"The Accident" by Karen L.

     When I was about seven years old, my family and I had just moved from our small, outgrown apartment into a bigger home. I remember not being scared whatsoever. Instead, an overwhelming feeling of joy had been following me since I heard the news. Of course I was sad to leave my friends behind, but honestly, all I could think about was how the real estate agent gave me warm chocolate chip cookies during the open house tour. That’s how I knew this was going to lead to something good.
     Our house was brand new and smelt strongly of the paint which had just been applied to the walls. After we had moved everything in and got settled, my parents told me that my first day of school would be on Monday. I was extremely thrilled to be able to meet new people, yet I started to become a bit anxious. My mom reassured me that everything would be okay and that I would make friends quickly, and she was right.
     My first day at the new school was a great one. I remember all of the girls in my class rushing to me and asking dozens of questions about myself. “Where are you from?” “Why did you move here?” “Are you Filipino?” It was great. I’ve never felt more like a celebrity than I did on that day. It didn’t take long for me to get to know everyone and feel comfortable. At recess, I played tag with my new friends and at lunch, they invited me to sit with them. My goal was to become friends with everyone in my class, and for the most part, I was successful. Key words, “for the most part.”
     There was one boy in particular who made it clear that he did not want to be friends. I don’t even think he had any friends, if we’re being honest. Instead of playing with everyone else, he would stay by himself and observe the different types of bugs that he could find in the field. No one was close to him, but they all envied how smart he was for his age. I remember thinking to myself that I would befriend this boy if it was the last thing I did. Except, it wasn’t as dramatic as it sounds. I just really wanted to be friends with him.
In the weeks that passed, I tried to get to know him better, but to no avail. It seemed as if he was purposely trying to reject my friendship, which kind of made me sad. I learned that a few girls had a crush on him because he could draw houses really well, but to be honest, I liked him because he looked like Robin from Teen Titans. I was just about to give up when one day, something strange had happened. Instead of keeping to himself as usual, he was playing on the monkey bars, which was something that I resented at the time. Frantically, I left my group and rushed over to the playground. Amidst the shock of seeing him like this, I yelled at him, “DO YOU WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH ME?” He ignored me. Now my feelings were hurt for real. I thought that he must not have heard me the first time, so I asked him again in a slightly more polite, but still very eager, manner. He answered, “I’ll be friends with you if you can beat me to the other side of these monkey bars.” I knew that monkey bars were not my greatest strength, but the Sagittarius in me would not let me pass up this competition. “Bet,” I replied.
     As I was climbing up the steps to reach the bar, I knew that I would regret this decision. We started the competition and he was doing laps compared to me. I blamed my parents for my lack of upper body strength. I asked him for a rematch, to which he agreed. Just as he was

about to get to the end, I reached out with my legs and tried to kick him. It landed, and he fell to the ground. The loud popping sound was an indicator that I had made a mistake.
He began to cry whilst clutching his arm. All the commotion had gathered the attention of our teacher and students began surrounding us trying to see what happened. He told them that he was playing on the slide and had somehow managed to fall off of it, and that’s when I realized I was in love with this boy. He literally could’ve had me kicked out of the school but instead, he chose to cover for me, even after I had just broken his arm. A true king.
     In the few days that he was gone, I was filled with worry. I didn’t tell anyone what happened because I was so scared of getting in trouble. I thought that maybe the injuries were so bad that he had to get a prosthetic arm, or even worse, that he would never be able to draw houses again. To my surprise, he came back with only a fractured wrist which was wrapped in a neon green cast. He told the class that he would be able to draw again in about six weeks. I was so relieved. He asked everyone in our class to sign his cast, which they did. When it was my turn to sign it, I decided to do the unthinkable.
     I finished writing my name in a blue, scented marker that smelt like cotton candy. Then, I gave him a fat kiss on the cheek. The entire class gasped, including me, as though not even I could believe what I had just done. He screamed and I had never been more embarrassed in my life. I was about to tell him that I was sorry, but then he yelled, “EWW WHY DID YOU DO THAT!!!” which made me slightly angry. I told him it was just a joke and this dude decides to tell the entire class the real reason he broke his wrist. Unbelievable. My classmates were flabbergasted and I could see my teacher in the back of the room trying not to laugh. It was terrible. After that, my parents received a phone call and I just knew that I would be in big trouble.
     In conclusion, the moral of this story is that you should never kick someone off of monkey bars, even if they’re about to beat you in a race because they might fall and get injured. Also, do not try to offer your friendship to someone who doesn’t want it, because they will tell everyone that you kicked them off monkey bars and you will receive consequences. Lastly, if you do end up causing someone to break their wrist, please just apologize and do not try to kiss them because that will only make things worse, speaking from personal experience.

"It's Your Lucky Day! New Posts are Here!"

Remember to read all of the selections for this month --   comments are for this latest group only (no earlier months/submissions, or last year's submissions)  NO ANONYMOUS COMMENTS.  Be sure your name is attached or included in the text book with your comment.

