Some great reading for the holidays!

 What a gift!   Be sure to read them all and comment on a minimum of three entries for the month -  Blog comments will be due January 18th.  Have a great break!

Read all of the selections for this month --   comments are for this month's group only (no earlier months, or last year's submissions)

Remember:
All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this month (December).  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!

"Friendship" by Abigail R

     Friendship is something that must consist of an endless amount of effort by both people.
When I was in the 6th grade, I learned that not everyone who claims to be your friend, actually
is. At the beginning of 6th grade I was friends with a group of girls that I believed fit the
definition of true friends, but I was horribly mistaken. We were a typical group of friends. We
ate lunch together, we went to the mall together, and we shared all of our secrets with each other.
It all started one day during lunch when I decided to finally tell my friends about the boy I liked.
Let’s call him Billy, obviously that’s not his name but... I had known Billy since the early years
of elementary school and I always had a crush on him. I didn’t want to tell my “friends” I had
liked Billy for a while because I was afraid they were going to tell him. But, when Billy started
dating a girl I didn’t know, I had to get it off my chest. I planned to back off and let Billy and his
girlfriend do their own thing but my friends had other plans. “You have to do something about it
Abby!” That’s all I heard for the next week. I listened to their plans and how we were
supposedly going to break up Billy and his girlfriend but I really didn’t agree with sabotaging
their relationship. The next day at lunch, I was standing in the field and a big group of people
came up to me and they forced Billy to tell me he didn’t like me and didn’t even want to be
friends with me. I ignored it as much as I could but just as I thought it was done and over with, I
showed up to school to find my so called friends talking and giggling with none other than
Billy’s girlfriend! I was extremely confused.
     At the time I didn’t really know what to do but since they were unfortunately my only
friends I hung out with, I had no choice but to walk up to them. “Oh hi Abby. This is…” I knew
who she was. I smiled at her and she smiled back. She seemed nice and she didn’t seem to even
have any idea that I already knew who she was. Time passed and she hung out with us more and
more but I never really got to know her personally like the rest of my friends. I would have,
except for the fact that all my friends told me she didn’t like me. I was confused because I never
gave her a reason not to like me and my friends wouldn’t tell me why either. As we were
preparing to go to 6th grade camp, we were told to pick partners to bunk with and stay with at
camp. Unfortunately, I was left without a partner and they consistently changed the person who
was supposed to be my partner. Billy’s girlfriend and another girl were the only two left to
choose from. My group of friends obviously were trying to leave me by myself so they paired up
Billy’s girlfriend and the other girl together, leaving me out of the picture. I remember feeling so
left out and upset that I went home and as I was explaining the situation to my mom, I started to
cry. I did everything I could to make the best out of the situation. I came to school the next day
to find that Billy’s girlfriend had left our cabin and I now had a partner. I was happy but also
couldn’t help but wonder why she left our group. Camp was fun and the girls acted like nothing
even happened. Until we got home... Shortly after we returned, I was told “Hey Abby, today we
are going to hang out with different people and not with each other.” I thought that sounded
somewhat suspicious but I just went with the flow, as usual. It came time for lunch and I planned
to sit with some old friends instead of them which was fine, until I walked in the MPR to find
them all sitting together. As I was walking up to them, I felt someone grab me by the arm, and
say “Do you want to come sit with me?” To my surprise, it was Billy’s girlfriend.
     That was the start of our friendship and we have been best friends ever since. I ate lunch
with her every day from then on and never once did I look back. Come to find out, the girls were
also telling Billy’s girlfriend that I didn’t like her just like they had told me. Through the
situation, I learned a lot. I learned that people will always come and try to tear you down as they
go. They will use you and walk all over you to try and get to where they want to be. They will
fill your head with lies and do anything to make sure you believe them. I also learned that
communication is an extremely important aspect of friendship. If Billy’s girlfriend and I would
have just talked to each other to begin with, none of that useless drama would have even
happened. Now I know what to look for in my friends and I also know that trust isn’t something
that can be earned in a short period of time. Friendships take time to build but once you have
them, they should be cherished and cared for because some of them are once in a lifetime
chances. Not everyone has good intentions but everyone deserves a chance and that is something
that everyone should remember. So, now that you know my story, I think it’s only fair that I
reveal something to you. I said I wasn’t going to name names, but Billy’s girlfriend is none other
than my best friend of 6 years now, Ashlyn. You might know who she is but you should also
know that she was the first person to show me what true friendship really looks like. And to this
day I try to be the very best friend I can to everyone around me.

"The Hitchhiker" by Gurkirat K

                 

As the crisp cold weather was beginning to settle in late december, every breath was visible. Children went to bed with more anticipation for the morning than any other night of the year. Most people had already retreated to their homes, filled with the spirit of the holiday season. However, some were rushing to the stores to find the perfect gift and some to get a gift for an unexpected relative.

The roads were lonely and dark near the countryside and the corn fields engulfed the land as far as the eye could see, with only a few unsound huts protruding out of the flatness. A car arrived, piercing the silence, drove down the highway with two figures inside of it. The two of them were brothers, determined to reach their aunt Cybil’s house in Vermont before Christmas morning. It was tradition for the family to get together during the holidays, but Hunter and Landon were running late. They both lived in an apartment in New York and were attending New York University. With Landon on the wheel and Hunter on the aux, they drove for a couple hours, listening to Rae Sremmurd, by the endless fields while the sky became darker and the night colder. Suddenly after a few hours of driving, the songs stopped playing and Landon turned his head towards Hunter, only to find out that he was staring right back at him with no emotion on his face. With a jerk, Ariana Grande’s music blasted from the speakers and Hunter started to dance frantically in his seat. Landon looked away with disappointment and Hunter ran his index finger down Landon’s face while singing along with the song. Shoving his hand away, Landon yelled, “What the heck bruh!? Why you always be doing this kinduv stuff, you know I don’t like that junk.” Hunter started to laugh uncontrollably and Landon, with a scowl on his face, focused on the road.

