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“Truth is so hard to tell, it sometimes needs fiction to make it plausible.”
-Francis Bacon |
2020-2021
Taylor Malone
Waking Up As Frankenstein’s Monster
The sudden jolt woke me from my supposed forever slumber. My mind was blank, all of my memories, gone. The cold metal of the floor shocks me as I try to stand. Instead of a gentle greeting from my creator, I am met with a blood curdling shriek. Fear flowing through my viens freely as I try to speak. Only, I can’t. It comes out as a strange growl. I watch as my creator, Frankenstein, runs away. The sight made me angrier than I have ever been before. I make my way through the small apartment, trying desperately to find a way out of this hell hole. My hears perk as I hear the sound of the door shut frantically. Following the sound, I find my way out.
Although, I do faintly remember when I walked the streets of this town. But since I am built with different body parts, the memory stays unfinished. Only then, we had sensible people who never messed with something as great as death. Cold November winds had been my least favorite. Rain pouring down the roofs of the town’s buildings. But the town stayed silent. In the distance, I swore I could hear my creator talking, and after a few minutes, he left. I could only dream what he was talking about, but something told me not to worry with it.
The walk to the cemetery was long and difficult, especially when my stitches had torn with the juices of resurged blood oozed out of my leg. In fact, it smelled so horrible, it would put the smell of a dead rat to shame. But nonetheless, I continued on. The hill up to the center of the land of death was fairly steep. And at the edge of said cemetery, sat a windmill. My dead but resurged heart told me to go to it. Not like I had any choice since my revolting body took me onward. The eerie ambiance would shake the bravest man to his core.
The door of my supposed safe haven was opened with an easy jolt. Howbeit, the aura that surrounded me was still...off. Filled with sudden curiosity, I looked out the great window that oversaw most of the town. I swear my eyes deceived me! I could feel my face flush from the demised green I held, to a almost revolting chicken-livered tinge. The glow of inferno filled the sudden darkness of the night. Angry townfolk could be heard from the tallest mountain of the world. The hours of my sudden and unwanted reanimation were numbered. The sounds of them only grew louder and louder. Before I could have a thought, men had already smashed their way through any entrance of my haven. Glass from the broken window stabbing a few of the men, even myself. I met a sudden flash of pain in my upper back, a pain that stuck for awhile. The gush of lifeless, damp skin combined with a rip of stitches and oozing filled my ears. My distaste led me to let out a large gasp. My balance had been lost as the men forced me down. I could see the face of my creator, leading them to the town square.
After the pain subdued, I was awoken with a similar impact like the one when I first came to. The realization had hit me when I saw I was tied up on a stake, much like a witch. Ropes cutting off circulation and making it harder to move. The midday, November sun beating down on my face. Townspeople gathered. Yelling, spitting, and coughing fits filled the air. But all things become silent when a man made his presence known on the podium in front of me.
“Last night, a revolting thing got out of Victor Frankenstein’s clutch. Dreadful feeling, I can only imagine. But in order to rid the world of such creatures, we will do our best. Aspar, the torch please.” The crowd watched him closely.
He lifted the torch as he explained, “the world is meant to be pruified of these things. Dead is indeed better when it is pointed towards rebirth. Oh heavens, the smell is God-awful! But we do what we must do.”
And with that, the crowd cheered.
As the smoke filled my lungs, my vision became blurry. In fact, all of my senses weakened. I looked up to the skies only to smile, as drool dripped down my chin. The screams and jeers continued. My flesh was soon becoming crisp and stiff. And with that, my final, hot breath left my lips.
Waking Up As Frankenstein’s Monster
The sudden jolt woke me from my supposed forever slumber. My mind was blank, all of my memories, gone. The cold metal of the floor shocks me as I try to stand. Instead of a gentle greeting from my creator, I am met with a blood curdling shriek. Fear flowing through my viens freely as I try to speak. Only, I can’t. It comes out as a strange growl. I watch as my creator, Frankenstein, runs away. The sight made me angrier than I have ever been before. I make my way through the small apartment, trying desperately to find a way out of this hell hole. My hears perk as I hear the sound of the door shut frantically. Following the sound, I find my way out.
Although, I do faintly remember when I walked the streets of this town. But since I am built with different body parts, the memory stays unfinished. Only then, we had sensible people who never messed with something as great as death. Cold November winds had been my least favorite. Rain pouring down the roofs of the town’s buildings. But the town stayed silent. In the distance, I swore I could hear my creator talking, and after a few minutes, he left. I could only dream what he was talking about, but something told me not to worry with it.
