Agent Bean
by Lindzi Perino
Agent Bean launched herself from the top of the fridge to the island that sat in the middle of the kitchen. The dim light shining from the oven made her gray and black fur shine. Despite her small stature she always remained graceful. Bean had one job, one goal, and only one opportunity to fulfill it. As the newest graduate from the Cat Intelligence Agency or CIA, as it is commonly called, she had a point to prove. Small and mighty, She always gave 110 percent.
Her mortal enemy lay peacefully and obviously asleep not far from where she stood. She continued her journey onward. Her tiny paws landed with soft thuds with every step. Thump thump…thump thump. She slid behind the basket stuffed with toys that were stacked high, sure she couldn't be seen by anyone. Bean's piercing golden eyes stared deeply into the living room before bolting left and right making sure she was thoroughly hidden. She continued her rapid glances only to be stopped by something in the distance. No. It couldn't be. A mouse. Bean dove under the dining table without a second thought. She had another mission at hand, to eliminate the entire rodent population. A grumble from the living room snapped her back to her main (and more possible goal). She backed away from her prey only to realize it wouldn't have helped her achieve her goal anyway. The mouse she aimed to destroy was nothing but a toy. Filled with stuffing and the most appealing catnip. It was moments like this that made her realize, she may be an agent, but she was also a cat.
Bean leaped to the nearby bookcase. She looked around the corner, eyes locked onto her target. Her target being a brindle pitbull known as Mr. Beefy. Since the day Bean moved in, only a mere eight months ago, that mutt had made her life dramatically worse. He was loud and hyper, always running around as if he only had less than half a brain cell. Bean resented Mr. Beefy. She scouted out the area, planning her next strategic move. She swiftly jumped to the basket holding the blankets, to the couch, until finally she landed on the coffee table. The coffee table was only a few feet from her rival. Agent Bean's mission…was it finally going to come to an end? After eight awful months…could it all be over? Bean took the final leap, hopeful thoughts filling her head. Yet, she never made it to the couch. Turns out, even after mastering her high leaps in her lengthy ten months on this earth, she still manages to fall short from time to time.
She stumbled up after regaining herself. Still dazed Bean heard a sound she feared. Loud, high-pitched barking. It wasn't from the older male dog who she was destined to take down but rather from the newest creature brought into her area. A gargantuan, slobbery, Saint Bernard puppy. Though she was apparently named Betty, she struck fear into Bean. Even the hardest of agents would cower in fear. Only being three months old she already weighed twenty-five pounds with paws bigger than Agent Bean's entire head. Betty came galloping in, her brown and white ears that were too big for her head flipping up and down. Much like Bean's mission, it seemed as though Betty was on a quest. A quest to make the agent terrified and she was succeeding. The clumsy dog slid to a stop, or at least tried to. Betty tended to act like she didn't know how to control herself. She tried to stop but slid a few inches more than she estimated. Betty never hurt Agent Bean but she used manipulation as an art form. Everyone loved her. Dressing her in pink frilly clothes, holding her as if she were a newborn baby, the list goes on and on. But Bean knew. Agent Bean always knew the truth.
Betty lowered her front half down to the ground but kept the other half up. Her tail going annoyingly fast, and her bark was shrill and loud. Agent Bean grieved her failed mission. But as the dog kept wagging and barking, the experienced agent had a plan. Or realistically speaking, one last hope. Bean had never stood up to Betty before. She always felt such fear ever since the first few weeks of them existing a little too close for comfort. Betty was what people called "playful", and she acted like it. This was demonstrated when Betty tried to lift Bean. Bean took it as an insult. Just because she was below average in size didn't mean everyone could just pick her up. Bean locked eyes with the giant beast that towered over her. She gathered all her might and swung. Four quick hits, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM!! She knew better than to use her claws. She only made the mistake once with the retired CIA agent that had been living here a lot longer than her. She learned her lesson with that.
Betty backed away, a mix of shock and betrayal written on her face. She ran away in her normal, uncoordinated way. Agent Bean felt pride seeing Betty run back to the kitchen where everyone else was standing. Now, finally, nothing stood in her way.
