Flight of the Phoenix: Vol.3

Transcription

Flight of the Phoenix
Vol.3:
On the Trail of America
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Flight of the Phoenix
Vol.3:
Editors-in-Chief:
Claire Bohbot and Sujata Desai
Workshop Instructor:
Claire Bohbot
Grammar Editor:
Aaron Vasquez- Middle School English Teacher
Elementary School Editor:
Deborah Fryer- Fifth Grade English Teacher
Artistic Contributions Arranged by:
Mrs. Ruth Teitelbaum - Art Teacher
Cover art : To the Horizon, by: Zoe Wilson-8th
Flight of the Phoenix Vol. 3: On the Trail of America
Carden Day School of San Jose
Literary Magazine- First Edition
Copyright 2012. All rights revert back to authors and
artists upon publication.
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Route Itinerary
Write the Rails
Seattle, WA
The Choice
7
To Safeway
10
Taking the Bus
7
A Choice and Voice
10
Trains
8
The Day I Sank
10
Speed
11
Journey to the Bottom
of a Hole
9
Golden Gate Bridge
San Francisco, CA
Oldest Man Alive
13
The Treasure
of the Oasis
Red Room,
Green Room
18
HubertandFrancis
21
26
Mt. Rushmore
Keystone, SD
Crazy Turn of
Events
Clothes by Design
28
Murder of the
English Language
33
Interview with
Capn’ Jack
35
30
3
The Alamo
San Antonio, TX
Lombard
41
Paul and Babe
44
The Perfect Gift
47
Grandpa’s Donut
52
Picasso Bill
49
St.Louis Cemetery
New Orleans, LA
Mystery of Lafitte
57
7-Eleven
70
In the Attic
62
Ghost Hunters
73
One Hot Summer’s Day
66
The Grand Ol’ Opry
Nashville, TN
Untitled
80
of U-1
My Guitar
80
The Accordion
The Rise and Fall
Games
81
83
Lincoln Park Zoo
Chicago, IL
Chubby Checkers
90
On the Mountain
98
Mr. Buh Nanas
91
Wolfie and Alex
103
Story of a Hippo
95
Alex the Mt. Lion
106
The Rare Peacock
108
Daisy the Tiger
112
The Truth About
Polar Bears
95
Pain and Guin
96
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The White House
Washington, D.C.
The White is House
115
Frances Cleveland
131
Martha Washington
115
Helen Taft
134
Julia Taylor
119
Series of Poems on
The White House
121
the White House
139
Abigail Fillmore
123
Eleanor Roosevelt
141
Mary Lincoln
128
Mamie Eisenhower
147
Lake George
Lake George, NY
The Pain of Love
151
Who is Lincoln
Anyway?
154
Next to the Last
Navajo
159
Love in the Haight
164
Walden Pond
Concord, MA
Saving Small Foot
170
Camping
180
Big Foot & I
172
The Logger Effect
181
The Legend
175
Rick’s Adventure
183
Mary’s Home
176
A Forest is a Home
187
5
Works from the PWAP1
Road Sign
8
Bobby
102
Cobblestone Mt.
9
The Chicken
103
B&O Railroad
11
The Deer
105
Happy Panda
107
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A Flying Elephant
108
Lick Observatory
20
The Rarest Peacock
109
Coit Tower
21
The Turtle
112
A View from Below
26
Jane Pierce
127
Savvy?
39
Edith Bolling Wilson
138
Paul Bunyan @ Work
43
Grace Coolidge
140
Adobe Ranch
44
Eleanor Roosevelt
144
Johnny Appleseed
46
Mayday!
161
Falling in the Desert
47
The Blue Day
174
Defending Nebraska
49
Plant World
174
Under the Sunset
50
The Lake
179
Danger
55
A Quiet Moment
180
Researching Lafitte
58
Colorless Bamboo
183
Snow Dead
78
Land of Leaves
187
Leo The Lion
89
Falling Autumn
Fred the Blue Macaw
94
Leaves
190
The Mt. Goat
99
So Long
192
The Under View of
Golden Gate
1. PWAP stands for Public Works of Art Project, and was an organization
during the Great Depression that hired out of work artists to paint murals
inside civil buildings, as part of the New Deal. These pieces of art can be found in
such landmarks as Coit Tower and Griffith Observatory. These murals focused
largely on American life in the 1930’s, and are a bright reminder of American
perseverance through one of our history’s darkest hour.
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Write the Rails
Seattle, WA:
The Road Narrative is a long standing tradition of
American Literature, and literature in general. The idea
of the open road, a fast car, and what might happen
along the way has always fascinated readers because it
brings with it a sense of adventure and freedom from
ordinary life. A road trip is a fantasy that gives its
readers and writers liberty to declare their desires. The
works in this section belong to the road. Be it either the
choice of the roads or the length of the travel, in some
sense each piece selected here includes, but is not limited
to: traveling by train, plane, car or boat. The students
worked in both poetry and extreme shorts—that is the
creation of stories in 55 words exactly. Stories about the
road are often more about the journey; what is learned
through the hardships of travel rather than the desired
destination. In this section, students have explored the
feelings of an unknown end and the longings we have to
experience new places.
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The Choice
Daria Karraby
8th
Choose
Choose
Choose
Choose
Choose
Choose
Choose
Choose
Choose
Choose
Choose
Choose
Choose
Chosen
Regret.
Taking the Bus
Karthy Sajeev
4th
Finally. I had been waiting for almost an hour. The school
bus was pulling off the road and I started to hurry towards it. As
I was about to board the bus, it started moving away. I was
known to be the slowest runner in school, so of course I couldn’t
catch up with it.
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Trains
Rachel Chang
5th
Choo! Choo! Choo!
Hooray! The train is here.
Oh!
Let’s get on now, everyone get on the train (says the conductor)
Here we go!
Choo! Choo! Choo!
Vienna Bebla 5th
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Journey to the Bottom of a Hole
Nicholas Gronendyke
7th
The ride had never lasted this long before, but usually I
wasn’t falling off a cliff into a deep hole with nothing but a
flashlight and a briefcase full of rocks. A really, really heavy
briefcase full of rocks. Why on earth did I decide to become a
geologist? You know they say life flashes before your eyes just
before you die. I’m not seeing anything, though that could be
because of where I am—you know a giant dark pit. Maybe I will
live. The hot air from the hole begins to lessen my fall, but not
enough to let me survive.
Daria Karraby 8th
10
To Safeway
Clarys Paragas
4th
I didn’t want to drive to Safeway, so I rode the bus. Boy
was it smelly! The bus was almost full, someone even tripped
me. Luckily, there was one seat open. The man next to me was
snoring! It took forever to arrive. When I got off, the driver
asked for a tip. “No way!”
A Choice and a Voice
Rena Silverman
7th
As I walked down the street one day
A funny little man stood in my way.
He stopped and stared at me,
“Which way are you going to go?” said he.
The road forked in two; I was surprised through and through.
I knew that what I chose could change my life,
One path for joy, one path could lead to strife.
I walked down one way,
Nothing to me the man did say.
Who knows if I made the right choice?
If only the man had used his voice.
The Day I Sank
Clarys Paragas
4th
So I’m on my way to the gold rush. I took a boat from
England to California. When we were in the middle of the ocean,
I kept screaming, “Get me off this ship! I feel so seasick…” So
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they kicked me into the ocean. I didn’t know how to swim, so
sadly, I sank.
Speed
Adam Gin
5th
Trains are a blast
They can go really fast.
Wow!
There goes one now.
I love Trains.
Trains, trains, trains.
Wow!
There goes one now.
I love trains.
Siddharth Kumar
5th
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There isn’t a more scenic place than the Golden Gate Bridge.
Well, there might be, but for the purpose of our map, we’ve chosen
the Golden Gate, because of its relevance to San Francisco and its
importance for the city as a whole. It is difficult to watch a show or
movie about San Francisco without seeing a shot of the famous
bridge. In movies, setting is easy because the picture is literally
presented to you, in stunning vistas and colors, in broken down
houses and dirty streets, on a clipper ship from the 1850’s headed
to California to look for gold. Whatever the premise of the story,
the writer doesn’t have to work nearly as hard when producing a
script. But in fiction, the writer’s job is not an easy one; each
story is handcrafted with specific details that lend itself toward a
particular time and place. Without these details one would simply
not have an understanding or picture of where.
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Oldest Man Alive
Rena Silverman
7th
I couldn’t stop smiling and waving at the reporters in my
front yard, as they scribbled frantically in notebooks, or posing
for the photographers, as their cameras flashed again and again.
Yet I did all of this automatically, without really understanding
what was going on. I had not yet really given in to reality; the
fact that 140-year-old Alexandra James was dead and that I was
now the oldest person alive. I had not yet figured out that people
all over the world would see a picture of white-haired shriveled
old me on the front page of their morning paper tomorrow.
Now that I thought more about it though, I figured that I
could get used to being famous worldwide. After all, I was
already famous on my block. I could truthfully say that I was the
only person on Seashell Road, probably even in the entire city of
Canton, that crabby old Mrs. Biteson was ever nice to. Dubbed
“The Biter” by the neighborhood kids, she was one of those who
had a reputation for both her bark and her bite. If a ball or
Frisbee came sailing into her yard from next door, Mrs. Biteson
would ask every child in the neighborhood to whom this toy
belonged. Once she had found the unfortunate child, she would
invite him or her over for cookies. The child would accept, and
think that maybe The Biter wasn’t as bad as she was thought to
be. Once she closed the door behind them, however, the whole
neighborhood could hear her screaming at the child,
accompanying every other word with a slap. Her yells and the
shrieks of the child would rouse the whole neighborhood, and
someone would have to go save the unfortunate kid. We’ve even
tried telling the police about Mrs. Biteson, but no evidence has
ever been found against her.
She treats me, however, as kindly as she treats the children
badly. She greets me whenever she sees me, and compliments
me on my suit or on my new watch. She’s even gone so far as to
stroke my cat, Sunny, and tell her what a pretty kitty she is. Mrs.
Biteson’s attention makes me a little uncomfortable, but I do feel
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sorry for her. She’s not very rich, while I am rather well to do.
She hopes that some of my richness will rub off on her.
“Excuse me, sir.” A tap on my shoulder brought me back
to the present with a jolt. A reporter stood near me, her pencil
poised over her paper, ready to write. “We have a few questions
for you,” she said. “Please tell us your name, your age, your
hobbies, and your favorite food.”
“Of course, madam,” I replied. “Name’s Eddie Jones. I’m
138 last August. I love gardening in my vegetable patch,
reading, and going on cruises with my cat, Sunny. My favorite
food is vanilla cake. I have a slice for breakfast every day. My
ma used to make the best vanilla cake.” I patted my portly
stomach reminiscently.
“Thank you very much, sir,” she said. “We’ll give you a
copy of the morning paper tomorrow-free of charge. We’re
thinking of having the headline be something like ‘Still Going
Strong: The Busy and Adventurous Life of the Oldest Man
Alive.’ ”
“Sounds great,” I said, though nothing about my life was
particularly adventurous. The reporters and photographers said
goodbye and left. As soon as the last of their cars drove away
along Seashell Road, towards the great blue Cantonian Sea, Mrs.
Biteson came sidling up to me.
“Hello,” she said. “Oldest man alive, are you? I suppose
you’ll be in the newspaper often now, won’t you?” She
glanced longingly at the pile of checks that I clutched, my
payment for answering the reporters’ questions and for allowing
the photographers to take my picture. I stuffed them into my
pocket, my cheeks turning bright red. Seeing my
embarrassment, she quickly changed the subject. “I have an
exhibit in the Canton Museum, did you know? It’s on
taxidermy. That’s one of my new hobbies. Do you want to come
and see it? I’ll let you in for free. After all, the museum paid me
thousands to be allowed to host my exhibit.”
“Okay,” I said. I was a little surprised. My neighbor didn’t
seem the type to be hosting museum exhibits. I was bursting
with curiosity to see her taxidermy display.
“See you there tomorrow,” she said and walked back to
her house. I went into my own, which was small and cozy, lined
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with chrysanthemums and forget-me-nots. The interior of my
house was small and rather crowded, filled with rickety tables
and ancient rocking chairs. I tottered into my living room and
collapsed onto the faded old sofa. So much excitement for an
old man! I just wanted to rest and read; I was too tired to garden.
But first, I needed to feed my cat.
“Sunny,” I called. No Sunny. Sighing, I stood up and
walked into the yard. No sign of my cat. I walked along Seashell
Road, knocking on doors, inquiring about my cat. Nobody had
seen her since yesterday. I began to get worried. I went home
and made a lost cat sign, giving my name and number, and
offering a reward of $500 for her return. On the sign, I put a
picture of Sunny, her long gray fur fluffed out, her yellow eyes
staring at the camera. I got out my cane, and walked to the
nearest lamppost, breathing in deeply as I did so. The
Cantonian Ocean was just blocks away, and the air on Seashell
Street always smelled of salt and fish. Sunny and I loved to stroll
down to the beach and have a picnic in the sun. Sighing, I taped
my sign on the lamppost, next to another lost cat one.
I turned to walk home, when someone miserably cried out,
“Eddie!” I turned. There stood five-year-old Jenny, tears
pouring down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Buddy’s gone,” she wailed. “He’s missing,”
Buddy was Jenny’s Husky puppy. She had only had him
for a few days and he was already lost! This was definitely
suspicious. Three pets were missing in one day!
“Don’t worry,” I told Jenny determinedly. “We’ll find
them.”
“Them?” she asked. “Who else is missing?”
“Sunny and another cat,” I replied. “But it will be all
right.”
She nodded, but seemed unsure. I waved goodbye to her
and hobbled home. This was the most walking I had done in a
long time.
I went home and, after a nice dinner with vanilla cake for
desert, went to bed. I was too worried about Sunny to go to
sleep for a long time, but I finally dropped off.
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I was woken early the next morning by the delivery of the
morning paper. I saw my picture on the front page and read the
headline: ‘Young at Heart: Oldest Man Alive As Daring and
Adventurous as People Less than Half His Age.’
They had exaggerated my love of adventure even more
than the reporter had yesterday. I sighed. I was just an ordinary
old man, who led a normal, if rather boring life. At least until
yesterday, when I was interviewed for the news, invited to Mrs.
Biteson’s exhibit, and had a missing cat all in one day.
I wanted to look for Sunny now, but I had to get ready to
go to the taxidermy exhibit. After getting dressed and eating two
slices of vanilla cake, I was ready to go. I had walked enough
yesterday to last me for a long time, so I took my battered old
car. My car and I rattled along the road and soon reached the
Canton Museum.
The Canton Museum was small and cozy, just like the
town. It had a small, carpeted lobby, with a fire crackling in the
hearth. A few hallways led off the lobby, each bearing a neatly
lettered sign describing the exhibit. To my left, I saw Mrs.
Biteson’s taxidermy exhibit.
I was just preparing to lift my creaking bones off one of
the lobby’s armchairs, and walk over to the exhibit, when Mrs.
Biteson came hurrying towards me and ushered me into the
exhibit. I stopped at the entrance, my mouth hanging open. I
was looking into a large room, full of birds, fish, reptiles, and
mammals.
“Nice, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Biteson. “I’ll leave you alone for
a while to look around.” With that she flashed me a rather nasty
smile and departed, closing the door behind her.
I walked around, looking at all of the animals. My gaze
fell on a stuffed animal labeled BABY LEOPARD. It had bright
yellow eyes, which seemed so real, even though I knew that they
must be made out of glass. And the leopard’s fur! So long and
fluffy! I wanted to touch it. I glanced quickly around to make
sure that I was alone, and then buried my hand in the soft fur.
I pulled my hand back in surprise. I could feel the
leopard’s warm skin beneath its fur, and I knew that it was alive.
I looked around at the other animals in the room; the baby wolf,
the baby tiger, and many others, and the truth hit me. Mrs.
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Biteson had been stealing our pets! The leopard was Sunny, the
wolf was Buddy, and the tiger was the other lost cat! Mrs.
Biteson would take pleasure in causing everybody misery, and
she desperately needed money. It all made sense now except for
one thing… how did Mrs. Biteson change Sunny’s fur color and
get all of the animals to stand completely still? There had to be a
clue somewhere in the room.
I looked around and noticed two small bottles standing in a
corner. One of them read: ‘Mrs. Biteson’s Harmless Paint:
Disguise your pets and your friends as somebody else without
hurting them!’ The second simply read, ‘Mrs. Biteson’s
Harmless Super Glue.’
Now it really all made sense. But how was I supposed to
unglue them and bring them all safely home? I tried the door
leading out of the exhibit. Mrs. Biteson had locked it, of course.
I sat down to think, and suddenly came up with an idea. I took
one of Sunny’s treats out of my pocket, and set it down on the
floor. All of the animals leaned forward, trying to reach it.
Sunny was the one to do it first. These treats were her
favorite and she hadn’t been fed since yesterday. With a large
effort, she pulled herself away from the table on which she was
standing. The super glue cracked and she was free. The other
animals followed her example; the birds flapped their wings, the
snakes slithered, and I pulled the fish tanks off the table. Soon
all of the animals were slithering, hopping, flying, and running
around me.
That solved the problem of freeing the animals but I still
didn’t know how to get out of there. In about fifteen minutes, I
heard the sound of the door being unlocked, and got to my feet.
Mrs. Biteson stuck her head in. “How are you doing in here Ed-”
she said, and then froze, her sneer changing to shock.
The animals charged. They knocked her over, and sat on
her holding her down while I used the museum’s telephone to
call the police. I told them my story and they came and arrested
Mrs. Biteson.
Sunny and I drove home, both of us exhausted. We had
three pieces of vanilla cake each, and then went to bed.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get much time to sleep. I was woken
early by the delivery of the morning paper. The headline read:
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‘Two World Records in Two Days: Eddie Jones, Oldest and
Most Adventurous Man on Earth.’
I smiled. Who said the newspapers exaggerate?
Francesco Savian 4th
The Treasure of the Oasis
Ben Nguyen
5th
Once upon a time, there was a bodyguard who protected a
great sultan. This man owned a knife made out of a god’s blood.
This knife held the key to a treasure located in a lake of an oasis,
and this magical lake was guarded by the God of Wealth.
The great sultan was dying and had no descendants.
However, the bodyguard was like a son to him, so he decided to
gift the knife to the young man whose name was Zano. Zano
was an orphan until the great sultan took him in and trained him.
He grew up to be as fast as a horse, as smart as a dog, and as
strong as a griffin.
The sultan coarsely said,” Zano, I am about to die. Take
this knife and go to my friend Zadmad in Bagdad. He will show
you how to get to the oasis and the treasure.”
“Master, are you sure? Your knife…?” asked Zano.
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“Yes, son, go now…” replied the sultan.
Those were the dying sultan’s last words. Zano ran out of
the majestic castle, hopped on his horse and galloped away.
A month later, he arrived in Bagdad. There were stalls
selling food, jewelry and clothing. He asked all the merchants in
the city about Zadmad.
While trying on a robe, he asked the stall owner if he
might be Zadmad.
“I might be…, I will tell you the answer if you can solve
this riddle: “Which is more important, a gold nugget or a cup of
water?” asked Zadmad, the stall owner.
Zano was thinking, gold has no helpful value, however,
water is a very important necessity for human life.
“Water,” answered Zano.
“Correct,” nodded Zadmad, the stall owner and continued
“I am Zadmad, what do you want from me?”
Zano replied quickly “Where is the Sultan’s treasure?”
“Aahh”…Zadmad took his time to answer,” You will have
to dive in the lake and insert the knife in a picture of a griffin.
Then a cave will open up. That is all I know. Take my son
Akamood with you. He is a clever cartographer and will be
helpful to you.”
The young son entered the stall, dressed in a golden,
Chinese silk robe.
“Hello, my name is Akamood. I shall guide you. Our
journey will start tomorrow,” he announced.
The next day, the two men packed food, water, and
supplies. Akamood told Zano that it would take them one full
week to reach the oasis. Both of them eagerly rode their horses
into the desert.
When they finally arrived there, they were so exhausted
from the desert heat.
For the next few days, they had to survive with limited
food and water and fought often against violent sand storms. One
early evening, the two young men were startled by a gigantic
scorpion, charging aggressively at them. They tried so hard to
kill the beast but soon realized that they were actually punching
and kicking into the air. They lost a lot of their energy trying to
defeat the fearsome mirage of the desert!
20
They were so drained when they finally reached the oasis.
They greedily drank the water from the lake, then dove in. When
they were close to the stone, Akamood started to suffocate.
While struggling for air, he drowned to his death.
Even though Akamood had passed away, Zano sadly
continued on. When he found the rock with the picture of the
griffin, he stabbed the rock with the Sultan’s knife. The rock
glowed brightly and a large door opened in front of him. He
went through the door and stepped bravely into a deep swamp.
He had to swim through it until he was stopped by a tall wall.
His intuition told him to continue ahead. He climbed over the
wall and on his way out of the water he saw a golden statue of
the God of Wealth.
The statue’s eyes glowed red and it said, “Congratulations,
you have found an abundance of treasures. You could have all
the money in the world or receive a magical potion to bring a
deceased mortal back to life.”
Feeling sad about the loss of Akamood, Zano chose the
drink to save his friend. Quickly, he swam up to shore and forced
the drink into Akamood. Akamood thanked him for saving his
life and being a true friend.
For the rest of his life, Zano traveled all over the world
defending the helpless.
Juliet Kuhlman
4th
21
Cheyenne Garza 4th
Red Room, Green Room
Daria Karraby
8th
I stood, straight as a pole, hands clasped behind my back,
waiting patiently in line with the other 539,827 boys and girls in
the Institute. I looked to my right and spotted Agatha three lines
down. I smiled and waved and Agatha grinned back. I glanced to
the left and saw Irene’s line being led into one of the green
rooms. She nodded at me before disappearing.
All the children in Westover were lined up in groups of 50
along the huge main hall. It could easily fit us all since it was so
expansive. Actually, everything here was white. The walls, the
clothes, the carpets, even down to the smallest things:
toothbrushes, hair ties, tweezers. There weren’t any windows
either. Nobody had any idea what was beyond those walls.
22
“Come this way, children,” Mrs. Fitz called to everyone.
The girl in front of me started to move and I followed. We
entered the green room- the only room that was ever anything
other than white. It had been chosen this time to look like an
everyday public library. Original, I thought as I trotted along
with the rest of my group.
This library, however, was fairly impressive. The ceiling
went up into a dome shape made of stained glass, like the kind
you would see inside a church. There were two levels of
labyrinthine bookcases that spiraled everywhere. In the middle
of the first floor there were about six rectangular tables set up in
rows. The floors were made of a hard red wood and the walls
were painted a comforting red-brown color. Everything seemed
to be copied perfectly, all the way down to the ‘Katie hearts
John’ etched into the side a bookshelf and the spilled juice stains
on some of the chair cushions.
Bravo, I thought to myself as I sat down in front of Irene
and to the right of Agatha. Very nice job.
I looked up at Irene, who was fiddling with her hands as
she stared at the many bookshelves. “Wow,” Irene said in
amazement. “This is fantastic! It’s so great that the staff could
get the construction guys to build this library on such short
notice, don’t you think, Maria?”
Yes Irene, I thought sarcastically. It’s just so great!
Agatha stood silently and left to go pick a novel, Irene
began to strike up a conversation with the boy to her left, and I
was left to sit alone with just my thoughts as company.
It was hard to see my best friends and the children of
Westover live like this. In a lie. It was also difficult to be the
only one who knew the truth. The ugly, horrific truth that
weighed me down like a bag of bricks. If only I could tell Agatha
and Irene the secret, maybe they could help me stop the
Institution. But that would be extremely risky. Irene and Agatha
would then be in danger as well.
“Maria,” Irene whispered and she gently shook my arm.
Her sky blue eyes were filled with concern as she looked at me.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I nodded dejectedly.
23
Agatha came back and sat down next to me, her nose
buried in her book. Irene returned to her chat with the fair haired
boy. We stayed like this for a while until Mrs. Fitz called us in
for dinner. Everyone in the “library” filed out to the dining hall
across the corridor.
The dining hall consisted of rows and rows of picnic tables
that seated ten kids. Everything was white, the walls, the tables,
the chairs, the floor, the utensils, the flowers in the vase
(including the stem and leaves). It was as if all the color in the
room had been sucked out with a vacuum.
I grabbed a tray and followed the long line of kids to get
my food. The cafeteria lady slapped some rice and white chicken
onto my plate and I quickly scampered off to find table 149. I sat
down in between Agatha and Irene and silently nibbled on my
chicken as if I were a rabbit. Everyone else in the hall was busy
talking and laughing while I analyzed the perimeter of the room.
There were staff members patrolling the area, searching for any
trouble makers to send to the Red Room. I clenched my fists and
gritted my teeth at the thought of what they had done to all the
kids in this room, including myself. And I was the only person
who knew about it.
Agatha rested her hand on mine and looked at me
knowingly. “Don’t.” I just nodded and watched one particular
staff member out of the corner of my eye. He was looking at me
suspiciously and soon began to walk towards me.
“Is there something wrong, ladies?” he asked innocently.
3…2…1…0. I slammed my fist into the man’s face. The
staff member was sprawled on the floor, his nose broken and
bleeding. Everyone else in the dining hall went quiet and just
stared at the scene before them. And soon I could feel hands
grabbing my arms and yanking me away before I could get
another swing in there. I was dragged out of the room as quickly
as possible and was half carried half towed down the corridors. I
didn’t fight back, didn’t try and pry the peoples’ hands off me,
didn’t try to run, I just let them take me away. Then, I was
hauled up a dark stairway, my feet dragging behind me. After a
few seconds the two men holding onto me threw open a room
and thrust me inside. I fell on my stomach on a hard, cold floor. I
24
heard the familiar click of locking a door and soon I was left
alone in the darkness.
I brought my knees up and cradled them against my chest.
I breathed in and out heavily and began to rock back and forth. I
stared into the ongoing darkness and let the unbearable consume
my body. It would start soon, and I had to be ready. The Red
Room was everyone’s personal hellhole. It would force you to
see your worst nightmares, relive your worst memories, and see
the true evils the world can do.
Suddenly, the room began to spin, and I felt as if I was on
a rollercoaster that wouldn’t stop and just kept going around and
around and around. My vision went all fuzzy and the room
seemed to be blood red. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it
was over. The spinning stopped and I could see properly now,
however, the room was still a deep crimson color. It had begun.
I was at home, in mine and my parent’s bedroom. It looked just
like I’d remembered it. The master bed was pushed up against
the wall next to me, the paisley sheets and matching pillows that
I had picked out were still perfectly in place. On the opposite
side, the small bedside table that my father had carved from the
huge oak outside my house was positioned impeccably next to
the bed. The large twin redwood wardrobes that my mother had
bought at a garage sale across the street were still pushed up
against the reverse wall. My mother had adored the Persian rug
my father had bought for her birthday; it still lay at the foot of
the bed. My tiny bed was still pushed into the corner of the room
with my polka dot bed sheets covering it. The tiny, beat up toy
box that my mother had given to me when I was young was still
resting at the foot of my bed.
I slowly stood and cautiously walked over to my old bed. I
warily sat down on the comforter and suddenly everything came
flooding back.
“Get up, Maria!” Mother cried and I was instantly jolted
awake from my peaceful, dreamless slumber. I clutched my teddy
bear closer to my chest as I gazed up at my parent’s fearful eyes.
“W-what’s going on, Mommy?” I asked as a huge bang
came from downstairs. Father immediately shut the door and
locked it. He began to push all the heavy things in our room
against the door, creating some sort of barrier.
25
Mother rushed me out of bed and I gripped her hand
tightly.
“They’re here,” Mother whispered to Father, her voice
cracking.
He nodded and I could see tears forming in his eyes.
“They’re here for her. We can’t keep them off for very long.”
Mother sighed heavily and shook her head. “We’ll have to try.”
Mother picked me up so I couldn’t see the door and she
clutched me tightly. Father stood in front of us, one hand on my
back, the other braced for an attack. And we waited. We waited,
and waited, and waited, and waited. We waited for what felt like
hours, days, months, years, until there was a huge bang on the
door. Mother jumped a little and Father’s grasp on me
tightened. There was another bang, and another, and another.
Finally, there was silence for a few seconds and then a colossal
crash. I was snatched from my mother’s arms.
“Maria!” Mother screamed like a banshee. “NO! STOP!
PLEASE STOP!”
I struggled in vain to get out of the grip of the masked man
who was holding me in his arms. I writhed around and kicked
and screamed, but it was of no use. The man dragged my flailing
body out of the room and out the door of the house.
He threw me into a car and locked all the doors while I
attempted to get out of the vehicle. The last sight I had of my
home was it getting smaller and smaller as we drove farther
away from it.
I was thrust out of my memory so suddenly that I fell onto
the cold concrete floor in the Red Room. I laid there for a
moment, wishing that I was dead and wondering if I already was.
Then, a light came in through the door and I was being heaved
off the ground. I shrugged off the arms that were holding onto
me. I stumbled out of the Red Room and steadily walked down
the hall to the dorms.
I looked up and spotted a tiny security camera in the
corner of the ceiling. I stared into its lens; I made a finger gun
with my hand and pointed it at the camera. “Pow,” I whispered
and smirked. The lens seemed to shrink back a little.
That’s right. I know. And I’m coming.
26
Nate Shaw- 4th
HubertandFrancis
Kiera Robinson
8th
HubertandFrancis had no idea where it was. It was
walking. It sat down in the middle of the road, grumbling. It had
been walking for so long…like a whole five minutes. It didn’t
know if it could go on. Ahead in the distance it could make out
the shape of a car. It bounced all the way on its little cactus leg.
Once inside the car, HuberandFrancis had trouble
positioning itself and its needles in the seat—it kept sticking to
the leather. It turned the car on and shifted into gear. He sped off
on the desert road, when of nowhere a tumbleweed blew by.
HubertandFrancis swerved, but not before mowing down its
cactus cousin, ArthuryetFonzerelli.
27
Mount Rushmore
Keystone, SD
The four presidents depicted on the face of
Mt. Rushmore were chosen for specific
reasons, namely their internal characters.
These were men full of courage and integrity;
they lent themselves, body and mind, to the
creation and sustainment of this nation. The
stories in this section are character driven.
Without characters, liked or otherwise, the
narrative of a story would be incomplete
and ultimately go nowhere.
28
Crazy Turn of Events
Angel Diaz
4th
Dear Michael,
Life has some funny twists and turns. Like this
story I’m about to tell you in this letter I am
writing to you right now! Remember that I still live
in my parents’ basement and I still have no wife or
kids, just my Chinese Crested, Hairy. Since I have
no meaning in my life, I decided to go to the
nearest drugstore and buy a Wonka’s chocolate bar.
When I opened the bar, guess what I found?!?! A
golden ticket! LOL, j/k …..anyway. What I really
bought was a pack of gum—gotta keep those teeth
fresh—and a lottery ticket. When I bought it, I
couldn’t read the ticket because I left my glasses
at your house…I think.
Your Friend,
Bo
(below is a picture of my dog Hairy , he is
making one of his silly poses)
29
Bo!
My main man! What’s happening my brotha??? I
hear you’re having difficulties reading. Good luck with that
lotto ticket. I prefer scratchers myself. Ooh! By the way,
found your glasses. You should think about renaming your
dog though, I heard those Chinese whatevers have no
hair.
