it closely. It was a doll, one he recognized. “ String from moss side village. Black pine from the mountains. Stained with water from..” Fire paused “ Kyros.” He threw the doll back to Chaos. He sat down. “ you understand what I’m getting at, right? This is the village that Ice, Water, and Air are hiding in.”
Fire smiled wickedly, “ I see. We gather our troops and go through the portal strait to kyros. It’s the fastest-” “No” Chaos interrupted, “ if we take that path, it’s certain that earth himself will ambush us, and I don’t want to draw the attention of everybody. I have a path way better than yours. And I assure you, they won’t see it coming.” Chaos’s laughter sounded like a saw on rocks, echoing throughout the entire kingdom.

Water summoned water into the big iron pot, and set it on the burning hot stove. He she insisted on doing the cooking by herself, even with the town treating the three of them like kings. The day they arrived, they were given a mansion and a job protecting the town from enemies and natural disasters, like droughts (she is the best at dealing with those). With herself and air being emperors, she was used to it. Water poured some rice in the pot. As she stirred, she couldn’t help but notice the movement in the corner of her eye. “Come sit at the table,guys. Dinner is ready.” Ice and Air sat down at the table. They both had there elemental powers pouring out of them. Ice’s body kept crumbling and reforming like an iceberg. Air kept blowing the silverware off the table. Every time he picked it up, the air would pick up again and blow them off. Air sighed. He formed a mini dust devil, and played with it, spinning it on his finger. “I’m bored.” he said, “someone hasn’t attacked in weeks!” Ice let off a blast of cold air, “ I know, but it’s just the way life is.” They all sat down and ate. Water turned to air, “ Did you see the strange lights last night?” “ Yeah, happened just outside the village. I feel like I have seen someone who has a power to create a glow as red as that, but I don’t know who.” Ice shifted uncomfortably, “ I don’t want to spook anyone, but I feel like we’re going to be attack by someone soon.” As if on cue, the house exploded.

Ice woke to a horrid laugh. He felt a huge amount of heat radiating around him. His eyes stung from smoke. He looked up and saw 2 people that brought a shiver to his body. Standing in front of him was Chaos and Fire, both looking down on him. Fire looked just as ice had remembered. A captain's cloak made of fire. A body made of smoke, and a face with a twisted sneer. His voice was dark and smokey. “ hello, ice. What happened to the person that froze me on aether 20 years ago?!” he kicked Ice into a wall. His head swam with pain as fire let loose volley after volley of punches. Ice dropped to the floor. He could see nothing but red. He coughed violently, and realized that he was coughing up blood. Fire loomed over him with a sword made of solid flames, ready to chop Ice’s head off. But before he could, a new voice said, “ stop.” Chaos put his hand on Fire’s shoulder, “ let me take him on. He did challenged me 20 years ago, after all.” “And you can fight us, instead!” said water and air. They charged at fire with the most mean look on their faces, and engaged fire in a fight. Chaos looked at them as they fought, “ aww, I wanted know one to interfere, but no matter.” He turned back toward Ice, “ I will enjoy killing you, Ice.”

Ice saw to options, run or fight. 20 years ago, he would have run like the wind, but he was stronger thanks to the strong raiders that invaded the town from time to time. He yelled and charged at chaos. Chaos chuckled, and sent a volley of blood red chaos sand spikes at Ice. The spikes sliced through Ice like a cheese grater. Chaos laughed, but it died in his throat as Ice reformed from the ice pieces that he had cut up. Chaos growled in anger and charged him, causing the ground to blister and boil. Ice knew what was going to happen next. He shouted “ duck and cover!”, hoping his friends got the message, and dove behind a building just as the ground blisters exploded, causing a shock wave that leveled the entire village. Ice stood up, and was kick into the air. Chaos laughed, “ I wanted to do this ever since you froze fire! Good bye, ice!!” Then a huge spike shout out of the ground and skewered Ice in mid air.

Ice found the elements confusing. From the day he was born, he sparred with his friend,Air, and every time he lost. “ things that aren’t solid in real life,” explained air, “ like air, water and fire, can’t be hit. We can’t because our bodies are made of those elements. But things like rubber, metal, and chaos need a source of power. For example, the reason chaos can’t be beat is that his source of power is the world. So if there comes a day you fight him, keep that in mind.”

As Ice sat there listening to the maniacal laughter of chaos echo in his brain, he thought about what air had said. “He was right.” Ice thought, “Chaos can’t be beat. But maybe-” He looked up at the sky. The moon shone bright in the star lit sky. “ I have to take this somewhere else. A new battlefield.” ice thought. He looked at the spike. The spike was red with blood. Ice looked at chaos. The spike seemed to be coming out of him, like it was a part of his body. “ THAT’S IT!” ice thought, “ all of chaos’s attacks are a part of him, so if I freeze the spike, I freeze chaos.
Ice grabbed the spike and willed it to freeze. In less than a second, the spike was shattered, and chaos was frozen in a ice block with the most surprised look on his face. Ice looked over at the other battle. Air was bleeding all over. He sat in a corner of a toppled building. Water fought fire all by herself. Fire tried to attack, but kept getting doused by water every time. Ice ran over to air. “ Hey, can you do something for me?” Ice explained his plan. Air breathed in shakely, “ I can try.” Suddenly,from the ice block, there came a explosion that rocked the world. When the smoke cleared, chaos faced ice and air, and roared with anger. Air looked at ice, “ Are you ready?” “yes.” answered ice. Air made a air bubble around ice. Ice looked at chaos, “Air, go help air fight fire.” “okay!” said air. Chaos ran at ice with terrifying speed. When he got close enough to strike, Ice grabbed him and threw him in the sky, aiming for the stars. Ice built a tower out of ice, and followed chaos into the sky.

Ice looked around. The stars were brighter now, and the earth was a huge ball of yarn. Chaos had a nervous look on his face. His eyes shifted around, taking in the new area, “ Where am I? What did you do? How are you flying?!” Ice sighed, “ I can ‘walk’ on the air by freezing it, and in the area on the boundary of earth and space, it’s very cold, but there is still a little amount of air.”
Chaos laughed, “ You can’t beat me, I-” he would have said more, but ice froze his mouth shut. He punched and kicked at chaos. Chaos fought back, but his attacks were getting weaker. Ice’s plan was working. Ice summoned a sword made of ice, and stabbed, cut, and thrust at Chaos. Chaos shot back as a huge wave of energy sliced through the air, making the air steam. “ How can you project your cuts and stabs?! No element can do that!!” Chaos yelled. Ice smiled,” how can nobody do it if I just did?” chaos screamed and floated away on sheats of chaos. He didn’t even have time to look back, Ice’s cut caught him in the head, propelling him toward the moon.
Chaos hit the moon, and the moon exploded in a shower of sparks, shooting ice back to earth, and making him blackout.