All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group  (March writers).  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 April 2.  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!

"Jambalaya" by Jordan D

How to make the best Jambalaya in your home. Jambalaya is a Louisiana-Origin dish that has both Spanish and French influence. Jambalaya was created out of necessity, it’s has been said that it originated from the popular dish Paella which is a Spanish dish. It became a staple dish in the south due to large quantities being cooked in one large pot over a wood fire. You would often see this dish at occasions like rallies, weddings, and family reunion. Jambalaya is definitely a must try if you ever visit Louisiana and if you appreciate this southern dish. 

The dish mainly consist of vegetables, spices, meat, seafood, stock, and rice. There are two types of ways to prepare Jambalaya one of the ways is Cajun and the other is Creole. The difference between the two is that Creole includes tomatoes getting its other name known as “Red Jambalaya”. Creole culture can be referred to anyone who has french, spanish, african, or caribbean heritage. In both preparations they both include the holy trinity of vegetables (onion, bell peppers, and celery) while the meat is being cooked together. The Jambalaya that I would be making is the Creolo way or Red Jambalaya the reason being is that it has more flavor than the Cajun Jambalaya. There are many ways you can make it the opinions are endless. A lot of different combinations to choose from and every time you make it will always taste delicious. 

A couple years ago my sister Leeanne or also known as Ms.Do dragged me to a place called Ritter’s Steam Kettle Cooking that specialize in southern cooking. That’s my first time trying actually southern food not counting Popeyes. Don’t get me wrong I love Popeyes it’s my favorite fried chicken place, but I know it’s not authentic southern food. The first thing I tried was the pan roast which I gotta say it wasn’t my cup of tea. When Ms.Do first talked about it she hyped it up on how it tasted like heaven hit your mouth. In reality that was all just a lie. It was very disappointing, but it didn’t stop me from trying other things. That’s when I found the legendary Jambalaya and that tasted like heaven in my mouth. Ever since then I’ve been begging my mom to make it, but she refuses to make it. Being desperate I told myself that just cook it yourself and stop being a child. When I started to make the dish it was very scary due to the fact it was my first time actually cooking something instead of ramen. 

Ingredients

• -  Shrimp
  
• -  Garlic
  
• -  Green onion
  
• -  Medium size onion
  
• -  Three strips of bacon
  
• -  Two cups of white rice
  
• -  Two bell peppers
  
• -  One can of tomatoes and two tablespoons of tomato paste
  
• -  Andouille sausage 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

• -  Celery
  
• -  Two knobs of butter
  
• -  Chicken broth
  
• -  Carrots
  
• -  Crabs
  
• -  spices
  Utensils
  

- large and small pot - Ladle
- Knife 

The First step of making Jambalaya is cut and peel all the ingredients that are shown above. All the vegetables have to be diced up except for carrots they will be sliced up into one inch knobs. Next, is to behead and peel the shrimp and toss the head in the large pot with olive oil and stir them around for a minute or two. Then, add the crab to the pot leaving it there for about a minute afterwards add the chicken broth place the stove on high and heat it up to a boil thus creating your seafood stock. 

Now time to add the carrots to the pot and reduce the heat bringing it down to a simmer and let that sit for about two hours. The best part it’s time to introduce some fat you’re gonna get the three strips of bacon and cut them into one inch strips and toss that into a separate pot. The bacon is gonna sizzle and let it brown while that happens you’re gonna introduce the holy trinity which consists of celery, onion, and bell peppers and just add them to the pot. 

The rice comes next, you’re gonna need two cups of white rice and make sure you wash it two times to get rid of that scratchy taste. Then toss that to the small pot where the holy trinity is at and the goal is to toast the rice and wanna keep stirring the ingredients so that it doesn’t get stuck to the bottom of the pot. While the rice is being toasted you’re gonna add the diced up garlic and green onion sprinkle it on top and keep on stirring.
Now for the Andouille sausages you wanna sliced them up and add them to the pot as well. You wanna give it one nice stir make sure you dig from the bottom so that the none of the ingredients get stuck resulting in burnt food. After, that you wanna add the one can of tomatoes and two tablespoons of tomato paste. Remember the seafood stock that you made in the

beginning it’s time to extract two cups of it and add it to the small pot. Now for the spices add some salt, pepper, oregano, and paprika.Give it one finally stir and place the lid on top and cook it for about 30 minutes. Time for the last piece the shrimp add that to the pot and turn off the heat, because we will be using the residual heat to cook the shrimp. When you add the shrimp don’t stir it, but take your ladle and go from the bottom back to the top. Now for the best part it’s time to eat the best Jambalaya in the whole world. 

