Spooky Reads are Here!

It's your October writers, and many of them are ready to scare you good!  Have fun reading!

Remember:
All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this month.  Everyone is required to comment on at least three different pieces of writing.  You must post the comment here on the blog (below the post is the "comments" link to click) AND cut and paste your comments, complete with dates and times, on to a Word document and turn it in to me by the due date.  You must do both to get credit for comments this month.

Remember, comments must be positive, supportive, constructive, and SPECIFIC.  No "Good Job!" comments, unless you follow that with specific things you thought were done well in the piece.  Show them you actually took the time to read and enjoy their work!

"When You Think About It" by Angel R

When you think about it, now a day, people are so fake. The question “How are you doing today?” has become such a casual saying. Sometimes I wonder if people actually care about my day or just want to fill in empty space in a conversation. Also, when listening to people talk to their parents, all I hear is the little brat talking back to their parent. Now don’t get me wrong I’m not some saint that fell from the sky, but I’m not a little brat either. I like to think I’m at the happy medium between saint and brat. But I know the difference between respect and being rude.

As mentioned before there is no perfect child; however I give credit to those who at least attempt or show some sort of effort into being that perfect child. I like to think baby steps are the way to go. So every year, since the beginning of sophomore year, I attempt to be the better person, although I usually never am. This year I try to be gentlemen as much as I can. Call me old fashioned but I still think guys should hold the door open for women and always walk on the left side of the sidewalk.

But anyways, if you haven’t figured it out by now, this piece is probably going to be one long rant about life and/or a description of what I believe in. Cause when you think about it, life is just one dreaded math equation that ends with “no solution.” Even the slightest step you take as to understanding life, sets you one step farther then you were before. However, in today’s society teens think they got life all figured out. They say they are going to graduate High School, move out of state, finish college, and live in Malibu with there family for the rest of their lives.  I don’t know about you but I tend to think about all the little things and make a big deal out of them. Maybe I over think about everything but not getting everything paid is my biggest fear. At this point you probably think I’m and anti-social little kid who is never going to grow up and your probably right. But I have eyes set on big things, which I never like to mention cause I’m afraid of humiliating myself if I don’t do what I had planned.

Well I think I’ve ranted ling enough to the point where I put you to sleep, so Ill just end it here. In conclusion, possibly what I’m trying to convey from this mess I call a writing piece, is don’t be fake.

"Plain" by Diana P

I woke up as usual, in my plain room, with its plain walls and my plain single bed. I stood up and put on my plain clothes and plain shoes. I’m sure some say that a life as plain as mine is boring, but I like it; I think its soothing. But anyway, I proceeded to begin with my daily tasks. Brushing my hair is one of the little things I enjoy doing. All the girls always compliment me on my long, black hair; they say they’re envious of it. One girl even tried ripping it directly off my head, I don’t know why she did that, everyone knows you can’t take someone else’s hair. We’re not allowed to see each other anymore… But I don’t like thinking about that, I like thinking about good things, like last night. Last night was a good night for me. I knitted for five hours and I didn’t even mess up once. I like knitting. For the past few days I’ve been working on a scarf; I think it must be at least fifty feet long by now! My Martha says someone named “Grandma” taught me how to knit, but I don’t remember very much. Everyone here has a Martha, except my friend 00892B says her Martha’s name is Lisa, which is weird. Martha says I have to be good or else bad things will happen… At first, I didn’t believe her, but a long time ago, when I first got here I think I was asking a lot of questions and Martha was getting mad at me. She called someone and a man came and gave me this special juice and put me in a special jacket.  But I don’t like thinking about that, I like thinking about good things and even though my life is plain, I like it here. The screaming doesn’t bother me anymore and I’m warming up to my new name, 98306A.

“The New Kid” by Christian B

 

There was this new kid that went to our school; man he was such a loser. He almost tried out for sports once. It’s a good thing I was there to tell him not to; I told him he would only get himself hurt, and drag the team down. Later he thought it was a good idea to speak outta place during class and actually have the nerve to raise his hand and try to answer a question. So I made sure he knew the truth, that no one cared what he had to say, to just do everyone a favor and shut up. I did a lot for him, like making sure he didn’t go to any parties; just in case he thought he was actually invited. Or actually have the nerve to ask the girl of his dreams to the dance; he had to be told that he would never have a chance. He finally thanked me one day, that new kid. I came to school one day and found caution tape plastered onto the front gates. As I pushed through the crowd I saw people sobbing, teachers and police men had the expression of unbelief on their faces. I saw that new kid lying on the ground. Blood leaked from his mouth, in the puddle of blood was a message written in crimson. It spelled “Thank you ________, thanks for everything”.

(Tell me… does your name belong in that blank?)            

"Your Dark Soul " By Cristina S

Do you ever get that feeling that you don’t want to exist anymore? You wonder if anyone would care if you left this world, you wonder if your existence even matters to anyone. If the person you love the most leaves this world, you want to leave too. I’ve felt this hollow feeling in my chest ever since he left me. Not leave me in a romantic sense, but in a…death way, you can say.