“Dude stop laughing,” said Landon.                                                                                                                         “Why? Are you annoyed of me already bro, we still have a couple hours to go,” replied Hunter, still recovering from the laughter.                                                                                                                                          “There is a man on the side of the road,” explained Landon.                                                                         

   “What is he doing in the middle of nowhere all alone?” Hunter now pointing to the man’s luggage, “Looks like he is trying to get somewhere. Let’s give him a ride. I mean it is Christmas and all. Tis the season of giving dude.”                                                                                                                                                                

 “I don’t know man, what if he is a psycho murderer or something...these hitchhikers always end up killing somebody in the end...,” responded Landon with a hesitation in his voice.                          Rolling his eyes, Hunter replied, “That only happens in the movies and you my friend have been watching way too many movies lately. Just pull up and let’s do a good thing.”                                                         

 Landon pulls up the dusty side road, still unsure of the decision. Hunter rolls down the window and begins to talk to the stranger. “Ayy yo dude! You need a ride?” The man was dressed in a long trench coat with a panama hat on his head. The collars of his trench coat were covering most of his face, which worried Landon and the cold snowy December air rushing through Hunter’s window sent chills down his spine. Hunter with a sparkling and welcoming smile on his face waited for the stranger to respond. As the man started to walk to the window...Hunter yells, “Ahhhh bruh! I see you rocking them fresh Timbs.” Landon shakes his head and face palms himself. The man stops momentarily and looks down at his shoes and then resumes back to walking towards Hunter.   

                                                                                    

“Will you two young lads be kind enough to drop me fifty miles down the road,” asked the man. His face was still not visible due the darkness of the eerie night and the lack of streetlights on the countryside.                            

 “Of course, dude,” replied Hunter almost immediately. The man sat down behind Hunter and placed his luggage on the floor.

One hour later, both brothers shared a terrified look and sweat ran down their foreheads. Landon yanked the steering wheel to the side and the car came to a screeching halt. Both ran out of the car and into the fields.                                                                                                                                                                            

 “Hunter I’m freaking out, I told you that he was going to kill us!,” Landon exclaimed while trying to catch his breath.

“Dude, I thought that only happened in the movies, but this guy is legit turned out to be a murderer,” said Hunter.

“He kept looking inside his coat and laughed to himself like a million times dude. On top of that, I saw a shining blade in his coat,” Landon said trying to fathom the the situation.

“When we went over that speed bump, his suitcase opened and I saw a freaking gun handle dude. When I asked him to let me see his Timbs I saw a swiss army knife attached to the inside of his shoe.” Hunter peered over the crops trying to have a glance at the man in the car. “If that is not a sign that he is planning to kill us, then I don't know what is!”

“I know! We have to do something about it! I mean school makes me want to kill myself and all, but I am still trying to catch that family dinner tho!,” explained Landon.

“You right! I got a bat in the back of the car. I will get the bat while you distract that weirdo and then I smack him on the top of the head and then we can run him over and throw him in the corn field,” Hunter replied. 

Hunter and Landon started to slowly walk towards the car when the man noticed them and shifted towards them. Landon frantically ran towards the trunk and they executed the plan as planned. However, as they were dropping the body into the ditch, a post card fell out of his coat, which had a drawing of a little girl holding her dad’s hand and the skribbles spelled “Hope you make it for christmas on time from the army daddy.”

"Finding Janice" by Cody S

                  It was a brisk Sunday morning, around the same time of the month as it is now. After waiting weeks, it was finally the day. We were on our way to the Pomona Swap-meet, one of the biggest car selling and buying events in California, specifically classic cars and vintage Volkswagens. We were on our way to look for my dream first car: an old Volkswagen beetle. We arrived and once we walked through the gates I was in awe, it was the most Volkswagens I’d ever seen in one place, there were rows and rows, at least 300 cars in total. Once we were in, it was time for the fun part, finding the right car for the right price. We walked through the rows and kept a sharp eye, and about three hours later we had narrowed it down to about 3 cars. A blue 1959, a teal 1968, and a black 1969. We began looking at the ’59, because it was my favorite out of the 3.  At first look, the car was a steal, it was lowered and on rims, and had the original paint job, which really added to the vintage look of the car, and the motor looked to be in good condition. As we began to look closer, we noticed it had the wrong tail lights for that model year, and a few other things led us to believe it most likely wasn’t a 1959, but that didn’t diminish our interest too much.  We looked under the car, and there was the reason this guy was getting rid of the car for so cheap. All throughout the bottom of the car there was holes due to rust, to where you could see into the car. Sadly, this wasn’t the one, it would’ve been too much work to get it safely drivable. So, we moved on to the black ’69, and it was a short look, because the seller was firm on his price, which was out of our price range. Another one was gone, and we were down to one final option, the teal 1968. We looked and everything seemed right. It was newly painted and the interior was recently restored. It was in our price range and the motor ran great. The guy bought the car as a gift for his wife, but she ended up not liking it because of the manual transmission (stick shift). We took the guys number, and decided to take another look around to see if there were any other options, because as the day goes on people get more desperate and prices lower, so we were hoping to get lucky. As we walked down one row, a white beetle had just sold, for half the price that was listed earlier in the day! We had just missed a really good deal, and I started to get discouraged that we wouldn’t find the car of my dreams.  Out of the 3 cars we looked at, only one met all our requirements, the teal car. Now I liked the teal car, but I didn’t love it. The body style of beetles changed in 1967, they got wider and all the lights got bigger and bulkier. I personally didn’t like this, but I really wanted to drive home in a new car, so I told my dad I could settle for this one. Based on my body language, my dad could tell I didn’t really like this one, and so he asked me if I was sure this was the one I wanted. It took everything I had to muster up the two-letter word I responded with, “No.” Sadly we got in our car and drove home with still only one set of keys, not two. Although I didn’t get my car yet, there was still time left in the day, so I hopped on craigslist. I looked for about 30 seconds until I got to an ad for a 1962 beetle, right in my price range, located in chino. I asked my dad if we could go look at it, and he agreed. On our way there, I had a good feeling, like this was the one. We got to the In-N-Out that we had agreed to meet the guy at and he wasn’t there yet. About 20 minutes passed and he still hadn’t shown up, and I started to get really nervous this guy was going to be a no show. Just as I was about to give up, I saw him come around the corner, and I instantly fell in love with the car. It was everything I wanted, new interior, older model, sleeker body, and a good running motor. We went on a test drive and it didn’t take much to sell us on the car, we knew it was the one. It was one of the best moments of my life, literally a dream come true. As soon as I arrived home with my car the first thing I did was name her. I got my inspiration right from the 60s and named her after the famous Janice Joplin, one of my favorite artists from that time.  I guess if I had to take a lesson out of all this, it would definitely be to never settle, because if I would’ve settled I would’ve missed out on the deal of a lifetime.