Ice woke up to a tearful water dabbing his head with a wet cloth. When water saw that ice was awake, she hugged ice, almost crushing him to death. Air was beside her, beaming like the sun on a summer day. A crowd of villagers cheered, “ All hail Ice, the new emperor!!” Ice was shocked. “ why-” “ we beat up fire real good.” said air, “ then, while we were helping the villagers, we saw chaos fight you in the sky. Everyone saw you throw him into the moon and destroy him. Your a hero!” Ice looked all around. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

On top of the mountain, a figure surveyed the village. “ yes, your a hero. You beat chaos!” it said to itself, “ I look forward to fighting you, ice. And this time, your the one who will lose!!” the figure laughed, and vanish into the shadows.

The end

Grade
7

A Dancing Bug

“Who are you?” they say.

“Bee.” I reply.

“Like the bug?” they ask.

“Well, yes. The insect.” I correct.

“What do you like to do?” they pry.

“I like to dance.” I say.

“A dancing bug!” they laugh.

They walk away, swinging their hair behind them, never understanding the hurt of their words.

Fake. All fake. All these words. All these phrases, coated in sugar, but filled with salt. They are just words, but they cut deep into my skin, scaring the weak cells, building up over time, to create this barrier, this wall of hurt and pain. A glaze of saltiness covers the dark pupils of my eyes, dripping down the inward curve of my nose, stinging the edge of my cracked lips. I fight it. I fight the tears, just like I fight the words. I try and push them away, to forget that anyone ever said them. But no. My scars stay. I see them cover me, and I can’t forget. I only remember their words ringing in my head: Not good enough. Not smart enough. A dancing bug!

Every day, I step into this lonely world, wondering what I am meant to do, who I am meant to be. I try to find the girl I want to be, but every time I try, the wall of hurt blocks me from passing. How can I be who I was made to be when others don’t accept me for it? How can I live freely when every corner is a trap? A twister of taunts, whisking around me, daring me to fall down. How can I find this girl when am I so familiar with the last stall in the girl’s bathroom, scrawled with graffiti, and filled with the drip drip drip of my tears, hiding from the world before me. Ashamed of who they say I am, who I am supposed to be.

I sit in a plump seat, the steady bump of the road beneath me pounding like a heartbeat. I look out the window, covered in the grime of sticky fingers and sugary breath, past memories of students waiting eagerly to get home. I see the world outside, passing fast, forgotten in a mere second. The scenery, the passersbys, all gone in the blink of an eye, like none of it matters. I realize how small I seem, compared to this giant world around me. I, a mere speck in a room full of dust. A simple star in the vast galaxy, teeming with burning planets and web-like constellations, all more interesting than me:  just a simple star.

The radio blasts, full of cursing and profanity. I would never dream of ever dancing to music like this. Even if I could. The adrenaline of children rushes around me like a dammed river, spewing everywhere, over everything: my ears, my nose, my head. I close my eyes and try to slow the pounding of my brain. So many people, so many words. So many scars.

Bug girl. Boogie bug! Booger bug!

I see their taunting faces, their laughing cheeks. I fight it. I fight the words, the scars. I fight it all.

They’re just words. Words can’t hurt.

But they do.

Finally, finally, the rubber burn against the gravel road signals my heavenly stop. I practically leap off the steps, with calls of “booger bug” swirling behind me.

I watch my feet take step after step up the stony walk, each stride a reassuring sign I have made it through another day. The crackle of the the pebbles send pinches up into my soles. I see the familiar chipped paint of the old wooden door, the hand painted birdhouse, speckled with tiny fingerprints from long ago, when the tips of my young, petite hands were nearly as small as the birdseed itself.

I remember the past with a melancholy smile. How could life have been so simple? So uncomplicated? So nice and inviting? It now seems nearly impossible that once, my naive six-year-old mind didn’t understand that there was meanness out in the world, and that I was right in the middle of it all. Oblivious, but happy.

But happy.

I creek open the rusted hinges of the door, slowly creating an opening of sunlight onto the hardwood floor.

Music fills my ears as I enter my house, the calming sound easing my scarred soul.

“Staring at a stop sign, watching people drive by, T mac on the radio, got so much on your mind, nothing's really going right, looking for a ray of hope.”

I follow the beat of the song, down the narrow hallway, up the winding stairs.

And there I see her.

Long hair flowing, smile wide, shoulders tall and proud.

Her graceful arms waving through the air fluently, but with emotion. Strong legs twist and turn, jete to a pirouette. She dances without a care in the world, without scars breaking her step. The music breaks into a humming refrain, and her eyes flutter open peacefully to notice me standing in the door.

“Bee!” she calls. “How is my favorite little sister today?” The way she wraps her arm around me, calls me by my name, and cares for my answer. I look up into her passionate eyes and the dazzling smile across her face. Flashes of phrases run through my head, swirling and whirling in and out, through my ears. I see their smirking faces and their narrow gaze. But then I see the pearly gleam of my sister’s grin, and the kindness in her eyes.

“You're an overcomer, stay in the fight 'til the final round, you're not going under.”

I make my decision.

“Now that you’re here, everything's okay.” I reply, and I return her grin with one of my own, unable to fight off my sister’s positive vibe. The song begins to play again, and my sister grabs my hand.

“C’mon!” she calls, and she swings our hands over our heads and we turn around back to back. Our eyes sparkle and dance across from each other. For the first time today, I feel my scars begin to heal. I feel them stitch back together, and my mind calm like an ocean after a storm. I hear the words of the song radiate in my head. They push me forward, to twirl my legs and spin my arms. They spiral and circle, and I leap and flip.

“You're an overcomer, you're an overcomer.”

* * * * *

“Who are you?” they say.

I can feel scars forming, already anticipating the hurtful sting. I open my mouth to answer, ready to give in to their icy words.

But I stop. I close my lips and blink my eyes.

Who am I? I ask myself. Who am I really? I am not bug girl, or booger bug, or a boogie bugger. I am not a turtle, afraid of the world, curled up in my shell. I think of my sister, joyful and free, oblivious to the world, not caring about what other people think. “You're an overcomer, stay in the fight 'til the final round, you're not going under.” It’s my decision. I can choose to stay trapped in this scarred cage, or learn to spread my wings and fly. I am bigger than my scars, bigger than these words that once took me over. Scars may leave a mark, but the pain won’t last. It will only last if I make it. If I let it take control. I can overcome all of these bullies and words. I can take my stand. I can say who I am, and be proud of it.

“My name is Bee.” I say. “I really like to dance.”

“Really?” they ask.

“Yes, I guess you could say I’m a dancing bug.”

 

Grade
7

Over the Rainbow

My dog died one day in November. Ever since everything felt numb and unfeeling. The world turned gray and cold. Maybe my reaction was a little overboard to some people- but to me? To me it was normal. My dog- Lucy- had been my best friend. Simple things reminded me of her… The ducks in the park that she would bark and chase after, the feeling of excitement that she would get whenever I came home from school, and even parks where we would run and roll in the grass. The thing was that she was all around me, and I could not get rid of her memory, but maybe I didn’t want to. I just needed to accept her death and become my old self.