The walk to the cemetery was long and difficult, especially when my stitches had torn with the juices of resurged blood oozed out of my leg. In fact, it smelled so horrible, it would put the smell of a dead rat to shame. But nonetheless, I continued on. The hill up to the center of the land of death was fairly steep. And at the edge of said cemetery, sat a windmill. My dead but resurged heart told me to go to it. Not like I had any choice since my revolting body took me onward. The eerie ambiance would shake the bravest man to his core.
The door of my supposed safe haven was opened with an easy jolt. Howbeit, the aura that surrounded me was still...off. Filled with sudden curiosity, I looked out the great window that oversaw most of the town. I swear my eyes deceived me! I could feel my face flush from the demised green I held, to a almost revolting chicken-livered tinge. The glow of inferno filled the sudden darkness of the night. Angry townfolk could be heard from the tallest mountain of the world. The hours of my sudden and unwanted reanimation were numbered. The sounds of them only grew louder and louder. Before I could have a thought, men had already smashed their way through any entrance of my haven. Glass from the broken window stabbing a few of the men, even myself. I met a sudden flash of pain in my upper back, a pain that stuck for awhile. The gush of lifeless, damp skin combined with a rip of stitches and oozing filled my ears. My distaste led me to let out a large gasp. My balance had been lost as the men forced me down. I could see the face of my creator, leading them to the town square.
After the pain subdued, I was awoken with a similar impact like the one when I first came to. The realization had hit me when I saw I was tied up on a stake, much like a witch. Ropes cutting off circulation and making it harder to move. The midday, November sun beating down on my face. Townspeople gathered. Yelling, spitting, and coughing fits filled the air. But all things become silent when a man made his presence known on the podium in front of me.
“Last night, a revolting thing got out of Victor Frankenstein’s clutch. Dreadful feeling, I can only imagine. But in order to rid the world of such creatures, we will do our best. Aspar, the torch please.” The crowd watched him closely.
He lifted the torch as he explained, “the world is meant to be pruified of these things. Dead is indeed better when it is pointed towards rebirth. Oh heavens, the smell is God-awful! But we do what we must do.”
And with that, the crowd cheered.
As the smoke filled my lungs, my vision became blurry. In fact, all of my senses weakened. I looked up to the skies only to smile, as drool dripped down my chin. The screams and jeers continued. My flesh was soon becoming crisp and stiff. And with that, my final, hot breath left my lips.
Allison Williams
School Books
Allison walked into the bookstore. She couldn’t wait to reach her favorite section. It was the one with all of the mystery novels. Without paying attention to anything else, she made a beeline for the mysteries. When she arrived, she noticed that there was only one book available. It was grey and thick, and it was titled, “School”. She pulled a copy off of the shelf. Surely it’s good. I mean, it’s the only one available. It must be popular. She checked out and went home. She was eager to begin this book. When she opened it, she noticed that the book began with simple words in large print. Understanding that this must pertain to the rest of the book, she kept on reading. The words began to become more and more complex. Some parts of the book were riveting and fun, but other pages were just left blank. As she reached the later chapters, she began to have a harder time comprehending the pages in front of her. She knew the print was there, she could faintly see it, could feel the indentations. The crème colored print on crisp white pages was hard to see. She tried her very best to read the print. As she was doing so she realized that these chapters were spoilers for the next book. The book encouraged her to read them, as doing so would save her time and money. Reading these parts now would cause Allison to not have to buy the next book, so she decided to read them. As she neared the end, she began to feel bittersweet. She could only remember the fun parts of the book. She wanted to slow down her reading, but she could not. The book came to an end almost as quickly as it had begun. In the moment, it felt like the book was taking forever to read, but in the end, it felt like she had finished it in the blink of an eye. It was a blur around her, and she realized that she was not ready for the next book. She realized that this book was meant to mimic school. In the moment, school seems stressful and boring, but the closer you get to finishing, the more you realize that you wish there was more left. Allison went to school the next day with a renewed spirit. She was excited to be in school. She would be present in the moment, so as to cultivate good memories and prepare herself for the next big chapter of her life. She was grateful for school.