Bean turned and locked her claws in the soft fabric of the couch. She slowly and steadily climbed up the furniture. She reached the top, her whiskers billowing from the monster's breath steadily blowing in and out of his oversized snout. Bean took her chance, still full of adrenaline from her previous attack. She smacked Mr. Beefy. Once, BAM! Twice, BAM! Five times, BAM, BAM, Bam! She switched between paws, ducking and weaving to avoid any retaliation. The dog looked up, sleepily and dazed from his nap. He seemed unfazed, he had gotten used to it by now. He picked up his paw and dropped it on the Agent's head, knocking her from her position of power. Bean landed on the carpet looking up at the mutt once again. Her adrenaline turned to disappointment. But it didn't last long. She heard the familiar sound of her food bag rustling. She always loved that sound, but the taste even more. Her failed task fell out of her mind as she began to dart to her food dish. Agent Bean devoured her, well-deserved, consolation feast. That's when instead of Agent Bean, The destroyer of mice and beasts, she became Bean, the normal, rather small, house cat. Though like an arrow, she must go backward before flying forward, this is not the end for Agent Bean. It is merely a sabbatical, for her to calculate her next move.
Butterflies
by Emma Lang
Beautiful, Colorful, Emotionless
Just as the ones I when you call my name
Even when you walk past me, The colors
become more vibrant than ever and begin
to flutter their wings uncontrollably
Sometimes I catch them in my throat
The words won't ever come out nor,
with the butterflies
They trap my words as if I have no longer given
the right to speak or breathe.
But then you leave, and so do the butterflies.
They still leave me scars, but those scars are
Beautiful, Colorful, Emotionless
as the ones you left behind.
Clouds
by Mia Ingram
They shift and sway
Thin and wide
Across the void
Of empty sky
They make misty mountains mighty Sunrises full of hope
See what you want to see
Imagination is all you need Often seen in droopy gray
Or in waves of cotton
Making harsh rain lighten
In the end
They aren't sad wisps of gray Blocking the void of blue
But as hope and glory
For life and all its memories
Currents
by Aubrun Vaught
The house felt empty even though my family was home. Even if the family was just my sister and my dad. My footsteps echoed through the hallway as I crept my way into the kitchen. It was still dark outside, the sun barely rising. But the bit of sunset that was happening was gorgeous. Yet somehow it still felt dull as I came into the kitchen doorway. The usual morning chaos of my mom making scrambled eggs and my sister trying to help was gone, as it had been for a while. My sister, Eden, was sitting on the counter, eating a Pop-Tart. The whole scene was just plain sad, but I didn't have time for breakfast anyways.
I had to race out the door to catch the bus. I fell asleep on the ride there and nearly tripped a kid getting off. I was instantly in a hurry to find my friend, Jonathan. He wasn't hard to find, as he stuck out like a sore thumb. His hair was platinum blonde but obviously dyed. His jean jacket was frayed from use, but it was hard to miss due to the ironed-on patches of various bands he liked. He always wore a pair of long jean shorts, no matter the weather.
We were polar opposites. My hair was long too, but it was choppy as I'd had to cut it myself. It was light brown with a single blue streak in it. I did that as a way to be 'rebellious,' but it ended up making me look stupid. I liked to wear T-shirts and long straight-legged jeans. He was barely surprised when I walked straight up to him and sat down. We stayed like that, in comfortable silence, before it started to get awkward. Jonathan broke the ice first.
"Hey, River, how's your mom doing?" I froze, and he continued. "You haven't talked about her in a while."
And that was for a reason. I didn't like talking about my mom. Last year, in February, she was diagnosed with cancer. I was about twelve then. As she got worse, so did our moods. She'd been in the hospital for a while now, and we visited her twice a week, and if we wanted to, more. My dad didn't have custody of us, since my mom had gotten both my and my sister when they divorced, but we'd been staying with him since my mom was in the hospital. I wasn't sure about the legal stuff, but we were supposed to stay with my Aunt Catherine for a while after she passed. The adults were the ones worrying about what happened to us. I almost forgot Jonathan was waiting on my response.
