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The Ink Blot CrewEditor-in-Chief

Sarah S.

Assistant Editors-in-ChiefChris K., Meghan N., Erin N.

Fearless LeaderMs. Baynes

StaffDianna C., Isobella C., Maddy C.,

Brendan D., Gillian D., Katie F., Lexi G., Dylan K., Michaela L., Katherine V., Alex Z.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

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The Guardian, Meghan N................……………………………………………….…….…4An Appropriate epilogue, Dylan K....................……...……………………………...4About Me, Annie C.................……………………………………………………….…....6Taking the Hill, Matt S................………………………………………………..………7Apologia, Devin C.................………………………………………………………....…..8A Big Deal, Chris K.................…………………………………………………….……....9Rejuvenation, Meghan N................…………………………………………….…….…9Any Day, Christian S................………………………......................................………..10For Dennis, Chris K..................………………………………………………….……....11If, Annie C...................………………………………………………………………...…....11Another Year Gone, Erin N................……………………………………………......12The Legend of Angela Summer, Toni H.................…………………………..……13Your Name IN Lights, Chris K.................………………………………...…………...17The Legend of Daniel Crow, Brendan D....................………………….…………17Lost, Meghan N................………………………………………………………………...22Growing Up, Meghan N................………………………………………………………22Courage, Chris K................……………………………………………………...………23That Girl, Christian S...............………………………………………………….………23Masked, Catherine V..................………………………………………………...……….23The First Snow, Meghan N...............…………………………….……………………24Your Eyes, Katelyn C.................……………………………………..........……………25Gabe and Joyce, Anonymous………….......……………………………...……………26Sestina, Ryan H.........................……………………………………….………………...29The Random, Krista D..................………………………………...……..………………30

The Ink Blot welcomes submissions from all Duxbury High School students. Please send your poems, stories, photos, scanned drawings to the following

address:inkblot@rocketmail.com

See us on the web at http://www.duxbury.k12.ma.us/dhs/inkblot.html

All Illustrations from http://office.microsoft.com/en-us/clipart except where indicated.

Cover illustration from www.doverpublications.com

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The Guardian

Meghan N.

Sitting here on the steps

I see things differently.

In the yard I see a guard

Instead of just a tree.

The knotted trunk is armor,

And beneath that lies the skin,

The leaves up high are the helmet,

To protect it from the wind.

The head sways back and forth,

Keeping watch up in the sky.

But feet stay rooted to the spot,

To stop you passing by.

And when I go back indoors

To escape the bitter cold,

I know my guardian is standing by,

Ancient, strong, and bold.

An Appropriate EpilogueDylan K.

From its very beginning, Hitomi had a feeling that today would be a good day. It was sunny, warm, and the world just seemed right. Her father always said that she must be able to see into the future, with her beautiful eyes. It was why her parents had named her Hitomi, the Japanese word for “pupil.”

This thought reminded her of her father, a sharp but quick tug away from her good mood. She missed her father every day; it hadn’t quite been six months since he had been killed on Iwo Jima. Her friends all told her to be proud of her father, that there was no greater sacrifice he could have given, and that he could now reside at the Yasukuni Shrine with all the other warriors. Hitomi scolded herself for feeling so sentimental; her friends were right, it was her father’s great honor to die on the battlefield.

When she walked to the kitchen, Hitomi found her mother also looking in a cheerful mood; she was even humming a little as she walked around the kitchen, something she rarely did these days. Hitomi had always hidden her grief over her father’s death from everyone, even herself, but her mother had been openly

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devastated. For three days she had refused to get out of bed, refused to eat, refused to drink. For two weeks she hadn’t uttered a word to anyone; and Hitomi could still often hear her cry at night. Her mother had worked for three years on a military assembly line before being injured, and Hitomi knew better than to think her weak. But she often wondered why her mother couldn’t see the honor in her husband’s sacrifice.

“Morning, mother,” said Hitomi. “How are you feeling?” she asked, not wanting to directly ask her why she was so cheerful.

“Quite fine, thank you, dear,” her mother replied. “Why do you ask?”

“You just seem rather upbeat, is all,” remarked Hitomi.

“Well now that you ask,” her mother said, “I saw Hanako when I was taking a walk earlier this morning, and she said that Susumu is coming home from the hospital in a week!”

“Oh! Oh, mother, that’s wonderful!” cried Hitomi. “I thought he would… I mean…”

“Yes, I know; I thought so too. The wounds he received in Burma were quite serious, but he’s pulled through, and has received a furlough to recover for a month. Oh, Hitomi, you must be so happy.”

“Yes, I am…” she trailed off. During the first few weeks after her father’s death, with her mother in such a horrible condition, Susumu’s letters home had been the only thing that kept Hitomi going. When she heard that he had been wounded, she was weakened by fear; if she lost him, she didn’t know what she would do. With her father, the notice had been sudden, but with Susumu, the uncertainty nearly killed her. Hitomi also remembered a promise that Susumu had made to her before he left more than a year ago: that if he returned, he would marry her. She knew that his return home would be temporary, but she also knew that he would propose to her.

“Oh, mother, I have to go tell someone! I’m going to see Nori!”

“Yes, go ahead.” Hitomi’s mother looked for a moment at her daughter running to see her friend. She thought to herself, “Maybe, maybe she will be luckier than I.”

Hitomi was so excited; she didn’t even stop to dress. Wearing only sandals and a robe, she sprinted to her friend Nori’s house, nearly a half kilometer away. When she got there and knocked on the door, Nori looked quite worried; she thought something must be wrong. But when she heard the news, she hugged Hitomi, almost as excited as she was. They went inside and they talked for a while about Susumu, his service, and, of course, his imminent proposal.

“Hitomi,” said Nori, “I’m just so happy for you. You must have children right away! It will be wonderful!”

Hitomi started, a little taken aback. “Well, Nori,” she said, “I don’t think we’ll do that quite yet. He’s only coming back for a month. I figured we would wait until the war is over.”

“Oh, Hitomi,” Nori said, “I’m afraid that that probably won’t be possible. I don’t think it unpatriotic at this point to say that the war is not going too well. It is the duty of every son of Japan to give his last until the Americans give up in frustration. They are weak, and balk at loss of life. You should be ready to have a child to continue the family line, just in case.”

Hitomi’s posture visibly shrank several inches at this blunt statement. The thought of Susumu’s death no longer being a possibility but inevitable was more than she could take after just learning that she would see him again. She quickly excused herself, saying she needed some fresh air.

Hitomi never audibly sobbed when she cried, but seeing her cry could break even the most stoic man’s heart. She was humiliated at crying in public, but she couldn’t go back home; she couldn’t allow her mother to see her like this now. She found herself praying to the gods to forgive her selfishness, to allow Susumu to return to her safely, to provide a speedy end to the war.