Check ya lata’
Michael
Dear Michael,
Now that I have those glasses you sent, I can read
and I think I may have won! No really, the ticket
says “You may have already won” in giant letters. So I sent
in the ticket to a company called Peerless, because
that’s where I thought I was supposed to send it,
and they would send me back my prize.
Your Friend,
Bo
Bo!
My main man! My homeboy! I do wish you luck on
that one, buddy. I did some research on that Peerless
company you talked about…on that thing called the
“Internet”—makes me feel weird just talking about it. But
they seem pretty legit.
Michael
Michael!!!!!
I’m ‘bout ready to faint. Mostly because I’m
old and shocked, but also because I just WON 3
BILLION DOLLARS. Let’s go celebrate with ice cream
30
at Dandy’s Ice Cream Shop? Meet you there @ 2: 15,
after senior yoga.
Your Friend and Billionaire,
Bo
Murder of the English Language
Kiera Robinson
8th
Melanie pulled open the door, already dressed in her red
garb, and smiled at the sight that greeted her. “Ah, hello,
Reverend Green. I hope you're faring well this fine evening?”
“Yes, yes I am, thank you, Miss Scarlet,” Jared said. He
was dressed as Reverend Green; he tipped his green top hat and
removed his coat. “And I trust the same for you.”
She ushered him in and hung his coat. Jared glanced
around the house, noting that the parlour had been roped off with
yellow caution tape. “So the murder was committed in the
parlour?” he questioned in his posh British accent.
Melanie nodded, laying a hand on her heart and pretending
to wipe away a tear. “It was, and a dreadful thing too! It was
committed with my dear mother's favourite candlestick!” Jared
gasped.
“The very one that sat on the china cabinet for six straight
years?”
“The very one,” she nodded with a mournful expression.
Jared sighed, tsking and shaking his head. He strolled into the
dining room, and his lips quickly sprung into a smile.
“Oh, good evening, Mrs. Peacock! I was unaware that you
had already arrived, pardon me,” he pressed a kiss to Clara's
outstretched hand before taking the seat beside her.
“Colonel Mustard is also here!” Trevor boomed, striding
into the room in his putrid yellow suit and adjusting his monocle.
“Hullo, Reverend. I was just grabbing a bite to eat before the
festivities were completely underway.”
31
“Were you now?” Jared laughed, slapping his friend's
stomach. “I was under the impression that you were done with
eating for awhile...” Trevor glared down at Jared, blushing when
Clara giggled. Julie and Max chose that moment to walk into the
dining room arm in arm, chatting amiably amongst themselves.
“Splendid! Welcome, Mrs. White, Professor Plum!”
Melanie clapped her hands excitedly, following the new arrivals
in from the foyer. “Now the party can really start! Who's ready to
view the crime scene?” The guests conceded happily, and she led
them into a parlour.
A stack of charred books were smoldering in the centre of
the room, and were hardly recognizable as a dictionary, a
thesaurus, and various grammar books. The shiny brass
candlestick was off to the side, and a pool of dried wax adorned
the stem of it.
“Wait... who was the victim here, Miss Scarlet?” Jared
tilted his head, admiring the scene from a different angle and
looking confused.
“You see, the victim here was one of widespread fame and
acclaim. The person who did this must have been dumb –
literally, for they committed murder of... the English language.”
A gasp resounded throughout the friends, and Clara clapped her
hands over her mouth in shock.
“Who could have done this?” Trevor asked, his eyes wide
in mock shock. Melanie turned to face them, sighing and rubbing
her eyes.
“Why, obviously it was someone who can’t read, or at
least doesn’t approve of High English,” retorted Professor Plum.
“Surely, they wouldn’t have done so otherwise.”
“Professor, I’m sure you’ll remember that English doesn’t
have a high form, that’s German,” replied the Colonel, looking a
bit fetid in the brow due to the murderous mess.
“Of course we do, there is British English, the high one,
and American English, which is obviously lower—”
“Boys, stop it. We really must focus on the task at hand,
finding the killer,” said Scarlet, trying to reign the boys back to
the party, “The awful part is, Colonel...” she began, looking a bit
accusatory at each face in turn. “It could have been... any of us!”
The group remained silent for a moment before turning on each
32
other as the tension in the room rose.
“I bet it was Mrs. Peacock!” Max shouted, pointing at her
and glaring. Julie argued back that she thought he had done it,
and so it went until the Butler came in and announced dinner.
******
After several quiet courses the guests began to get restless;
talking about the weather and tennis matches and other banal
deals had become boring. After a round of sighs, Mrs. Peacock
got the pot stirring again.
“Reverend Green, do you have any idea who it could be?”
asked Julie from the other side of the large table.
“No, Mrs. Peacock, I don’t have a clue.” The reverend put
his fork back into his steak with some force and continued to cut
miniscule pieces while muttering away in some dead sounding
language.
“Well, you must, surely God is on your side in the quest to
right injustice.”
“Yes, really Reverend, you must know, I myself fight for
justice in the Royal Army, but, I don’t claim to have a direct line
to the Holy Overseer.”
“Colonel Mustard, I don’t claim anything of the sort!”
shouted Jared. “You can’t be serious. Such proc…proc…
proclammmmations. Well…I never!”
“Didn’t mean to offend,” replied Trevor, taking a swig of
33
grape juice.
“Tis wonderous though isn’t it?” asked Melanie
thoughtfully. “Why are you getting so defensive Reverend?”
“It was you! I knew it from the start!” cried Mrs. White,
spewing potatoes from her mouth.
“Fine! It was me, I hate English! You all know it, every
Sunday I try to give mass in Latin and the people revolt, I’ve had
it! Latin is the king of languages and must be the only language
spoken, and yet, it is called dead. The madness must stop and
Latin must prevail! I won’t have it any other way, I will burn all
the dictionaries in all the world until Latin has returned as
King!”
The group stared silently at the Revered, keeping time with
the ticking of the clock, watching as his breaths slowed and his
chest moved with less ferocity. Suddenly, they all burst into
laughter at the resolve of their little party and went merrily into
the parlour for cake.
Clothes by Design
Karthy Sajeevv
4th
Me: Good morning folks, today in the studio we have a fashion
oriented program set out. We’ll be seeing wardrobe musts for
summer as well as in-depth interview with young designer, Katie
Greenfield. Let’s welcome her.
(Applause. Katie takes her seat)
Me: Well, hello there Katie Greenfield! So nice to have you
here.
Katie: Yes, it’s great to be here. Love your shoes!
Me: You should, I bought them at your store! I have some
audience driven questions here…Let’s hear about your earliest
childhood memory. For you folks not in the know at home, Katie
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Greenfield is a great designer from right here in Kansas, her
designs have even been seen on the red carpet.
Katie: Hmmm…. My brother and I were trying to make a tree
house when I accidently stepped on a nail. Luckily it didn’t go
into my skin. It just tickled my foot. I called my mother and we
got it out before it did any damage.
Me: Sounds interesting! Too bad you couldn’t catch up with
your brother to finish that tree house.
Katie: Oh. When I came back, my brother was already
hammering the last nail. But at least he got to do most of the
work.
Me: Do you have any ideas of dream vacations?
Katie: Many. I’ve always hoped to live in a beach house for a
week or two. I can just imagine how much fun it would be.
Me: I see what you mean. Swimming, snorkeling, surfing, etc there are just too many activities to do at the beach, not to
mention having fun!
Katie: Exactly. Another one of my ideas is going on a cruise.
Even though it would be expensive, it would be worth seeing
dolphins, whales and other sea animals!
Me: I agree. If you could have any other job, what would it be?
Katie: To be a worker at an animal shelter. I’ve always loved
animals as much as I loved clothes. Our house was right next to a
wildlife park and I used to take our puppy, Biscuit, for a walk
there every day. But by the time I found an animal shelter
nearby, they already had enough workers. So I went into fashion.
Me: I feel sorry for you, but at least you found a fashiondesigning job.
35
Katie: Yes. When I heard that one of the shops in the mall
needed a designer, something lit up in me. Plus I’ve found a way
to bring animals into my fashion—animal prints! Obviously I
don’t use any real fur though, that would be cruel.
Me: That’s right! I have noticed that a large amount of your
clothes do feature animal prints or designs. What would you say
is your favorite animal? Or do you have one, there are so many.
Katie: Well, you know, that is a tough one, but in the past I have
often featured different kinds of wildlife together. I had a North
American collection with designs featured around wolves, deer
and eagles. But right now I’m working on the classic—Safari
Animals. It’s going to be great; it’s a mix of prints, you know,
giraffe, zebra, and designs with the elegance of hippos and
elephants.
Me: Sounds intriguing. Who would you say is your hero?
Katie: Jessica Courtney. The clothes she designed were
glamorous!
Me: Yes. She made some very pretty tank tops.
Katie: Jessica made all sorts of clothing from glittery shirts to
fashionable jeans!
Me: Which do you prefer: Rock, Opera or Jazz? And why?
Katie: Rock music is the best of the three according to me. It has
a lively beat and gets people dancing.
Me: Well, it’s time to leave. I have really enjoyed this time with
you and I hope to see you soon!
Katie: Me too!
36
Interview with Captain Jack
Story and Illustration - Christian Girodo
Angelin
5th
Everyone was clapping, when I came onto the set. My
heart was beating rapidly.
I had never interviewed someone when there were so many
people around. I sat down; I waited until the clapping stopped.
Leaning forward a bit in my brown leather chair, I started to talk.
“Thank you all for coming. I see you are excited.”
Everyone started screaming. I lifted my hand. They stopped, God
I love this power, I thought. I proceeded. “Well today we have a
very special guest. Here today we have the one and only, Captain
Jack Sparrow!!” I said.
Out of the sidewall came the Black Pearl, bursting through
the set. Jack walked off the plank and onto my floor and didn't
apologize for the damages. I was really upset because I paid for
the set out of my own pocket—which Jack later robbed.
“Hello Jack, have you come to loot or tell us about your
life?” I asked, showing him to his seat.
“Both, if you want to be exact. Savvy?” he replied,
smiling at the crowd, his yellowed teeth glistening in the lights
of the stage.
Everyone started laughing. I smiled a little.
Jack sat down in his chair finally, his left leg hanging
gingerly over one arm of the chair, his bottle of rum slushing
about on the floor.
“So, what do ya bloody cockroaches want?” he asked,
taking a swig from the bottle.
“Ta know ‘bout cha life! SAVVY!” I snarled in my best
pirate accent, no one laughed at my joke.
“So ya wanna play that game, do ye? Just ask away.”
I paused before continuing, shuffling through my cards to
find an interesting question I hoped he would answer. One card
fell on the ground as a drop of sweat fell to my knee. Finally I
landed on one I thought would be fine.
37
“Are we gonna start soon?” he asked, picking food out of
his teeth with a knife, “Ya see, I’ve got me some pressin’…euh
plans… Savvy?” he said, winking at a scandalously dressed
woman in the audience. “I love me a good wench.”
“Yes we should start, ah, here we are. What was your
childhood like?” I asked.
“Ok so me dad is Capn’ T. He is very old and strange, he’s
even got one of dose funny hair cuts, all tall and narrow in da
middle—very strange for a pirate, savvy? When I was five, me
dad let me shoot one of his cannons on his ship. I shot a rowboat
by mistake instead of the target. When I was fifteen I was his
cabin boy. I swabbed the deck many a times. It didn't smell very
good. But I got paid a fair amount. When I was twenty I left me
dad’s ship to go out on my own, be me own capn’ as it were.
“He gave me a ride to Tortuga. There I got a job as a bar
tender fer a couple a months. Thas’ where I later meet Davy
Jones, you know, during that time he could set foot on land the
poor sod. He asked me if I feared death. I said it depended on
how one was to meet this death. We started to chat about The
Pearl which belonged to some pirate he captured; he sunk the
ship, too.
“He asked if I wanted The Pearl because he didn't like the
idea of me bein’ a tender working with land-lubbing scallywags
and what-have-you. So I quit me horrid job and went to the
docks wit ‘im.
“When we got there he put one of me hands over me eyes.
After a second or two he let me hand go, I looked up and saw the
most beautiful thing in the world. In port was the Pearl. It was
beautiful. My eyes twinkled. He then left and we said our
goodbyes. I rounded up a crew with Hector Barbossa as me
1stmate,” said Jack as he frowned at the name of his 1st mate.
“And I been on dat ship ever since, except of course for that
period of time in which it was stolen.”
“So you did some stuff,” I said.
“Yep,” he said.
“Anyway… What do you think would be the perfect
vacation?” I asked.
“Eh anover one I can answer! This man’s a good
interviewer all you scallywags out there!” he said, pointing at the
38
audience, they all cheered. “A great question mate, my perfect
vacation would be to sail away, leaving ‘ector on the island
behind me then spending a month or two in Tortuga, Savy,” he
said. Everyone laughed again.
“Well ok, we know you’re a pirate for a living,” I said,
reading and answering my next card. I searched for a new one.
“Who do you consider a hero?” I asked him.
“I would say that Will Turner, he’s a mighty fine chap. He
saved me from the gallows a few times and from a hangin’ or
two, I like ‘im.”
“Would you say you two are good friends?”
“I don’t know if he’d like me saying such tings, but I do
fink that we have a general disposition of liking each otha to a
certain degree. So yeah, I fink we’re friends.”
“What’s your favorite type of music?” I asked.
“Pirate music, o’ course.”
“Ok that's all the time we have,” I said, looking at the
studio clock, as the set manager waved at me furiously.
“Why?” he asked.
“Oh you could stay but I'll be interviewing Black Beard.
Savvy!” I said with a grin. No one laughed…
“See ya later,” said Jack. He got on the Pearl and sailed
away, right out of my studio, a few women in the audience
swooned. Once jack was gone, Black Beard came through the
other wall.
“Aw come on!” I screamed. I wished they would just leave
the studio be, the whole thing was in pieces now. I sighed and
welcomed Black Beard to the stage—he was much quieter than
Jack.
“Glad to have you here today,” I said.
Black Beard replied with something incomprehensible that
ended with none other than the phrase “Savvy,” which was not a
proper response to my statement. Everyone laughed, but I
thought it was getting old.
39
The Famous Captain Jack…Savvy?
Painting Circa 1785
This, the one and only portrait of the famous pirate, was
supposedly drawn by one Kiki G.A., a deck boy who dabbled in
paint between shifts of swabbing the deck and peeling potatoes.
The young artist supposedly sailed with Jack for over three
years. He died shortly after this portrait of scurvy.
40
The Alamo
San Antonio, TX
In the fifth grade the students spend a
great deal of time reading about the
folk tales of the world, while studying
the geography of the united states. To
join these two sentiments, the students
were asked to read Tall tales. Tall tales
were the stories of the west, mostly, the
stories that drove our people, in the
early decades of our country, westward
with courage and fortitude. Many of
these stories had several versions, their
characters based on the real and the
imagined, wrestled with alligators and
saved whole towns. Taking inspiration
from the likes of Pecos Bill, Paul Bunyan,
Johnny Appleseed and more, the students
were asked to write a new tale with
these classic, if not rowdy characters.
41
Lombard
Zoe Upham
5th
When Lombard was a baby, he did not like going to sleep,
and his dad would spend a lot of time trying to help him get to
sleep. The easiest way to get Lombard to sleep would be to put
him in a stroller and then run with the stroller down a hill.
Luckily for Lombard’s parents, they lived on a hill so they didn’t
have to go far to find one. Sometimes when Lombard’s dad was
tired, he would put Lombard in the stroller and just let it go, all
the way down the hill on its own. Lombard’s mom didn’t like
this, but his father did it anyway, just to get Lombard to sleep.
When Lombard wasn’t asleep he was very noisy and would keep
everybody awake. As Lombard got older, he didn’t need help
getting to sleep, but would ask his dad to put him in the stroller
anyway, as he loved going down the hill fast. When he got too
big for the stroller he asked his dad to make him a sled.
As Lombard grew older he always wanted to slide down
hills and mountains because he had been doing it with his father
all along. Lombard never slid all the way down the mountain
because it was too far, and he could never get enough speed to
make it over the bump in the mountain and then all the way to
the end. Each year he would design new sleds, skis and other
types of machines to make it to the bottom of the mountain.
One of his ideas was to attach a parachute to his skis, but
that made him slow down too fast and not get enough speed to
make it over the lump. Another idea was to use a jeep but he
ended up crashing it, just like his dad had done one year.
Another year his mom put some washing detergent on the
bottom of one of his sleds to make the sled slide better. The
washing detergent only made lots of bubbles, as it happened to
rain on the day Lombard tested this idea.
One day Lombard succeeded in making a sled that would
go over the lump in the mountain. Lombard got over the lump
and slid all the way down the mountain. It was not until he was
at the bottom of the mountain that he realized that it would not
be easy to get back up. At first he tried just climbing up, but the
42
mountain was too steep and it seemed that for every step up the
mountain, he slipped two steps down. He tried pushing himself
back up the mountain on his sled but he ended up sliding down
again. Soon it was nighttime and he was so tired that he fell
asleep at the foot of the mountain. He tried to get up to the top
of the mountain the next day, and every day that week. He was
not able to get to the top and soon gave up. He also realized that
he would not be able to go back home. He walked, pulling his
sled behind him until he came to a very flat city called San
Francisco.
Lombard liked living in San Francisco, but missed the
mountains and hills. Soon, Lombard found a job making roads.
Lombard spent some of his spare time learning how to roller
blade on the flat roads in San Francisco. There was only one hill
in town, so Lombard spent the rest of his spare time on this hill.
At one point he gave up trying to roller blade on a flat surface
and spent all his time on the hill, even though it wasn’t steep
enough.
One day Lombard went to pave the hill; he made a road
that went all the way down to the bottom of the hill. Just for fun,
he made the road very serpentine and even steeper that it had
been naturally. Eager to test his new hill, Lombard used one of
his sleds and slid down the to bottom of the mountain on this
new, curvy street. After deciding it was perfect, Lombard called
this road Lombard Street after himself.
All the people from San Francisco wanted to go down
Lombard Street, so at first Lombard let them and he figured out
that he could make a living by getting people to pay to go down
Lombard Street. The people of San Francisco started to build
homes besides Lombard Street so that way they could go down it
as much as they pleased, they also liked the view of the bay from
the top of the hill. The houses on Lombard Street were very
crooked and looked so different from the other houses in San
Francisco that lots of people wanted to live there. There were
too many people there and it was too noisy for Lombard, so he
moved to another street. That street was too flat, so he worked
hard and made it into another hill.
People thought that Lombard Street was too short and kept
asking Lombard if he would make another one. Lombard said he
43
would if they would help him build another hilly road. The
people of San Francisco started pile up large mounds of dirt on
different streets around the town. They were not successful at
building good hills; they couldn’t figure out how Lombard did it.
Lombard decided to help. He told the men to pile a lot of dirt
up, and then he would slide down it on his sled, lots of times.
The more he did this; the more little chunks of dirt would stop
sliding, but instead would pack down and it would become
smooth. He did this until he had created several hilly streets all
around town.
These hills reminded Lombard of his home, and he
continued to make more so San Francisco would be more like his
home. As he made more mountains, the people of San Francisco
tried to make more twisty and steep roads on the hills he had
helped them build, but none were like Lombard Street.
As Lombard grew older, he married and soon had a family
of his own. He stopped trying to make San Francisco look like
his home and went back to his real home instead. His mother and
father were very happy to see him after all this time. They had
read all about San Francisco and Lombard Street but didn’t know
that he was the one who had made it hilly. They welcomed him
back warmly and soon Lombard was sliding down the mountain
on his sleds again, with his wife and son. He fixed the mountain
so that when he got all the way to the bottom he could just take
the elevator back to the top and continue sliding all day until his
last.
Vienna Bebla
5th
44
Anna Sprouse
5th
Paul and Babe
Janelle Conlan
5th
By the 1930’s, Babe the Blue Ox and Paul Bunyan had
been running around North America logging and farming and
generally helping people out. Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox
were both very big. It is supposed that he was carried by five
storks to his parents the day he was born, could shake a house by
clapping at 3 months old, and with the help of Babe, dug the
Grand Canyon in no time at all.
This time, they were moving from Nebraska to Canada, by
way of some of the Western States. And since the large friends
could cover a state just by taking three steps, it took only about
three minutes.
While traveling through eastern Montana they discovered
gold. They both decided to stay in Montana a few extra days
than they had originally planned to mine this gold. They found
45
gold mining very interesting, so they started a mining camp, but
they needed help.
The next day they got up early and went to the printer’s
office. After a hard day’s work, they finally finished making all
the posters to start the mining camp. The next morning Paul and
Babe were hanging all the posters up around Montana and some
neighboring states: Idaho, California, Colorado, Utah, and
Wyoming.
ARE YOU A MINER? DO YOU LIKE MAKING
MONEY?
Word spread quickly. Since all the miners had heard of
PAUL BUNYAN NEEDS YOU (BABE TOO)!
COME TO HELENA, MONTANA TO APPLY.
Several hundred hopefuls rushed over to Helena, by wagon
or train, some even on foot. They all wanted to join his crew.
Babe and Paul gathered the men in a large group near the foot of
the cave.
“There are only three requirements we have for you to join
our crew: all miners have to be nine to eleven feet tall, able to
run a lap around the United States in ten minutes maximum, and
carry a cart, full of gold, in one hand,” declared Paul. Paul and
Babe put the miners to the test and a hundred of them succeeded,
so he hired them all. The rest of the men were too scrawny or
short to be able to pass this test. Paul and Babe built an
46
enormous mining camp that reached all the way to Oregon, with
twelve foot long bunk beds and bunks ten beds high.
Weeks and weeks passed and everything was going fine
until the summer. On July 5, 1937 the temperature reached 117
degrees! Because all the men were so large, and needed so much
water and food to feed them, they were running low on supplies.
To create a place to hold more water, Paul and Babe dug a lake
bed, so deep and so wide, so there would be a place big enough
to hold water for everyone.
Babe and Paul prayed for rain; they prayed for the
temperature to go down. Two more days passed and it was still
hot and rain had not yet come. The miners had to stop working.
Finally the rain came. It rained for four days, filling the
deep lake, now called Crater Lake. The men rejoiced, drinking
water straight from the sky. They resumed work the next day.
Even though the plan succeeded, but Paul and Babe
realized there were too many other problems that kept popping
up. They decided it was time to move on, and their mines were
running out of gold. So they told the miners and everyone
agreed. After all the miners were gone it looked like they had
never been there; Babe and Paul left too, on their way to Canada,
at least, last I know. To this day Crater Lake still stands, as large
and wide as ever.
Arathi Ranga 5th
47
The Perfect Gift
Story and Illustration - Noah Carter
5th
One day on the moon, Pecos Bill, Slue-Foot Sue, and
Widow Maker finished gathering all the resources they needed.
Pecos still needed a birthday present for Sue, and he knew Sue
wanted a ride just like Widow Maker, for he was the fastest
horse on Earth.
Pecos Bill tied a lasso to himself, Sue and Widow Maker.
When Widow Maker bucked them off, the pull of the rope
between Widow Maker and Sue was so strong, the rope snapped.
Pecos and Widow Maker were still together, but Sue was all
alone. Luckily, they had a backup plan. They had decided that if
this happened they would meet in Amarillo. Since they both
knew the layout of Texas and all its towns so well, they knew
they would be able to find each other without a hitch.
Pecos fell very quickly and… BOOM! He crashed down
into a desert area. He couldn’t see anything but cacti and dirt.
Pecos woke up in a small house with a bag of ice on his
head. “Hello?” he tried to call out but his throat hurt too much
and a sort of humming sound came out instead. A man and a
woman ran into the room. They reminded him about how he got
there--they even saw him fall from the sky. They told him the
story of his fall as they ate breakfast; afterward Pecos thanked
them and headed out for Amarillo.
48
It had been several months since Pecos or Sue touched
Earth, and after all that time on the moon they were really
excited to see all the people and animals.
Widow Maker was at a full trot when they arrived at a
store in Austin. The owner of the store told him that there was a
shooting competition for the best shooters in the world. The
award was a monkey that could shoot a pistol as well as
anybody. Pecos bought a rifle and headed to the competition,
and when Pecos shot, he hit the bulls eye all three times, a
perfect score!
When Pecos got the monkey, it automatically jumped onto
him and sat on his shoulder. Pecos named the monkey Rogue.
Pecos and Rogue rode on Widow Maker for four days, every day
sleeping at a different inn, before they arrived in Dallas. There,
they entered many challenges, winning five hundred dollars
every time. They saw a poster on the wall of a shop which told
of a steer riding competition and the prize was a fully tamed pet
falcon.
They entered the competition and saw a lot of strong
competitors in the area. Pecos Bill was one of the seven of fifty
competitors that stayed on their steers in the fifteen second
round. During the twenty-five second round he was the only one
who stayed on his steer.
When Pecos got his falcon, whom he named Haytham,
Rogue jumped onto his back and they both got along. Pecos
separated them, one on each shoulder and continued on his way
to Amarillo.
After several days he found a merchant with a bottle of
purple, shiny liquid in it. He walked up to him and asked him
what it was. The merchant said it was a potion to make things
grow one hundred times their size. Pecos bought it with his
money from all the competitions.
Now he had to find something to make bigger so Sue
could ride it. He found several rabbits but they were too fast and
some butterflies that were too graceful. Finally he saw a strong,
fast scorpion that he thought Sue would like. He trapped it with
sticks and dripped a little of the potion on its back. He backed up
ten paces, blinked and the scorpion was nine feet tall. He saddled
the scorpion up and started walking towards the inn. He would
49
wait in the saloon until Sue arrived, as this was the agreed upon
meeting place.
Just then he saw Sue and ran over to her and wished her a
happy birthday. Sue loved her present and named it Scorpio. The
family lived happily ever after… on Earth.
Ben Nyguen 5th
Picasso Bill
Story and Illustration - Taylor Humphreys
5th
There once lived a man by the name of Picasso Bill. He
was a cactus carver or as he liked to call himself, THE Cactus
Carver of New Mexico! One day, he discovered that his oldest
brother, Pablo, died in a fight with a cactus. He soon realized
that he would have to take Pablo’s place as the man of the Bill
family because his father died of a fever years earlier. His other
brother, Pegos, who was next in line to lead the family, decided
that he would rather see the world (although he never made it
past Texas). Here is the story of how Picasso Bill lived his life
in his brother’s shoes.
50
Beads of perspiration were on everyone’s forehead,
dripping down their cheeks restlessly. No matter how thin the
clothing on their skin was, the heat still consumed their bodies,
all, with the exception of the only man who seemed happy,
Picasso Bill.
“WOW!” said Picasso to Lilly, his best friend, “why so
red?”
“Ha, ha, very funny!” said Lilly just before Picasso rolled
his eyes. “But really it is funny,” she continued. “It’s just so hot
that I can’t move another muscle or else I’ll become toast!”
“Well, why don’t you come to my house, I’ll make some
iced tea,” Picasso offered.
“Thanks, but I’ve got to watch over my granny here,
maybe next time.”
A horse darted towards them after Picasso whistled a few
times. He mounted the horse, and with one crack of a whip, the
horse galloped forward at full speed, and in seconds, arrived at
Picasso’s adobe which was just across from Lilly’s place and
within shouting distance. He put the horse in the stable, and
poured himself some iced tea.
“Ah!” he sighed, but before he could enjoy the first sip, all
anyone heard was, “BOOM!” Then it came again, that sound
51
like lightning, “BOOM!” This time it was followed by what
sounded like the shriek of a girl’s scream. It was Lilly, and for
some reason she was screaming for help!
“Picasso, Picasso!” Lilly repeated over and over until
Picasso finally arrived. “It’s my granny! She’s been shot by
some no-good-for-nothin’ man, as tall as a cactus, full grown of
course. I need your help. He took my money, and it’s like he
knew exactly where it was!”
“Now you listen to me Lilly, you go on in and take your
granny down to Dr. Ditch’s office. You can count on me to teach
that guy a thing or two about the world and its creatures, and
why he’s not the only human on Earth!”
“Thanks for everything, Picasso.”
“You’re welcome. I recon I should start gettin’ used to
saying these words because, this here, is my new job.”
A couple minutes later, Picasso knew that he was hot on
the trail of the culprit, so he readied his gun. He held the gun
firmly in one hand and his lasso in the other. In the distance he
could see the outline of a body, barely larger than an ant, but
from where he was, Picasso could not tell whether this “dot” of a
figure was heading towards him or riding out into the sunset. So
Picasso cracked his whip, kicked the horse with his spurs and
shouted, “Get a move on it, girl!” As his horse galloped closer,
the dot began to grow bigger and bigger. Just then, Picasso
knew exactly who the suspect was! It was Billy Ross, the
meanest, worst rider in all of New Mexico.
“Stop right there, I’m Picasso Bill!” he yells. “You need
to save your breath Ross, you’ll need it when you’re in prison.”
The man, still with his back to Picasso, turned around
suddenly as quick as lightning and said, “You’ll never catch me
…”
But it was too late. Before Billy Ross could even finish
his sentence, Picasso had already lassoed Billy and was dragging
him to jail.
The rest of Picasso Bill’s life was peaceful with no more
crime. The entire town was happy for many years after.
52
Grandpa’s Donut
Rachel Chang
5th
One day on Christmas Eve in 1920…
“MOMMYYYYY, Mattie took my cookie!” cried
Clarence the youngest child, her brown hair swaying across her
shoulders, her blue eyes tearing up.
“Mattie give the cookie back to Clarence,” said their
mother Sarah, sighing.
‘‘I can’t!” yelled Mattie, a tomboy with brown hair and
green eyes.
“Why not?” asked Sarah.
“It’s in my tummy and Sammy ate five cookies when he
was supposed to only have two!” said Mattie (Sammy is the
oldest with sandy blond hair and brown eyes)
“What am I going to do with these children? They never
let me have a moment of peace with their Dad away for the
year,” said Sarah to her father.
“I know I’ll tell-m the story about Mose on one condition,
you sneak me a donut after,” said Sarah’s father. “Come here
children. I’m going to tell you a story about Mose.”
“Hoohaaaaa!” screamed Sammy.
“Gramps tells the best stories!” yelled Clarence.
“Weeeeee!” screamed Mattie as she slid down the banister.
“Well long long ago, when I was a child and that is a long
time ago, there was a man named Mose Fenwick who was the
greatest firefighter in all New York. He was born on August 21,
1838 in the middle of a raging storm. Mose grew up to be a
noble fireman. He had brown hair, blue eyes, and a goofy smile.
Some women said he was the greatest firefighter in the world
and some people said that when the great oak caught on fire, it
was a sign that Mose would be a firefighter. When Mose was a
child, he always rode with his father, Robert Fenwick, to his
father’s work as a blacksmith. Mose grew up with his brothers
Wade, Sweyn, and Edward and with his sisters Peeta, Madison,
and Nina. Of course Mose was the oldest. Mose loved his family,
53
especially his mother Maria and his sister Madison. Mose went
to high school where he met his sweetheart, Victoria Fitzgerald.
They got married in 1857.
“Mose dropped out of high school to help his father in the
family business. His father let Mose help forge and cool the iron
but Mose did not have any interest in the family business.