School Books
Allison walked into the bookstore. She couldn’t wait to reach her favorite section. It was the one with all of the mystery novels. Without paying attention to anything else, she made a beeline for the mysteries. When she arrived, she noticed that there was only one book available. It was grey and thick, and it was titled, “School”. She pulled a copy off of the shelf. Surely it’s good. I mean, it’s the only one available. It must be popular. She checked out and went home. She was eager to begin this book. When she opened it, she noticed that the book began with simple words in large print. Understanding that this must pertain to the rest of the book, she kept on reading. The words began to become more and more complex. Some parts of the book were riveting and fun, but other pages were just left blank. As she reached the later chapters, she began to have a harder time comprehending the pages in front of her. She knew the print was there, she could faintly see it, could feel the indentations. The crème colored print on crisp white pages was hard to see. She tried her very best to read the print. As she was doing so she realized that these chapters were spoilers for the next book. The book encouraged her to read them, as doing so would save her time and money. Reading these parts now would cause Allison to not have to buy the next book, so she decided to read them. As she neared the end, she began to feel bittersweet. She could only remember the fun parts of the book. She wanted to slow down her reading, but she could not. The book came to an end almost as quickly as it had begun. In the moment, it felt like the book was taking forever to read, but in the end, it felt like she had finished it in the blink of an eye. It was a blur around her, and she realized that she was not ready for the next book. She realized that this book was meant to mimic school. In the moment, school seems stressful and boring, but the closer you get to finishing, the more you realize that you wish there was more left. Allison went to school the next day with a renewed spirit. She was excited to be in school. She would be present in the moment, so as to cultivate good memories and prepare herself for the next big chapter of her life. She was grateful for school.
Lola Shields
4 September 2020
The Art of Remembering
Silence.
Eternal, deafening silence.
It shouts, thrashes, screams . . . but not a whisper is heard.
I lay on my stomach, the earth warm beneath my body, the sound of my own heart drumming in my ear. It’s quiet in the mountains, the kind of quiet my old self might have found peaceful before the war. But she’s not here anymore. I’ve lost her.
A night raid in the green forested hills of Vietnam. It used to be my favorite . . .
No.
Stop.
It is my favorite, or rather it’s supposed to be.
The earth is warm, my vision dark. I can hear my own breathing amongst the slow inhales and exhales of the soldiers next to me. Soldiers. Am I really one of them? I don’t belong here . . .
Stop it. I mean it.
You do belong here. Would you rather be stuck there, playing house? With him?
House. Home. Him. My breathing stands out amongst the greenies. It’s dead silent, but my breaths are desperate and raspy. They are loud. I can feel eyes turning towards my own, silently screaming at my own lack of quiet. The eyes remind me of my parents, of Mark. To think of all I’ve given up, all I’ve left behind . . .
Don’t go there. You CAN’T go there.
My only weakness is once I’ve started, I can’t stop. So I do go there. The world turns upside down. The mountainous landscape blurs, and I’m blinded by the feelings I wish I could suppress. Adrenaline, hate, grief, regret, love. I can’t breathe. Pain, doubt, joy, longing. I swear I can’t breathe.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the signal.
Not now. Please not now.
I can’t do anything about it. The raid’s begun. I hear the soft whispering of the tall grass as it parts to the bodies of the men moving through it. Without realizing, I’m among the men too. The commencement of the raid has grounded me. My irrepressible thoughts are quenched with focus on the task ahead.
The rustling of the swaying golden grass sounds like a child’s laughter.
I look to locate my comrades amongst the foliage and see a child instead. A little boy, no more than two. He’s familiar. I know him. I know I do.
His eyes are painful to look into. They are Mark’s. The boy with the golden hair is my own . . . or rather, he would’ve been.
I shake my head and continue forward. I’m focused. Gunfire resonates around me.
Only I’m not in the raid anymore. I stand in a white gown, Mark’s hand in mine, with a smile on my lips and the popping of champagne all around. A wedding. My wedding . . .
Get a grip. Please get a grip. Not here. Not now. The explosion of a grenade.
There are people laughing. My family all together again, surrounding the dinner table.
Men dropping around me.
Childhood, high school, innocence, first dates, college, dreams, weddings, children, contentment. I close my eyes and reach out a hand, trying to grasp the future and hold onto the past. I cry out for what was and what could’ve been . . . but it’s gone. Lost, just like yesterday’s Mary Anne. The worst part is knowing I sent her away, and along with her, the freedom I thought I didn’t have. I watch the raid rage on, wishing for silence, the silence that lets me think, feel, and remember. The silence that makes me feel human.
4 September 2020
The Art of Remembering
Silence.
Eternal, deafening silence.
It shouts, thrashes, screams . . . but not a whisper is heard.
I lay on my stomach, the earth warm beneath my body, the sound of my own heart drumming in my ear. It’s quiet in the mountains, the kind of quiet my old self might have found peaceful before the war. But she’s not here anymore. I’ve lost her.
