"My Reality" by Eddie Y

     RING. RING. RING.​ I woke up to the sound of my alarm going off, and I rolled over in bed to look at the time. 6:00 am. ​Shoot, already late​. I hopped out of bed, put on my rehearsal clothes, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Time for another day. Yet another where I didn’t get the chance to be who I wanted to be. I found that living with yourself is not an easy task; the person I saw in that sheet of glass just didn’t show me who I knew I was. My mom was already downstairs, making me breakfast before school. “Buenos días, mama.” “Buenos días, mijo.” I inhaled my food and ran outside to throw my instrument in the trunk, and we took off. 6:30 am. ​I’m definitely going to be late.
     As we drove along, my mom began talking to me about a Filipina girl that she had met in the hair salon the other day. “She was absolutely lovely, and beautiful to boot. Perfect dating material, I’ll take you next time,” as she nudged me and winked. ​Never going to tell her.​ How could I? I was trapped between a rock and an equally hard place. It was much easier to keep my mouth zipped. Maybe I just didn’t think the world was ready for me yet. Maybe ​I​ just wasn’t ready for myself yet. “Any girls you’re interested in at school, mijo? Who’s that girl you always hang out with?” ​Again with the girls. Always the girls.​ I just laughed it off, but she saw the look on my face. “What’s wrong?” I was ready, I was going to tell her, if I could only open my mouth and ​say it.​ A million words climbed to the tip of my tongue, but then only one came out: “nothing.”
     One day. One day she can know.​ I had been waiting for the right time, but when would it be? 6:40 am, and we still hadn’t arrived at school. The clouds were covering the sun, which was barely beginning to rise, and the sky threatened rain. I stared out the window, watching my breath fog up the glass. ​I’ll graduate first. I’ll go to college, then she can know.​ Running away from the truth was much easier than accepting it. It never occured to me that there was the slightest possibility that she knew me better than I knew myself. Maternal instinct, had to be sharper than glass. Still, I knew that for the time being, my secrets were best kept secret. 6:45 am, and we pulled into the school driveway. “I’ll make sure to get her number for you next time!” she said. I opened the door, unlocked the trunk, pulled out my instrument, and then - “Mama, I’m gay.”
     Before she had the chance to process what I had just said, I closed the trunk and bolted up the stadium access road. ​Why did I just say that what happened why did I say that what happened WHY.​ I was not ready for the truth, but it was ready for me. Tears flooded my eyes as I assembled my instrument and joined the band. ​Why did I say that? What just happened?​ I could barely breathe; the world had just collapsed, and I with it. How would I face her when I got home? My heart was pounding, my mind was going a million different directions, and then, all of a sudden, everything stopped. I took a breath. ​It’s going to be okay.​ The world didn’t collapse, it just changed a bit. I checked my phone, and saw a notification: “I’ll check and see if she has a brother.”

     I have come to realize that the world can be a very scary place. The last thing anyone wants is to be left vulnerable and alone in a place as big as planet earth. Every time we reveal something new about ourselves, we think we are risking that chance, and it begs the question, “Will it all be okay?” Now, I know that the answer is simple. Yes. I kept my own reality hidden behind lock and key for so many years, and for what? To keep the rest of the world safe from myself? The truth is that the world could do with a few changes. I look in the mirror every single day and I think - no, I know - that I can be whoever and whatever I want to be. The world is not planning on falling apart anytime soon, and neither am I.

"So What, You’re Annoyed? " by Darylle A

     Oppression and character. Two simple things that coincide in ways that go unnoticed in societal behavior, past and present. We’ve known the history of utter suffering inflicted upon discriminated populations because we’ve repeatedly been told, tested on, and lectured in such topics that bring about the one conclusion: minority-labeled groups have never been treated equally in respect and it is important to publicize their stories to prevent further injustice. That is correct, yes? Though we’ve come to a point, especially in in this era, where voicing on the wrongfulness of oppression has become controversial and is laughed at or ridiculed. Why? This attitude comes from the lack of sympathy and goodness in a society so driven by social expectations to be insensitive and brutal that the very idea of being kind (or let alone, being humane) is no longer first instinct.
     Here are women, black and brown communities, immigrants, and the queer---some of the most mistreated groups we’ve come to know in an unending historic line of corruption against them. But they stand headstrong amongst themselves, having always voiced their hearts and fought for acceptance and a rightful place in a world that only brings them down. You can name every moment in the books, from the Seneca Falls Convention to Civil Rights, practically any

social movement you’ve learned in a history class. You can especially bring attention to modern recent occurrences and repetitive news from Black Lives Matter to the Women’s March and LGBTQ+ in “PRIDE.” The gist is we’ve seen and heard it all by now. Yet somehow, someway, the mere mention of something like feminism brings scoffs, rolled eyes, and the offensive “here we go again.” Yes, of course there has been progress in successfully giving rise to shaming social issues and bringing mass attention to the cries of the abused, but brutal discouragement always comes back to bite. So-called minorities are bought up in your daily conversations, a family party, lunch, Twitter! And then come crude side comments or refusal to elaborate on discussion because the topic is “too sensitive.” This lives in today’s culture, in today’s land of social media, and no one has seemed to really acknowledge the fact that tyranny is loud and thriving, hidden in plain sight.
     In truth, this has never been a political discussion. As much as it may seem to be, this is not some state of the art liberal agenda that’s brushed off the shoulder because one thinks it’s irrelevant or overrated. Neither is it worth the debate under a government to choose whether a particular group deserves human rights or not. It’s the matter of people losing their own being, their own conscience and morality of acting on concern, and how simple it is to be a righteous person. The desire to inflict hate upon others is something that shouldn’t come into play. Call it cliché all you want, but how is it that something as easy as being good-hearted is not being put to use as women who cry for justice from sex trafficking, or innocent black teenagers being shot to the ground, go silenced. These are discussions that should not be deemed controversial to begin

with. No government, no authorities, no rules in play because there should not be guidelines on how to have a soul.
     The problem lies in us. Is it you that gets annoyed in conversation about social issues? Are we sure goodness lies within us all the time? Or when necessary? It’s simple. You are not in the right space to be irritated or foul towards oppressed peoples pleading for equality. It is time we put ourselves in check, to take accountability for our ​own​ ​character​, to be kind. So what, you’re annoyed? Aim your irritability to those around you who lack in sympathy and most of all, heart.