The day I finally accepted her death was a day in the park. We had gone here all the time with her and I could almost make out the ghosts of my laughs I had shared with my best friend. Another fit of crying came. By now I was used to them. I usually tried to hide them but today I just didn’t care. The tears streamed down my face. Each one representing a memory I had but could never make again. I lay there for a long time trying to stop but not being able to. A light drizzle started as I was in the grass. All my tears that had fallen into the ground were now coming from the sky. Soon after, it stopped, displaying a beautiful rainbow. I then realized that this is what I had been missing. The light after darkness, or the rainbow after the storm. Staring at the rainbow I saw the colors that jumped out at me.

The first one was red. Red like the color of Lucy’s tongue when she was licking my face. Or the feeling red represents- love. I loved Lucy more than I can express.  But it was also the color of the spots of anger that appeared in my mind when I heard she had cancer. That nothing could be done. That we had to put her down or let her suffer. I must accept that now. She died peacefully. One color down and one acceptance towards Lucy’s death.

Next, I saw bright orange. Orange meaning playfulness. I can just remember her romping along in the backyard, a rope in her mouth and fierce pleasure and determination in her eyes. The color of joy which she gave me every day with the simplest of actions. Joy is what I saw in her eyes every day. But it can be pessimistic, a habit I have started to take over since her death. Trying not to be happy because she can’t anymore. With that color of the rainbow, I gave away the pessimistic actions that have been plaguing me ready to be the happy optimist that everybody knew and loved. Accepting the good and getting rid of the bad.

I moved on to the next color-Yellow.  Yellow is an easy one. Yellow meaning warmth and happiness. Whenever I was in a bad mood or sad about a certain something Lucy would come and nudge me. Then she would come and lay her head in my lap and lick my hand for comfort. Happiness is the memories where we ran like the wind and ate pieces of fruit by the lake. Hope- representing yellow- is the one thing I tried to cling on to when I heard the news. I tried with all my might and all the hope I had it ended up fading in the end. That led to my next feeling I associate with yellow. Cowardice. I was a coward when I locked myself in my room unable to face anyone, even my dad who was experiencing the same things as me. A coward when I was unable to admit my problems with my friends when they asked me why I was acting so different. Like the wind blowing my hair and rustling the grass in the park, I let my cowardice breeze past me, a picture of the past. I will confront my friends, tell them what’s been going on, and I know they will be there for me.

Next, I come to green.  Harmony, growth, and fertility. Growth representing the years I grew with Lucy both of us learning new things and sharing the same experiences. Then, safety. Safety representing my comfortable feeling when it was a stormy night and I was curled underneath the blanket with her, knowing she would protect me. Or when I was home alone late hours into the night, the softest of noises making me jump, I would look to the side and I would see my best friend -my loving dog- and know that she was guarding me and that nothing could get past her. I slept soundly those nights. But with green also came greed and jealousy. The greed of wanting to always keep her by my side because she always made me feel at my best. And now jealousy. When I see other people with their dogs laughing and smiling, the only thing I can think of now is that I wish I had that. I wish that my dog's life could be traded for theirs. Now I realize they would be feeling the same way if our situations were switched.  I let these feelings go to the air, letting them be swept up and taken.

Moving on. Blue. It had always been my favorite color. Laying down with Lucy, it was the color we saw when we looked up at the sky. Blue has also been associated with calm. When it was just me and my dog against the world I was kept calm, refreshed and happy by her crazy antics. Blue has also been known to go with the term aloof. I learned this last year and never understood. Now I do. Cold and distant- this is exactly what I have been. Not letting anyone get to close to me. Even the people that mean the most to me. I let this aloofness go, tonight transforming back into my open and expressive self.

Indigo was up. Indigo meaning sincerity. Lucy always was sincere. I believe all dogs are. She would always try to be there for you no matter what, always by your side. Faith- another symbol of indigo- something I could always keep up when I had Lucy. No matter how bad things were I tried to keep faith always and forever. I only lost it once and that was when she was no longer there to help me keep it. I would pick my faith back up. I can have it again, for other people and for myself. I had restored my faith and again it was all thanks to my dog. I realized another meaning of indigo. Not being able to work without organization. As the other colors made me realize Lucy was my organization and calm. That’s why I couldn’t work when she was gone. Breathing a calming breath, I vowed to take back my own functions and be able to work again. Even if my organization had left. I could do it again.

The final color, as always in a rainbow, is violet. Violet, as in imagination and creativity. All the different adventures I went on with Lucy and all the different places we visited. Granted most were in our heads but it still counted. She was the best inspiration, always listening when I got older and wrote my fantasies down. Infinite energy has also been linked with violet. Now if one thing described Lucy, it was infinite energy. Her rambunctious personality is what drew people towards her, including me. After tons of playing she still couldn’t sit still always wandering and following me around the house. Even if she got in my way I loved every second of it. Like any other color, violet represents something bad since Lucy’s death. For this color, its attitude, which I have been tending to get more often. I feel a fierce desire to talk back so I can show I am handling myself and I’m fine when really, I was breaking apart. All the snarky comebacks and words snapped at people are all my emotions just boiling over. Letting my attitude go into the soil and earth I’m lying on, I change. Now I’m the happy- go- lucky person, everyone wanted to be friends with. This is who I really am.

Letting all these feelings go with the fading daylight I felt lighter than I have in years. The world was once again colorful to me.  My feelings – negative and positive- were now with Lucy. I had let them go this day and now her and all our memories were safe and peaceful. Maybe someday I would join her, but that day was far away. I was happy once again and I knew she was watching over me, in her own place, somewhere over the rainbow.

 

 

 

Grade
10

We sat like eskimos, huddled together, our eyes wide. The door kept banging, and the voice continued. 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 weep while a man bangs on your door.

“Come on, come on!” she’d scream, sliding her finger back and forth along the big crack in the phone screen.

“You kno’wut? I’ll beeback!” He screamed, and he always told the truth when he said that. The cold, harsh truth.

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 one-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, blank. 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 to me. 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 so movie-like about all of it. It had become like a charade; a well-timed act of screaming and crying, screaming and crying. Like a scene from Woody Allen with some jazz in the back. 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. 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 came 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. Show it to the cops; what an outrageous man! But no one gave a shit. And one time, in the midst of the 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 we opened the door he was gone. And so was our blue doormat.

That was when my mom became someone else, and the cold-tap and the small rooms and stupid things like dog crap 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.

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 at 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 jumble ‘em up, just so he could toy with her the next day.

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, 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… boy did that blue doormat look familiar.

Grade
8

The two rushed forward at each other, swords drawn. Clang! The swords clashed, but at the same time, while Shadow had his eyes on Paul’s sword, Paul had drawn a knife from his belt and propelled it towards Shadow’s chest. His aim was true, because while Shadow withdrew his sword to come in for another strike, he collapsed, blood seeping through the wound at his heart.

 

“Paaaul,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. “Sensei, he…,” his voice trailed off as his eyelids slowly closed.

 

“What were you saying?!” shouted Paul. “What did Sensei do!?”