A night raid in the green forested hills of Vietnam. It used to be my favorite . . .
No.
Stop.
It is my favorite, or rather it’s supposed to be.
The earth is warm, my vision dark. I can hear my own breathing amongst the slow inhales and exhales of the soldiers next to me. Soldiers. Am I really one of them? I don’t belong here . . .
Stop it. I mean it.
You do belong here. Would you rather be stuck there, playing house? With him?
House. Home. Him. My breathing stands out amongst the greenies. It’s dead silent, but my breaths are desperate and raspy. They are loud. I can feel eyes turning towards my own, silently screaming at my own lack of quiet. The eyes remind me of my parents, of Mark. To think of all I’ve given up, all I’ve left behind . . .
Don’t go there. You CAN’T go there.
My only weakness is once I’ve started, I can’t stop. So I do go there. The world turns upside down. The mountainous landscape blurs, and I’m blinded by the feelings I wish I could suppress. Adrenaline, hate, grief, regret, love. I can’t breathe. Pain, doubt, joy, longing. I swear I can’t breathe.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the signal.
Not now. Please not now.
I can’t do anything about it. The raid’s begun. I hear the soft whispering of the tall grass as it parts to the bodies of the men moving through it. Without realizing, I’m among the men too. The commencement of the raid has grounded me. My irrepressible thoughts are quenched with focus on the task ahead.
The rustling of the swaying golden grass sounds like a child’s laughter.
I look to locate my comrades amongst the foliage and see a child instead. A little boy, no more than two. He’s familiar. I know him. I know I do.
His eyes are painful to look into. They are Mark’s. The boy with the golden hair is my own . . . or rather, he would’ve been.
I shake my head and continue forward. I’m focused. Gunfire resonates around me.
Only I’m not in the raid anymore. I stand in a white gown, Mark’s hand in mine, with a smile on my lips and the popping of champagne all around. A wedding. My wedding . . .
Get a grip. Please get a grip. Not here. Not now. The explosion of a grenade.
There are people laughing. My family all together again, surrounding the dinner table.
Men dropping around me.
Childhood, high school, innocence, first dates, college, dreams, weddings, children, contentment. I close my eyes and reach out a hand, trying to grasp the future and hold onto the past. I cry out for what was and what could’ve been . . . but it’s gone. Lost, just like yesterday’s Mary Anne. The worst part is knowing I sent her away, and along with her, the freedom I thought I didn’t have. I watch the raid rage on, wishing for silence, the silence that lets me think, feel, and remember. The silence that makes me feel human.
Austin Johnson
The Life of Mary Anne Bell
My name is Mary Anne Bell and here is my story. I was born on April 17, 1951 in the small town of University Heights, Ohio. When I was growing up it had a population of around 16,500 people, and today it has a population of 14,000people. In this small town is where I met the future love of my life, Mark Fossie. Mark had such a vibrant personality and was definitely a people person. We hit it off as soon as we met in the gymnasium at Roxboro Middle School. We dated all throughout middle school and high school. I was deeply saddened when I learned Mark had to go off to Vietnam but I always knew that I would see him again in one way or another. I was ecstatic when I found out that Mark would fly me out to Vietnam but I do vaguely remember having a bad feeling about the upcoming trip.
The Life of Mary Anne Bell
My name is Mary Anne Bell and here is my story. I was born on April 17, 1951 in the small town of University Heights, Ohio. When I was growing up it had a population of around 16,500 people, and today it has a population of 14,000people. In this small town is where I met the future love of my life, Mark Fossie. Mark had such a vibrant personality and was definitely a people person. We hit it off as soon as we met in the gymnasium at Roxboro Middle School. We dated all throughout middle school and high school. I was deeply saddened when I learned Mark had to go off to Vietnam but I always knew that I would see him again in one way or another. I was ecstatic when I found out that Mark would fly me out to Vietnam but I do vaguely remember having a bad feeling about the upcoming trip.
Michiah Gill
The Trip That Changed My Life: Vietnam
It was senior year at Cleveland High. I,Mary Anne Bell, was a golden student. I made great grades, I was in all AP classes, and I maintained a 4.0 GPA. I was captain of the cheer team, co-captain of the dance team, and I was the president of student council. So if you couldn’t tell by now, I was one of the most popular girls in school, and honestly, it was pretty exhausting. I knew I could never slip up. Not only was I one of the most popular girls at my school, but I was also one of the only African Americans in my school. In fact, there were only 3 of us in the senior class alone. The senior class had 80 students total. So now you kinda understand why being on top was my main priority. I wanted to be known, to be acknowledged, and to make a change. While I was pretty popular, there were several people that hated my guts. “You don’t belong here.” That line never got old. I never showed this at all, but I hated “not belonging.”