Instead he read stories about Dan Stud, Ron Freer, or Bobby
Watson. These men were three of the greatest firefighters. When
Mose turned eighteen and was free to be anything he wanted,
Mose became a firefighter and gave up the family business. A
few years later Mose rode down the street of Albany saying he
was going to California because Big Sur was short on
firefighters. The next day Mose left on a boat with his wife
Victoria, their five children, and his friend Dominick.
“One morning the boat turned and crashed into a coral reef
and was sinking fast. Mose managed to save his family, friend
and two other couples. They escaped to an island known as
Hawaii. After about five days of surviving on roots, berries,
biscuits, and coconuts, a boat docked on Hawaii and took them
to Big Sur. They got to Big Sur, and after the house they bought
was finished and furnished, everyone moved in. Victoria always
sat in the rocking chair with Minnie the youngest child in her
lap. Eric the oldest and Hazel the second oldest loved to go
horseback riding with their father.
“One crisp winter day Mose was called to put out a fire
caused by an explosion. It was suspected that the culprit was
Jerry Moondo. Jerry Moondo was a fierce pirate, also known as
Captain One-eye. Captain One-eye was very hard to catch and
had a crew called the Hook Blades. The pirates, who all had
yellow teeth, stole property and caused much destruction. When
Mose came home, he was covered in ash and sweat. He got
changed, washed and ate a bowl of soup and some turkey. The
Fenwick’s had a farm which Mark, Thomas, Clara, and Sylvie
helped maintain with their mother. They grew carrots, tomatoes,
corn, lettuce, potatoes, and rice. William and Grant helped also
by tending to the sheep and cows and horses. Mose went to bed
and at midnight was called to put out a fire in the woods,
suspected again as a Captain One-eye fire. When Mose got home
54
he was sooty and very tired. After five more fires Mose vowed
to…”
The children all stared up at Gramps, waiting for the rest
of the story.
“Time for bed children!” said Gramps abruptly as he stood
up and started to walk to the stairs.
“But Gramps you were just getting to the best part!”
protested the children.
“Not until tomorrow morning, plus it’s nine-thirty,”
replied Gramps rounding them up toward the stairs.
“Sarah did you get my donut?” asked Gramps rubbing his
hands together after the children were tucked in bed.
“Yep, it’s your favorite, maple bar with vanilla inside
sprinkled with sugar,” reported Sarah.
“Thank you,” replied Gramps.
On Christmas morning, the children got dressed and ate
breakfast as fast as they could and asked Gramps if he could
finish the story.
“Okay I’ll continue,” said Gramps. The children sat down
and listened attentively.
“Now where was I?” asked Gramps.
“Where Mose vowed something!” said the children in
unison.
“Now I remember, by the way this is 1862,” he said.
“Mose vowed to catch the crook if it was the last thing he would
do. Winter came and went and summer came around again. The
family always had custard, cherry topped pie for Hazel’s
birthday. One day, Dominick slipped away to talk to
Confederate soldiers. Meanwhile Mose and Eric and Hazel had
decided to go on a horseback ride to the mines for a picnic.
They rode to the mines and along the way saw Dominick talking
with two Confederate soldiers because this was during the Civil
War. Mose gasped for air as he watched his best friend betray
the Union soldiers. Dominick told the Confederate soldiers that
the Union soldiers were going to attack them at high moon.
Mose, Eric, and Hazel rode back to the house and set a trap to
catch the traitor, Dominick. Mose used rope to tie fish net to a
tree, making sure that when he pulled the loose string, the net
55
would fall. Eric would run towards the men with a gun chasing
them to where Mose was hidden. Then Mose would pull the rope
and the net would come down, entangling and trapping the men.
Mose put his plan into action and the men were caught and sent
to jail for thirty years. Everyone cheered for Mose.
“Mose lived a happy life with his family. Years later,]
Mose died of a heart attack at age fifty-two because his daughter
Clara died. The end.”
“Awwwwww,” whined the children, “we want more.”
“Go open your presents and maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you
the story about the Princess of Persia.”
“Ooh! I can’t wait for that one!” exclaimed Clarence.
The doorbell rang and in walked a tall man with brown
hair.
“Martin!” gasped Sarah “I thought you weren’t coming
home for Christmas!”
“The boss let me leave early!” Martin replied.
‘’DADDY!” screamed all the children.
The family was all together for Christmas.
Siddharth Kumar- 5th
56
St. Louis Cemetery
New Orleans, LA
—
57
The Mystery of Laffite
Story and Illustration - Kevin Girodo Angelin 7th
Terrified...That's exactly how Vanessa Featherstone felt
now; she meddled in something she shouldn't have. She was
trapped in an underground crypt in New Orleans. Where in New
Orleans, she wasn't sure. Let's back-track a while. It was about a
month ago when a teenage girl, Vanessa Featherstone just moved
to New Orleans with her dad. September 1, 2007.
***
“You go to school. I'll finish unpacking,” said her dad.
“Thanks. I'll call you when I get there,” she said.
Her father nodded with a smile as she grabbed her bag and
walked out the door. It was her first day at New Orleans High
but it was her senior year of high school. When she got to the
front steps she was immediately greeted by a girl wearing thick
black glasses, her dark ebony hair, falling neatly into place in
front of her ears.
“Hey, you're the new girl aren't you?” without leaving time
for her to answer she continued, “My name is Jennifer. I'm a
senior here.”
“I'm Vanessa, I'm also a senior, can you show me
around?” asked Vanessa, taking quick glance around her.
“Sure! Follow me,” she answered.
They climbed the stairs to the entrance. Jennifer showed
her to all the classes as the day went on like science, math, and
history. Vanessa was interested by their history class and stayed
a little longer in than the others. Vanessa was happy she made a
friend.
In history class she read an article in her history book
about a man named Fredric Laffite. Laffite was a pirate who
went missing in 1793 but was found dead with a pierced voodoo
doll of himself in his hand, a month after he had disappeared. He
was also a fortune teller and often had used ouiji boards to talk to
58
the spirits about the future. The thing that interested Vanessa was
that nobody had ever figured out who had killed him. At the end
of the article it said it had happened in New Orleans.
After school she talked to Jennifer about it; she too longed
to know more about Laffite. They stood in silence for a few
moments when Vanessa broke the silence.
“Let's go to the library and learn more about this. Maybe
we can figure out what happened.”
“It's interesting, but I seriously don't think we can figure it
out,” said Jennifer.
“Come on! What's the harm in trying?” asked Vanessa.
“Fine, but if we don't find anything…you owe me,” said
Jen.
They walked to the library and searched for hours and still
couldn't find anything they hadn't already known.
They eventually got tired and decided to give it up for the
day. They said bye and each girl went home to their respective
houses. When Vanessa got home, she saw everything unpacked
and in its proper place.
“Hey Dad! I had a great da....,” she stopped in mid
sentence as she realized she had forgotten to call her dad that
morning at school. “Sorry! I forgot to call you!! I—”
59
“It's okay,” he said trying to calm her down. “I know you
can take care of yourself, just be careful.”
“Thanks Dad, it's just that I made a new friend and forgot,”
she told him.
***
Everything went well for the rest of the month but
Vanessa's grades were slipping because of late night reading and
research into Laffite. The only thing she could find out was that
Laffite was buried in a New Orleans cemetery, and that the man
who was suspected of doing it was George Anderson, who had
been his cousin and his only surviving relative who was set to
inherit Laffite's secret treasure, but no evidence was found and
he was never officially called guilty. She did, however, find a
small piece of paper in a book saying that there was a rumor that
the killer stuck a confession note in Laffite's tomb. She smiled to
herself. She had found the way to figure out what happened.
With the help of Jen, they had discovered Laffite had been
buried in the St. Louis Cemetery. Now they just had figured out
which one, because there were three cemeteries with the same
name!
But before they could uncover any more evidence her
father was planning an intervention. Vanessa was doing so
poorly in school that her father decided to straighten her up.
“Vanessa, your grades aren't good. You're normally high
in the class, what's wrong?”
“Well, um....It's just that I learned about a mysterious
murder in history class and it bugs me that I don't know exactly
what happened,” she replied.
“Why?! You don't need to know everything!! Since this is
keeping you from succeeding, you are grounded from trying to
figure it out,” he said with a stern look.
“Hmmph!” she said stomping out of the room.
That night she decided she would rid this problem forever,
she called Jen and told her to meet her at the cemetery around
eleven-thirty. Jen was worried that Vanessa had lost her mind,
decided to go to look out for her. At 11:00 pm, when her father
went to sleep, Vanessa climbed out her window and crept down
the street. She covered the two and a half mile way to the
cemetery quickly, by jogging and occasionally running. She met
60
Jen at the gate and Jen pulled out two flashlights, pictures, and
newspaper clippings from the mystery out of a bag. The same
ones as in her history book.
“Thought these would be helpful,” she said.
They opened the gate and slowly walked in. It was a foggy
night, which reminded Vanessa of many scary movies that took
place in foggy cemeteries. They turned on their flashlights and
they searched for the name Laffite on the tombstones.
“The tombs in St. Louis Cemetery are very Catholic, you
know?” said Vanessa to Jen. “Most of them are raised or are
entombed in vaults and crypts. It is a very different kind of
cemetery.”
“Yeah, I can see that…” replied Jen with little enthusiasm.
“Doesn’t mean I want to be here just because it’s a little
different.”
It took them about twenty minutes until Jen found it. It was
a small tomb, nestled in between a high Voodoo priestess and an
important Mayor from the 1800’s, Charles Genois.
“Now what?” asked Jen
“We open it.”
“WHAT?! That's illegal!” she exclaimed.
“Fine! I'll go myself, if you don't want to come,” she said
coolly, thinking that Jen would change her mind.
“I'd rather stay here in the dark than be caught and
arrested!!” she said.
“Fine!!”
“Fine!!”
Then Vanessa grabbed hold of the handle of the door
which was old and rusty so it came off and the door hung open,
revealing the darkness within and some steps going down. She
looked back at Jen for a few seconds to see if she had changed
her mind. She hadn't. She walked inside slowly. A chill ran down
her back as she descended the stairs. There was a mysterious
gust of wind and the door slammed shut behind her. She heard
Jen scream followed by a thump which was Jen's unconscious
body falling to the ground, she had fainted. Vanessa felt sick for
a moment and stumbled down, the inside was much bigger than
it looked, and proceeded much farther into the ground than one
might expect.
61
She regained her senses and tried to push the door open. It
wouldn't budge. A teardrop ran down her cheek as she realized
the door was jammed. She made up her mind to finish what she
started. She turned around and walked down the steps. She
thought it was strange that there were steps, but she realized she
would have to stop thinking of silly things like steps in a time
like this.
The steps went on for a while until she reached flat floor,
for which she was grateful. Then she walked down a long
passage. “Why would they do this? Why put a secret chamber in
a cemetery?” she asked herself.
She finally reached the end and walked into a small room.
Fear struck her heart. She was in the same room as the body of
Laffite and the secret of his murder. She realized her hands were
drenched in sweat, she had been clenching them hard from being
nervous and scared.
She approached the coffin, which was in the middle of the
room. She couldn't talk. Her throat was dry. She saw a really
dusty note on the head of the coffin. She put on some gloves
which she took from her pockets. She carefully picked up the old
note and read it with her flashlight.
87 N. Basin Street
New Orleans, LA
October 13, 1793
To Whom it May Concern,
I, Homer J Simpson, killed Laffite. He
prophesied that I would never have another donut
again and that Flanders would be my best friend.
Laffite prophesied dangerous futures that would end
the world as we know it. He had to be brought down.
He.....Whoohoo a penny....D'oh I wrote what I said!!
Anyway he was dangerous so he's gone
now…Mmmmm donuts...D'oh!! not again!!
Homer J. Simpson
62
Vanessa frowned at the letter. This wasn't what she had
expected, but she was happy she found out the mystery which
had gotten her into so much trouble. She carefully rolled up the
letter and put it in her pocket. She hurried on the way back
because she didn't like it in there.
She climbed up the steps and found the door wide open
and firemen and police surrounding her. She stopped, she felt
like she was about to faint when she met Jen's eyes.
“After I fainted and the door slammed shut, I tried to open
it but it wouldn't budge! So I called 9-1-1 to get you out!!” She
rushed forward and hugged Vanessa tightly. She joined in the
hug and apologized about before when they had fought.
“That wasn't a very smart thing to do,” said the police
officer sternly.
“I'm sorry but—”
“Why were you in there in the first place?”
Vanessa described everything from when the whole thing
started up until now. She showed them the note and the police
read it aloud several times, at first thinking it was a joke. He let
the girls off with a warning because they had helped uncover one
of the many mysteries of New Orleans. He escorted the girls
home and notified their parents. Vanessa was grounded for the
rest of her life, or what felt like it. She and Jen lived the rest of
their lives without any more mysteries.
In the Attic
Rena Silverman
7th
It was a tempestuous evening, one of the worst that the
tiny village of St. Louis, Arkansas, had ever seen. Rain lashed
mercilessly against the sturdy walls of the cottages and the
incessant rumble of thunder mingled with the shrieking
phantom-like howling of the wind. On this night, of all nights,
when the villagers should have been safe at home in their snug
little houses, nearly all of them were huddled in the St. Louis
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Graveyard, their cloaks drawn tightly around them, their heads
bowed against the freezing wind and rain. They were paying
their last respects to Mr. Justin Lafayette, and his wife, Mrs.
Catharine Lafayette, both of whom had died in a train crash.
A sudden flash of lightning illuminated a small girl, about
six or seven years old, standing a little way apart from the throng
of people. Her name was Charlotte, and she was the oldest child
of Mr. and Mrs. Lafayette. A few yards away stood a neighbor,
kind old Mrs. Smithson, looking hopelessly, yet sympathetically
at Charlotte. Charlotte’s four-year-old sister, Amelia, clung to
Mrs. Smithson’s hand. She looked confused, but still managed
to throw Charlotte a haughty, righteous glance. Amelia, for one,
had not refused the villagers’ consolations, seemed unemotional
over her parents’ deaths, or kicked poor Mrs. Smithson in the
shins. She had witnessed her older sister, only a few hours
before, do all of these.
Charlotte, for her part, stood still, trying to keep her
balance in the strong wind. She glared at the villagers, daring
them to offer her a word of comfort. Seeing her glower, they
quickly passed her by, stopping instead to soothe Amelia, who
was sobbing hard, knowing that that was what she ought to be
doing at the funeral of her parents. Charlotte knew that Amelia,
like herself, felt no sorrow over their parents’ deaths, but they
felt this way for very different reasons. Amelia, being only four,
did not know them very well, and would soon forget. Charlotte
knew them better, but did not love them. She did not love
anyone. Her whole being was already, at such a young age,
turned against the world. Nobody knew why she was like this.
Everybody in St. Louis had always treated her kindly. After all,
not every little girl was the daughter of the richest family in the
village. Charlotte, from the time she was a baby, had been an
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awful child. She had kicked and bitten anybody that came too
close, and no punishment or kind word had ever made her stop
her badness, or even think twice about it. Some of the more
superstitious villagers even went so far as to call her a child of
the devil.
Charlotte’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a cry of,
“Oh, you poor little girl,” as a villager, seeing her standing alone,
ran to her, arms outstretched. Charlotte hastily began to glare at
the oncoming figure, but it was too late. She found herself being
hugged tightly and her head being patted, and her hand being
held. Charlotte, with a cry of rage, wrenched herself out of the
villager’s arms, aimed a kick at the villager’s shins, and ran. She
sprinted away from the graveyard, away from the sobbing and
shrieks of the crowd, away from Mrs. Smithson, who was calling
after her, and away from the tearful sympathizing of the
villagers.
She ran between the small cottages, slipping often on the
muddy roads and wet rocks. She did not know where she was
going, and she did not care. She would go just about anywhere
to get away from the graveyard and the wailing crowd. To her
surprise, when she stopped to catch her breath, she found herself
at the gate of her own house. She opened it, and walked up the
path towards the front door. She tried the door, but of course it
did not open. Being a resourceful girl, even though she was so
wicked, Charlotte, walked back into the downpour, and heaving
up the largest rock that she could find, she threw it as hard as she
could at the kitchen window. The window was made of a
delicate thin glass, and when the rock hit, the window instantly
shattered. Charlotte walked towards the window, and looked up
at it. It was just above her reach. She climbed into a nearby tree,
and stretched out her arms. With the tips of her fingers, she
could just barely touch the windowsill. She leaned a little farther
out, and managed to get her fingers fastened around the sill.
From there, she swung herself through the window into the
house.
The first thing that she did, of course, was to raid the
refrigerator and the pantry, taking all of the cakes and pies. She
then decided to go play in the attic and break a few toys. As she
climbed the stairs, her eyes suddenly lit up with an evil,
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triumphant gleam. She knew exactly which toy to play with—
the one toy in the whole attic that her mother had forbidden her
to play with, saying that it was too old and delicate! She took
the remaining steps at a run, and arrived panting in the attic. She
gazed up at the toy, which was on top of a cupboard. It looked
rather like a lantern. Its walls were wooden, and it had a clear
glass door. She ran downstairs to get a stool, which she lugged
up the rickety wooden stairs to the attic. Placing the stool next to
the cupboard, she stood on it, and found herself eye level with
the toy.
Now that she was up close, she could see through the glass
door into the inside of the case. Standing in the case was a little
boy, wearing an old-fashioned sailor suit. As Charlotte peered at
him, she thought that he reminded her of pictures that she had
seen of her uncle Jim. Jim had been a mischievous little boy,
and had died mysteriously at the age of eight. He had been the
only person that Charlotte had ever admired. People had also
called him a child of the devil. As she watched, the figure
waved at her. She started, and then guessed that the toy was
probably wind-up. Then, as she watched, the figure beckoned to
her. Suddenly the lights flickered, and then went out. Only the
figure was left glowing in the darkness. Charlotte curiously
opened the case and stuck her finger in. Suddenly the case
swallowed her whole. She was in the case with the boy, who
had suddenly grown larger than her. He grinned at her, mouthed
the word, “Jim,” and then vanished. Suddenly, she was left
standing there, alone, and immobile. And stand there she did for
thirty years.
*
*
*
Thirty years later, a face loomed in front of the glass. It
was the face of a boy named Joe, Amelia’s youngest son.
Charlotte smiled and waved. She beckoned to him. Then she
mouthed, “Charlotte” and vanished.
66
One Hot Summer’s Day
Daria Karraby
8th
It’s funny how a measly trick can turn into so much more.
It’s a wonder how a group of small girls could cause such
uproar. It wasn’t supposed to get that crazy. We didn’t mean for
so many to be hanged, stoned, and drowned. It was a joke. Just a
mere prank that a couple of girls came up with one hot summer
day…
. . . . . . .
“I am full of envy,” Ann sighed as she tucked her legs
behind her.
“Just be glad that we are not the ones out there working and
sweating like dogs,” Abigail retorted and glanced out the
window.
My cousin, Abigail Williams, our friends, Elizabeth
Hubbard and Ann Putnam, and I were sitting in a circle on the
floor of mine and Abby’s bedroom. My father, Samuel Parris,
was offered the position of Reverend in Salem Village and he
took it without hesitation. The town was small and when our
family arrived we were welcomed by all. Abigail enjoyed the
attention but I did not. Then again, it was hard not to look at
Abigail, what with her long golden hair, big blue eyes, button
nose, and tiny waist. I was not nearly as statuesque.
I picked at the hem of my dress as the silence settled over the
room again. Elizabeth was quietly sewing her brother’s Sunday
clothes, Ann was petting my family’s cat as it sat in her lap and
purred; Abigail continued to stare longingly out the window.
There was a soft knock on the door and everyone instantly
turned their heads toward the noise.
“Come in,” I called.
Our slave girl, Tituba, hurried inside and set down clean
sheets on the bed. All the girls grimaced at her. She turned back
toward us.
“You are dismissed,” I said disdainfully and Tituba scurried
off.
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The room became still again. A few minutes passed and
Abigail cleared her throat loudly. Everyone looked up. She was
wearing her signature, sly, mischievous smile. All of us
instinctively leaned in closer.
“What is it?” Elizabeth asked.
Abigail bit her lip and raised her eyebrows and let them fall
again, but she stayed silent.
“Oh, get on with it, Abby,” I urged.
“Very well,” she obliged. “Considering the fact that we are
all so bored I say that we have a little fun.”
“What do you mean?” Ann questioned.
“What I mean is that I have conjured a brilliant and quite
remarkable plan, if I do say so myself, that I wish all of you to
participate in,” she replied.
“So what is the actual plan?” I wondered out loud.
“Well, tomorrow I want all of you to come…”
. . . . . . .
I twisted my hands together nervously as I waited for a
knock on our door. Abigail glared at me from her spot across the
room next to Mama as if to say, Don’t you dare mess this up. I
gave a small nod and went back to staring at my lap. My father
came into the room with my older brother Daniel behind him. He
was wearing his everyday attire, a felt hat, collared white shirt,
doublet, breeches, stockings, and buckled shoes. Daniel was
wearing something similar. Father rolled up the cuffs of his
sleeves.
“We’re off then.” He kissed the top of my head and
Abigail’s. “Behave girls.”
“Yes, Papa,” I said.
“Yes, Uncle,” Abigail replied.
When the door shut, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was
holding. I had never lied to my father before, for it was a sin and
any child who committed a sin was punished. That’s why I knew
that if the girls and I were to be discovered, we would be hanged.
The thought made my hands tremble and my knees shake with
apprehension.
After a few minutes there was a knock on the door. Tituba
ran to answer it. Elizabeth and Ann brushed past the slave and
walked in with matching smirks.
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“Good afternoon, Mrs. Parris,” they both chorused
innocently.
“Good afternoon girls,” Mama replied and then returned to
her knitting.
Abigail and I got up and led Ann and Lizzie to our room.
Abigail quickly shut the door and the other girls went into a fit of
giggling.
“This is so exciting,” Ann exclaimed as she did a little giddy
bounce.
Abigail smiled and took a seat on her bed. The rest of us sat
on the floor.
“Does everyone remember their part of the plan?” she asked.
Ann and Lizzie nodded vigorously. I ducked my head and
said nothing.
“Betty?” Abigail questioned. I looked up nervously and was
met with piercing electric blue eyes staring at me. “Are you
in…or not?”
I glanced at Elizabeth and Ann. Both were looking at me
with unblinking eyes, waiting for my answer. Their judgmental
gazes were too much so I looked down at my lap. I could feel my
breathing get shallow and my heart began to beat at an unusual
pace. It felt like the room was spinning and I put my hands on
the ground to steady myself. There were so many reasons that I
should say no. We could be discovered and killed, for lying was
a sin and God frowned upon sin. My family would be thrown out
of the village and shunned. However, I still looked up and smiled
shakily.
“I am in.”
All the girls grinned. It was time to begin. Abigail gave me
one last look and screamed a blood curdling scream that
practically shook the house. She fell to the ground and began to
shake wildly while still screaming. After a few moments
Elizabeth and Ann copied her movements and actions. Suddenly,
our door burst open and Mama stood in the doorway with Tituba
behind her. Mama’s face turned pale white as she saw the girls
shrieking and writhing uncontrollably on the floor. She ran
toward them and tried to pin them down but couldn’t. She turned
toward me pleadingly and I took this as my cue. I dropped to the
ground and began to screech and quake along with the others.
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Tituba and Mama tried their best to calm us down by speaking
soothing words, but we kept up our act. Mama hurriedly told
Tituba to get my father and Reverend Lawson. Tituba ran off as
the girls began to stop screaming and I followed their lead. They
clutched their knees to their chests and began to rock back and
forth while muttering a bunch of gibberish. I copied them on this
as well. Mother hysterically went from one of us to the other,
trying to find out what was wrong. When she reached Abigail,
Abigail began mumble something that sounded like English.
“What did you say, Abby?” Mama asked reassuringly.
“Th-there are p-pins p-poking m-me,” she stuttered.
“Me- too,” Elizabeth said.
Ann and I mumbled that pins were poking us as well.
Mama’s eyes widened in alarm just as Papa and Reverend
Lawson hurried in the room. They dropped to their knees and we
all began to scream again while complaining about the “pins”
poking and prodding us. Elizabeth and Ann began to twist their
bodies into peculiar positions such as bringing their legs up
behind their heads. Abigail and I stood and began to throw things
across the room at the walls. I grabbed a book and started to rip
it apart savagely as Abigail hurled a lamp at the door. After a
few minutes of continuing this we all stopped our shenanigans.
The room was deadly silent; the only sound was the panting of
our ragged breath.
Reverend Lawson stood up unsteadily and turned toward my
mother and father. “Witches,” he whispered quietly, as if he
were trying to convince himself that what was going on was real.
“They’ve been possessed by witches.”
. . . . . . .
And thus began an event that started a mass killing of
innocent men and women in Salem. An event that would go
down in history books as the Salem Witch Trials. And all
because a group of girls had nothing better to do one hot summer
day.
70
7-Eleven
Ariana Khojasteh
7th
I walked into 7-Eleven and looked for milk for my family.
The door creaked slightly as I entered, making me slightly
embarrassed about the sound. I looked around the store for the
milk, and couldn’t find it.
“Where is the milk, sir?” I asked with a small voice.
“Oh sorry, young man, we have moved things around a
little. Let me ask Rufus, he knows where everything is.” The
clerk turned to a small man, presumably Rufus, with red hair,
purple eyes and leaning over slightly with a hunch on his back.
“Rufus? The milk.”
“Oh…come with me young man, I’ll show you to our cow.”
Rufus turned towards the back door, leaving his broom on the
wall.
I followed Rufus around the corner and into the back room
where he stopped for a moment at a slimy sink, he turned on the
water and it came out red. My heart was beating so fast and I had
lost the ability to breathe. My breathing slowed and we resumed
our mission to “find the cow.”
“Looks like the cow is home for the night,” said Rufus,
peeking his small head out of the doorway. “Guess we’ll have to
get some from the refrigerator.”
As I was handing the cashier the money, I peered out of
the window and saw a dark gloomy cloud. While I was walking
back to my house, the air was getting a stark chill and the sky
had lost all color. Fog began seeping through the trees in the
park on the other side of the road, and I wished I had worn a
thicker sweater. There the noises were again. I tripped turning
around too fast to see if someone was behind me and nearly
dropped my milk. The fog was so thick.
Huffing and puffing I struggled to get my keys out of my
pocket and slammed them into the lock. As soon as I got inside, I
locked the door and put in the security code. I went to my room
and got my stuffed T-rex, named Gangsta Wubsy. I slowly
walked toward the couch and shivered as I sat down, even the air
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in my house seemed colder. I hugged Gagsta Wubsy and bit his
ear hoping my parents would return soon.
To pass the time, and ease my fears, I turned on the telly
to watch Tales of the Undead. The episode was just starting and
it had my favorite actor in it, Brad Mitt. The title of the episode
flashed across the screen, “The Boy Who Was Scared of 7
Eleven.”
It sounded like it would be a good one, though it felt a
little familiar, like I’d seen it before. It was about a boy, named
Lott, which was eerily close to my name, Scott, who went into a
7 Eleven to buy eggs for his family. He ran into a clerk named
Mufus who was very strange and reminded me greatly of Rufus,
the odd clerk I had met earlier. It wasn’t a very interesting story,
so I turned it off. I mean who wants to watch a story about eggs?
“Ding, dong,” sounded the front bell. Who could that be?
“Ding, dong,” sounded the door again. I was taught not to
answer the door when I’m home alone. So I stayed put on the
couch.
“Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Ding, dong.”
“Sheesh!” I said. “Fine! I’m coming!” I said, grabbing
Gangsta Wubsy and dragging him to the door. I’m almost tall
for my age, 12 that is, but I still had to go on my tip toes to look
out the peephole. There was nothing there but a big black
splotch.
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“Open up!” a dark voice said. Whoever it was sounded
muffled, but I stayed my ground and held on more tightly to
Gangsta.
“Open up!’ said a different voice, one that sounded more
feminine.
I looked back out the hole one more time and vaguely
remembered my mother leaving the house wearing pearls this
morning so I asked the strangers outside to answer a question
only my parents could.
“What is the color of Gangsta Wubsy? I won’t open the
door without a correct answer.” I said, standing up straighter,
having finally decided on a plan.
“He is dark blue on the outside, light blue in the middle
with teal spots,” said a voice that sounded more and more like
my mother’s.
“Correct!”I shouted with joy, and opened the door.
“We left our house keys at home Scott. Wish you would
have opened the door sooner,” said my Dad, putting down his
bag of party supplies. “This fog is getting thicker and colder.
You left the milk out?” he asked, staring at the bag from the
store that I had left lazily on the floor.
“Don’t worry Don,” said my mother, “it’s cold enough in
this house, I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll put it away now.”
We quickly ate dinner and spent a few minutes washing
apples for the bobbing and decorated the house with streamers
and fake spider webs and put RIP signs in the grass. I went
upstairs slowly, but heard the faint whisper of that song again.
This time it was slightly louder and I could almost make out the
word ‘ashes.’
I brushed my teeth quickly. I knew that I was a little too
old to still be hanging out with Gangsta, but given the day I had
had, it seemed necessary to pretend I was still 5. I looked out the
window, and saw the fog had cleared slightly, but only near the
tree in my backyard. I saw two twin girls standing in clothing
from the 1920’s. Their skin was as pale as snow and their hair in
braids. Their mouths appeared to be moving and again I heard a
song. This time it was more clearly evident that the song was
“Ring-Around-A-Rosie.” I was deeply frightened and ran to my
parents room under the pretense of a “sleepover.”
73
I tried to ignore the feeling and get on with the party.
Charlie and his parents came inside and we all went to bob for
apples. I could smell victory before we even got to the barrel and
I ended up beating Charlie, four apples to one. After the game I
decided to go get my fortune read; my parents had hired
someone to read them for the party.
I went into the tent we had set up, only to find Rufus was
the fortune teller. I sat down anyway and saw his crystal ball
swirling.
“Any cows here?” I asked with a smile, trying to lighten
the mood that had just gone creepy.
“Sit, my son,” he said, “give me your hands and I will tell
you the future.” I gave him my hands and he began to read the
lines in my palm. “Aaahh, have you been hearing strange noises
or songs lately my friend?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered, sweat dripping down my face. I looked
into the ball only to see a reflection of the twins. They began
singing and got louder and louder. Suddenly I fell into a deep
sleep and could hear nothing but the song repeating. I found
myself awake in my bed on what appeared to be the next
morning. I could see my mother in the doorway of my room, her
lips moving, but I heard no sound come from them. All I could
hear were the voices of those little girls singing the song over
and over.
Ghost Hunters
Clayton Moore
7th
Date: Friday December 13, 2002
Time: 10:27 pm
Location: Chesapeake, VA
Derek was just coming out of the van all dressed in his
ghost hunter’s outfit. It included a tan vest with a utility belt
74
filled with a knife, a flashlight, a walkie-talkie, and many other
tools that he didn’t know how to use.
“Where’s Gesseli?” asked Derek as he put on his miner’s
helmet.
Bill, the one and only person in the camera crew, was
tinkering with his equipment and wasn’t really paying attention.
He was mumbling to himself something about McDonald’s
messing up his order. He shoved a handful of fries into his
mouth and toke a big gulp of his large Dr. Pepper.
“BILL!” screamed Derek.
