2016 Pendragon 5987.41 KB - Tampa Catholic High School

Transcription

the
Pendragon
2016
Greta Louk '19
TAMPA CATHOLIC HIGH SCHOOL
Leah Callahan ’16
2016 tampa catholic pendragon
<3
FEATURED ARTISTS
Acosta, Matthew
Belluccia, Manuel
Bowman, Cassidy
the
Brogno, Wade
Callahan, Leah
PENDRAGON
literary magazine.
Cardella, Lauren
Issue Number 28
Calero, Joey
Castillo, Ariana
Cruz, Coral
an assorted sampler of
Tampa Catholic
writing & art by many of
TC’s most dignified
and skilled practitioners
Dickinson, Jalin
As always, for your enjoyment.
Hernandez, Dana
EDITOR
Carleen Jerald
Cenal, Jared
Costanzo, Catherine
Inguanzo, A.J.
DESIGN
Michael Groff
Keyser, Jacob
COVER ILLUSTRATION
Greta Louk ’19
Landry, Olivia
Louk, Greta
Pelletier, Nick
Powell, Emily
Rivard, Austin
Scarpino, Madison
Thomas, Danielle
Walker, Unique
Warren, Tanayja
4 > tampa catholic pendragon 2016
Greta Louk ’19
Shulstad, Deven
© Tampa Catholic High School 2016
Dana Hernandez ‘18
Nick Pelletier ‘16
<5
(stock images)
HAIKUS
SUN
Unique Walker ‘16
The light of the world
Hot and yellow in the sky
Peeking through the clouds
SUNDOWN
Jared Cenal ‘16
Light begins to fade.
Cicadas begin to chirp.
The sky becomes dark.
SUNSET
Leah Callahan ‘16
Crickets on grass screech.
The ending of a great day;
Pink, blue grace the sky.
SUNSET
Danielle Thomas ‘17
Waves crashing on shore
Streaming purple and blue skies
Peacefully watching
WAVES
Olivia Landry ‘17
The water is still
On a calm winter evening.
The sky is so clear.
BEACH
Madison Scarpino ‘16
Ocean waves crashing.
Salty water and sunny
Blue sky and white sand
SNOW
Ariana Castillo ‘17
Pale, white, cold, and clear
Beautifully glistening
Quietly falling
THE FOREST
Joey Calero ‘17
Waves of green flourish.
Pools of light soak the forest.
Birds chirp in chorus.
TREES
Cassidy Bowman ‘17
The maple in trees
Flows everywhere with ease;
Smells like sticky bees.
THE MIND
Manny Belluccia ‘16
We control our minds,
Or so we’ve always been told.
This, for us to find.
CAROUSEL
Catherine Costanzo ‘16
Round and round I go,
Stuck on this dull, metal horse,
Waiting for the end.
<7
Coral Cruz ‘16
TANKAS
love
c
choice
sun
SUN
PASSION
A CHOICE
The heat of the sun
Makes me warm inside
and out.
It stares right at me,
Giving me a sense of hope.
It makes me move on
with life.
Burning sensation,
My heart feels like butterflies,
Racing through the skies;
Fireworks on fourth of July,
A tingly feeling of love.
She was the first one.
I noticed her standing there,
Over everyone.
I didn’t know what to do;
Now she’s gone with
someone new.
— Cassidy Bowman ‘17
— Austin Rivard ‘17
— Matthew Acosta ‘16
Scarlatina
H
ow can we hate each other when love is all we've got?
Our time is short; it's ticking by the second on the clock.
How can we say we're tired when our years are cut so short,
And waste more than half of them sleeping in pillow forts?
Everything is limited and temporary; nothing is here to stay.
So why waste time getting caught up in things that people say?
Permanence seems so momentary with our lives strung up by a thread,
And when we should be at peace, it’s in tattered pieces we’re torn instead.
With words as sharp as knives, one could cut a life in half,
Pushing someone over the edge, with only a joke or a mocking laugh.
So be careful what you do—be mindful of what you say,
For just that one simple word could take a loved one’s life away.
Yet people take so much for granted, skipping over all the rules,
And tease the ones who follow them, and make them look like fools.
Sometimes silence is the loudest voice; too bad it never finds its way
When we're stuck inside our own words, too self-absorbed to walk away.
— Poem by Emily Powell ‘17
<9
the
Rabbit’s Lantern
by Lauren Cardella ‘17
O
ur story begins in the woods near a town
and by a stream. Many people use
lanterns to find their way around in these
woods. But that was not the case for a
small blue rabbit. This rabbit’s name was Azure,
and she carried a lantern similar to the ones who
are lost, except that she was not lost; Azure knew
every nook and cranny of this forest.
The reason she carried the lantern then?
Her father. Well, his soul, at least, was in
the lantern.
How, you may ask, did her father end up in a
lantern? Simple—her father was gravely hurt, and
Azure was desperate.
She had made a deal with the Shadow, a dark
figure who enjoyed bringing pain to others, to put
her father’s soul in the lantern. As long as she kept
it lit, her father would live.
Crunch, Crunch, Crunch, went the sound of Azure’s
feet on the dry, dead grass as she made her way
through the dark forest toward a mill, a place she
and her father had once called home. Now, it
belonged only to her because, even though her
father’s soul was in the lantern that she carried with
her everywhere she went, it never really felt like he
was actually there.
Azure opened the door to the mill and walked
inside. Sighing, the rabbit hung her hat on the coat
rack and walked to the living room. She placed her
lantern on the table and flopped down on the
couch. Shoving her hands up to her face, Azure
rubbed her eyes. She had been up all night making
oil for the lantern and carrying it around.
I hate doing this, the young rabbit thought to
herself. I haven’t slept in so long, but if I fall asleep,
who knows how long I’ll be out. And, then, Dad’s
light might go out.
Suddenly, the door swung open and a burst of wind
came crashing in. Azure hopped off the couch and
held her paws in front of her face as she staggered
toward the lantern.
Oh, why him? Why right now? I’ve got enough
problems already without him checking up on me
for the zillionth time, Azure thought as she grabbed
the lantern to protect it from the gust.
Soon, the wind stopped. Azure looked up and saw
the Shadow before her, a dark and eerie figure. He
looked her over with his big, bright white eyes. He
took a deep breath. Azure slammed her eyes shut
in case he attacked her.
“Hey kid, how’s your dad?” came the high-pitched,
distorted voice of the Shadow.
“Ha-ha!” Azure stood up with a sarcastic laugh.
“That’s not funny, Shadow! You scared the life out
of me!” she set the lantern down.
“Now, you know I was only coming to check on
you,” replied the Shadow, swirling the small blue
bunny around.
“Like you did an hour ago?” Azure crossed
her arms.