The Trip That Changed My Life: Vietnam
It was senior year at Cleveland High. I,Mary Anne Bell, was a golden student. I made great grades, I was in all AP classes, and I maintained a 4.0 GPA. I was captain of the cheer team, co-captain of the dance team, and I was the president of student council. So if you couldn’t tell by now, I was one of the most popular girls in school, and honestly, it was pretty exhausting. I knew I could never slip up. Not only was I one of the most popular girls at my school, but I was also one of the only African Americans in my school. In fact, there were only 3 of us in the senior class alone. The senior class had 80 students total. So now you kinda understand why being on top was my main priority. I wanted to be known, to be acknowledged, and to make a change. While I was pretty popular, there were several people that hated my guts. “You don’t belong here.” That line never got old. I never showed this at all, but I hated “not belonging.”
2019-2020
Gabbi Walker, Maya Barnes, and Mia Barnes enjoy a virtual pilgrimage.
Holy Spirit Sophomore Class Holy Land Virtual Pilgrimage
The 10th grade theology class recently took a virtual pilgrimage. They ventured to the places where they could walk where Jesus walked. They climbed the Mount of Olives, swam in the Jordan River, and fished in the Sea of Galilee. Here are their stories and photos of their trip.
The 10th grade theology class recently took a virtual pilgrimage. They ventured to the places where they could walk where Jesus walked. They climbed the Mount of Olives, swam in the Jordan River, and fished in the Sea of Galilee. Here are their stories and photos of their trip.
The 10th grade rehearsal for the puppet show.
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Holy Spirit Sophomore Class Kingdom of Kindness and Everybody Needs Love The 10th grade wrote scripts and songs and made their own puppets and sets to prepare a puppet show performance for the elementary school students. The inspiration for the show was based on the Christian virtues. We watched Being Elmo which is a documentary about the actor Kevin Clash who created Elmo for Sesame Street. The film taught us how to make puppets and to understand the importance of puppetry in a child’s life. Our show was canceled due to the Coronavirus, but we had so much fun preparing and hope the performance will continue when we finally go back to school. The Kingdom of Kindness and Everybody Needs Love are the names of the puppet shows. Check out the script written by Marie Mewes, Claire Laubenthal, Hayden Pilkinton, and Elaina Russell and the song written by Michiah Gill. You can also see photos of our rehearsals. |
Bella Guynes, 16
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Bella Guynes "Adaptation of Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong"
I received a letter from Mark today, all the way from Vietnam. I expected the usual; how much he loved me, how much he missed me, and how much he wished we could be together again in our small town in Ohio like old times. Well, I was mistaken. Mark had a whole plan about coming to Vietnam and staying with him... |
Perla Vega, 16
Perla Vega "Adaptation of Sweetheart of the Song Tra Bong"
Mark's face was full of excitement, "Mary Anne!" He leapt out of the plastic chair, rushed towards me, and we embraced. I heard him let out a sigh as he whispered, "I missed you."
Mark's face was full of excitement, "Mary Anne!" He leapt out of the plastic chair, rushed towards me, and we embraced. I heard him let out a sigh as he whispered, "I missed you."
Mia Livaudais, 13
Mia Livaudais "Ghosts"
I lay in bed early that morning, not quite asleep but not quite awake. I heard my phone ring beside me and grabbed it off the end table. The call was from Lilly’s contact, my best friend. I smiled as her contact photo appeared on the screen, a picture of her smiling big with white teeth, one of her hands on her long brown hair that was long gone now. The photo was the last one I had of her before it got a hold of her.
Mia Livaudias "Beach"
The walk there is dark, but I am not afraid. For once in my life I ignore my anxieties, forcing my over-thinking brain to let me enjoy one night; have one good care-free night alone. Alone without my own problems and my painful past that chases me, haunts me, every moment it can. I walk down the street. The only people out are the teenagers having fun at the pool, having a rebellious night-swimming party, listening to music. I ignore them and keep walking, passing under the bright halo of a street lamp. Before long I come to the dock. I can hear the waves now, although they are distant. I take off my sandals and leave them on the wooden dock, feeling the worn-down planks and the grains of sand beneath my feet. At last I reach the end of the dock and see the astonishing beach ahead of me. It’s empty now; even the crab-hunters and party-goers are at home, probably asleep.