Bill jumped up and dropped his burger on the ground,
making a big mess of mustard.
“Hey! You owe me two ninety-five!” argued Bill.
“Sorry. Where’s Gesseli? Our Live Friday the Thirteenth
episode comes on in three minutes!” said Derek as he stole one
of Bill’s fries.
“Oh, he went to pick up some coffee,” said Bill as he took
off his Baltimore Ravens cap and scratched his bald head.
“Don’t ask me why a 16 year old kid with ADD needs coffee.”
Derek chuckled when his assistant, Richard Gesseli, came
running with a tray full of coffee, taking a sip from each cup
every other second.
“Richard Gesseli (slurp) reporting for (slurp) duties Mr.
(slurp) Schmidt!” said Richard.
“Okay, guys. I know we haven’t found a real ghost yet but
I have a good feeling about tonight! Let’s go across the street
and start rolling!” said Derek.
“Wait! Can I (slurp) at least (slurp) finish my (slurp)
coffee (slurp)?” asked Richard.
“You didn’t let me finish. Nobody knows what happened
down there because when the police investigated, everything was
charred and burnt in the basement. It is said that, while alive, the
little girl kept on crying for her mother inside the basement.
Legend has it that her ghost roams through the house, looking for
her mother,” said Derek.
Bill yawned and said, “Okay, whatever, lets go in.”
Richard threw away his remaining cups of coffee and they
walked across the street to the supposedly haunted house
(actually Richard sprinted there and back three times before
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Derek got there and 5 more times before Bill could get there).
Richard was about to run through the door but luckily Derek
grabbed him before he could hurt himself. They looked straight
up at the two storie house that was tall but very dilapidated.
“Okay we’re live in two seconds…you’re on,” said Bill
unenthusiastically.
“Hello, my name is Derek Schmidt you are about to watch
the Phantom Catchers. In this episode we are here in
Chesapeake, Virginia. About 50 years ago a little girl was
kidnapped and the abductors who lived in this house, hid her in
the basement. One day, the criminals went to check up on her
and the whole room blew up!
“Nobody knows what happened down there because when
the police investigated, everything was charred and burnt in the
basement. It is said that, while alive, the little girl kept on crying
for her mother inside the basement. Legend has it that her ghost
roams through the house, looking for her mother. Now today—”
said Derek.
Suddenly all of the electronic equipment except for their
miner helmets and flashlights turned off. Shortly after, the air
dropped twenty degrees and Richard shuddered. Then, out of
nowhere, the front door fell off as if it had no hinges.
Right after Richard dodged the 75-pound door he said,
“Did you guys just see that? And what's that black stuff over by
the cellar door?”
The door that Richard was talking about was about 10
yards behind the door that just fell down. It was a cellar door that
was charred and falling apart. It had ashes on it and around it.
There was also very old police investigation tape but a
surprisingly new and shiny chain with a padlock. They weren’t
able to open it with any of their tools.
“Did anyone hear that really creepy laugh, it sounded like
a little girl?” asked Bill nervously as he tried to break the lock
with wire cutters.
“I don’t know but I heard a creepy voice say, ‘Where are
you mommy?’” explained Derek as he tried to pick the lock with
a paperclip.
“Let’s explore it a little more!” gleefully shouted Richard.
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“Okay guys lets go up the stairs,” ordered Derek. Bill
mocked him. “I heard that!”
They started going up the stairs, careful that they didn’t
break the stairs with each step. There were patches of smelly
carpet, and covered up furniture all over the ground. They looked
around in the foyer, the living room, the dining room and the
kitchen but all they found were marks on the walls, ashes near
the locked door leading to the basement, and mice droppings.
They were about to go upstairs when Richard screamed.
They ran back and he was looking above the entry hall out of the
kitchen. There was a large spider hanging down from a web.
“S-S-Spider-r-r-r s-s-someone p-p-please kill it!” said
Richard as he barely managed to speak.
Bill sighed and threw a microphone at the spider. He
missed but hit the web and the spider fell off the web. It hit the
ground and crawled away into a crack in the wall.
They went up the spiral staircase, tripping several times on
raised floorboards and bits and pieces of the walls. Once they got
to the landing, the house got even colder than before.
“Am I crazy or did I just hear another creepy laugh?”
asked Bill.
“This time I heard ‘I know you’re up here. Where are
you?’ but let’s look around,” explained Derek.
They went into the first room on the left, which was a
bathroom. It was the biggest bathroom Derek had ever seen. It
had a very tall and wide mirror and a short but long sink with
crystal knobs directly under it. In the very middle of the room
was an old toilet. In the very back of the room was an enormous
claw foot tub. Richard tried to turn on the faucets of the tub but
the handle came off and the tub started groaning until brown
sludge came out. Derek gagged in disgust. Richard was about to
mention that he hoped it was mud when he heard a very loud
giggle that sounded like a seven-year-old girl and the question
that keeps on haunting them: Where are you?
“Hey guys,” said Richard. “I think I heard the creepy girl
you were talking about.”
He heard nothing at first.
“Bill…?” asked Richard again. He turned around slowly
and saw Bill’s camera and backpack, Bill was gone. Derek
77
gulped. Suddenly they heard a door down the hall slam
extremely loudly. They peered down the hallway and saw a
strange flickering light under the doorway at the end of the
hallway. Derek pulled out his knife and Richard pulled out a club
with a diameter of 6 inches and 18 inches long. They slowly
inched toward the door while they heard hysterical laughing.
Derek was about to open the doorknob when Richard yelled a
war cry and smashed down the door and jumped inside the room.
Derek muttered how that was the second broken door today as he
leapt through the hole Richard made.
They walked in and saw a very large room with pieces of
artwork: sculptures and paintings. They were amazed at all of the
pieces until they heard a whimper. They looked up and right
above them was a tied up Bill attached to the chandelier.
One word came out of his mouth.
“RUN!”
They heard a full-on evil laugh and they took off. Richard
completely ran through the door and took off down the corridor.
Derek ran a few yards behind Richard. Derek looked back but
what he saw made his hair stand up and his skin crawl. He turned
around to keep running but he ran into a still Richard. Although
Derek is 4 inches taller than Richard and about 30 pounds
heavier, he was knocked over while Richard stood his ground.
“S-s-s-sp-p-pider!” moaned Richard as he saw the spider
from downstairs.
Derek heard “Where are you?” again so he jumped up and
tried to drag the petrified Richard but he wouldn’t budge. Derek
gave up and pried the cudgel from Richard’s hand and sprinted
down the hall. As he bounded down the stairs, he heard a
scream. He wondered if either the spider or the…thing got
Richard.
Derek ran through the kitchen and hurdled over the island.
He sprinted through the foyer hearing the giggle five yards
behind them. He dove through the open door, but two clammy
hands grabbed his ankles and brought him toward the earth. His
face smacked the ground and the hands started pulling him
toward the darkness…
The last thing he heard was: “I found you!”
78
After 23 days, the local police found Richard Gesseli 5
miles south of Chesapeake, lying face down in the snow. He had
tattered and bloody clothing and wide eyes. He was last seen at
the McKee House on December 13, 2002 at 10:22 pm buying
several cups of coffee. The house was later to be found on fire
the next day. The house is said to hold the spirit of a little girl
who was abducted and held hostage in this house 57 years ago.
The basement of the house blew up and caught on fire due to
unknown causes. Gesseli is now spending the rest of his days in
federal prison for arson, vandalism, searching without a warrant,
and murder of Bill Hawthorpe and Derek Schmidt. He is often
heard muttering about a little girl and large spiders.
Clayton Moore, 7th
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’
Nashville is often held as a city of
dreams, one in which country hopefuls
come to in order to start their careers
in music. While country is not the only
kind of music we have here in America, it
is certainly one that is as much about
our beginnings as it is our present. This
year we looked at music and lyrics as
poetry. The students were introduced to
several genres of music and the way in
which their lyrics are specifically
designed. From folk to hip-hop we
discovered the unique cadences and
motives for these genres, studying 7
types in all. The children wrote their
own poems and stories in one of several
selected styles; these selections range
from the instruments used to the people
who play them. We also focused on how
people listen to music—the physical
representations of sound.
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Untitled
Kiera Robinson
8th
You walk into the bar and the rancid smell of spirits and
sweat reach your nose in an unpleasant combination, making
your head spin a little. A fiddler and a man with a banjo tune
their instruments on the old stage, if you could call it that; it is
more of a dirty cardboard box set up hastily in the back of the
tavern. With a quick strum, the pair exchange a quick nod, and
you hear the drilling interference of the microphone and the
speakers.
“Howdy there, ev'rybody! We're Woody 'n' Jeb, the rootin'
tootin' cowpokes of West Virginia,” the shaggy haired banjo man
slurrs, flashing the sparse audience a toothless grin. “I hope y'all
enjoy this here song we done wrote...”
“And of course,” the grimy fiddler chimes in, smirking
slyly. “Enjoy the beer!”
They begin their song with a folky twang and you settle
back into your chair, tapping your foot to the beat.
My Guitar
Zachary Grob-Lipkis
7th
A guitar,
much better than a sitar,
the strings look cool,
unless you're a fool
All the chords you can make,
playing a campfire song down by the lake,
to play a guitar, it takes a true winner.
Not an instrument for a beginner.
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It takes skill and determination
before you're on a stage rocking the nation.
Practice is important too,
You need that before a big debut.
Guitarists love their rock-machines,
unless they prefer playing in a more peaceful scene.
Why do people love guitars?
Once again it's because they aren't sitars.
I'm glad sitar rhymes with guitar
or else this poem would be quite bizarre.
For this is a poem about guitars
and not so much one about racecars.
The Rise and Fall of U-1
Nicholas Gronendyke
7th
U2 is one of the best bands ever. U1 however was not.
This is the story of the downfall of U1, a promising rock band.
First, let me describe our band members. Our lead singer,
Melanie, was not a girl. He was the best lead singer we ever had.
His voice was amazing with its graceful high notes and deep low
notes. He could sing in 18 different keys, in three languages
(Classical Latin, Peruvian and Moroccan). Unfortunately he
could not sing or speak English which became a bit of a problem
about half way through our album, when we ran out of ideas in
Latin, Peruvian and Moroccan lyrics. Melanie’s hair was his
most striking feature. His golden brown locks smelled like a
fresh spring meadow. Whenever he moved, his shoulder length
hair tossed in the air and wherever he went people gazed in awe
at his hair. Being named Melanie and having beautiful golden
brown locks, people thought he was a girl when the band was on
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tour. We were even once nominated for the best girl band of the
1980’s until someone caught Melanie going to the men’s room.
The Go-Go’s ended up winning instead.
After the loss to the Go-Go’s, the band broke up. Melanie
decided that he wanted to be a hair model and moved to Georgia,
a well known hot spot for hair modeling. Because of his name
and long hair, he was able to model as both a man and woman.
This career didn’t last long because his hair started falling out
due to the stress of modeling and because of the experimental
shampoo he used. He lost all of his hair. Melanie dealt with the
loss of his hair by writing “hair love songs” in Latin. This was
the low part of his career; these songs didn’t sell well. After the
end of his modeling career he discovered that his smooth bald
head was perfect for wig modeling. His best selling wig is the
“Donald Trump” because a mysterious, unknown, wealthy buyer
purchases them all.
Another member of U1 was our drummer, Landscape.
After the band broke up, Landso, as we called him, became a
landscaper. His specialty was “rhythmic demolition” where he
would use a jack hammer to create music while destroying ugly
old patios and large boulders. Landscape was the best drummer
we could have hoped for. He loved drumming so much that he
did it for free. Unfortunately, he carried this practice over to his
landscaping job which didn’t work out well. His customers were
happy and he had lots of work but, because he never got paid, he
ended up living in a cardboard box “mansion.” Landso was an
insomniac and preferred to do his demolition at night which the
cops and the neighbors did not appreciate.
The third member of U1 was Scotty Macintosh, our
bagpipe player. He was very skilled with the bag pipes, but
usually ended up in the back of the bus because well, everyone
hates the bagpipes. I don’t even know why we had a bagpipe
player in our band. I guess it might have been because Scotty
was so entertaining and we loved his kilt. This too contributed to
our image as a girl band. Scotty danced a mighty good jig and
was popular with the Scottish fans. As everyone knows, it’s
important to remain on the good side of the Scottish people. I
mean, have you seen Braveheart? We were not about to kick out
Scotty.
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Our keyboard player was constantly changing so there’s
not much point in talking about him, or them rather. We had a
total of nine keyboardists in a six month period. Every time they
played a certain chord on our piano, they had a seizure and
ended up in the hospital. I guess maybe we should have had our
piano checked out.
Now, for the best member of U1…. me! I was the bass
guitar player for the band. I believe that I was the best member
of U1 due to my dashing good looks and my sparkling sense of
humor. I can play eighteen different notes simultaneously on the
guitar. Some people thought that the sound of this was horrific,
but I thought it was beautiful. I might be tone deaf but I am not
dumb. I sold the name U1 to a guy named Bono who changed it
to U2. Who could have predicted that such a silly name would
become an amazing band. I guess we should’ve kept the name
after all.
The Accordion Games
Benjamin Ma
7th
When accordion players angrily delegated children to take
part in the Accordion Games, they were trying to ensure that the
common people never rebelled against the upper class of
accordion players again. There had been a previous rebellion,
and the “Accordionos,” as they were called, needed a way to
keep the people in check and prevent the possibility of an
overturning of the Accordion Empire. Every year, every
“Section” numbered 1-12, each representing an area of land, its
inhabitants, and its unique industry, would send two
“Propitiations” at random—one “Accordionus,” a male, and one
“Accordiona,” a female. The 24 Propitiations would play
accordions for judges in the Accordion Arena and the singular
Champion chosen by the judges would win the Golden
Accordion prize and riches enough to live in comfort and
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accordiondom for life. The rest of the players… would be put to
death.
Some readers may have noticed the similarities between a
certain book called “The Hunger Games” and this story. Any
resemblance between the characters portrayed in this story and
any Hunger Games persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.
Our story begins in Section 12. This district was not the
most well off of the twelve, for sure. In the Accordion Empire,
eleven of the twelve sections focused on the production of
accordions. For example, Section 2 harvested the ivory for the
accordion keys. Section 11 produced the plastic for the cheaper
accordion bodies, while Section 3 produced more expensive but
nicer aluminum and other lightweight metal frames. Section 1,
considered the nicest of the regions, handled the manufacturing
and shipping to the Accordion Empire’s capitalAccordionopolis.
Of course, people cannot live off of accordions, despite
what the Accordionopolis promotional advertisements said.
That’s where Section 12 came in. Section 12 handled all the
different aspects of necessities that the other sections needed—
food, water, metals for the accordion factories, and more. You
would think that controlling all of the essential provisions would
make this region extremely wealthy and powerful. But the
Accordionos constantly sent in military enforcements to “ensure
the district flourished in peace and harmony,” but really the
“Guardians of Accord” just caused more strife than they solved.
All in all, Section 12 was one of the poorest.
There was a 16 year old girl in Section 12 named
Sevdalinka. Her mother had told her that Sevdalinka was the
name of an old music type which featured accordions. But
Sevdalinka could not confirm if her memories were correct,
because her parents had both been called to Accordionopolis
when Sevdalinka was only three years old. They never did come
back.
Sevdalinka grew up in the Section 12 Center for Parentless
Child Upbringing, which oddly enough was probably one of the
most inhospitable places for children in the whole area. Almost
all the residents of Section 12 were nice to each other, driven by
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a common enemy—the Guardians of Accord, and indirectly the
Accordianos. Any of them would have gladly adopted a child
out of the orphanage—if adoption was allowed. Of course, the
Twelvers thought the government did it out of spite, but really
the government was concerned for its own safety. The first
rebellion had been started by an orphan brought up by foster
guardians, and trying to avoid the deaths of parents was more
troublesome than just forbidding the raising of orphans except in
government-certified Centers for Parentless Child Upbringing.
Sevdalinka had a very… depressing air about her at all
times. This was probably due to her continued miserable
existence in the Center for Parentless Child Upbringing. Her
favorite color was black. Her favorite music was made by
scraping her fingernails across a chalkboard. Her favorite food
was wheat gruel made dark brown due to its heavily laden dirt
composition (this might have been because that was the only
food the children in the orphanage ever got).
In other words, she was the very stereotype of what not to
be if you wanted to please the high-standard Accordion Judges
of Accordionopolis. Especially because her age was at the high
limit of the Propitiations and the judges rated Propitiations
harsher if they were older. So when her name showed up on the
big screen at the Propitiation Ceremony and the Accordionopolis
representative ostentatiously announced, “Congratulations to our
Section 12 Accordiona, Sevdalinka Frosini!” Her applause was
not at all thunderous, to say the least.
After the announcement, there was a brief period for the
chosen Propitiations to say their farewells to any friends and
family. But Sevdalinka spent this time to sulk, for nobody came
to tell her goodbye. After this time, Sevdalinka and another
slightly less somber child were loaded into a very shabby train
and departed for Accordionopolis.
The other resident of Sevdalinka’s car was a slightly small
and a very young boy who clearly had never been told the losers
of the Games were executed. He was bubbling with enthusiasm.
“Hey, aren’t you excited! I know I am. This is so cool! I
have never been on a train before,” he exclaimed.
“Mmph,” Sevdalinka replied without looking up.
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“Man this is going to be so cool! I finally get to put my
accordion skills to the test!” the boy pronounced effervescently.
“Mmph,” Sevdalinka returned with about as much interest
as a spoiled cat has to the wrong cat food brand.
Eight hours and several Sections later, the Propitiations
arrived in Accordionopolis. Most of the children burst out of the
doors eager to see as much of the beautiful cityscape as they
could before the fateful duel of musicianship. But when the
station conductor told her to kindly exit the car, she replied
with—you guessed it—“Mmph.”
The Propitiations spent the first two days traveling around
the various accordion museums as one big group. They got to
see the history of accordions, the manufacturing process, and
even interactively sing and dance the traditional folk accordion
songs! Mainly, however, the purpose of these expeditions was to
remind the general public about the power of the Accordion
Empire and tell the people that the Empire could always reach
them no matter where they were. Each and every Propitiation
was filmed in almost all their activities in Accordionopolis and
the trips to the museums were no exception, so everything the
children learned was absorbed by everyone in the Sections too.
On the third day in Accordionopolis the Propitiations
received one day to practice their accordion skills. They did not
have to memorize anything, for in the Accordion Arena it was
strictly enforced that all songs be made up on the spot. Any
passage identified by an automated system to match with any of
the thousands of songs in the database would cause its player to
be immediately disqualified. So in truth the Propitiations had to
learn many songs in order to avoid playing those songs by
accident.
Finally it was Judgment Day. All the Propitiations dressed
in their finest and entered the Accordion Arena where a huge
crowd and three flamboyant judges sat waiting. The
Propitiations sat on chairs in a large circle facing inward.
Following a long and rousing speech by the head of the
Accordion Empire, Cherished Leader Accordionan, the
Propitiations were selected in order to play a 5 minute
improvised tune. Each Section would be judged in sequence
from 12 to 1 with the Accordiona playing first, then the
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Accordionus. By this arrangement, Sevdalinka had to perform
first.
Remember back to when I, the author, stated that
Sevdalinka’s favorite music was scraping fingernails across a
chalkboard? Well, I might have been overdramatizing it a bit,
but her accordion act reflected her complete lack of practice and
less than harmonic preferences. Many of the spectators in
Accordion Arena came out of the stadium a changed person.
Some had epiphanies which changed them for the better, but
most were stunned by the knowledge a musical instrument, nay,
ANYTHING, could produce a sound that disturbing and
repulsive. Of course the side effects of hearing the outburst were
multiplied tenfold for the other Propitiations for some of whom
the noise came from right next to them, while others were spared
the torture of exposure from one yard away but still caught the
sound waves almost as fully as the less fortunate Propitiations.
It was said later that week that the spectators’ mild
unconsciousness rate was 84%, while 6% suffered a longer but
not fatal comatose period. 100% of the Propitiations other than
Sevdalinka were knocked out at the outset and 67% of the
Propitiations were out cold for over 2 days.
There is true irony in the fact that Sevdalinka won the
Accordion Games because her ineptitude to produce anything
remotely pleasing to the ear disqualified all of the other
Propitiations due to their inability to play accordions while
unconscious. And yet, it is the outstanding people who are
remembered by history. The deeds of the especially remarkable
are passed generation to generation despite the rise and fall of
civilizations. Despite the atrocities of the Accordion Empire
ending a mere 6 years after Sevdalinka’s victory, she will never
be forgotten. No other Propitiation has ever caused a 70%
onlooker post-Games depression rate since.
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Lincoln Park Zoo
Chicago, IL
In the 4th grade, our curriculum focuses largely on animal
oriented stories. By age 9, our students show a great fondness
for living creatures and so can relate deeply to the
anthropomorphized ones in the books they read throughout the
year. From Dr. Dolittle to Bambi, the students become aware of
their own abilities to empathize with other living creatures. In
this section, the students were asked to write stories about
animals in a zoo. Chicago, Illinois is famous for food, wind and a
never winning baseball team. They also have a very distinguished
zoo located in Lincoln Park. The stories and pictures that follow
represent the animals in the zoo as well as the imaginations of
the students in the fourth grade.
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Animals of Africa
Isabelle Anderson
4th
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Chubby Checkers
Juliet Kuhlman
4th
There is a chubby cheetah named Checkers. He lived in
the Chicago zoo in the biggest exhibit of the zoo. He ate and
slept up in the highest and biggest branch of the largest tree in
the entire zoo. He was the chubbiest cheetah in the world, so he
was not fast.
One day, after he woke up from a nap, he saw that his
favorite cookie toy was gone. He ran around as fast as he could
and looked for his lost cookie toy everywhere in the tree. He
heard someone laughing and turned around quickly. He saw an
old enemy of his, Jobo, a small boy cheetah, who loved to prank
and steal things from Checkers, standing on a thin branch. Jobo
ran down the tree, but Checkers ran after him. Jobo reached the
bottom of the tree and saw that Checkers was getting closer.
Jobo took a sharp turn and quickly climbed up a tree that looked
very similar to the tree where he took Checkers’ toy. Checkers
was still running but he stopped because he was exhausted. He
slowly climbed up the tree, but when he got to the top, Jobo was
completely out of sight. Checkers looked and looked, but he
couldn’t find Jobo or his cookie toy. He climbed down the tree
and moped back to his tree. He lay down and wished that he was
cuddling with his cookie toy.
He got up the next day and remembered everything that
happened the day before. Now, he was furious and dashed to the
same tree where he last saw Jobo. He saw a wiggling tail coming
out of a clump of leaves on a low branch. He slowly and quietly
climbed up the tree. He jumped at the tail, but before he could
get his claws on it, Jobo darted out of the clump of leaves and
jumped off the tree and onto the ground. Checkers did the same.
Jobo giggled an evil giggle and ran to the tree where Checkers
slept. Checkers was at the bottom of the tree and he was about to
climb up. Jobo left a letter attached to the cookie toy and ran out
of sight. Checkers finally got to the top of the tree and read the
note.
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Dear Checkers,
That was an awesome chase. I loved it
because you made that the best chase I’ve ever
done. I returned your toy. Stay fat!”
-Jobo
Checkers was very happy and turned his head to see if he
could still see Jobo. He could! Jobo was standing on another
thin branch and gave Checkers a friendly wink. Checkers
watched Jobo climb down the tree and scurry away. Checkers
felt like he had his first best friend. Checkers woke up the next
morning and ran to Jobo’s tree. He saw Jobo and walked up to
him. Jobo turned around and saw Checkers smiling at him.
They hugged and Checkers gave Jobo a mischievous smile and
pulled out Jobo’s stuffed animal that looked like a hotdog and
ran away. Jobo ran after him and the two of them instantly
became best friends.
Mr. Buh Nanas
Ethan Fein
4th
One day a rich family went on a safari tour. The family
included a mother, a father, and their son. Their son’s name was
Todd. The family lived in Chicago. Halfway through the tour,
Todd saw a monkey.
“Monkey, monkey!” Todd screamed. “Mommy, I want a
monkey,” Todd demanded.
“No, honey bunches,’’ his mother said calmly.
“Ok, Mom, but someday I will get one and I will defy you
and your ridiculous rules!” he seethed.
“That’s no way to talk to your mother, Todd. Apologize,”
his father said strongly.
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“Sorry, Mom,” Todd said weakly and with
embarrassment.
“Well, that’s the end of your tour. Come again,” said the
tour guide. The guide had heard the entire conversation and
decided to send the boy a monkey.
*
*
*
The next week at Todd’s house, a large package arrived
addressed to Todd. His mother brought it in and opened it and
screamed. Todd and his father ran into the room and saw the
monkey. Todd was excited, but his parents were horrified.
“For one day we can keep that thing, and if it is not well
behaved we will give it to the zoo,” said his father.
“Let’s name it Mr. Buh Nanas,” said Todd excitedly.
The next day the family saw a wrecked living room with
banana peels strewn across the floor, pillows torn with feathers
coming out, and the monkey watching National Geographic on
their flat screen.
“That’s it!” Todd’s mother screamed.
In the next five minutes they were at the Chicago Zoo. A
man with a zoo uniform came around the corner with a broom
and saw the monkey. He screamed and tried to climb a tree. He
kept slipping.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Todd.
“I’m afraid of monkeys,” said the man.
“Why do you work at zoo then?” asked Todd, giving the
man a strange glare.
“We’re here to turn in this monkey. It was sent to us as a
present, but we just can’t keep it,” said Todd’s father.
“Wait here. I will fetch someone who can see that
creature.”
The family was directed to wait about in the gift shop.
Todd asked his mother to buy him things, to which she replied
repeatedly “NO.” About an hour later another employee came
and accepted the monkey and put it in a large pen with about six
other monkeys. He told the family their monkey would be well
taken care of.
Mr. Buh Nanas looked around the new cage. He saw all
the other monkeys had their backs to him and he wondered why.
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Suddenly, they all turned and threw mashed banana straight at
him.
“Stop!” the monkey said to the others. The rain of mashed
starchy fruit ceased.
“What’s your name, Bub?” asked a gruff monkey who
appeared to be the leader.
“Mr. Buh Nanas,” stuttered the monkey. “I’m new here,”
he said.
“That’s obvious. My name is Johnny,” the gruff monkey
said. “Let me show you around. This is where we sleep, that’s
where we eat, that’s where we play,” he said, gesturing to a large
oak tree. “We made a tree house up there,” he continued.
The tree house was comfortable and cozy. There were
even more monkeys up there making banana pie, banana stew,
and banana milk. That night Mr. Buh Nanas slept well, but he
wanted to be free. He decided to escape from the zoo.
At about twelve o’clock he crept out and saw a man run to
the front desk at the check in counter. Mr. Buh Nanas moved
sideways to get a better look. The man took money out of the
cash register and looked around. The monkey started screeching
and the man pulled out a gleaming knife. The man realized that
Mr. Buh Nanas would alert someone and rushed toward him and
stabbed at Mr. Buh Nanas. Mr. Buh Nanas stepped aside and
continued screeching. Eventually the knife stabs created a gaping
hole in the netting around the pen and a siren could be heard.
The police had come to investigate. The man ran away.
“Perfect,” thought Mr. Buh Nanas.
Once the man had left, the monkey crawled out. He was
free at last! He scurried under the fence and ran to a nearby park.
He saw a hollow tree and crawled inside to stay warm. In no
time he had fallen asleep. In the morning a squirrel saw the
monkey and sighed. Then Mr. Buh Nanas woke up. The first
thing he saw was the squirrel.
“Hello,” said Mr. Buh Nanas.
The squirrel returned the greeting. “Would you like some
tea?” offered the squirrel. “By the way, my name is Chippy, but
friends call me Nuts. That’s because I drive everyone nuts. So
would you like some tea?”
“Yes, please,” answered Mr. Buh Nanas.
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As the squirrel constantly talked while he busied himself
with the tea the monkey cringed because the squirrel was right:
he did drive him nuts. Later that day Mr. Buh Nanas left the
squirrel’s hospitality. He searched and searched until he found a
place to stay. He found a large oak tree with many branches. He
built his home there and lived there until he died.
Charlie Trippel
4th
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Story of a Hippo
Rushyl Kapila
4th
The Hippo lives with what is called a pod
The poor bloke is so heavy, he broke a log.
He is always hidden in the fog,
And is often found chatting with an orange frog.
The zoo keepers all call him Paul,
Though his name, he does not often recall.
He tries to jump over the zoo wall,
But his progress is not good at all.
This Hippo, Paul, likes to swim all day,
And is so lazy, he will not play.
He attracts many fleas they say,
Perhaps he will one day dance in a ballet.
Maybe Swan Lake, or the Nutcracker,
But it is unlikely, because he is a slacker.
Alas, he will just sit under the big black fir
Pondering what will be for dinner.
The (Ant)Arctic Circle
The Truth About Polar Bears
Marcus Ma
4th
Polar bears live on the ice
They are not always nice.
All of them have one wish,
It is to have one thousand fish.
(Most prefer them on a dish)
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They like to destroy Eskimos’ igloos
After which, they dive in the deep blue.
Their snow white shoes are never new
Polar bears think the answer to life is forty-two
They also love to play with super glue.
Also, they adore Edgar Allen Poe
(don’t ask me why, I don’t know)
They say Santa Claus lives there (Ho, ho, ho!)
And they don’t like cups o’ Joe
Even though they are in the snow
Yay! This is the last verse!
Writing this poem was such a curse
These rhymes were becoming adverse
And this poem was taking a turn for the worse
And the entire universe
Pain and Guin
Bradley Peterson
4th
In all, there are seventeen different species of penguins.
Seventeen! My favorite penguin is the emperor penguin.
Penguins mostly eat fish and they are afraid of leopard seals,
birds and gulls. But enough about their eating habits. I want to
tell you a story about an emperor penguin and his son.
The father’s name is Pain – Pain is his name because if any
one messes with his baby they will be in a painful situation. The
baby is called Guin because if you put their names together it’s
PainGuin. The emperor penguin lives only in Antarctica. This is
story about Pain and Guin on a boat in Antarctica.
Guin was playing onshore while his father was swimming
looking for fish. They were on a father/son ‘camping’ trip.
When a fisherman’s boat came up to the bank, Guin was
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fascinated, he had never seen a ship up close before. Before he
knew it, the ship had captured Guin.
Pain was just coming back up from his dive when he saw
his son being dragged onto a boat. He didn’t know what else to
do but jump on board. Sadly, he was too far away and couldn’t
reach the deck, so he did the next best thing, he jumped in the
water and swam after the boat.
After following the boat for two days, managing a
thoroughly tough swim, Pain finally caught up with the boat and
jumped right on the boat’s deck. The fishermen were astonished
at the capability of such a small creature and began to chase Pain
around the deck. The fishermen finally captured Pain and put
him into a huge cage and put the cage with the other animals
below the deck.
For the next couple hours, Pain was thinking of ways to
get out of his cage to find Guin. He couldn’t see him in any of
the cages; it was too dark below deck. During those days they
were fed gruel and were treated badly. Finally, he had devised a
plan.
