"Pregnant Women are Smug" by Marian Hollinquest

(Author’s note: This is based on the song “Pregnant Women and Smug” performed by
Garfunkel and Oates)
     I sat in the garden in the backyard of one of my acquaintance’s home. It was blanketed
with a beautiful, bright green, pseudo-looking lawn of grass. The perimeter of the house was
fostered by an army of long pots, planted with the most surrealistic daisies you would have ever
seen. I am sitting alone at the table on the slightly dirtied plastic lawn chair at her baby shower.
Most of these women I have never even seen before, and I don’t care much to talk to them. I’ve
known her for years, she was one of my closest friends at one point, but time went on, she just
annoys me to the, James Hunter’s “Breaking Point”. Instead of just sitting out here alone like
Lennie, I made my way over to talk to the bell of the ball. I delayed over by the side, waiting for
her friends to move over; their faces resembled tomatoes, red and round, gushing about the
women as if she were a puppy, showering her with gifts and advice as their cankles danced
gracefully around the strap of their heels. They eventually cleared the way, making my once
close friend accessible to me. Not sure of what to converse about, I haphazardly began it about
the baby.

“So, what do you want the baby to be?” She smiled sweetly at me. I think I already
know the answer. “Oh, it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s healthy.” Wow, really? Because it’s not
like those two things are related at all. I mean, it’s not like one or the other! I cannot contain
myself for the day that a mother says ‘I don’t care if it is braindead, limbless, and-‘ God Forbid,
‘has a penis.’ I swear to high heaven you only speak in clichés now. This little world you are
enjoying is making you really annoying. I bid her goodbye, as I could not take any more of her
B.S. The loneliness acquainted with being alone at a party for moms has not eluded me like any
child the mother forces to go. I soon found the patience to speak with another women, who
also happened to be expecting. Not the great converser I am, I ask about the baby once again,
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Oh we know, but we’re not telling.” She coyly answered.
“What are you going to name it?”
“Oh we know, but we’re not telling.” I raise my brow.
“Whose the father?”
“Oh we know, but we are not telling.”
B***,  I really don’t care. I don’t know if you noticed, but I
was only being polite, because now you have no life. Don’t these women see? I am only twenty-five
and they are supposed to be too! The holy and bloody affliction between my legs still
remains consistent, though I do miss more periods than William Faulkner (and I admit that this
joke was not of my own), and I see no celebration for that, do I?! I may go to the bar once in a
while, and tell a man ‘Hey bae, I get more metaphysical than f**** John Donne.’, but I do not
throw myself into matrimony and curse myself for my upcoming middle-aged years. I wish I
could regress back to my younger years, when I could go to church and not have to get more
confessional that Sylvia Plath, but what’s done is done, and at least I am not as done as these
girls. These women may be giving birth, but it does not give them the right to refer to
themselves as ‘mother earth’. As I retake my seat, I can proudly say:
Pregnant women are smug.

Welcome Back!! August Featured Writers Are Here!!

It's a smallish crop of writers this month (August is always for the brave!) but that just means we can give them that much more support!

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

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

Now go read! :)

"A Testament of a Loving Father" by Ambriell H.

May 21st, 1991

Everyday, I hit him a little harder. Yeah, I know he’s only threeyearsold, but he needs to get stronger. My wife doesn't say anything, well, because I only beat him when she’s away. My boy doesn’t even try to hit me back, and, goddamn, does that make me angry, so I hit him even harder. Yesterday, I asked my son what he wanted to be when he grew up and he replied with, “A westler, daddy, you know, like the ones we see fighting on the TV.” I want my son to accomplish his dream. I don’t want him to end up like his old man. I just... I love my son so much.

September 1st, 2001

I haven’t seen my son in two months, but it feels like decades have passed. My boy is thirteen and I can’t teach him how to be a man. My wife, well exwife, caught me hitting him five years back and left me that same day. That bitch even took all my visitation rights away. She was always so selfish, but she did always deserve more than I ever gave her. But, oh God, a part of me is missing without my little “westler” around. I was just trying to teach him how to defend himself, but I guess I couldn’t teach him to protect himself from “the monster” the court decided I was. I didn’t want him to end up like his old man. I just... I love my son so much.

January 17th, 2012

Every Sunday, I invite all my friends over to watch the big fight because I am “the party guy”. Well, my friends are beer and cigarettes, so they live at my house. When the fight starts revving up, I’m fine. I have my friends close and my feet up. That only lasts for a little while though because when the fighters come out my eyes begin to well with tears and I start hyperventilating. He is so grown up. My sweet, little “westler” isn’t really little anymore. And, goddamn, he wins every fight he’s in. The determination in his eyes is nothing compared to his components and it shows when he has the champion’s belt around his waist. Yet, I can still see my threeyearold boy fighting against my fists and screaming for his mother to come home. That will always haunt me. When they left, it was really hard to wake up and not want to kill myself. But, man, nothing compares to the heartache I feel when my son, on live TV, announces, “When I want to win, I just imagine my dad's face on my opponent. I hope that bastard rots in hell.” I am a grown man with white growing from my scalp and I cannot stop crying. I am so grateful he didn’t end up like his old man. I just... I wish my son knew that I love him so goddamned much.

"Hanging by a Thread" by Deja H.