"Excused" by Camryn G

     Okay so what had happened was… I was on my way to school this morning. Mind you it was a beautiful Monday morning, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, my hair was done, and I was just enjoying life. So anyways I’m just minding my own business, key phrase “minding my own business” and as I’m crossing the street a busted car is coming around the corner real fast and almost hit me. I swear my life flashed before my eyes because in that moment I thought I was going to die. But once I got over the shock of me nearly losing my life, I was heated because the driver was doing like 80 mph in a residential area for what? So I’m MAD and the driver of the car had the nerve to stop and ask if I was okay. At this point I’m even more infuriated because why is she gonna sit there asking me stupid questions? She almost ended my existence but then got the nerve to ask me if I was okay.

     Now what I should’ve done was walk away, you know because I’m a child of God. But I started going off on her. I was feelin real bold on this particular morning so I started getting loud and in a slight lapse of judgement I picked up a rock and threw it at the back of her car. You see at the time I didn’t realize how bad of an idea that was until ol’ girl stepped out the car. It was at this point that I realized I messed up because, and I kid you not she was built like an NFL linebacker. She was a BIG girl, I swear she was like 6’3 and weighed about 250 pounds, like she was big for no reason. So now I’m kinda scared because I knew I was about to get tossed, but my momma didn’t raise a punk. So I stood up straight and kept talking. I was going off on her too calling her all types of names and then I balled up my fists and said, “But you don’t want the issue though.” Now this was my next mistake because apparently she did want the issue because she charged at me. The ground started trembling as she barreled towards me like a an Amtrak train. It was then that I realized I had two options; either stay there and be pummeled to death or drop my backpack and run. You best believe I dropped my bag so quick and dipped. I ran all the way down the street and you’ll never guess what happened. I got hit by a car. And that’s why  I’m late to first period.

"It's Never Too Hot For Soup" by Grecia S

It's Never Too Hot For Soup

In January´s batch of blogs, there was one with instructions for Pho. While reading the blog, it brought back nostalgic memories of the times when I would cook with my mother. So I decided to write my blog on a similar dish called ¨Caldo de pollo¨ (If you translate it, it will say chicken broth, but it is just chicken soup).

Growing up it was never too hot to have soup. It could be 110 degrees and my mother would still serve us a big bowl of chicken soup. When we refused to eat it, she would threaten us with ¨Si no te lo comes te lo hecho por la oreja¨(Translation: If you do not eat it, I will shove it down your ear). It doesn't really make sense, but it gets the message across.

           

      İLets Begin!

What Is Needed

• Supplies
• Large pot
• Knife(Size does not matter, but choosing a small one can make it harder when cutting the meat)
• Ingredients
• Salt(2 spoonfuls)
• Water(2 cups)
• Cilantro(2 branches)
• Squash(3)
• Celery(2 sticks)
• Garlic(4 cloves)
• White onion(½)
• Carrots(3)
• An entire chicken

*CHOP ALL VEGETABLES BEFORE BEGINNING. THE SIZE OF THE CUTS DEPENDS ON PREFERENCES. BUT LARGER CUTS WILL TAKE LONGER TO COOK. *

Steps

                                                                               I.                  You must first cut the chicken into pieces so it can be easier to deal with.

1. If you are having trouble deciding where to cut the chicken, use this picture to help. (The image belongs to Martha Stewart from How To Cut A Whole Chicken)

II.                   Then place the pieces of chicken into the pot with the salt and water. When choosing a chicken for your soup, I always prefer going organic because it tastes better. Where I was raised, it was the job of the smaller children to catch the chicken and snap its neck (The chickens were raised at home to make sure it was 100% fresh), but it isn’t necessary to kill your own chicken because we have supermarkets, unless you want to go chase around chickens, then go right aHEAD. (buh dum tss).

2. Once the water begins to boil, foamy residue from the chicken will begin to rise to the surface. It is important to remove the residue so the soup does not end up with a lot of fat.


1. The residue will look like this(image came from Just One Cookbook)

III.                  Now add the garlic, onion, and celery to pot. (Be careful when adding these ingredients. The hot broth can burn the skin, so it is important to carefully add the ingredients.) Then bring down the heat to a medium, so the chicken can cook with the garlic, onion, and celery. (Wait about half an hour before going onto the next step).

IV.                  It is now time to remove the chicken pieces, so they do not fall apart and become stringy. Place the pieces in a separate container and put to the side. (Make sure not to let the chicken get cold.)

V.                  While the chicken is off to the side, add the remaining ingredients (cilantro, carrots, and squash) to the pot. (Again, be careful when adding the carrots, squash, and cilantro. When they fall into the pot, they can splash and burn the skin.)

VI.                  Close the lid and bring down the heat to low. Regularly check the soup until all the vegetables are ready(To check you can stick a fork through the pieces, it is ready when the fork can easily go through the pieces)

                                                                                    VII.                  Put the chicken back into the pot and leave it for a few minutes.

VIII.                  After the soup is ready, remove foamy substance(fat) one more time to have the soap as clean as possible.( The fat will change the flavor of the soup if left in.)