The next morning during feeding time, Pain made a puppy
dog face to the fisherman while being fed. The fisherman looked
at Pain and decided to pet him but, this was a big mistake. Pain
bit his hand and jumped on his arm and was able to escape and
hide until the fisherman finally gave up looking for him and left
the room.
Pain was able to find Guin, but he had to figure out how to
get Guin out of his cage. Pain was able to use his beak and stick
it into the keyhole and move his beak around to unlock the lock
so Guin could get out of the cage. They went to the top deck and
jumped into the ocean, but there was one problem – there was a
leopard seal right behind them. The leopard seal was fast and
chased them. Finally, they ran into some ice caves and the
leopard seal left; Pain and Guin rested safely there for the night.
When they woke up they were going to go back to
Antarctica, where Guin’s mom was waiting for them. When they
woke up there were no leopard seals outside their cave door.
There were however killer whales. They tried three times to go
back to their home and dodge the killer whales. On the fourth
try they finally made it back home.
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When the mother came back from playing with her friends,
Pain and Guin were sitting in the kitchen eating fish and
laughing.
“So boys, how was the trip? What did you do?” she asked
kindly.
“Oh, nothing much,” said Pain, “It’s good to have the
whole family back together again though.”
Animals of the
American West
On the Mountain
Story and Illustration - Rachel Reen
4th
Have you ever noticed the Rocky Mountains have so many
steep slopes and rocky rocks? Maybe that is why they called it
the Rocky Mountains. I have been traveling for 2 months now.
I’ve never hiked so long before. Really I have never hiked in my
life.
Even though I was very ready to fall, I walked and walked
and walked… and soon before I knew it I was lying on the
ground, stomach down and all my legs sticking out in different
directions. I was exhausted! I lay there, wondering if I would
ever get up again. But as usual I was wrong. I slowly got on my
feet. Of course, I knew what I had to do. I had to find where I
once lived.
I am only 2 years old. I was born somewhere far away.
Sometimes it seemed like I have been getting farther and farther
away from where I grew up. You might wonder why a mountain
goat hates hiking. Well it’s a long story, but first, here is a
picture of me:
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One day after I was born high up in a mountain
somewhere, my mother was dying to teach me how to hike. She
wished I would be the fastest mountain goat. That wish did not
turn out so well when she took me down the mountain, chatting,
not aware of the eyes staring at our backs following us. I was not
aware either.
“Oh, you will love to run around in the mountains! I just
know it! Oh here you just do this,” she said showing me a proper
jump, “and then you’ll have it all under control.” She nodded me
towards the cliff that we were going down.
She pointed to a cliff, just a few feet away. It was steep.
And I had to go down it. I walked to the edge of the cliff looking
down. I looked at the beautiful view. Above me the sky was a
brilliant sky blue due to the nice weather, with puffy clouds
dotting the sky. Then I saw off in the distance, a green forest of
leafy trees. As much as I loved the view, my attention went back
to the steep slope.
“A wonderful view, isn’t it?” she said when she saw me
gazing.
“Uh, yeah. It is.” I said.
“So, now to the slope,” she said.
“That is not a beginner level!” I gulped.
“Just hurry up, it won’t be so bad! We will take it slow,
ok?” she said trying to calm me down.
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We started down the cliff, going very slow. Well, we never
made it down the cliff. The follower was not so patient after all.
He growled to get our attention. We turned around but it was too
late. The red fox charged and was well aware of the cliff. He
turned at the last second chasing my mom around a big rock.
They were out of sight and I knew my mom had a better
advantage on the cliff. Though I couldn’t be sure if she could
outrun the fox once she got on flat ground. I couldn’t die now.
Not now, I thought to myself. I ran and ran away. I was
desperately afraid of hiking after that. I did not get the lesson I
needed on cliffs. I was hopeless. I tripped a few times on the
way. So that’s where I am now.
Obviously, with my rotten luck, I walked into a dead end.
What a coincidence. It was a steep slope. I tried my best. I made
to the bottom easily. It was not so bad after all. But what was bad
was that I was somewhere I’d never seen before. The trees
towered over me as I stared up at them in awe. It was beautiful.
The light from the sun filtered through the thick tree tops that
were…literally everywhere.
This was a forest, I assumed. I didn’t know how big they
were nor… what was inside them. There could be anything;
dangerous or peaceful. I did not know what to expect.
I wandered and later that week I determined how big a forest is:
Forests are HUGE.
I lost track of how far I traveled after that. I was fully
energized after my good night’s rest.
I froze. I saw two yellow eyes shining in the dark. I
turned to make a run but stopped. I wanted to see what it was.
Maybe it could give me a good idea of where I was. But it didn’t.
The biggest bear in the world emerged from the shadows. I ran.
Faster than I have ever run before. I ran and ran. I never stopped.
I stopped when I saw lights. They were city lights. It looked safe
there. But I did not think I would have the freedom when I got
back. If I ever got back.
But I turned around anyways. The bear was running
chasing me again. It was the only place to go. I ran down the hill.
Because I was a goat, of course I was faster than the bear at this
part.
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I ran down the hill into the city. I had to stop. There were
buildings and skyscrapers. I saw the shops with antiques and the
I saw the TV store. This was not where I belonged. Not at all.
I saw a lady say, “A goat… a goat? A GOAT!” she
grabbed something out of the back pocket of her jeans. She
dialed a number and started talking.
“Animal control! Oh there is a goat on the road. I think it
came from the mountains just like the mamma goat did a year
ago. Remember?”
I heard a low voice talk through the phone. A sign of relief
filled her face for a second. Then it vanished.
“No, it isn’t hurting anyone. It is just confused!” she
protested.
Animal control said something I couldn’t make out.
“Oh…… no! You don’t have to kill it! Just take it to the
zoo like you did with the other one,” she said closing the phone.
She walked over to me. She put her hand out to pet me. I
let her. I did not care if she hurt me right now. I was hopeless
anyways.
Just then a big truck just came racing down the street. A
chubby guy got out and talked to the lady. Another came out of
the passenger seat to get me into the back of the truck.
I don’t know what happened next. I think I might have
fallen asleep. A dream was just what I needed.
I saw myself standing on the cliff watching the fox chase
my mother. I was actually frozen that time. I watched as I saw
my mom far out in the distance come into view again. She went
on a steep part where the fox could not go. It was too steep.
Suddenly, she slipped.
My eyes snapped open. I saw a big sign over my head that
said ZOO,THIS WAY. I wondered how but the zoo people had
put me behind glass. I slowly got to my feet to observe my
surroundings. I saw a goat on the top of a rock in my glass area.
“There, why don’t you and the other goat become friends.”
The zoo keeper closed the glass door and locked it.
“Ok,” I mumbled but it was too late for him to hear.
I climbed up the rock to meet the other goat. I froze. This
mamma goat looked too familiar and too much like someone I
knew. Then it hit me. It all made sense now. A year ago, my
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mom got chased off by the fox. She took the same path I took.
She went to the zoo. My mom seemed just as surprised.
“Is that my little goat?” she asked. Then a big grin
appeared on her face. I couldn’t help smiling back.
“Mom,” I said.
“I never knew it could really end this way. I thought I
would never see you again,” she said smiling again.
“I felt the same way. I thought the fox ate you,” I teased.
“No one can out talent my cliff running!” she said
laughing.
“Oh really?” I challenged.
“Yes.” She answered
“Fine, I guess you are right. No one can beat you,” I
agreed.
Kiera Robinson
8th
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Nate Shaw
4th
Wolfie and Alex
Francesco Savian
4th
Through the rustle of the leaves and the gun firing, I could
hear my mother screaming and my brothers howling with pain.
After what seemed a year, everything was quiet.
“Mom? Dad? Guys?” I asked with a tone of fear. “Where
are you?” I was so worried, I knew that my parents were dead; so
that meant I was an orphan. Me, Wolfie, a grey wolf, was an
orphan.
I spied the dead elk, caught two days ago, and I looked at
it as if it were some kind of red and brown poison. I nudged it,
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half expecting it to come back to life, guiding me through life; I
was only eleven months old.
I went to the howling point and decided to howl over my
dead family.
I heard another rustle, and my first thought was my
parents; but turned out it was a young human boy; I didn’t
realize how loud I was.
I sniffed the air, and smelled a familiar scent. “The
hunter’s son” I decided despairingly.
I was so terrified, I started whimpering. The boy heard and
saw me. My heart sank into my paws, but to my surprise the boy
smiled.
At that moment, a stampede came crashing toward me.
The boy jumped on top of me, and he pulled me away from the
elks’ stomping feet and from that point on, we were the best of
friends; you can’t refuse to be someone’s friend when he just
saved your life.
After that day, the boy and I spent our time in the woods
playing hide and seek and looking for berries to eat. He told me
stories his father and mother use to tell him at nighttime.
One story was about the Wolf Spirit that used to roam the
forest, hunting for prey and scaring away the hunters. One time,
this Wolf Spirit saved a herd of wolves from a group of fur
trappers. He guided the wolves into a hedge of thorny bushes
that ruined their furs. The trappers were disappointed with the
quality of the fur and gave up the hunt.
I loved these stories, especially the ones where the wolf
was the hero. I did not know that wolves could be so brave and
cunning.
After months of playing together, I asked the boy for his
name.
“Oh!” he had said, “My name’s Alex.”
“I can’t believe I never asked before.”
Alex told me in a very sad tone that his father got a new
job at the Chicago zoo, as a zookeeper. I did not know where
Chicago was but I knew that I would be losing my friend.
My birthday was in two days and it would have been a
horrible one.
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Two days passed and Alex came out to meet me with a big
box that had steel bars at one end. “Jump in,” he said as he
opened it. “As your birthday present I made you a cage, so you
can travel with us to Chicago zoo. The zoo manager agreed to
dedicate an exhibit to the grey Wolf. In this way, you will still
stay with me and teach me the grey Wolf‘s ways and I will guide
the visitors throughout the grey wolf’s life and habitat at the
exhibit.”
One month later, I was settled in my new home and used
to the people that came to see me. They were amazed to hear the
way I survived as an orphan in the wilderness. They always
asked a lot of questions, especially the kids who wanted to pet
me. They never banged on the glass, but watched me sleep and
eat.
Alex was doing a good job as my caretaker, and every
Tuesday and Thursday five lucky kids joined him inside my
exhibit to feed me meat and brush my fur.
As I got older, my friendship with Alex grew stronger and
I was the happiest animal at the Chicago zoo.
Mikayla James
4th
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Alex the Mountain Lion
Kahveh Zahiroleslam
4th
Once upon a time there was a mountain lion named Alex.
He lived alone in the forests of North and Central America.
Although the terrain was beautiful and serene with many trees,
he often had trouble finding food he needed to survive.
One day he woke up in a big cage with other lions. He
asked them where he was and how he got there. They told him
that he was looking for prey when suddenly he was trapped in a
net set up by humans. The hunters had given him something to
eat so he would fall asleep. Then they loaded him on their truck
and drove him all the way to Chicago, Illinois. Finally, they
slowly put him in a cage with other lions. After he heard the
story, he asked them what the cage was called. They told him it
was a zoo.
The zoo was very different from the forest. There were
walls, fences and limits on all sides. And there were people
always watching. At first Alex looked sorrowfully at the other
animals; however, after a week he was used to his daily routine.
He would wake up, get cologne sprayed on him by the specialist,
splash in the water, eat and then he would get looked at by the
people of Chicago. Finally he would go to bed. In the two years
he was there, his only happiness was meeting a fellow lion
named Martha, whom he fell in love with.
Once he had made enough friends amongst the animals at
the zoo, Alex organized a plan to get out. He felt crammed and
very small in a small cage with other lions. He felt like he had
no freedom. He felt his life in the zoo was hard and depressing.
He thought he was in the smallest room of the smallest
apartment. He felt if he couldn't get out he was going to die and
rot in the prison-like cage.
The plan was that when the specialist came, two lions
would hide and ambush him. The lions were also counting on
the keeper forgetting to lock the door when the food was brought
in. That is when they were planning to run out the door, locking
the keeper and specialist in. After that they would stealthily run
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down the corridors, scaring any witnesses by biting them. In the
morning, they would hide in a truck that was going to get more
animals from the forests. On the day that they left, luckily the
zoo guards forgot to guard the truck, so the plan ran perfectly.
They didn't have any witnesses either.
Once back in the wild, Alex saw his mate give birth to two
young and brave mountain lions. One named Jo-Jo, and the
other Chris. Many years later when his sons were fully grown
mountain lions, the hunters came this time looking for
rattlesnakes. The lions asked the snakes to fight side by side
against the hunters. They beat the hunters successfully. After
that, Martha had yet another cub named Bob, and when he was
older, Alex decided to tell everyone the adventures of his old
life. When the story was told, they marveled at every second of
it. After Alex died of old age, his sons told their sons and their
grandsons and so on and so on and the story of their brave
escape from the zoo was kept alive this way.
Asian Beasts
Clarys Paragas
4th
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Marcus Ma
4th
The Rare Peacock
Story and Illustration - Lauren Yeh
4th
Once upon a time, in Asia, there was a rare peacock. She
was not blue or green, she was red, black, and white. People
thought she was ugly but she was the most beautiful bird they
had ever seen. This bird did not come out in the daylight. When
the clock struck midnight, she made her nightly journey to find
food and to see with her glowing eyes.
One night, a clever trapper found and captured her. He
wasn’t a mean man, but he felt she was so beautiful he had to
share that beauty with his son. He put the peacock in a cage and
the cage inside a cardboard box, with a sign saying
“FRAGILE.” The box was sent to New York where a trapper’s
son lived.
In New York, Ray, the clever trapper’s son, got the box
from his dad. He opened the box and a peacock sprang out. She
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was a beautiful bird; she spread her fan and flapped her red and
white feathers.
She blew a ball off the table. She started playing with the
ball. Ray knew the peacock liked wheat so he made a path of
wheat to his garden. Ray put the ball with the bird in the garden
so she could have fun. Then, he called the zookeeper.
“I have a rare peacock and it’s driving me nuts, it’s not the
nuts you eat, but the going crazy nuts,” said Ray with a wink.
“I will be there in two weeks at 2:30 p.m. and I know what
you mean about going crazy,” said the zookeeper.
That evening, Ray’s ex-wife and children came to see Ray.
The children saw the rare peacock in the garden and asked if
they could play in the garden with her.
“Yes, you may, but be careful,” cautioned Ray.Ray let the
peacock inside after the children played with the peacock and
left. She knocked a glass vase off the table. While Ray was
cleaning up the broken vase, he found a note saying:
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Dear Son,
Sorry I missed a lot of your birthdays. I hope you
like your present. One thing, I cannot come back because I
am very ill.
Dad
Ray was worried that his father would die without being
able to say goodbye. He thought about the present his father had
sent and how rare this special peacock was. He would not let it
go. He would care for this animal with all his might. He stared
out the window at the bird, watching her play in his rooftop
garden. He sat down at his desk to write a note to his father.
Dear Dad,
Please, please do not die. I could not be happy if you were
dead. Get better soon.
Love,
Your Son
After a week had passed, Ray recived another note. Ray
was afraid to read the note, not wanting to see bad news inside.
Dear Son,
You have many other chances in your life to be happy
without me. I will die in a few short days. But please
cherish the special peacock I have given you, and know that
I am still with you.
Dad
When Ray read it, he was sad but he kept hope in his heart.
That day, the zookeeper came to pick up the peacock.
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“I will be lonely without her; I would like to keep her,”
said Ray.
“That would be a bad decision because she is going to lay
her eggs soon which means you will have to take care of the
baby peacocks,” said the zookeeper. Ray was worried about
having to take care of the birds himself, but something about the
zookeeper didn’t feel right. And after getting that letter from his
father, he just couldn’t let them go.
After the zookeeper left, Ray tried to keep the peacock
safe. While taking care of the peacock, he became enamored
with her and named her.
“ Let’s see what I should name her? Crystal? No….
Melody? No…. Sally? No…. Christina, because it was my
mother’s name, but sadly she died,” said Ray.
The following day, the peacock started laying eggs. She
laid a dozen eggs. Ray’s children, his ex-wife, and Ray waited.
In a month, all the little eggs started to hatch- except one. Ray
waited but it did not hatch. That day, the zookeeper broke into
Ray’s house because he wanted the rare peacocks to be in the
zoo. When Ray came back, he saw the zookeeper locking the
peacocks in cages.
“This egg did not hatch, you killed one of them,” said the
zookeeper.
Ray was silent because he felt responsible. Then he said,
”You can take them.” He did not want to let his father down.
After the zookeeper left, Ray felt sad. After many days of
thinking, he figured that the peacocks were part of his family. He
called his family so that they could rescue the peacocks. They
went to the zoo and found the zookeeper
“Where are they?” asked Ray.
“They are on a plane to Africa,” lied the zookeeper.
“Liar, they’re here,” shouted Ray. Ray knew it was a lie
because the peacocks were really from Asia.
The zookeeper quickly called the security guards to get
Ray and his family. However Ray, his family, and the baby
peacocks all escaped, but the mother peacock, Christina, was
trapped. She spread her wings and started flying to Ray and her
babies. Everybody was happy except the zookeeper. They all
went back home safely and Ray’s ex-wife remarried him.
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Cheyenne Garza
4th
Daisy the Tiger
Alexei Galanga
4th
Once there was a tiger named Daisy who lived in a zoo.
She liked to get attention, run around, liked to explore, and
swim. Inside her cage there were different types of toys like her
chewy toy, her bouncy ball, and her favorite toy rope. Outside
her cage she had a small pond, this was her favorite place, she
liked to swim and bathe under the sun.
But one night the zoo keeper forgot to lock the cage. Daisy
was so curious that she escaped; she wandered around looking at
the world around her. What are those moving things (they were
cars). She came closer, but she was too scared.
She jumped on the gate of the zoo entrance and went out.
She was so scared the she wanted to go back, but it was too dark
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and she couldn’t find the gate anymore. She found a place to
sleep under a grove of trees.
The next day, the zoo keeper wondered where Daisy went.
His boss was mad that he had left the gate open. He told him to
call Animal Control. Animal SWAT teams searched for Daisy.
But she was nowhere to be found.
While the police and animal control team were looking for
her, Daisy started to walk around the park. When Daisy was
walking she came across a little child and her mom. They were
so scared that they ran away.
Daisy wondered why they were scared of her, people
always seemed to love her at the zoo. Daisy hid behind a tree, as
much as a tiger can hide and started crying until she heard a
voice.
“You’re pretty,” the little boy said. Daisy thought that he
liked her and she purred at him. They walked together for an
hour. But the boyʼs mother called him for lunch. She followed
him home but the mother also got scared by Daisy. Daisy tried to
explain to people that she was lost and wanted to go back to the
zoo but all they did was scream and run away from her. Daisy
was so hungry that she begged and begged, but no one would
feed her. She went back to the park to sulk. Finally, the little boy
showed up at the park and fed her meat chunks from home.
The little boy introduced himself; he said his name was
Simon. Simon had brown hair, blue eyes, and light skin. They
played with each other and had a great time. When night came,
Simon promised to see her the next morning. He took her home
again and let her sleep in the backyard. The next morning Simon
fed Daisy, but Simon told Daisy that he had to take her back to
the zoo.
Daisy was so happy. Simon and his mom walked to the
zoo to return Daisy. When they reached the zoo, the zoo keeper
was sorry that he had forgotten to lock Daisyʼs cage and brought
harm to the city. The animal doctor examined Daisy to see if she
was all right. The zoo keeper put Daisy back in her cage, and
there she remains sleeping peacefully.
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The White House
Washington, D. C.
Everyone knows the saying “Behind a great man, is an even
greater woman.” No truer is this statement than in the lives of the
First Ladies, our nation’s hosts to visiting dignitaries and
humanitarian needs alike. Their dedication can only be matched,
but not beaten, by the men who helped create our country. They
were handed the task of nation’s host, but were often trusted
confidants and influential in the decisions made by the presidents;
the First Ladies were more than just wives, they were members of
the cabinet, voices on the House floor and caretakers of the country
at large. The students were given a choice of First Lady and were
asked to fictionalize (based on real events) a story from the lives of
these fabulous women. From the surfing Mrs. Helen Taft to the
extraordinary efforts of Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt, these women
helped build our country from the ground up and rarely are
recognized for the efforts.
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The White is House
Rena Silverman
7th
The house is white, the white is house
Ghosts creep through, quiet as a mouse.
Washington, George never lived in it,
All the other presidents inside did sit.
Wings on the west and east,
Many a night there was a big feast.
By day, the House is light and merry,
But by night, it becomes downright scary.
Allday, the President works and works,
While at night, the ghosts in corners lurk.
By day, the tourists have a ball,
At night, the ghosts do shriek and call.
They scare everyone out of their skins,
They go deep inside, within
Scaring, scaring, scaring, scaring,
Who are they scaring? They’re not caring.
Martha Washington
Darren Omori
7th
Martha Washington had been married nearly twenty years
to our future first president of the United States, George
Washington, when he was called away to the Second Continental
Congress, leaving Martha alone to manage the plantation and her
two children. As far as she was concerned, he only married her
to get lots of money and be lazy, because the real love of his life
was probably Sally Fairfax, but she was already married. Martha
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didn’t go out often; most of the time she stayed at her home at
Mount Vernon.
One day she visited her friend Elizabeth. Elizabeth was a
patriot, like George. They were talking about how George had
become the commander-in-chief of the Continental Army.
“It happened so suddenly, and he didn’t even stop to ask
me what I thought about it!” said Martha when they were sitting
in the parlor.
“Well that wasn’t very considerate of him, “Elizabeth said.
“But considering the fact that he is going off to war to fight for
independence from Great Britain, you should give him the
benefit of the doubt for now.”
“Probably, but I still think he should include me more
when making important decisions like that. Did he even think
what would happen if he left? Well, considering he doesn’t take
care of much while he’s home anyway, I guess his absence won’t
have that big of an effect on our lives. I’m the one who does all
the work.”
“I suppose so. Well, if you need anything, just come and
ask me, Lady Washington.”
“Call me Martha, please, ‘Lady Washington’ sounds too
formal. I’ll come see you soon.”
During the war she got a message from George asking her
to join him at Valley Forge, a winter encampment. She left her
Mount Vernon and made the ten-day trip to be with him at
Valley Forge, leaving the plantation, her two children, and her
slaves without her presence. Once she got there, she went
immediately to see George, and found him in the headquarters, a
big hut in the middle of the encampment.
“Oh, George, I am so glad to see you!” She ran to him.
George looked up from his mound of maps and battle
strategies, and his face broke into a smile.
“I am glad to see you too. I am tired and exhausted from
all this planning that I have to do,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” Martha said. “While I’m here I will make
myself useful and take care of you.”
Martha tended to George’s needs and kept the morale up
around the camp. One day she decided to plan a dinner party for
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George and his generals and their wives. Ten of George’s best
men and their wives were there. Among them were Friedrich
von Steuben, Nathanael Greene, and Henry Knox. George and
Martha sat at the heads of the table, and his men sat around him
in decreasing order by rank. After eating, they drank tea and
coffee while they socialized and told stories, and discussed the
progress of the war. Martha and George had just finished eating
and were drinking tea while they were talking with each other
about how the war was going with the British.
“So, George, how is the war going?”
“Well, from what I can see, it could go either way.
However, we are not in a good situation. Many of my men are
falling to disease. We have very little provisions and our shelters
aren’t very well made. My men’s feet are cut and we are
freezing from the cold.”
“I am very sorry to hear that, George. Where are the
British currently?” asked Martha.
“The British are camped nearby in Philadelphia. That is
the reason that right now we cannot dance nor play games. We
can only talk and sing. But enough of that talk. How are you
doing back at Mount Vernon?” George asked.
“Everything is going smoothly so far. Nothing much has
changed since you left. I have been working more though.
There are many things for me to take care of. But when I have
time to myself, I sew. It gives me the time and peace that I need
to think about my life.”
And so they talked and socialized and sang through the
night. Around camp, the men had built tents to live in and they
prepared for a confrontation with the British. On May 6, the
French allied themselves with America. George was very
excited because it meant the tables were turning.
The weather is getting hotter, but good news is here.
Martha, we have an even bigger chance of winning the war.
With the French on our side, the British will surrender soon!
Your loving husband,
George
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“I know. That was really lucky. But hurry and dress
yourself in nicer clothes. The feu de joie will start soon. (A feu
de joie is all the soldiers firing their guns because they are
happy).
And so they watched all the soldiers shout for joy and fire
their guns. A month later, Martha, with a joyful heart that the
war was turning in their favor, journeyed home.
***
Finally, in 1783, all the British were out of the colonies,
and the war was officially over, with the US victorious. Martha
and George could finally go back to living a normal life together.
That hope, however, was short-lived. Only a few years later,
George Washington was called to the Constitutional Convention.
He was asked to be president, and received the vast majority of
the votes. So now, George Washington had become president,
which disrupted his life with Martha considerably. They both
took the trip up to New York City, where George took his Oath
of Office and was inaugurated.
Now being the wife of essentially the most important man
in the country, she had to make her living situation look different
from what European royalty lived like, to make sure people
didn’t think she was living like a queen. She preferred being not
too fancy, but not too simple either, somewhere in the middle. If
she went anywhere, the press was always pestering her, even just
going to a friend’s house or taking the children to a store, so she
didn’t go out often. George had many other things to attend to,
and so was not always present, and life was busy for each of
them. It was up to him to set the rules and traditions for all of
the other future presidents to follow, so he set up his cabinet of
advisors to help him make important decisions.
George died when he was 67. Martha burned all their
letters to each other at a previous request of George’s. She was
grieving and had not much to live for anymore, so she was
depressed towards the end of her life. She moved to another part
of Mount Vernon, and there she lived out the rest of her days in
peace (about three years).
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Julia Gardiner Taylor
Christopher Yeh
7th
It was the night of the party. Julia Gardiner Taylor was
dancing with her friends along the third deck of the ship. It was
the happiest moment in her twenty-two years. She was going to
be married to John Taylor, but she really had to think about it.
Her father said it was for the best, but she wasn’t that sure. She
needed some time to herself to think, but the throng of political
discussion always seemed to devour her once she escaped for a
bit. She was getting tired of all the lame political jokes the old
politicians were telling her and all the mocking kowtows her
enemies (the sons and daughters of politicians that her father
liked, who were snobs) gave her.
She finally got away from the wolf pack and started
heading for her cabin when some drunken politicians who were
dancing the cancan together held her up. Then the mob
encompassed her again and she was pressed with masses of
canapés and many glasses of champagne. She was forced to
drink at least five glasses and it wasn’t long before the stars were
playing Bach to her and there were huge mushrooms dancing in
the sky. In her drunken stupor she staggered off singing three
blind mice.
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She was wandering around the ship and eventually got to
the first deck. She finally bumped into her father in the hallway
of the cabins. Her father was very concerned for her and said,
“Perhaps you should lie down and sleep off the alcohol my dear,
you look very sick and disorientated.”
“But Father, what’s, hic, wrong with, hic, nice, hic,
champagne,” she replied with a slur in her voice, giggling and
pirouetting around her father.
Her father finally caved in to her demands and let her
wander. She was skipping around the second deck when she saw
an orange flash of light and felt the ship rock. She giggled to
herself something about giant rocking chairs and grandma
coming to sit on it and kept wandering around, eventually falling
down the stairs again.
She sat up and felt her head, a warm sticky substance
leaking out of her scalp. She still didn’t quite feel like herself,
her thoughts were nothing more than tiny fragments. She kept
staggering around and eventually found her way back into the
mob. Her father was conversing with one of his friends near the
gunboat’s cannons.
Suddenly Julia felt a sense of foreboding and a sixth sense
told her something was wrong. She turned her head to the place
where she thought the eerie feeling came from and noticed the
source was the cannon that was near the mob. She then saw a
lone spark from a passing torch that flew lazily to the fuse of the
cannon that was plugged for the party. She realized that it would
fire and obliterate itself causing a massive shrapnel explosion
that would shred many of the partygoers.
She started to yell out, telling everyone to get away from
it in a slurred voice but the din of the party was too loud for
anyone to hear her. She could only watch as the fuse burned to
the end and into the gunpowder. Then, what seemed to be a huge
hand slapped her away while pelting her with red-hot splinters.
She felt her head crack against the deck and felt blood seep into
her mouth. She felt strangely dizzy and the world seemed to be
tilting around her.
The deck was burning and there seemed to be splattered
blood all around her. The shrapnel had shredded the group next
to the cannon and their blood was all over the ground. Almost
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everyone next to that shredded group had lost body parts. Most
of them were screaming and rolling around holding their injured
arms and legs. Her closest friend was lying on the ground
holding her side
Seeing the blood, Julia sobered up immediately and rushed
to her side crying out, “Camilla, don’t leave me! Stay with me
and don’t leave me alone!”
Camilla’s eyes slowly fluttered open and her breath came
in ragged gasps. She managed to choke out, “Bye… Julia. I
won’t…be seeing….you...for a…long…time”
Camilla slumped to her side and her breath started to rattle
and wheeze as she coughed up even more blood. Julia watched
helplessly as her eyes slowly glazed over and her final breath
escaped from her lips. She smiled one last time as her head
slowly hit the ground. Julia stumbled away from her friend’s
body and hit the ground right next to her father’s mangled head.
She screamed and fell backwards, unconscious before falling
straight into the grasp of John Taylor, the man she was supposed
to marry.
She woke up at the comforting warmth of his hands and
looked up into the soft eyes that soothed her worried mind, and
she knew she would finally accept him as her husband, as he was
the only part of her father she had left.
The White House
Benjamin Ma
7th
One day, when I was but a mere boy,
I met a strange man on the street in D.C.
He lived in a box but had mastered the ploy
And decided to have some fun with me.
“Go to the White House!” he said, he cried.
Though I just couldn’t tell he was laughing inside.
“There is so much to do and to see.
And for young’uns like you, you get in for free.”
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Even as a boy, I was still a fool
And fell for his prank, gullible and naïve,
I started for the White House, just to be “cool,”
Not knowing my troubles soon would find no reprieve.
I entered the White House through an unguarded side door
And remembered all I could of the White House’s lore.
I went in the Lincoln bedroom, but seeing a small mouse
I thought it was a ghost, and fled without doubt.
I saw the private theater and pool
All these luxuries nearly made me drool.
My eyes filled with envy and then I thought for a jest,
Mightn’t I sit at the President’s desk?
So I went to the President’s office door,
And inside I entered, eyes on the floor.
To my great delight, I found no one there
And began to fool around, heedless of care.
First I decided to sit in his chair
And sat down gingerly, fearing a snare.
Then I started reading a book on Independence Day
When I saw a figure appear in the doorway.
The President was here! I hid under the table.
But right away he saw my name scrawled on his label.
“Come out, little boy,” he said in a soft voice.
“If your respect was a car, it wouldn’t be a Rolls Royce.”
“But I do understand how children need fun,
Though your actions were foolish, they’re all said and done.
Try not to do things like that anymore for you see,
Others you meet may not be as lenient as me.”
So off I went, knowing I had been bested
But I was thinking I was lucky not to have been arrested.
I recalled how the President had let me go good as new,
And I thought, “Mr. President, I want to be just like you.”
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Abigail Fillmore
Zachary Grob - Lipkis
7th
It was a dark, cold, and windy morning in Washington DC
when Abigail Fillmore, wife of the seated President Millard
Fillmore, was walking down the street to visit her cousin.