"Let Me Wear This Fake Smile" by Bridget O

     Let me wear this fake smile, that conceals in me a true sadness. I wonder if anyone else sees it,
the thought of angst consuming my innocent mind. Concealer to brighten my somber skin. Blush
to give my sunken cheeks some false form of radiance. Mascara to open my sleepless eyes.
     Lipstick to make fuller my sullen lips. Draped over my body, another spacious sweater to cover
my concave shoulders. All this, and yet, it will not dispose of the tragedies that lie within my
weak frame. No amount of concealer will cover my somber skin. A heavy hand of blush could
not make fuller this emptiness. Several swatches of mascara can not bring light back into nor
bear coverage of the sadness within my soul. A tinted lip won’t produce joy and laughter. No
article of clothing will raise the hollows of my hope. All this I know, and yet again, I take a step
back to look into the mirror to see how well I have masked my true form. I see no reflection of
life. I have no more will to float around as a ghost just hoping to make it back into the lightless
sheets of my bed. A lifeless vacuity, not contributing to the universe nor adding to the lives of
others. My existence, senseless and long succumbed to the darkness of this prison I call my
mind. In this moment all the power within me that has secured my strings of sanity have now
snapped.
     As if the emotional state of a human can be reproduced onto a small scale of 10 numbers and
faces gradually descending from happiness to complete gloom, the doctors ask that I point to
which number and face reflects the true emotions of my heart. My memory is muddles by the
drugs forced in my body, inadvertently turning me aloof and immobile.
     Glassware shattered, curtains and blinds torn off the wall, furniture out of place. Then restraints
on my body to prevent further destruction, leading me to this very moment. Dressed in a pale
blue, thin, backless dress incoherently deciding which number and face shall represent my
emotional state.
     Something about these hospital walls brings me feelings of comfort and security, for I am now in
fear of what I will do when alone.

"His Protector " by Kevin M

“I love you,” Ellen whispered to her son.  It was night and she was tucking Ethan to bed.  Ellen pulled the covers up to his chin and gave a him a warm kiss goodnight.  This routine always comforted Ethan.

            “Please don’t go mommy, the monsters come out when you leave,” Ethan begged. Ellen always felt heartbroken when he said that every night, but she can’t let him be afraid of the dark forever.

 “I’m sorry, but I have to go.” she replied, trying to hide her pain, “I need to go to sleep in my bed too, I’ll see you right when you wake up in the morning.”

“But mom!”  Ethan began to cry.  “They’re gonna get me, the monsters.  They’re gonna eat me and hurt me, please Mom!”

“I got you a gift Ethan.” Ellen deflected, trying to distract him.  She pulled a coffee brown teddy bear from a plastic bag she brought. Upon seeing it, Ethan’s eyes instantly lit up, his tears quickly forgotten.  The bear wasn’t very large, but it was soft and fluffy.

“Is that for me?” Ethan hoped, eyes wide with wonder.

“Yes, but you have to promise to protect him.  He has no home and he needs someone to help him. Can you be brave for him?”

“Yes, I’ll always protect you” Ethan promised the bear.  He carefully grabbed his new friend and held him close.  Ellen got up and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Then the Monsters came out.

Long, creeping talons clawed at the windows.  The wood floors creaked as invisible monsters circled the bed.  Large, heavy footsteps boomed in the distance as giant creatures approached.  In the gaping closet, the black void stirred as wriggling monsters scurried within.

Ethan could sense these monsters coming after him.  They did this every night, scaring him, always trying to eat him.  But now, they’re after Teddy too.  Ethan knew he had to be strong for Teddy, but he was scared. Trying to keep his promise, Ethan tightly hugged his dear friend.

And as he squeezed teddy, the monsters began to shy away.  The creatures silently slithered away from Ethan, receding into the darkness, leaving Ethan with his first peaceful sleep.

"The Christmas Party" by Brianna K

During the first Christmas party I was only 13 years old. Every year I was forced to go to a neighborhood christmas party and I dreaded it because I knew he would be there. He always messed with me. He always pranked me. He always made fun of me and this year I knew he would be planning something horrible just like every other year. But halfway through the party there was no signs of him and I was worried that something even worse than I thought would happen. He pranks me all year but every Christmas is always the biggest prank to finish off the year. Past years included dyeing my hair an awful shade of orange, covering me in glue and throwing feathers all over, and even telling everyone I had somehow received ebola and to stay away. The party ended and he never showed up. For some reason I found myself disappointed because I didn’t get to see him. For the rest of the year he disappeared. I found out his parents sent him to boarding school. At first I was happy to not have him pranking me everyday, but a small part of me missed him. During the second, third, and even fourth christmas after he did not show up. Every year I waited for him to show up at least on the Christmas party, but he never did. Finally, the fifth Christmas party was around the corner and I was full of anticipation. His parents told me he was coming back. I was scared, yet excited at the same time. He would probably still prank me, but at least I’ll get to see him again. I realized once he left that even though I thought I hate him for the pranks, a small part of me secretly liked the attention since I lacked in the boys who interact with me department. The Christmas party finally came about and I was acting like a little kid on a sugar high. I was disappointed when I realized he wasn’t there, but I waited...and waited...and waited. I became increasingly sad and decided to sit outside in the backyard and watch the snow. After sitting there for awhile I heard a noise behind me and turned around just in time to see him. I was so shocked. He looked so different since the last time I saw him, so grown up and mature, yet he still had the same playful look in his eyes. 