1This image contains potato and a chile that was not included in the recipe

It is time to enjoy the soup after so much work. What is great about chicken soup is that you can customize it however you like. If you don't like squash, you can replace it with corn, or add noodles if you want to embrace your wild side. It all depends on what you like, so don't be afraid to put in things that were not included above.

Above I mentioned to remove the fat as much as possible to have the soup as clean as possible, but that is not required. The fat can be left in if you want the chicken remain flavorful and keep the protein that is lost when it was boiled.

           

"Love" by Julissa S

There are many aspects and ways to love. Gary Chapman states there are 5 different types of love languages, receiving gifts, quality time, words of affirmation, acts of service, and finally physical touch. These love languages gives us the basis of all types of ways to love. Love is a feeling of deep affection. Going from the service level of experiences a love for a color, to then a deeper affection for your mother, sister, brother, father etc. The list goes on and on, the world revolves around love. If there was no love there would be no hope for the future, no friendships or relationships. True love is as pure as a diamond. It may be rigid and take hard work to sparkle, yet when it is finally in its purest forms love shines, beyond any star. To not have love in your life is impossible, everywhere you look there is love even hidden in the deepest darkest areas of the world. There is someone in my life whom I deeply love, yet our love has not been perfected. It has not found the perfect balance to make it enjoyable. The love I have for my mother is immense, the amount of dedication and work ethic she puts into loving those around her is admirable. An occurrence that happened between us, that made me realize how much I love her, is actually after an argument. After the storm there is a rainbow, and the rainbow was that I realized that she has deep secrets that run through her veins, yet she still upholds a strong front. It may crumble sometimes, though she is one of the most successful women I know in my life. There is a song by The Beatles that states, “All you need is love.” I believe love is what flows through the blood of every single body on this earth. Each person showing it in different ways that accommodate to them. Love is pure, non-defining, and beyond what words can explain. The feeling of love is joyful, fulfilling, and a feeling of being completely and utterly safe. Find a person or thing or place that makes you feel safe, and think of why it makes you safe and then try to understand why it makes you feel safe. It makes you feel safe because it is filled with love, experiences, and different feelings of belonging. Love has a powerful force over every person, where if they are loved or loving they are receiving belongingness or giving belongingness. If your love language is gift giving, voice that to those around you and understand and try to communicate that to those around you. If you are receiving the wrong type of your personal love language you won't be able to see it as love. Love is for everyone, and everyone with a beating heart will soon learn to love and be loved. Experiences and occurances around you will fill you with the knowledge to love and know what kind of love you desire for yourself. Be aware of your surroundings and pay attention to the love you give and continue to love those that need it. Love, even when love isn’t being given back, because sooner or later you will feel the impact you had on others within yourself.

"Before it's too late" by Deanna O

      One of the worst days of my life started off as ordinary. That morning started off like any
other morning. I ran down the stairs with my backpack in one hand and my sweater in the other. My sister yelled and complained that I was going to be late for school. I stuffed my grey sweater inside my backpack, grabbed my shoes and ran out the door and into the car. I was hurriedly putting my shoes on in the back of the car. When we arrived at my middle school, I booked it and ran straight for my classroom. I walked in just as the bell rang and I let out a sigh of relief, one more tardy and I would have had a detention. I dropped my backpack onto my desk and placed my homework on my desk. I was talking with my friend right across from me, when a TA walked in and gave the teacher a slip. Usually, this meant someone was going home or to the office, but mostly to go home. Everyone was watching, waiting and hoping that their name would be called so they could go home, me along with them. To my surprise, the teacher called my name and told me I was going home. My brow furrowed in confusion. I glanced up at the clock, I had only been in class for 20 minutes. I thought maybe I had a doctors appointment I didn't know about but that did not seem right. There was another possible explanation in the back of mind, but I did not let myself think about it. I was happy to go home and I walked out of the classroom with a spring in my step until I opened the office doors and I saw my older sister. Her eyes were red-rimmed like she had just been crying and her black hair was wet and disheveled. I walked straight to her and asked what was wrong. She just shook her head sadly at me and led me outside by the hand. My heart raced with anxiousness. Once we got into the car, I saw my younger sister in the backseat of the car with a worried expression on her face. My oldersister let out a deep breath before she finally told us that our abuela had passed away that morning. Her

voice broke as she spoke the words. I didn’t know what to say or do and all I could do was stare at the window. We drove to my abuela's house and the whole family was there. Everyone was sharing their favorite memories of her and crying. In that moment, I felt like a monster because I wasn’t crying. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t. The next day we went to the wake, the drive there was sad and quiet, and no one bothered to turn on the radio to fill the silence because everyone was lost in their own thoughts. Even our footsteps were solemn as we walked into the building. When I walked into the room, I could see her lying in the coffin. My heart stopped when I saw her. Her eyes were closed and it looked like she was only sleeping, but I knew better. I slowly walked closer to her and I felt my lip quiver. I realized that tears had started to roll down my cheeks and they wouldn’t stop. I don’t remember walking out. I do faintly remember my older sister pulling me into her arms and whispering comforting words in my ear. My other older sister joined in and my younger sister hugged my waist. I could not comprehend what was happening. She was here and then she wasn’t. Death was something I saw in the movies or something that I read about, not something that happened in real life. I don’t think the reality of it all hit me until then. I realized that I wouldn’t hold her hand and I wouldn’t see her on the porch waiting for me. I didn't realize all the things that I took for granted. The things that I should have appreciated before they were gone. 