Normally she would never go out on an errand such as this at
such a desolate time of day. The grey skies were depressing and
the wind chilled her to the bone.
But this was not just an average walk around the area. Her
cousin, Anne Florence, that is her cousin once removed, hadn’t
seen Abigail in months. Or was it years? Yes, it was just over a
year ago that Abigail last saw Anne. Such a miserable day that
was. It reminded Abigail of this day.
The two loved each other, they did. But they had good
reason for not meeting for so long. Anne had some…bad
experiences with the law.
“Nothing too bad,” Anne had said to Abigail. “I didn’t kill
anyone or any nonsense like that.”
But Abigail knew her cousin well enough to know when
she was lying. Yet, she also knew that Anne would never hurt
another living creature.
Abigail had spent hours wondering what Anne could have
done and why she arranged their next meeting place almost a
year later at 3:30 in the morning. Well that’s Anne for you.
Always mysterious.
Abigail walked cautiously into the shack where she knew
her cousin was. The squeak as the door opened, alerted someone
to her presence asking who was there in a raspy voice. Abigail
responded to the familiar voice with her name and proceeded to
walk into the one-room lodging.
The walls were varying shades of white and grey; one
appeared to have been patched up recently. Abigail walked
around the obstacles: piles of dirty laundry, stacks of papers, and
large boxes. A small cot lay in the corner and on it sat Anne
Florence.
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One could tell just by looking at her that she her diet was
limited by her lack of money, but she was a strong woman and
she was wise enough to do well with the hand she was dealt. She
stood up immediately when she saw Abigail.
“Oh, Abby,” Anne cried and she walked over and hugged
Abigail. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“Me too,” Abigail responded. “And I have so many
questions for you, like how…”
“All in good time dear. All your questions will be
answered this morning,” said Anne now in a serious voice. “I
wish I could have told you this earlier but I couldn’t do that to
you and your husband. The reporters would be all over it.”
That was something Abigail had always considered. She
couldn’t be seen with Anne especially not in a way that made her
look like she was trying to hide. That would ruin Millard’s
reputation.
“Is that why we haven’t met in so long?”
“Mostly,” said Anne, sighing. “Yes, I had to pick a time
and place that was secret and far away so that no one would be
tracking me. But that is not the whole reason. I didn’t want to see
you without being able to give you something. All I have is
information.”
“Okay, well what is it then?” asked Abigail half
cautiously, half impatiently.
“I’ve decided to turn myself in,” said Anne.
Abigail was stunned. She was appalled.
“No you can’t do that! They’ll take you away forever
probably,” cried Abigail. “And I don’t even know what you did
but I can guess that it was pretty dire.”
“Yes, yes it was,” Anne said in a serious voice once again.
“But I have to do this. I can’t continue on like this. This, this no
place to live and yet I’m forced to.”
Abigail was crying now. She could finally see the sense in
what her cousin was saying, but she hated it.
“I’ve been running from my past for too long. So today,
my last gift to you is to help you with your future.” She pulled
out a small sphere with many colors that seemed to drift around
in it.
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Abigail couldn’t help but smile. She still had her little
crystal ball. She used to play with it all the time when she was
little. She loved pretending to be a prophet, until she found out
that her crystal ball actually worked.
“Sit down on the cot, dear,” said Anne. “Rest your left
hand on the ball. There we go. Now hold still.”
The predictions were always in riddles and one had to
think a lot to understand them. When they were young, Anne had
predicted that Abigail would run into great power with her star
pupil. Abigail had always guessed that she would become a
teacher but she didn’t understand the “great power” part and the
“with her star pupil.” Once she had married her student, Millard
Fillmore, she understood. She had started him on his path to
political greatness through her teaching career. After that, she
knew to always trust in Anne.
Anne proceeded to not move or make a sound for the next
few minutes. Occasionally there would be a slight tremor but it
meant nothing and Abigail didn’t worry.
Suddenly Anne’s head snapped back. The words that
followed sounded like they were spoken by wretched demons,
and a great number of them too.
“Abigail Powers Fillmore, a Pisces. You have an aquatic
nature, though it has rarely been used as of yet. That will change.
You are selfless and sympathetic. You are imaginative and
intuitive. You are an escapist and you are idealistic. You are
secretive and vague. Your will is weak and you are easily led.”
There is something about having all of your characteristics
listed that depresses a person. But you have to get through that
part to get to the interesting part.
And it’s only bad if you don’t understand the process.
Anne once explained what she had to go through to her cousin.
At first she had to contact the spirits and convince them to
possess her. That was when she seemed to be dead quiet,
although in another dimension she was speaking. Then the spirits
actually take over and they look through all of your memories so
they can tell your future.
“Abigail Powers Fillmore, a Pisces. Soon you will be
victim to an injury, an injury that could cripple you forever
unless it is properly treated. Take precaution that you seek
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medical aid at this time. In 1852, your secret wishes will be
fulfilled.”
Then her head snapped back down and for a minute she
was silent once more. After that she wouldn’t be able to talk for
a while and Abigail knew that she would have to go now. She
got up and crossed over to the door of the shack.
“Goodbye Anne”
Suddenly Abigail ran back into the shack.
“Wait! You need to tell me what you did!” she yelled and
burst through the door. But then she saw nobody else there. Her
cousin, Anne, the prophetess was gone. A cold breeze swept
through the room and Abigail understood.
Anne was never going to turn herself into authorities; she
was running from a far greater power. She turned herself into the
spirits.
In the end, Abigail failed to heed her cousin’s warning and
was victim to a fall on an uneven sidewalk in Buffalo, New York.
She did not seek treatment until it was too late and her ankle had
healed improperly. She was afflicted by this pain for the
remainder of her days, which often made her an unsociable
hostess of the White House. Due to her dislike of playing hostess,
the wish she was to be granted in 1852 was the loss of Millard
Fillmore to Franklin Pierce for a second presidential term. She
is most known as the creator of the official White House library,
which she personally oversaw the fulfillment of through the
purchases of maps, history books and even fiction.
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Portrait of Jane Pierce
Dani Bitar
7th
Jane Pierce, married to Franklin Pierce, was first lady from 1853
to 1857. Known as the shadow of the White House, she spent her
time there in her bedroom writing letters to her dead sons. She
was incredibly pious and rarely left the White House during her
husband’s four year term.
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Mary Todd Lincoln
Clayton Moore
7th
April 14, 1865
Ford’s Theater
Abraham was enjoying himself at the theatre with Henry
Rathbone, a good friend of his, and their wives. He was enjoying
his celebration as the re-elected president and the victory in the
civil war, and on top of that, the play was very humorous. His
wife, Mary, on the other hand, was completely stressed.
Mary’s mind was wandering around and around. She
wasn’t even paying attention to the play because of her mixed
emotions. She was worried about her little Willie who was
constantly in bed because of his heart problems. She was worried
that he would follow in his older brother’s, Eddie, footsteps. She
never liked to talk much about her dead family members. She
was also annoyed at that silly Andrew Johnson for not showing
up to the dumb play even though it was he who had invited them.
She heard her husband chuckle at a joke she wasn’t paying
any attention to. She sighed and remembered about her third and
biggest problem: her shopping. Mary was a shopaholic and loved
to shop at department stores. She felt that as the first lady, she
should look the part. She bought mink scarves, silk petticoats,
velvet dresses, and more. She even added new furniture and
decorations to the White House. She racked up such a large debt
that she could not pay it off. The worst part of it was that most of
it, she only wore once.
She gathered up the courage to tell him when she was cut
off by a deep voice.
“Excuse me Mr. Lincoln,” said the voice attached to no
apparent body.
The four people in the box seat turned around
simultaneously as a loaded pistol came out of the shadows. Then
the hammer fell.
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April 15, 1865
Petersen House
It was early morning when Mary woke up from a horrible
nightmare. When she saw her injured husband in a coma on a
bed and her eldest son sleeping in the chair next to his bed, she
realized it wasn’t a dream. She remembered, very clearly, her
husband getting shot, the screams from the crowd, and the
general who’s name she can never remember fighting off the
attacker but getting himself stabbed in the process. The last thing
she remembered was the man jumping out of the box and her
following her husband on a stretcher to the Petersen’s House.
As she got up from under the covers on the bed next to his,
she could hear her son snoring in his sleep. She just hoped her
husband would pull through. Too many of her loved ones had
died…
May 19, 1865
White House
“Mr. Johnson?” asked Charlotte, Andrew Johnson’s
assistant.
“Yes Charlotte?” replied the president.
“ I think we are having some trouble with Ms. Lincoln.
This morning, a house servant picked up the mail. One of the
letters was another bill from a department store. This one was
$1,340. Also, I think she is hosting another séance at 3 o’clock.”
Andrew sighed. “I did not think she would stay this long
but I think it is time for her to leave.”
Andrew walked up stairs to the room that Mary was living
in. He knocked on the door, but nobody answered. He knocked
on the door again and this time he got an answer.
“Who is it?” asked a young man’s voice.
“Thomas, this is Andrew Johnson,” said the president.
Thomas Lincoln cracked the door open so that they could
talk face to face. “My mother is not in the mood to talk right now
Mr. Johnson.”
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“Robert, let the person at the door in please,” asked a weak
and saddened woman’s voice.
Tad opened the door to reveal a very large room. There
were neat piles of expensive clothes spread throughout. Mary
was sitting on a chair in a corner of the room at her personal desk
eating lunch. She was wearing a simple black blouse, a black
petticoat, and a long black skirt. She had an untouched plate of
biscuits and gravy. She was staring at a picture of Abraham.
“I know why you are here Mr. Johnson,” said Mary.
“Ms. Lincoln, I am truly sorry for your loss but I cannot let
you live here anymore. Your shopping problem has gone too far
and the séances are just depressing you more,” explained the
president.
“You know, biscuits and gravy were his favorite food,”
said the widow. “I would gladly leave, Andrew, but the pension I
received is hardly enough to raise my son.”
“Ok, Mary. I know what it feels like when someone close
to you die, the reason I did not come to the show was because I
just learned from an old friend of mine that my mother had just
passed away. I was crushed.
“I also know that it will be tough for you to take care of
Thomas while trying to repay your debts. So I will recommend
your other son, Richard, to a law firm, some old friends of mine
from law school are starting one up. But you have to promise me
that you will not do anymore shopping.”
“Thank you, Mr. Johnson but I cannot promise you
anything. My addiction takes away the pain of my lost ones. But
I will still leave tomorrow.”
August 24, 1881
Mary’s Old Home
Mary was in her bed at the old home where she raised
Robert and Edward, her first two sons. She was having a dream
about her children’s childhoods when someone awoke her. It was
Robert.
“Mother, I am just telling you that I am leaving early in the
morning to go back to Washington D.C.” explained Mary’s son.
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“I have some good news though. I finally paid off all of your
debts.”
“Thank you Robert, but can’t you stay until tomorrow? I
am having another séance for your brothers and father. I will
make your favorite food, macaroni and cheese, or if you want I
can take you out to go shopping,” begged Mary.
Robert chuckled,“ I would be delighted to stay with you
Mother but I have to go back to work. And, remember that you
were ordered by the doctor not to go shopping anymore.”
Mary sighed and just when she was drifting to sleep, her
crazy and depressed mind realized that she finally paid off her
debts. She was no longer a debtress.
Mary Todd Lincoln eventually died on July 16, 1882 at the
age of 63. She died at her house in Springfield, Illinois. She was
buried with her husband at the Lincoln Tomb. Although she did
have a lot of close friends, her only family member present at her
funeral was Richard Todd Lincoln, her son. As the first lady, she
spent $20,000 on decorations and clothing and after the
assassination she spent $56,000 on clothing. Her son did
eventually bring her debts back to zero right before she died.
Francis Cleveland
Nicholas Gronendyke
7th
My name is Mrs. Von Steuben and I worked as a maid in
the White House for the beautiful Mrs. Cleveland and her
husband, President Cleveland. I have had some adventures with
Mrs. Cleveland and her baby, Ruth. Before I share them, let me
tell you about Grover Cleveland, the President. Mr. Cleveland
was a good president who worked tirelessly for his country. He
was president from 1886 to 1889. He ran for office in 1890 but
lost because the Republican Party put nasty rumors in the
newspaper about him and his new wife. I did not believe those
stories one bit. The newspapers accused him of getting
repeatedly drunk and beating his wife. The American voters
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believed the lies and Benjamin Harrison won the election. I was
heartbroken when that happened. Thankfully President
Cleveland ran again in 1893, and won.
Mrs. Cleveland told me that Grover Cleveland first met her
when she was a toddler and he was in business with her father.
He became her guardian after her father died unexpectedly. After
she had grown up, Grover started to notice how much he loved
Frances, not just as a friend. He like, liked her. He was lucky to
find that she liked him too. They were married at the White
House after he was elected President. It was fabulous. The White
House was all decorated for a Christmas themed wedding in
silver and white. It was all the talk because it was the first time
an elected president married during his term. The American
public approved of the young Mrs. Cleveland, 27 years younger
than her husband. At first I thought it wasn’t right for him to take
such a young wife but as I got to know them I realized how
much they loved each other. The other politicians also liked her
because she was easy going and would make a good First Lady.
Frances was so popular that a number of different products came
out with names such as “Mrs. Cleveland’s favorite”, “Frances
Cleveland’s best” and so on. She was horrified to find out that
her name was being used for shampoos and tonics she’d never
even used. Then she had a baby named Ruth. The public went
crazy and made a number of products in her name too, including
one candy bar, named Baby Ruth which still exists today.
Baby Ruth became a celebrity the second she was born.
Whenever tourists visited the White House they always wanted
to see Baby Ruth. Normally Mrs. Cleveland was fine with all the
cooing and pictures but after the candy bar Baby Ruth came out
the tourists got carried away sometimes. One day when a group
of tourists came to the White House they wanted a souvenir of
Baby Ruth. Mrs. Cleveland discovered them trying to take a lock
of Baby Ruth’s hair from her head. She also found a group of
tourists had been in Baby Ruth’s bedroom and took her toys and
clothes as keepsakes.
Frances Cleveland was horrified when she found out that
her little baby’s belongings had all been stolen so she decided to
take Ruth away so the tourists would not try to take her child
anymore. Frances Cleveland put Baby Ruth in a big handbag to
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hide her so she could sneak out of the White House but when she
walked out on the steps she was engulfed by reporters trying to
take pictures of her and asking questions about her life and Baby
Ruth. Mrs. Cleveland tried to escape the reporters but she could
not so she fled back into the house. Once inside, she ran to the
laundry room and hid herself in the dirty wash to escape by
traveling with the laundry out of the mansion. What she did not
realize was that President Grover Cleveland had just installed a
new invention called the washing machine (back then it was
bigger than what it is today in 2012). A few minutes’ later
Frances and Baby Ruth emerged soaking wet from the new
machine. When she went back inside she ignored the questioning
looks of the workers and stomped into her bedroom and
slammed the door shut.
After an hour in her room, she came out with a plan to
escape the White House that she thought was better than all the
other plans. She had me, her most trusted maid, put on her
clothes, hold a handbag like the one she was using, and go out on
the steps of the White House and attract all the photographers
and press. While I kept the photographers occupied, Mrs.
Cleveland and Baby Ruth went out a side door and were crossing
the spot close to the horde of press when I mistakenly waved to
her and said, “Have a nice day Mrs. Cleveland.” The confused
horde of reporters paused for a moment and then rushed to the
mother and child. They started asking them tons and tons of
questions. As she was struggling to get away from the crowd,
President Cleveland came out to and yelled at them to get away.
President Cleveland demanded to know what had been
happening while he was at the Senate. His wife told him
everything. I felt embarrassed by my mistake. When he heard the
whole story, he had her put the baby in the presidential carriage
and wait there for him. The secret service surrounded them.
President Cleveland joined them and together they journeyed
away from the White House to a camp, owned by their friend
David, far away in the woods. Later this cabin would be known
as “Camp David” but at that time it was just a retreat for their
precious Baby Ruth. Ruth grew up safe and sound under the
watchful eye of her parents and the secret service.
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After Grover Cleveland’s death, Frances remarried and
became Frances Preston. I continued to work for her though she
never totally trusted me after that incident with Baby Ruth. Most
people had forgotten about her by that time despite her
popularity as First Lady. This was made clear when I watched
General Dwight Eisenhower go up to Frances and introduce
himself and ask her where she had lived in Washington D.C. She
surprised him by saying, “I lived in the White House.” He had no
idea it was the former first lady. General Eisenhower was rarely
humiliated, but this snafu embarrassed him mightily. I learned
that he was not the sharpest tool in the shed.
I knew Mrs. Cleveland better than anyone else. She was
the kindest person in the world. She transcribed literature into
brail so blind people had access to books and information. She
supported women’s right to vote. She was beautiful and young
and was a good mother and wife. Frances was also a talented
singer and was fluent in many foreign languages. She was the
youngest and most beautiful first lady to ever have lived in the
White House.
Helen Taft
Kevin Girodo Angelin
7th
Helen Herron Taft wiped the sweat off her brow after a
long day of surfing in Hawaii. She had won a medal for it. This
wasn't the big competition she was looking forward to in a
couple days, this was a small one which was more for practice.
Her friend Johnny also won a medal. She met Johnny the first
time she came to Hawaii. He taught her some things about
surfing that a normal surfing teacher wouldn't know, like some
complicated moves, and the double flip.
William Taft was in Washington D.C. doing his work; as
President of the United States he had many duties. He knew
about the competition and let Helen go and stay a week or two.
Her children were with her, Robert, Helen, and Charles. She said
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that they were her good luck charms. They also loved Hawaii
and enjoyed the beach and watching their mother surf.
They got all of their things and walked to where they had
spent their nights the last couple of days. It was the house of an
elderly man named Robert Sallas. He rents the Taft family one of
his houses every time they come to Hawaii. When they got there,
they greeted him as he was finishing cooking their supper.
Robert had no company most of the time and enjoyed the Taft
family, he cooked dinner for them and ate with them. They very
much enjoyed his presence.
“How was the water today?” he asked Helen.
“Good, the waves were good sized today, unlike
yesterday,” she said.
“I think a storm is coming in,” he continued, “about the
time the big contest is.”
“Good, the waves will be higher.”
“No, no, much bigger than normal. I don't think you
should enter, it's too dangerous.”
“Why not? I can handle it. You don't give me enough
credit,” she said jokingly.
“Oh Mother! I think he's right, but if you go do promise
me you'll be careful!” said little Helen.
“Ohhh, don't worry about me, I'll be fine,” said Helen in a
gentle voice.
Three days had passed, Helen was waxing her surfboard
when she noticed the wind was getting abnormally stronger
every day. Today, tables were tipping over, laundry pinned out
to dry was getting pulled off their ropes and blown into the
streets. She was getting worried that Robert was more right
about the storm than she thought he was. She went inside and
helped Robert get dinner ready.
After the meal she went to sign up for the contest. There
weren't many names written on the page. Helen counted seven
including Johnny's which had the biggest sized letters because he
liked to write his name big. She signed her name on the sheet but
a little bigger than Johnny's just to spite him. She noticed one or
two of the names were foreign, she guessed which countries they
were from, which she was getting better at this by helping her
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husband, William with work sometimes, with foreign
documents.
She returned to the house surprised to find her board
missing. She searched the house for it. Boards were expensive
and she didn't want to have to buy another. When she entered the
children's room she was relieved to find an odd board-like shape
under the covers of little Helen's bed. She smiled sadly to
herself. She knew her daughter had hidden it so she couldn't
enter the contest. She decided not to punish her because she did
it to keep her safe, not to be mean.
It was supper time and the night before the competition.
Little Helen pretended that she had never taken the surfboard
from her mother and would always change the subject when it
was brought up. Robert, since he was aging, fell asleep so Helen
finished cooking. She couldn't blame him, after all, he was
almost eighty, and after all the things he did for them she
decided to let him rest.
The next morning Helen woke up early to prepare for the
contest. She got everything ready and wore a special necklace
which her husband gave her for good luck. Then she woke up
her children and they ate a brief breakfast of cold pork from the
night before and some fruit. Robert decided to come along and
watch.
They arrived at the beach a little early. The waves were
huge and the wind was stronger than ever. It brought chills down
their backs as they approached their spot on the beach where the
children and Robert would watch the contest from.
“Take your places!!” the announcer shouted as the eight
surfers got into position in the shallow part of the water. “You
will be judged with points. Three judges, ten points each, three
categories. The contestant with the most points in all wins,”
continued the announcer. He told them the rules. The three
categories were: least amount of stumbling, highest wave, and
freestyle. First prize was $200, second was $150, and third prize
was $50. The three highest places would also get medals.
“Go!!” the announcer shouted as the surfers raced to get
the biggest wave. Helen tried to stay as stable as she could to
score more points. Johnny was excellent at doing this from a
lifetime of practice with his father.
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A wave came crashing down and formed a temporary
tunnel and Helen took advantage of the moment and went
straight through it. This was done a lot by surfers but she
enjoyed it very much each time the occasion came up. She
continued with a series of tricks she had learned over the years
and finished with a trick she had made up and perfected during
the time of her latest visit there.
Johnny wasn't as lucky. He was tearing through the waves
and saw the biggest wave of the day. He attempted to catch it but
realized a little too late that it was bigger than he had thought
and it crashed onto him and he had to swim to shore without a
board.
When the scores where added up, Johnny got twenty-three
points, a man named Jack from San Diego California got second
place with twenty-five points. The first prize was awarded to
Helen with twenty-eight points!!
Helen couldn't believe she had won. At first she thought
she had misheard and asked Robert what he had heard. He
smiled excitedly and repeated her name. Johnny was
disappointed that he had lost because he had been knocked off of
his board by a huge wave and couldn't finish. Everyone knew he
would have won, but he was happy for his friend and they had a
celebration that night. It was Helen's and the kids' last night in
Hawaii so they made the best of it.
Helen Herron Taft, known to most as “Nellie,” was by far
one of the most progressive First Ladies to ever walk the halls of
the White House. She was the key figure in planting the cherry
trees along the basin of Potomac Park,—it was to be a focal
point illustrating the idea of democracy, a tangible experience to
be shared by all regardless of race or class. Nellie Taft insisted
on being treated as the President’s equal in terms of their
marriage, becoming the first woman to ride with the President
on his inaugural drive through town. She traveled extensively in
Panama, Canada, Japan, the Philippines, and others. In each
country she learned about the land, its people and the culture.
Once, she even jumped off a train in Siberia to taste vodka with a
local mayor. There has never been another First Lady like her.
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Portrait of Edith Bolling Wilson
Ben Ma
7th
Edith Bolling Wilson was first lady from 1915-1921, and was
the second wife of the beloved President Woodrow Wilson. She
has been labeled "the Secret President" for the role she played
when her husband suffered a prolonged and disabling illness in
October of 1919. Their love was of a unique quality. She was
highly conscious of the war effort—WW1—where she set out
sheep to graze on the lawn rather than hire men to mow it, she
also auctioned off the wool to raise money for the Red Cross.
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A Series of Poems on the White House
Sierra Carter
7th
In the Kitchen—a haiku
Tabasco Mushrooms
Let’s hope they weren’t poisonous
Because they were wild
Hide n’ Seek
Playing hide n’ seek in the White House,
It is like you are a little mouse,
Because it is so big and you are so small.
The flag pole on the front lawn is very tall.
The American flag is flying high in the sky,
My friends, my family, and I,
Are playing hide n’ seek in the house that is white,
It is such a wonderful delight!
In the Kitchen 2—a haiku
Confetti veggies
Broccoli, cauliflower
And many carrots
Changing of the Seasons
There is a famous Christmas Tree in winter
For which silver ornaments are cast by a renowned minter.
But summer is very humid and hot,
Do not steal the Declaration of Independence for you will get
caught.
The fall has many orange and red leaves,
Which blocks the rain in the White Houses’ eaves.
But spring is full of Easter Egg Hunts,
Let’s hope the president does not pull a stunt.
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Portrait of Grace Coolidge
Sierra Carter
7th
Grace Coolidge was married to President Calvin Coolidge and
lived in the White House from 1923 to 1929. Before meeting the
president in 1903, she worked as a lip reading instructor for
Clark School for the Deaf. After settling into the White House,
Grace became a popular hostess, and even hosted an event for
Charles Lindbergh after his transatlantic flight.
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Eleanor Roosevelt
Story and Illustration - Lilly Hackworth
7th
Through her dizziness, as she lay tossing and turning in
bed, one memory shone clear: that of the expressions on the
King and Queen's faces as they stared down at the plate of hot
dogs. That had never bothered her before – Eleanor Roosevelt
had made it a point of honor with herself not to be bothered by
such things. Besides, she still didn't see why it was a
problem...her husband and their whole staff were really
embarrassed, though. That was when she had hired Henrietta
Nesley as a housekeeper. Or was it Nesbitt? She never could be
sure. Either way, her cooking was terribly bland – rather like her
own. Franklin always did joke about that, she reflected. She
thought back to a letter sent to her by one of her friends.
Dear Eleanor, it ran, Thank you so much for the swell
party you hosted last week. It was keen. I am a dead hoofer – I
can't dance to save my life, but the whole thing was quite ritzy.
The big cheese kept high-hatting me, though. I think he
overheard my comment about his speech being all talk, and too
far-fetched – that no one would go for it, and that he was a fathead. He sure snapped his cap at that! Is Mr. Roosevelt in
cahoots with him? Well anyways, the party was absolutely swell.
Thanks so much. - Phyllis Merython
Eleanor had been quite surprised by that letter – she hadn't
thought Mrs. Merython had enjoyed the gathering all that much.
She was not at all surprised, however, about the lack of a
compliment concerning the food – no one ever did. But Mrs.
Merython hadn't even mentioned it! If she had been in Mrs.
Merython's place, she might have commented on it being
interesting, or unusual, or arranged nicely, or something of that
sort – that was common courtesy. It certainly could not be called
good!
Back when she used to do all the cooking at parties, she
would usually serve eggs, and hot dogs, and maybe a platter of
fruit. Oh, and, if she remembered, maybe a plate of store-bought
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cookies for dessert. A friend had once spent weeks trying to get
Eleanor to improve her cooking skills, even going so far as to
host parties just so she could see what kind of food one should
serve and how. The friend had served roast beef, homemade
sourdough bread, a vegetable soup, and some fruit salad, along
with an extremely enticing table of cakes and pies and other
fancy desserts. Eleanor had been very impressed, but she could
not, no matter how hard she tried, learn to cook and serve such
things.
Once she hired the housekeeper, the food was a bit more
appropriate, however it tasted, if anything, worse. Ms. Nesbitt
cooked soups, and expensive cuts of meat, and other 'party'
foods, but they didn't turn out right. She always thought
something in the recipe looked unnecessary, so she omitted it. It
usually turned out to be necessary. Her bread was hard as a rock
and very dry. With the fruit she did fairly well, but her desserts
were atrocious. She never did learn how to make cakes and pies
properly; she couldn't even make cookies taste good with the
simplest recipes.
Once one of the guests at a White House party near the
beginning of Franklin Delano Roosevelt's second term in office
had mentioned the food – had even complimented it! Both the
Roosevelts and their staff had been quite surprised by that.
“My dear Mrs. Roosevelt,” the distinguished foreign guest
had said, “Thank you so much for the delightful meal. It
reminded me of the food my dear old mother used to make when
I was a child. The whole evening was just swell. Please convey
my thanks to the President.”
“Soitently,” she replied, “I would be happy to. And where
did you come from again? I'm sorry, I must have missed it.”
“Indeed you did not, Mrs. Roosevelt. I never said. You
see, I shouldn't be here, and I was unsure whether any stoolies
were present.”
“A-are you a criminal? If so, scram this instant or I'm
calling the guards!”
“Of course not, my dear Mrs. Roosevelt. I wouldn't dream
of coming here if I was. It would have been quite interesting to
say I was though, wouldn't it? There are so many pushovers in
this world! No, I am merely a Englishman posing as a foreign
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ambassador to learn some about the Germans from their
embassy. However, I am a terrible liar – not even the stupidest
little child would believe me. I decided it would be easier just to
not be introduced. After all, I'd rather not have the Germans
figure out what I'm up to and find some way to frame me for
some crime. I'd rather not get pinched – my boss would get
annoyed if I was put in jail before learning anything.”
“You're a spy? Just the idea gives me the heebie-jeebies,
and you're not even spying on the Americans! Silly me. Now,
scram!”
“All right, ma'am. I just wanted to say what a keen
gathering it was. Good-bye!”
He had been such a nice young man. He later went off to
assist the British forces in Germany, and died. At least, she
thought so – her memory of those years was not at all clear. It
had been such a dreadful time. She did all she could at the time,
to help those in need and support the causes she believed in, but
once it was over, the easiest thing to do was to block it out, and
not think of it if she could help it.
Following her own advice, Eleanor stopped thinking about
that time of her life. It was over and done with, and she need not
reflect on it. Her mind drifted on to the Roosevelts' relationship
with each other: it was not one of love, Eleanor reflected, but of
necessity. Each needed the other, and they were of great use to
each other. Franklin promoted Eleanor's political career, and
assisted her in reaching her ambitions, despite her great
independence. In return, Eleanor assisted Franklin with his
political career and goals. When Franklin was crippled by polio,
Eleanor became his number one assistant. She helped him
establish good social relations, and helped him in gaining
political power. She was also his eyes and ears, looking out for
places that needed help, or things that needed fixing. In this
way, she became invaluable to her husband, especially when he
became president. Due to her husband's disability and her own
passion for helping causes she believed in, Eleanor Roosevelt
became quite a well-known and beloved lady – one of the most
influential First Ladies. Even the modest Mrs. Roosevelt had
picked up on her popularity, and noticed the great impact she had
144
on people, even those she had never met. She was quite proud of
her accomplishments, and to think what a low start she had had!
Portrait of Eleanor Roosevelt
Eleanor's wandering mind drifted back to her own
childhood. She had had an unhappy and traumatizing one. Her
mother did not think her frumpy daughter would ever amount to
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much – hence the nickname “Granny.” Eleanor had hated that
nickname, and it certainly made love for her mother rather hard
to find in her heart. However, she loved her father very much,
and he, in turn, certainly adored his only daughter. However, he
also loved liquor, and eventually Theodore Roosevelt, his
brother, consigned him to an asylum. Then came the hardest
time in her childhood years – the period of insecurity following
the death of both her parents and one brother by the time she was
ten. She and her one remaining brother were left in the care of
an imperious grandmother.
“Anna Eleanor Roosevelt, what do you think you are
doing? And you, Gracie Hall Roosevelt! Get back here this
instant!”
“Yes, ma'am,” the two replied, with a weary look at each
other.
“Now, Anna Eleanor, sit down on this chair like a little
lady and sew. And Gracie Hall, get up to your room and into
some new pants. Those are filthy! And then, get back down here
and work on your arithmetic. Now scram!”
“But Grandmother...” Hall complained, “I don't want to
work on my arith-”
“Now!” she interrupted, and as he stomped up the stairs
to the attic, “Anna Eleanor, your posture is terrible! Sit up
straight, and cross your legs. Better. Now let me see that
embroidery you have been doing. Anna Eleanor! The hem is
completely crooked, and the “S” is backward. Rip it all out and
start again!”
“But Grandmother...”