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After several minutes, however, Hitomi regained her composure. She went into a nearby tea house where, as she sipped her tea, she told herself that even if Susumu was killed, she would at least have him for a month, which was more than many women could ask for. She decided that she would take a few more moments to regain her composure, and then return to Nori to apologize for her abrupt departure. Idly, she picked up a newspaper lying on the ground.

Another thought soon came to her as she leafed through the pages: There was no god on earth so cruel as to allow her to spend a month with her true love, conceive a child, and then to suddenly take away this unborn child’s father. In fact, she concluded, the fact that Susumu was returning for a month was proof that it was the will of the gods that she and Susumu would spend their lives together.

Immeasurably revived by this realization, Hitomi proceeded to read the paper for awhile. It read: “August 6, 1945, Our Glorious And Noble Emperor Predicts The Annihilation Of The Cowardly Americans, As Reported By The Hiroshima Times…”

About MeAnnie C.

Hi! My name is Annie Spirit C. I am sixteen years old and I go to Duxbury High School. I have a brother and a sister. Also, I am an aunt to a five-year-old boy.

I am a very characteristic person who cares a lot about little kids and about any people who treat people with respect. People should think about respect because it’s very important; it’s the way you want to be treated yourself. Also, you have to think about people who are totally different from you; you have to understand how they feel! People in this world sometimes do not think.

My nephew is just like I was at his age. He is very nice and is a good kid. Like me, he is concerned about people who might be hungry and cold. We both like to take care of people.

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Taking the HillMatt S.

As we ran through the field I realized the tremendous weightof the tool I carried. Forthere was no noise, nothingto distract me exceptfor my own steps and the silence. As we ran it was the silence

that made me shake. I watched as my fee ran with my orders. Exceptnow we reached the trench and began to waitfor the order to start. But nothing happened. The silence rained for

what seemed like forever, but was probably three or fourminutes. Then the sergeant arrived and broke the silence.“Ready men, load up. Go for that hill. Leave nothing alive.” We nodded in consent. “Aye, aye, captain,” someone joked. “On the ridge, wait…GO!” And then the world and everything in it rushed by, except that great tool stayed in focus. Still all was quiet exceptfor the pounding of my own hear. Fora few minutes the world seemed to waitfor them to hear and shatter the silence.And as I watched I saw eyesappear on that hill, out of nothing. And then thunder exploded from that nothing.Thousands of my friends fell exceptthey would never rise again. And suddenly all I wanted was the silence back, forit seemed the noise was determined to kill the silenceand how there was no way to wait. As we climbed the hill, a great weightpushed us all down into nothing.The buzzing objects sent them into silence.We fell, and bled, and died, exceptsomething kept pushing us on, forwe took the hill,and tears rolled from my eyes, as the silence resumed and I stood and began to wait.I looked around me and saw nothing worth this, nothingstanding besides myself, except that I couldn’t even remember what I stood for.

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Apologia, Nurse RatchedDevin C.

My breath comes hard to meStabbing me withEachAnd everyDrip of air I try to swallow greedily through the twisted metal wreckage that is my throat.

I overlook my ward with a new vision.With one eye blind to the world

I can finally see the truth.I never really had control. I grasped at a power that far surpassed my own. No matter how I hide my hair or my features, I was created a woman. The patients all know. I can see the way they look at me now. Eyes that once carried only the glaze and timidity of a rabbit now look at me with the hunger and ferocity that I thought I could quell. I came back to the ward as beaten as I had left it. I thought I could win against that bastard Randle. After our struggle for the patients I was so sure that I would have the last laugh. My throat is too bruised to let a laugh pass my lips.They killed him.Even beyond the grave he mocks me. He was to be an example to the patients, but they have grown far too rebellious to bend to my will. These men who were once putty in my hand, Tabula Rasa, a blank slate for me to mold, now carry the same tenacity and stubborn indignation as the white whale that I had hunted. I may have taken down the whale, but in his writhing death he dragged my ship and crew to the bottom of the ocean with him.And what of Ishmael? How is Mr. Bromden faring after his daring and reckless escape from the hospital? I shudder to imagine what secrets he learned while he was at this hospital. To think he fooled us for so long with his deaf act. It’s as if a second whale has burst from the corpse of the first, but I know better this time. There is no point to chasing the undaunting, catching the intangible, training the untrainable. I thought I could break Randle, but it seems as though he broke me. Let Mr. Bromden try to fare his own in the cruel world. He will tire. They always do.As I look at my ward I can see it is near vacant. All that are left are the shadows of past men, too ill to leave on their own accord. The serfs have all been released or transferred, leaving the Queen with a land that can no longer be worked.

However, I don’t lose faith. Though I am left with nothing, more will come. Each and every man in the world is like a cog in a clock. Cogs that are constantly spinning and grinding. They will all break eventually. Each and every cog must be in proper working order for the clock to keep time.

I am a watchmaker.Though I may fix the watch I do not determine the time it is set to; I realize this now. I can prolong the order, but cannot make it. The watchmaker herself is just another part in the ever-expanding watch that is time. I serve my purpose because it is all I know.

I overlook my ward with a new visionWith one eye blind to the world

I can finally see the truth He has won.

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Chris K.

Dude. Chicks write poetry about me. I’m kind of a big deal. www.doverpublications.com

Rejuvenation Meghan N.

Anew, anew, a new day

Breaks upon the horizon,Breathing life into darkness,

Refreshing, and coercingFeelings of calm and of fear

In synchronicity, as one,A commencement of sorts.

A rejuvenation of sensations,With a new beginning.

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For DennisChris K.

If I make up something Like a poemAbout the time you taught me aboutDancing, and lifeAnd how no one really knows how to danceWe all just have to fake it?I know this didn’t really happenBut even if you didn’t say itOr maybe even weren’t thinkingThese thoughts I learned by watching,Does this make it any less true?Or for that matter, any more true?Anyway, here’s the poem you asked for.

IfAnnie C.

If I were president of the United States, I would change so much! I would make the world easy for the poor. Also I would make it so that no one ever bullies anyone, or fights! It would make such a difference to the world.

I would also make sure that all of the kids in orphanages have nice families. I would give homes to the homeless. And I would make sure everyone got a good education.

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Another Year GoneErin N.

She wakes to another warm day,gazing at the blank wall. Chimes rain

down from the alarm clock, and she longs to hit the “sleep”button again. Her mother flips open the blinds

mercilessly, and she shivers as a chillhits her full force. Time to run.