"We don't know exactly what's wrong," I said quietly, "but I heard my dad saying it's unlikely she will make it." I wanted to kick something. Who was my dad to say she wasn't going to live?! My mom was strong. She wasn't going to lose this battle.
"Oh," Jonathan tried to figure out what he should say. I just got up and started my way to class, expecting him to follow, which he did.
All of my classes that day were boring, save for art class. He let us free-draw today, which saved me from having to actually use my brain. Mostly. Plus it was the only class I shared with Jonathan, which was helpful since I wanted to talk to him. I asked him if he wanted to hang out in the creek behind my dad's house with our friends Daniel and Heather.
"Sure," he shrugged.
After school, I barely got my shoes off before Heather was running through the door at me. Daniel came in right after her, with a small picnic basket for all of us. Daniel was the oldest, at fourteen years and three months. His hair was a deep ginger color, almost brownish in the right lighting. It fell in thick curls around his chin, with short wispy bangs. He was hard to miss with bright blue eyes. He was deathly pale, freckles littered around his face and arms.
Heather was his total opposite, and she was his half-sister. She was eleven, with dark, braided hair. Her skin was dark, and her eyes were nearly black, yet unique, as she was missing part of her pupil. She'd been like that since birth.
We stayed outside for hours. A frog jumped into Heather's hair, and it took twenty minutes to get it out. She wasn't happy. At around 8:55 PM, it got dark and my dad came home. Everyone left, except for Daniel. He was with me when my dad got the call from Aunt Catherine. Mom had passed away in her sleep.
I didn't cry often, or ever really, but I cried then. Daniel let me sob into his shoulder. He was supposed to go home, but he didn't want to leave me there upset. He called his mom to let her know he was staying. Eden was staying at a friend's house. Dad called the girl's mom and gave her the news. I don't know what happened after, but Dad said he was gonna go pick up Eden. I barely nodded in response. I turned on the tv for me and Daniel. We both (mostly me, he just agreed to it.) I decided to watch Sleeping Beauty. We both got invested in it, even though we were both sad. I don't remember when we fell asleep, but I woke up the next morning laying on his shoulder. My neck hurt a lot. Eden was on the end of the couch, huddled in a blanket.
Later that day, we got a funeral date. It was the following Saturday. My dad was gonna let us stay home from school for a few days. My friends all came to the funeral, and they asked me if I wanted to say something dedicated to my mom. I did, but I didn't know what to say, so I didn't. The days after that were sort of depressing, but I went back to school and it was overwhelming. Apparently, everyone knew about my mom and that's all they wanted to talk about. It was terrible. I ended up staying with my dad. I don't know much about going to court, but in the end, he was able to "prove" he was stable enough to have full custody of me and Eden. So we stayed with him.
I started to hang out with Daniel more, and we went everywhere together. Jonathan and I kept in touch, but he ended up getting a girlfriend and he liked talking to her more. I didn't mind.
Almost exactly a month after my mom's death, I turned fourteen. We had a small get-together at my dad's house, and I got a new CD player from Daniel. Eventually, it was summer, and the waterpark by my house opened. We went there every weekend with Jonathan and his girlfriend, Aela. After summer ended, Eden started middle school, and I started ninth grade. High school wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I met some new people, including this girl named Carrie. Her parents owned a record store, so we started to hang out there on weekends. She introduced me to some new bands, and I started bringing Daniel along with me. I got my ears pierced, and my hair finally faded out.
Maybe my life wasn't perfect, but I felt at peace for the first time in the past two years.
Daydreams
by Mia Ingram
Have you ever wanted to just spend hours daydreaming? Well, that's basically me. It's a cloudy morning, as usual. But in my mind, the clouds just give the sky some personality. It's also very cold, did I mention that? Since I walk to school, the crisp air and buzzing traffic give me time to wake up a little more from sleep. The sunrise is perfect this morning. I can so easily see the golden hues of the sun shining over the dark mountains. I imagine myself slowly rising in the air above the earth and floating up and up until I can touch the clouds. Kinda like in the movie, Peter Pan, where all the kids fly into the horizon towards the north star. I smile to myself as I walk into the school. It would be great if humans could fly….