“When I tell you to do something, I mean for you to do it.
You and your brother both! Such impudence – children today!
Now, in my day...”
“Yes, Grandmother, that's right, Grandmother,”
interrupted Eleanor in an attempt to head off a story with a
moral about how superior the raising of children was in her
grandmother's day. “How's this? Oh, look, Hall's back. Hi,
Hall! Swell-fitting pants you got there!” she continued with a
mischievous grin.
“Swell-fitting pants you have there, not got, Anna Eleanor.
And Gracie Hall, what on earth is the matter with those pants?
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You would think I didn't spend a fortune on new clothes for you
and your sister. Ungrateful brats!”
Eleanor and Hall grinned at each other, each clearly
thinking, “That's because you don't!”
“Now what are those grins about?” the old lady
demanded suspiciously. “Gracie Hall, have you not any other
pants you can wear?”
“No'm. Only my church ones.”
“Fine then. Start your arithmetic. We have wasted enough
time.” Hall settled down forlornly – he did so hate arithmetic.
Eleanor went back to her sewing, and their grandmother
presided over the scene with a lordly manner.
The rest of that day was blurred in Eleanor's memory. All
that she recalled was that it had been an extremely boring day
doing mundane inside tasks when the two children could have
been outside having fun. Their grandmother had been so old
fashioned. Quite the fuddy-duddy!
But all that misery had ended when she first started
attending Allenswood Girl's Academy in London in 1898. That
excellent school was run by Marie Souvestre, whom Eleanor
found to be a great role model, and a huge influence on her
educational and emotional development. Those had been some
of the best three years of her young life, and she was extremely
grateful to have gone. She had no disturbing memories to
ponder about that period of her life, she was positive about that!
Except, well, maybe...no, she did not wish to think about that. It
was not all that disturbing, or that clear in her memory, for that
matter.
Having thought about all that had been drifting in her
mind, striving for attention, Eleanor's mind was at rest. And
with her mind at rest, her body soon followed, and she slid into a
deep, peaceful sleep.
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Mamie Eisenhower
Aleeza Malik
7th
July 8, 1922
It’s hot, it’s humid, I’m sweaty and I’m absolutely
disgusted with this place. Out of all the places I had dreamed to
live, Panama was NOT one of them. I mean, I knew not to get
my hopes up too high, but this? This is just terrible!
All day long, I’m chasing away bats, killing mosquitoes or
looking around for lizards and cockroaches. I hate bugs—I was
certainly not brought up to like them, or tolerate living with
them. My father wouldn’t have stood for it. I love Ike, I do, but I
hate being a military wife. Why did the military have to send us
here?! Oh no –I see another bat! Hopefully this one won’t take as
long to get rid of!
July 9, 1922
Today was a pretty good day. Well–except for the part
where I found three new mosquito bites on my leg! I sent out for
a mosquito net to go over the bed so at least I can rest easy at
night and hopefully not get too many more bites.
I have good news… and some bad news. The bad news is
that that bat from yesterday is still here! It just doesn’t want to
leave! Anyway, the good news is that we’re going back to the
states in a couple months! I can’t wait!
November 13, 1922
I just got back from the U.S.A! it was nice to be away
from everything down here for a while! Turns out we’re only
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staying here in Panama for a couple more months, then it’s back
to the states. Ike’s taking us to Paris! He’s writing a book on
some battlefield in World War I.
December 21, 1922
I know it’s been a while since I wrote anything. This darn
country is just full of disease. I caught the malaria bug from one
of those dastardly mosquitoes. They’re so big out here they just
tear through this net. I’m better now, but thankful we will be
leaving this horrid country in just a few short months.
February 9, 1923
Thank God I’m out of Panama, no more bugs or bats! Now
we are in Washington. We are going to take a trip down to the
Philippines. I have never been there so I think it’s going to be
quite an interesting trip!
June 10, 1923
Well… I was right! The Philippines was an interesting
trip! And by interesting, I mean it was only a few notches above
Panama. The bugs, the creatures, the heat—all the same.
It was quite a challenge for me because we got in a car
accident that forced me into a coma, but I’m all better now! It
was scary there for awhile I guess, Ike told me about it later. I
have always wondered if he loved war and the army more than
me, but the way he looked at me the day I woke up told me
otherwise. I fell in love all over again.
We have been travelling across the United States because
of Ike’s job. The Grand Canyon was beautiful, and Florida? I
wish I could live there! San Francisco was a bit dirty but it was
still nice! I think I’m somewhere in between country girl and city
girl. All the travelling has made me so tired! Being an army wife
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can be more exhausting than you think, especially with the baby.
John is an easy child, but sometimes I wish we could afford help.
January 12, 1930
Nothing extremely interesting has happened for the past
couple of weeks…months…years! Just been travelling from this
place to that place, one city to another, one state to the next. I
can’t remember where we’ve been or when the last time was I
saw my parents. Paris was lovely to be sure. Oh well, maybe
things will get more interesting soon.
May 7, 1950
Well… I guess life’s a little better. John is off to college
like his father, not college really, it’s a military academy. Ike
will be president of Columbia University soon, but he’s going to
spend next year in Europe. Something about training NATO
troops. People have been talking about Ike becoming president.
Well… I guess we’ll see what happens.
January 21, 1953
That thing about the presidency, it was true. I’ll be living
here for a while, in the White House. I know it’s not a permanent
home, but if Ike manages to run for two terms, I’ll be able to stay
here for a whole eight years. And I finally have all the help I
need and no children left to raise. What a life so far.
150
Lake George, NY:
Lake George
Last of the Mohicans is a book full of historical and
geographical misconceptions, by the beloved James
Fennimore Cooper. In an effort to rectify this
situation, we have failed—in truth we made it
worse, but this time on purpose. The students have
written stories in tribute to James Fennimore Cooper,
albeit somewhat sardonic ones; they crafted stories
with his original characters, white soldiers and
Indian warriors from the 1750’s, and put them into
more modern settings. From the lady pilots of WW2,
to the roaring twenties, the students had to keep in
mind the time period and political confrontations at
hand historically.
151
The Pain of Love
Zoe Wilson
8th
In a small town called Helmstock, there lived a sheriff
with his beautiful daughter, Cora. Cora was arranged to be
married to the richest man in town, Heyward. Heyward was selfcentered and very arrogant, but Cora's father didn't care, as long
as they were getting money. There was a small problem though,
Cora was not in love with him and didn't want to marry him. In
her heart, she refused this proposal because she was in love with
the town criminal, Uncas.
She knew her father would never approve, so she was
seeing Uncas behind his back. Her father, one night, saw Cora
put on her shawl and sneak out of the house. He followed her to
Cliff Heights, a famous tour sight, in that area. Suddenly he saw
a man riding a horse. He tried to get closer, taking cover at any
possible hiding place. He finally got close enough to see who it
was. He was hoping it was Heyward and that Cora had grown
fond of him, but it wasn't. It was Uncas! Cora's father became
furious and wanted to jump out of his hiding place and scream at
Cora, but he thought of a better plan, and left.
Cora kept sneaking out each night and was back at her
house by sunrise. Until one night, at about midnight, her father
went to the other sheriff in town. He told him that he got a tip
from someone about Uncas going to Cliff Heights that night.
They went to the cops' houses, telling them to get ready and to
get their horses. So off they rode, to Cliff Heights, getting their
guns loaded at the same time. When they got to Cliff Heights,
they arrested Uncas. Cora started to cry. Her father went up to
her and screamed at her, saying, “You may never see Uncas
again! You're engaged to Heyward! He is a fine man and you
WILL marry him! I will make sure Heyward does not find out
about this.”
Cora tried to hold her tears back, but couldn't.
Cora didn't listen to him and went to see Uncas in jail, but
secretly. Fortunately, the police didn't have enough evidence to
convict Uncas of robbing the local bank, so Uncas was released.
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Cora became very happy, but she couldn't sneak out at night to
see him because she knew her father would be watching her. Her
father thought that she hadn't seen Uncas since he screamed at
her.
One day, when her father was at work, Uncas came by the
house. Cora was sewing a new satin dress for herself when
Uncas came. Uncas was in a disguise and a very good one too.
He was in all black and Cora didn't recognize him and mistook
him him for a robber. She got her father's cane and went
downstairs. Uncas had let himself in, thinking that Cora knew it
was him. Cora looked around and then saw the “robber”. She
was just about to hit him, when he turned around and said,
“Stop! It's me, Uncas!”.
She stopped herself just in time and said, “Oh Uncas! Why
would you scare me like that?”
“I thought you knew it was me. I suspected that you got
my message, saying that I would come over today. It was in our
secret code language.” Uncas said.
“My father must have thought it was just another
advertisement from the saloon and threw it away.”
“Well I'm sorry for scaring you.”
“It's okay. I'm so glad to see you. I've missed you. Are you
alright?”
“I've missed you too. I'm fine. I just came to tell you to
meet me at the old mansion tonight, whenever you can.”
“Okay. I'll be there!”
“I must go now.” Uncas said, as he hugged Cora.
As Uncas was about to leave, Cora said, “Wait!” and gave
him a necklace.
“It will give you good luck.” Cora said.
“Thank you.” Uncas said, as he left.
Cora sighed and wished that she didn't have to sneak out,
but she knew it was for the best. So that night, when she knew
her father was asleep, she sneaked out. When she got to the old
mansion, she yelled, “Uncas! Where are you? Uncas!”
When he didn't reply, she went inside. She heard footsteps
getting closer and closer. She became so happy and ran up to hug
the person. But then she realized it wasn't Uncas, it was
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Heyward! She slowly backed away and asked, “How.....How did
you know?”
Heyward said, “Your father saw you and told me about
you and Uncas, so I followed Uncas here, knowing that he would
be meeting you. I came to talk to him, man to man. He started
telling me that he was going to tell you tonight that you guys
shouldn't be together because you're marrying me. He also said
that he doesn't love you anymore and that he has found someone
else. He decided that it would be better if I told you, so he didn't
have to see you.”
“No!! You're lying!! He does love me!” she screamed.
Heyward went up to her and tried to comfort her, saying
that everything was alright and that she has him. She yelled,
“Get away from me! I will never love you and I definitely will
NOT marry you! I know Uncas loves me! He didn't leave!”
Cora tried to get away from Heyward and tried to hold
back tears, but her long silk dress got snagged on a nail and she
tripped. Heyward became furious and said, “He left you!! He
doesn't love you! Why can't you accept that??! Why do you even
love him? He's a criminal!”
Cora refused to believe Heyward and he lost it. He
grabbed his pistol out of his pocket and threatened her, saying
that if she didn't come and marry her, he would shoot her. Cora
told him that she would rather die than live with him anyway.
Heyward cocked the gun and told her that he would count to ten
to let her think it over again. She didn't change her mind and told
him so. So when he got to ten, he shot.
Heyward had tied Uncas up and covered his mouth with a
handkerchief. Heyward put Uncas in a corner of the room and
left him to watch all that had just happened. Heyward went to the
corner of the room after and untied the handkerchief. Uncas
screamed as soon as the handkerchief was out of his mouth. He
screamed, “Cora!!!! Cora!!!! What have you done?! You're a
MONSTER!!!”
“You're the one who started this all. You just couldn't stay
away from her, could you?” Heyward replied. “You shouldn't be
blaming me, you should be blaming yourself for what just
happened to Cora. Now if you don't mind, I am now a single
man.”
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Heyward left without untying Uncas, and also left the gun.
Uncas found a sharp object and cut the rope that tied him up.
After, he ran to Cora and was crying. He carried her to her father
and told him what happened. Her father became angry at
Heyward and arrested him. Heyward was put in jail. Cora's
father forgave Uncas and told him that he should have let him
and Cora be together and then nothing would have happened. He
also said that he shouldn't have arranged for Cora and Heyward
to be married. Cora's father retired from being the sheriff and
lived a sad, quiet life. Uncas became depressed and blamed
himself for Cora dying. After a few months passed, Uncas
couldn't handle the pain anymore and committed suicide. Cora's
father buried Uncas next to Cora, saying that they would be
together in the afterlife.
Who is Lincoln Anyway?
Ian Wilson
8th
The day before the great battle between the army led by
Magua and the army led by Chingachgook, a huge storm cloud
came rolling in silencing the men mid speech in their respective
camps. The cloud was so ominous they were unsure of their
impending battles. The leaders met in the middle of the field to
parley.
“Well it looks like we will have to postpone the battle to
another day,” Heyward said.
“You can't postpone a battle, you imbecile,” said
Hawkeye.
“Who says?” asked Heyward. “That cloud looks like no
walk in the park, and battles are difficult enough on sunny days.”
“Have it your way then,” said Hawkeye.
“That’s what I thought,” said Heyward, stroking his chin.
Silencing their conversation once again, the cloud began to
spin loudly, turning into a rather imposing tornado. The funnel
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whipped them up into the sky, where they found Magua,
Chingachook, Cora and Alice. They woke up later in an
unfamiliar world full of lights and sounds and horrifyingly dirty
air.
“Where are we?” asked Heyward.
“Yo, dog wuzzup?” said a boy whizzing by on a board
attached to wheels.
“What is that gentleman saying?” Heyward said to
Hawkeye.
“I haven’t a clue, I was just getting used to the way you
speak, Heyward.”
“Excuse me kind sir, pray tell what city are we in?”
“Woah! What’s with the speech, dude? We’re in D.C. yo!
Hey, is that chick single?” the boy said, having circled back on
his wheeled instrument to regard her beauty. Alice fainted.
“That’s my love, dude,” Heyward said, experimenting with
the language of the locals.
“Who is this dude?” Chingachgook said to Heyward.
“It sounds regular to the outsiders, I have deduced it means
something akin to ‘gentleman’ or ‘sir,’” said Heyward.
Out of nowhere came a fist from the boy Alice was now in
love with flying towards Heyward’s face, who managed to duck.
“We have to let the lady decide who she wants. Thems is
the rules of 2012,” said the boy.
Chingachgook pulled out his hatchet, scaring the young
boy, and leaving them once again alone in the strange place, in
the middle of the street. The former combatants found
themselves banding together in this strange set of circumstances.
The rest of the day went on and was a little awkward
because everyone was staring at them because of the way they
talked and the clothes they were wearing. The Mohicans were
still dressed in their loin cloths, and the girls were wearing their
large bustles. They heard one man slur some comment about
being re-enactors, so they just went with that story, though they
had no idea what it really meant. They found a park with a
gazebo and fell asleep.
In the middle of the night they were attacked by Magua.
When the cops came, Magua said that these people can't do that
156
in the middle of the battle and tried to attack the cops. This
didn’t go over so well and they all ended up in jail.
“Okay, you each get one phone call,” said the officer.
“What is this phone call you speak of?” asked Cora.
The cop looked at her likes she was crazy and then walked
away whispering to himself, Why do I still have this job.
The rest of the night the group stayed on one side of the
cell as Magua's people stayed on the other side. In a strange turn
of events, a car crashed in the room. They all looked confused
and it was the guy that had punched Heyward in the face. He
asked them to get in, but they couldn't all fit so some climbed on
top of the car. The car started to go really fast and then stopped
and everyone on top of the car went flying. The driver told them
to get out and leave this place and then drove away quickly.
“He's dreamy,” said Alice.
“What?” asked Heyward.
“Forget about her, there are a ton of women here,” said
Magua, looking around him at the busy nightlife scene. “And the
dresses are so much shorter…”
“I think we should run,” said Hawkeye, hearing some
sirens in the distance, “I don’t exactly know what those sounds
are, but they make me nervous.”
They all agreed and ran away. They spent the night in a
dark alley where they discussed all the odd things about this new
world, words they’d picked up from their hour in jail: cell
phones, cars, planes and so much more. They all decided that
they had to get back to their world. This one seemed too hard to
adjust to.
They had no clue about how to get back and were
throwing ideas around, when out of nowhere a mysterious voice
said, “I know how you can get back.”
“Show yourself,” Heyward said, standing slowly, and
pulling his sword.
“Do you want to get back to your world or not?” said the
voice.
“Fine then, speak,” said Heyward, withdrawing his rapier.
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“There is only one way you can get back to your world.
You must steal the president's secret book,” said the mysterious
voice.
“Sounds simple enough,” said Hawkeye.
“That’s what you think, here take this, you will also need it
and one more thing. You have until the 15th of March,” said the
mysterious voice and he left, dropping a small zippered bag onto
the ground.
The rest of the night they planned how to steal the book.
The items inside the bag that the mysterious person gave them
were two invisibility cloaks, two maps, one of Washington D.C.
and one of the Library of Congress, and modern clothes for them
all. While the men sketched out the rest of the plan, Cora and
Alice fought over who was going to wear the dress and who
would wear the long denim pants—neither girl wanted the pants.
The next day as Heyward was walking down the street
looking for something to eat, he saw a sign.
WANTED
DANGEROUS
TERRORIST ON THE
LOOSE, REWARD IF
FOUND. DO NOT
APPROACH, CALL 911
IMMEDIATELY.
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He ran back to the group as fast as possible and told them
about it.
“We are being hunted, so we must stay in hiding and only
two of us must go retrieve the secret book. The two that venture
forth will use those cloaks of magic the Voice gave to us.”
Everyone agreed and they had a vote on who would go.
They decided it should be Magua and Uncas. They planned to go
get the book on the midday of March 15, so no one suspected
anything.
As the group discussed the plan the mysterious man that
told them he was actually an FBI undercover agent and told the
government that they could trap the group in the building that
day and take them into custody. The Voice had suspected they
were terrorists when he saw them appear out of nowhere on
traffic cameras his crew had been monitoring.
The day was finally here. Uncas and Magua reviewed the
plan once more before they left. Everyone wished them luck and
Cora told Uncas that she loved him.
They arrived at the Library and it was surrounded by
police. They sneaked by the police but right before they entered
the building, the cloaks deactivated and the police and FBI saw
them and they started chasing them. They ran all over the
building until they finally lost them and only had a few minutes
to spare.
“Magua, we both aren't going to make it out of here alive
so I will distract them while you get the book and get everyone
back home,” said Uncas
“Uncas, you can't,” said Magua.
“Tell Cora that I love her,” said Uncas.
“Wait, no,” said Magua as Uncas left. Magua looked at the
map to find the book and he found that he was not all that far
from its hiding spot. He inches out and grabs the book, running
frantically back to the spot he last saw Uncas. He signals Uncas
to run towards the door so they can escape together. Uncas nods
understanding and begins to open the door, just as the Voice
shoots him square between the shoulders.
“No!” cried Magua.
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Magua realized he couldn’t save Uncas and so he ran the
opposite direction of the all the ruckus taking place by Uncas’
dying body. He escaped the building and ran back to the group.
“I have the book but unfortunately Uncas didn't make it,
he risked his life by distracting the police so that I could get the
book and one more thing he wanted me to tell you Cora that he
loves you.”
Cora started to cry and Alice fainted. The men started
flipping through the book, reading pages out loud at random.
“Who cares about what people do at Area 51 and the truth
of Abraham Lincoln's death, who is that guy anyway?” shouted
Heyward.
“Actually, the people get to do some interesting things in
Area 51, they...,” said Magua.
“Wait, I found it, all we have to do is, look behind me?”
Hawkeye said cluelessly.
“Guys, look,” said Heyward. A portal appeared behind
them and before they went in they agreed to have a memorial for
Uncas because he was very brave. He risked his life so that all of
them could go back to their world; once home, they held a
ceremony to honor Uncas.
Next to the Last Navajo
Story and Illustration - Brianna Johnson
8th
It’s been a year since war had been declared by the United
States after the attack on Pearl Harbor. That happened on
December 7, 1941. The date is now March 12, 1942. European
forces are fighting against the Germans while the United States
is fighting against the Japanese and supplying the Allies with
supplies. But this isn’t a paper about World War II, this is the
story of a young WASP pilot and her friends and family
stationed in Great Britain.
Cora climbed out of the cockpit of her P-51 Mustang. She
took off her helmet causing her long brown hair to tumble out.
Even though Great Britain was usually cold in March, her sweat
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was obvious through the green flight suit. She tucked her helmet
under her arm and made her way back to the makeshift control
tower. She was expecting to log her flight and make her way
back to her tent but was surprised when her CO called her over.
“Corporal, I’d like for you to meet Uncas. He’s a Navajo
code talker. Your next mission is to transport him to the Eastern
front for the Americans. You will be accompanied by Corporal
Munro who will act as an escort. Any questions?” he said in an
Irish accent.
“When do we take off?” Cora asked.
“In two hours. Please tell Corporal Munro. Dismissed.”
was his reply.
Uncas followed Cora out of the room silently and trailed
her back to the mess hall. Once they arrived they separated; Cora
going to sit with her fellow pilots and Uncas going to sit with his
fellow code talkers. Cora heard laughing and talking in a
language she had only heard in radio transmissions. Once they
had finished with their lunch, Cora left to go find Alice, Corporal
AliceMunro, her escort for this mission. Alice had been fawning
over a Major Duncan Heyward, also known as the biggest flirt
this air force base had ever seen. Cora personally didn't care for
Major Heyward as she thought he was obnoxious and rude. As
she walked through the mud between the rows of tents, she didn't
notice she had picked up a shadow until she saw other personnel
staring over her left shoulder. She turned around trying to see
what was behind her when she spotted Uncas, scaring her.
“Aahh! Don't do that. No sneaking up on me.” she huffed,
catching her breath.
Uncas merely grinned a half smile, his eyes sparkling in
amusement. Cora turned around and kept walking to the tent she
shared with Alice. She stuck her head and told Alice the news.
Alice sighed and wiped off the fire-engine red nail polish she
had just put on with a rag and grabbed her helmet, climbing out
of the tent unhappily. She saw Uncas and did a double-take.
“Uh, Cora? Who is this?” she said with a confused look.
Cora grinned, “He's the code talker we're dropping off.”
The group left the barracks and headed to the airfield.
Alice left once they passed her plane to start her pre-flight. Cora
led Uncas to her plane and motioned him into the second seat.
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He levered himself into the seat as Cora came to buckle him in
and explain the parachute handle. Once finished, she sat down in
the pilot's chair and closed the cockpit, starting the engines and
going through her pre-flight. Cora pulled out onto the taxiway
once receiving clearance and took off following Alice's Mustang.
Alice's voice could be heard through their headphones.
“Cora, follow me until further directions. Over.”
“Roger that, Alice. Over.” Cora said.
Cora flew off and dropped off Uncas once Alice gave her
the go ahead. Alice circled above as Cora took off again. Soon,
Cora had joined Alice. As they flew back, there was a shout from
Alice.
“ Ah, Cora! I'm taking fire, repeat, taking fire! Over!”
“Copy that, same here.” Cora responded cooly.
Alice and Cora tried to avoid the fire but the shots kept
following them. Cora tried to fire back but her guns jammed.
“ I'm hit, I'm hit. I'm going down. Over.” Alice screamed.
Cora got on the radio to the base. “Tower, this is Corporal
Munro. Code talker has been delivered but we're going down.
Repeat, we're going down.”
Cora's plane began to shake and spin. Cora saw the
altimeter spin to 0 and heard Alice's screams before her vision
162
turned black. When she came to, she couldn't move her right arm
and her windshield had spidered. She groaned and moved her
head, causing blood to run down her cheek. She passed out again
before managing to extract her arm from the plane. She tensed a
fist and began punching through the glass with her other hand,
her leather gloves protecting her from the shards of glass. Once
the glass was broken, she pulled herself out of the plane and
down the ladder built into the plane. She pulled off her helmet
and gasped as even more blood ran down her cheek. She halfstumbled half-crawled to where she saw the tail end of Alice's
plane. Alice was still passed out in the cockpit. Gritting her teeth,
she climbed up the ladder and tried to wake up her sister. Her
sister woke up and saw Cora standing there. Once Alice was out
of her plane, both girls stumbled into the forests trying to find
Uncas. Their theory was that if they could find Uncas, he could
call for help. The girls stumbled upon an encampment. They saw
men resting on their bergens and a small fire dwindling out.
Without thinking, Alice stumbled up to one of the soldiers and
shook him awake. He jerked up and began muttering in rapid
German. Alice let out a blood-curdling scream which woke up
the whole camp. Cora and Alice were trapped.
Uncas was sitting in a bush with the squad's radio, when
he received the news that two planes were shot down. He was
informed that his squad was to rescue the two pilots. He
responded in Navajo and was given the coordinates of the last
radio contact. He signed off and walked up to the team leader, a
Major Heyward. He whispered the news in the Major's ear
before returning to the radio. Major Heyward gathered all of his
men around. The group consisted of an ex-special forces man,
another code talker and two other men.
The ex-special forces man, nicknamed Hawkeye, said,
“So, we're gonna hike to the crash spot and look for bodies.”
Major Heyward grimaced, “If there are none, we rescue
the pilots. Right now, they're MIA.”
The squad hiked to Cora's crash spot and looked around in
the rubble. The other code talker, Chingachgook, motioned to the
cockpit where most of the glass was in spider-web cracks. It was
obvious that the pilot had already gotten out. Meanwhile,
Chingachgook had climbed into the cockpit and found the log
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book. He grabbed it and climbed out of the cockpit. He showed it
to Heyward who gathered the rest of the group. Uncas gasped
when he saw the picture taped to the inside. It was Cora and
Alice, the two pilots who had flown him to join the squad. One
of the other men pointed to the tail of the other plane and the
group followed the rubble to Alice's plane. The same picture was
found and the log book belonged to an Alice Munro. From there,
they tracked the footsteps of the pilots to a camp where scratched
into the mud were a few love notes in German. Uncas and
Chingachgook radioed the camp to tell them where the girls
were.
All Cora felt was pain and all she heard were Alice's
screams. Her arm felt as if it was on fire and it wasn't helping
that she was being dragged along by it. She stopped suddenly
and let out a shriek as the man leading her jerked her arm. She
heard in accented English:
“Moof or you die, ya?”
Cora kept walking but kept her eyes on Alice. Suddenly,
Alice passed out making the German soldier leading her grunt
and pick her up. They continued on their way until they reached
a long dark building. Once they reached the camp, two black
bags were shoved over there heads and they were led along a
corridor until the masks were taken off and they were shoved
into a cell. Cora caught one name from the whole conversation in
German; Le Renard Subtil, the name the French had given
Magua, one of the best German generals. The two men
transporting them locked the door and walked off, oblivious to
the screams emanating from another room.
Uncas looked up as he received a transmission from the
radio. The message said to ask for a David Gamut on the radio
and to tell him that a General Munro was asking for information
on new hostages that had been taken. Uncas relayed the message
to Chingachgook who made the call on the radio. Seconds later,
they were greeted by the response that two females dressed in
flight suits had come in that morning to the secret camp. Uncas
signed off and told the Major the news. The group made their
way to the camp. They stopped to do recon and nearly had heart
attacks when a man dressed in German uniform made his way up
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to the camp. Hawkeye leveled his weapon at him and demanded
to know his name.
He said in perfect English, “David Gamut, I'm working for
the CIA and MI-6.”
Hawkeye lowered his weapon as the name was said. David
kept talking.
“The two pilots are in that building. There are two guards
outside and a torture chamber inside, so expect four guards total.
I'll try to distract the others away from the building. I need to get
back, the rotation is changing in three minutes.”
He slipped away as the others put their heads together and
formulated plan. Fifteen minutes and five deaths later, the squad
minus one man and the girls had slipped back into the forest. The
group called for extraction and headed for the clearing. Once on
the helicopter, Heyward tended to Alice's injuries and Uncas set
Cora's arm and bandaged her forehead. The helicopter landed at
the base and the girls were transferred to the hospital ward.
Cora and Alice woke up the next day and were glad to see
that they both were still alive without too many injuries. After
exchanging a tearful reunion, they were dismissed from the ward
and were sent back to the United States to recover fully. The
squad that rescued them went back to their usual mission.
Almost four years later, World War II ended.
Love in the Haight
Kiera Robinson
8th
Uncas strolled down the street, shielding his tan,
weathered face from view with his wide-brimmed hat. He had
just passed a particularly loud group of feminist protesters, amd
he thought himself lucky to be alive, based on the way he'd seen
some other men accosted on the street. As he passed the HaightAshbury signs, he hoped there wouldn't be another protest going
on, at least not while he was in the area, although he had heard
rumours of an anti-war protest in the Haight later that afternoon.
165
He wanted to get his errands done as quickly as possible so that
he could get home, attracting the minimum attention possible.
“Hey!” a female voice jarred him out of his thoughts and
he whirled around, a bit startled. A young woman, maybe
eighteen or nineteen, was glaring at him, her hands on her hips.
Her short, dark hair was cropped at her jawline in a rebellious
bob, and her eyes were a dull brown. Despite her plain
appearance, Uncas thought she was rather pretty. Or she had the
potential to be, if she stopped scowling.
“Um...” Uncas felt a bit awkward, his face reddening. The
girl looked expectant and demanding, but he had absolutely no
idea what she wanted from him. She didn't look angry, at least
not at him. “Do I know you?”
“Do you support women's rights?” she asked, rolling her
eyes at Uncas's unintelligent answer. Now she looked downright
bored with him, checking her gaudy pink nails for chips in the
polish.
“Uh... yeah, sure, I guess,” Uncas shrugged, giving her a
hesitant smile. Her face lit up a bit – an overstatement, really;
she had just replaced her frown with an unamused grimace
“Good!” she chirped, her eyes intent on him again. “Will
you be coming out to our rally tomorrow? It's the same place as
today, at three o'clock,” she added, tilting her head to the side as
she waited for an answer.
“I... don't think I'll be available,” Uncas shifted
uncomfortably, looking away from the girl's pleading expression.
She groaned, slapping her hand to her forehead and looking a bit
frustrated.
“Why not? Pleeease come?” she begged, pouting her lower
lip. Uncas swallowed, wanting to give in but knowing that it
could be dangerous for him. Still, if it meant getting to know this
girl better...
“We really need more guys to come to our rallies! No one
takes us seriously!” she continued, widening her eyes and
making a (very successful) puppy dog face. Uncas sighed,
nodding.
“Okay, I'll come,” he mumbled. The girl's face brightened
and she flashed him a wide grin.
166
“Fantastic!” she gushed. “Like I said, it's here, tomorrow,
at three. Maybe come a bit earlier and you can help us make the
signs,” she added, wiggling her fingers in a half wave, before
turning on her heel and jogging back down the street.
“Wait!” he called after her, his lips curling up in a smile. “I
didn't catch your name!”
“It's Cora,” she laughed, not bothering to look back at him.
“I'm Uncas!” he shouted, worrying she wouldn't hear him
from the distance they were. She shooed him off with a vague
hand gesture, and he laughed, continuing his way down the street
and wondering what he had gotten himself into. He never knew
what would happen when he ventured into the Haight.
***
Uncas shut and locked the door to his apartment, sighing
as he made his way to the rally against his father's advice. He
knew that it was a bad idea, that the corrupt cops of the area
would use his ethnicity as a crime against him, especially if the
protest became violent in any way. In his father's words, “You
never know what those crazy San Franciscan girls are capable
of!”
167
Upon arrival at the protest site, Cora recognized him
immediately and bounded over, grinning. “Hey there, cowboy,”
she laughed, pulling him into the throng of tie-dye wearing girls
painting on large poster boards.