“Just making sure your father is bright and
healthy,” Shadow stated as he stopped twirling her.
“It looks like he could use some oil,” he gestured
to the lantern. “If you don’t keep it lit, your father
will no longer exist.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Azure sighed and grabbed the
lantern. “His soul will be lost for all eternity.”
Closely followed by the Shadow, Azure made her
way over to the oiling can. Every day the Shadow
brought her new oil. Azure poured the oil into the
lantern and sighed. “I can’t keep doing this...”
“What?! Why not?” the Shadow snapped.
Azure jumped. “No! I can’t keep doing this!” she
yelled back. “I can’t keep this lantern going!
I haven’t slept in days! I can’t just keep wandering
around in the woods for the rest of my life!”
“You foolish girl!” the Shadow growled. “I am trying
to help you! Without me your father would be dead!”
He began circling her once more.
“You’re not trying to help me!” Azure accused. “If
you were, you would’ve found a way to bring my
father back. He wouldn’t want me to keep him alive
in a lantern for the rest of his life! You just have this
weird thing with wanting me to keep this lantern lit.
It’s almost as if…” Azure stopped dead,
mid-sentence. “As if your soul were in the lantern.”
Suddenly, the Shadow’s demeanor changed
completely. He got right in Azure’s face.
“Why would you think such thoughts?” he asked.
In one huge breath, Azure blew out the lantern.
The Shadow let out an agonizing scream before
bursting into nothingness. Azure sat still and silent,
trying to comprehend what had just happened.
Her father wasn’t in the lantern. The Shadow was!
Her father had never been in the lantern. The
Shadow had been using her to keep himself alive.
Her father was never in the lantern!
Azure forced herself to her feet and dragged herself
back to her house. The Shadow had used her. Her
father was probably dead. All that time she had
cared for the lantern, she had really been caring for
the Shadow.
“M-my father was never in the lantern, was he?!”
Azure gasped. “Of course! You can’t have a shadow
without light!”
She walked up to what was left of her door and
went inside the mill.
The Shadow lunged for her. “I’ll make you suffer!”
the Shadow yelled.
She crawled over to the couch; she didn’t bother to
go upstairs to her bedroom.
Azure began running. She ran out of
the house with her lantern and
slammed the door.
Azure’s eyes popped open to the sound of the
broken door opening. She shot upright and almost
screamed.
But, already, the Shadow was
pounding on it. Now that she
had figured it out, he would
kill her.
There, in the doorway, stood a tall, black rabbit,
wearing a blue coat.
Azure ran. If she got to the
village, then maybe someone
would help her.
Her big rabbit feet made a
loud thump each time they
hit the ground. Behind her,
there was a loud crash.
Oh, no! He got through the door!
Run!
Suddenly, the Shadow was
upon her; he swatted one
hand and knocked her over.
Well, at least she could finally get some sleep.
His blue coat!
“Azure!” the tall, black rabbit
gasped.
“Daddy!” Azure cried and
ran into her father’s arms.
The Shadow was gone,
blown into a million bits.
But her father was there,
only not in a lantern, and
Azure was in her father’s
arms, safe and sound.
“You
never
should’ve
questioned me!” he growled,
looming over her.
“No,” Azure grunted and grabbed for
the lantern. “You never should’ve
tricked me!”
Lauren Cardella ‘17
< 11
FABLES
The King
of the Mountains
aesop got nothin’
on these girls!
by Catherine Costanzo '16
Lord Kahru stared at the ground. The
forest was quiet. Dark clouds started to
form, and the sky released a loud roar.
He knew what he was going to do, but
it was risky. No, not just risky; it was
suicide. It could mean life or death. He
was never afraid, but this time was
different. Lord Kahru didn’t want the rest
of the animals to see his true colors for
fear of having them lose hope in him.
He was their last chance to overthrow
the king and end their oppression.
Two small foxes slunk up to the mighty
bear.
“My Lord,” a fox named Shadow said,
bowing his head in reverence. “We
have observed the king. His eyes are as
white as milk.”
“Yes,” another fox testified. “This is the
perfect opportunity to attack. We’ll never
have another chance like this.”
Lord Kahru looked up and shifted his
attention to the foxes.
“Smoke, Shadow,” Kahru rumbled.
“Thank you for your help. Sadly, it may
be the last time I’ll need it.”
“Nonsense, my Lord,” Shadow retorted.
“You are the strongest animal in the
realm. You will defeat King Berus.”
The two vulpines knew what Lord Kahru
was up against. The chance
of death was high. No other animal
had ever before survived challenging
King Berus.
“Do not tell anyone where I went. I do
not want anyone to be concerned about
me,” Lord Kahru ordered the duo. Then
he left, dragging his paws in
acceptance of his tragic fate.
Lord Kahru had discovered the king’s
lair. Entering would mean death. But
Lord Kahru had a different plan.
He tossed some rocks inside the den to
lure King Berus out. “King Berus!” Lord
Kahru shouted.
The impressive adder slithered out of
his cave, tongue flickering rapidly. King
Berus stretched his long neck to make
himself appear larger than the bear.
Although he was vulnerable, he was
alert and still capable of making out Lord
Kahru’s silhouette, despite his clouded
eyes. Ragged patches of thin, flaky white
skin dangled from his scaly body.
“Who are you, and what do you want?”
King Berus was irritated.
“I am Lord Kahru,” the bear answered.
“And I am here to overthrow you. You
have caused too much pain and
suffering.”
“Pain and suffering? How so?” the
adder demanded.
“You have ruled this land with an iron
fang. Your subjects live in terror
because you have killed so many of
them for no reason.”
“No reason?” the adder parroted,
emphasizing the s. “I was only keeping
them in check and ensuring that they
obeyed.” King Berus thrust his body
forward, fangs protruding. “Enough talk,
come and fight me.”
Lord Kahru trusted his instinct and
dodged this initial assault, but the
ensuing battle was long and
exhausting. Rain pelted both animals,
and the sky continued to roar. Lord
Kahru was bitten several times by the
adder, but he still kept fighting valiantly.
King Berus was agitated, but he also
felt a different emotion. Fear. King Berus
trembled before the bear. Why was this
Lord Kahru so resilient? His forked
tongue flashed again.
“King Berus is not afraid of anything…”
the shaken adder muttered to himself
as he tried to slither back inside his lair,
defeated.
Lord Kahru’s strike was swift and lethal.
King Berus was only able to strike the
bear one final time before his spine was
shattered by Lord Kahru’s jaws.
The storm had calmed itself into mere
sprinkles. Shadow and Smoke searched
for Lord Kahru, fearing the worst.
Lord Kahru exited the king’s den, the
corpse of the former ruthless king
dangling limply from his jaws. He was
convinced the viper was still alive,
despite his lack of movement.