I’m not really sure if he actually did die, to be honest. Hell, I’m not even sure if he was ever alive. Ever since I was young, I’ve had these weird hallucinations, but none were as real as him. I couldn’t touch him, and he couldn’t touch me, but somehow, I heard this voice in my head, and I knew it was his. I named him Kuro, which means black in Japanese. He reminded me of the nights that were pitch black and soundless, the type of darkness that obscures your sight to the point where you can’t even see your own hand in front of your face.

Despite his dark name, Kuro was anything besides dark in appearance and personality. Pale, with silver hair and yellow eyes, and a smile that could light up anyone’s day. Not that anyone but me could see him, but if they could…damn. In a way, I wished people besides me could have seen him, just so that the world knew that the perfect guy every girl and even some guys would have killed for was mine. At the same time I was glad no one could see him. That perfection was meant for me and me alone.

I can feel the tears in my eyes again.  Nobody could quite understand how much my ‘invisible friend’ meant to me, and no one ever would. Especially now that Kuro is gone; everyone just sees me becoming snappish and depressed and a crybaby… I don’t even know how he disappeared!   I just woke up one morning, opened my eyes and expected him to be right in front of my face like he always was when I awoke.  But he wasn’t there. He never reappeared.

The feeling of hollowness just grows the more I think about it, and my tears are falling like the freaking Niagara Falls. I drag myself over to my bathroom mirror and grimace once I see how much of a disaster I look. If I were to describe it, you’d probably scream. Let’s just say that I look like the epitome of a dead man. I feel like it too.

There is an abrupt presence behind me, and a warm arm wrapped around my waist. I tense, but something was different with this touch. It feels…safe. I do a half turn and my eyes widened. It was Kuro, real and alive.

“Come away with me, Taro. You do want to stay with me, don’t you?” Kuro says, a hand extended towards my person and his yellow eyes shining.

“Forever,” I nod, and then I see nothing but the darkness I described earlier. I was right in naming him Kuro.

"Beware Terror" by Katheryn V

      The black ominous door creaks open and the frightened couple step inside not knowing what to expect. The small girl holds onto her partners jacket for dear life as the hallway is filled with dark shadows and menacing statues. On the outside he is calm and collected when internally he is screaming and frantically running around like a scared little boy who just saw Chucky for the first time. A green pale hand reaches out slowly with suspense as the couple hears recorded screams and yells throughout the hallway. The hand grabs them and they both let out a shrill. The hand goes back as the couple recollects themselves and carry on. What they didn't expect was the end. One final door. One says "death" the other "torture." They gave each other a confused glance and proceeded unsure to the door reading "death". Too bad they didn't realize their mistake before they stepped inside. Once they did darkness engulfed the room... Only a small light shimmered but it flickered. They couple distracted by the flickering late had yet to realize the monster waiting to sneak up on them. After staring at the lights flicker the hairy beast jumps out and both scream so high pitched it might have broken glass. The beast returned to its original position and the couple starts to breathe heavily in fear. They rush through the rest of the room, holding onto each other, hoping the nightmare will end. Yet they could not find a way to exit this mysterious "death" room. The girl starts to panic and the boy starts to breathe heavier than normal.
"Where's the exit?!" She exclaimed her soft yet fear filled voice shrilled. She tries to look at him with frightened light green eyes and he tries looks back with confused black eyes, but unable due to the dark abyssal room.
"I don't know," he answered. She felt a chill travel down her spine slowly and she tensed up.
"Was that you?" She asked, her voice breaking.
"Me what?" He replied, unsure where she was. Her hand had let go of his jacket and now they were both walking aimlessly around the room. Jokes on him. She knew everything that was occurring. She knew what was going to happen. He fears the house when he should fear her. They finally come across a lit hallway and he sighs in relief and looks at his girl.
"Light! We must be halfway there," he said with a giddy smile. While she just tilts her head and looks at him.
"Oh this is only the beginning," she said and wide devilish smile appears on her face. He looks at her in terror and she runs towards him... Then black.

She flutters her eyes open and glances around. She's still in bed with her guy. He is sound asleep and lazily snoring. She gazes at him and lies her head back down on the pillow. The smile appears on her face again.
"It was only a dream," she said with disappointment, "for now." Then her eyes go pitch black.