By the time third period arrived, my head was already somewhere else. I can tell my teacher notices because she keeps glancing in my direction and tapping my desk when she walks by. In my defense, battling zombies with Slim-Jims and pencils is much more entertaining than taking notes on circumference and pi. I eventually do try to pay attention though, since the test is this Friday. At the end of class, my friend, Avery, runs over.
“Page, did you hear that we have an assembly in 6th period?”
I shake my head, “No, what for?”
She smiles, “I heard that they’re starting a new program for kids to deal with stress.”
“That's great!” I gush.
As we part ways to our next class, I grab my book from my locker. It was about three different characters who live in a perfect world, but are swept into a room full of their city's secrets and why no one above fifty can stay or enter the city. All sixteen-year-olds disappear for two years and no one knows why nor can they ask. It drives me insane to know that these kids will turn sixteen in three weeks! I stare at the book in wonder. If I were them, I would search that room for evidence or information about where they go and what happens to them.
I wish I could say that I spent the next two periods focusing on my work and paying attention, but that would be a lie. My thoughts are filled with the book and how their actions will be punished by the council. I sigh to myself. I've always wanted to be a writer. So I wonder if this is how writers form their fictional stories. By having a dream or daydream and building off of it.
A small smile forms on my face. I guess I won't stop daydreaming for a while then.
Old
by Emma Lang
I remember loving my birthdays. I always looked forward to them and always will. The thought of being a grown-up amused me. Until thirteen. I remember being nine wishing I was thirteen, and now I'm wishing I was nine, at thirteen. I don't want to grow old, there are so many things I haven't done. But that wish I made for ten years of my life, came true. I'm finally growing old. Thirteen isn't old to some eighteen-year-olds, but to nine-year-olds, that's old. I want to be playing in the sand, not a worry in the world. Unlike now, schoolwork, emotions, and so much more than when I was nine. My one wish now, is to never grow up again.
For Never Was a Story of More Woe
by Londyn Runk
One day, two lovers met
The man was praised and never got attacked
Meanwhile, the girl was heavily oppressed
Although they loved each other, the pair could never be together
Why, you ask?
All because of the color of their skin
Society proposed that they were too different and should only date people their skin tone
But they didn’t listen
Because of this, the girl would soon pass away and the boy would be forced to move on
Their names?
Romeo and Juliet
by Lindzi Perino
Agent Bean launched herself from the top of the fridge to the island that sat in the middle of the kitchen. The dim light shining from the oven made her gray and black fur shine. Despite her small stature she always remained graceful. Bean had one job, one goal, and only one opportunity to fulfill it. As the newest graduate from the Cat Intelligence Agency or CIA, as it is commonly called, she had a point to prove. Small and mighty, She always gave 110 percent.
Her mortal enemy lay peacefully and obviously asleep not far from where she stood. She continued her journey onward. Her tiny paws landed with soft thuds with every step. Thump thump…thump thump. She slid behind the basket stuffed with toys that were stacked high, sure she couldn't be seen by anyone. Bean's piercing golden eyes stared deeply into the living room before bolting left and right making sure she was thoroughly hidden. She continued her rapid glances only to be stopped by something in the distance. No. It couldn't be. A mouse. Bean dove under the dining table without a second thought. She had another mission at hand, to eliminate the entire rodent population. A grumble from the living room snapped her back to her main (and more possible goal). She backed away from her prey only to realize it wouldn't have helped her achieve her goal anyway. The mouse she aimed to destroy was nothing but a toy. Filled with stuffing and the most appealing catnip. It was moments like this that made her realize, she may be an agent, but she was also a cat.