"Becoming Strangers " by Kayla J

     “Once upon a time, there was once a man who loved his family very much. He worked the toughest jobs and the longest hours to feed his wife and two kids. As time went on he grew older and had many grandchildren, two of which he would become a second father to. He taught them how to peel an apple, play baseball and the best way to sneak snacks out of the kitchen to eat later. He would tell his grandchildren silly stories about how if you eat a watermelon seed then a watermelon baby would grow in your stomach and all the kids would pick out the seeds just in case. Even though he was poor, it didn't mean that they didn't have fun; infact, the memories were twice as sweet. One day, the two grandkids wanted to play baseball but had no ball, he could not afford it. Instead, he picked a lemon off of the tree that was still hard, not quite ripe and green and used that as the baseball. It was an absolute mess with lemon guts and seeds splattering along the ground and two kids soaked in the sticky sour juice. They laughed and laughed even as they rinsed off with the cold hose water so they wouldn't stick to every surface they touched. This man was a good man who gave his all to his family and raised me as his own for years when my parents weren't around. I love him and I miss him.” I finished my story and readjusted myself on the chair next to the hospital bed where an old man around the age of 90 lay. “Where is he now?” asked the silver haired man. “I’m sure he’s not too far away,” I respond.

     “If you have the time, bring him here to see me. I would like to meet him.” the old man responded tiredly. He fell asleep after a few minutes and I decided that I should head home before it gets dark. As i got up to leave, I turned and looked at the small old man asleep in his hospital bed. The way his thin silver hair looked like feathers and how his wrinkles traversed across his face like lightning showing years of hardship and laughter. I breathe in deep the smell of saline solution and the clean, steril smell hospitals have. The little old man with hazel eyes who was usually grumpy, asleep peacefully, smiling. His dementia getting worse as the days go by. I've seen him every other day for months, watching him drift farther and farther away. My heart grows heavy and my throat tightens like I’m choking as the tears roll down my face. Those who never have to experience this are lucky. To watch a loved one die and be forgotten or forget you like you never existed. Nothing left but stories and rooms full of strangers. I miss my grandfather wherever he may be, but the delicate old man who will spend the rest of his days in this hospital room is not him. Tucked away in memories is where he remains. I leave the man in the bed as a stranger, his grandchild, his kid.

“Mistake” by Isabel Q

     I didn’t know you at first. I knew your name, and that was about it. I had only heard about you, but thought nothing of it. You were the sweetest person I had ever met up until that point. Your kindness, sense of humor, and how you were always there when I needed someone to talk to, meant everything to me. It didn’t take long for me to trust you, to tell you all about my past, to share my future aspirations. You soon became one of the most important people in my life, that is until you started dating her. She changed you as a person, through all her manipulation and controlling, you had developed into someone new. You fought and fought in that relationship, I gave you advice to try to fix things, but the cycle continued. You would be in a great place, then you would fight, she would threaten to break up with you, you would apologize, break up, and then get back together. The story would repeat itself, over and over for what seemed like years but was only a couple of months, until one day she made you choose between us. You chose me, and she was angry because the cycle didn’t go the way it usually did, the way she was expecting it to. She confronted me after school, called me names, insulted me, and tried to make me feel guilty for something I didn’t do. She made a big scene,positing it all over her Instagram and Snap chat story, complaining and talking about me. She even called your mom to tell her that you broke up with her when you told her you were finally done with her for good. I cheered you up after, or at least tried my best to. I didn't care what she posted about me or what names she called me, I wanted to make sure you were okay and asked you if there was anything I could do to make you feel better. You asked me to go to your concert the next day and so I did. At the concert I waited to watch you perform, and that’s when she walked in. She walked in with a smile across her face as she walked over to your mom, said hi and sat down with her. Words cannot express how shocked and confused I was but I figured she came just to start more problems. It wasn’t until after you performed when I went to talk to you that you ignored me, and walked over to her, giving her a hug, sitting right next to her as if she hadn’t screamed in your face the day before. I went home. I couldn't stand being there, confused as to what happened, but not wanting to deal with it at the moment. You didn’t text me all weekend, but you gave her my number and she texted me, “Josh and I are back together, he doesn’t care about you and never has.” At that point I didn’t want anything to do with this whole situation, much less talk to her so I ignored it. She told people that what she posted on her story about me was a prank that the three of us had agreed on. She said this to cover up so that she wouldn’t look bad for saying all those things then going back to you two days later. To this day, I don’t know what happened and why you two got back together, maybe she was manipulating or blackmailing you, maybe it was a prank that the two of you had planned but either way, I no longer want anything to do with you. For the longest time I believe that she changed you and made you a new person but I was wrong. Although she was controlling, manipulative and abusive, she didn’t force you to do what you did to me, you made that decision on your own. You were the worst mistake I have ever made, because of you I had trust issues. Because of you I found it hard to open up and want to make new friends. Because of you I was afraid to get too close to anyone, out of fear that they would do what you did to me. But, because of you, I

met someone who showed me that not all people are as horrible as you, and this someone has worked to restore all the damage and pain that you caused me.