"What Are You Searching for, Anyways?" by Ivan R

            This place is a hell to me. I hate it here. “Honey, aren’t you hungry? Why aren’t you eating?” What a deplorable woman. Sitting at this dinner table with this new family, with “Mom” and “Dad”, feels like I am being mocked. Here I am given the sensation that I am in a dollhouse. Blond Barbie, with a perfectly trimmed pink dress, is sitting on the opposite side of the table from my own figure. At the head of the table is Ken, a man with a strong jawline and a sculpted chest. Both have perfect white smiles painted on their perfectly symmetric faces. There is no reason to be that happy all the time. Pain and resentment are the only effects of those dazzling smiles. All around are decorations; oven, TV, couch, and even video games. Distracting for a time, yes, but they never replace what is lost. Everything plastic, everything fake. When will Mommy pick me up from this place and take me home? When will Dad call me outside to play catch again? In the back of my mind I knew they were never coming back, but refused to accept it. One dreadful month has already crept on by since the day my beloved parents chose the cold, clammy hands of Anubis, Yama, and the Shinigami over mine. These hands which were so full of warmth and life at that time were left empty that day with nothing to call their own. These beautiful creatures that cared for me and loved me were snatched away in an instant. Why did they have to leave? The police said the crash killed them instantly, as if that would make me feel any better. Idiots. That isn’t something you should tell a 13 year old. My wandering mind snapped back to the dinner table. “How was school today, son?” It sucked Ken, thanks for asking. I vehemently refused to answer any of their inquiries and resolved myself as to not make any eye contact with the strangers. The tiny trees on my plate were my only friend at the moment. My only amusement was pushing the dark green objects back and forth on the plate. “May I be excused?” The first commentary the pseudo couple has heard from me all afternoon. Mom looks up, stunned, and responds with “S-sure thing dear, just put your plate in the sink and I’ll take care of it.” I didn’t take a second look back as I bolted up the stairs. My room wasn’t my destination: it was theirs. I rummaged through the drawers looking for my ticket out of this place. Damn, they hid money like politicians. I increased my pace in search for the green 1 way. I froze. “What is this?” I asked shakily out loud, apparently to the ghost in the room. How could Ken and Barbie have baby photos including all three of us?  My real parents are dead. Right?

"As This Heart Decays" by Mahlon H

"Treat her like a queen." Words from my mother that I've tried to follow ever since I got over that cootie faze that all little boys followed. Growing up falling for this girl, that girl, any girl that would remember my name. "How gullible, do you ever think?" This would always happen because an introvert like myself won't be comfortable if they're complimented about anything, as if it were some sick joke. Kind of humorous if you ask me, but that whole faze would pass.

           

           As the years past, I slowly began to dig a ditch that expands into the dark abyss of anxiety and fear that will soon consume me.

Intermediate level with half thought feelings towards the opposite sex. "Do I even think?" Course not, don't think just do, be yourself while wearing a mask. They don't like the real me so be something different. Copy others, cheat on those tests, lie about your grades, lie about it all, lock away the me that I once knew, as if I even need him anymore. Look at this knew me, so strong (not), so smart (don't make me laugh), and I heard that one girl likes me (lies all lies).

          

               Now as my old self falls into this dark hole of despair, I won't acknowledge it, I'll let it bleed, ignore it's screams, let it rot. I don't need that sack of failure anymore.

High Level now with an understanding of the opposite sex. And I think now, I contemplate what I believed what was reality and what is love in the past. The old me is gasping for air, I can hear it's cry, I thought I got rid of that thing. Obviously I won't understand love anytime soon, but I fear I never will. I was with a couple of girls throughout the years, they were alright, for a short time they filled the void that I so foolishly created within myself for all this time, but something is wrong. I'm regaining my consciousness, I'm not the same, I've hurt those who have passed me by, I've ignored others, but most importantly, I've ignored myself.

          My old self has reached out in a desperate attempt to grasp reality. To regain control. As it rises from the abyss,   it's misshapen and torn, in pain, but denies assistance. This depressing, horrific entity is me, the years have not been kind at all.

At the last brink of High level, "before it becomes real", my old self and the new me have merged, by becoming this person that is cold and wretched. "What have you learned?" That I am comfortable with who I am. I no longer need love, no longer seek guidance through others, I want to be alone to embrace the hardships of reality all alone. "Won't you be cold?" Of course, what's so wrong with that? I've grown fond of the piercing cold, as if it were actually warm to me. "But now that you've accepted yourself, won't you want to express yourself towards others?" Only if they pursue me for who I am. I refuse to wear my heart on my sleeve, especially as it leaves such an odor of failure and pain. I will wait for as long as it takes. "Then you won't be needing me anymore?"

                                                                 I never needed you

"Sarcasm Hurts " by Jaena F.

            Sarcasm.  We have all dealt with sarcasm before, whether it came from an individual to even yourself contributing to your own sarcasm.  According to the English dictionary, sarcasm is a sharply ironical taunt, to me; it is more like a heaping bowl of thinly veiled insults disguised as humor.  Sure, there is nothing wrong with teases and jokes in life and that it has the value of making life even fun and exciting but when does it come to the point in where you might be actually hurting the person’s feelings? To me personally, I have had my share of the cruel beatings of sarcasm and was always the girl to not really distinguish how to practice sarcasm. I never understood the reason why sarcasm makes one seem superior to their own intelligence and how people are actually proud of being sarcastic. It always leaves me dumbfounded at times in where people topple themselves on to another thinking of “glorious” new comebacks targeting the individual’s weak point. But of course, one shall have the thought of questioning who am I to even have the audacity to spit and belittle the wondrous world of sarcasm and the splendor it has brought upon to the lives of others yet, this is why I am here to explain why sarcasm hurts.