 

“Sensei…” Shadow had spoken his last words, and breathed his last breath. He lay his head on the soil as the eternal sleep took him over. Suddenly, a wave of black rings spread out from Shadow’s body, moving nothing, but carrying power. The wave was directed towards Paul. As soon as it touched him, it dissipated into a black, smoky substance, floating towards the rising sun. But that wasn’t all. Power, fresh but old, coursed through Paul’s veins. He finally had his powers back. As he rose into the air, preparing for his flight back to the dojo, his hands caught fire, likewise with his feet.

 

“MY POWERS ARE BACK!!” he shouted out to the world, full of energy. He looked down at Shadow’s dead body, the knife in its chest, and shook his head. Don’t let this distract you, he told himself, It was a rightful kill. He’s already done too much damage to this place, and you just fixed it.

 

. . .

 

2 years ago…

 

Shadow smiled to himself. He knew his plan was going to work. He slung the bag of ‘money’ over his shoulder and kept his pistol low. He turned around and gazed in the distance, trying to see how much chaos he had created with the fire at the Bank of America. Police were sprawled over the city looking for him, but one specific policeman who lived in the very neighborhood Shadow was walking in was the policeman he wanted to be discovered by.

 

“Throw the gun and the money down and put your hands where I can see them!” a voice called out behind Shadow. Shadow smiled. Luck was on his side today. He turned around and threw the bag and the gun towards the cop, which actually contained 5 pounds of plastic explosive, more than enough to put a little hole in the street. The cop, Matthew, had a surprised look on his face, but he barely had time to move his lips before more than half of his body disintegrated into ashes.

 

    Another boy came running down the street to look at the commotion, looked down in the crater and immediately realized what had happened. He knew enough about bombs even without his brother being a cop, and he knew that this much damage needed a big amount. He sank to his knees at the bottom of the crater, clutching the fabric and the badge of his brother’s uniform as tears rolled freely down his cheek. He looked at what remained of his brother’s body, then looked up and screamed, “WHY?” It was only then when he noticed a dark man, as dark as the moonless sky above, standing at the edge of the crater, smiling.

   

    “You can call me Shadow, and by the way, Paul, I know who you are and I’m sorry, but these were my orders,” he said.

 

    “I will kill you one day, you-” Paul uttered a single foul word.

 

    “Watch your mouth, kid. You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” said Shadow, with hint of humor in his voice. Paul screamed and charged at Shadow. He tired kicking Shadow, but Shadow just grabbed his foot in mid-kick and flipped him over. In a flash, Paul was back up on his feet, ready to lash out again, but all that was left in front of him was a small, black wisp of smoke and the fading shadow of a man.

 

. . .

 

    Three weeks later, Paul arrived at the foot of the mountain. After all his research, this had seemed to be the most sensible place if he wanted to train to become a ninja. He had laughed about to himself when he thought of the concept, but he still decided to give it a shot. Now he couldn’t turn back, and even if he wanted to, it’d be impossible, because he parachuted on to this island off a plane somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic. He looked up as far as he could into the fog, which was about a few meters ahead of him. He sighed and started his climb.

 

   

    . . .

 

    Sensei stared down the mountain, wondering how long his newest pupil would take to get to the top of the mountain, but at the same time, he was conflicted about what had happened. The death he had wanted had not happened, but still, the target had been weakened. He summoned an orb of light using the magic that he mastered about a year after his mother’s death.  He shook his head. That was why most of his pupils failed. They got stuck in the past, and couldn’t move ahead. Their sorrows drowned them.

 

From the corner of his eye, he saw movement, breaking his train of thought. Moments later, a boy stumbled out of the fog to where Sensei was standing, panting like a dog on his knees. He looked up and said, “Sensei! Please can you help me- huuuuh! - train- huuh... someone killed my brother- I want to learn how to fight back! Please!” His breaths were becoming more steady.

 

    “Very well. But right now, I sense anger and hatred boiling in you, and you are only bent on revenge. Only, and only if you can change your intentions, and control your emotions, then I will train you,” said Sensei said, surprising on how much thrill the child had to train.

 

    “YES! Thank you, Sensei, thank you! Yes, yes, yes, yes!” shouted Paul, filled with enthusiasm.

 

   

    Enthusiasm he had. Over the span of only one year, better than any other student Sensei had ever taught, Paul had a black belt and a medal, but he had no chi to bring magic from within him, but he could take someone else's. Paul had also grown quite affectionate for Sensei and likewise with Sensei. Tears rolled down Paul’s face as he turned around to leave the mountain. Sensei teleported Paul back home with his magic to start his search for Shadow.

 

    That very night, Sensei sat in his cabin, staring at the tiny hologram projector on his desk. Suddenly, it lit up blue and projected a small form of Shadow. “Do you have any progress with the target?” demanded Sensei, his voice cold enough to freeze lava.

 

    “I’ve set up a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow, starting from his dead brother,” smiled Shadow.

 

    “Breadcrumbs?” Sensei asked, confused.

 

    “Never mind,” said Shadow. “I basically set up a trail of clues, starting at his brother’s grave stone, which I know he’ll visit right away. Then he’ll come straight to me.”

 

    “Good,” said Sensei, reaching for something in the depths of his desk. “Don’t be too overconfident, and this is just to make sure you won’t end up like the others.”

 

    “Wha-” asked Shadow as Sensei hit the button he was looking for, and he held it as Shadow’s screams rang out into the night.

 

. . .

 

    Paul first stop, even before entering his home, was the graveyard. He spotted his brother’s grave stone almost immediately, but there was something strange about it. On the grave lay a shadow of a man, and the inscription wrote: Find me in the Amazon. Rage poured into Paul like a waterfall. He stared at the shadow, stared at the inscription, and then remembered Sensei’s first lesson: Control your emotions. He slowly calmed down, taking deep breaths. He knew where he had to go. The Amazon Rainforest. He knew his journey wouldn’t be an easy one, but he had to right Shadow’s wrongs by ending him. He turned around and touched the medal Sensei had given him. He pressed the center, with an image of the Amazon in mind, and disappeared, leaving the graveyard empty once more.

 

 

    It took Paul almost a year to find Shadow’s hideout. The teleportation magic Sensei gave him had brought him as far as the Amazon, but the search was for Paul. Shadow obviously had to have set up traps for Paul. On his second day, he was on top of a tree, scouting, when a ball of fire materialized a few yards from him and flew at the tree. He jumped off towards another tree, which almost immediately burst into flames. Thankfully, he had miscalculated the jump, but he still landed hard on the rough, rugged ground. Paul got on his knees and examined his hands. They were bleeding badly, but that wasn’t the current problem.

 

    In front of Paul, leaves and twigs steamed and disintegrated by the heat, and the source of it was either getting stronger, or coming closer. Paul stood up while twirling around and delivering a killing punch in one motion, but his opponent was fast, and hot. He knew something had pushed his hand aside, leaving him with blisters, but there was nothing to be seen for miles around except the brown and green of the forest.