" L​ift ​UP​ ​U​r ​S​pirits" by Nathan G

     Going into my freshman year of high school, I faced many physical health issues that deprived me from thriving as an individual. Around 8th grade I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease known as Lupus, or Systemic Lupus Erythematosus. Lupus is a systemic autoimmune disease that occurs when your body's immune system attacks your own tissues and organs with excessive inflammation. Lupus contains symptoms like: pain in muscles, anemia, fatigue, fever, malaise, hair loss, red rashes, and ulcers. This disease was an enormous bump in my life, because it restricted me from doing classes that could help me improve as a student. My sickness also prevented me from playing the sports that I loved, and could of made the team for. Throughout all my years of high school, I wasn’t allowed to take the certain workshops I wanted to because they were bad for my condition. One other thing about my condition was not being able to be out in the sun because UV light would cause inflammation onto the surface of my skin. This was a serious condition that would cause me to feel weak all the time, even to just walk upstairs, but that didn’t stop me. This showed me that no matter how hard life could get, especially at the most unexpected times that I shouldn’t let these problems stop me from growing.
     Over two years ago, I was in one of my worst possible states ever, I was extremely weak and full of red patches on my face caused by the sizzling sun. The medications took time to kick

in and had major side effects such as; gaining excessive weight, hair loss, sensitive skin, and muscle fatigue. It came to the point where I had to go to the hospital every week for an IV infusion that was strapped to the side of my forearm as I lay in bed for 4 hours. I could still remember the scars on the veins of my arm as the nurse stuck a needle slowly inside to initiate the infusion. The impression on my mom’s face as she saw me lay in bed was full of sorrow as I saw her look to side tearing up from seeing her son having to go through a treatment used for cancer patients. She would say, “It’s okay son, the treatment will make you feel better. It’s almost over just relax.” And I would reply, “Mom I don’t want to do this. Why does it have to be me?” I could even overhear the doctor as the echoes come from hallway, “This treatment can last up to months,and there are some side effects.” I was scared out of my life, and didn’t know what to think of myself. I just laid there and wondered why would God place me in this position. Then again it started to add up because my sister was diagnosed with the same disorder in 2008. My parents realized that this disorder was hereditary, and that I was lucky to be diagnosed early before it was too late. My sister has gone through way worse than me: she is so fortunate to be alive because the disorder attacked her whole body from her lungs to kidneys. I’d still hear her cries when she would cough up blood in the sink, then all of sudden sirens were headed our way to rush to the ER. She was so pale and helpless as I saw her rest on the bed. I cried my heart out, and said to my mom, “She can’t go momma. She’s not even married yet.” My mom said, “I know Nathan it’ll be okay its all in God’s hands now.” Luckily enough she recovered within a few weeks, and was put on medication for the rest of her life. Till now my sister reminds me of that moment, and tells me to take care of myself, especially with taking my medications daily. I’d miss my medications for a couple of days, then all of a sudden a red spot would show up on

the side of my face. That’s when I hear it, my sisters voice, “Do you want to go through what I went through Nathan? This condition needs to be taken seriously, it could ruin your life in an instant. I know you don’t want that.” After that I’d tell myself to stop missing my medications, and keep my sister’s voice as a reminder of thriving independently even at the roughest times. She became the biggest motivation to me whether it may be about my condition or not, I still knew that nothing could stop after seeing what my sister had gone through.

"Family" by Alejandra A

      The definition of family varies from person to person. Is family just someone related to
you by blood? Or could it be a close friend? Or even a pet? Family is defined by Merriam-Webster Dictionary as, “​the basic unit in society traditionally consisting of two parents rearing their children​.” When I think of family, I think of everyone I love and care for, such as my immediate family and my friends. Whether I have known someone my entire life or only for a year, that person has an impact on my life. We hang out and create memories, some memories that are even unforgettable. Without the people I have met throughout my life I truly do not know who I would be today.
In 2017, there were sociologists from the UK who did research to determine what family meant to different people in the UK and in the United States. They studied the different types of families such as, nuclear families which have two parents, and single-parent households. They determined that each family has a different attitude and ways they approach situations. They concluded that, “​The family acts as a primary socialization of children whereby the child first learns the basic values and norms of the culture they will grow up in. a child needs to be carefully nurtured, cherished and molded into responsible individuals with good values and strong ethics.” Although they had a similar definition as Merriam-Webster’s Dictionar​y, the

friends you have throughout your life have an impact on who you are as you grow up. ​A household could be as loving as possible yet the child turn out to be a negative, rude person or even vice versa.
     Throughout my life the meaning of the word family has changed because of my family dynamic. Although my family may not be perfect in the eyes of others it is as perfect as it is going to get to me. I have always depended on my mom and older brothers, they have been with me through many of my struggles in life and helped me through them. However, my definition of family is more broad than a dictionary, I believe if you love and care for a person then they are your family, if you are willing to go beyond your comfort zone for them to be happy then they are family. I often see myself turning to my friends for help, they are the ones I spend a lot of my time with and they sometimes understand me better than my family at home. One of my friends and I treat each other like family so much that we go to each others family parties, birthdays, and spend the holidays with each other. We know each other's families well and have trusted them and each other over the years. Together, we have grown and seen each others personalities develop, our attitudes adapting to each others. I believe that is what family truly is. Now, in today’s society there are no “perfect” families, families vary in sizes and whether there is a parent or not.

“The Sociological Definition Of Family.” ​UKEssays.com,​ www.ukessays.com/essays/sociology/the-definition-of-family-sociology-essay.php.
https://www.ukessays.com/essays/sociology/the-definition-of-family-sociology-essay.php