Another fall, another school year, and days run

into one another. The dailyroutine continues, even as the autumnal chill

colors the leave with vibrant reds, yellows, oranges; even the raincannot dampen the crisp beauty. The blind

sun grows cooler and cooler as the world slips into sleep.

Under the frigid white blanket, the world sleepsas if in a trance. She waits, the days running

by until vacation, school days blindto her utter torture. Each day

goes on and on, as hard ice begins to rainfrom the sky, but there is a promise left with the chill.

As the days grow shorter and grayer, the friendly chill

disappears. The dismal beast sleepsuneasily, ready at any moment to wake, roar, rain

down on the world gusty blasts of ice. The time runsslow, as people wait for long days,

the warm, vibrant sun leaving them happy but blind.

The flowers spring forth from the thaw, and she is blindto her past woes. The promise of summer replace the chill

of winter as each daydraws her closer to the sun, the sand, the long hours o f sleep.

But now she must focus, stop runningher mind off to faraway places. Just watch the rain.

Even with the flowers bringing the world back to life, the rain

will not stop. The bright sun one day blinds,but the next day disappears behind clouds, and rain runsdown the windowpane. Spring is here, but a fearful chill

still trembles on the edge of all. The sun sleepsfitfully, waiting for those longer days.

She runs from school, uncaring of the warm rain

that pours down today. She is blindto the blight, the chill as she wakes from school’s sleep.

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The Legend of Angela SummerToni H.

Katie and Jess had been best friends for as long as they could remember. Ever since they had been forced to share over-sized pencils and broken crayons in elementary school, they had also shared secrets and long afternoons at their favorite playground. Now that they were older, their friendship stayed intact, but their interests had changed and differed. However, one topic that both Katie and Jess always agreed on was boys. Those who didn’t know Katie, those who saw her in passing as they walked by, would glance and then look away. “No big deal,” they’d think. But later they would think and wonder about her, and want to see her again. She always had that effect on people. She had that kind of beauty that sneaks up on you, and you can’t really figure out what it is. Her short brown hair perfectly accentuated her bright blue eyes that seemed to call you after her. She dressed like most seventeen-year-old girls do, with skirts and sweatshirts. Jess’ beauty, on the other hand, hit you like an explosion. Her long blonde hair went halfway down her back and her hazel eyes seemed to pierce right though you, even from across the room. Her favorite outfit: tight jeans and tank-top. One foggy Monday morning, Jess was driving to school with Katie in the passenger’s seat and her nine-year-old sister, Melissa, in the back. Jess always had Melissa with her; their mom thought it was the greatest thing that Jess had the ability to drive and baby-sit. Katie was busy finishing her history homework before their ten minute drive was over, and Jess was playing with the radio. “It’s not working,” said Jess, in a frustrated tone. “What’s not working?” responded Katie, who was only paying attention to Theodore Roosevelt’s reforms. “The radio! Jesus, Katie, what else do you think I’m talking about? All I’m getting from this damn thing is fuzz!” Jess angrily shut the radio off and turned into the elementary school parking lot. “Your stop, Mel. Get out.”

“Just because you’re mad doesn’t mean you have to be mean to me. Good-bye Katie!” yelled Melissa. She grabbed her Hannah Montana backpack and ran to catch up with her pack of friends. Jess then pulled out of the school with the radio still turned off. The high school was just around the corner, and Katie managed to put all of her homework away before Jess parked in her assigned space. As usual, Katie’s boyfriend, Jet, was sitting on the stairs of the school listening to his iPod as he waited for them. As he saw them pull up, he hurriedly took his headphones off and shoved them in his pocket. “Katie, please don’t do this again. It’s painful to watch.” Jess pleaded as they walked across the parking lot. “Sorry, I have to; there’s nothing else I can do,” said Katie, unusually calm. She walked right up to Jet and gave him a hug. Jet was a skinny guy with shaggy brown hair that covered his eyes. His clothes were nothing special and he was always either drawing or listening to his iPod. Jess did not like him at all. “Hey, Kate! God, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! How was basketball practice last night?” asked Jet excitedly. “Her name’s actually Katie,” muttered Jess. It was loud enough for Jet to hear, but he didn’t even seem to see her, let alone hear her. Katie elbowed Jess in the side and took a step closer to Jet. “It was good. Yeah, Coach had us do extra drills at the end; that’s why I was home extra late,” explained Katie. “Don’t even worry about it,” reassured Jet, flashing a huge smile. Katie turned and walked through the school’s double doors, thinking about the lie she just told. It was a lie she continuously told, but it somehow always made her feel a twinge of guilt.

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She had not been at basketball practice last night. She didn’t even play basketball anymore. She had been out seeing Andrew, just like every other night. At the end of the day, Katie went to meet Jess over by her car. “You seeing him again today?” asked Jess, innocently, but with a hint of sarcasm. “Yep. Why do you care?” “I don’t really. It’s not like I care that you’re hurting Jet or anything. I don’t even like Jet. I wanted you to dump him months ago, and that’s still what I think you should do.” “Whatever. It’s my life. Just drive, please.” Katie knew that Jess was partly right. Not that she should dump Jet, but the fact that she was hurting him. Nonetheless, Katie loved the feeling she got when she thought about Andrew. Even thinking about him now made her heart beat faster and gave her butterflies in her stomach. “Wait,” said Jess suddenly, “didn’t I turn the radio off this morning?” Katie thought for a minute, and realized that Jess was right. The radio was playing “Hot ‘N Cold,” by Katy Perry. They both figured that Jess had turned it back on and completely forgotten about it. At six o’clock on the dot, Katie pounded down the stairs of her house and grabbed her backpack. Quickly running into the kitchen where her mom was cleaning up from dinner, she told her that she was going to Jess’s house to do homework and that she would be back at nine. Her mom knew the routine; this was what Katie had done every evening for the past month. Katie opened the front door and walked to the next street over where Andrew’s car was running. “Hey, babe! I missed you,” said Andrew smoothly as he kissed her on the cheek. Katie smiled shyly and buckled her seatbelt. To be honest, she got a little nervous when Andrew drove. He was reckless. Andrew was tall, dark, and extremely handsome. Katie loved this about him. She also loved his notoriously dangerous attitude. He didn’t take anything from anyone, and some people were a little afraid of him. Plus, he was a senior, and he made Katie feel alive. Andrew took the car out of park and drove down the road toward his house. Naturally, he only took Katie there when his parent’s weren’t home. As he was driving, she noticed that instead of music playing from the radio, it was only static. “I don’t think your radio is working.” commented Katie. “Yeah, it hasn’t been working all day. I hate this piece of junk car,” responded Andrew, speeding down the busy street. “That’s weird,” thought Katie. “Jess’ radio wasn’t working either. There must be a tower down somewhere.” Suddenly, in the middle of her reverie, she heard a piercing cry. She whipped her head around, expecting to see an accident. However, to her surprise, she didn’t see anything. There wasn’t even another car behind them. “Did you hear that?” asked Katie with a puzzled expression. “What?” Andrew didn’t seem concerned. She decided that it was nothing, and proceeded to revel in just being with Andrew. The next day, Katie was exhausted. Andrew had kept her out very late that night—so late that her parents had been furious when she got home. Even though she justified herself but saying that she and Jess had had an extreme amount of homework, she was grounded for a week. “You should have called,” they explained. Jess was a little late picking her up for school that day. Apparently, Melissa had slept in. To make things worse, it was a dreary, miserable, rainy day. “I’m grounded,” sighed Katie. “Dude! How’d you manage that one?” Jess questioned. “I missed my curfew.” Katie did not explain any further, but continued to gaze out the window.