I lay in bed early that morning, not quite asleep but not quite awake. I heard my phone ring beside me and grabbed it off the end table. The call was from Lilly’s contact, my best friend. I smiled as her contact photo appeared on the screen, a picture of her smiling big with white teeth, one of her hands on her long brown hair that was long gone now. The photo was the last one I had of her before it got a hold of her.
Mia Livaudias "Beach"
The walk there is dark, but I am not afraid. For once in my life I ignore my anxieties, forcing my over-thinking brain to let me enjoy one night; have one good care-free night alone. Alone without my own problems and my painful past that chases me, haunts me, every moment it can. I walk down the street. The only people out are the teenagers having fun at the pool, having a rebellious night-swimming party, listening to music. I ignore them and keep walking, passing under the bright halo of a street lamp. Before long I come to the dock. I can hear the waves now, although they are distant. I take off my sandals and leave them on the wooden dock, feeling the worn-down planks and the grains of sand beneath my feet. At last I reach the end of the dock and see the astonishing beach ahead of me. It’s empty now; even the crab-hunters and party-goers are at home, probably asleep.
Anonymous, 16 "Virtual Reality"
A place memorable to me is one that doesn't exist in reality. Instead, I live inside a world of virtual reality. Through ideas and previous experiences, I'm able to bring my universe to life...
A place memorable to me is one that doesn't exist in reality. Instead, I live inside a world of virtual reality. Through ideas and previous experiences, I'm able to bring my universe to life...
FLASH FICTION
Jade Stewart, 16
Jade Stewart
Manhole
“Hey!” Lenny, the construction worker, yells to George, the other construction worker, “ pass me that hammer next to the manhole!”
George replies, “Next to the what?”
“Next to the manhole!”
“What do u think you’re calling a manhole?!”
“What do you mean George?”
“I mean why do we call it a manhole. It is a total disgrace to mankind.”
Lenny, highly confused, asks, “ What’s wrong with calling it a manhole?”
“It is highly offensive to the opposite sex to call it a manhole when it could be called a womanhole,” George replies.
“I mean, I guess you are right. The piece of metal that covers the opening to the sewer where human feces floats about should be “gender neutral.” Sorry.”
“I forgive your atrocious mistake.”
“What should I call it?” Lenny asks.
“Well, let’s see. It has to be gender neutral. It has to have a name that will please both genders so they won’t be offended when they pass the metal circle that states there is toxic waste boiling below.”
“What about neutral-hole?”
“Naw! That is too obvious. We want it to be gender neutral.”
”You mean more obvious than us standing here in bright yellow jackets talking about how it should be gender neutral while the hustle and bustle of the city watches us.”
“ Well, of course. It makes sense don’t it?!”
“ I am afraid to say no George, afraid to say no…”
“Anyway what about a maintenance hole? I think it’s original. It will stick. It’s a keeper for sure. Lenny what do u think?”
“I think you should pass me the hammer, George.”
Manhole
“Hey!” Lenny, the construction worker, yells to George, the other construction worker, “ pass me that hammer next to the manhole!”
George replies, “Next to the what?”
“Next to the manhole!”
“What do u think you’re calling a manhole?!”
“What do you mean George?”
“I mean why do we call it a manhole. It is a total disgrace to mankind.”
Lenny, highly confused, asks, “ What’s wrong with calling it a manhole?”
“It is highly offensive to the opposite sex to call it a manhole when it could be called a womanhole,” George replies.
“I mean, I guess you are right. The piece of metal that covers the opening to the sewer where human feces floats about should be “gender neutral.” Sorry.”
“I forgive your atrocious mistake.”
“What should I call it?” Lenny asks.
“Well, let’s see. It has to be gender neutral. It has to have a name that will please both genders so they won’t be offended when they pass the metal circle that states there is toxic waste boiling below.”
“What about neutral-hole?”
“Naw! That is too obvious. We want it to be gender neutral.”
”You mean more obvious than us standing here in bright yellow jackets talking about how it should be gender neutral while the hustle and bustle of the city watches us.”
“ Well, of course. It makes sense don’t it?!”
“ I am afraid to say no George, afraid to say no…”
“Anyway what about a maintenance hole? I think it’s original. It will stick. It’s a keeper for sure. Lenny what do u think?”
“I think you should pass me the hammer, George.”
Perla Vega, 16
Perla Vega
No Respect
It was a cozy, late, autumn afternoon, and the coffee shop smelled like vanilla. Blair sipped her caramel frappuccino as she heard Amelia’s literature speech.