“No prank this time?” I said acting as if I just say him yesterday.

“The party isn’t over yet. I may have something planned silly.” he said.

“Please spare me the pain and suffering this year.” I said pretending to be dramatic, knowing he wouldn’t prank me nearly as much as he did when he was younger. He was grown up now.

He laughed but that laugh quickly turned into a frown. “I  missed you.” he said.

“I missed you too.” I said. 

The silence became awkward. 

Before letting the awkwardness increase I quickly found my escape by saying I was going to use the bathroom and rushed inside the house. Of course I chickened out, like always. I was frustrated with myself and avoided him the rest of the night to spare myself of more awkwardness I was likely to cause if I had to engage in another conversation with him. After a few more snacks and watching people decorated in ugly Christmas sweaters try to dance to the never ending list of Christmas songs, I decided to leave. I was disappointed in myself yet again, but this always happens. I always get too nervous around people, more specifically guys. Sighing, I grabbed my coat and headed out into the snow towards my car. As I was walking I heard someone call my name behind me and I quickly turned around coming face-to-face with him. It happened so suddenly I didn’t know what was going on at first. He kissed me and not some quick little peck but a full on romance movie kiss with the head tilt and passion and everything. I guess you can say the Christmas party wasn’t so bad after all.

The end.

"My Speaking Problem" by Michael G

            In the year 2006, I was 6 years old starting 1st grade in August. I was very excited to start school because for starters, I can meet a lot of new people to be friends with and I get to start a new journey in becoming older. However, I was discouraged to talk to new people not because I was super shy, but I was afraid of the people’s judgment on how I would talk. Every time I talk, I would stutter a lot and stop mid-conversation because I would not know how to pronounce words correctly. I was talking to my mom about my issue and she said it was normal for a kid my age to have these issues and that I would talk correctly sooner or later in first grade. My mothers reply was comforting enough for me to gain my excitement for school again. The next morning, I was on my way to go school running a bit late hoping I would get to school on time, but the traffic to school was as bad as LA traffic which was highly unlikely. When I finally entered my school, I was 10 minutes late which was a great way to start off the first day of school! When I entered my classroom, they were doing a meet and greet to help the students get comfortable with the kids around them. I was actually excited to meet new kids in my class so I can make new friends, but when I was meeting kids in my new class I noticed how clearly they spoke so easily which lowered my self-esteem. However, I didn't want it to affect me so I tried to speak to the other kids in my classroom. I was talking to a kid in my classroom about how I was excited about school, but of course, I couldn’t say it clearly which resulted to the kid giving me an odd look saying: “what did you say?”. I was a bit embarrassed of his reply so I just left him wondering. Then, I talked to another kid hoping he would decipher what I was saying, then again I get the same response as the other kid. But, this time I tried to explain to him what I was saying but the kid gave up on me and left. Later, recess started, so I went to my cousin who is also in the same grade I am and I was talking to him with his friends. But, when I was trying to talk to my cousin about my day, his response ruined my self-esteem. He said, “What? Why do you always stutter? ...You talk funny.”. Then, his friends starting laughing at me. I was mad at my cousin for saying that in front of his friends, but I was more ashamed on how I talked. After recess, I forced myself to not talk the whole day to keep myself from being embarrassed. After school ended, I talked to my parents about my day, my parents then tried to help with my problem by calling the school to help me with how I talk. They said they would put me in a speech class to help with my problem tomorrow. The next day, I was embarrassed going into the speech class because I thought I was going to get insulted for being in the class, plus I thought I would be the only one in the class. However, there were a handful of kids with the same problem as me which felt really comforting. Also, the speech class teacher was really kind and helpful. From 1st-4th grade, I attended speech class and it was one of my favorite class I ever attended in elementary school. By 5th grade, was when I finally began to speak clearly and rarely stutter! Even though, it took awhile for me to overcome my speech problem, I am still thankful to this day that my parents helped me get into the speech class to fix my speech problem. Although, elementary school was not as easy and fun as I anticipated to be, I learned a lesson through all of it. Based on what I experienced, helped me realize to be considerate to the people who are experiencing problems of their own, judging people based on their problems can hurt the person emotionally. Instead, help them through their struggles, raise their self-esteem, and show positivity. 

"A Little Something to Enjoy" by Alyssa G

     “So what do you eat?” says someone when I tell them I don't eat meat.
When I made the choose to become a vegetarian, I did not know all the wonders it
would bring. I decided to become vegetarian four years ago when I saw a video on facebook
about a slaughterhouse. I was traumatized. Slaughterhouses are places where animals are
slaughtered for food. As years progressed, I became more awoke about the food industry and all
the cruelty that happens and I became more aware and cautious about all of the products I
choose to eat.
     There has been one trillion animals killed this year and that is including marine life as
well according to killedsofar.com.
     There are tons of advantages of being a vegetarian and as well as disadvantages, but the
good outweighs the bad. Choosing this diet was not for the health reasons, but for the animals.
Slowly, but surely I am transitioning to a vegan. This lifestyle is not for everyone and I do not
wish to force it upon anyone, but it does not hurt to try it.
The process of becoming a vegetarian was not as hard as I thought. There are a lot of
supplements I eat that are substitutes for meat. To be honest, It feels as nothing has changed. I
thought I would miss eating meat and other animal products, but I do not. The meals I used to
eat four years ago has not really changed, but making sure I still get the protein I need.
     This recipe I created and made below is so delicious that everyone will enjoy. Even if you
are not a vegetarian and decide to make it, you will enjoy it.