Bean leaped to the nearby bookcase. She looked around the corner, eyes locked onto her target. Her target being a brindle pitbull known as Mr. Beefy. Since the day Bean moved in, only a mere eight months ago, that mutt had made her life dramatically worse. He was loud and hyper, always running around as if he only had less than half a brain cell. Bean resented Mr. Beefy. She scouted out the area, planning her next strategic move. She swiftly jumped to the basket holding the blankets, to the couch, until finally she landed on the coffee table. The coffee table was only a few feet from her rival. Agent Bean's mission…was it finally going to come to an end? After eight awful months…could it all be over? Bean took the final leap, hopeful thoughts filling her head. Yet, she never made it to the couch. Turns out, even after mastering her high leaps in her lengthy ten months on this earth, she still manages to fall short from time to time.
She stumbled up after regaining herself. Still dazed Bean heard a sound she feared. Loud, high-pitched barking. It wasn't from the older male dog who she was destined to take down but rather from the newest creature brought into her area. A gargantuan, slobbery, Saint Bernard puppy. Though she was apparently named Betty, she struck fear into Bean. Even the hardest of agents would cower in fear. Only being three months old she already weighed twenty-five pounds with paws bigger than Agent Bean's entire head. Betty came galloping in, her brown and white ears that were too big for her head flipping up and down. Much like Bean's mission, it seemed as though Betty was on a quest. A quest to make the agent terrified and she was succeeding. The clumsy dog slid to a stop, or at least tried to. Betty tended to act like she didn't know how to control herself. She tried to stop but slid a few inches more than she estimated. Betty never hurt Agent Bean but she used manipulation as an art form. Everyone loved her. Dressing her in pink frilly clothes, holding her as if she were a newborn baby, the list goes on and on. But Bean knew. Agent Bean always knew the truth.
Betty lowered her front half down to the ground but kept the other half up. Her tail going annoyingly fast, and her bark was shrill and loud. Agent Bean grieved her failed mission. But as the dog kept wagging and barking, the experienced agent had a plan. Or realistically speaking, one last hope. Bean had never stood up to Betty before. She always felt such fear ever since the first few weeks of them existing a little too close for comfort. Betty was what people called "playful", and she acted like it. This was demonstrated when Betty tried to lift Bean. Bean took it as an insult. Just because she was below average in size didn't mean everyone could just pick her up. Bean locked eyes with the giant beast that towered over her. She gathered all her might and swung. Four quick hits, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM!! She knew better than to use her claws. She only made the mistake once with the retired CIA agent that had been living here a lot longer than her. She learned her lesson with that.
Betty backed away, a mix of shock and betrayal written on her face. She ran away in her normal, uncoordinated way. Agent Bean felt pride seeing Betty run back to the kitchen where everyone else was standing. Now, finally, nothing stood in her way.
Bean turned and locked her claws in the soft fabric of the couch. She slowly and steadily climbed up the furniture. She reached the top, her whiskers billowing from the monster's breath steadily blowing in and out of his oversized snout. Bean took her chance, still full of adrenaline from her previous attack. She smacked Mr. Beefy. Once, BAM! Twice, BAM! Five times, BAM, BAM, Bam! She switched between paws, ducking and weaving to avoid any retaliation. The dog looked up, sleepily and dazed from his nap. He seemed unfazed, he had gotten used to it by now. He picked up his paw and dropped it on the Agent's head, knocking her from her position of power. Bean landed on the carpet looking up at the mutt once again. Her adrenaline turned to disappointment. But it didn't last long. She heard the familiar sound of her food bag rustling. She always loved that sound, but the taste even more. Her failed task fell out of her mind as she began to dart to her food dish. Agent Bean devoured her, well-deserved, consolation feast. That's when instead of Agent Bean, The destroyer of mice and beasts, she became Bean, the normal, rather small, house cat. Though like an arrow, she must go backward before flying forward, this is not the end for Agent Bean. It is merely a sabbatical, for her to calculate her next move.
Butterflies
by Emma Lang
Beautiful, Colorful, Emotionless
Just as the ones I when you call my name
Even when you walk past me, The colors
become more vibrant than ever and begin
to flutter their wings uncontrollably
Sometimes I catch them in my throat
The words won't ever come out nor,
with the butterflies
They trap my words as if I have no longer given
the right to speak or breathe.
But then you leave, and so do the butterflies.