‘’…and that is why penguins shouldn’t be relocated. What do you think, B?’’
Blair smiled and whipped her blonde hair back.
‘’Charming.’’
The girls discussed their AP classes and the latest gossip at Freeridge High School. They were both selected from their debate class to do a report on animal reformation and were expected to ace it. The girls laughed all afternoon and joked and flirted with the waiter. The doorbell rang and in came a gay couple with their son. Blair turned to look and smiled at them, but she looked at Amelia and rolled her eyes.
‘’That’s disgusting, society shouldn’t allow that,” she muttered loudly under her breath.
‘’Shh… Karen don’t say that.’’
Blair finished her frappuccino and waved her hand for the waiter.
A small, Asian woman came around and picked it up. She tried asking Blair if she wanted more, but her accent made it hard for the girls to understand.
‘’Ma’am, could you speak English properly,’’ Amelia groaned.
Blair gave Amelia a whimsical look and turned to the waitress.
‘’I sorry. I sorry," said the waitress. She began to shake a little when she grabbed the girl’s checks.
No Respect
It was a cozy, late, autumn afternoon, and the coffee shop smelled like vanilla. Blair sipped her caramel frappuccino as she heard Amelia’s literature speech.
‘’…and that is why penguins shouldn’t be relocated. What do you think, B?’’
Blair smiled and whipped her blonde hair back.
‘’Charming.’’
The girls discussed their AP classes and the latest gossip at Freeridge High School. They were both selected from their debate class to do a report on animal reformation and were expected to ace it. The girls laughed all afternoon and joked and flirted with the waiter. The doorbell rang and in came a gay couple with their son. Blair turned to look and smiled at them, but she looked at Amelia and rolled her eyes.
‘’That’s disgusting, society shouldn’t allow that,” she muttered loudly under her breath.
‘’Shh… Karen don’t say that.’’
Blair finished her frappuccino and waved her hand for the waiter.
A small, Asian woman came around and picked it up. She tried asking Blair if she wanted more, but her accent made it hard for the girls to understand.
‘’Ma’am, could you speak English properly,’’ Amelia groaned.
Blair gave Amelia a whimsical look and turned to the waitress.
‘’I sorry. I sorry," said the waitress. She began to shake a little when she grabbed the girl’s checks.
Sarah Martin, 16
Sarah Martin
OK Boomer
“Oh my goodness, kids these days are so sensitive! When I was your age I never got upset about the smallest things like you do!”
“Uh huh, sure”
“It’s true! You make one joke about a guy on Facebook and suddenly you’re getting, oh what is it you kids say now? ‘Cancelled’? That is so ridiculous! It’s just a joke, and you special ‘snowflakes’ can’t handle it!”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re a bunch of snowflakes just like you say every time we try to correct you when you say something that’s racist, sexist ,or homophobic.”
“They’re just jokes! I have one gay friend from high school, so I can’t be homophobic. I am being a hundred percent serious. Your generation needs to seriously toughen up. You can’t say one thing in this day in age without the whole world falling apart...”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that happens with just anything.”
“It is with anything! It happens with anything and everything! You kids also just say you have depression and anxiety when in reality none of that is true either! You’re just making it up for the attention and then get upset when things don’t go your way. A bunch of special millennial and Generation Z snowflakes! You guys wouldn’t be able to survive without your Chapsnap and your Instabook!”
“Ok boomer. Whatever you say…”
“ What did you just say to me???”
“Ok boomer.”
“You can’t say that! That is so rude! You kids never have any respect for your elders anymore!”
OK Boomer
“Oh my goodness, kids these days are so sensitive! When I was your age I never got upset about the smallest things like you do!”
“Uh huh, sure”
“It’s true! You make one joke about a guy on Facebook and suddenly you’re getting, oh what is it you kids say now? ‘Cancelled’? That is so ridiculous! It’s just a joke, and you special ‘snowflakes’ can’t handle it!”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re a bunch of snowflakes just like you say every time we try to correct you when you say something that’s racist, sexist ,or homophobic.”
“They’re just jokes! I have one gay friend from high school, so I can’t be homophobic. I am being a hundred percent serious. Your generation needs to seriously toughen up. You can’t say one thing in this day in age without the whole world falling apart...”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that happens with just anything.”
“It is with anything! It happens with anything and everything! You kids also just say you have depression and anxiety when in reality none of that is true either! You’re just making it up for the attention and then get upset when things don’t go your way. A bunch of special millennial and Generation Z snowflakes! You guys wouldn’t be able to survive without your Chapsnap and your Instabook!”