The venom was beginning to work;
Lord Kahru’s breath came short and
ragged. Soreness enveloped him, and
he became incapable of moving. He
collapsed, trapped in a dream-like
trance. He struggled to keep his eyes
open. He knew what was happening to
him, but he refused to succumb. Just a
little longer. To make sure King Berus
was dead.
Smoke and Shadow found Lord Kahru’s
body, motionless yet still breathing.
“M-My Lord…” Shadow whispered,
fighting back tears.
“Stay back…” Lord Kahru warned,
using the last of his strength to move
away from the vulpines. “King Berus
will strike…”
The foxes did not know how to
respond. Lord Kahru was near death,
and there was nothing they could do to
help.
Shadow, Smoke, and all of the animals
in the forest mourned Lord Kahru.
Flowers and plants were set around his
corpse.
For generations after Lord Kahru’s
death, the animals lived in peace. Lord
Kahru’s name was never spoken
because it was considered too sacred.
He was referred to instead simply as
the “King of the Mountains.”
FABLES
The Fox
and the Penguin
aesop got nothin’
on these girls!
by Leah Callahan ’16
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< 13
Mrs. Savino Art Classes
M eaningful and powerful
U nites all people
S lices through silence
I nitiates celebration
C annot live without it
Nick
Pelletier
‘16
Ariana
Ariana
Castillo
Castillo
‘17
Cars
Fast, Nice
Driving, Speeding, Going
Chevy, Ford, Ram, GMC
F-150, Bed, Lift
Big, Loud
Trucks
Make-up
palette, brushes
blending, drawing, caking
creating your own masterpiece
Face-paint
Jaylin
Dickinson
‘16
< 15
Turkish
Star Tiles
Turkish
Star Tiles
< 17
The Evil Elf
by A.J. Inguanzo ‘18
One day, in the North Pole, Santa was sitting
in his rocking chair, eating cookies and
drinking milk. He was talking to one of his
elves, Pinky. What Santa didn’t know about
Pinky was that he was an undercover,
South Pole elf. All the elves from the South
Pole were anti- Christmas and felt nobody
in the world should get presents.
Trying not to give himself away, Pinky
said to Santa, “I can’t wait for Christmas
to come. It’s going to be perfect.”
Santa replied, “Ho, Ho, Ho, indeed it is.”
When Pinky left Santa’s house, he whispered to himself, “No
one is getting presents this year because I am going to stop
that chubby, bearded man from giving the kids their
presents.”
Ten minutes after Pinky left, Santa went to check on his
reindeer to make sure they were healthy for the sleigh ride on
Christmas Eve. He walked up to Rudolph and asked, “Will you
guide my sleigh tomorrow night?”
Rudolph replied, “Of course I will, Santa.”
While Santa was talking to Rudolph and the other reindeer,
Pinky went into Santa’s house and drugged the reindeer’s
food. He used a drug that would keep the reindeer on the
ground and wouldn’t allow them to fly the sleigh. Santa
finished talking to Rudolph and went to get the reindeers’
food. When Santa walked into the house, Pinky jumped out
the back window.
Santa walked back to the reindeers’ stables and gave each of
them their food. Santa needed to go back home and get a
good night’s rest because, the next day, he had to fly around
the world to deliver presents to all the kids on the Nice list, so
Santa went home and went to sleep.
The next morning, when Santa woke up, he went directly to
the stables.
All the reindeer were sick. Only Rudolph still had a full bowl.
“Why didn’t you eat your food?” Santa asked him.
“Because it smelled funny,” Rudolph replied.
Santa shouted to the reindeer, “We’re going for a test drive!”
All the reindeer groaned and refused to get up. Rudolph
yelled at them and told the reindeer to get up and go.
Santa strapped them all into their harnesses and said,
“Let’s go!”
They tried to fly but couldn’t get off the ground.
Pinky was watching them from the window of his room in the
elf house and laughing. Santa unstrapped the reindeer and
told them to get a good rest, for he would be back in a few
hours.
Santa came a few hours later and said, “It’s time to go.”
All the reindeer were feeling better, so they got up. Pinky was
mad that his plan to ruin Christmas had failed, so he reverted
to Plan B.
Plan B was to attack Santa right when he was about to leave
to deliver the presents.
Santa put all the harnesses on the reindeer and got his sack
of presents. He loaded it in the sleigh. With one whip of the
reigns, the reindeer took off, but before they could get high
enough, Pinky pulled Santa off the sleigh and started beating
him.
Pinky shouted, “No one is getting presents!”
While Pinky was beating Santa, from out of nowhere, Rudolph
flew by and dropkicked Pinky. Pinky was out cold. Santa tied
him up and put him in a sack. He put the sack in the sleigh,
and after they were done delivering all the presents, they
went to the South Pole and dropped Pinky off in the middle of
nowhere.
Santa could be heard by all, chortling: “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry
Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!”
Ceramic Gingerbread Cookies
< 19
Drawing Classes
< 21
Frozen in Time
Hello,
my name is Ötzi. Well, that’s not
really my name. My actual name is Ezio (pronounced
Etsyo). I know what you’re probably thinking: “You’ve
been dead for 5,000 years! How the heck are you
writing this?”
The answer is relatively simple: I’m supposed to be
dead; however, I’m fully aware of what’s going on
around me because I was frozen for such a long time
in the Ötzal Alps—hence, my name. But my soul is still
very much alive; I’m merely frozen in time. I know, it
sounds crazy, but it’s true. I wouldn’t be writing this if
it weren’t.
It was 3239 BCE; I was making the trek to the Ötzal
Alps to gather the hunting supplies I had left from the
previous season. No, I was not a victim of religious
sacrifice, battle, or freezing to death: I was killed by a
fellow huntsman. We made our trek together but got
into a disagreement that turned fatal—for me, at least.
I remember that particular day as if it were yesterday.
The air was crisp and fresh; the snow had just begun
to fall. I walked ahead, gathering my supplies—I knew
the Alps like the back of my hand—while he hung back
and grumbled about being hungry. I was in no mood
to listen to his bellyaching. I decided to eat my food
before he got to it. I opened my pack and grabbed
some elk meat and einkorn wheat bread.
Now, it may seem like a silly argument in your time,
but in mine, food was scarce, and any food you could
get your hands on was extremely important; so, since
I had food, and he had none, he got combative when
I didn’t share my food with him. It’s a funny thing to
remember now, but I distinctly remember thinking,
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to bring
food for you, too!”
So, as I was saying . . . we got into an argument
because I didn’t share my food with him. Things got
heated pretty quickly, and what started as a normal
argument, turned into a full-blown fight in no time.
Words were said, arrows were shot, and I ended up
dead—well, frozen, to be exact.