It’s beautiful how the sky’s blueness seems pure and innocent. So clear not a cloud in sight. The laughter of children, birds and butterflies fill the sky with excitement. Flowers’ blossoming as the warm summer breeze sweeps away its pollen. As the sun shines it gives a new vibrant feeling. It gave me a wholesome feeling but who am I to say it’s perfect. Everybody’s summer experiences are different than the next person. Some say it’s beautiful and enjoyable. Others say it brings back the memories of the fatal tragedy that once happened.

Unfortunately, I am one of those people who do not enjoy summer. Sometimes  I wonder what life would be like with my sister here. Thing weren’t the same after Micah died. It seems our happiness died with her. My mom never smiles or speaks to anybody anymore. The police claim she went into a Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. She mostly sits in the room looking through Micah’s baby pictures. My dad became an alcoholic and left us miserable while he went out every night. Sometimes I wonder if they ever considered my feelings. After all she was my twin sister. Strangely I always wondered how it felt to be kidnapped. Every night I close my eyes and imagine myself in Micah’s position. Then I would say my prayers asking god for forgiveness.

I often began to think her death was my fault. This would have never happened if I didn’t skip school. Maybe if it was both of us she would have had a better chance to make it out alive. The guilt ate me alive after she was pronounced. I told the police we got in an argument and she stormed off to a dirt trail. The tension began to rise as the police told us her remains were never found. Is she alive? Is the kidnapper holding her for hostage? If she returns will my lie begin to unravel? The thought of my parent’s heart breaking even more became too much to bare. I decided to handle the situation as best as possible. I grabbed a step stool and a rope. I tied the rope around my neck and hung it on the balcony. Then I slowly let the breeze push me off the ledge.

"The Black Crayon" by Cassandra A.

       There was a couple who just got married and they were looking to move into a house. They had their hopes set to move into one particular neighborhood but the houses were too expensive. The couple were about to move into an apartment instead of a house but they found a cheap house in the neighborhood of their dreams so they bought the house right away. While moving in the couple didn’t see anything suspicious beside the black crayon that the husband found periodically. He decided to keep it a secret so that he didn’t sound crazy to his wife. He didn’t see the crayon for a week so he discarded ever seeing the crayon at all. One day while coming home from work he saw it again. The husband decided to tell his wife about it. When he told her about the crayon her face grew pale. The wife told her husband that every day since they moved in, she always found a black crayon in the same spot, at the end of the hallway. While hearing what happened the husband decides to inspect the end of the hallway. While inspecting he found a wall that looked a little odd so he decided to peel the wallpaper off. When all the wallpaper was off he found a little door boarded up. Curious, the husband decided to try and open the door. His wife was very concerned. She told him, “don’t open it, it was boarded up for a reason“, but he didn’t listen. 

When he opened the door a gust of cold air rushed out and the husband thought he heard, “Get out,” but he quickly brushed it off. The room was very dark and cold which was a bit peculiar because it was the middle of summer and there was no air conditioner in the room. Once the husband was inside, his wife quickly rushed to his side. They were trying to look for a light switch but couldn’t find it. When they finally found the light switch, the wife turned it on. What they find would scare them for the rest of their lives. They found words written on the walls in black crayon and the words looked like they were written by a child, “mommy, I’m sorry, let me out.” “Mommy, he’s watching, let me out.” “He’s closer; I know it, let me out.” “MO….” The fourth sentence was cut off and there was a black line going from the “o” to the floor and in the corner written in red writing it simply said, “Your next”.

"Understanding the Cliche" by Chloë M.

I grasped hands that I knew so well in between my shaking palms. I used to love the way glass glistened in sunlight, but under hospital lights, covering eyes that used to comfort me… now it seemed only to mock me. The room seemed to grow weary of it’s walls, and every other person faded away. And suddenly, I started to scream. I felt every heartbeat in the room stop in shock and confusion.

“It should’ve been me! It should’ve been me! Anybody else!” I shouted to the ceiling, hot tears streaming down my face. Familiar hands gripped my shoulders.

“Baby girl, stop. It’s done. It’s done.”

I turned to look at my mother with an expression that could slice steel.

“No. Cancer doesn’t get to decide how many years I get to have a father. That’s not fair, mom. Not when there are people who rape, and kill, and steal who are perfectly healthy.”

She looked down at me softly. It was the first time I had ever seen any kind of softness in her. Any vulnerability. She stepped back, and everybody left the room. I turned back to the body below me and interlaced my fingers with his one last time.
“Remember when you used to sing me to sleep, daddy?” I choked out, kissing him once on the forehead, on each cheek, and on the chin.

“Now you’re loved around the world. Goodnight.” And softly, I began to sing the only thing that pushed away the night terrors, the shakes, the monsters under the bed.

“Christopher Robin and I walked alone under branches lit up by the moon, Posing our questions to Owl and Eeyore As our days disappeared all too soon-

“Miss Elise?”

A tiny voice pierced through my morning flashback.  I looked down to see the most beautiful child. Blue butterfly eyes, and a smile that could melt diamond, complete with three missing teeth. Her name was Arabella. I had spent the morning pouring over her files, preparing for her IEP meeting later on today with her caseworker. She had a small circular scar on her left collarbone where her mother had burned a cigarette into her skin. A classroom aid had recently discovered twelve more on her stomach and thighs. Her case files also noted that her biological father was jailed, and her mother as well, soon after authorities had discovered Arabella and her three siblings locked in a closet for two days with bruises covering their bodies.