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“The Hybrid” by Dahrien T

My name is Tonya Lonay, I am 56 years old, and I’m here to tell you my story. I’ve lived a happy life all of these years. I have two kids, one of which is a 17-year-old girl who goes by Jaz and the other just a 9-year-old boy, our little Sean. My husband and I have never had any major parenting problems, our kids were good in school and avoided trouble. When we were notified that Jaz had been pulled out of class, this truly shocked us. The school was being very vague over the phone so I decided to immediately drive up to the school to figure out exactly what was going on. When I arrived, they wouldn’t let me see my daughter. I was notified that she had been taken to the local police station. My heart was racing as I arrived at the police station and to my surprise, I saw six huge men in all black suits carrying her out into a van. I jump out of my car screaming at them to put my daughter down, however, they disregard everything that I said. The van began to drive off and I quickly followed after them. It zoomed through the streets making many quick turns, all I could think was if I lost this van I would lose my daughter. I finally saw the van slow down at this strange, complex, grey building. The title of this building read, “Federal Government Holding Facility”. My anxiety rapidly elevated, I’ve always been able to protect my children from harm but this situation had really escalated quickly and I feared what would happen next.
I had to create a plan because it was obvious that these men were not going to listen nor help me. I planned to record everything that was happening and send it to my husband who worked at a news agency with the power to publicize the injustice happening. In turn, the people who were holding my child would have reason to fear the exposure, giving me the upper hand.
I snuck into the building in plain sight. My disguise was simply confidence and my professional work outfit. I saw them taking my daughter into this enormous room that was unfortunately under high security. My disguise came to an end when this gigantic man calls me out. I couldn’t think fast enough of a lie to say, so instead, I just told the truth. The truth that I was getting back my daughter and would hurt anyone who hindered me. I also added that If he didn’t want their dark secrets being released on the public news then he should start answering my questions.
The huge man stayed silent. I was terrified and my confidence in my “power speech” was very slim. In the middle of all my doubt, the man opened the door and motioned me in. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The room was filled with thousands of kids around my daughter’s age, all dressed in government-like prison uniforms. I noticed numerous doctors applying a foreign drug to the kids, causing them to be in a zombie-like daze. I couldn’t control my anger and immediately demand for my daughter. The man says that she is a danger to the human race. He continues saying that government tests proved that Jaz’s DNA was not fully human and was mixed with an extraterrestrial substance. Under government policy, they are not permitted to release any of these children back into the world. I was shocked to hear the words coming out of his mouth and don’t believe it. This was my sweet, innocent daughter that he was talking about. My child that I birthed and raised with all the care that a mother could give. How could his words possibly be true, and even if it were true, this doesn’t give anyone the right to take away my child. Were they expecting me to just leave and forever forget about my daughter? The man continued explaining that many pregnant mothers were abducted and their normal children were

injected with the DNA of a different species which turned them into a new “hybrid” breed. These hybrids have been living among us. Some don’t even know what they truly are. However, many have discovered that they have special abilities that normal people don’t. The government cannot allow a new species with superior abilities to rome the world freely. He looked me in the eye and said, “it’s nothing personal, only protocol.” Suddenly, I was surrounded by government officials carrying me out. As he says his last words, a government officer walks by and holds a rag to my face, causing my world to spin out of control before complete darkness surrounded me.
It’s been 2 years since the last time I've seen my daughter. My husband and I have tried our best to expose what the government is doing, but every new lead and news report always ends up deleted. They are heavily protected by many sources. To this day, I am still confused. I don’t know if what that man said that day was true or not but, they have my child. The building I followed them to that day doesn’t even exist anymore. I just want my daughter back, she could be anywhere, scared and alone. I also worry each day about the safety of my second child. We decided to pull him out of the public school system and home school him. My entire life I had a false sense of protection, I would have never imagined this could happen to my family. This is not okay, they can’t just tear apart my family and move on with life. I’m telling my story to warn you all, cherish each moment that you have with your family, because tomorrow is never promised. I also warn you all to watch your surroundings and trust no one.
Labeled: Flash Fiction

"Pozole" by Kate S

For me, the best thing about the winter time is coming home to eat warm pozole. Pozole is a Mexican soup that uses hominy. Hominy is made from maize. There are two types of pozole, green pozole, and red pozole. Today I will be showing you how to make red pozole. This dish something I have been eating my whole life. My mom makes pozole whenever it rains. She learned how to make it from my grandma, who learned how to make it from her mom. Although my grandma was taught to make it, over the years she has perfected it. Everyone in my family knows if they want amazing pozole they have to come to my grandma’s house. I am lucky enough to have a mother who is also amazing at making it. But my mom says that she still can not make it without having to call my grandma at least twice. Today I thought I'd try and teach you how to make pozole since it is starting to get colder and rain almost every week. I called grandma to get all the information right from the source. While following this recipe keep in mind this is meant to feed a whole family. Don’t worry it is a very easy and simple dish to make.
Ingredient list (meant to serve a big family)

• ●  6lb Pork Meat
  
• ●  A big can of hominy
  
• ●  2 Tomatoes
  
• ●  2 Chile anchos
  
• ●  2 New Mexico chiles
  
• ●  4 Cloves of garlic
  
• ●  Black pepper
  
• ●  4 Cloves
  
• ●  Mexican oregano
  Instructions Step one
  Fill a big pot up with water and salt. After doing that add all of the meat. Put this mixture
  to boil.
  Step two
  After the mixture boils for a good 30 minutes you add the hominy.
  Step three
  In a blender, you will add together the tomatoes, chilis, pepper, oregano, and salt.
  Step four
  Once blended to a Puree you add the sauce to the mixture of water, meat, and hominy.
  Step five
  Now, let the soup simmer for a good three hours.
  Step six
  Feel free to add Cabbage, onion, radish, lemon, and Tapatio for spice, and don't forget
  your tostadas.
  Step seven
  

Finally! You can now eat and enjoy your pozole with your whole family.
Pozole is really important to my family because it always brought us together. When my grandma would make it she would invite everyone over all my uncles and aunts, and even my extended family would come over. Pozole was an excuse for family to get together so we can all catch up on everyone’s life. When I was younger, I remember coming over to my grandma’s house and smelling the pozole and asking who was coming over this time. It was always a long list of names. These days were always the best.
My grandma always makes pozole on Christmas with the addition of tamales of course. Tamales are a Mexican dish made with a corn-based masa. My grandma only makes tamales once or twice a year because they talk a long time to cook and also it takes a whole team to get together and make them. Tamales are normally holiday food or just something we eat on only special occasions. Normally the day before serving tamales everyone gets together and we all create an assembly line to make tamales in the fastest way possible. You get the dried corn husk and smear the masa on it and then decide what kind of tamale you want to make. My favorite type of tamale is chicken with red mole, cheese and jalapeno, or chile Verde. Some people like to make sweet tamales with pineapple, strawberry, or just regular corn. Tamales and pozole are the best together.
Pozole is a classic Mexican dish that contains pork and hominy. It is a very easy dish that just needs to be prepared a couple of hours in advance. Pozole is super delicious, and the perfect food for all seasons but more so winter. Now that you have a recipe to follow I hope you make it and enjoy it. I also hope you share it with your entire family and it has the same effect on your family as it does on mine. I hope it brings you guys together and gives you a reason to get together the same way it did for me.