Even though I tried to sneak the food, he must have
seen me, because he crept up behind me and
stabbed me in the shoulder with his hunting arrow.
I crammed the food into my mouth, whipped around,
and with the only weapon I had in my possession—my
knife—I jabbed at him. Unfortunately, it didn’t go as
smoothly as I planned. He grabbed my hand and
forced the knife backwards, slicing my hand between
my thumb and forefinger. The pain was unbearable. I
crumpled to the ground.
With lightning reflexes, he loaded his arrow and took
a shot at my back. The arrowhead burrowed
deep—real deep.
I was in immense pain, and all I could think about
was getting relief.
I didn’t want to die; I wasn’t ready, but my fate was
inevitable. Because I had already been sick with
whipworm multiple times before this trek, I was too
weak to continue. I wasn’t going to survive this.
I clearly remember him walking up to me, pulling the
arrow from my back, and smashing me over the head
with something. I’m still not sure what it was, but
from that moment on, all I felt was agonizing pain.
Then, like the flick of a finger, the lights went
out.
Fast-forward 5,000 years, and I’m discovered.
Finally! It sure took ya’ guys long enough!
On September 19, 1991, two tourists stumbled upon
my grave. I think they were German, not sure, but
anyhow, I tried calling out to them. I was too frozen to
even lift a finger, but I could hear everything they
were saying.
“Holy moly, Erika, look what I found! Do you think he
died recently?”
“I don’t know, Helmut, he looks pretty old and
desiccated to me. He could have died a few thousand
years ago, but we’ll never know unless we do some
research.”
They left me out in the cold overnight to contact the
police, and gather some supplies: pick axes, saws,
jack hammers, etc. The next day they started digging
me out. Only it was more like hacking me out. It took
a couple of days, but before I knew it, I was being
whisked away for research. I can’t even begin to
by Leah Callahan ‘16
describe how uncomfortable it felt being worked on
so up-close-and-personal. They were constantly
pulling things from my stomach and intestines, doing
X-ray’s, and even studying my shoes and hunting
supplies. (On a side note, I can’t believe these things
survived all those years! Amazing, simply amazing!)
Anyway, it was quite an uncomfortable experience.
They were rooting around in my intestines, digging
out the food I had consumed just minutes before my
death, and studying my
tattoos.
I desperately tried
screaming at them
to stop because I
was still alive,
but I didn’t
have the
strength.
And the fact
that I’m still
frozen doesn’t
help much, either.
The research took
several years, but
they still don’t know
how I really died.
That’s exactly why I’m
writing this. I want
everyone to know how I
actually died—no
theories—the real reason.
Now I can finally rest in peace,
frozen in time.
CHANNEL
The of Mount Llullaillaco
Her breathing was labored, and she spoke with a
raspy voice. “We need to keep moving, Pisco.”
I inclined my head toward her, sweat dripping
down my face. “I know, Piwi,” I replied.
Slowly, I rose to my feet. Taking a few small steps
toward her, I put a hand on her shoulder. Her
petite features were trembling. I wished she
hadn’t had to’ve come with me. I wished Mother
and Father would’ve let her go with them. If only
there had been more time.
Piwi and I began to trudge slowly through the
rough terrain of the mountain. I was worried sick
about her. My stomach churned with anxiety
and hunger. As I gazed at her small figure, I made
note of her overly flushed cheeks. She was
exhausted, but so was I. We has been physically
exerting ourselves on this wretched mountain
for days. I was beginning to lose count of how
long we had actually been away from home.
Anxiously, I glanced over my shoulder,
scanning the mountains for our pursuers.
Faintly, in the distance, I could see the ant-like
bodies of the clan. I felt beads of sweat form on
MODERATOR’S NOTE: This year in Creative
Writing, one of the units of study was Creative
Nonfiction. For this unit students watched several
episodes of the Smithsonian Channel series
entitled “Mummies Alive.” Each episode focused
on one real-life mummy that had been found
somewhere in the world. The mummies came
from various time periods and cultures.
After watching a number of different “Mummies
Alive” videos, students chose one mummy’s
story to write about—recreating that mummy's
final moments on this earth.
The following two stories — “The Inca Maiden”
and “Frozen in Time” — were written by students
during this unit. Pictures of the actual mummies
accompany the stories. ■
my forehead. How had they gotten so close making all sorts of shapes and drawings. We sat
already? I had barely been able to make out in silence like this for a while until she coughed.
their figures only yesterday. I tore my eyes away It was no ordinary cough. It shook her entire
and caught up with Piwi.
body, making her convulse. She clawed at her
throat,
grabbing and scratching. All I could do
“They’re gaining on us; we’re losing ground. We
was
sit
by
and watch. It pained me to the highest
need to pick up the pace.”
degree to see her in such a state of weakness.
Panicked, she turned around and looked. “If we
pick up the pace any more, we’ll kill ourselves, I was ripped away from my peaceful slumber by
the unmistakable sound of screaming. I cried out
Pisco,” she whined.
“We don’t have a choice anymore. Mother and for Mother. She came bursting through the door
Father didn’t go through all that trouble just to and t hrew her arms around me, whispering
soothing words in my ear. She dragged me from my
see us give up and get captured,” I explained.
bed,
grabbed a sack resting against our front door,
She hung her head.
and hurried outside. Soon, my Father joined us
Moving faster now, we trudged along the
with Piwi and the baby. I kept interrogating her
slippery boulders and sand. I kept my eyes
with questions. What was happening? Where
focused on the top of the mountain. For the
were we going? Would we ever come back here?
remainder of the afternoon, we continued our
frenzied ascent to the top of Mount Llullaillaco, Shouting came from behind us. I turned around,
with occasional backward glances. When the sun leaning heavily against Mother’s shoulder. Groups
began to dip just below the horizon, we stopped of armed men chased the people in our village; fires
at a flat area and settled down for the night.
raged around us. People were screaming and
My stomach growled with hunger. Piwi timidly running as fast as they could away from the
looked over at me. I did my best to give her an soldiers. I tried asking Mother more questions, but
encouraging smile. She tore her eyes away from she just kept whispering meaningless words in my
ear, telling me we had to go away for a while.
mine and ran her hands through the dirt,
cont’d on p25
photo credit : Johan Reinhard
C
ompletely and utterly exhausted, I
collapsed onto the sandy ground
beneath me. Thoughts swarmed my
head as I looked up at the pinched face of
my younger sister. The red blotches that
stained her face were evidence enough that we
needed to get out of the blazing sun.
< 23
Dana Hernandez ‘18
A
rain drop
is the sound
of rat-a-tap-tap,
the sound of someone
tap dancing on your roof.
It splashes and splatters
like it doesn’t even
matter.
— Unique Walker ’16
Splash!
No, please stop.
Rain, please go away.