“MISS ELISE.” She repeated a bit louder. I smiled and looked down.

“Yes Belly?”

“What song were you singing?”

I hadn’t realized that I was singing aloud.

“It was a lullaby that my daddy used to sing to me to scare away nightmares.”

Her baby blues widened. “Was he a good daddy?’

I chuckled and gave her a hug. “A very, very good daddy. And I am so lucky to have been loved.”

She smiled like she understood. “ Can I have goldfish now?”

"Only Faded Memories" by Katheryn V.

"Jump!"  I heard my arrogant yet daring cousin Dryad yell. Her icy blue eyes gazed into my dark green ones from across the menacing rocky cliff that stood between us and the active waves. Her short blonde hair covered her fragile, and pale face as a huge gust of wind blew through, at least my long red hair was tied up in a ponytail, the tips of my hair tickled the back of my neck. I looked down at the cruel, roaring blue waves as they knocked against the rocky edges of the cliff. It smelled of disgusting salt and fish.  I stuffed my pale hands into my dark purple hoodie and let out a shaky breath as I felt the tension compress my lungs and heighten my fear. The fear ran through my veins and my heart was beating faster than humming birds wings when they fly. Dryad rolled her hands on the inside of her yellow sweater and rolled her eyes.

"Chicken!" She yelled with that intimidating but girly voice. I stare at the cold fog that appeared every time I let a breath escape from my cherry gloss filled lips.

"It's freezing! I don't feel like doing it anymore!" I yelled to her as she stood on a rock near the cliff. I was almost afraid she was going to fall. She tilted her head to the side and kept gazing at me. She wasn't going to stop until I jumped. Why did I agree to do this? That question won't be answered at this point. I told myself, not to let fear control.

"Any day now Skylar!" She yelled once again only adding on to my stress. I stomped my foot onto the ground as I took my hoodie off and left it on the rock nearby. I fixed my black tank top and took off my purple Vans to reveal my black and white checkered socks. I rubbed my frozen hands together one last time before I jumped into my avoidable yet inevitable fate. It was a long way down. Once I felt my body rise off the ground, everything occurred in slow motion until I felt my body splash into the freezing water. I emerged from the water and looked up at the cliff, I started to cheer until a massive wave pulled me in to the rocks. I struggled and pushed against the hard waves, but it was no use. Before I could even blink I felt my head smash against the pointy, deadly rocks at the bottom of the cliff. After that I don't recall a thing. Until I woke up. I wasn't in a hospital. I was in the middle of a forest. Confused, hurt, lost, and unable to remember a thing. Not even my name. Not a single memory ran through my brain. Did I have a home? Family? Who was I? Did it ever really matter in the first place? Soon everything faded away. Faded into nothing. Nothing but lost memories.

And one more thing....

 Happy Graduation, Seniors!!!

Photo Credit: http://www.infinitesuccesses.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/new-beginning.jpg

Thank you for the laughter, the lively discussion, the privilege of getting to know you all --  you are ALL people of great value- don't forget that.  I won't.

I know you all have a great adventure ahead, wherever life takes you in the future. Get goin'!

Love,  Mrs. C

May is Here! And So Are Our May Featured Writers!

We've got a good selection to finish up our year!  I've enjoyed reading everyone's submissions very much -  I know you're going to enjoy this final batch!

 

                                                    image from goodmoneying.com

"The Bad Pitch" by Tyler J

We were in the bottom of the ninth inning; the score was all tied up. This was the deciding game, whoever won this clinched the division title and went on to the playoffs. The bases were loaded, as the leagues most feared batter looked in taking one last practice swing as he braced himself for the memorable at bat. The pitcher, a young rookie looked in shakily as he knew this could be it. He picked up the rosin bag to dry off his hands, kicked his cleats to get all the dirt off and dug into the rubber ready to fire the first pitch. The batter, walking to the plate staring the pitcher down the entire time dug his cleats in and pointed his bat to the outfield trying to intimidate the pitcher. The pitcher with a sense of fear shooting through his body looked in for the pitch, got set and fired a fastball right down the middle for the first strike. The batter shaking his head as if it was a bad call dug in again and got ready for the next pitch. Swoosh; again the pitcher fired and threw a perfect pitch right on the corner causing the umpire to call strike 2 and for the batter to step out in anger as he exchanged some nasty words with the umpire. The umpire taking off his mask warned the batter “one more word and your out of here”. The batter looking back in anger spits, slaps his helmet and gets ready to see another pitch. The pitcher now full of nerves knows that with this next pitch he could get himself out of the jam and back to the security of the dugout. He steps off looks up to the sky for support, takes a deep breath and steps back onto the rubber now with some confidence ready for the next pitch. The catcher gives the next sign, a curve ball down and out, the one pitch that this batter has trouble with, the one pitch that could save the young pitcher and get him out of this bad jam. He comes set, winds up and snaps his wrist except the ball did not get enough off of his hand as it floated in directly over the plate, right in the batters sweet spot. The batter now with huge glowing eyes takes a huge hack and smack! The outfielder looks up and turns his head in a dead sprint to the wall, the batter looks up flipping his bat in certainty, the pitcher puts his hands behind his head knowing he messed up. The cleats of the outfielder hit the warning track and he stops, leaning against the wall as the ball soars over the outfield fence 6 rows up. The batter rounds the 3^rd to meet his team at home plate for the celebration. The umpires calling ball game begin to walk off the field. The pitcher slowly walks off with his head down to be greeted by his coach who simply tells him one sentence. “ You win some and you loose some kid.”