First things first, you’re not the “realest” if you use sarcasm on people who are sensitive to such comments.  As one would say “sarcasm is the lowest form of wit” and people who use sarcasm are usually insecure that they need to hurt other people in order to feel good about themselves is strongly related to one thing that we students are well aware of; bullying.  Bullying, thankfully, has been lessened due to the support from people all around that have a voice to declare that bullying is not okay. But what about sarcasm? Doesn’t sarcasm have the same values at least and in some, maybe the same intentions? Of course sarcasm isn’t bullying, and I as a student am not calling sarcastic people “bullies” but is there really a certain limit in where one word can hurt a person to a certain extent? If we hide such words under humorous structure, is it considered socially acceptable? Or is the declaration of the blatant error of oneself really triumphing to the heart and soul? So does sarcasm really hurt people? It hurts me to see that my point of view may not even be agreed to some readers behind the screen, but a sense of joy and accomplishment will overthrow all the negativity knowing that I can help someone out there who may have went or are going through with constant sarcasm from sarcastic people by giving my opinion on this topic.

            Maybe you are wondering why I have the words sarcasm in bold. When a person spills out a comment to another, who in that time did not know how to react, this has already put them down. Walking to class thinking of that remark, regretting to say what they wanted or needed to say, constantly belittling them that they are stupid, weak, and a big wuss puss for not replying with another low sneer. Sarcasm gets stuck into people and that words do matter and that they can have a big impact. When I put those words on bold you were basically in the mind of a victim of sarcasm. Wherever they went and whatever they did they couldn’t fully function to their full potential just because of that one thinly veiled insult and what they could have done to topple you off. And that is where it really hurts.

"October Writing" by Nehemiah B

My heart was racing as I heard the floor creak with each step the man took. As he got closer, I could hear the axe dragging across the wooden floors. "I'm going to find you.", said the deep demonic voice. It's crazy how fast my day turned from great, to the makings of a horror story.
     It had been a great Friday, I aced my math test and finally talked to my future wife for the first time at the football game. After the game, as I was approaching my car, a cold hand grasped my arm. I nearly jumped out of my skin, just to realize it was my friend Trent. "Hey bro can I get a ride home with you?" I said okay, after all he did live up the street from me.
     When we reached Trent's house he invited me in, but I declined. He looked at me for a while and said "All right bro, but be safe 'cus I got a bad feeling about something. Keep your eyes on the road!" Just to mess with him I peeled out as I drove off. The ride home was a nice one, Pandora was playing pretty good music. Then my favorite song came on, so naturally I turned up my stereo so that everyone within a half mile could enjoy my music, and then it cut off. I looked at my phone to see my father calling, but I wasn't going to talk on the phone while driving so I let it go to voicemail and turned my stereo back up.
     I parked my car on the street in front of my house. As I shut off the engine I got a strange feeling, like someone was watching me, so I rushed to get to the door. When I reached the porch I noticed the front door was already open. I cautiously approached the open door and pushed it open as a blood curdling scream rang out from the other room. I sprinted as fast I could just to see that a slasher film was playing. Relieved, I walked into the kitchen and greeted my father. After answering a few questions about the game I excused myself so I could get into the shower. I turned on my music while I waited for the shower to heat up. As a strange feeling grew inside of me, I gazed into the mirror and saw a man right outside of my door! I looked behind me to see no one there. Still bothered by what I had just seen, I got into the shower and tried to calm myself down. While rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I heard a loud bang but dismissed it as something that fell in the other room.
     I shut the shower off and started to dry myself off. When I was dry, I turned off my music off and walked into my room and got dressed. Then I decided to go hang out with my dad in his room. I walked across the upstairs hall to his room. As I opened the door, I stepped in a warm liquid and looked up to see my fathers headless body slumped lifelessly in the corner. The next thing I knew, I was picking myself up off the floor. I turned around to see a monster of a man, wielding an axe, looking at me with a twisted smile. Instinct took over as I took two explosive steps toward him and lowered a shoulder into his stomach, which sent him over the banister and caused a sickening thud. Before I knew it I had hid in my closet and began praying. My heart was racing as i heard the floor creak with each step the man took. As he got closer, I could hear the axe dragging across the wooden floors. "I'm going to find you.", said the deep demonic voice.

"The Feline Mind" by Daniel A

Journal #1

How have I come to living in these low degrading standards! Why have I been taken by these beasts, with their ugly looks. I hear the stupid dog call our wardens beautiful. However when I look at them, I just think of Frankenstein’s hideous creation. Especially with the little ones they call “children”. I’ll be sure to claw their legs when they walk down the hallway.