Splish! Patter! Pitter! BO OM!
It’s a thunderstorm, to o? Oh my,
What a nightmar e! BANG! BANG!
Drip.
Drop.
Oh, yes,
it is
Silence.
starting
Drip.
to
Raindrops.
slow Trickle.
down
— Tanayja Warren ’16
cont’d from p23: Inca Maiden
Suddenly, I was pried from my mother’s arms. A
mob of people surged over me, pushing me further
away from her. I screamed her name at the top of
my lungs. In the distance, I could hear her
frantically calling for me. But the throng was too
immense. I was forced in the direction the horde
was moving. When the crowd finally thinned out,
I managed to find Piwi, but the baby, Mother, and
Father were nowhere to be found. Helplessly alone
and terrified, I grabbed Piwi’s hand and we ran. I
was aware of the remaining soldiers following us
but made no attempt to slow my pace.
I woke with a start, choking for air. Piwi sat
beside me, tugging urgently on my arm.
“Pisco, wake up! The men are here! We have to
go!” she cried.
I bolted from the pile of blankets, frantically
packing our belongings. When I finished, I
grabbed her hand and we ran once more.
When I thought that we had run long enough, I
peered behind me. I could see the faint glow of
the fires the men had set up not too far away.
“We can walk from here,” I panted.
I collapsed to the ground on my hands and
knees. My stomach rumbled and cramped up
with hunger pangs.
“I’m hungry,” Piwi complained.
I paused and looked up at the top of Mount
Llullaillaco. I pointed to a ledge near the
summit.
“We can eat when we reach that spot,”
I muttered.
She opened her mouth to object, but I glared at
her as a warning. I wiped beads of sweat off my
face and grabbed a handful of the coca leaves in
my sack. I handed some to her.
“For now, we can use these to keep our stamina
up,” I explained.
I stuffed the leaves into the pockets of my
cheeks. Piwi did the same, biting down to keep
the leaves in place. We moved forward.
Soon we reached the ledge, which hid a small
nook beneath it. I sat in the shade of the
overhang and sorted through our belongings. I
pulled out the last of the freeze-dried llama
jerky and divided it between us. It wasn’t much,
but it was enough to satisfy our growling
stomachs, at least for a little while. When the
meat was gone, we stuffed more coca leaves into
our mouths and continued walking at an
agonizing pace.
In a short time we reached the top of the
volcano. Piwi looked at me with joyful eyes,
and, for a moment, I almost forgot myself and
smiled at our accomplishment. But then I
remembered that the soldiers were right on our
tails.
Suddenly, a nauseating feeling overtook me. I
turned to the side just in time, right before I was
violently ill. I slumped against a rock
out-cropping, utterly defeated. Piwi started
shaking my shoulders and shouting things at
me, but her voice was muffled.
“Hush,” I told her hoarsely. “I just need to rest
for a minute.” I couldn’t even hear my own
voice; it was barely above a whisper.
I saw her worried expression and anxious
features. I heard the shouts and footfalls of the
pursuing soldiers ringing off the rocks. They
were quickly closing the distance between us.
“Keep going; I’ll find you. Don’t get captured. I
love you…” I croaked.
I saw tears flood her eyes as she realized she had
no other choice but to flee.
As she disappeared into the horizon, a strangled
sob escaped my lips.
I weakly wrapped my patterned blanket about
myself and closed my eyes.
I allowed the comforting darkness to
overwhelm me.
I said goodbye to this wretched life.
< 25
You and Me
Love is a strong word,
That’s why I only use it with you.
I love it when you smile at
me. When you smile at me,
My heart stops.
There aren’t many things that I truly love,
But you are one of them.
When I happen to catch your eyes,
I get shocked.
And when our skin touches,
I go numb.
I love the way your hair looks when you straighten it.
I love the way that you walk.
And I love the way that you talk.
I have never been in love with anyone before.
It’s a new thing for me.
But I know love when I see it.
I love it when you say my name.
When you say my name,
My heart skips a beat.
This is love.
— Wade Brogno '19
I Remember
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,&!-+$,-,&,-+*,+(,&-$+%-)-)$)#-*,'+' -$+%-)%*#"+,#!-,&,+-"%+-#$,-!*"-&,,,&-)-%(*(,'-,-$&%+-+*"(, -()' %-)%-,#,+&$$, -!-!*"&-,)"+!#*'-))!-!-!*"&-,&%*')#$+!(,'-!*"-$&%+-+*# -,-!*"-#*, -,---*"# '+-&,)+(,-)%-%*-()!-+()+-- $ '+-'*-(*-+*-)'%,&-!-(*#,
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,&!- )!-(,'--+($'-*-+()+-*,'+-+($'-+*-!%,#*-$'-+(,-*&# - $ --,+-%*-#"!(,-$&#-*-!- &,)%-+,##$'-,-%(,-#*,%-,-*+($'
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-(),-',,&-,,'-()$,&-+()'-$+(-!*"
(,'--+($'-*-!*"--#"%(
(,'--%,,-!*"--%+)&,(,'--+)#-+*-!*"--()',-*#*&%
' -(,'--+($'-*-+(,-*,'+%-,-(),-%()&, -&!-+,)&%-*-*!
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— Wade Brogno '19
You
You Are
Your eyes.
They sparkle in the moonlight
and shimmer like the heavens.
Your hair looks like a gorgeous river.
It flows at the touch and shines at the break of dawn.
You smell like a beautiful rose and send shock waves to everyone
who comes around.
You think you’re small;
I think you’re beautiful.
You make yourself small
When you are so much greater.
You think you deserve less,
But you deserve so much more.
You think you’re not enough
When we both know that
You are more than enough.
We accept the love
We think we deserve.
And you deserve so much more.
Because you are so much more.
He doesn’t realize that.
Look at yourself.
Look deep.
If you don’t see
Worth,
Value,
Beauty,
Then you’re crazy,
Because it’s standing right in front of you.
You are everything.
You’re not small;
You’re beautiful.
You deserve someone good,
Someone who can see the real you,
Someone who recognizes how lucky they are,
Someone in it for the long run,
Someone who is a man of honor.
Now, ask yourself.
Is he that man?
And who are you?
I’ll tell you.
You are amazing.
Funny,
Smart,
Sweet,
Kind,
And, yes, beautiful.
You are the greatest.
There is no better.
Does he see that?
Does he see the beauty in you?
You deserve better.
You know that.
What did he do to deserve you?
You deserve someone who loves you for you,
Someone you can trust,
Someone greater than life itself
Because you are.
You deserve so much more.
And so much more is out there.
Just Look.
When God said,
“Let there be light,”
He was talking about you.
When you walk in, the room lights up.
When I see your face,
My universe dances with your sun.
You make my days shine so bright.