The list of Ingredients you will need are
Barilla penne pasta, veggie
Bell peppers
Onions
Gralic
Tomatoes
Cilantro
Spinach
Romaine
Iceberg lettuce
Prego mushroom spaghetti sauce
limes
Olive oil
Italian dressing
(all of these ingredients can be picked up at your local grocery market)

     To make the pasta, First boil the pasta for 15 minutes with a teaspoon of olive oil. Next, dice up
bell peppers, onions, garlic, tomatoes into small pieces and saute them in olive oil in a skillet for
7 minutes. After, strain and rinse the pasta noodles and add prego mushrooms spaghetti sauce
to it, add the veggies to the sauce and add garlic salt, black pepper and mix it all together. After
squeeze just a little bit lime juice on top and mix.

     To make the salad, mix cilantro, fresh garlic, lime juice and a half cup of Italian dressing for 4
minutes in the blender until it’s a smooth consistency. Next, chop up spinach, romaine, and
iceberg lettuce up in thin slices. After, mix the lettuce and dressing together and add lime juice
on top and mix together. Adding the right amount of lime juice is up to you.
Adding the touch of lime gives a refreshing citrus taste, that will make your mouth water and
wanting more, trust.

    I hope you enjoy.

"Being Present" by Raisa M

     While I was doing my calculus homework, I checked the time and it was 4:15 A.M. At
this point I was extremely frustrated. Only halfway done with my homework and only 5 hours of
sleep, my inefficiency to get my work done has reached an all-time high. Plus, I had to get to
school by seven which meant I would have to get ready in half an hour..only I realized that there
I had to go a yoga class with my dad at 5:15. So with a mind full of regret, I forced myself out of
bed, grabbed my new yoga mat that I purchased the day before (at least the color was purple),
and I went to yoga. Once my dad and I got into the gym and into the yoga classroom, I looked
around the room and the first thought that came into my mind was how the room looked like the
practice rooms from Dancing with the Stars since it had a mirror facing the entrance of the door.
     Additionally, there was only one other person in the class and she was elderly. So after getting
my bearings I layed down my yoga mat. After a short while, the yoga instructor came in and
introduced herself and she turned on calm instrumental music. Her first instruction was to start
Ou-jai breathing, which is basically the continuous rhythm of deep breathing in through the nose
and out the exact same route. One pose that the class had to do was to touch their toes. I
couldn’t touch my toes and there was an elderly woman next to me that was able to touch her
toes. It’s embarrassing for me being a 16 year old girl to not touch my toes while a woman in
her sixties was able to touch her own toes.Throughout the yoga lesson, we had to do some
very challenging poses such as upward dog, downward dog, and warrior pose. While
performing these poses I found out that I kind of have a small humpback when I stand up
straight. At that moment I started to think about all the years I have carried a heavy backpack or
have hunched over in a chair. At that point in time, I realized how destitute my health was and
how much I was disrespecting myself. Then, near the end of the lesson, the yoga instructor told
us to choose a pose that was most comfortable to us. So still being a little sleep deprived, I
layed down on my back. The yoga instructor said that staying still was the hardest pose for most
people because of all the racing thoughts in a person’s mind when people stay idol.
     Unfortunately, she was right because I started to think about being on time for my zero period,
the large amount of homework hadn’t finished, and the fact that as the year goes on I am
becoming more irresponsible. As a result, I became very tense and frustrated. However, after a
few seconds, I started to realize that physically I am not in my thoughts. Instead, I am in a
Fitness 19 in a room lying a on yoga mat with my eyes closed. Eventually, I started to calm
down and instead of worrying about the future I started to live in the present for the first time in 4
months. After the lesson, I found that my mood had improved and I was more enthusiastic for
the day ahead. I found that by living in the present and clearing my mind I was able to become
more efficient in completing my work and putting forth my best work possible. Additionally, I was
excited to go next week’s yoga class.

"The One Who Got Away" by Imani S

I don’t remember everything, but the details I do remember—I wish I hadn’t.

            One Saturday morning in the middle of October during my sophomore year of high school, around ten to be precise, I awoke to a text about a friend who I considered family:

“Jordan got into an accident.”

Stunned, I frantically began replying with questions, “Where is he? How did this happen? Is he okay?”

Her reply: “He’s in a coma at the hospital.”

Now I’ve only experienced one other death five years prior, but being so young, I was oblivious to the long-term effects this kind of event would have on my life. Upon hearing the news about Jordan, I texted two of our mutual friends because at the time, I didn’t know how to reply; I felt helpless. What could I have said to make her feel better? Suggesting my friends and I visit Jordan in the hospital the next day, I was the last one to arrive. Hospitals have always given me weird vibes and I try to avoid them as much as possible, but I knew this was something I had to do. When I got there, the halls were filled with watery eyes and swollen faces of family and friends. There were quick embraces and small talk before I was supposed to go in to see Jordan. Wanting one of my friends to go with me, but not wanting them to experience the trauma again, I sufficed to going with my mom. His room was only a few doors down from the major sliding doors which separated patients from the public, but I was still anxious. As we made our way down the hall, I quietly gave myself a pep talk which insisted on me not crying when I got there. I stepped into the room and saw Jordan, his family was trying to seem somewhat okay and greeted me with slight smiles and warm hugs. I rubbed Jordan’s legs because it was the only part of his body that was exposed, I wanted to feel his warmth; he was completely covered in bandages from head to toe. As I looked at his swollen face, I couldn’t believe this was his reality. I didn’t cry, I had to be strong for his family. He reacted to my touch by moving his limbs and caused his machine to start beeping due to his brain activity and a team of nurses rushed in to try to calm him. When they left, Jordan’s family asked if I wanted to pray for him. Being religious at the time, I kindly accepted. “Dear God,” I didn’t make it past these two words before I broke down, squeezing the hands that were interlocked with mine. My mom finished the prayer and when she was done, had to nearly carry me out because I was such a mess. I couldn’t control the flow of tears, let alone my body. Once we were out the major sliding doors, she took me to a corner of the room I buried my face in her arms, so as to not make my friends cry. It didn’t work and before I knew it, my friends had joined me in a large embrace and we stayed there for a while. After a few minutes, we wiped our tears and just sat with each other, not talking, but appreciating each other's presence. During the week I made frequent visits and my hope grew for a positive outcome when I learned Jordan was improving, he could do this. The following Friday I visited with four of my friends and was surprised at the atmosphere of the waiting room, everyone was smiling and laughing. They were all relying on faith that he would pull through—I was too. I left in a better mood than usual and even enjoyed the rest of my night. Sunday came around and so did the text that made my heart drop:

 “He’s gone.”