Journal #2

            I still to this day am highly confused as to how that dumb dog can have so much love for these monsters. Just this morning I saw the humans soaking him in water as if it were some type of ritual or sacrifice, I couldn’t bear to look at this atrocity. Nearly an hour later the dog returned happier than ever. I still am having a hard time understanding how he could possibly enjoy being sacrificed by soap and water. He has my pity----- for now at least.

Journal #3

            Curse my masters! I have been confined to the prison they call a kennel! How dare they do this to me, I have caused no mayhem within their establishment---yet. I keep trying to yell for my fellow comrades to help me escape from this degrading prison, however my screams for aid are confined by this metal shield the humans ride in. I keep hearing the two bigger savages mention something called a vet and neutering. I have no idea on what these things are but I don’t want to find out. I see the dog in the other prison! Maybe he can help me- oh wait I forgot, the dog is my mortal enemy. If I meet my fate at this vet so shall he! The human’s mobile shell has stopped, my heart is racing as I look out of my prison to come face to face with another savage. Is this the vet I have heard of? Yes this is the vet, she seems nice. Now all I need to know is what neutering means.

           

"The Beggar" by Frederick S (Bonus Entry)

There was once a beggar that sat on the corner of Main St. He was blind and could not work and so he would beg to all the lads and maidens who passed by the road but no one stopped to pay attention.

Now there were three brothers. They were always known for their pilfering ways. One day, they were sitting by the best pub in town when a journeyman wandered there. This man was tired from his passage but he stopped when he saw the old beggar. “Please help me,” the beggar croaked, “Please!” The journeyman took sympathy on the old man for he had once had to take care for his passed father before. The brothers followed and saw the journeyman muttering to the old man, “Here, this should last you for awhile.” He reached into his bag and handed the beggar a golden bar. “Yes, the time has finally come.” the oldest brother whispered, “We will finally be able to have anything we want!”

As the twelfth bell of midnight rang, the brothers snuck up to the beggars sleeping spot on the corner. The third brother was chosen to get the gold but as he was wriggling it away from the beggar’s bag, it slipped. The old man then immediately shot up and turned his head around. Reaching for his bag he realized his metal bar was gone. “Hey, Hooligans!” yelled the beggar, “Give that back!” The oldest brother yelled back, “Only of you can get it from us, old fool.” “You will rue this day and Death will have his revenge!” the old man replied. Then the brothers continued to other towns and eventually sold the gold bar to an auction man for a high price. Soon enough, the brothers ventured out on their own in search of a way to satisfy their dreams.

The eldest brother traveled to a nearly city where there were many prominent figures and challenged the ones who made him poor to a gamble. When he won he strutted around flaunting his money to everyone in site. That night, a local thief snuck into his room and killed him and took all his money. And so Death took the first brother for his own. The middle brother decided to try and reclaim his lost love who left him for his poverty. But she rejected him for she had married and faithful. So the brother fell to depression and killed himself. And so Death took the second brother for his own.

The third brother, however, realized the wrong of their ways and returned to the town and waited for the beggar. Day and night, the brother waited without food or drink until he heard the old man; “You have returned.” he said. But the brother was blinded by the sun and couldn’t see his face.

“You have regained your sight?” the brother asked. “You can say that.” replied the beggar.And so Death greeted the third brother like an old friend.

"Lessons" By Gabriela M

It was the beginning of my senior year. Things were going alright for me at the time. I was exhausted because I felt like I took on to many tasks for my senior ,year. So being able to go out and have fun that night gave me a sense of relief. It was just like any other Friday, having fun after a football game. It was having the music blasted with the people you love to be around in the car with you.Looking at everyone’s faces of joy did not allow to think that anything would happen. It’s weird how you always think that things will go routinely, as usual. We were on our way back home from Denny’s and I was about to be dropped off at home. All I remember, seeing, was a quick flash of seeing a car speeding out of the neighborhood almost crashing into us and my friend swerving into a huge tree and a curb. As soon as it happened the driver said for all of us to get out because liquid was spilling out of the front of his car .There was dents in his car along with pieces of his car on the floor. The guys then, along with a kind man who helped us move it to the side of a street and we then we all got help from the drivers parents. Even though, we all left the scene without damage, it gave me a wakeup call because it could have been worse.You see , I had never been in a car accident before and it hit me because how could an amazing time take such a quick turn. This reminded me of how my economics teacher had said that Friday that at parties you need to watch out with your drinks because with one turn, someone could’ve inserted something dangerous in your drink so throw it away, even if you turned for just a second. It is weird how in a blink of an eye thinks could change. I feel like as teen every time someone told me that things could happen instantly, I never believed them because I just did not think it could happen to me .For the driver, a change in a good senior, a year without a car for senior year. For the kid in the passenger seat, which who was closest to the tree we crashed into could have been severe damage to his physical body. For myself, and the passenger right next to me, scarred by the image of a car crashing so quickly, and we are now cautious about whose cars we get into. Although we did not have it as bad as other people who have gotten into accidents, it got me thinking. The “what if’s” that night kept getting to me. The, if something worse had happened to all of us and we all did not have a senior year. In that moment the guy or girl that ends up on the news their senior year for passing away in a tragedy did not seem so far that night. In that moment I thought of how valuable life really is. I thought about how young my friends and I really were, and how much more time we had in our hands to do things. 