They still leave me scars, but those scars are
Beautiful, Colorful, Emotionless
as the ones you left behind.
Clouds
by Mia Ingram
They shift and sway
Thin and wide
Across the void
Of empty sky
They make misty mountains mighty Sunrises full of hope
See what you want to see
Imagination is all you need Often seen in droopy gray
Or in waves of cotton
Making harsh rain lighten
In the end
They aren't sad wisps of gray Blocking the void of blue
But as hope and glory
For life and all its memories
Currents
by Aubrun Vaught
The house felt empty even though my family was home. Even if the family was just my sister and my dad. My footsteps echoed through the hallway as I crept my way into the kitchen. It was still dark outside, the sun barely rising. But the bit of sunset that was happening was gorgeous. Yet somehow it still felt dull as I came into the kitchen doorway. The usual morning chaos of my mom making scrambled eggs and my sister trying to help was gone, as it had been for a while. My sister, Eden, was sitting on the counter, eating a Pop-Tart. The whole scene was just plain sad, but I didn't have time for breakfast anyways.
I had to race out the door to catch the bus. I fell asleep on the ride there and nearly tripped a kid getting off. I was instantly in a hurry to find my friend, Jonathan. He wasn't hard to find, as he stuck out like a sore thumb. His hair was platinum blonde but obviously dyed. His jean jacket was frayed from use, but it was hard to miss due to the ironed-on patches of various bands he liked. He always wore a pair of long jean shorts, no matter the weather.
We were polar opposites. My hair was long too, but it was choppy as I'd had to cut it myself. It was light brown with a single blue streak in it. I did that as a way to be 'rebellious,' but it ended up making me look stupid. I liked to wear T-shirts and long straight-legged jeans. He was barely surprised when I walked straight up to him and sat down. We stayed like that, in comfortable silence, before it started to get awkward. Jonathan broke the ice first.
"Hey, River, how's your mom doing?" I froze, and he continued. "You haven't talked about her in a while."
And that was for a reason. I didn't like talking about my mom. Last year, in February, she was diagnosed with cancer. I was about twelve then. As she got worse, so did our moods. She'd been in the hospital for a while now, and we visited her twice a week, and if we wanted to, more. My dad didn't have custody of us, since my mom had gotten both my and my sister when they divorced, but we'd been staying with him since my mom was in the hospital. I wasn't sure about the legal stuff, but we were supposed to stay with my Aunt Catherine for a while after she passed. The adults were the ones worrying about what happened to us. I almost forgot Jonathan was waiting on my response.
"We don't know exactly what's wrong," I said quietly, "but I heard my dad saying it's unlikely she will make it." I wanted to kick something. Who was my dad to say she wasn't going to live?! My mom was strong. She wasn't going to lose this battle.
"Oh," Jonathan tried to figure out what he should say. I just got up and started my way to class, expecting him to follow, which he did.
All of my classes that day were boring, save for art class. He let us free-draw today, which saved me from having to actually use my brain. Mostly. Plus it was the only class I shared with Jonathan, which was helpful since I wanted to talk to him. I asked him if he wanted to hang out in the creek behind my dad's house with our friends Daniel and Heather.
"Sure," he shrugged.
After school, I barely got my shoes off before Heather was running through the door at me. Daniel came in right after her, with a small picnic basket for all of us. Daniel was the oldest, at fourteen years and three months. His hair was a deep ginger color, almost brownish in the right lighting. It fell in thick curls around his chin, with short wispy bangs. He was hard to miss with bright blue eyes. He was deathly pale, freckles littered around his face and arms.
Heather was his total opposite, and she was his half-sister. She was eleven, with dark, braided hair. Her skin was dark, and her eyes were nearly black, yet unique, as she was missing part of her pupil. She'd been like that since birth.
We stayed outside for hours. A frog jumped into Heather's hair, and it took twenty minutes to get it out. She wasn't happy. At around 8:55 PM, it got dark and my dad came home. Everyone left, except for Daniel. He was with me when my dad got the call from Aunt Catherine. Mom had passed away in her sleep.