" A Piece." by Valerie H

I think the question I get asked the most by not only the people who are closest to me, but also by my own haunting subconscious, is why I don’t let people into my life, and let them know who I really am. And by life, I mean what’s not covered up by the happy, outgoing, and bubbly facade I manage to put on every single day of my life. In actuality, that little ‘five foot and three quarters of an inch’ girl you see giving smiles to every bypasser and emanating light onto others (or so I’ve been told) is completely and utterly lost. She’s confused. And more importantly, she’s enslaved by fear and the want to be isolated. Why I don’t let more than three people maximum into that buried life of mine is because of the panic and anxiety that comes from waiting for a critical and judgmental response and the depression that comes after from the lack of any understanding and empathy from others. As much as I hope to believe that there is someone out there who completely 2000% understands me, I know it’s impossible for two reasons: one, nobody will ever understand another person’s life until they have lived it and two, because nobody will ever have the absurd, ongoing, jumbling, ear deafening thoughts that pop into my head at a rate I can’t even begin to imagine. After an intense reevaluation of myself, I thought maybe I’d try to let people know who I am as an individual. I wanted to do it in a manner so that I wouldn’t just spill out my entire sob story, but at the same time still give an idea of what it’s kind of like to be me and to see my response to some things. In order to do that, I’ve gathered a series of general questions asked by multiple people, in which I will respond below.

*Disclaimer: I am in no way trying to enforce any of the responses upon others, these are simply my opinions/thoughts!*

1. How do you get better from the common cold?

Uhm, I don’t. I’m honestly stumped with this one. Oopsies! Naturally, any person would take medication for the common cold, and though I do the same, it is never as often, for fear of falling asleep (my parents are in love with buying the nighttime pills) when I have a plethora of homework and studies to attend to. I usually just wait it out, and it leaves… but for anyone who may or may not know, I’ve been literally sick the whole year. I think the only time I managed to stay antigen exposure free was for a month, and that was this March. I always wished that I could be hospitalized to replenish my health… but look where that got me; my wish partially came true. Hopefully better health comes my way!

2. When should you start planning for college and what to do when troubles occur?

Start planning as a freshman, as colleges do look at your transcript starting from this year; if you want to get into the school of your choice, work hard and study hard. Plan out how many honors/AP classes to take and what you think you can handle along with any clubs and extracurricular activities. Really know your work ethic and threshold. Stay positive, don’t compare, and never let your pride get ahold of you. I stayed hating the person I was since my first year in high school, solely because I knew I wasn’t as good enough and never would be as great as my older siblings. I lived everyday feeling like I was a disgrace to Ho/Tran family and a disgrace to the standards my siblings have set before me. My pride was what made me believe I could do so/as well in taking all honors/AP classes every year, with at least 3 clubs in hand, as well as marching band and for some time, a job. Though I managed to pass all my classes, I saw them as a failing grade in comparison to the “straight A’s” galore on the transcripts of my brother and sister. Feeling like I didn’t work hard enough, naturally led to the state of depression I constantly found myself wallowing in.

3. How do you strengthen your relationship with God?

My relationship with God isn’t the greatest; a lot of people seem to think so, but it’s not. There have been so many times that I’ve lost my way with God, and I think one of the biggest times is now. Running away from God is probably one of the ugliest things I’ve experienced, especially in the state I’m currently in. And it’s honestly very hard; nobody ever said having a relationship with God was going to be easy. God Himself never promised a life without any storms; He only promised to be there beside you when it happens. I think the first step into strengthening a relationship with God is to have bible studies. Get the basics down, get questions you want answered, get concerns as a skeptic/new believer addressed. When you think you’re ready, try going to church more often; Churches usually dive into the Word and dissect stuff and help apply it to your life. I think the key thing, is to constantly talk to God. Most people mistaken prayer to be the “5 Hail Marys” or prayers of the sort, but it’s really all about talking to Him and communicating like he’s another friend, but a supernatural Being who loves unconditionally and never fails.

4. What are your goals in life?

For nearly four years, I didn’t know what my goal in life was. The constant drama, stress, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-hate slapped me so hard and too much in my face that I actually believed I couldn’t go on anymore. The fact that school increased all those things by a magnitude of a million and the fact that I was losing myself in my Christian faith, really made things worse. I dreaded waking up in the morning and I couldn’t sleep at night. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t know why God had chosen me even before I was born. Or why He thought I could handle all these burdens. I knew He wanted me here for a reason, but I thought I had no purpose here. I had doubts. I was angry. I was sad. I was confused. A couple of days ago I had a serious talk about “life” with my boyfriend. I couldn’t stop the tears and thoughts that my life should be taken. Then… this question came up. And so to answer his question, I now realize my goal is to live for God. To listen to His calling and to answer it. Do whatever it is that I was meant to do; help others. Seek out the weak and help. To provide, for my current family and future family. It’ll be hard, but worth it.