Many times I catch myself living life stressed, unhappy, and maybe even unappreciative of the love and support I do have. The things I take for granted all hit me allowing for me to step back and reflect on the positives that I do have.  I come home to a good family, a beautiful home, and thinking about all my amazing friends really got me to realize to always embrace every moment that you have on this earth and remembering you have so much more to accomplish, it was a reminder to love deeply, and be grateful for the people you care about and the people that care about you because it is never known when someone is taking their last breath.

"I Should Have Said: 'Baby, don’t hurt me.' " by Ambriell H

Amelie whimsically asked, “What is love?”

 I replied:

“Love is not a promise; it’s a privilege. Pastors preach, “Love is patient,” and, “Love is kind.” But, Love is quick and Love is rude. Love is sloppy. Love is pretentious. Love is envious. Love is the most disgusting thing ever created and that is why I crave it. I need to hear those 3, simple words “Love,” “I,” and “You” in a particular order or my cold heart will stay an unmoving stone. I need to feel lips pressed against mine that are rough and yearning. I need to touch cloying, clammy hands or I will cut my own off. Love is neither sex nor drugs, but it is worse. Love leaves you breathless. Love kicks you to the depths of Hell itself. Love strips you of everything, even though you had nothing.

Love is NOT a promise; it’s a privilege. Love is beastly at it’s best and alluring at its worst. A popular commodity among the struggling and virtuous alike. Love is not a metaphor. Love is not a theme. Love is more than a word, but valued at less than a penny. Love reeks of contradiction. Love is hot. Love is freezing. Love is not what you decide it to be, but what it wants to be. Love has personality. Love can be vain. Love can be modest. Love can be undeserving. Love can be premature. Love can be someone. Love could be you. Love could be her. Love could be your husband. Love could be her mistress. Love could be his murderer. Love could be an action. Love is a phone call. Love is a gentle kiss on the forehead. Love is vigorous sex. Love is a bat of those brown, doe eyes. Love is dancing the waltz too close for comfort. Love is touching your next door neighbor’s son. Love is screaming, “STOP!” Love is prescribed as predictable by every author you could meet. Yet, Love is anything but.

Love is a privilege; it is not a promise.”

After my soliloquy, I noticed a fair amount of tears in my lover’s eyes as she said, “Baby, I was just trying to sing that Haddaway song, but, God, I love you.” I smiled and pulled her in for a kiss. I am so incredulously in love with her, so I sang back, “ Baby, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me no more,” she hummed the melody after I was done and kissed my cheek. I am so lucky.

"In The Days of My Youth" by Richie G

      In the days of my youth the doors at home were always open. The grass was always green, the flowers were always in bloom, and the fence was always pearly white. The shingles were in perfect order, the chimney stack was as red as the fires that burned in it, and our mailbox stood perfectly erect on it's pole with a perfect paint job and not a dent in it. It was when I turned ten, maybe eleven, when I realized the diet stained out windows, most of the grass was a slight yellow, and we hadn't even planted any of the flowers I adored as a child for a few years. There were bricks missing from the chimney, crooked shingles and a few dents in the mailbox that I hadn't noticed before. When I left at 17 to attend college in a land far away, I noticed that the lawn was completely and utterly decimated, as if it had been salted by the Romans. The mailbox was on the ground, no longer attached to a pole. The fence was brown now, none of the white gleam I remember there. The chimney had collapsed entirely, leaving an exposed hole into our living room where I had enjoyed many cold nights by the fire with my family. With my last glance around at what had once been my favorite place to play in my childhood, I said my goodbyes to my mom, dad, brother, and went away to college. After my 10 years of schooling, a doctorate of neurological science and a surgery license in my hand, I avoided going home. I always invited them to stay with me but I didn't go back. More years past, how many, I do not know, as I have stopped counting. I'm at the top of my game; I make more than every member of my family combined, I see them enough to feel alright with never returning home. My wife and kids are content with the stately manor that occupies some estate in the north of the state, and I couldn't be happier. But then I got a letter, from my brother whom I confess had grown away from me over the years, which stated the house had collapsed. Our parents had not been home, but it was utterly destroyed by the high winds of the season. I returned to the house, which say on on the south side of the country, and examined the old house. But looking at it, I didn't see the collapsing prison of my youth, or even the destroyed structure before me. I saw it as I had as a young boy who played in the yard, sat on the soft green grass and had no worries. Maybe it hadn't really changed so drastically over the years. Maybe it had been only in my head, to justify leaving the safety it had provided me as a child. Whatever the case, I love it all the same, and it will always be the house I remember from the days of my youth.

"Black Mac Lipstick" by Oluwakemi A.