“No. No. No.”

I didn’t want to believe the words that were right in front of my face. No. It’s not possible, he was getting better, he was supposed to make it.

            Jordan: the guy who could play any instrument he laid his hands upon, who had a great sense of humor, whose voice could put you to sleep, who ALWAYS put others before himself.

            Above all else, this tragic event made me appreciate the people in my life even more. The compassion and love that Jordan shared with me made me want to share it with others as well. I learned that things aren’t always going to go the way I want them to, and I’m still not sure why this had to happen, but I have to trust that in due time, everything will make sense.

“My Escape” by Joseph V

What is an escape? The dictionary definition states that it is “an act of breaking free from confinement or control.” Now is an escape a physical or mental place? I believe for everyone you ask that question to it would be a different answer. Maybe for some it’s to create art, or to read a book, or write in a diary. For me growing up I was always stressed out to do good in everything I do whether it was my grades or in sports. I always felt the pressure as when I was younger I was never the biggest, or strongest, or smartest person, but I had to work hard to get where I am today. That hard work came at the price of stress. Many sleepless nights I’d spend just thinking about how I can’t fail, about how I can’t afford to get lazy in my life. Through all this the one thing that’s been my escape was baseball. The one place where I can tune everything out and no one or thing outside that field mattered. All that mattered was what happened then and there in that moment. The diamond was my zone where everything in my life didn’t matter to me for those 6 to 7 innings; to be able to do what I love and not worry about the stress or the pressure of every other aspect of my life. When I’m on that field I am just focused on what’s around me. The feeling of the loose dirt as I move on the field with the crunch from each time a cleat enters the ground. The feeling the air going past you as you run down a ball or to make a diving play and slide across the soft green grass. When coming up to bat and feeling zoned in on the ball, not being able to hear anybody in the crowd or anything around is the greatest sensation. Hearing the buzz of the ball being thrown and the swing that follows next. All you hear is a ping and as you take off running you regain your senses and can hear the crowd cheering again. Whether having a good or bad game the sport is forgiving. No one will remember what happened within time. There is no true stress, just you and the ball. There’s always another at bat. There will always be another play to be made. There is always another game. This is my escape. When each game ends, I know it’s back to reality, back to school and back to worries. I wait each week looking to the end when I can get back to playing. I wish I can stay on that field forever but nothing ever lasts forever. The sport will never end but a day will come where my time on the field stops. It’s different for everyone. Some people know and some deny the fact but it will end. So, I enjoy my short time in the game, and I take advantage of every chance I get with it. The chance to be in my comfort zone. My escape from all the pressures of life.

"Thoughts" by Lauren J

     I knew that I wasn’t normal. I knew this world, where I lived it was not who I am. Who am I
exactly? Well, my niece once said to me, “All I know is that you’re my Auntie and you’re a
weirdo.”
     “Am I? Maybe that’s who I am, is that all I’m destined to be? No. I want to be great, I want to
know who I am, just what I’m living for.”
I think to myself, “How will I achieve these goals of mine, they seem so simple. All I have to do is
just be myself and everything will turn out just how it’s supposed to. I think… Wait how is it
supposed to turn out? Who am I?”
     My mind starts to reminisce on the times I would take the train down to the city just to stroll past
various boutiques and shops. I love it there, I love being surrounded by tall buildings with
everyone in their best attire no matter what their day entailed. I felt like I knew who I was that
day, my mind stopped racing, my mind stopped circling back and forth. I felt calm, I felt like me.
That day I further understood, I understood what I had to do, who I was. But, I returned back to
my home. There were no tall buildings, no glamourous storefronts, the pace slowed down and
my mind sped up.
     “Okay. I am here, I want to be there oh how I do; I felt at ease. What a feeling, I want to feel that
feeling. What do I have to do to feel that feeling. Nothing here, where I’m at right now, none of
my depressing daily routines give me that feeling. What was that feeling? I felt like me, I still
don’t know who that is yet. Am i just weird, am I already who I am and I don't even know it. I
would know, I will know when I feel that feeling… oh what a feeling.”
     “My parents are worried. I reside in my room with the same solemn face. My friends are worried
too. I’m never really hungry, I’m never really happy. I feel like I’m fading. My heart doesn’t feel
as it should. At least how i think it should feel. My mind never stops, maybe I’m going crazy. I
want to be me. I hope this isn’t me. Who am I… I don’t feel good.”
     The only escape I receive is in my art, well I love clothes they give me ‘that feeling’. It’s crazy
how fabrics stitched together by a thin piece of thread give me ‘that feeling’.
I spend my days working on who I am, or as others may view it sketching my very own line,
placing my creative ideas down on paper with charcoal. I’ve decided I will be great, I will be who
I’m destined to be, I will be the girl who felt whole as she explored downtown. That is me,
fashion made me so happy. Hey, I guess you could say I figured out what happiness is too.
‘That feeling’ made me happy.