5. Who inspires you the most/What do you love most about your life?

My family, definitely. When I reflect on my last name, I think of honor, courage, strength, perseverance and support. I think of the honor my grandfather served with when fighting the war against Vietnamese communists, who eventually captured him as a POW. I think of the strength my grandma had during the eight years she had to raise her children alone while her husband was being tortured. I think of the courage my mother had in fleeing the country by boat as a refugee at such a young age with two younger sisters to look after. I think of the perseverance it took for my father to continually push through after severe losses and struggles due to the war. My boyfriend. The almost two years of our relationship has given me the greatest insight of who he is and what his life is about, and it’s more information than what I’ve received in an attempt friendship with him prior. The perseverance, brightness, love, laughter, and a word that’s better than happiness that he constantly and genuinely continues to share with and emit to others, through all the struggles that goes on in his life, never fails to captivate me. These people, these relationships are what I love most about my life and who/what constantly pushes me and inspires me.

I know this was extremely long, but I hope at least some of you stuck through it with me and got a little glimpse into my life. Thank you, reader. ☺

"Just the Beginning" by Kahlia C.

It’s strange to think that in just a couple of weeks the late night studying, the lunch
time shenanigans, and the classroom friendships will be over. I can’t believe that I’ve been
a student at this school for four years. This is the last year. This is it. This is when all of our
hard work will tie up into a bow and send us off to college or wherever else our lives and
dreams take us. It’s surreal, this feeling I have. I’ve been wishing and wishing for the days to
go by so I can finally leave high school and graduate. I’ve been wishing and wishing to
finally be an adult. I’ve been wishing and wishing and wishing, but now, it’s kind of funny that
I wish I hadn’t wished those wishes at all, because in the end, all I really was wishing away
was time. I don’t feel different. I still feel like the same person I was a couple of years ago. I
guess I’ve matured a bit, but it’s happened so fast that I didn’t even notice.The saying, “time
flies when you’re having fun”, sure is true, isn’t it?
The last chapter is here.
The last page where I question everything that has happened and what is to come.
The last line that I read over and over again because it’s too hard to close the book and
start another.
Soon I’ll have to start the next book to the “Story of My Life” series. Who knows what these
new pages will hold in store for me? Will I still be the same after its all said and done? Will
my friends still be some of the most important people in my life or will I look back at
yearbooks and think “Hey, that used to be my best friend”? Will I become a success?
Gosh, I sure would hope so.
Once the last name is read and the caps are thrown into the air, it’ll be the start of a new
beginning. I think that’s what I like the most about all of this, the word “beginning”. It’s such a
simple word, but it’s full of assurance that there is more to come and wow... there is so
much more. There’s an entire world out there that’s waiting for us to explore and find out
who we are. With new beginnings, it’s hard to know where to start and it may have some of
us feeling somewhat lost but, while writing this, I remember coming across a quote:
“I stopped telling myself that I’m lost.
I’m not.
I’m on a road with no destination, I’m just driving with hope that I’ll find a place that I like and
I’ll stay there.
I’m not lost, I’m on my way.”
We’re on our way, seniors.
We’re on our way.

"Holding Her Heart in my Webbed Hands" by Jack M

                  I pushed the saloon doors open with my amphibi-hands and walked up to the soda jerk. Flying across the galaxy works up a thirst somethin’ fierce, and this frog certainly was thirsty. Everyone on my home planet of Swampiter told me I’d never find TRUE love if I stuck around home. So I packed my things and decided to study abroad on the planet of Hesperis. “Maybe you’ll meet a nice frog and settle down and have a bunch of little tadpoles!” my mother said. Psh! Who would want a frog like me? I thought that I could never be loved like in those romantic movies like, “Lillypad of Love” or “Hopeful Hopping Heart.” They were just fantasy and I had no idea what was about to hit me like a pickup-truck going 80 miles per hour, in a 30 miles per hour zone.

                  I ordered a Sarsaparilla because I’d never tried one. It was okay. But then I saw her! And my sarsaparilla poured down my front as I stared slack-jawed at this emerald beauty. How in the world had I managed to find another frog half-way across the universe? I had no logical explanation. I wasn’t thinking clearly. My heart-rate increased and my tongue rolled out of my mouth across the floor. She noticed my reaction and gave me a shy battering of her eyelashes. I was hooked. OW!!! That’s when Fluff the Porcupine stepped on my tongue and started harassing her. She hadn’t been in the joint five minutes and he was already trying to convince her he was a millionaire. The only “million” thing about him was his breath, which no doubt was one in a million. A hundred thousand dirty pigs couldn’t have recreated such a stink. As her eyes started to burn, I made my move.

                  “Looky here you walking-cactus! This nice young lady just wants to enjoy a cold soda in peace. Why don’t you leave her alone?” Famous last words, I guess. Next thing I know, I see Fluff pull his fist back and I’m just wondering what he’s gonna do when all of a sudden I—

                  By the time I came to, I could just barely see out of my swollen eye that Fluff was picking his own spikes out of his bottom with an ice pack on his mouth. Then I looked up and I thought I must have died and gone to heaven or something because there was just the most beautiful green face looking back at me. As it turned out, she had a black belt in self-defense. “Are you alright? I think it was very kind of you to do what you did.” “You didn’t need my help.” I answered sheepishly. “Of course I did! You distracted him didn’t you? You know we make a pretty good team if you ask me.” She said with a smile.