With every text, I’m electrified.
With every touch, I’m paralyzed.
When I see your face,
I think to myself,
“Where have you been all my life?”
Just so you know,
Whenever you need a friend,
I’ll be there.
When the rain starts to fall,
I’ll be there.
When times get tough,
And you can’t say much,
I’ll be there.
When you are feeling down,
And you need a loved one,
I’ll be there.
When it looks like the last time
We’ll see each other,
I’ll be there.
When I’m thousands of miles away,
I’ll still be there.
And,
When it’s too hard to say anything,
Say nothing.
Just look me in the eyes.
And I will know.
— Wade Brogno '19
“You don’t write poetry.
Poetry writes you.”
— Wade Brogno '19
— Wade Brogno '19
< 27
k
a
o
l
C
r
e
v
l
The Si
T
he cool autumn air whistles through the thin
cloak draped over my shoulders, sending a
by
shiver down my spine. My stomach grumbles,
Greta
demanding that I feed it for the first time in two
Louk '19
days. I ignore it, concentrating on the sound of my feet
crunching the fallen leaves, or the fact that once I reach the
castle, I might catch a glimpse of Princess Arianna, or
maybe even the King. Think about anything but the bread
and cheese in my sack, I tell myself. Which is, of course, a sure way of thinking
about it. But it’s best to hold out for as long as possible. I’ll eat tonight when I stop
to rest. Then, when I arrive at the castle tomorrow, I’ll work as a maid who will
have plenty to eat.
Far up ahead, I see a dark shape on the side of the pathway. As I get closer to it, I
realize it’s an old woman hunched over from either the cold or starvation, or
possibly both. Her black, raggedy clothes, and the empty bowl set in front of her
for money, tell me she’s a beggar, but she asks for nothing. My own stomach
growls again, and I think of the stale bread and cheese in my sack. Anyone can
see that that the old woman is more desperate for food than I am. Beneath her
shabby shawl, her bony shoulders stick out. Her face is thin and gaunt; her large
eyes look dazed for lack of food. Yes, she needs it much more than me. I stop
walking and rummage through my sack for the food. I hand it to her. Her
wrinkled, trembling hand reaches out to grasp it. She is so thin, her elbow joint
bulges like a knot in a rope. I feel a twinge of satisfaction for my good deed.
“Thank you, child,” the old woman says in a wobbling voice. “In return for your
generous gift, take this cloak.”
From her sack, she pulls a silky silver cloak that glistens in the sunlight. A
swirling pattern is embroidered on the edges in blue. It’s beautiful, and would
keep me much warmer than the one I’m wearing, but I’m suspicious.
“Where did you get this?” I ask. “It looks like it should belong to royalty.”
The old woman peers from side to side as if she thinks someone is listening. “It’s
fairy-made. If your heart is good, it will make you invisible when the hood is over
your head.”
I’m not sure how good my heart is, but I put the cloak on and pull the hood over
my head. To my disappointment, I can still see myself.
“It didn’t work,” I say.
The old woman chuckles. “Go look at yourself in the river.”
I step to the river and peer into the crystal water. Where my reflection should be,
only mossy stones crouch beneath the clear surface. I walk back to where the
woman was sitting to thank her, but she’s gone.
When I arrive in the village that surrounds the castle the next day, I stop at a stall
in the market and ask a short, chubby man for directions to the castle. He doesn’t
look at me; he just grunts and points to the road I need to take. I follow the
winding cobblestone path, stopping periodically to ask directions. By the time I
arrive at the castle, I’m completely and utterly exhausted. I show the guards at
the gate the letter from my uncle that includes my identification papers. They
quickly inspect it, and the iron gates open with a loud screech.
My uncle had told me to find Hilda, the cook. Once I find her, he had said, show
her the letters, and she’ll give me a job. So, I ask a maid where to find her, and she
directs me downstairs to the kitchen.
Hilda is a large, round woman who talks in a loud voice. She’s barking orders at
servants passing by when she catches sight of me. Immediately, her face turns
down in a scowl.
“If you’re another one of them beggars, you best be gone before I give you a good
beating,” she says.
I glance at my peasant garb. Although they have some rips and tears in them from
the long journey here, they aren’t quite as bad as beggar’s clothes. But combined
with my untamed hair, which sticks out in all directions like a lion’s mane, I must
look something like a beggar.
“I’m not a beggar,” I say, my face hot. “I’ve come looking for work.”
Before she can say anything, I hand her my uncle’s letters. As she reads, the
scowl on her face softens, and she begins to look a bit friendlier.
“Your uncle is my cousin,” she says. “Go rest in the back room. You’ll start
work tomorrow.”
I go to where she points, lie on the little cot, and fall into a deep slumber.
The next morning, I wake to Hilda standing over me banging a wooden spoon
against a pot.
“Up and at ‘em! Rise and shine! Early bird gets the worm!” she shouts over the
clanging of the pot. When I don’t immediately rise from my bed, her voice gets
even louder. “Come on, lazy bones! Don’t make me regret giving you this job.”
As tired as I am, I know she has a point. I roll out of bed, put on my worn leather
shoes, and start towards the door. Hilda steps in front of me.
“You can’t work in the castle looking like that. Put on the clothes I’ve laid
out for you.”
I look to where she’s pointing and get dressed once she’s gone. I emerge from my
little room looking like a different person from the one I was last night. Instead
of my dull, brown peasant clothes, I now wear the more colorful clothes of a
castle servant. My thick auburn hair has been brushed and braided, and my face
is clean of dirt and grime. I enter the kitchen timidly and sit at a large, wooden
table with some of the other servants. The boy to my left hands me a freshly
baked roll, and, even though I gobble it quickly, I’m still the last one finished
because I was the last to begin. Then, I walk over to Hilda to receive my
instructions for the day’s chores.
“You didn’t tell me your name last night,” she says.
“My name is Zoë,” I reply.
“Well, Zoë, today you’re going to prepare the guest room in the East Wing for a
knight from a neighboring kingdom. That means wash the floors, change the
sheets, dust the shelves, and, if Sir William needs help unpacking, do it for him.
Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say and head off to the East Wing with my cleaning supplies.
When I get to the room I’m supposed to be preparing, I see a tall, dark-haired
woman with angular features and green eyes standing outside the door talking to
a middle-aged man with sandy blonde hair and a
hooked nose that almost touches the skin above his
lip. Even without the woman’s fine, satin dress and
jeweled necklaces, I would know she is the Princess
Arianna because of her perfectly erect posture. She
holds her chin high and peers down her regal nose
at the man.