"Acceptance" by Angiolina S

It was the beginning of summer. School just ended and I was awaiting the adventures and
experiences this summer was going to bring me. Through the first week, my family and I began taking out all our summer items as excitement began to fill up the house of all the possibilities of this summer. But then that day happened. My siblings and I began packing for our first trip to Peru with our dad as we were leaving the following day. This was going to be my first trip to Peru and my heart began pounding from the exhilaration of the thought of being able to reunite with my family. The house was lit with anticipation as we were almost finished up, but then there was a knock-the soft, three slow knocks on my wooden front door. Little did we know that knock held heart breaking news. I saw my brother slowly opening the creaking door and saw that it was the mother of one of our childhood friends. I could tell something was very wrong from the way she was holding her frail body and the dark circles around her eyes. There was a sense of darkness that crept around her presents. “Dana’s in a coma,'' she said in a low voice and continued, “she passed out as she was up to bat at her softball game. The doctors said she had an aneurysm and it’s not looking good.” Confusion and sorrow began to fill my head as I felt for Dana and her family, but also wondering why this would happen to such a wonderful person. Later in the day, we drove to the hospital in silence and guarded emotions as we all didn’t want to break the ice on what was actually going on. We arrived at the hospital seeing the blocked blue letter indicating “ICU”. Step by step, I began walking to her hospital room. All I could hear was the ringing of the telephones and see other families devastated by their own losses. I saw the small white blocked numbers that made up her room number and slowly walked in with my family following after. Tears fled my eyes as I saw her mom’s red eyes filled with tears just as mine were and we quickly embraced in a tight hug. I then saw her brother and knew that he was feeling much more pain than anyone in that room as his body was shaking from the heartbreak. The sound of the life support machine was like white noise. All I can remember from that hospital visit was seeing her fragile body laying on the cushioned hospital bed. Her hair was laid perfectly surrounding the stitches that were sewn into her scalp. Her hands and fingers were slendered and all I could focus on was the machine helping her inhale and exhale. I held her slim hand as I moved closer to her bedside and began reminiscing of the great memories we had in elementary school. The person I looked up to as a role model, the person that helped me through the toughest times, was laying in that hospital bed with a 10% chance of coming out of the coma, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was gripping her hand hoping that her brother talking to her, or the amount of love and support she was receiving was going to bring her back and her eyelids will open revealing her brown eyes, but nothing. All I was left with was emptiness, trying to think of the last words I told her, the last memories, but all I could think was why? Why did it have to be a person like her? The most heartwarming and sweetest person I could have met was taken from me just like that. Three days later, my siblings and I were in Peru with my dad. It was late at night after a day filled with fun festivities with our family and were getting ready for bed. As I was looking down at my phone looking for entertainment, but my screen was quickly lit up with, “#ripdana”. Seeing those small letters lit on my screen tore my heart apart. From the start of getting the news I knew how the odds were going to turn out, but the actual reality of it hurt more. It was hard to see as tears filled my eyes and grief was all I was feeling. Memories, the regret I felt for not keeping more in touch with her as years progressed all

pervaded my thoughts. Later in the night I got a call from my mom with the same news, knowing that there was no way for her to comfort me as she was in another country. I couldn’t manage out a single word just weeps over the phone. Through the passing months, it was hard as this was one of the first times I had lost someone so important in my life. I tried to avoid the fact the she was really gone, I couldn’t accept it. I questioned all the time why this could happen so suddenly to someone who has never done anything wrong, and began pushing people out of my life-afraid of the image of another person leaving my life. I became a person I didn’t want to be. Through this terrible time in my life, resentfully, I learned that I have to accept when it’s time for a person to go. I accepted the fact that she was truly gone, that I couldn’t bring her back. From that point, I have cherished the time I have with friends and family, both good and bad moments, and try to make impacts on their lives just as Dana did to mine.

“3 Little Tin Foil Pastas” By Kerin B

Food has become a part of my self-care ritual. Eating the right foods, especially healthy foods, boost my overall mood. Becoming a vegetarian was a great way to implement this ritual into my self-care routine because it ensures I will stay healthy (For the most part) and happy. With the help of a little research about what kinds of food I am putting into my body, I understood more and more about what food can actually do for you. This encouraged me to come up with recipes that could alter my well being. I experimented with my favorite kind of food and came up with this delicious recipe.
Ingredients:

1. Butterfly Pasta (Preferably 1 bag)
   
2. water
   
3. Mozzarella
   
4. Parmesan
   
5. 2 sticks of Carrot (depending on the size of carrot)
   
6. 1 bunch of Broccoli
   
7. 2 Tomatoes
   
8. Fresh Basil
   
9. 1 Purple Onion ( purple onions add color)
   
10. Peppers (Green, Red,Yellow, Orange)
    
11. 1 bunch of Cilantro
    
12. 2 heads of Garlic
    
13. Olive Oil
    
14. Oregano
    
15. Salt
    
16. cyan
    
17. Black Pepper
    
18. 1 Lemon
    *Sauces made are handmade spicy marinara and vegan tomato*
    

Materials:

1. Big Glass Bowl (Suitable for baking)
   
2. Bowls ( to hold Veggies)
   
3. Skillet (X2)
   
4. Spoon
   
5. Pot ( this includes a lid for the pot)
   
6. Sharp Knife
   
7. Cutting Board
   

8. Pasta Noodle spoon
   
9. Strainer
   
10. Tin Foil
    
11. Oven Mitts
    
12. Cheese Grater
    

Instructions:
Begin with pouring water into a pot reaching the halfway mark on high heat. Place this pot onto one of the back burners and add some salt to the water. Not only does this add flavor but it helps the water to boil.The water should bowl within about ten minutes. Now set the oven on 350. Proceed by grabbing a cutting board, a sharp knife, and vegetables (carrots, broccoli, peppers, onion, garlic, cilantro, tomatoes). Take a sharp knife cut a lemon in half and cut the peppers, tomatoes, and carrots into smaller pieces (there will be extra peppers place those in a zip lock baggie for next time). With the same knife cut the stem of the broccoli and cilantro off. It's important to to cut the garlic and onion last so that the smell of them don't get onto the other vegetables. A quick tip to get the exterior shell of the garlic off is to take the garlic, lay it as flat as possible, take the knife, lay it flat onto off the garlic and press down hard on it until you hear a crack. When you begin to pick the shell of you will see that it comes off quite easy. Finish this process off by cutting up the garlic into smaller pieces and don't forget about the onion. Set aside the vegetables into their own bowls. Now take the cheese grater and grate the parmesan cheese (just cut the mozzarella cheese into slices). The extra cheese can be put into a zip lock baggie and stored for later. By this time the water should be done boiling so put the heat on low, add the butterfly pasta to the water, cover it with a top, and let it sit for another ten minutes. Next grab two skillets, a spoon, half of the cut up garlic, and half of the tomatoes, salt, pepper, fresh basil, olive oil, oregano, and cyan. Place both skillets onto the front burners with medium heat. Take half of the tomatoes you already took half off and place those half into one skillet and the other half into the other skillet. Do the same for the cut up pieces of garlic you already took half of. Pour in two tablespoons of olive oil, a pinch of salt and pepper, fresh basil (as much as your hearts desire), and a dash of oregano into one skillet (MIX WELL). Replicate this into the second skillet but also add cyan (MIX WELL). While that simmers strain the pasta and set it aside by placing it back into the pot it was boiled in. Grab the tin foil and glass bowl. With the tin foil you will be making bowls for the pasta to sit in and bake. Make sure that you make three bowls and an extra set of tin foil wrapped around those bowls. Complete this task by placing each bowl into the bigger glass bowl. This allows the pasta to sit properly in the bowls. Now take the butterfly pasta separate an even amount into the three tin foil bowls. In one tin foil on top of the pasta place carrots and broccoli, add one of the two sauces made, and a choice of parmesan or mozzarella cheese. Within the second tin foil bowl place all four different colored peppers on top of the pasta, add one of the two sauces made, and a choice of parmesan or mozzarella cheese. For the last tin foil bowl, add garlic and onions, add one of the two sauces made, and a choice of parmesan or mozzarella cheese. To conclude place the glass bowl into

the oven for 25 minutes to allow the cheeses on top to melt and for the vegetables to cook. Take the bowl out of the oven after the 25 minuets has passed using an oven mitt and add cilantro and lemon on whichever pasta (s) you choose to give it a little kick. Enjoy! 

Thankful for New Submissions!

All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group  (November 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 December 6, on Google Classroom.  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!

"The 911 Road" by Sabrina M

      35 years of driving background would seemingly prepare you for any obstacle the open
roadways could throw at you, yet in the shaded awning of the jungle, a million years of experience could not have prepared my father for what was to occur.
     After seeing photos of the breathtaking landscapes of Costa Rica on Google, my father decided that our annual summer family vacation would journey a little farther south of the equator. Our days were charged with bus trips through sugar plantations and monkey territories, hikes through the forest, swims in the humid rain, and a cuisine of the most delectable regional foods. Although we rented a car for our trip, most of the rides we took were on tour buses, as the locals would be more familiar with the terrain than us Americans, but after a curiosity in what lay beyond the tree line urged us to take the car ourselves deep into the wilderness, mystery began to sneak in.
Google Maps had guided us to the most astonishing of beaches, but monkey noises and the impending nightfall urged us to head back to the hotel. With the GPS now offline, we had only our memory to guide us through the foreign land to the safety of our resort. As the road became bumpier, our fears heightened, and soon, we were all clutching the sides of the seat, eyes glued to what parts of the path we could glimpse through the dim headlights. Now engulfed in

the darkness of the jungle, we all felt a sense of impending peril. The road was too narrow to make a U-turn on, and it was too dark to merely reverse your way back through, so forward we continued. Until suddenly, water surrounded the car. Quickly shifting gears to reverse out of the water, we realized we had landed on the bank of a river with an unknown depth. To simply drive through the river would be almost suicidal, yet there was no other place to go. Images of a potential news article titled ‘American Family of Six Dies in Costa Rica’ prompted my dad to send my mother out into the unknown to scope out the area, locking the car door behind her, so whatever would potentially kill my mother could not get to us as well. The river seemed to go on forever, only pushing us more into the terror we already found ourselves in. Headlights, approaching from behind, snapped us back into reality, though. A local was now with us, although we did not know whether they could be trusted.  With the little Spanish I knew, we managed to ask them for help. The angels driving the minivan agreed to drive slowly in front of us, a light unto our path. After crossing two rivers, we realized that those bodies of water were not ends to our path, but merely obstacles. We had allowed the fear of the unknown to overwhelm our thoughts and rationality, forcing us to stay glued to our current predicament, unable to depart.
     Well into the next day, we elected to drive the road, which Google had named the 911 road, once more. In the daylight, the endless river now seemed as threatening as a puddle. But how could something that managed to suck the life out of our very lungs only a few hours earlier now seem so irrelevant? Were we all just overreacting, or was there something more prominent at play that we could not realize? Does seeing the finish line really make our troubles less troubling?