We got married eight months later on a beautiful beach on Swampiter. And that is how your Grandma Arlene and I first met. Now go do your chores you crazy little tadpoles!

“Graduation” by Rachel S

            What does graduation mean exactly? For most of us when we think of graduation, we think of finally ending high school, but more importantly, going on to what’s next. It is the end of one chapter, and the beginning of another, much longer one. What happens next as we step into the real world, will shape us and define who we are. It becomes both a very confusing, yet exciting time in our lives.

            Graduation, although not to a few, is terrifying. Many of you may not fully realize the implications of transcending into adults until its right in your face. And it is horrifying. You will be nervous, scared, and almost completely alone. You won’t be given guidance like before, or the charity and doubt that comes with being kids. At times it will feel like the world is crushing down on you but remember, always, that you are a mountain, you cannot be moved. Your roots spread far and you will stand against time.

            Graduation means letting go of your past and setting ahead into your future. In these last few days you will have a choice of letting free any resentment or hate that you may have experienced. Forgiving can be a very mature, respectable, and above all healthy thing to do, especially when you face new and challenging uncertainties. Forgive the people who have wronged you, bullied you, laughed or whatever else. Leave the immature, the negative and the hateful behind, let that anchor go and never let it weigh you down again. Forgive, but do not forget. Remember what has happened, always, and grow from it.

            Graduation means bringing waves and tides of both positive and negative feelings, one of the more negative being regret. Have you ever lain sleepless one night, going over all the silly or embarrassing things you’ve done? It seems to me that this feeling escalates as I grow closer to this ending date and as I look back at my four years. However, all that simply means is that you’ve obviously learned from your mistakes, you’ve grown, you’ve adapted, and you recognize your wrongs, meaning that you’ve become a much better person.

            Graduation, means saying goodbye. You and I, and everyone else will miss something from high school, whether if it was the great friends, the events, anything. As we are handed that sweet, sweet diploma and dawn our gowns we will end our time here, together, but also leave, together. We will (mostly) go our separate ways, develop into our own, separate beings and that will be wonderful.

            Lastly, graduation is, and probably most importantly, about finally being released. No longer will we be in grade school; our parents soon cannot give us a curfew (although it’s probably smart to set on anyways, you know, for college and whatnot.)  We’re like flowers finally being able to bloom; an entire garden in spring. Finally being able to really set our print into society, to truly become an individual. It’ll be an amazing experience, and I’m more than exhilarated to begin.

"My Experience with the Scarlet Letter" by Zsa’mine H

            Mr. Hall said choose a letter that would represent a sin to describe ourselves. When this project was given to me I thought it was funny, a joke, something just used to embarrass me around school, but as I began to further understand the novel “The Scarlet Letter” it made since to me. Instead of laughing I began to take it seriously. I finally understood the purpose in putting a letter on my clothing, and walking around with it. Although I wasn’t ashamed I had finally understood.

            Mr. Hall wanted us to relate to the main character Hester Prynne, he wanted us to relate a little more to the story as a whole. Throughout the novel Hawthorne focuses on the aspects of forgiveness and judgment. Although many people did not know what my letter stood for, there were often assumptions made, and due to those assumptions judgment was passed.

            The hardest part was figuring out what letter to use, because of course nobody wants to point out their flaws to the world, so I began to think. I wanted something that would be able to truly describe me, something about myself that I wasn’t entirely proud of, that would be my sin, and the letter on my chest would have that initial.

            It began with a story I was telling my mom, and throughout my story I kept referencing how irritated I was, and how angry I had gotten, and my mom just laughed. She simply said, “you’re always irritated, you get irritated off of crazy stuff.” I didn’t think about it because that’s something my mother always says, but when a boy in my class had said some of the same things my mom said I got to thinking. He said, “your letter should be ‘I’ for irritable.” It might have been a joke then, but the word stayed with me.

            So the next day I got to my task. I mad a very noticeable, and very colorful letter “I”, and pinned it to my shirt. It wasn’t humongous, but it was large enough for people to know that I wasn’t ashamed of the letter that I had placed upon myself. I embraced that letter as if it was apart of my own skin, because just like my skin it was a part of me. That simple, but very noticeable letter “I” represented me more than anything else had ever done.

            So when I was finally allowed to tell people what my letter stood for I was proud to say that the very noticeable, and very colorful letter “I” that was pinned to my shirt stood for irritable, and though I may have gotten judged for such a choice, I didn’t care. The letter “I” that had represented the word irritable began to represent me.

"How to Seduce Jack McDonald" by Louis W

As we approach summer, our thoughts often turn to the special someone we hope to spend it with. For some it is Brad Pitt, for others, George Clooney. However, for most normal people, we all are left wishing that we could understand how to reach the heart of the man we all know as Jack McDonald. I have known Jack for years and after a careful analysis of the way his brain works, I have created this foolproof 8 week program to help you get results in your search for companionship this summer. The chances are Jack will ignore any effort to court him because he is already in a relationship, but it’s always good to try.

Week 1: Start establishing contact. Run into him a few times, maybe trip him when he passes by. Do anything that will ensure he knows the difference between you and the tree you sat in to drop acorns on his head. If you are more of a passive person, simply try trapping him for a long period of time and talking to him until you almost annoy him. During this week (and in future weeks as well) always carry a list of conversation starters (such as “did you hear the new Beatles Album?”) so that you are never short of words.