                                                                                                         

            "Skylar... Skylar, hello are you in there ?" Emmy calls from the other side of Skylars dorm room door. The two had previous plans to attend a fashion show later on that evening, but Skylar was no where to be found. The loud sounds of Taylor Swifts 1989 album blast from the other side of the door. "Woo, I love this album. Open up Sky, where going to be late " bursting into the room Emmy sees no one. Turning off the music , Skylar's Iphone 6 she recently purchased ringer goes off , checking the phone only to see an anonymous caller ID. Emmy begins to get nervous where could she be ? Haunts her mind , Halloween is a few hours away in this little town of Wrenklefits, something bad always happens to Em in Wrenklefits around Halloween, who knows what wackos are out and about harassing beautiful young college girls. Asking if anybody had seen her, Emmy is struck with even more worry for her girlfriend. She stumbles across a letter tapped to a black Mac lipstick case and gift bag attached. Opening the letter it reads, "Wash your face, do your hair , where this lace , paint your face beautiful , oh and open this case." Black heels, all white jumpsuit , gold jewelry , and the black lipstick.

           Following the directions on the card, Emmy ends up in this beautiful illuminated garden with fancy decorations and a table for two. At a lost for words , A voicemail pops up on Skylars phone she listens" hi, lovely I know you love fashion ,flashy things ,and wanted to see all those pretty outfits and people, but I found a better way to spend your 21st Birthday. "BOOM, BOOM" the sound of two bright lights opposite each other center in the walkway the continuation of the Taylor Swift album playing in the background and out walks the models, their closet friends, Emmy is instantly flattered. Filled with Joy so eager to see her beloved's face. The bright light shines on a body in the distance as Em runs over to the light she opens her arms wide longing for a kiss then, she wakes up. There's a knock at the door she opens it. It's Skylar "Come on bestie where going to be late, the show starts soon" in bursts Ronnie Skylars boyfriend , " Lets go babe my friends wanting outside for you Em I hope you like him" He smiles at me , he leaves I start to get dressed just before they go Skylar stops " Best friend, wait stop wear this " kisses Em cheek and follows Ronnie out. Em opens the bag , its the black Mac lipstick. Em smiles there's hope after all. Meeting the others in the parking lot , Matthew Ronnie's friend introduces himself , then compliments Emmy " Black looks beautiful on you, Hi I'm Mat Happy birthday !

"The Dance" by Anthony C

            Let me tell you a little story. A story about when I was just a kid. I was a kid going to a Halloween Dance. Mind you, I was just a kid. Anyway, I went to the dance, yes. Oh, I forgot to mention, I didn’t have a car at this time. I walked there. To the school. Alone. I had gone to the dance with Emily. Long blonde hair, pretty blue eyes? Oh yes…

            We had a great time. There was great food, and the songs were nice too. The decorations were also on point. “Spider webs” hanging from the ceiling and walls, goo coming from the walls. The costumes were also pretty nice. Some dressed as Dracula or an armored knight. The girls dressed like a Banshee and whatnot. That was THE dance to go to. The dance of the year! I could never forget! Also what happened after the dance… It was… not a great experience.

            You see after it was all over, I had gotten my cellphone and called my parents to pick me up. SURPRISE, MY PHONE WAS DEAD. The only way to get into contact with my parents was to use my phone. Emily didn’t bring a phone with her, and I didn’t have any other friends. I had no way of contacting them. I soon decided why not just walk home. I mean, I had walked to the dance, so why not walk back home, right? I walked out of the school however, no one was outside. Why was no one here? I went back into the school and no one was there either… The music was still playing; the trash was still on the floor. It’s almost as if everyone abandoned the place. I went back outside, and to my surprise there were cars there. They weren’t there before. I just ignored all that stuff and walked home.

            While I was walking home, I heard footsteps behind me. I started picking up my pace, eventually running back home. Afraid of who it was or what might’ve happened if I looked behind. I soon reached my home and went inside. Locked the doors tightly and made sure no one could get in or out. That’s when it happened; I saw it in front of me. My parents. On the floor. Dead. I rushed to the phone and tried to call the police. The phone didn’t work. I quickly escaped this place, wanting no more memories of it. But here I am, 30 years later. I still remember, but I don’t want to. It haunts me day and night. I can’t talk to anyone anymore. It’s like I’m insane. Am I? I’m not sure anymore. Am I insane? I’m not sure anymore. I went back to my old house. The one I walked to on that day. I reached the house. Something came out the door. Mom? Dad?

“It’s all your Fault” by Sarah S.

Samantha and Lily were the best of friends and never had they thought this would be their future. Samantha and Lily went to the same high school, Ridgeway in their small little town. When they were seniors Samantha had started to date some guy who everyone knew him as “Flynn the cutie” or “Flynn the most popular guy in school”. Lily and Sam had slowly moved apart because of some fight and Lily wants Sam, her only friend, to be with her always. One day Flynn’s ex – girlfriend, Vanessa, had noticed Sam and Flynn dating. She became jealous of Sam so she spread rumors saying Sam was cheating on Flynn. He had caught on and thought it was true so he spread more rumors too. A couple of days later they, Sam and Flynn, broke up.