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“I know why you were out so late! You guys think that I don’t know anything, but I do! I know you

were out with Andrew!” exclaimed Melissa. Katie wasn’t surprised. After all, Melissa was always around. “You shouldn’t do that!” Melissa continued. “ Jet seems like a nice guy, and you’re just being mean. I think …” As Melissa rambled, Jess attempted to make up for lost time by finding a short-cut to school. She somehow ended up on the other side of town, over by the railroad tracks. “Oh, okay. I totally know where I am now. Don’t you guys even worry. I can handle this.” Jess was mostly trying to calm herself. She continued down the narrow road and across the railroad tracks. Well, almost across.

All of a sudden, the car stopped. “What just happened?! My car! Come on, come on …” Jess furiously turned the key again and again, to no avail. She was just about to quit when there was a loud ringing. “Jess, Jess! The train is coming! Look at the lights! Look!” Katie screamed, which did not help the situation. Melissa stopped talking about Andrew and looked up with sheer panic in her eyes. No one could do anything. It was all up to the car.

Jess kept turning the keys. Finally, after what seemed like an age, the car started. Jess hurriedly sped as fast as she could off of the tracks. She then pulled over to the side of the road as they al l watched the train fly past behind them. No one said anything for a few minutes. “That was all your fault Katie!” yelled Melissa.“What?! How could that have been my fault? I didn’t do anything!” replied Katie angrily. “Yes it was. You don’t know the story. You have angered Angela!” “Who? You’re talking like a crazy person, Mel.” “No, I’m not, it’s real. I heard it in school. Now, let me tell you the Legend of Angela Summer,” said Melissa, seriously. “Oh, I’m so scared.” “Shut up Katie,” said Jess. “Let her speak.” “Once upon a time, about thirty years ago, there was a seventeen year old girl named Angela Summer. She was smart, funny, and everyone was jealous of her. Her sophomore year of high school, she met the man of her dreams. He was everything she had always wanted, smart and funny, just like her, but also a sweet guy that didn’t change his attitude towards her even if they were with his friends. He even told her that he wanted to spend his life with her.

They had been dating for over a year when everything changed. She went over to his house one day to surprise him after school. She thought that no one was home; there were no lights on. As she turned to leave, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned back around, and in the window, she saw her boyfriend kissing a friend from school! Angela could not believe her eyes. She realized that everything he had told her was a lie. She was furious. S he thought about barging in there, but, what was the use? The relationship was over. Instead, she jumped in her car and sped home. As soon as she walked in the door, her parents knew that something was wrong. Usually, Angela was always smiling. Right now, her expression was scornful. She did not say one word to them as she quietly walked upstairs to her bedroom. She didn’t know what to do with herself. She was angry, yet deeply hurt and betrayed by what had happened.

“I’ll show him,” she said to herself. “He hurt me, and now he needs to know how it feels to lose someone you love.” She proceeded to get dressed in her favorite pink summer dress and put her smooth brown hair into low ponytails. Then, in her state of emotion, Angela hanged herself right in her bedroom. She

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left a note, laid it on the floor under her, and it read: “Now you know how I feel.” “Angela died in a fury. This has stayed with her into the afterlife. To this day, Angela continues to walk this earth as a ghost and seek revenge on those who cheat on their boyfriends and girlfriends. She doesn’t want any other innocent person to feel the pain that she had felt. You will know that she is with you because everything in your life will go wrong. Then, in her final stage, you will see Angela. You will see her in her pink dress with a dark, red rope burn around her neck. She will do anything to get you. And now, Katie, Angela is coming after you.” As Melissa ended her story, Jess was pale, and Katie pretended not to be affected. “For one thing, I don’t believe in ghosts. Also, I’m not doing anything wrong,” Katie lied. She really didn’t believe in ghosts, but she knew she was doing something wrong. “You can think whatever you want, but I know I’m right.” Melissa shrugged and adjusted her seatbelt. “Okay, we are now officially twenty minutes late for school. We have to go,” said Katie, who was happy to change the subject. Jess didn’t say anything; she just drove the rest of the way to the school. That night, Katie was home in her room instead of being with Andrew. “I hate being grounded,” thought Katie. “Maybe my dad will let me go out on Sunday. I can tell Jet that I’m at church.” She changed into her warm, flannel pajamas and climbed into bed. Suddenly, she heard a noise. It was a creaking. “It’s just my imagination.” said Katie out loud. Then, she heard it again. And again, and again. She couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. She sat up in bed and looked around, only to have the translucent visage of Angela staring right at her. Katie couldn’t breathe. Angela was standing in a frayed, pale pink dress with a little bow at the top. Around her shoulders was a cropped, white short-sleeved sweater. Her hair was parted in the middle into two low ponytails. Finally, Katie saw the prominent, dark red scar across her neck. As soon as she appeared, she disappeared. Katie now knew that it was true. She couldn’t sleep, and she knew that she had to do something.

The next morning, Katie had not slept a wink. She needed to make a decision between Jet and Andrew. Furthermore, Angela had seriously traumatized her. When it was a decent hour, Katie picked up her cell phone. She knew what she had to do to make things right. After the line rang four times, the voicemail picked up. Katie then left this message: “Hey, it’s me. I know it’s early, but I really need to tell you something. I just c an’t do this anymore. My feelings for you are not as strong as they are for someone else. I’m sorry it had to come to this, but, it’s over.” Jess picked her up right on time. Katie looked like a mess. “What happened to you?” Jess asked. “I had to break it off,” replied Katie quietly. “With Andrew? Good. I’m glad that you’re doing the right thing,” said Melissa, smiling. “Actually, no, with Jet. I can’t stand him anymore.” “What? Katie, did anything I say get through to you? Ugh! Well, at least now you’re only dating one person.”