I didn't cry often, or ever really, but I cried then. Daniel let me sob into his shoulder. He was supposed to go home, but he didn't want to leave me there upset. He called his mom to let her know he was staying. Eden was staying at a friend's house. Dad called the girl's mom and gave her the news. I don't know what happened after, but Dad said he was gonna go pick up Eden. I barely nodded in response. I turned on the tv for me and Daniel. We both (mostly me, he just agreed to it.) I decided to watch Sleeping Beauty. We both got invested in it, even though we were both sad. I don't remember when we fell asleep, but I woke up the next morning laying on his shoulder. My neck hurt a lot. Eden was on the end of the couch, huddled in a blanket.
Later that day, we got a funeral date. It was the following Saturday. My dad was gonna let us stay home from school for a few days. My friends all came to the funeral, and they asked me if I wanted to say something dedicated to my mom. I did, but I didn't know what to say, so I didn't. The days after that were sort of depressing, but I went back to school and it was overwhelming. Apparently, everyone knew about my mom and that's all they wanted to talk about. It was terrible. I ended up staying with my dad. I don't know much about going to court, but in the end, he was able to "prove" he was stable enough to have full custody of me and Eden. So we stayed with him.
I started to hang out with Daniel more, and we went everywhere together. Jonathan and I kept in touch, but he ended up getting a girlfriend and he liked talking to her more. I didn't mind.
Almost exactly a month after my mom's death, I turned fourteen. We had a small get-together at my dad's house, and I got a new CD player from Daniel. Eventually, it was summer, and the waterpark by my house opened. We went there every weekend with Jonathan and his girlfriend, Aela. After summer ended, Eden started middle school, and I started ninth grade. High school wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I met some new people, including this girl named Carrie. Her parents owned a record store, so we started to hang out there on weekends. She introduced me to some new bands, and I started bringing Daniel along with me. I got my ears pierced, and my hair finally faded out.
Maybe my life wasn't perfect, but I felt at peace for the first time in the past two years.
Daydreams
by Mia Ingram
Have you ever wanted to just spend hours daydreaming? Well, that's basically me. It's a cloudy morning, as usual. But in my mind, the clouds just give the sky some personality. It's also very cold, did I mention that? Since I walk to school, the crisp air and buzzing traffic give me time to wake up a little more from sleep. The sunrise is perfect this morning. I can so easily see the golden hues of the sun shining over the dark mountains. I imagine myself slowly rising in the air above the earth and floating up and up until I can touch the clouds. Kinda like in the movie, Peter Pan, where all the kids fly into the horizon towards the north star. I smile to myself as I walk into the school. It would be great if humans could fly….
By the time third period arrived, my head was already somewhere else. I can tell my teacher notices because she keeps glancing in my direction and tapping my desk when she walks by. In my defense, battling zombies with Slim-Jims and pencils is much more entertaining than taking notes on circumference and pi. I eventually do try to pay attention though, since the test is this Friday. At the end of class, my friend, Avery, runs over.
“Page, did you hear that we have an assembly in 6th period?”
I shake my head, “No, what for?”
She smiles, “I heard that they’re starting a new program for kids to deal with stress.”
“That's great!” I gush.
As we part ways to our next class, I grab my book from my locker. It was about three different characters who live in a perfect world, but are swept into a room full of their city's secrets and why no one above fifty can stay or enter the city. All sixteen-year-olds disappear for two years and no one knows why nor can they ask. It drives me insane to know that these kids will turn sixteen in three weeks! I stare at the book in wonder. If I were them, I would search that room for evidence or information about where they go and what happens to them.
I wish I could say that I spent the next two periods focusing on my work and paying attention, but that would be a lie. My thoughts are filled with the book and how their actions will be punished by the council. I sigh to myself. I've always wanted to be a writer. So I wonder if this is how writers form their fictional stories. By having a dream or daydream and building off of it.
A small smile forms on my face. I guess I won't stop daydreaming for a while then.