Sam started to regain a close friendship with Lily again. Everything was well except for the horrible rumors. Until Lily had poked her head out of the girls restroom in the gym, where Sam had a club meeting, motioning her to come over. Sam got up, said some excuse to go to the restroom, and walked towards Lily. “What’s up?” asked Sam. “I heard rumors being spread about you Sam an-” Sam interrupted, “I know and I really don’t care about any of it!” Lily got choked up as she said, “But those rumors include me too.” Sam said a little bit too loud, “What could they possibly say about you?” “They said you hate me and want to murder me but-”, said Lily bursting into tears. “Why would I ever say that? You know me Lily!! If you are really dumb enough to think I said that then … We shouldn’t be friends! I don’t care what they say anyways!” It got silent as they stood there processing what had happened. Lily then quietly whispered mostly to herself, “Well I care what they say about me.” Something Sam said will always make her regretful for the rest of her life. “I don’t remotely care what you care about if you are dead or alive, you have no clue what I’m going through!!”

Two weeks later Lily was driving on a rainy day and she crossed a bridge over a lake. Her car began to spin out of control and crashed into the side of bridge; splashing in the water.  Lily’s car filled with water and she drowned. Thinking of the last words she heard her best and only friend say and died with it. At the funeral, it was a cold, gloomy day. Sam stayed in the back because she did not want to see her corpse friend. Samantha had listened to everyone: family member, neighbors talk about how much they loved and will miss Lily. Even Flynn and now his new girlfriend Vanessa who spread the rumors about them had the nerve to show up and talk about how sweet she was and how much they “loved” Lily. It was all over and Miss. McIntire, Lily’s mother, had called Sam over and they looked over Lily’s lifeless body. “Hold my hand and put it on Lily. Maybe we can produce enough body heat and we can bring her back to life.” said Miss. McIntire slowly.  Sam stood there for a while but backed away and looked at Lily with tears in her eyes.

Weeks after the funeral, Sam decided to visit Miss. McIntire to see if she was okay since she hasn’t talked to her since the funeral. Sam knocked at the front door and Miss. McIntire swung the door open and let Sam in. Before they did anything Miss. McIntire hugged Sam; it felt good but then Miss. M had whispered something to Sam that she will never forget. “If you never said the horrible, nasty things about Lily, then she never would have commit suicide. It’s all your fault.”                 

"The Attic" by Elianna G

      One night Anne and Cody were left home alone while their parents were out with some co-workers for dinner and they wouldn’t be home till late that night. The kids thought it would be like any other night, but they were wrong. Little did they know that tonight would change their lives forever. While the two kids stood in the kitchen looking for something to eat they heard an odd noise coming from upstairs. It sounded as if a little girl was laughing. To Anne’s surprise Cody was already bounding for the stairs to investigate where the noise was coming from. When Anne reached her brother she found him staring wide eyed at the attic door. While he starred she heard the laughing again but louder this time and it was coming from the attic. She realized why her brother was staring at it. When she seen her brother reaching to pull down the attic stairs she snapped back to reality. “Cody what do you think you’re doing!” Anne exclaimed. “We can’t just ignore this Anne!” Cody yelled. Anne ignored him and let him pull the string to open the attic. As soon as the attic door opened the stairs came down with a loud thud followed by a thick cloud of dust. This caused the kids go into a coughing fit. When the air was cleared up they heard something that made them cringe with fear and get chills all over their bodies. “Come play with me Anne” the little girl kept saying over and over again. Anne was beyond freaked out she was terrified, she wanted to pee in her pants and hide. Cody was as scared as his sister and even more scared for her. He decided to use whatever courage he had left and began climbing the creaking stairs towards the dusty attic as Anne followed behind. When they reached the attic floor they looked everywhere to see if they could find the little girl that was making the sounds that frightened them terribly. The attic was filled with spiderwebs, dust, and things that haven't been used in ages. The unknown girl kept singing some kind of lullaby that the kids had never heard which caused the kids heart beats to beat faster. When Anne kept looking around frantically for something anything that would help them get rid of the calm voice of the mysterious girl, she came across a door that was very old and dusty. As she inspected the door it all of a sudden started shaking from being banged by something on the other side. "Anne help me!Please Anne I need your help there coming for me! There trying to take me away please Anne!" Anne was so scared she literally was shaking. She screamed out for Cody but there was no response. Again and again she screamed but again there was no answer. Suddenly the old door swung open and a little girl who looked awful covered in dirt and mud pulled Anne in without a struggle. "We've been waiting for you Anne, your gonna be MY new sister!"Anne was screaming to get out after the door shut she banged on the door and tried to pry it open but nothing worked. Anne realized that it was no use a crawled up in a corner and cried and cried until she no longer could. Cody never seen his sister Anne after that day he came down from the attic. It's been 17 long and sad years but he still searches the attic for her every day hoping to one day be reunited with his sister.