 

    A whooshing sound filled Paul’s ears, one that was very familiar to him after sparring so much in the dojo, and like lightning, Paul drew the knife concealed in his belt and stabbed it into the air behind him at chest level. The air rippled and cooled for a second, and then a shadow fell on the ground, and in a few more seconds, its source was revealed. In Paul’s arms lay a completely charred figure, everything on its body rough and black, except for its eyes, which were a glazed milky white, but sparkling like stars. For a moment, Paul just stared in disgust, when he was suddenly thrown back by an unseen force.

 

    When Paul opened his eyes, the charred thing had been reduced to ashes, and Paul felt strange... and powerful. Fresh energy coursed through his veins, but it was becoming to much. He tried pushing it out, and suddenly his hands burst into flames, and spread across him in a matter of seconds, but Paul just felt more alive, not harmed or different in any way. I’m hallucinating. This can’t be happening, Paul thought, and then without warning, he was started to rise slowly. Yeah, I’m definitely seeing things. Many thoughts raced through his mind at the moment, but he couldn’t believe this was actually happening to him.

 

    Soon, the whole forest was spread out below him. He willed himself to stop, and he did. Paul then noticed that he had had his breath held the whole time, and let it all out. After a few more deep breaths, Paul willed himself forward, and he found himself drifting towards nowhere in particular. He did the same thing to rise a bit higher, but then a tiny flash of red and orange down in the forest caught his eye. In the blink of his eye, it had covered everything and was still expanding. Only one thought came to him. Fire.

 

He swooped down before he could change his mind and landed in the very center. Paul blinked once, then twice. He felt completely normal. The air suddenly chilled, and a shadow spread over him. Paul looked up and saw a distinct figure hovering above, but he didn’t need anything to recognize who it was. Shadow. He shot up into the sky, and only then he realized that Shadow had stopped the fire. This made him falter, and that was all Shadow needed to get away.

 

    Paul spent the nine months like that. He would start fires to lure Shadow out, but every time he got away. Paul had been following Shadow’s general direction of escape, but that one Monday night, he hit home.

 

    Paul had been wading through some bushes when he stepped into the clearing. Ahead of him stood a cave with a barred entrance. As he approached, two devices popped out of the rock. One started scanning him, and as it got to his chest, the other device spoke: “Object recognized.” A small snake-like thing erupted from it and snatched Paul’s medallion, and also drained his powers. He immediately crumpled to the ground, feeling weak and powerless, but gathered enough strength to stand. As he did, the bars slowly lowered into the ground, leaving Paul free to enter.

   

    Something didn’t feel right though. The air chilled, like the hundreds of times before, and Paul looked up to face Shadow. “Took you long enough,” he mocked.

 

    “Trust me, your death will be a lot quicker,” replied Paul. Paul drew his sword, as did Shadow, who lowered to the ground. They both made eye contact, then started running towards each other. Their swords met in midair, and held there  for a second. As Shadow drew back, Paul threw the same knife he had used to kill the creature which gave him his powers. Shadow crumpled to the ground, blood slowly spreading from where the knife hit him.

 

    “Sensei…” Shadow had spoken his final words. A wave of dark rings circled from out of Shadow, and as they hit Paul, his powers came back to him. He looked one last time at Shadow, then turned around to fly back to the dojo.

 

    When Paul got back, Sensei was asleep in his office, but there was a picture of Paul’s own face on a bulletin board, with KILL written over it. This was what Shadow tried telling him. Without a second thought Paul unsheathed his sword and put it in Sensei’s heart, tears forming and dropping from his eyes. Heartbroken, he walked out and gathered his things to leave.

 

Grade
8

“ACE!” I yelled out the back door of my house and into the dark woods of Laramie,  Wyoming. “Ace!” I yelled again as I stepped onto the wet wood deck. I yelled one more time before I turned back and stepped into my tall boots. I hopped down the wet steps onto the damp mixture of soil and leaves. I walked down the trail, calling out. I walked even further down our usual trail. “ACE!” I called, hoping I would hear something back. I snapped my head to the left as something scuttled in the underbrush.

 

I took a step forward and craned my neck to see behind a tree. There he was, sniffing frantically around a patch of leaves and decaying wood. I walked towards him as he looked up, with a look of terror in his eyes. He nosed down into the leaves, sniffing and pushing with his snout. I walked over and crouched next to him, watching as he started to use his hind legs to push away the dirt. Tattered clothes started to show in the gaps in the leaves that Ace was creating. Slowly, a body started to emerge from under the dark leaves. I stood up, walked to the other side, and looked around into the woods around us. A broken twig drew my attention towards path of twigs and large footprints. I walked over and picked up the broken stick.

I took it back to where Ace was still frantically uncovering the body. I looked down at the body; a young man with a lumberjack beard and deep blue eyes looked back at me. I walked towards his feet and pulled off one of his muddy Timberland boots. I took the heavy shoes back to where the footprints started and turned the boot over. I held the boot down next to the footprint on the ground. They didn’t match.

I stood up, muttering to myself about what in the hell I had just found. I started walking back towards the trail.

“SHIT!” I yelled as my feet flew out from under me. I landed on my back, splattering mud all around me.

“Great! This day is going great,” I muttered sarcastically to Ace. I stood up, looking back towards the body. I stared down at the crater in the mud. A brown triangle protruded from the side of the crater.

I bent over and pulled at the triangle; it lifted out of the leaves easily. I brushed the dirt off of the unmarked leather wallet. I pulled open the two flaps of leather, a Colorado driver's license showed through a dirty, glossy plastic window. I read the name George Yost through the plastic. My heart skipped a beat. That was my dad’s name.

I ran frantically back to my house, Ace at my heels. I sprinted up the stairs. “Danny!” I yelled down the hall towards his room. “I need to talk to you.”

“Coming,” he retorted. I pulled out the wallet as he lumbered down our hallway.

“Take a look at this,” I said, tossing the wallet to him.

“What the hell is this?” he asked as he looked inside. “This is Dad’s. Where the hell did you get this?”

I told him about everything: the body, the wallet, the twig and the footprints. “Holy shit,” he said as his face went blank with confusion.

I stepped into my tall boots that lay on the mudmat as Danny did the same. I slid open the big, heavy glass door and stepped out onto the porch. I walked down the slippery steps, still wet from the spring rain.

“Which path is it?” he asked as he shivered in the wind. “Hold on, I’m gonna grab a sweatshirt.” He turned back to the house and opened the door.

I looked out into the dark mass of wood and leaves that made up my backyard. Something scuttled behind the first line of trees. A small crack rang out and the scuttle resumed. A figure rose from the leaves; a dark silhouette against the trees. The shape darted to the left, crossing the path and sprinted deep into the woods. Danny stepped out of the door, now wearing a sweatshirt.

“Did you see that?” I asked, my voice nervous and urgent.

“No, was I supposed to see something?” he asked.

“No, but some weird shit is happening.”

I led him down the steps and into the woods. The dark path squished below our feet as we trudged down the trail. The scuttle returned and I turned back, beckoning for Danny to stop walking.

“Listen,” I whispered, hoping it would happen again. Nothing.