     Life is short, there is not nearly enough time with the people that we love. Ever since that day, I make sure to say “I love you” before I hang up the phone and I will always forgive. At the end of the day, nothing is more important than family and sometimes we take them for granted.

“KINDERGARTEN” by Chimi N

     Isn’t it funny? My mind replays all the things people have said to me, from the day I entered kindergarten up until now. “Your lips are too big” “Your hips are too wide” “Your skin is too dark” “You need to eat more”. Now they get lip fillers, liposuction, and go to tanning beds. Let me settle down. I am not, nor will I ever be one to shame anybody for what they choose to do to their body, but isn’t it funny how hypocritical humans can be? I guess it’s not anybody’s fault. We let society dictate who we are and what we should look like and quite frankly, it is tiring. Not to mention- damaging, stressful, and one of the largest contributors of low self esteem. 

     I’m going to allow myself to be vulnerable right now. In kindergarten, I had a friend named Joy. The irony is, she brought me any and every emotion but joy. Every single day she would shame me and bring me down for everything I ate and say things like “Oh you don’t need that” and “You’re already fat enough”. Remind you I was 5 years old, but I told myself that since she was my best friend, then of course she was telling me the truth because she was simply looking out for me. To this day, I have never felt so powerless in my entire life. Every now and then I ask myself why I never left Joy. Maybe it was because at age 5, I just wanted to be accepted. Maybe it was because at age 5, I really did think I was overweight. Maybe it was because at age 5, I had already feared abandonment and having nobody. Whatever the reason was, my failure to leave this toxic friend only ignited my low self esteem. I starved myself at school until the end of second grade when my family and I finally moved over to Fontana. 

     When I moved schools, it took me an unusually long time to adapt because I was no longer happy and outgoing, but shy and reserved. I feared going out of my way to make new friends because I was under the false impression that anybody I attempted to become friends with would be just like Joy, unaware that Joy’s behavior was not typical of a “best friend”. Additionally, I felt as though people would be embarrassed to be seen with me and why would I ever want to cause anyone that type of humiliation? I did make some really good friends here and there, but Joy’s words still lingered in my mind. This caused me to be discontent with myself, which impacted practically every friendship I managed to make. Taking pictures with others never ended well because I’d oftentimes think to myself, “Why can’t I be as pretty as her or as skinny as them?” 

     Up until high school, I had a ridiculously low self esteem, but I tried to suppress it and pretend I was more than happy with myself, as many insecure people often do. I cannot put my finger on the exact day, but some time during my early sophomore year of high school, I had a change of mind and said enough was enough. I could not keep letting words from the past destroy me and who I am in this very moment. Another thing that changed my entire perspective on my life was the realization that I had been created in God’s image. To him, I am beautiful and there is not one single thing, not one single person on this Earth that could ever take that away from me. This is exactly what I had been missing. After acquiring this mindset, my self esteem skyrocketed. I became so confident in myself and I was genuinely happy. 

     I know my self esteem is not the same as it used to be because I even remember an incident about a year or so ago when I wore a dress to school and a so-called “friend” of mine said my hips were too wide and proceeded to ask me if my mom let me leave the house wearing that dress. First of all, the disrespect. With my chin held high, I told her that not only did my mom let me leave the house in that dress,but in fact she was actually the one that bought the dress for me so you are dismissed. A previously insecure me probably would have burned the dress as soon as I got home, but because of my new mindset, I’ve realized that everything doesn’t need a dramatic reaction. Besides, the bottom line is that the people that take time out of their day to criticize and judge others are usually just jealous or unhappy with themselves. 

     Bringing everything back full circle, society will navigate the way we live our lives if we give it the power to do so. For about 11 years of my life, I allowed my identity to be shaped by somebody else’s perception of me and how people told me I should view myself. Why do you think people say they are so much happier without social media? It’s because they are not constantly turning to this addictive source to tell them what type of body, house, shoes, or car they “should” have, nor are they confined by the pressures of their peers and temporary trends. Honestly, Joy taught me the importance of empathy because now I know just how impactful my words can be. I titled this piece “Kindergarten” because that year held experiences that I am both ashamed of , yet grateful for. It was a life lesson that I learned at a young age , but it has played a major role in shaping me into who I am today, Chimdalu Rita Nebedum.