     Many times throughout life, challenges seem to overwhelm us, especially when there is no end to be found. The anxiety, fear, and panic that accompany only hurt us even more, yet usually, the seemingly perilous journey yields a pleasant outcome. We tend to have tunnel vision; only able to see what is occurring right at this moment and never the whole picture. Uncomfortable situations, as a result, become unbearable, and awkward moments last a lifetime. Knowing the outcome before being placed in certain circumstances is rarely a plausible expectation, but realizing that you are always more significant than that which you fear can prove helpful.
     Driving back on that 911 road taught me that when the ending is shrouded in a layer of darkness, and I can barely see what is going on right in front of me, things seem a lot scarier than they indeed are. Humans are not afraid of the dark, they’re fearful of their inability to know what lies ahead. But when the light at the end of the tunnel becomes shrouded by the darkness of strangeness and ambiguity, that’s when fear decides creeps in. How we perceive fear can either enlarge or reduce it, but if I initially minimize my anxiety of the uncertain reality that I often seem to find myself in, I know that the conclusion will have a much brighter outlook because tomorrow and all its promises of new hopes and beginnings will find me.
      I have driven down many more 911 roads since then, in school, in my relationships, and with my own personal thoughts and feelings, and they all have one thing in common. In hindsight, the mountains I once thought I faced began to seem like minuscule hills once enough time had passed. I now know I will always be able to cross my rivers and find my way back to safety.

"How to Make Samosa with Mint Chutney and Masala Chai" by Rumjeet P

     Growing up in an Indian household means lots of spices and peppers. If you can't cook with spices, then your not an Indian. Since I was young, my mom has taught me how to cook different dishes. Samosa is a wonderful appetizer to start with for people who are just learning how to cook Indian food. Samosa is a fried snack than is most commonly eaten in India with chutney and chai.  Now, it is eaten globally by people who love the taste of spices. They are mostly eaten during festivals and as an evening snack. Though this recipe has measurements, I was never really taught off of measurements. 

                                                         (Photo taken by kspoddar) 

Ingredients:
Serving-4
12 uncooked tortillas
(If you don't have Tortillaland Tortillas, please stop reading and run to a grocery store to pick them up)
4 large potatoes
1 Tablespoon minced ginger ( Peel before mincing)
10 Thai chiles (Add more of less for desired taste)
1 red onion
2 cups of Vegetable oil
1 tablespoon of olive oil
1⁄4 cup of frozen peas
1 Tablespoon of salt
1⁄3 cup of water ( used for tortillas)
1 tablespoon of cumin seeds (Jeera)
2 tablespoons of Garam Masala (mixed spices)
1 bunch of cilantro

!Make sure to wash your hands before starting this process!
Step 1- Boil four potatoes in a pot (boil until cooked).
Step 2- Chop one red onion, green chiles, and ginger and add to a pan with cumin seeds and olive oil. Step 3- Saute until translucent
Step 4- Add Garam Masala, salt, and frozen peas. Mix well.

Step 5- Let the filling cool down for 10-15 minutes and move on to the potatoes. Step 6- Mash the potatoes and mix with the room temperature filling.
Step 7- Grab a clean flat surface, knife, spoon, fork, and tortillas.
Step 8- Cut the tortillas in half and break apart.
Step 9- Put your finger in water and apply to the edges as you close the half tortilla into a cone
Step 10- Fill the cones half way with a spoon (DO NOT OVERFILL, THEY WILL EXPLODE)
Step 11-Apply pressure with a fork dipped in water to close the tortilla
Step 12- in a separate pan and the vegetable oil and add the samosa, cook until crispy, golden brown

Mint Chutney Ingredients:
1 bunch of Mint leaves
1 bunch of cilantro
5-10 Thai chiles
1 tablespoon of ginger
2 teaspoons of salt
1 lime
1 tablespoon of cumin seeds (Jeera) 2 teaspoons of Garam Masala 

                                                   (Photo Credits: Rumjeet)

Step 1-Peel the mint off of the stems and wash in warm water
Step 2- Add mint to the blender
Step 3- Wash chiles and peel ginger, add to the blender Step 4- Add cilantro and blend for 30 seconds
Step 5- Add salt, Garam masala, and Jeera into the blender
Step 6- Add half of lime juice from lime (Adjust to your taste) Step 7- Blend all together
Step 8- put into fridge
Step 9- Serve cold with samosa
Step 10- Enjoy! With chai (Recipe below) 

Masala Chai 

Chai is a more of a ritual than a necessity in life for Indians. Many North Indian families drink chai 3 to 4 times a day and include cookies or Samosa as a snack. Perfect time to gossip with a nice cup of chai!) 

 

Ingredients:
Fresh ginger
4-5 Black and green cardamoms 1 teaspoon or 2 sticks of cinnamon 2-3 cloves
1 tablespoon fennel seeds
2 tablespoon of loose black tea
1 tablespoon Sugar
2 cups Water

Step 1- Boil water in a pot, and add thinly sliced ginger.

Step 2-Add fennel seeds,

cloves and cinnamon sticks or powder to the boiling water

Crush black and green cardamoms in a mortar and pestle and/or grinder, and add to boiling water

Step 4-Let  the water boil until it is reduced in appearance.

Step 5-add loose black tea into the water and boiled for a minute or two Step 6-Add milk and sugar
Step 7-Let it boil until it begins to come up
Step 8-Use a strainer over a cup to strain the spices out of the chai
Step 9 -Drink with some cookies or with samosa and chutney (recipe above)

Step 10- Enjoy the different spices included in these recipes!!

Hope to hear back some great comments on how you thought of the recipes. Something different full of spices and lots of chiles that give you a flavorful memory on this original recipe. Hope you enjoy!!!