“Damn!” I muttered as I resumed walking.

“What!” Danny asked, now picking up on my emotions.

“You missed it again!” I exclaimed. “Wait, listen.” My body froze up like a rock. A shape scampered from behind a tree into the dark corner of our vision.

“What the hell Luke? What’s happening right now?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I craned my neck around, hoping to see the figure. Nothing. I kept walking, trying to figure out what in the hell was happening. We finally made it to the tree where the body lay.

“Here it is,” I said, turning back towards Danny. “Take a look for yourself.”I walked towards the body. I stood, watching Danny kneel, examining the body. “I found the wallet over here when I slipped on the wet leaves. There were footprints over there, like somebody else came and dropped him,” I finally said.

“Was there anything else?” he asked.

“There was a broken twig, but that’s all that I found,” I replied. I walked over towards the footprints that led away from the body. “Are we just gonna go on with our lives and tell someone or stay here pondering about why our dad’s wallet was by this body?”

“We shouldn’t tell anyone yet. There has to be some explanation for this. I know you never really knew Dad, but we can’t tell anyone yet.”

“Why not? What if he actually murdered this guy?”

“He’s family; you don’t know him like I do,” Danny said.

“Well when I find a dead body in the woods with my runaway dad’s wallet nearby, what am I supposed to think?” I said with added snark and frustration. “I don’t care how well you knew or know Dad! I still think we need to at least tell Mom. We’re 14 and 17.This is a homicide, and it happened IN OUR BACKYARD! Not even counting the fact that there’s a creature or person running around, scaring the shit out of me!”

“Whoa, Luke, chill out a little. It’s gonna be okay,” he said as he looked around, now realizing what he was supposed to see earlier. I stood up, sucking in deep breaths and looking around. I went back over to the body, looking for a different clue. I dropped onto my knees next to the body and stuck my hand into the left jean pocket.

I pulled out a set of car keys. It was a carabiner with miscellaneous bronze keys and a big black Ford remote starter. I crawled around to the other side and dug my hand into the right pocket. I pulled out a thin, black leather wallet. I pulled open the flaps and removed an Idaho driver's license.

“Buck Roscoe,” I said as I threw to keys to Danny. “Only 22.” I stood up, brushing the dirt off of my knees. “We’ve gotta get home.” I walked past Danny who stood, examining the keys.

“Yeah, let’s get going.” We made it back to the house, with Ace wagging his tail at the door. I slid the heavy glass open and stepped out of my boots. I walked into the living room and flopped down into my beanbag chair and powered on my controller.

Minutes later, I stood up from the beanbag chair as a thumping came up the front porch steps. I pressed pause on the PS4 controller and went to the window to see who it was. All I could see was a big dark figure. I walked to the front door and cracked it open. I saw a face and immediately recognized him. I swung the door all the way open. It was my dad.

 

 

 

Grade
6

School can be a scary place when you don’t know who or what you’re dealing with. I was the new kid at school and I’d heard stories already.  It seemed like the whole school had been talking about how some of the teachers were monsters. I figured it was just something to give people a way to talk about tough teachers. Middle schoolers are like that, but what if I was wrong?  I had no idea what would happen if I got off on the wrong foot with one of these monsters.

It all started in Mrs. Hollaster’s class, she was my computer teacher. Everyone in my class dreaded going to her class. You could tell by the way they begged our teacher to let us stay in the classroom.  Mrs. Hollaster always told us to make sure we go to the restroom before class began. She threatened noon detention, counting us tarty, and even after school detention. No one thought she could actually do that, but when the lunch room started getting less packed people started going the the bathroom before class..

About five minutes into computer class one day,  my stomach started to hurt. Was I hungry? No, I had just eaten. Then I remembered, I hadn’t used the bathroom. Could I hold it until class was over?  No, it was an emergency. Oh my, I’m going to have lunch detention for the first time.  I was dreading having to ask Mrs. Hollaster to go, but I slowly walked up to her desk.

“Can I go to the restroom,” I quietly asked. She was nodding her head like she was saying “yes,” but she wasn’t looking at me. Even though I didn’t think she was saying “yes” and I should probably ask again, I went anyway.  If she had been saying “yes” she would yell at me for asking again. “How many times do I have to answer you, young lady?” she’d ask.

As I was washing my hands in the bathroom all of these thoughts started scaring me. Had she heard me? What if she hadn’t? What happens now? I was completely freaking out.

“What am I going to do?” I asked myself.

A few seconds later, the door slammed open. My heart started to pound.

“What are you doing in this bathroom without permission?” Mrs. Hollaster screamed.  I wanted to hide behind the trash can but that only make her more mad. What would provide me the most protection if she was a monster? Why didn’t I think of all this ahead of time, I wondered. I would have just held it a little longer!

“I don’t know,” I replied, half whining. “I came and asked you if I could.”

“And what did I say?” she demanded.  

“Nothing, but you were nodding your head.”

“Well there's nothing we can do about it now, can we? Just don’t do it again!” she exclaimed. I was embarrassed and shaken up. I didn’t want to go back to class because although her words said it was over, her past threats made me question the situation. What would she do when I got back to class?

Turns out I didn’t need to worry. When we got back in the classroom everyone was laughing because they knew I had gotten in trouble. They probably heard our conversation from the restroom. She’d gotten pretty loud. She told everyone to shush up or she’d give the whole class lunch detention. They instantly got back to typing, all of them in unison, just like little minions. Could it actually be that she was a monster with mind control powers? I took a seat and got back to work, too--just in case. That incident messed my whole day up, but the next day I was back up and running. Surely there were no monsters with mind-control powers--unless they’d already gotten to me.

I didn’t see anything suspicious that morning, but that changed when I got to the cafeteria for lunch. Everything’s suspicious in the cafeteria! We were going through the lunch line. At the doorway to the kitchen, Mr.s Chang made us point to the list of lunch choices she had. It was supposed to show what we had reported to our teachers that morning. I had told Mrs. Armstrong I wanted crispy chicken, or option two in cafeteria speak. But, when I pointed to my name on the list, it was blank.

Mrs. Chang started screaming at me, “Well, I’m going to give you lunch detention for today because you didn’t put your lunch option down and then you tried to lie about it.”

I tried to explain to her that I had put the option down. “I asked for crispy chicken,” I said.

“No you didn’t or you’d know you put it down. You’re lying again.”

“Well, I didn’t write it down. Our teacher wrote it down for us.”

“Well, then that’s another lie, isn’t it?”

I decided not to even argue about it anymore. There was a whole line of kids waiting behind me and I clearly wasn’t getting anywhere with this lady!

I turned and walked toward the door, headed to the lunch detention room.

“No,” Mrs. Chang called after me. “You’ve got to get a salad from the salad bar if you’re hungry!”

I sighed and turned toward the salad bar. Why was she so concerned about my eating all of a sudden? As I got my tray and started picking out salad toppings, I realized that Mrs. Chang was standing behind me now.

“Let me help you”, she said taking the tongs from my hand. “You obviously don’t know how to use them.” She started pinching carrots and dropping them on my tray.