"Seize" by Alex Le

     It’s not common to get cramps every night, it just happens every now and then, but having multiple cramps in one night is not the exactly one’s idea of having a good time. By the time you’re awake, nothing is really left but a sore aching sensation of excruciating strain that one might tend to ignore if they will. 

     It was around 2 A.M when I woke up that morning, I didn’t exactly think much of my surroundings other than how warm it was, it was still summer season and I didn’t really mind it being a little warm. I reached out for my phone and grabbed it in order to check the time despite how tired I was. I didn’t want to take the risk of assuming that I still had time to sleep, however, the fact that I still had a few more hours to sleep, left me rather content and was ready to indulge myself in said acts. With that in mind, I stretched out my limbs in order to achieve the perfect optimum level of comfort and slowly, steadily, and quite delicately.... felt something off. This was a feeling one couldn’t quite explain, the “buildup”, I mean... and no I’m not talking about THAT. If I were to vividly describe this in detail, it’d be rather highly questionable to our current generation’s train of thought, so I’ll try and keep it to the point and tell you that what I felt was a gradually growing horrible, unimaginable pain that rested within my left calf. The ordeal itself doesn’t require a lot of dialogue of what went through my mind, aside from the endless amounts of cursing and tears. 

     It was similar to having my left calf muscle deciding to tie knots within my leg on its own and then setting itself on fire, and this didn’t last just a few seconds, but almost several seconds and possibly minutes. Even if it didn’t last that long, it felt like a handful amount of years. I didn’t exactly know what was going on at the time, since I was so deathly tired at the same time, but finally the whole ordeal ended as the knotted muscles in my calf began to release themselves from the uninvited tension, leaving a soreness behind as a souvenir for my troubles. Relieved, I laid sprawled out on my bed, sweating and honestly quite scared, but it was finally over! Upon silently celebrating on my deathbed, with dried tears on my cheeks, another feeling that one would describe as wrong began crawling along in my RIGHT calf. 

“Oh.” 

     The dialogue that rippled through in rapid successions in my mind this time was more clear and somewhere along the lines of; “no no no no no”. Although I thought I was slightly more prepared for impact this time, the pain was much more different from the previous one. It felt as though my right calf was eating itself right out from the inside and this was much, much worse. In a series of violent spasmodic movements and incoherent screeching, I managed to bang my head on the nightstand that stood right next to my bed, this occurrence kept my mind off my right calf for quite some time, putting me in a bit of a daze as the pain that I felt merely a few seconds ago was perhaps long forgotten... and like the last ordeal, after a few more seconds unknowingly, the pain has finally subsided. 

     I don’t think I was even that sleepy anymore afterwards, every bit of sleep in me has left my body and was replaced with utter confusion. Never in my life have I had such horrible things done to me. I thought to myself what I did to deserve such as I did, but in all honesty, I was rather indifferent to what happened and why it happened after that. Not only did I face abuse

from my very own body, but so did my bed, all the pillows were thrown off the bed and the bed covers themselves were bedraggled by the time I finished. I found out that what had happened were known to be nocturnal leg cramps and that they were the result of inactivity while being awake at night.. Aside from that, it was about time to get out of bed, the temperature of my surroundings has rose above boiling since I’ve been thrashing around so much and I felt an uncontrollable urge to get up and get some water. Having agreed to myself to get up out of bed, my legs, on the other hand, refused.

"A Misleadingly Exciting Retelling of Events" by Omar S

       It was an early morning in the soon to be blazing sun of Perris, California in summer of
2017. It was a special occasion, not as special as birthday or holiday, but more special than those holidays no one really understands like Labor Day or National Doughnut Day. It was an event I’d participated in a half or dozen times or so, It was the day my uncle and I went to play paintball, but today was different. Unlike the other times where there’d be dozens of people on both sides and we’d use trees, dilapidated vehicles, and poorly built structures that weren’t really buildings, today we were on an airball field. A field covered in inflatable bunkers that were caked in paint, 40 yards wide and 50 yards long where only ten people would compete to see who were the better five. Today was my debut on one of these fields as it was the weekly walk-on day for those who weren’t apart of a team and I was excited, but there was a catch, there was too many people for perfect teams of five and my uncle pulled the short straw, so he would sit out for this one. Four people who I’d never met, but seemed far more experienced than me and I walked past the net separating the field from the spectators towards the starting bunker. 