"Mother and Son Bonding" by Dylan M

     Day to day, month to month, year to year, I am asked only one simple question. Why are
you not doing the dishes? I contemplate that question as if it's my own identity and respond to it
as if it's my only priority in life. Because if not and If I have a slight tone in my voice, I will be
grounded for a week. So as you can see the sarcasm in that statement was very very minimal,
well, depending on your perspective I guess. Everyday I live my life one small step at a time,
negating negativity and judgmental comments along the way. The things that matter in life,
should be learned and accepted by only you and not society telling you so. You can really learn a
lot about yourself, when you dismiss all exterior opinions that are focused on your identity and
learn from your faulty decisions and mistakes. Everyday, before I go to school, I use positive
reinforcement as a coping mechanism to happiness. I learned one day as I was pondering my
funny relationship with my mom, that mind is certainly over matter. If you tell yourself or think
about a certain thought, you inevitably end up believing it. So how you reflect positivity, is
certainly how you are going to receive positivity. With that amazing transcendental remark in
your minds, I want to lead this to a funny, but simultaneously crazy story.
     As I woke up on a beautiful sunday morning, waiting to go outside to smell the roses, I
was stopped by my mom to hear her say, “ Make me eggs and sausage. I have so much work to
do before my book is finished! I responded with, “you're a mom, a son shouldn’t even know how
to cook at my age.” (Despite the fact that I actually do is irrelevant, because that's not suppose to
be my job.) Anyways, she responded with, “Come into my room!!” She made me stay in her
room, even though, I was stressed and had a million things on my mind to hear her say make me
breakfast, The funny thing is she could decided to say, “alright I guess I will make them my
own,”( but unfortunately that's not how things ended.) After an hour of arguing over something
she could of done, I still wasn’t able to leave her room to cool off and talk to her like a normal
human being. Our argument, idiotically lead to her to say, ” I’m going to put you in the juvenile
system and call the police.” Soon after, without doing anything wrong, (Certainly Debatable) she
called my dad to say, “get over here, your son is acting crazy.” Keep in mind that I had an
economics test to study for, a badminton club meeting at 7:00 the next day, and mass quantities
of homework to do. But what started as my mom telling me to make her breakfast turned to me
being kicked out on a day that was the most stressful. After everything, I had to apologize, if I
mean if, I wanted to stay there that night.
   This true story, (Trust me it's certainly true, with very little emphasis at all because I
really don't need it.) gives me the opportunity to see how perception affects your mindset,
because if I would of let this scenario affect me mentally, most likely I would start seeing reality
differently, similarly to my mom. Our relationship is very funny, but the moment I walked into
school, I said, “How was your guy’s weekend, mine was great by the way, thanks for asking and
took a test.”(Definitely not sarcasm, okay maybe a little) That's it, no matter how hard life can be
along with very unreasonable mothers, you need to learn that what people do and say about you
as a person shouldn’t be acknowledge. If so, your mindset will only see the negativity that people
reflect, rather than the mass quantities of positive hearts that are highlighted overall.

"Unititled" by Natalie M

     Ella’s first session began with the strange old woman. It was a tuesday afternoon, and
she was confused and fearful of what would occur. Skeptical really. How was she supposed to
tell a stranger what was wrong? How was she supposed to explain to a stranger what was going
on in her head when she couldn’t even process it herself?
     When she had walked in, the soft smells of warm vanilla and sweet strawberries
wrapped around her. She sat down in the corner loveseat which wasn’t very comfortable but
wasn’t too stiff as well. The typical small talk occurred and then the woman asked her about her.
And she began..
     “At the age of 16 I had told myself I had experienced my first love. It was despicable. I
was brought up to be strong, independent, even selfish, when it came to my feelings. And every
single speck and spot of that was torn away from me leaving a void within me so extreme I felt..
hollow and cold. Since the very beginning, I had preached to myself and others a more cynical
view about this "feeling" of love. And the idea of "trust" Hell yes it is a game. A waste of time.
Even an excuse where you stop loving yourself and when all of you is entirely consumed with
the up keeping of the person you adore. For the one who is now devouring your life and
thoughts that were once focused on the prosperity of you. It’ an inevitable thing. Three words
are thrown at one another more carelessly than a premature little boy crossing the street to
chase the puppy he just thought was cute and would make him... happy. How often can one
mistake this feeling till they realize it’s all a.. a farce. I’d like to argue that love is a choice. And
I’d argue this until that next boy or girl comes along and messes you up again. Things happen. I
say that to everyone who I notice is being sucked into the oblivion of having too much hope. “Oh
my goodness please be careful you're bound to get let down,” my thoughts keep telling me. Call
me cynical, call me a realist, call me a damn pessimist but I'm not going to walk on that pretty
path beneath that fake rainbow when I know it was just raining. You know you're about to step in
puddles right? Rainbows are temporary anyway. Just like "happiness."
     But then there’s this, I will never be at least temporarily "happy." I will never fall so deep I
feel as though I've entered another world. Eternal happiness is not real and it does not last
forever. Nothing is genuine. I'm going to be a second guesser all my life wondering if giving
myself would've lead to even the slightest genuine grin upon my face. So that the creases made
when I smile on the inner sides of my cheek would then leave permanent wrinkles symbolizing a
merriment in my well being. Do you ever see those people with those marks upon their face and
think.. "wow, they must smile and laugh a lot." No?.. I do. I’d like a few wrinkles along the sides
of my mouth. I’d like those crows to press their tiny feet
along the sides of my eyes. If I were to obtain them, it'd be from laughing and mocking all of you
whom let yourselves fall weak. Fools... I wish I could be one. I blame my family. I blame my
mother. I blame my father. I blame those around me who have failed. It all ends poorly. And
seeing it has kept my eyes open so wide they don’t even burn anymore if I don't blink. Dream
selling. That's all this lifetime has to offer and everyone is damned if they don't stray away from
getting what they want. “Don't try to be happy what are you doing? It’s not real! “ the thoughts
keep yelling. Let me not, no, let me not place my hands near the fire. Yes, you’ll be warm but I'm
warning you, it’s windy and this raging fire is going to burn you as soon as those flames are
blown in every direction consuming even the strongest of beings. I like the cold.
     I’m awake and I see what the world is really like. All of you are still sleepwalking and it’s
okay. All it takes is a bump on your head against that wall full of nails or a trip down these stairs
into eternal damnation for you to realize it's all sugar coated lies. At least that’s what the
thoughts say. A person, I, can wake up one morning and want the most out of life then realize
that what I want... isn't even what I want. "If you keep telling yourself this, you just might start
believing it" I've been telling myself that I'm happy for the past 7 years and I still feel my smile
deteriorating off the side of my face. Oh my apologies let me fix it.. Again.
     Enough about the truth. Back to how all of you are fools, back to how you all are able to
let yourselves have hope, back to how all of you are willing to live and take chances, back to
how all of you still think that genuine happiness is obtainable, back to how all of you allow
yourselves to love. Back to how all of you are still grasping onto the concept of well being so
tight it’s like the fingers on each hand and life have interlinked themselves into a gate made of
steel keeping out the monsters that can break you!
     All of you are fools.. And I still wish I was one.
     The woman looked at Ella as though she had opened a door in her head. One that lead
to new ways of thinking and one that brought about so many questions. This wasn’t a child who
needed help. She was a child who was fearful, or maybe even aware.