Melissa sank back into her seat and listened to Katie and Jess talk about the latest gossip this week. “Some things never change,” muttered Melissa.

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Your Name in Lights Chris K.

I want to watch the lightsdance on your eyesas you take the stage by storm. You’ll steal their hearts,and I know that’s what you’re good at.But I’ll be in the front rowwatching you go, ‘cause I knowYou’re going places.I know I'll see your name in lights. Girl, I know you’re a star.You’re going to take the world by storm.For you it's not that hard...And I'll see your name in lights,I'll be your narratorand write your stories‘Cause seeing you win, girl,that is my dream.I see the story in your eyes.I see what you will be.When everyone is praising you loud, I'll be the one calling your name from the crowd.

The Legend of Daniel CrowBrendan D.

So, care to tell us what we’re doing here Shawn?” I asked for about the third time since this journey of his began, which was, surprisingly, an all time minimum for me. Shawn always kept these things to himself until, as he says “the proper moment.” What a load of bull that was.

Yeah, Shawn, seriously; we’re like in the middle of the freaking forest here. Like, what’s the deal?” added Ashley, another teen from my school, but not the brightest of the lot. However, she did have the looks to make up for it. Not that that mattered to me though.

“Look, I told you you’ll find out once we fix up camp out here,” answered Shawn

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with an annoyed yet gleeful expression. It was odd to see this on Shawn, due to his imposing figure and reputation. He was a beast; massive muscles covered his entire body, the great reward for his long hours of football practice. “Besides, it wouldn’t have the same effect if there wasn’t a camp fire burning.”

“This isn’t one of those ghost hunts again is it? I don’t want another repeat of the Mrs. Granderbell incident,” added Eric, a tall boy from behind the group in black garb. He was an odd one, that Eric; never really spoke much, but when he did, he meant it. I’ve never really understood him but nor did anyone else, so it wasn’t as if I was in some outer loop.

However, Eric did have a point. There were times when even Shawn went too far to get his fun in. Recently, he started to pick up this new found obsession for the supernatural and, well, a few months ago, he claimed that old Mrs. Granderbell’s house held the ghost of her husband. He had us break in and try to communicate with the spirit, but not before the cops showed up and stopped his plan before it could hatch. It got all of us in a lot of trouble and certainly none of us wanted another incident like that to happen.

“Yeah, well, that’s a thing of the past now, and I promise you that tonight will make up for all of it…” responded Shawn, quieter than usual as he headed on up the wooded trail with his pack of goods on his back. As he left, I couldn’t help but notice this strange, nagging feeling in the back of my head that something wasn’t right with this picture. Unfortunately, my curiosity for what was in store this evening made me shake it off and follow my friend to the site. If only I had gone back right then and there. Then this whole nightmare would have been avoided.

* * *

It had only been a few hours since we entered the woods and set up camp and yet the light seemed to be diminishing quickly. By the time the campfire was lit it seemed as though those small flames were the only source of light for miles and even those flames seemed feeble in comparison to the vast darkness of the surrounding forest. I couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of our isolation, despite the warmth of the fire.We all sat around, Eric and Ashley to either side of me, looking straight at Shawn, knowing that this was the “right time” for him. As excited as I was to hear what the plan was for tonight, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit apprehensive.

The fire illuminated Shawn in an unnatural glow of light, making the shadows of his face darken into long, thick patches. He looked like a totally different person as he stood up and said, “It’s time.”

“Do any of you know where we are?” he asked, curious to know if any of them knew the story. Though, by their blank faces, he already knew the answer. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t. Just so you know, we are now about one mile or so from what used to be Shady Vale, a small secluded village that never really amounted to anything. However, there was one strange occurrence that happened there…” he said, adding a pause for dramatic effect. “How many of you know the legend of Daniel Crow?”

As he said the name, a deep silence seemed to encompass the clearing. It was as if all of the sounds of nature had ceased; as if it had heard his name and cowered in

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fear. None of us knew what to say, too nervous to disrupt the silence that surrounded us. And all the while, Shawn was smiling.

He continued his story. “Daniel Crow was a quiet kid, a lot like our young Eric here. He didn’t talk much and, in fact, some even believed that he was mute.” Shawn was enjoying the power he seemed to have as spoke each word. “In any case, some people believed that Daniel was rebelling against his parents, but most thought that he just wanted to be left alone. To not be noticed. To slip away.”

“During his junior year of high-school, many people began to notice a change in the kid. His complexion became paler and it seemed as though he was losing touch with the world around him. It wasn’t long before his teachers began to worry and called a conference with him and his parents, the subject of which was common gossip throughout the school.

“To almost every kid at school, it was widely accepted that Daniel was into and actively practiced witchcraft. Not the good kind though… that was one thing that was known for sure; for, you see, Daniel had cut these marks into his skin…”

“Wait… you mean like, with a knife?” asked Ashley, almost half afraid of what the real answer was.

Shawn nodded and grimly added, “And they weren’t any cheery “I heart mom” symbols either. No, this kid was really twisted. Some even said that he was trying to summon a demon.”At this, I couldn’t help myself but laugh. “Seriously Shawn? A demon? Oh come on man, I didn’t think you were that gullible.”

“Yeah, well, that speculation started after the kids went missing,” said Shawn, trying to keep the upper hand in this contest for pride.Surprisingly, it worked; I shut up dead in my tracks and I heard Ashley whimper as she slid farther away from Shawn. I think she felt that the farther away she was from the one telling the story, the less it would affect her. Like that was going to help.

“Yeah, you heard me right. People went missing,” Shawn continued, glad to see the effect that his story had on his friends. “You see, the administrators of the school felt that it would be a good idea for Daniel to go on the school camping trip with the rest of his class. So, on November 6th 1993, four teachers, sixty students, the principal, and Daniel all went into these very woods for the night of their lives. In the morning…none of them came out.”

As if on cue, a cold breeze began to blow through the trees in conjunction with Shawn’s last line; as if the trees were sadly paying respect to those poor souls. If that wasn’t enough to keep me rigid with fear in my seat, Shawn’s next words sure as hell did.

“The whole town set out a search party that morning. But, there was no trace of them. No bodies, no campfires; there weren’t even any footprints. It was as if they were never there.

“They called the cops, who then called the feds, who finally called the National Guard and none of them had an explanation for what happened. Scared of the press, they tried to cover up the whole ordeal by claiming that there was a large forest fire that wiped out most of the village. They relocated the remaining few families to a nearby

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village and that was it. The government toasted themselves on a job well done and left those remaining few to grieve. But that didn’t fix the problem.”