     We lined up next to the starting bunker, the barrels of our markers against it as the most robotic timer I’d ever heard began counting down from ten. I looked to my right as I was at the far left and saw four others, seemingly far more experienced than I, and across the field I imagined the same sight but with five experienced players instead of four. The final three second

seemed to slow to a halt in my head and the sound of the countdown became overpowered by that of my heartbeat and breathing, but through them I heard the muffled timer say the number that I could no longer tell if I was excitedly waiting for or possibly now dreaded to hear, one. As the ref’s starting whistle blasted through the muffled air, time unpaused and the world regained its sounds. The next one or two seconds would redefine the words hectic and crazed to me. The moment I heard the whistle I began sprinting for my life as the world was drowned out once again, but this time by the sounds of nine others firing their markers at 10.5 paintballs per second, recaking the bunkers in a neon yellow paint, and frantically yelling to one another every bit of information they could possibly process. Somewhere in that ≈40 yard sprint for my life to my designated bunker, I began hearing the sound of tiny .69 caliber projectiles coming at me at 200mph and I became terrified. In the last ≈3 yards I made the frantic decision to dive for the safety of the bunker and I barely made it. Now behind my bunker, I was introduced to a new horrid sound that was paintballs hitting mere inches away from me at the other end of my own personal fortress. The bunker seemed to scream in agony as I watched a neon yellow spray accumulate in front of me as paintballs splattered on the bunker. For the next few seconds, I heard nothing but the constant droning of 10.5 paintballs hitting my bunker every second, until for seemingly no reason, the overpowering screech of the paintball and their neon mist dissipated. “Someone must of got him.” I thought to myself as I slowly peaked my head out from behind my bunker to see three others from my team still firing back at the enemy, but in the middle of my vision I saw one thing and time slowed back down to a halt. A single paintball flying my direction, but I was incapable of moving as it inched ever closer to me, yet I was still powerless. Now inches from my face, I could see every detail of that paintball, from the large

Empire branding, to the tiny and nearly invisible seam, but alas its destination was certain and knew it too. A moment later, the neon yellow fill bursted on the lens of my mask blinding me as the fill seemed black as no light could enter my mask. I quickly wiped off the lens of the mask and turned around to walk to the side of the field to indicate that I was out. 

     Now I would like to take a moment to retell that series of events, but without the artistic flair for a more realistic account of those events. When I heard the starting whistle, I sprinted to the bunker at the furthest left corner of the field where I waited for about ten seconds as my bunker was pelted with paintballs. I then peaked out at what I believed was my opportune time and I was subsequently hit and got out. Regardless, it was one of the greatest experiences of my life and paintball is uncontestedly my favorite past time. What was seemingly a boring series of events was truthfully the introductions to one of my passions and I remember that as I walked off the field, I exclaimed to my uncle, “That was incredible,” and “I want to do that again.” So while it was seemingly incredibly uneventful and boring, I wouldn’t wish that it happened any other way. 

"Steel Cage" by Sezar G

                  There was a time that I remember where I could wake up and feel free and good with nothing to worry about. Now it seems like a distant dream from a long time ago. I use to be able to wake up and feel any pain, but now that’s usually what I my mornings consist of now. The day that it all began was my freshman year the day we went back to school from winter break. I woke up and I felt sick. The words that I said still echo in my mind sometimes “I feel sick but I think I might be nervous for second semester”. My day went on and the sickness persisted. “By the next day I should be better”, this was the second thought that crossed my mind. Fast forward to a couple weeks later I was in the worst pain I have ever felt. The sensation of someone pressing down on my stomach so hard while another person was stabbing me from the inside was the only thing that I felt for the next 3 months.

                  Every day that I went to my first period it was a daily struggle. I now had to focus on staying conscious since the pain was so intense, but I made sure not to show anyone the pain I was in since I would feel bad if I interrupted the class to ask to go to the nurses on a daily basis when school just started. Each day I knew the daily routine. Wake up at 5 have my head in the toilet bowl for an hour then start getting ready for school at 6. I live a good 4 min away from the school but getting ready took a good 2 hours now that I would feel really sick every morning. This marked the point where for the next year and a half I would wake up at 5 to get ready.

                  The day I finally told my parents about how I have been feeling for the past 4 months was a new change in my life. I no longer felt free, I now felt as if I lived in a steel cage that would hold me down and stop me from achieving the things that I longed to do. In April I started many medical tests to see what it could be. They tested me for parasites, abnormal bleeding, Inflammation, Parasitic eggs and the list went on. It was a struggle to know I can't do anything about it and the medication that they started me on was the worst. Some days it would work and others it wouldn’t. Eventually it would stop working and I was back at square one so the test would continue on.
                  I started to feel like a burden to my family, that everything I would do from now on would no longer matter. I felt that when every they looked at me, they would just see resentment, but they were just hiding it from me, so started to resent them before they could do it to me. The one thing that didn’t worry me that much was the medical expenses since we were and still are financially stable with a great health plan. Every test continued but the new one that didn't bother me that much was getting my blood drawn. This one thing interested me in how it could maybe provide the answer to what was wrong, except it didn’t. The only thing the test showed was an elevated level in white blood cells, but am ever so slight raise so this didn’t raise any suspicion.

                  To try and see why my stomach hurt I tried to switch up my diet. I took out red meats, only ate white meat, removed dairy from my diet, went on 5 different types of diets that would limit me to only eating certain kinds of food, went vegetarian, and then vegan. Still no changes. I would still spend pretty much every day with my head in the toilet and sometimes pass out from exhaustion of vomiting.