The protest had gone rather smoothly, with little
interaction between the police force and the protesters. Uncas
had to admit, he had had a lot of fun with Cora and her friends.
His favorite part of the day had been the end of the protest, when
Cora had cleaned up, planted a peck on his cheek, and had
whispered in his ear for him to meet her in the park later that
evening and to bring food. He had laughed and agreed.
He showed up at around seven o'clock, glancing around
for her but seeing no one except for a few shady looking men
conversing under one of the redwoods. Carefully avoiding them,
he tried again to find Cora, without success. He felt a bit stupid,
standing in the middle of a park with a picnic basket in his
hands, alone.
There was suddenly a weight on his back, pushing him
over and he yelped, falling flat on his stomach. He heard a giggle
and the weight was gone, and someone was pulling him up to sit.
Cora appeared in his line of vision, and he laughed when he
realized what had happened. She grinned cheekily, snatching the
picnic basket from him and starting to unpack it.
They stayed outside until the stars came out and the moon
had risen high up in the sky, and she dozed off, nestled safely in
the crook of his arm.
***
At Cora's house the next day, her father was less than
happy about who she had chosen to go out with.
“I don't want you to see him again, Cora,” Mr. Munro
growled, pacing the floor in front of his daughter, who sat
outraged on the couch.
“You can't tell me who to date, Dad! It's my choice! I'm
not a little kid anymore!” she yelled, standing to her feet and
getting in his path so he was forced to look at her.
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“As long as you're living in my house, I won't have you
dating a native man!” he shouted back at her, his expression
furious. “End of story!”
“No, Dad,” Cora snarled, the look in her eyes dangerous.
“I love him! I'm not breaking up with him. Not for you, not for
anyone.”
“I won't have you living under my roof when you're dating
him, and that's final,” her father said, his tone low and firm. She
turned away with a shrug, fighting back tears.
“Then I guess I'm not living under your roof anymore.”
***
The next day, Cora was over at her friend Alice's house,
where she was staying for the time being until she could find her
own place.
“Yeah, and I heard the cops arrested that guy you like,
Uncas, for loitering yesterday,” Alice said, her eyes wide.
“They arrested him for WHAT?” Cora asked, jumping to
her feet. Alice nodded, her expression solemn.
“He was just hanging out with one of his friends outside of
the grocery, and some cops came and said they were loitering
and somehow participating in 'illegal activities',” Alice used airquotes around the offense.
“That's ridiculous!” Cora gasped, snatching her keys up off
the table. “Are you kidding me? Do you know where they took
him?”
“Um... I think he's just down at the sheriff's. I can't
remember who it was that picked him up,” Alice shrugged.
“Thanks for telling me, though,” Cora groaned, heading
out to her Beetle. She couldn't believe Uncas had got arrested for
doing nothing.
When she got down to the station, an embarrassed Uncas
was standing behind his angry-looking father, who was digging
in his wallet. As soon as Uncas saw her, he launched himself
towards her, drawing her closer to him in a bear hug. She
laughed, all the worries in her mind disappearing. She had
Uncas, and that was all she needed.
169
Walden Pond
Concord, MA
“Let us first be as simple and well as Nature ourselves,
dispel the clouds which hang over our brows, and take up a
little life into our pores.”
-Henry David Thoroeau, Walden
In his most famous work, Walden, Thoreau brings to us the
first signs of regret at deforestation. Starting in 1845, he began
living his life in the woods, at Walden Pond, in Concord,
Massachusetts. In this book he wrote not only of conserving
the ever-present beauty of nature but also wrote on the
misgivings of our society. Though written more than 100 years
in the past, many of the sentiments regarding the economy,
social inequalities and of course nature, remain current today.
In our pressing social desire to ‘be green,’ it seemed
appropriate for our young scholars, who study Biology in sixth
grade, to think about conservation and nature in a new way,
while being guided by the thoughts of our past.
170
Saving Small Foot; Saving the Forest
Ryan Keit
6th
In Boston, there lived a man who watched after his
grandson. The grandfather told many stories to his grandson to
teach him about nature. One day he took his grandson to the
Berkshire Mountains. They went to Littleville Lake. When they
get there, the grandfather said “A lake is the landscape’s most
beautiful and expressive feature. It is Earth’s eye; looking into
which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature. I have
a story to tell you about this area.
“Small Foot was a small, human-like creature, who walked
upright and had hands with opposable thumbs. He was different
than people because he had dull red fur over most of his body
and big brown eyes. His legs and arms were short and he was
about two feet tall.
“Bugs and certain plants were his favorite foods. The bugs
he liked to eat were ants, small spiders, and pincher bugs. The
plants he enjoyed were the Red Maple Leaf trees and the
American Chestnut, which are native to Massachusetts. He only
ate leaves near the bottom of the tree because they are juicier and
he was scared of heights. He drank water from a stream that still
flows into Littleville Lake. He lived in the base of a big tree
where he slept and hid. The tree protected him and kept him dry
during snow and rain storms. His distant cousin Big Foot looks
just like Small Foot but obviously is much bigger. Small Foot’s
only friends were small birds and squirrels. He played with the
squirrels only when they are on the ground because he does not
climb trees.
“People in the nearby towns have heard of Small Foot but
only a few people have claimed to ever see him. His existence
spread throughout Massachusetts and New York State. As the
word spread, more and more people started looking for him to
see if he was real. The leader of the largest group of people
looking for Small Foot was the head of a small private zoo in
Boston. This leader of the zoo was an evil man who wanted to
capture Small Foot to make a lot of money by putting him in a
171
cage for people to see. The group of people, called the small
foot catchers, were all hired by the Zookeeper. They started
clearing the forest by cutting down trees and bushes to try to find
him.”
The grandfather continued the story by telling his grandson
that a boy named Ted who was about the age of the grandson –
eleven years old – was trying to find Small Foot to protect him.
Ted heard about the bad group of people who were destroying
the forest just to find Small Foot. Ted thought this was awful.
The grandson thought this was awful too and asked his
grandfather to continue the story.
“Small Foot was out looking for food one day and when he
came back to his tree it had been cut down. He was shocked that
his tree and the surrounding trees were gone. He did not yet
know that people were doing this to find him. He was very sad
because his home was gone.
“Without a home it was easier for Ted to find Small Foot.
Ted found behind a tree and wanted to take him to a safer area.
He took him about a mile south from where they were killing the
trees and bushes. For some reason Small Foot trusted Ted and
was not too afraid of him; he thought he was gentle. After hiding
Small Foot, Ted came back to the area where the Zookeeper and
the “small foot catchers” were. He saw them cutting down trees.
He told them that he saw Small Foot going north – the opposite
direction of where he tried to hide Small Foot.
“After several days the head of the zoo hired even more
people and they finally found Small Foot hiding under a big
bush. He was scared and shivering in fear of getting trapped by
the zookeeper. Ted heard a big shout.
“‘We found him!’
“Ted rushed quickly to the person who was shouting. Ted,
picked up Small Foot and told the people to leave them alone
and stop destroying nature.
“‘Cutting down trees and bushes not only kills the plants
but hurts the environment by reducing the amount of oxygen and
not removing carbon dioxide,’” Ted said. “‘By killing the plants,
you are killing the habitats of the forest. There will be no food
and shelter for the hundreds of animals and birds that live in the
woods.’” Ted also said that cutting down the forest on the hills
172
would be dangerous and could cause mudslides destroying even
more plants and animals.
“The head of the Zoo got angry and tried to take Small
Foot from Ted. By then the people whom the Zookeeper hired
thought about what Ted had said that wanted to save the forest
and protect Small Foot from becoming a captured creature.
Several of the hired people grabbed Small Foot to protect him
and told the Zookeeper to leave the forest and go back to Boston.
The Zookeeper left, but said he would be back to capture Small
Foot.
“The people were so concerned that the Zookeeper would
be back and take Small Foot that they offered to drive Small
Foot hundreds of miles to upstate New York to the Adirondack
Mountains. They thought Ted cared about the forest so much
they too wanted to help him save Small Foot and the planet,” the
grandfather paused a moment, letting the end of the story float
out onto the lake, letting his grandson take in the message.
“I want you to be like Ted. Preserve nature and all the
creatures in the forests and protect them from people who
destroy Earth’s beauty.”
The grandson said, “I will always do my best to protect the
forest and all of nature. I know this will help save the planet and
all animals and humans that live on it.”
As they drove home that night the grandson said to the
grandfather “I hope next summer that you will take me to the
Adirondack Mountains. Maybe we can find Small Foot there.”
The grandfather smiled. The boy had learned his lesson well.
Big Foot and I
Alex Trippel
6th
The forest is very green,
And Big Foot is very mean.
I find myself running away from him,
As it is getting very dim.
173
I am glad I am still alive
I don’t know if I will survive
I just tripped over a log,
And fell into a pit of fog.
I hope he doesn’t find me lying here
Because I tripped and hurt my knee, I fear.
I don’t know how much farther I can run,
And I’m definitely not having any fun
I can see him looking all around for me,
Ooh! Look out, there goes a tree.
Finally, I stumble out of the pit,
And steal back my survival kit.
I run as fast as I can,
To keep out of the frying pan.
For Big Foot wants me for his dinner,
If I get to my car first, I will be the winner.
I finally reach the forest’s edge,
And leap to hide behind a hedge.
I see the car, it’s a mere five yards away,
I do not hope my resolve is swayed.
All this time I had thought,
And perhaps it was all for naught,
That Big Foot was simply forest lore,
I throw the car into drive and pedal to the floor.
“See ya Big Foot,” I call to him as I leave,
“Forgive me, my reprieve.
I must be gone, for my own dinner is now,
Hasta la vista baby, Ciao!”
174
Ryan Reen 6th
Julian Zarbakhsh 6th
175
The Legend
Duy Do
6th
“Being Green” is being in touch with nature, taking care of
nature and our planet. Before it was cool to own a Prius or
recycle plastic there was Bigfoot. Bigfoot always sticks with
nature; he is always by nature’s side, he is the protector of
nature.
People have often wondered “who is Bigfoot?” They have
made television shows about how to capture the mysterious
beast. Bigfoot is our inspiration for movies and television; he is
our Green Man of the forest. But where did he come from? Is he
animal or human? Let me tell you a story about how Big Foot
came to be.
There was once a man who was very connected to nature;
he had grown up in the forest, camping all summer long in the
forests across America. Hard times had befallen him in
adulthood and had become a lowly hobo. He often said to
himself, Man how am I going to protect nature by being a hobo?
The hobo had a brilliant idea that day. He was going to
move to the forest to protect nature. He would learn to live in the
wild and live off the land. He broke into a store that sold fur
coats, and took the largest and longest one he could find. It was
dark brown. The store also sold boots; he had particularly large
feet and so his boots had to also be big. After a period of time
living in the forest he had become used to weather and the food
sources, and the animals had become used to him. Only campers
were still left unsure of what or who he was. They began to call
the mysterious creature Bigfoot.
It all worked out for him, he even liked the nickname, but
there was one thing he couldn’t get over, his loneliness. There
were no other Bigfoots in the entire world!
He managed to send invites to his other hobo friends,
though how they got delivered to hobos is a mystery to me. They
all came to the forest and had a meeting.
176
“Guys, living in nature is much better than living on the
street. There is shelter and food if you look, and nature only asks
that you protect it from irresponsible campers and loggers.”
“Sounds good. How do we join?” asked one hobo friend.
“Grab a coat and get started.”
One of his friends decided to be a bigfoot of the snow. The
others thought that was a great idea—there needed to be
someone protecting the animals of the snow in the high
mountains. They had all agreed. So some went to the low forests
and some went to the high mountains. They are often called
Yetis or Abominable Snowmen.
Over time, the people who were in the woods and the
people in the snow evolved into hairy, giant humans so they
didn’t have to steal coats anymore, or kill animals for their pelts.
These people had no contact with the outer world except in the
forests and mountains. But sometimes the Bigfoots or the
Abominable Snowmen will come together and reunite to talk of
their efforts in preserving nature.
Mary’s Home
Aaron Chang 6th
Mary, a female crow, decided to fly through the forest.
After a while she got tired and perched on a tree for a rest.
While she was resting, she heard a loud thump. She wondered
about it for a while, but then forgot about it. She flew back into
the sky and saw that the forest was shrinking. She thought it was
natural because many trees usually fall. The next day when she
flew she saw the forest was the same size as yesterday after the
shrinkage. She perched on a tree to rest again. Then she heard
the thumping noise again.
“These trees must be old,” she thought. After the thump, a
whole bunch of birds flew away and startled her. Then a bird
perched next to her.
“You better move before they get you,” the bird said.
“What do you mean?” asked Mary.
177
“They’re going to destroy your home, like they did mine,”
replied the bird.
“Okay, but who are you talking about?” asked Mary. But
by that time the bird was gone.
Over night, Mary tried to figure out what that bird meant
to say. She thought about it over and over again, but couldn’t
figure it out. She went to sleep and the words left her mind. The
next morning she went to fly over the forest again. She wanted
to see if the forest had shrunk again. When she saw it, she was
surprised.
“The forest has shrunk twice as much as two days ago,”
she exclaimed. As she said this more trees were falling down.
And as the trees were falling down, more birds were flying
away. One of the birds bumped into Mary.
“Move, move!” he shouted.
“Why?” asked Mary
“They’re going to destroy your home,” said the bird.
“Who’s going to destroy my home?” asked Mary. But by
that time the bird disappeared.
When she returned to her nest, she thought about the
words the bird said to her. Then she remembered, the bird from
the day before had said the exact same words as the one from
today. It must be ….. Aliens!
The next morning she flew to see if the forest had shrunk
even more. When she flew over she saw the forest was the same
size as yesterday. The forest was peaceful and bright. Mary
thought the aliens had gone away, so she stopped worrying. She
flew through the forest and went home to rest.
The next morning Mary decided not to go out but to stay
home and clean up. While she was cleaning, her house started
moving. She thought there was an earthquake. She flew in the
sky so she would be safe. When she looked backed her tree
collapsed! She had lost her house; she saw that there were
people down there. She flew closer for a better look. As she
drew near, she saw that they were loggers. The trees weren’t
old, they were being cut down! Now all the words that the birds
had said made sense. The loggers destroyed their homes. She
had to find a new place to live. While she was looking, time
passed away quickly and Mary didn’t notice. When it was pitch
178
black she realized it was late. She decided to stay with her
father. When she got there she told her father about everything.
“Dad, there are loggers that are going to cut down this tree
soon,” said Mary
“How soon?” asked her father.
“I don’t know but they’re close,” replied Mary. “We’re
going to have to move to a different tree.”
“Well, tomorrow let’s see if we can find any other trees
that don’t have birds already living in them,” said her father.
“We should get some rest now; it’s going to be a big day
tomorrow.”
“All right,” said Mary.
In the morning Mary and her father flew through the forest
to find a new home. While they were flying Mary saw that the
forest didn’t shrink. She thought the forest would have shrunk
again like yesterday. When night fell, they had no luck finding
an open tree.
“Maybe tomorrow we’ll find a house,” said Mary’s father.
“Maybe father, but most of the other birds live in the trees
since their homes were already destroyed,” replied Mary.
The next morning Mary went to see if the forest had
shrunk. When she looked, the forest was still the same size as
before. Mary kept a close eye on the size of the forest for a
couple of days. She saw that the forest was not shrinking. She
was so happy the forest wasn’t shrinking because then the birds
wouldn’t have any more of their homes destroyed. When she
told her father this news, he was very happy. Now they didn’t
have to find a new home.
The next day she flew into town and went to the court
house. She loved going there because it had an electric wire that
was so warm. She looked through the window and saw two
men. She looked closely and remembered that they were the
loggers. She heard the judge say that they would go to jail or
pay a fine for illegal logging. She wanted to see what was going
to happen. The loggers said they didn’t have enough money to
pay the fine, so they went to jail. She flew home to tell the
whole forest and, they celebrated all night long.
179
A Study in Reflection : The Lake
Jack Garvey
6th
"A lake is the landscape’s most
beautiful and expressive feature. It
is Earth's eye; looking into which the
beholder measures the depth of his
own nature."
-Henry David Thoreau
180
Camping
Nikolas Ohara 6th
The eastern forest is very green,
I enjoy drinking spring water from my canteen.
Hiking can be very relaxing,
And the forest air is not so taxing,
Your lungs can breathe with ease and grace,
But of your trash do not leave a trace,
For if you do, the animals will rebel,
My experience to you I will tell:
While camping once, I left trash by a stream,
After which the foxes planned a scheme,
They planned to rob me of my food,
And I thought that was very rude.
While I was sleeping in my tent
A mountain lion came and made a big dent.
After that, I was walking around,
When bears came out, and they did surround
For a long time I was getting mauled
After they were done, I was quite bald.
In conclusion, I decided never to return,
For their rage for me will always burn.
Kellie Omori
6th
181
The Logger Effect
Joshua Upham
6th
Michael and John, who had been friends since middle
school saw some advertisements in the newspaper about logging
and thought it sounded pretty cool. The idea of using tools and
machinery that they had never used seemed like a great
opportunity, and they wanted to give it a try. Particularly since
they only had two months left in the Amazon before they would
be returning home after a year of travelling. So first thing in the
morning, they went to the advertised meeting place to find out
more about logging. The logger said that they could try it for
one day and then decide if this was something they would want
to do.
When the loggers were driving Michael and John through
the Amazon Rainforest, they saw all sorts of animals, such as
monkeys, snakes, lizards and birds. Michael and John looked
behind them and saw all the machinery that the loggers were
using. This made them really want to start logging. They were
introduced to Bill, the master logger, and he immediately handed
them each a helmet and a very large axe. John was confused and
looked at Bill and asked “Why aren’t we using the machinery?”
Bill answered, “Beginners have to be able to use an axe
before they can use the machinery, union rules.” The men didn’t
like this answer but thought that if that was the only way they
could get to use the machinery, they would do it.
At first John had a tough time picking up the axe, but
eventually he was able to pick it up and swing it at the tree, but it
didn’t have any effect. After an hour, the tree was still standing,
but John was on the ground. He looked over at Michael and saw
that he had managed to cut through most of the tree’s trunk, and
just as he was about to look away, the tree fell to the ground.
Michael looked very pleased with himself and offered to help
John, but John wanted to do it by himself. Soon it was lunch and
everyone met at the truck where they were handed a bottle of
water and a very large sandwich. They sat on the back of the
182
trucks and began talking about their achievements that morning.
Everyone had cut down over six trees, and seemed to be looking
forward to something, but John and Michael didn’t know what.
Later they found out that once you had cut down five trees, there
was a chance you would be allowed to use the machinery.
Michael had a big smile on his face, John did not look so happy.
After lunch everyone was told to go to their machines, and
Michael immediately started to cut down some more trees with
his axe. John, sad and depressed, began to hack at the same tree
very softly. When John looked at Michael, he had cut down four
trees and John was only half way through his first one. He really
wanted to use the machinery, so he asked Michael to help him.
When Bill went around, to see how many trees John and
Michael had cut down, he was surprised and said that they could
use the machinery. John and Michael were very happy; they
would finally have the opportunity to use the machines they had
seen on their way in. Bill took them to Harry, an experienced
logger, and Harry showed them how to use the large cutter, told
them to make sure they kept their body parts and their clothes
away from the very sharp blades, and to remember to shout
“timber” when the tree was about to fall. After about an hour of
being taught how to use the machine, they were finally allowed
to use the machine all by themselves.
Michael went first; he sat in the control box, and pointed
the blade at a large tree in front of him. In just two minutes,
Michael was shouting “timber” and the tree came down with a
loud bang. Then it was John’s turn, and after two hours of taking
turns, the two of them had cut about thirty trees. They stopped
for a break, and looked around. It was only then that they
noticed how quiet it was. It sounded very strange. There were no
bird calls, or birds flying around, no rustling of leaves or any
noises like that. It seemed very different from when they had
come in. The two of them looked around and saw large empty
space, with lots of fallen trees all around. There were a few
animals that had fallen out of the trees, or had been trapped
under them who were running to find new homes, or just running
because they were scared. There were other animals that were
not so lucky, and John and Michael saw a few dead bodies just
lying on the ground. They looked at each other, and both knew
183
that neither of them wanted to do this anymore. They looked at
the other men who were also on break, but these men seemed to
be laughing and having a great time. They didn’t seem to be
upset about what was around them.
Michael took the keys out of the logging machine and
handed them to John. John took them and they both walked to
find Harry to hand him back the keys. After that, they went to
find Bill. They did not want to be the ones that caused animals to
die, lose their homes, or make the Earth a quiet place. They did
not want to be loggers. As they waited for the next truck out of
the forest they wished they could get in a time machine and turn
the time back. They remembered their ride in, listening to the
birds, and watching monkeys, lizards and snakes. On their way
out, they knew that they would not be seeing or hearing many
animals, and this made them sad.
When they got home, the first thing they did was research
groups that would plant trees. The next week John and Michael
were standing next to trees again, but this time, they were
planting them. Planting new trees to replace the ones that they
had cut down the week before. As they planted their fourth tree,
a little bird flew into the branches and began whistling.
Duy Do 6th
Rick Billy’s Adventure
Damian Castagnoli
6th
Rick Billy is a red neck who lives in the woods. He is
about 50 years old and has brown hair. He lives in a cabin with
four hounds. He hunts, and fishes all day. When he gets home he
184
plays music with his wife and kids. He lives in Alabama Henry
County.
One day Rick was outdoors, chopping wood. He was
completely surrounded by redwoods. In the background his kids
were playing tag.
“Ha I got you.”
“You dasn’t.”
“Say, I reckon we been playin’ this darn game for a mighty
long time. Let’s go hunt down some ‘coons,” said his older son.
Rick chuckled.
“You boys be careful. Take Rover wid ya”
“Sure thing papa.”
“And before you do go, help mama clean the house.”
“But we already did.”
“Oh did’ja now. Well I reckon you boys better go along
then have your way, but I want you back in two hours to do
some more chores.”
“Yes papa,” they both sighed in harmony.
Later that evening Rick was sitting on the porch smoking
his pipe, when the boys come back.
“Papa, we caught four coons, see.”
He looked up from the book he was reading.“Well that’s
mighty nice. Why don’t you give’em to your mama and say to
skin’em.”
“Sure thing.”
The rest of the day was spent making and eating dinner,
and then they all had the traditional sing along. The boys were
tuckered out and were sent to bed. By that time it was ten and
Rick was worn out so he kissed his family good night then
conked out.
When Rick woke up he was mighty confused. He was on a
beach, to his right was the open sea; land was nowhere to be
seen. To his left was a thick jungle from which he could hear the
chirping of birds, and the hiss of snakes. In front of him was an
empty arch.
He stood up and brushed the sand off his clothes. He felt in
his pocket and he still had his Barlow knife. He tried to gather
185
his thoughts. Was he dreaming? He slapped himself. Nope.
Definitely awake. He waited and waited.
What happened? Where was he? How did he get here?
Why was he here? When did he get here? Who put him here?
He went in the jungle, collected some wood and made a
fire. He made a shelter in the jungle out of logs. Rick Billy
gathered some soft leaves to lie on and put it under the shelter;
he carved a bowl out of wood and found a circular rock and put
it over the fire. To hunt for game, he made himself a bow. He
went back to his camp with three deer. When the fire was ready,
he cooked it and then had a nutritious meal with some water he
had gotten from a fresh spring. After he lay there on the leaf bed,
staring deep into the fire, consumed in thought of what
happened. He fell asleep pondering deep in his absence of
understanding what happened.
In the morning he got up and went to the shore and looked
around. He made an axe with a rock that he sharpened and
attached it to a stick he broke off a tree with a diameter of one
inch with string he made from plants. He took his axe and cut out
a square from a tree which was two feet wide and inch thick.
While carving into his square a map of the island, he started to
walk across the island, counting his every step. Half way across
he found footprints. He quickly finished his map. Then he went
back to the spot where he found the foot prints and followed
them until he came to a shrine.
The shrine had a cross and on the top, there were three
holes with star light coming through them and each of them
shone down to an object behind Rick. He turned around to see
what it was shining on. There was a hole. He looked down and
saw light. He started walking down a hall of the shrine. As he
was walking the hall, it started to shift its features. From being a
dirt wall it started to turn into a red substance. Something in the
air was making him feel like he was being watched. Finally he
came into a room with dead grass and trees.
Everything around him started to change. The trees
seemed to be moving. The grass was crawling towards the trees.
The trees started to form into shapes. The trees made arms and
186
legs. The grass made the head and chest. Next thing Rick knew a
massive monster was standing over him.
He was absolutely stunned. He didn’t know what to do. He
could use his Barlow knife. He took it out. The tree summoned a
wooden club.
“Ha ha ha. You think you can beat me. I am Tragana, lord
of the Treegonians. You wish to know the reason for your
banishment?”
“Whatr you talkin bout greeny? I got no business here on
this island. All I know is that I gone kill you and you gone be
dead…….wait, does that make sense? Oh well, whatr you talkin
about Tregnantana?
“You are here because you have a shotgun.”
“Ok, but who cares? I gone pud you out your misery
anyway.”
And so the battle began. Rick The hillbilly fought against
the monster. “Greeny” attacked first. He swung his club but Rick
dodged and stabbed the tree. This process repeated several times.
Then Rick the Hill Billy stood over the form which was now
glowing. Tragana exploded and all that was left was a green orb
of light.
Etched on the stone were words telling him to put the orb
of light into the arch, then walk through. Once he got back he put
the orb in the arch and the arch’s center turned green. He walked
through and he was back on his porch smoking his pipe. His
children were playing tag. And his wife was in the house.
“Hon do you want pork or beef for dinner?”
“Beef.”
187
Joshua Upham 6th
A Forest is a Home Too
Matthew Le
6th
The McKirkley family couldn’t wait for their camping trip
to the beautiful forests of Maine. They all were excited to get out
of smoggy, noisy Los Angeles. They were eager to experience
the cool and quiet forests of Maine.
One night they were all sitting around the campfire talking
about the woods and their campsite. They wondered about how
long the trees had been there, some of them were so large. They
also talked about the animals that lived there, and all the wild
things they had seen on their trip so far. They discussed how
they wouldn’t have been able to see the same things in Los
Angeles ever.
Alex, the oldest child of the McKirkley family, started
picking on Louis, the youngest child, saying that he would never
survive in the woods alone. Alex and Louis started to argue this
point, while their sister Jetta, just ignored them. Eventually their
mom came in and calmed them down.
188
The next morning Louis went off to play with Buddy, their
dog, over a small hill near the camp. The rest of the family was
in hurry to finish packing so they would not miss their flight and
didn’t notice the young boy and his dog walk off. In all the
commotion they forgot Louis and Buddy. When Louis and
Buddy were done playing, they came back to camp to get in the
car, go to the airport, and fly home. But they found the site
empty.
“Alex, Jetta, Mom, Dad? Where did you all go?” called
out Louis.
At the airport Tom and Mary, Louis’ parents, still had no
idea that Louis and Buddy were not with them. As they boarded
the plane, Mary felt like she had forgotten something. She did a
head count and realized Louis was missing. They ran to the
airport phone to call the forest ranger station. The rangers said
they would send out search parties the next day because it was
already getting dark.
Back at the camp, Louis saw it was getting late, so he
made two beds of leaves and snuggled close to Buddy to keep
warm. The next morning he and Buddy woke up to the sound of
growling, and when he opened his eyes he saw a mountain lion
in front of his face, only a couple centimeters away.
Buddy started to get up and was growling back at the
mountain lion, moving into attack position. Louis looked at the
paw of the lion, Buddy saw it too. Louis saw that her paw had a
thorn in it; he slowly reached for the thorn and gently pulled it
out. The mountain lion started licking his face. She tugged his
pants and took him to a cave where there were three cubs, with
whom Buddy played.
Several days passed and Louis still had not been found. He
didn’t seem to mind it though, he had become one with the
forest. Louis and Buddy had become friends with many animals
like the bears, skunks, squirrels, and beavers.
One day as Louis went out for a stroll with Buddy and
heard voices. He followed the sound and saw two construction
workers unloading a bulldozer.
“Well I finally have the approval to cut down this section
of the forest,” Worker 1 said.
189
“Really! That’s great! Now we can build the hotel. So
tourists can instantly go in the forest with a guide to see the
animals. Can I see the paper that the government approved?”
said Worker 2.
“Sure, here you go. This is the original one, without it
construction of this place cannot be done,” said Worker 1, as
they got into their truck to leave.
Louis whispered, “This is terrible. If they tear down this
part of the forest then the animals will lose their homes! And the
tourists will never let the animals have privacy and will pollute
the land! We have to do something Buddy!”
Until now, Louis had never realized that the forest was
such a wonderful home to so many different animals. He
wouldn’t stand for humans to come in and destroy it for their
pleasure. He knew in his heart it was not right.
So when he got back to the cave and called all his friends,
the ducks, skunks, bears, mountain lions, fishes, beavers,
raccoons, squirrels, porcupines, and deer. He made a plan and set
everything up that night.
The next morning all the construction workers started their
bulldozers and chain saws. Louis could see them drinking coffee
and laughing so loudly they didn’t even notice when a flock of
ducks flew in carrying skunks in their beaks.
“Let them have it!” cried the lead duck.
The skunks let their stink fly and caused the workers to
jump out of their vehicles. Several bears, raccoons, mountain
lions, porcupine, and deer charged in. Louis and his dog ran in
front of the attack.
“Hey you all!” said a group of squirrels in unison. The
workers looked up in the trees and suddenly the charge stopped.
They saw a little squirrel up in a tree and heard him talking.
“You want a fight, or do you want to turn your tails, and
run?”
The workers were too astonished to respond.
“So, no reply huh? Well, you’ll just face the fire!” yelled
the squirrel.
190
His speech was followed by a colony of squirrels popping
out of the trees and throwing down millions of pinecones and
nuts. Workers were being hit from all directions.
Once the raid stopped the charge began again. Workers
were getting shot by quills, rammed by antlers, and bitten by
squirrels. They were also clawed all over their bodies.
Eventually they retreated but they had to run across a river. The
only way across was a log that fell down a long time ago. All the
fish jumped out of the river, causing some men to lose their
balance. The fish continued their strike by slapping the fallen
workers’ faces with their fins. Soon the beaver and his family
finished chomping the log in half and the foreman and the rest of
the workers fell into the river along with the document allowing
the men to cut down the forest. The men swam across and ran
away.
The attack had stopped, but sounds were now coming from
a rescue chopper that had appeared during the fray. All the
animals scattered into hiding. Louis and Buddy boarded the
chopper to fly to a rescue base and then home. He bid the
animals goodbye and promised to visit.
He visited the animals every year and actually proved to
his brother that he could live in the wild. At school and at home
he told the stories of his adventure with the animals.
Alex Trippel 6th
191
What would a journey be like without
the final destination, the ending, the
finish line? From Around the World in 80
Days to Don Quixote, we are transported
through words to exotic lands and
stories; these are vacations for the mind
that take us on inexplicable journeys.
Alas, they must always come to an end,
and so must this year’s volume of Flight
of the Phoenix. I hope you enjoyed the
ride!
As always, I would like to thank
everyone who helped with the creation of
this book—especially Mrs. Desai, Mrs.
Teitelbaum, and the students.
Ryan Reen 6th
192

Flight of the Phoenix: Vol.3

Transcription

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