At this, Shawn stood up and looked upward at the now starlit sky. He added distantly, “Some say that those kids really did go into these woods. And that they are still here, trapped, just waiting to be rescued. And…” With a quick jump, he turned around to face us and said, with a brilliant grin, “How many of you actually bought it?”I sat there, stunned by a flood of emotions. Half of me wanted to shout out at Shawn for pulling the wool over my eyes, but the other half wanted to crack up due to embarrassment. Luckily for me, Ashley reacted before I did.

“Oh my God, Shawn! That was not cool! I cannot believe that you did that… Like, oh my God!” Ashley blurted out angrily, a few tears streaming down her face as she stormed off out of the clearing, grabbing the only roll of toilet paper with her in a sad attempt to hide the fact that she was crying.

Shawn began to laugh while Eric and I just sadly watched Ashley have her breakdown. I was about to go after her, but Eric grabbed my arm and shook his head. We both knew that having her know that we saw her cry would only make matters worse for all us. So we both sat back down and stared into the fire, letting Shawn have his moment and waiting for Ashley to come back.

She never did.

* * *We went searching for her as a group within the next few minutes, but we

couldn’t find her. We checked the surrounding woods, a few trials that went outside of the clearing, and even back at the van parked down at the road. There was literally no sign of her. I had no idea what to do.

“I’m telling you, Jack, she probably called her parents to pick her up,” said Shawn, the tremor in his voice giving away his doubt. “She’ll be fine. Come on guys; let’s get back to the campsite.”

As we left the clearing and made our way back to the campsite, I noticed Shawn nervously and repeatedly rummaging his hand around in his pocket. It was odd; I’d never seen Shawn acting rattled before. Maybe he was finally feeling guilty that he had, once again, put his friends in danger.

Eric was acting odd too. Unlike Shawn, who was jumping at every other noise in the woods, Eric was stiff and glared fixedly at Shawn, as though examining him for something.

It couldn’t be a coincidence could it? I mean, honestly; Shawn admitted that the story was fake moments after he ended it. But then again if that were true… then where was Ashley? I tried to reassure myself that Ashley would find her way back. Perhaps even now she was settling down into her sleeping bag.Nothing could have prepared me for what we were about to find at the camp.

* * *As we entered the clearing, my first reaction was to shout. “Ashley! Where the hell have you been, huh? You had us worried si…” I stopped. Something was wrong.I wasn’t the only one who noticed it too. She was there all right, sitting on the log

in front of us. But she wasn’t moving. Not even the slightest twitch or flip of her hair, as she would often do when bored. I don’t even think that she was breathing.

Cautiously, we walked up to her, slowly, dreading every step. We were right

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behind her when Shawn, out of scared frustration, burst out, “Ashley, where the hell did you go?” There was a sickening crack and, in an instant, her head snapped backwards to face us.

The scene was horrifying. Ashley’s once beautiful face was now a pale, sickening white slab; it was as if all her beauty and life had been wiped clean. The worst part where her eyes. They were completely white—no pupils, no retinas; nothing but pale white orbs. And yet, even though her head was upside down to us, we all could tell she was grinning.

“Why, I’ve never left this spot Shawn.” said the corpse of Ashley, in a raspy voice not her own. “And I don’t think that I ever will… Isn’t that right, Daniel?”

As she finished her last statement, her corpse began to dissolve; crumbling into dust that littered the log and the surrounding forest floor. We all jumped backward, afraid of what would happen next, when a boy, in the same sorry condition as Ashley had been moments ago, stepped forward from the trees. The boy looked at for a long moment before finally gesturing to the woods, saying “Won’t you stay with us as well?”

At that… we ran. No, running is not the right word for it. We booked it out of those woods heading straight for the van. We didn’t look back, not once; for fear that if we saw him again, that would be the end of us. When we reached the van, we all dived in and drove the hell out of there, vowing never to speak about what had happened that night. But that didn’t mean that it never happened…

* * *From then on, there has only been one thing that I truly do know. Ashley would

not be the last to follow Daniel Crow.

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LostMeghan N.

According to a famous song“I once was lost but now am found.”But now I’m simply spinningCircles and figure-eights, ‘round and ‘round.

Disoriented and confused,I try to stop and catch my breath.I can’t slow down to keep my head,Can’t catch hold on what is left.

I find myself in a strange place, Everything jumbled and tossed,And I finally see I once was foundBut now I am lost.

Growing UpMeghan N.

We had such fun when we were young,You were different then.Now I don’t know this personThat you’ve become,Staring in the mirror,Right between the eyes.Glaring at my reflectionI see something differentAnd now I realizeI’ve finally outgrown you.

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CourageChris K.

The (wo)manPicks up the(gun/knife/noose)Holds it in (his/her) shaking hand for a Timeless moment thenSets it down.This act occurs A million times a day.

That GirlChristian S.

Never felt this way beforeNever thought I could soarInto outer space. When I see the face of the girlWho knows my mind,The girl who wants me to unwind,The girl who makes me laugh,The girl who makes me haveTo be in love with her,And be that way forever.And we will stayAnd our love will stay.Yeah, that girl.

Masked Catherine V.

His beautiful face hides his most horrible thoughts.

When he dreams, he dreams of blood and fire.

His memories hold in mind a lost time.

And when he dreams, it’s of his most terrible desire.

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The First SnowMeghan N.

Pop!The sound of the fire crackling fills the air, the aroma of smoldering embers accompanied by a slight smokiness filling the room. Outside the window, heavy, wet snowflakes tumble down from the sky. They blanket everything within reach. Telephone wires, cars, lawns, tree limbs, roofs, roads, all sag beneath the blizzard’s handiwork.The entire world is white.Indoors, shadows dance and jump along the walls, moving to an unheard beat, matching the fire step for step, fluid and excitable. Colors shift from orange, to yellow, back and forth, indecisive. A child lies before the fire, his eyes sparkling in amazement. An assortment of soaked clothing is arranged by the fire, boots, mittens, hat, socks, and jacket. The boy inches forward on his belly, the warmth of the fire coaxing him closer. His face is bright red, at first from the cold, now from the heat, his cheeks tingling from the sensation. He squints, burying his face in his arms, the blazing g heat and smoke irritating his eyes. Wind shakes the house on its frame, gusts battering against windows and doorways, slipping through each and every crack it can find. The roaring fire’s heat rides to meet the frigid air in battle, forcing it back. Warmth radiates outward to all corners of the room.In one corner stands a tall Christmas tree, the lights adorning its branches twinkling, glinting and refracting off of ornaments. The green needles are scattered across the floor. A push here, a brush there, a door slamming, sends them flying to all reaches of the room. A few neatly wrapped gifts are resting beneath the lowest branches. Small rips in the paper reveal where tiny hands poked and prodded in curiosity, only to be caught by the keen eyes and ears of Mother or Father.The boy lifts himself from the floor and ambles over to the window, pressing his fingers against the frosted glass. Snow splatters softly against the pane outside, the landscape appearing blurred and smudged. A tired smile spreads across his lips as he breathes on the glass. He brings one little index finger up and traces his name in the fogged pane. As the win d howls again from outside, a woman’s voice calls the boy away from the window. He scurries into the kitchen, remembering the promise of hot chocolate and marshmallows. He props himself up at the counter and blows on the steaming mug. The first snowfall is upon them. Winter has arrived.