Week 2: Create a friendship on a first name basis. By literally forcing him to say your first name all the time, he will have no choice but to see you as his friend (unless of course he gets a restraining order). Once you accomplish this, you should start complimenting him on everything from his selection of buttoned plaid shirts to his ridiculous British accent. Also, laugh at everything that comes out of his mouth (including, but not limited to: words, food, teeth, grunts, and other miscellaneous noises) because it makes him feel good. We all know that almost everything he says is nonsense but you must laugh anyways. WARNING: you may want to work on your fake laugh because if you don’t have variation in your fake laugh, he will know you are faking.

Week 3: Test his knowledge of you. Every day that you see him this week, introduce yourself with a different name (such as Winston) to make sure that he still knows you. WARNING: This may be the easiest step in the whole process but it could be dangerous because he may actually begin to call you the wrong name.

Week 4: At this point he should be at least somewhat interested in you. Because of this, it is vital that you ignore him for the entirety of week four so that he realizes what he is missing. I do this by yelling Rachel’s name and waving like a maniac to her, which makes Jack realize that he wishes that I was yelling his name and waving like a maniac to him too. WARNING: Do not ignore him excessively as he will move on. A stud-muffin like him has many options and you want to make sure you are number one.

Week 5: Create inside jokes with him that nobody else understands so that you can develop that intimate laugh between the two of you and nobody else because as we all know, when more than two are laughing, it’s just not funny anymore. Also get into a routine of communicating in silence so that you can make those silent times much more interesting (such as if you are in a library or in the middle of a test). WARNING: Do not let anyone else in on this secret code because if two people are secretly communicating with Jack at the same time, he might get mixed signals.

Week 6: Volunteer to do group projects with him and turn everything into a joke. If you are following my program word for word, this will work beautifully. If you have missed a week this could backfire because apparently (no matter how funny you are) being funny all the time is actually not funny. However, if by some miracle this mentally rigorous program hasn’t broken you yet, continue to incorporate your humor in all group assignments (including your inside jokes to continue building the intimate relationship in a more public setting). Another benefit is that if you fail the project, but Jack thinks you are funny, then you get an A+ in the dating category regardless of your actual score (unless it’s in math then it goes into tests and quizzes).WARNING: Your humor may potentially ruin the project and cause the other group members to hate your guts, but for Jack, this is a sacrifice you must be willing to make if you want real results.

Week 7: Make sure that Jack knows you are better than everyone at everything. This may sound arrogant but some people like that, Jack being one of them. Sophomore year Jack had a dream that I won every award on the planet, even the awards that he was supposed to win. If that doesn’t prove that he likes people that demonstrate their greatness every day than I don’t know what will. I prefer to do this by bringing up great things that I have done in the past or things that I will do in the future in every conversation we have. WARNING: Just like with week 6, this will probably annoy everyone else, but Jack will like it and that is all that really matters.

Week 8: This is the home stretch. At this point you are ready for a romantic date. While many “experts” would suggest a romantic expensive dinner and a romantic movie, nothing will get Jack loving you more than some In-N-Out and a movie that neither of you want to see (such as Twilight, yes that happened, no I won’t go into details). Let him pick the day and the time, and even if you are tired, pretend like you really do care about what he tells you while you are on the date.

*The picture above shows what a successful 8 week program should look like.0

Congratulations! You should have successfully courted Jack McDonald. If for some reason this program does not get you the results you want, then you have no chance with Jack and should set your sights on someone more realistic like George Clooney or Brad Pitt. Below I have added some important notes to remember throughout this process.

1)    The Beatles are the best. Doesn’t matter if you know who they are or if you even like bugs, the Beatles are the best thing to ever happen to Jack since he met me, so keep that in mind.

2)    Summer is almost here so you will have to begin my program immediately.

3)    There is a ninth week, but you will have to pay $4.30 to find out what it is. In the meantime, I will allow you to guess what it is because after all, if you’re with Jack for 8 weeks you shouldn’t need me anymore.

4)    No refunds if you purchase week 9 because you can’t unread something.

"Through the Fog" by Cody M

Up early as the sun breaks the horizon and sheds light throughout the cloud cover. They grab their backpacks and make their way to the trailhead. They come face to face with the trail and look up towards the sky and peek at the rock they plan to ascend.  With a quick easy hike Michael and Roger make it to the base of El Cap and stare 3,000 feet straight up The Nose.  Roger looks over to Michael a bit pale and nervous. Michael tells him, “There’s nothing to fear now, we’re here, and we’re ready for this now”. Gathering himself Roger takes the lead as planned, hooks up to the first pitch and sarcastically tells Michael, “Only 20 more”.  Roger leads the way as Michael follows; they make good time through the first several pitches with easy climbing. They reach the end of pitch 7, and need to get over to the Stoveleg cracks. They notice the clouds keep rolling into the valley and the sky quickly is getting darker as the morning fades.  On to pitch 13, 14, 15 with moderate free climbing and approach the King Swing, pitch 18. The King Swing is a pitch that requires Roger the leader, to do a pendulum maneuver and swing from one side of the rock around the corner onto the next pitch. Historically, this swing move can be done fairly quickly in good conditions, however, the fog has rolled up on them and the landing spot around the corner may be difficult to see forcing them to go off the projected route. They take a break hoping the fog would clear up; meanwhile Roger once again begins to lose his nerves as he knows he is the leader on this climb and must swing first.