Despite all my daydreams about meeting her, this is
the first time I’ve actually been near a member of
the nobility, so I’m not sure what to do or say. I just
curtsy clumsily and walk through the door with my
head bowed, trying to ignore the disapproving look
the man throws my way. I clean the room as fast as
I can, not wanting to disappoint on my first day, but
just as I am finishing, the sandy-haired man walks
through the door, glares at me, and frowns.
“What are you doing in here?” he asks, his thick
eyebrows creased over narrowed eyes. His voice is
higher pitched than the average man’s and rather
unpleasant. It grates out of him as if it pains him to
pronounce each syllable.
“Forgive me, my Lord,” I say, assuming that this
man must be Sir William. “I was just cleaning your
room, so you’ll have a decent place to stay.”
His scowl deepens and he orders, “Get out.”
I obey quickly, not wanting to anger him any more
than I already have. I think that he must not be a
very good knight because knights are kind and
chivalrous. Maybe it’s different where he’s from.
Then a strange thought pushes its way into my
mind. What if he’s not a knight at all? It’s so
ridiculous that I push the thought away, but it
creeps back in, nagging at me. He had no armor
when he arrived. I heard a maid say that this
morning.
As silly as it may seem, I decide to keep an eye on
this Sir William. My watchfulness is rewarded that
night when I see him stealing away towards the
woods. I put on my silver cloak, pull the hood low
over my head, and follow him. I know that even
though I’m invisible, he will still be able to hear me
should I make a sound, so I watch my step, being
careful to avoid dry twigs.
There is no moon out tonight; my only source of
light is Sir William’s torch. After about twenty
minutes of walking, we arrive at a clearing in the
forest. A tall, thin, hooded figure waits for him. No
matter how hard I try, it is impossible to make out
the person’s face. The figure is too tall to be a
woman, yet too thin to be a man.
Rather than puzzling over the figure’s identity,
though, I listen to the conversation but am unable
to make out parts of it.
Sir William: “Do you have it?”
The hooded figure hands a large bottle of red liquid
to Sir William. On it is a seal imprinted with a
dragon.
He tilts his head a little, considering. Then he walks
over to his cart and grabs a bottle, thrusting it
towards me triumphantly.
Hooded Figure: “Of course I have it; here it is. Make
sure…”
Sir William: “I will. When do you want it done?”
“I have this!” He says proudly, displaying a small
bottle of clear, blue liquid with little bubbles in it. “It
instantly heals anything and anybody.”
Hooded Figure: “Tomorrow, after the . . .”
“How much?” I ask warily.
Sir William: “Yes, my Lady.”
He rushes to assure me that his prices are always
cheap and reasonable. “It’s only two gold pieces for
the whole bottle of antidote,” he says, smiling his
rotten tooth smile again.
Something is definitely amiss. I must be extra
vigilant tomorrow. At least now I know the hooded
figure is a woman—and a noble woman, no less. I
rack my brain for who it could be, but the only
woman I can think of is the Princess Arianna. I
know it can’t be her, though. All anyone in my
village ever said about her is how good she is and
how much she loves her father, King Casper.
Besides, she’s a princess. Tomorrow, I’ll ask the
servants some questions about them.
But when the sun peeks over the horizon the next
day, there’s no opportunity for asking questions
because I’m hustled out the back door to the village
to buy some fruits and vegetables. I purchase the
fruit from an elderly woman who’s hunched over
and using an old wooden cane to support herself.
The carrots come from a farmer whose wrinkled
skin is extremely tan from hours of hard labor in the
sun. His light blue eyes cling to me as if he thinks
I’m going to steal something.
I’m about to head back to the castle when I see a cart
full of bottles with the same dragon seal that I saw
on Sir William’s bottle last night. I notice that all the
bottles in the cart are much smaller than the one I
saw last night. I walk over to the cart and pretend to
be interested in purchasing one, even though I have
no idea what these things are. Finally, I say casually
to the man selling them, “Do you sell any in larger
portions than this?”
He frowns. “What would you need more than this
for, lassie?”
“I was just wondering,” I say, dodging the question.
“How’s business?” I ask.
At this, he breaks into a wide smile. Some of his
teeth are rotten, some aren’t there at all, and the
teeth he does have are filthy.
“Oh, it’s just wonderful! Yesterday I sold enough
sleeping potion for a hundred people. And all to the
same person!”
My stomach does a flip-flop. “Who did you sell it
to?” I press.
The man shakes his head. “She told me don’t tell.
Not even a lowly servant.”
I ask a different question instead. “Is there any
antidote for that potion here?”
It’s a complete rip off, but I don’t have time to
negotiate. I spend the rest of my money on the
bottle, and as I’m leaving, the man calls out,
“Remember, lassie! There’s only enough antidote
for one person.”
I hustle back to the castle, going through the same
back door from which I left. To my surprise and
bewilderment, the kitchen that’s normally full of
loud voices and clanging pots is dead silent. Not
even Hilda is talking. When I walk into the kitchen,
I see why. Hilda is lying on the ground with her
mouth hanging open and drool dribbling down her
cheek. Her snoring sounds remarkably similar to
the snorting of my uncle’s pig. It would be funny
except that everyone is asleep.
I run to my room, grab my invisible cloak, and
search the castle. The halls are littered with sleeping
maids, knights, and other people. I turn to walk
down a long corridor and I see her. The mysterious
hooded figure is standing with her back to me. My
heart hammers so hard against my chest that it’s a
miracle she doesn’t hear it. I creep up behind her
and yank the hood off her head. She turns, looking
for me, but doesn’t see me. I see her, however.
Surprise and shock take my breath away. The
mysterious, cloaked villain is none other than my
childhood heroine, Princess Arianna.
She draws her sword from its jeweled sheath and
swipes it through the air. I try to jump back but I’m
too slow. The sword slashes a long, deep cut on the
side of my ribcage. It burns like fire and I crumple to
the ground, my hood falling off my head. I’m
vaguely aware that I’m no longer invisible, but I’m
too dizzy from the pain to think straight. A dark,
blurry shape stands above me, and I suddenly
remember where I am and what happened. I
squeeze my eyes tightly shut. When I open them, I
have a clearer image of the world around me;
Princess Arianna stands above me with a smug
smile on her face.
“You’re just a lowly maid, and you thought you
could foil my plan?” she asks incredulously.
“There’s nothing you could have done to stop me
because I bought all the antidote from that fool at
< 29
the market, which means no one will awaken to save
you. How ironic that you’ll die just paces from the
spot where your last hope is hidden.”
She turns on her heel and walks away, leaving me to
die. A pool of blood covers the ground beneath me.
Just when I’m beginning to accept my fate, I
remember the antidote resting in my pocket. With
great effort that costs me a lot of pain, and at least a
cup of blood, I fish it out. With trembling fingers, I
unscrew the cap and dump the contents into my
mouth. I swallow it with difficulty, trying not to gag.