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Your Eyes

Katelyn C.I remember the first time we were in loveAnd how we would spend our time.I would look from the window into your eyesAs you drove your beaten-up carListening to the radio play our music.That was enough.

But it was not enoughTo suppress what is to happen to our love.I fear it is going to fade like the musicSince you are going away. If I had more timeI would have kissed you more often; cherished that old carAnd how the winding road reflected in your eyes.

Tears poured out of God’s eyesWhen you told me not to worry. “EnoughOf this foolish crying.” The carSheltered me from the rain but not the thought of lowing my love.The clock on the dashb oard erased another minute of our timeTogether. Another group drove by, blaring music. I wished I could be with them and their music.What I would give to have happiness brighten my eyesAnd allow me to have a good time.Then I stopped to think, that would not be good enough.Although I am imprisoned by my own loveThere is no place I’d rather be than her, with him, in his car. “I don’t want this to end,” I said to the windshield of his car.My heart was beating, the music Within me urging me to continue. “You are my only loveand…” as tear stung my eyes,“…and the distance is not enoughTo keep me from you,” I whispered in time. You looked at your watch to check the timeThen you removed it and threw it in the back of your car.You took my hands and that would have been enoughBut then you sang. You sang our music Into my ear, kissed my cheek, and looked into my eyes.“I would never leave you; you too are my only love.” The night came to a close and there wasn’t enough timeFor me to express the extent of my love as we talked in the car,But it will be okay. When you leave I will listen to our music and think of only your eyes.

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Gabe & JoyceAnonymous

Gabe sits, staring at that glass, as he has every night this week. He's ordered his usual, and he won't be leaving anytime soon. Oh, no, he's just getting started. Guilt and fury drip through his veins; he doesn't know quite what to feel. Joyce wasn't happy again tonight, and like a coward Gabe scampered off to the bar to drink his fill. You're an idiot, he tells himself, and then takes another long, slow sip. He stares off into the abyss of thoughtfulness as he recalls the earlier situation.

* * * "Where are those keys, Gabe?" One eye open, one eye closed, he yawned and replied with a careless, "I don't know, babe." Joyce walked by him, then backed up. She glowered at him for a moment, finally putting a coaster under his coke can on the side table. "What do you mean, you 'don't know, babe?' " She was already off searching in the next room. "What's that supposed to mean?" he questioned, hostile, "I just don't know where they are." "How can you not remember? You were the last one to have them anyway. You just had them!" She was flustered. He was watching the game, and it was getting close. Smith passes! It's a tough shot... but just maybe... hey, whaa--? And the screen went black. Gabe looked to his left to see his woman, beautiful, with the remote in her hand, glaring at him with a look that was... less beautiful. He knew he had done something wrong, but he was still annoyed. "What the hell, J? I don't know where the damn keys are, I told you that, okay?" He sat upright on the couch. Her scathing expression made his tone slip, and his voice cracked on the last word. "Not again," she whispered. "Not tonight." They shared a stare. A streak of electricity shot through them. A strong bond they had, indeed. But lately, something was getting in the way of that. Was it his immaturity? Her order? Who knows? What they did know was that something was hindering their passion for each other. It wasn't just the keys. And it didn’t seem to be getting any better. As the moment broke, Joyce turned to leave the room, shaking her head. Feeling obligated and apologetic, Gabe pursued her to the kitchen. When he got to the pristine room, she was facing the cabinets, her back towards him. Her hands leaned on the counter, all her weight depending on it. She took a deep and stuttered breath, as if she was ready to break down. He stood a few feet from her, not knowing how to handle the situation. "Look..." he started. When she let out a short sob, he was right there by her side. He wrapped his arms around her waist and he began, "I'm sorry, baby, I just …" But when he'd got close to her, her muscles had tensed. She winced away from him, something he'd never seen her do before. Not like that. His chin hovered above her left shoulder. She took another deep breath, steadying herself, and turned her head to the right and spoke, uneasily still, "I think you should leave, Gabriel. Now." And it was silent. Gabe started to say something, but figured he'd make it all worse. He tried to give her a kiss on the cheek, but she wouldn't turn her face to him. After what felt like an eternity to both, he slowly disentwined his arms from her, and he could swear he saw her body relax the slightest bit. Her eyes searched for something that wasn't there, and she ran a hand

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through her hair, without thinking, the way he'd always loved her to. She immediately regretted it, but he felt the same way he always had. How badly he just wanted to run his own fingers through her golden-brown hair. Knowing he couldn't, knowing it would make her angry or upset, killed him inside. He backed away, never breaking his admiring and confused gaze at the back of her body. He hadn't meant for this to happen, not at all. Feeling lost in the world, he took him towards the closet to grab his coat and then out the door. Down the stairs, into a taxi, and before he knew it, he was sitting at the bar.

* * * Gabe returns from his reverie, if only partly. He glances around. There are only two or three people left in the room, and it's starting to get chilly, so he sticks both of his hands into his pockets. Then his face droops. As his hand comes slowly out of his pocket, it holds something hard and cold. Those damn car keys. In his pocket The whole time. He stares at the keys with disbelief for a minute straight and then flings them on the ground. People behind him turn to look as the metal makes a loud ca-junk sound on the hard wood floor. He pushes his beer away, spilling a drop or two on the counter in front of him and puts his head down in his arms. He squeezes his eyes shut; father always said big boys don't cry. With his head still down, he then opens his eyes to squint at what seems to be the cause of all his problems lately. But he knows inside that the keys have nothing to do with it. They simply symbolize so much more for the two of them.