"The Second Circle " by Geraldine D

 

            It was the fifth of May at 8:50 in the morning; the beginning of hell. Every morning was always the same: get out of bed, take a shower, get dressed, make coffee. Except something was off. The house was unusually quiet. My wife wasn’t around to nag at me about the bills and how I never help with chores around the house. Long story short, we got into an argument last night so she left to spend the night at a friend’s house. Not only was the house quiet, but the strong wind and rainy weather was odd since I live in California, but then again the weather is always changing here so maybe it wasn’t too odd.

            Before going to work, I decided to drop by Vons to shop for some groceries and flowers to make amends in hopes that my wife will forgive me for the fight last night. As I walked into Vons, I noticed that it was eerily quiet and the usual music that played throughout the store wasn’t on. I walked around to find a worker to double check if it was open, but all of the checkout lanes were empty. After a minute or two of walking around, I finally found someone who was standing by the door. He didn’t look like he worked here. His pale complexion and dead gaze were a little freaky, but I thought he might have some answers for me.

            “Hi! I was wondering if you could help me figure out if this place is open yet?”

            “It is open, but only to those above,” replied the stranger.

The stranger’s reply was unsettling, but unlike any normal person who would attempt to leave as fast as they could, I continued to ask questions. He could be some sort of psycho, but curiosity got the best of me.

            “What’s the ‘above’?”

            “The above is where the living dwell.”

The more questions I asked, the more twisted his responses got. None of it made any sense.

            “But I am the living. What do you mean?”

            “Your death occurred four years ago today. You are of the many misfortunate who

 ended up in the second circle.”

I froze. I died? The second circle? No no no. It was all coming back to me.

It was late at night and I was driving after the fight with my wife. I don’t remember where I was heading, but I wanted to get as far away as I can from the house and forget the awful acts I’d committed. Knuckles bruised, the foul breath of alcohol, yelling, crying. I don’t know what had come over me. The amount of power that I held in my hands gave me a sense of dominance and strength; the power that I’d long wished to have ever since I was a kid. If only those who would pick and laugh at me could see me in that moment.

Though I remember my crimes, there was no way I could be dead. I have to apologize to my wife.

“How do I return to the above?”

“You can not. The punishment for the sins you have committed are everlasting.”

“You aren’t real. None of this is real. I’m only dreaming.”

I ran out of the store and got into my car. In an effort to ease my mind, I turned on the Christmas radio. Static. Is this really a dream or am I just crazy? Heading home, I never noticed the passengers in the other cars because of the wind and rain. As I was at a stop light, what I made out to be a man turned his head to look at me, but one thing was missing: his face. I stepped on the pedal and sped all the way back home. I hurried into bed, but it was difficult to fall asleep after encountering that strange man. I took a couple of sleeping pills to help speed up my disappearance from this weird alternate universe. I drifted off deeper and deeper into sleep.

            Finally, it was the next morning. The house was still, my wife was gone, and the weather outside continued to rage. I checked the date and time- May 5th, 8:50 A.M.

"A Fallen Star" by Mia B

In a particular universe, the same but so different from ours, most stars died, blooming as they lost light, their core getting colder and colder, turning into stardust and nothingness.  But some stars fell.  They fell with great intensity, staining the darkness around them with their own unique and bright colors, until they eventually landed, leaving blaze and destruction after them. It was the only trace left of them. 

One star, beautiful and brighter than the rest, beaming at those who laid eyes upon it when it was visible in the night sky, had fell.  It's shine had not faded, gleaming and glittering and never losing any of its past beauty.  It had landed on this universe’s equivalent of Earth, and the flames consumed the planet, burning so hot and intense that no one had dared to even lay their eyes directly upon it for fear of being blinded.

Centuries after the incident of the fallen star, a floating city was built overlooking the lost planet that was still burning.  A young boy, with wide eyes desperately taking everything it could reach and a jaw permanently dropped with awe and curiosity, lived at the edge of this floating city.  Every night, after working, the boy would climb atop the short wall separating his home and the edge of the city, looking down with an insatiable inquisitiveness, dying to know what life was like down below, as the planet was permanently covered by what appeared to be thick, dark clouds. His sister always pulled him back and yelled at him whenever she caught him trying to climb the wall, saying that it was forbidden. He didn’t understand; how dangerous could it possibly be?

So for years the boy had planned out his grand adventure.  A slightly torn satchel full of essential items, such as his favorite yet worn-out doll that just had to come see the unknown with him with its one button eye; a small, used sketchpad with a few pages left along with a few colored pencils so he could draw what he saw and show them proudly to his sister; and a cozy but ragged blanket to sleep in during the cold nights during his trip. All were stored quietly in the corner of his room, waiting patiently for the day it would finally be used. He saved up diligently for the highest quality, 75 cent journal so he could keep track of all his adventures in a neat place.

A few months later, in the middle of a dark night that was illuminated solely by the stars, the boy gathered his satchel, stuffing his newly bought journal inside of it, and hastily put it on.  He climbed up his backyard wall as he always did, and looked down with curiosity as he always did.  However, this time, he was filled with excitement that ran up and down his body and a thirst for adventure.  His smile was brighter than all the stars in the night sky.

Then with that same bright smile, he fell.