It tastes disgusting, but it’s better than bleeding to
death. It takes only about five seconds before I feel a
cold tingling in the wound. Within thirty seconds, I
feel as good as new. Better even. I look at my side
where the wound was. No evidence of the slash
remains. Even the tear in my dress and the blood are
gone. I pull the hood of my cloak back over my head
and look around. Did she really just tell me where
the antidote is? If I were going to hide something,
where would I put it? My chambers.
The princess’s chambers are directly behind me. I
turn and walk over to them, looking behind a colorful
tapestry on the wall, just in case. I put my ear to the
door and listen to make sure nobody’s in there. When
there’s no sound, I push the heavy, wooden door
open. The princess’s chambers are spacious and
elegant. Her bed is enormous. The blankets on it are
made of the softest material I’ve ever felt. I try to
think where she might have hidden the antidote. I
look under the bed and in it, in and under her dresser,
and through her clothes. It’s nowhere to be found.
Finally, I give up. I walk towards the door to search
some other rooms. When I’m halfway to it, a stone in
the floor shifts beneath my feet. I stop to inspect it.
Bending down and sticking my fingers in the crack, I
manage to pull up the stone. To my delight, I find a
secret compartment that holds a jug of the antidote. I
pick the jug up and hold it under my clock so that it
is invisible along with me. Then I search the halls,
looking for knights to wake up.
The first knight I find is Sir Roland. He’s slumped
against the wall with his head tilted to the side. His
hand limply holds his sword. I drip some of the
antidote into his mouth, causing his eyes to fly open
with a start. He studies me with deep, blue eyes. “I
dreamt that an invisible girl would lead me into a
battle that would save the life of my king,” he says.
“That girl was you.”
Unsure what to say to that, I explain to him our dire
situation. When I tell him about the princess’s
treachery, his jaw drops in shock.
“She has truly turned against her own father and
betrayed us all?” he asks.
“She has,” I say, the truth tasting bitter on my tongue.
He gives a deep sigh. “We must wake the rest of the
knights and King Casper,” says Sir Roland.
“King Casper wants to see you,” says one.
We sneak around the castle’s corridors waking
knights until we have a group of twelve. One of them
tries to send me away, but I refuse.
“I don’t know,” he replies, “probably to thank you.”
“I want to help,” I say.
Seeing that he won’t be able to get rid of me so easily,
he hands me a dagger to defend myself. Its handle
and scabbard are decorated with a beautifully ornate
pattern. I thank him, hoping I won’t have to use it,
and we start towards the king’s chambers. When the
door to the chambers is opened, I spy the king
sleeping with his head on his desk. Sir William is
walking towards him with his longsword in his hand.
“Stop, traitor!” shouts Sir Roland, drawing his
own sword.
Sir William runs at him, and the two of them are
caught in a sword fight. As the sound of metal
clanging against metal fills the room, I rush over to
the king. Sir Lionel, the knight who gave me the
dagger, follows. He lifts King Casper’s head off the
desk, and I pour some antidote into his mouth. His
brown eyes fly open. Upon seeing Sir William and
Sir Roland fighting, he looks very confused. Sir
Lionel explains all that has happened.
Suddenly, the sounds of the swords stop. I turn to
see that Sir Roland has been disarmed. Sir William is
pointing the sword at his throat, ready to kill him. I
pull the hood over my head and draw my dagger.
Just as Sir William is about to behead Sir Roland, I
plunge my dagger into his chest and pull it out,
dripping red. He grunts like a wild animal and falls
to the ground, his back against the wall. Sir Roland
picks up his sword. I take off my hood.
“Why?” I ask.
I follow them to the throne room, wondering what’s
in store for me. When we arrive, there are two
guards standing on either side of the massive doors.
The doors open for us with a loud creak, and then
we’re standing in the largest and most beautiful
room I’ve ever seen. Marble pillars hold up the
ceiling. Beautiful paintings decorate the walls. When
I look to my left, I see portraits of the royal family. A
younger King Casper stands next to his deceased
queen who holds their infant daughter. The queen
looks remarkably like her daughter does now, with
her ebony hair, green eyes, angular features, and
slender form, but her expression is much kinder. I
turn my attention to the king. He sits on his throne
with his golden crown atop his head. He looks much
more magnificent and kingly than he did sleeping on
his desk.
“Princess Arianna, heir to the throne of Aether, you
are charged with high treason,” he says. “You
attempted to overthrow the current leadership,
murder citizens, and have your king and father
assassinated by an imposter. I hereby declare you
banished to the dry desert land of Baratrum.”
The princess glares. “You’re a stupid old man,” she
says. “If you banish me, who will be your heir?”
The king nods. “You’re right,” he says. “I do, indeed,
need an heir. So, I’ve decided to teach Zoë here all
she needs to know about being queen. I proclaim
her to be princess of the land, and when I pass on,
the new queen.”
“Where’s the princess?” I ask. Sir William doesn’t
respond. I say it again, this time louder, “Where
is she?”
The princess looks as shocked as I feel. “She’s just a
peasant girl!” she exclaims. “She will never be as
great a queen as I would be.”
I’m about to ask him a third time, when I notice that
his eyes have glazed over and his chest is no longer
rising and falling. He’s dead. I feel a hand on my
shoulder. It’s Sir Roland.
“Power should never be given to those who want it,”
King Casper says. “You’re dismissed.”
“You saved my life,” he says. “Thank you.”
I smile shakily. “You’re welcome,” I say.
While the king sends his knights out to find his
daughter, I work on waking everyone up. It’s a tedious
task, explaining what happened over and over again.
For a while, I forget about the knights searching for the
princess. When the sun has just begun to set, I see a
bunch of knights leading a handcuffed princess
through the halls. When she sees me, a look of
recognition passes over her face, followed by shock
and bewilderment. No doubt she thought she’d seen
the last of me. When she catches my eye, her surprise
turns to pure loathing. The knights see me, too.
The guards escort Princess Arianna out as she
screams vile things at me and her father. When the
doors close on her, I turn to the king.
“Your Highness,” I say, “I don’t think I would be a
very good queen.”
“Nonsense,” he says. “You’ve shown yourself to be
an honorable person who keeps a level head in times
of peril. What more could I ask for in my
successor?”
I smile and thank him, bowing before the guards
escort me to my new quarters.
About a week later, I am kneeling before the king,
looking up at him as he says, “I crown you Zoë the
Brave, Princess of Aether, and heir to the throne!”
2016 Pendragon
Read online!
Crusaders
A tradition of Faith, Excellence & Family
Tampa Catholic High School
4630 N. Rome Avenue • Tampa, Florida 33603 • 813-870-0860 • www.tampacatholic.org

2016 Pendragon 5987.41 KB - Tampa Catholic High School

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