Old
by Emma Lang
I remember loving my birthdays. I always looked forward to them and always will. The thought of being a grown-up amused me. Until thirteen. I remember being nine wishing I was thirteen, and now I'm wishing I was nine, at thirteen. I don't want to grow old, there are so many things I haven't done. But that wish I made for ten years of my life, came true. I'm finally growing old. Thirteen isn't old to some eighteen-year-olds, but to nine-year-olds, that's old. I want to be playing in the sand, not a worry in the world. Unlike now, schoolwork, emotions, and so much more than when I was nine. My one wish now, is to never grow up again.
For Never Was a Story of More Woe
by Londyn Runk
One day, two lovers met
The man was praised and never got attacked
Meanwhile, the girl was heavily oppressed
Although they loved each other, the pair could never be together
Why, you ask?
All because of the color of their skin
Society proposed that they were too different and should only date people their skin tone
But they didn’t listen
Because of this, the girl would soon pass away and the boy would be forced to move on
Their names?
Romeo and Juliet
Solar Opposites
by Londyn Runk
Moon
Dark, cold
Gazing, glowing, staring
Stars, craters, astronauts, telescopes
Clouds, rays, heat, sunglasses
Boiling, squinting, tanning
Bright, hot
Sun
The Box
by Kalia Potts
I've been going through some things.
I haven't been feeling a thing.
I've gone numb, hurt, broken.
But all the pain goes unspoken.
It feels like a spell that can't be unbroken.
As I scream for help, no one seems to hear.
As if I'm not speaking clearly.
I'm trapped in this box.
I still haven't found the key to the lock.
I wonder "Does anyone even hear me knocking and pounding on the box?"
The Trial
by Gavin Bush
Dear reader,
For a while, I've wanted to write a book and I never had the right idea. Now that I do, I am ready to share some of what I've written so far. Enjoy.
Sincerely,
Gavin Bush
CHAPTER ONE
He felt it in the air. The dampness of the room felt as if it was seeping into the marrow of his bones.
As he tried to look past the darkness of the room a word popped into his head, Nick. A name, the boy thought, must be his.
Nick stood up and made his way through the room by feeling along the wall. He felt some sort of wire covered in something wet. Then he saw a small light in the wedge of one of the stone blocks in the wall in front of him. It was a tiny stick with fire on the end.
How is this supposed to help me? Nick thought as he flicked down the stick.
The flame caught the wire and the room was lit up by the orange light of flame.
It was a seven-foot by seven-foot room made completely out of stone blocks. The smell was that of a wet dog. A door sat across the room. Nick walked over to the door. He twisted the handle and pushed the door open. Ahead of him was a corridor with a door on the left wall and one at the end.
The first one was locked but the second one opened with ease.
On the floor lay a crowbar and on the other side of the room a door. Nick tried to open the door but it was locked. Nick grabbed the crowbar and slammed it over the handle breaking it right off of the door. The door slowly inched open with a creak.
CRASH!
Nick looked behind him towards the noise. What the?
He opened the door that led back into the corridor and what he saw was horrifying.
Him
by Yu'Nazia Reeves
He's the brawns to my brains
He's the weirdo to my crazy
He's the Patrick to my Spongebob
He's the blue to my skies
He's the sun to my shine
He's the peanut butter to my jelly
He's the sweet to my cake
He's the honey to my bear
He's the center of my world
He's my everything
He's you
Cries
by Yu'Nazia Reeves
Eyes that cry, cry for a reason;
In wars, people cry for hours on end
A birth; mothers, fathers, and relatives, cry for a new life
After graduation, besties depart for the next step of their lives
But who am I, an eighth grader, to tell you whether something is sad or happy, huh?
I mean who cares, right
Men that shed tears are no men, right?
That’s what society says
Society says women should be in the kitchen
Yet women are on the battlefield fighting for those who’ve shed many tears
I’m glad we cry, we show those around us that we are just like them in a way
But what about those who don’t or can’t cry, well
At one point they did cry
At one point they shed beautifully happy, depressingly proud, and outrageously pitiful tears
But someone took advantage of those
and caused them to stop
But in the end
He cries
She cries
They/ Them did cry
I cry
But we all cry for a different reason
How about you
Why do you cry?