 After coming to a realization that the fog is staying, Roger has the courage to swing and search for the corner making a blind turn.  Roger goes for it and quickly swings back claiming he thinks he knows where the landing is. Four more passes and Roger cries out he has made it and puts the hooks in to fasten the rope for Michael, however he cannot still completely see if he is completely secured in the pitch. Now it’s Michaels turn to swing the corner, Michael goes for it, while swinging Roger hears a rattle one of the clips scraping the rock hasn’t been fastened and now both Michael and Roger panic knowing the result that’s approaching will not be good. Michael slams into the granite trying to grab hold, the moist air has made the rock slick causing him to slide a few hundred feet to a stable place below Roger. At this point it is nearly impossible for Michael to make the climb. Both devastated and crushed inside knowing that Roger must make a choice to turn back when he’s so close or to climb down to Michael. Michael shouts, “Finish it man, you’re so close and worked too hard”!

"Two Deaths?!" by Chase T

There once was a scientist named Stu Pickman. He worked with an incredible amount of
chemicals. Stu had recently been experimenting with a poison he had made. That night when
he went to bed, black fog had filled the room. The next morning Stu had noticed that his poison
was gone. Stu was scared that someone went into his lab and had stolen it. A mysterious man
with long black hair and a black coat had appeared. “Who are you?” asked Stu. “ I am Death”
the man said. Death told him that last night someone was going to break into his lab and was
going to put the poison in all of his food. “I saw the man come in” said Death. “So I quickly filled
your house with fog so he couldn’t see anything and would leave”. So Death told Stu that it
wasn’t time for him to go yet. “Thank you “ said Stu. Death had vanished in a quick second. Stu
was so overwhelmed with what had happened he went to bed. Right when he fell asleep red fog
filled his bedroom. When the red fog was gone the only thing left was Stu Pickman’s corpse…

"The Great Journey " by Elvis D

      Our story begins in the city of north Fontana in the Hunter’s Ridge community. Our hero Elvis Diolosa has just arrived in his new home. Little does he know that this house is where his greatest journey will begin. His great journey started exactly 2 years ago. Elvis was a normal child in 8^th grade studying hard to keep his grades up, though to no avail. It is the morning of a chilly October day and it is the day that Elvis will never forget. As it was a normal morning for our hero decided to walk about the school campus being himself, talking to friends and having fun on his own. He always wondered what life would be like in an alternate universe. He often thought these ideas were nothing but boredom telling him nonsense. All of that changed the day he saw “It”. A rip in the fabric in reality, but that was impossible he thought it would take an insane amount of energy that would never be reached in his world. His curiosity got the better of him and he ran closer to investigate. Before he could tell his friends what he saw it pulled him in and flung him across time and space never to see his own home ever again. When he awoke he found himself in a strange land that he had never seen of or heard before. Lost and confused, he wandered around to try to find a town. Soon he found a small town that looked similar to his home town of Hunter’s Ridge. He wandered the streets of the town desperate for answers to his questions. Eventually he found what looked like his house on the same street it always was but something was different No one there knew him, though in his town he was very recognizable. He walked up to the door and put his house key into the lock and slowly twisted it. The door opened. “Hello?” he shouted “Mom? Dad? Are you here?” Then a little girl’s voice answered him “Daddy is that you?” He stopped and thought. “Daddy? I don’t have any kids let alone a wife. Just where am I?” Before he could respond the little girl ran up to him “Daddy your back.” “Back?” he thought “Were did I go?”  The little girl gave him a hug and said “Your finally back from your trip.”  “I am?” he asked.  “Yeah” she replied “you said you were studying something to do with space holes.” Just as she finished that world’s version of him walked through the door. “Hey” said his older looking self “You look familiar.” “Wait you must be me from a different timeline” “you have to get you home, here take this watch it will let you hop worlds eventually you will get home and just so you know this is the future if you get home. ” And so our young hero’s journey to get home had begun.

"No More Bullying "By Aryelle E

     I think people should be suspended for bullying someone. I know it doesn’t sound like something everyone would agree with, but bullying needs to stop. Its not right for people to go around bullying someone they don’t know and have no idea what they are going through outside of school. A lot of people have seen people get bullied and don’t try to stop it cause they don’t want to be part of it, or they go and help the person who is bulling that person cause they feel like they want to. But if we all stand up for that person being bullied, then eventually everyone will see that its better to stand up for bulling then to add on to it.
    In our generation, people have been bullied so much that it hurt them so much that they commit suicide at a young age just so it can stop. But that’s not a right thing to do. Those people who have done that had a better future for them, but ended their life cause they couldn’t take it anymore. I find this sad cause some of these people were nice and friendly to everyone, but everyone just wants to pick on the nicest people cause they are easier target for them.
    I have been bullied my whole life. I always wished that someone will eventually come and help me but as I got older, I realized that everyone is afraid to go and help them out. I had those days were I wanted to switch schools or move somewhere else or just be home schooled. But after hearing what they would tell me, I realized that what they say is all made up cause they don’t know what I go through outside of school. I stood up to people who have bullied me and I still do. When I see someone getting bullied that I don’t know, I go and stand up for them. I think we should all stand up for bulling and make a chain reaction to stop bullying.