“That’s enough,” I told her as the pile started to grow.
“Just a couple more, honey,” she said in a high-pitched, cackling voice. I couldn’t help wondering if she might have a little witch in her. As she kept piling carrots on my tray, I began to wonder what her obsession was with them, but I dismissed it and headed to detention.

I sat down to eat in silence as the detention rules stated. I looked at my salad and noticed the carrots were all dried and crusty. Could this possibly be the same carrots I’d seen in the cafeteria? Oh well, I thought and I ate them along with the rest of my salad.

Detention’s not so bad. You just have to eat quietly outside the cafeteria. Then, when you’re done you go out to recess like everyone else. I threw my trash away and headed out, glad to have this experience past me. “Guess there were no monsters involved afterall,” I thought.  But then it hit me. A nauseous feeling began to rise in my stomach. Strange as it seems, it felt like I had a headache in my stomach and little tiny creatures might be crawling around in there. I made a u-turn and headed to the nurse’s office.

On my way there, Mrs. Chang stepped out of the cafeteria and blocked my path.

“Why are you roaming the halls?” she asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be outside?”

I almost told her that I was headed to the nurses office, but what if she was one of the monsters? What if she’d intentionally done something to those carrots? I turned around and went back out to recess.

Mrs. O’Loughlin was on duty that day. “Why didn’t you go to the nurse,” she asked.

“I thought I’d get better out here--fresh air and all,” I told her.

“OK,” but let me know if you need anything, she told me.

I sat under a tree to rest and think of my next plan. I noticed others sitting around talking. Maybe I wasn’t the only one. Should I do something about this? Tell someone? Who was safe to tell? Were there really monsters in this school?

I decided my safest bet was to wait and see and that’s where I am now. Watching carefully and trying to lay low to see what’s going on. I’ve never asked to go to the restroom in Mrs. Hollaster’s class and I always bring my lunch to school.

Grade
9

Simon, 2038

 

The first day of my life that I can remember is the day that Toby was hit by a car. As bad as I’m sure I felt that day, though, that isn’t why I remember it. If Mom had taken him to any other hospital, I’m sure I would’ve forgotten the day just like all the others before it. I was only five, after all.

 

It’s been twenty years, and I haven’t forgotten.

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

The bed is hard and small. Too small. I don’t like it here. I want to go home.

 

Simon, 2038

 

The car sputtered a few times, then came to life. I had eagerly awaited my first ride in the front seat, and now that Toby was lying down, spread over all of the seats in the back, I finally had my chance. For Toby’s sake, I tried not to enjoy it. Since he was older, he had always wanted to be the first to watch the road up close. I decided not to tell him once he woke up that I had beat him to it.

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

The people come and go. They say things to me, but I don’t know what language they speak. I can’t possibly be in the United States anymore. These people all wear brightly colored baggy clothes, and the shirt always matches the pants. Sometimes they wear paper masks over their mouths when they come near me. Also, they like to poke me with sharp, pointy silver things, and attach small tubes to my arm. Maybe this is their way of inviting me into their tribe. I don’t like them very much.

 

Simon, 2038

 

Mom pulled up to the curb outside of the emergency room entrance. People rushed up to the car, eased Toby into a wheelchair, and rushed him inside. Tears streamed down Mom’s cheeks as she followed quickly behind, pulling me along with her. I had to run to keep up with her giant footsteps.

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

They took away all my things. Or maybe they didn’t and I just can’t find them because my legs aren’t working. If my legs worked, I could run away. They gave me books, but I can’t read them. Maybe the words are broken. I think I could read before I came here.

 

Simon, 2038

 

The chair I sat in was stiff and wooden and too tall for my short legs to rest on the ground. Mom’s eyes were red the whole time, and she seemed so sad, even though the people that took Toby said he would be okay.

I started to swing my legs back and forth, and Mom didn’t tell me to stop. She just stared straight ahead.

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

The only good thing I’ve gotten out of being here is my notebook. They gave it to me a few days ago, and I’ve been writing down everything that happens to me in it. Maybe someday I can sell it and become famous for my adventures, but first I have to escape from here. If only my legs worked.

 

Simon, 2038

 

Things calmed down a bit once Toby was admitted to the hospital. He had a big room and his own bathroom and a TV, and there was a remote with a button that could make a nurse come right to his room. After I pressed the button on the remote seventeen times, a nurse led me out of Toby’s room and into a room that was filled with toys and games and another TV. He played video games with me for a while, until a boy with no hair came in and asked to play. There were only two remotes, so I went to play with a toy train I saw in the corner. That is, until I noticed that the door to the hallway was open.

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

They keep taking my notebook and reading what I wrote in it. Actually, I don’t think they can read it. They always give each other confused looks, and then they look right at me and sigh. This behavior is perplexing. I wish I could ask them about it. Every time I try, though, they just stare at me. Like I’m the crazy one.

 

Simon, 2038

 

I slipped into the hallway soundlessly. Every time I saw a doctor or a nurse, I hid. At first I was looking for Toby’s room, but I became hopelessly lost in the maze of hallways.

I was just about to give up and call out to find someone to help me when I heard it. It was soft at first, but as I walked closer to the sound it grew louder and louder until I found myself outside of a door that was barely open. The door was heavy, but I  pushed it as hard as I could, and it creaked open.

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

There is a boy in my room. He is small and short, even shorter than me. He seems to be out of place here, because he isn’t wearing the strange, colorful clothes that the large people wear. Perhaps he is not here by choice, like me.

No, that can’t be right. They have made me wear long, baggy shirts that have strings in the back holding them together. The one I am wearing right now has little pictures of cartoon clowns on it. He is wearing clothes that are too big for him, but perhaps that is just because he is so small. I wonder who he is.

 

Simon, 2038

 

The room was a lot like Toby’s, all except for the fact that it contained neither Toby nor Mom. Instead, the bed contained a small girl. The sound I had heard turned out to be her murmuring to herself. Her eyes were glazed, but she stared at me, not blinking. I can remember saying “What’s your name?”

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

No. No, no, no, no. He is one of them. He speaks their language.  This is some elaborate trick to get me to let my guard down.

 

Wait. Now I can remember. He asked me a question. He asked my name, and I understood him.

 

Simon, 2038

 

I told her everything about me. My name, my age, what my kindergarten class had been doing for a science project. I asked to know everything about her. She just stared at me and scribbled in a notebook as I pestered her with questions. I talked on and on, for what felt like hours, but must have been two minutes. I stopped talking when I heard footsteps outside the door.

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

He said something. He said something and I heard it. He said many things after, and is still saying them now, but I can’t understand him. But I did. I’m trying to tell him my name, but my mouth won’t work. I have to try harder. I have to. I have to. Say it. Say it. Say it.

Say it.

 

Simon, 2038

 

The nurse from the video game room was out of breath and looked slightly panicked as he burst into the room to pull me away from the girl in the bed. “You can’t be in here,” he said. “How did you even get in?”