"Last Day of Bohem" by Jacob H

     In times where the medieval crusades existed and the people lived in fear as hundreds of ‘steel’ headed soldiers roamed around killing whom they believed to be in heathens, lived one soldier who seemed to be an odd one out. The only one who refused to go into a burning village, the only one to pull his sword, and the only one who praised the lord in a more innocent and calm manner, and lastly, the only one to go against the word of the pope. As many horses with soldiers charged into the villages he charged in, heart beating, sweat dripping, and his mind horrified. He knew these murders were spreading all over the country like a pestilence. He commits an act of treason and abandons his position, instead of assisting his fellow knights he flees, however not alone. He assists a family of four, two small boys and their, all seemed skinny, covered in ash, and horrified. Although a man of little words, his actions truly spoke out to the family. “My name is Bohem, please I am not here for harm.” Bohem, our confused soldier raids their food closet, only finding baskets of stale fruit and nearly rotten bread, however anything to keep him energized will have to do, he shoves the food into his sack. Bohem stares at the family and shows the children his sword, one that the average crusader may have been seen holding, he hands it to the eldest son, who seems to be in early adult years. “Why are you giving me this, for what purpose do I have with it?” says the boy. “My son will not follow in these attacks!” The father yells as he pulls out a small dagger and takes a jab towards Bohem, chaos occurring in this single home as much larger chaos occurs outside. Bohem grabs his arm just before he could be stabbed, “It is just for protection, we are leaving and escaping, down south is a village hidden in the forest.”. He begins outside and waits for the family to family them, he waits for a few minutes as the entirety of the family discussed amongst themselves. However, no one has heard the mother's voice yet and she has not spoken through all of this confusing chaos. The family walks out, sacks hung over their backs and the youngest child carries a small book, with the phrase “Poetry” written across its filthy cover. “Child, what is your favorite poem?” asks Bohem, “Chardon de Croisilles, it’s about the abandonment a man may experience when he is forced into the armies.” a creepy response, yet quite understandable considering the current years. A full eight hours of groaning and silence as the family and soldier travel, the shining sun fades below the darkness of night. “We shall rest here, use the sacks to rest your head, we must not all sleep, father and husband of the family, will you assist me in keeping patrol?” Bohem urgently asks the father, “Im William, and of course, I can not trust you with my children.” replies William, aggressively yet again, understandable. In the middle of the night Bohem decides to switch and gives William a tap, suggesting to switch, William does so happily, oddly. During the night William holds the dagger in his hand and stares at Bohem, not for seconds, not minutes, but for nearly an hour. Slowly approaching Bohem, he wakes up and stares at William, unarmed and no way to fight back. Stab wounds, many stab wounds, enough to kill a man, yet Bohem seems to have not passed yet. With coughs and struggled breathing he leaves his final message “Take them South, head towards the protected village and protect your family, do not refuse to do whatever you must, the times we live in are cruel and confusing and you must do whatever you must to protect yourself.'' His final breath passes as does his soul and his life.

"The Creature That Lurks" by Jonathan B

     I wake up, a rare glimpse of sunlight bathing my skin, as it has shown through the window. Waking up felt like such a pain, my body aching from working long hours in a coal mine. I live in a town in Scotland called Fort Augustus. Our town has been known for Loch Ness monster sightings, but honestly, I believe in none of that crap, it’s obviously another outlandish way to get more tourists into our town. Honestly, I have never been the social type, I always hated associating with my neighbors and since I’ve always kept to myself my co-workers look at me like I’m crazy, they have no idea what I have going on in my life. I’ve been taking care of my mother for about two years now, she has been mentally diagnosed with schizophrenia and I feel like the stories revolving around our home town only make her condition worse. It has been really hard taking care of her, I really do try my best to afford her pills and give her a good life but it doesn’t seem like it’s enough. She’s been having recent hallucinations, talking about this monster that has been roaming around our lake.  Probably another one of the town’s stories for tourists, but I’ve been getting more worried about her.
There’s been a lot of commotion in town lately, news started spreading through the town like a flood. They say people are starting to go missing overnight. My mother isn’t getting any better either. When it hits dusk my mother yells on our porch saying she sees this beautiful creature in the lake, but every single time I look towards the lake I see nothing at all. It must be all the stories getting to her again; I just wish this God-forsaken town could move on from these myths and tall tales. Nothing but an old wife's tale that seems to take over the town. She’s constantly getting out of bed at night, at first it was sleepwalking but now she’s fully conscious. With all the rumors of how or why people are going missing, it only makes me stress out.
      The air felt colder; dark clouds started to stretch across the sky. It must be raining soon. I was sound asleep until lightning strikes and thunder roars. I know mother doesn't mind storms at all, but I felt the sudden urge to go check on her. I walked in her room to check on her but nothing, she was gone and it seemed like she disappeared into thin air. Was it the kidnappings! I grabbed my ax that was laid against the front door and run outside. All I heard was my mother screaming filled the air. I was frozen in fear, has she been kidnapped?
      My senses came back to me and I ran through the front door to follow her. There she was in the lake, I could not believe my eyes. It was a creature, not the Loch Ness monster, but some horse. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Beautiful was the only word that came to mind when I saw it. Its gorgeous silky white coat shone brightly in the moonlight, its long white hair looked softer than anything I had ever seen. It’s deep blue eyes shone in the night and sparkled like a pair of sapphire gems. A loud shriek echoed in my ears. I snapped out of my trance and saw my mother her body merging into the horses. This was wrong, the horse was no longer a beautiful white coat, but a murky black skin. This was a kelpie, an old tale of demon horse in disguise. They lure in victims with their looks and once they touch them their body turns into black sticky goo and they drag them into the water to eat.
     I saw my mom in agony and tried to help her but, she was stuck and I realized so was I. I panicked, I couldn’t get my hands off its thick fur, it was like my hand was trapped in ink. I remembered that my ax was on the floor and struggled to get it. After a couple of tries of tugging and pulling, I managed to get a hold of it. I knew there was only one thing I could do, I grabbed

the ax and hacked at my hand that was stuck. I could not bear the pain, it was so bad it felt like I was going to die. I tried swinging at the horse, but I became dizzy and weak. I just felt everything around me spinning, my mother’s scream was fading, I collapsed in the floor and I just looked at my mom, tears streaming from her face. Then it was pitch black.
     I woke up, and right beside me was what was left of my mother, body parts shredded and scattered. A nearby neighbor saw me and immediately screamed. I was still in a lot of pain and I felt weak. I couldn’t get up. After a couple of minutes, the police arrived. I saw them running towards me and I felt like there was finally a sense of hope. They were getting close and they started reaching for there guns. I tried to explain that I had nothing to do with my mother’s death, but they didn’t believe me. I yelled at them telling them about the Kelpie but they looked at me like I was insane. They cuffed me and took me to an asylum, where I was left to rot. I warned them that the monster was still out there, but no one believes me. One thing I do know is that every day more people are going missing, and that beast is still out there.