* * * As the clean house is filtered by the black darkness of night, Joyce lies in fetal position on top of the covers of the bed. The bed that it she's always shared with him up until this week. She lies, sobbing, and wonders where he is and what he's doing. He could be anywhere, she thinks, and then can't bear to think further about it. This is such a mess, she blames herself, is it all my fault? In truth, they are both to blame. She sees his beautiful face in her mind and uncontrollably wracks her memories for the moment he said "I do." Did they make a mistake, getting married so young? No one had ever questioned it. They were soul-mates. The "together forever" types. Has that all changed? How could they have wasted it? How could they have handled it better? Joyce lets out a long, painful sigh. Now overcome by darkness, the room looks almost alien, and feels that way, too. She hugs her arms around her stomach. It feels different. Reluctantly, she thinks about the life growing and changing inside her; she hasn't even told him yet. She hasn't told anyone yet. It is a secret within herself, but she can't bear it any longer. It feels like it is going to tear her from the inside out. She is scared out of her mind, and has nowhere to turn to. "Damn,” she lets out, in a breathy whisper. Overcome by emotion, Joyce is shaking. She is frightened to witness herself in this condition, this state of utter despair, something she's never felt. The young woman is in the worst place of her life... during a time that should be her happiest. It should be filled with endless hours of name-searching and baby showers, pastel colors and stuffed zoo animals, doctor visits and anxious happiness in preparation for a new family member. On the contrary, this is not how Joyce feels in the slightest. She wants to break something, rip Gabe's hair our, breath in the smell of his skin, break his arms, taste his warmth. The mosaic of feelings tears her apart inside, black rivers streaming down her cheeks. If he could only see me now, she thinks. He might declare her a nutcase and leave her fore---; No, I mustn't think of that. But, in reality, Joyce knows Gabe would do nothing but comfort her, kiss her face, sing her a sweet lullaby, and stay with her there for all eternity. Broken, the young woman searches for an outlet, something to convey her anger, to let it out in one

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fluid movement. Finding nothing quite pleasing enough, she grabs a nearby shirt and launches it across the room with all her might. It hits a picture frame on the wall which then falls and smashes on the floor. The action proves to be less pleasant than she'd first thought. For the first time in a long time, Joyce lets out a scream at the top of her lungs. It lowers to a wail, and then to a sort of whimper, boiling down entirely toward a sob. The shriek caused a bit of commotion outside, Joyce hears a dog howl in the distance. "Damn, girl, you're falling apart," she closes her eyes and weeps silently until slumber takes over.

* * * "We're gonna be closin' up soon, son," a scratchy voice with a southern drawl calls to Gabe. Gabe looks around, he is the only one left in the room, "Yeah, okay." He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. The southern man is wiping down the bar with a wet hand towel. He is older, probably in his late fifties, Gabe suspects. The man has brown and grey whiskers along his jaw. He finally stops, and looks up at Gabe. "You got lady troubles, boy?" This assumption startles Gabe. The bar man's bushy eyebrows are raised. "Ah, I don't need to be bothering you with my problems, sir," he laughs pathetically. "Don't be thinkin' I ain't been noticing you here this week," he continues to tidy up. Gabe doesn't know quite how to respond. He stretches his arms and looks at his watch, 10:55. Closing is at 11:00. He forgets about his discomfort when the old man turns to look him in the eye."I knew it from the moment you walked into this here establishment. The look on your face made it easy. I've had plenty of troubles in my day; me and my Nancy went through tough times just like anyone else. But now we got four beautiful kids, our pride and joy; ‘course they're all grown up now... I loved my woman since the moment I met her. Just knew she was the one for me, and planned to spend the rest of my life with her. Still do!" He yanks the sleeve of his shirt up toward his shoulder, revealing a tattoo pertaining to the love he and his wife share. It is deeply set into his skin, showing that it has been there for a long while. The old man looks at it proudly and hides it away again. "Look, I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life, alrighty? That ain't my place. But all I ask is that you don't do somethin' you're gonna regret. Workin' in a bar you see plenty of real sad stuff go down. You seem like a nice kid. Smart, too. Don't prove me wrong." And he goes back to rinsing cups. Gabe on the other hand, is in awe of the man. He seems like one of those people who is smarter than others give him credit for. Confused, he glances at his watch again: 11:05. He rubs his eyes and shakes his head, as if to clear it. His fingers reach for the (now room-temperature) beer. They bring it to his lips, but they do not move further. Gabe closes his lips and puts the glass back on the bar counter.

"Atta' boy," Gabe didn't know the bar man had been watching him. Slapping an unnecessary twenty on the wood next to his drink, Gabriel utters an informal ''thank you'' and quickly steps towards his escape. "Don't do anything stupid!" the old man bellows in that husky voice of his. In the doorway, Gabe turns back to face the man, who gives him a confident wink of his left eye and goes back to his work. With mixed emotions, Gabe takes his first step out into the dark, cold, windy night to search for himself.

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SestinaRyan H. In a world plagued by war,people manage to find peacein all things, and while some let haterule their lives, others find love.Their weeping faces in deathreflect their reluctance to depart from life. The Earth feels the impact of life, however, war is still war.Green forests and sparkling cities overtake death.Some say people are fighting for peace.There is constant growth, while feelings of lovecombat the feelings of hate.

Those consumed by hatefail to see the point in life.They disregard the idea that lovecan heal all wounds, the wounds of war. They stifle their fears inside their chest, not allowing peaceto fill their hearts until the moment of their death. And only until upon them is deathand they reflect up on their feelings of hate,until they realize that peaceis the only way to fulfill one’s life.They realize they lost their personal warwith hate, forgetting how to love.

We need to live with love,needing only this before death.Love can cure even the worst war and the malicious hate.For this is fulfilling our livesand sheltering our hearts with peace. Spread your hands and preach peace.Tell your diverse neighbors to love.Tell them to not sacrifice their livesand condemn their souls to deathby holding their hateand starting frequent wars. Live your lives in touch with peace.Do not let war quell your love.For only hate leads to death.

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The RandomKrista D. God bless the random.I give thanks for obscure patternsof capitalization and rhythm forall to behold and love.I admire the ease with which randomness happens. When it happens,I get lost in the overwhelming random,like a spell cast by a witch.I find security in it like a sporadically patterned quilt, warm with love.This is the random that I have concern for. This is the random that I burn for.You barely even realize that it’s happened,and you’ve fallen in love.Because love is random.So many try to choose between fate or a patternto the love, but they can’t decide which. I value the random whichswims around in the air forhours, weaving beautifully unplanned patternsuntil it finds a notion to happen,at which point it will fall, at random,into its niche in time, forever beloved. To both friends and lover, the everyday wonders, whichare apt to capture their joy, are known best as random.Experiences such as letter magnets forthe refrigerator tumbling down, when they happento fall into configuration, forming the word “pattern”. Although it is alluring, never search for patternsto the random or to love.You may just so happento find yourself draw useless trails whichwind in endless webs of confusion formiles. In the end you’ll find there is no order to the random. It just happens, without patterns.The best thing about the random, the thing that’s most to love,is its lack of pattern, which is what I yearn for.

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Beatrix Potterwww.doverimages.com