“Mary Beth!” yelled the girl in the bed, and the nurse must have lept a foot in the air. “Someone! Come quick!” he yelled. “She…. she’s awake!”

Mary Beth stared at me, wide eyed. That was when I noticed it. He eyes were no longer glazed. They were clear.

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

I said it! I did! I really did! Everyone is yelling. The boy is smiling. Everything is good.

Wait. I know where I am. They brought me here. So I can get better. I don’t know why I forgot. It all seems so clear now.

 

Simon, 2038

 

They were all talking at once. “I never thought…” “For her to say her name… seems impossible. Are you sure…” “... yes, we’ll have to let her family know…” “Amazing! Simply amazing!”

I just stared at Mary Beth. I could tell she was happy.

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

Something is wrong. It’s all going away. I want to keep everything that I know, but it’s leaving. Everything is running away.

 

Simon, 2038

 

I was the first one to notice it. The doctors caught on quickly.  Her eyes began to unfocus. She was fading away.

 

Mary Beth, 2018

 

The strange people are all staring at me. I wonder why they are doing that. I just want to be left alone. I don’t like them very much.

 

Simon, 2038

 

“That’s all I can really remember about that day. After that, I just know that I must have been escorted out of Mary Beth’s room. They must have brought me back to Mom. We must have gone home together.”

“Please, I just need to know if she’s here. My searches have lead me to this place. Please, just tell me. I need to know if she’s okay.”

 

Mary Beth, 2038

 

The bed is hard and small. Too small. I don’t like it here. I want to go home.

 

Grade
10

“Oh god it is just awful when something happens like that. We will put them in our thoughts and prayers.” Julia’s mother said in a tone more appropriate for saying ‘The garbage trucks never came by,’ or ‘I noticed you got an E on your last math test.’ Julia looked up from her mashed potatoes at her mother’s face with a look of confusion.

“Julia, pay attention when we are having a discussion. Good lord I tell you this almost everyday.” She looked back down and began scooping peas and potatoes onto her fork vigorously. It seemed as though she thought the more she played with her food the more her point would come across.

“John and Barb from down the road? You know them, you used to play with their daughter Melissa. Well, they have become tragic.”

Julia released a sound she had never heard before. A nervous laughter that in no way sounded humourous.

“What do you mean they have ‘become tragic’?”

Julia’s father, who had been checking his email, now decided it was his turn to explain things to his daughter.

“Julia, John and Barb were not the...brightest people in the world. You know that, you went to their house. You saw the way they lived. They didn’t own a single weapon in the whole place. Not even a shotgun. I told them over and over ‘you need to get a firearm because otherwise someone is gonna come into your home and shoot your children dead. D-E-A-D dead and now look what.”

“Joseph!” his wife interjected as color began to rise in her face.

“We do not speak those words. Especially not at the dinner table. There is no reason to say things that will upset people. Especially your own daughter.”

Julia shot her mother a firey look. It did not matter however for her mother was now taking a sip from her chilled white wine to try and calm down.

“Oh Julia knows more than you think she does. I saw her reading...John...Stainbach?”

“John Steinbeck, Joseph.”

“Right, thank you Mary.  John Steinbeck that was his name. God I could never understand him. He was too wordy. Just get to the point for God sakes. But maybe you understand what he is trying to say a little bit better than me. I know you’ve always loved english.”

Julia smiled a half hearted smile. Her mind was still on what tragic meant and how had the Johnsons died? Julia’s mother was now shaking her head.

“Julia I wish you would spend less time reading and more time on your computer class. That is a skill that will take you places. You know your uncle is a computer engineer, maybe I should call…”

In the middle of Julia’s mother’s sentence there was a banging on the door. It was very loud and odd. It was dinner time in the suburbs, no one ever knocked on the door at this hour. Julia and her mother jumped but her father looked quickly at the gun hanging on the wall behind him. He angrily grabbed it and said “Who the hell is knocking right now!?”

He left the dining room and as he was walking Julia noticed his hands were shaking.

Julia heard the sound of her father opening the door. Then she heard the sound of the gun shots. Loud and deafening.

Once the ringing in her ears had stopped, she realized she was crouching on the floor. As she tried to get up she hit her head on something. She saw that she had somehow moved from her chair to underneath the table when she had heard the gun firing. As she got out from underneath the white table she could hear someone screaming. A loud wail of shock and despair.

“You monsters! You monsters!” It felt like her mother had been shouting it for hours. Julia ran to her mother who was now holding her father’s dead body. He was covered in blood, and his eyes were wide open, the gun still in his hand.

Sunlight poured in through a door shaped hole in the front of the entrance hall. It was dusk so it was a bit dimmer outside but even so Julia crept on all fours to the porch. She heard someone shouting

“THOUGHT YOU COULD FIRE ME JOSEPH? HUH? WELL NOW YOU JUST GOT WHAT YOU DESERVE!!” The man in the pick up truck shouted as he drove away. An American flag was painted onto the back. Julia was watching the truck drive down the street full of neighbors when she noticed one of the cameras on the streetlights had begun to flash rhythmically. Julia watched it for a while too scared to move when she heard a loud noise for the third time in the last fifteen minutes. Julia quickly sprinted into the nearest room and locked the door. After about thirty seconds she heard her mother shouting her name. She slowly unlocked the door to see a gigantic black metal box that took up most of the room with a huge red plus sign on one of the sides. It’s two great doors opened to reveal a gurney and two humanoid androids. The androids pushed the gurney out of the box and placed Julia’s father onto it. They strapped him down with great black belts and covered him in a black plastic bag. There was no light in the box so once the androids and the bag were inside, the only thing the two women could see were the light of the androids’ eyes. The eyes were there to provide people with a more human presence, but when Julia saw them she only shuddered. The doors slowly closed silently. When she thought it was about to fly out of the hall she heard something printing and saw a white piece of paper coming out of the front of the box which read, “Your government provides its condolences. We will always remember the TRAGEDY that has taken place here. We advise you to always have a weapon on your person and to be thankful for the freedom this country provides...Joseph Smith. Time of death 6:14 PM. 3879 Blue Skies Avenue. You will forever be in our thoughts and prayers.”

The two women watched as the sheet of paper fell to the floor slowly turning from white to red. The drone flew out of the entrance hall, through the porch and up into the sky. Never to be seen again. Julia stood still as a board as she heard her mother get up from the floor.

“Goodness. I need to get a mop to clean up all this...this…”

Mary seemed unable to say the word ‘blood’. She brought her hands to her face, violently trying to brush away the tears that were streaming down. In  the process however she had forgotten she had been holding her husband’s dead body and made her face red from the blood. She looked up at the ceiling willing her eyes not to shed anymore tears. Then she looked back at her daughter. Her daughter was standing so still she could have easily been mistaken for a statue. Her eyes so wide you could see the white around her irises at the top.

“What?” Her mother asked with a hint of anger.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Julia look at the blood on the ground. Then she asked her mother a question.

“What do you think happened to dad?”

Her mother, without hesitation said, “Your father has become tragic. Just an awful thing that I pray doesn’t happen to you.”