                  Both my mental health and physical health started to diminish. One of the clear cases of this was my freshman to sophomore year. Freshman year I was close to 200 lbs. which was overweight for my height and facts that play into what is the ideal weight to where even the new doctor called me a porker. That simple phrase broke me. The mix of medications and thoughts of being a porker now sent me on a downward spiral of rapidly losing weight. In the span of 3 months I lost 30 lbs. and I was now a shell of my former self. My friends even commented on how skinny I was but I could not see what I looked like. My sister didn't tell me this until recently but when I saw her at basic training she was scared. She said I looked like I would kill over and die any moment. This point I now felt I would never get better and nothing would matter anymore since I was sick every day.

                  When I finally had surgery, they saw my stomach was being attacked by my white blood cells in attempt to remove the “foreign object that was my stomach”. I finally had a ray of light in what was wrong. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, IBS, Gastritis, and Colitis, and when people have these kinds of stomach problems it can play a big toll on their mental health which can lead to things such as depression, anxiety, or even suicide. Fortunately, I never experienced the last one but I did at moment have depression thinking I would never get better, and when I was feeling down, I would think of the saying C’est la vie which means that is life.

                  Slowly I started to get better, and now that they knew which medication to give me and how to regulate them my sickness was able to be managed. From this I started to put on healthy weight, learn how to regulate my eating and the stuff that was going into my body which helped a great amount. My mental health started to improve along with my connection with my family. I learned that they wouldn’t go through all of this if they resented me, but out of love. This is what made me realize that the lengths my family would go through especially my mom who would look at forums to see how others with similar problems deal with it and what they do to help cope with the pain.

                  From this sickness it wasn't a steel cage, but it was my liberation, it was my freedom to learn and appreciate everything that I have around me. It made me appreciate my friends more along with my family. Of course, some days are hard but that means that I have to push through it and try my best to see if I can make it go into remission. If I can make that happen then I know without a doubt that I can take on any task that is thrown at me. That mindset is what lead me into pursuing the medical field to try and help anyone who feels the kind of pain that I felt since I wish that on no one. I can now say that I have gotten better from when I was first sick, and sure I have my days, and every day I feel pain but it’s now at a more manageable level that does not interfere with most of my daily life. From now on I like to take life one step at a time and appreciate everything and everyone.

"Tuesday April 18, 1967" by Jackson D

My morning started later than usual, around 8:48am, the sun barely coming through the covered windows, and it smelled of ham throughout the house. The phone rang with the desk officer on the other end, it was then that I found out about their deaths. The officer gave me a location just outside of town, on the main highway, and I was on the move.

Brenda was already up making breakfast as usual, eggs and ham this morning. I asked her for my food to-go so I could head right to the station and pick up my gear. It was a cold and foggy day out, misting a little bit. My car was iced over a little, which was common during the spring.

The town seemed a little more alive today than most, with people out and about with their trekking poles extended and Patagonia vests on heading out to the Mt. Powell trailhead. It seemed off, like it was something out of a fiction I read back in high school.

Upon arriving at the station, Thomas Wellings approached me as I was heading into the station. Thomas was the father of one of the victims, and was bombarding me with demands to answers I did not have. He followed me to my office door, and I asked him to leave, comfort his wife, and to let us do our jobs in finding out who would hurt such an innocent teenager. Although, to be frank, there was nothing innocent about his children.

I arrived at the crime scene little after 9:30am, and was briefed by one of my deputies, Dale Yarburogh. I walked around the small turn-off to see any if the CSIs missed anything, but there was nothing more. This troubled me, not being able to find anything else besides the obvious.

I looked inside the car where the bodies were. Two teenagers, boy and girl, shot in the head. There was more blood spatter against the passenger side, meaning that the gunman had to have been standing by the drivers side. Next to the open door was three bullet casings, the gun they came from unknown. It was unclear as to how this happened, but the fact remained that we had a lot of work ahead of us.

I went back to the station with Dale and my other deputy, Vinny Castro. We were greeted by the desk officer, John Felmin, who gave us the call log to examine who made the call to report the crime. It was a young couple who were skiing at the local resort, and were returning to the resort after attending an event down the hill. Their alabi checked out, couldn’t do anything else about it.

I made the decision to have Dale and Vinny inform the parents of the two parties involved in the crime. I then went into my office with John following me in, and we began our investigation. The crazy thing is, I’ve been the town sheriff for over 15 years, and never before have I seen a double-homicide, it was all new to me. I honestly was scared of the outcome.

Vinny and Dale were out for most of the day, coming back around 5pm. They returned with more information about the victims and where we could begin a background investigation. I called it a day around 7:30pm, mainly because I was late to dinner and wouldn’t hear the end of it from Brenda.

The crazy thing is, I’ve been the town sheriff for over 15 years, and never before have I seen a double-homicide, it was all new to me. This troubled me, and I’m honestly scared of what the outcome to this heinous crime will be.

Lando