“Ok boomer. Whatever you say…”
“ What did you just say to me???”
“Ok boomer.”
“You can’t say that! That is so rude! You kids never have any respect for your elders anymore!”
Elaina Russell, 15
Elaina Russell
Mr. Wiggles
Citizens of Genosha, today I come to you as a representative of my dog, Mr. Wiggles, who is running for presidency as a member of the Dogs for Politics party.
Mr. Wiggles would like me to let you know some of his statistics for the next few minutes, please remember that everything I say is a rough translation of what Mr. Wiggles is actually saying, since I do not speak the language of turbanydogalog.
Throughout his political career, Mr. Wiggles has been Mayor of Ergington, Governor of Coslumbia, and Senator of Genosha. He has maintained his position as a member of the Dogington Congress for the last six years, all the while growing his family and remaining a devout member of the church of Woof.
As many of you know, Oprah recently endorsed Mr. Wiggles on her show “So What’s the News in the Doghouse?” She said that, “Mr. Wiggles would be an excellent President for the citizens of Genosha.” She has also continually maintained her opinion that Mr. Wiggles has the best statistics compared to any other candidates, especially that of Mrs. Swipe. Oprah has said many things against Mrs. Catherine Swipe, and in endorsement of Mr. Wiggles, but that is besides the point.
The important thing for the voters of Genosha to know is that Mr. Wiggles has your back. He has shown this continually not only through his positions of power in politics, but also during his timed served in the 12th Animalton of the Woofry Army of Genosha. He served as a captain of his Animalton, and received the medal of valor during his service due to the loss of his leg while retrieving fellow service cat, Charles the Lion.
Mr. Wiggles would also like to focus on the issue of the declining dogconomy. He understands that this is a topic on many of the citizens of Genosha minds, and it is on his as well. Mr. Wiggles has a plan which he will be releasing closer to the vote date that will increase exports as well as decreasing Genoshas’ debt.
The citizens of Genosha are worried, they need a leader, and Mr. Wiggles can be there for them. On March 54th, go to your voting stations located all throughout Genosha, and place your vote for the leader that you need. Place your vote for Mr. Wiggles.
On the behalf of Mr. Wiggles, thank you, and God bless.
Mr. Wiggles
Citizens of Genosha, today I come to you as a representative of my dog, Mr. Wiggles, who is running for presidency as a member of the Dogs for Politics party.
Mr. Wiggles would like me to let you know some of his statistics for the next few minutes, please remember that everything I say is a rough translation of what Mr. Wiggles is actually saying, since I do not speak the language of turbanydogalog.
Throughout his political career, Mr. Wiggles has been Mayor of Ergington, Governor of Coslumbia, and Senator of Genosha. He has maintained his position as a member of the Dogington Congress for the last six years, all the while growing his family and remaining a devout member of the church of Woof.
As many of you know, Oprah recently endorsed Mr. Wiggles on her show “So What’s the News in the Doghouse?” She said that, “Mr. Wiggles would be an excellent President for the citizens of Genosha.” She has also continually maintained her opinion that Mr. Wiggles has the best statistics compared to any other candidates, especially that of Mrs. Swipe. Oprah has said many things against Mrs. Catherine Swipe, and in endorsement of Mr. Wiggles, but that is besides the point.
The important thing for the voters of Genosha to know is that Mr. Wiggles has your back. He has shown this continually not only through his positions of power in politics, but also during his timed served in the 12th Animalton of the Woofry Army of Genosha. He served as a captain of his Animalton, and received the medal of valor during his service due to the loss of his leg while retrieving fellow service cat, Charles the Lion.
Mr. Wiggles would also like to focus on the issue of the declining dogconomy. He understands that this is a topic on many of the citizens of Genosha minds, and it is on his as well. Mr. Wiggles has a plan which he will be releasing closer to the vote date that will increase exports as well as decreasing Genoshas’ debt.
The citizens of Genosha are worried, they need a leader, and Mr. Wiggles can be there for them. On March 54th, go to your voting stations located all throughout Genosha, and place your vote for the leader that you need. Place your vote for Mr. Wiggles.
On the behalf of Mr. Wiggles, thank you, and God bless.
Jordan McNair, 16
Jordan McNair
TikTik
“Hey Jordan what’s that dance you and your friends keep doing? You’ve done it like thirty times in the last hour, it’s getting weird.”
“Oh don’t worry about it, Mom. It’s just some dance from TikTok I learned. Me and Bella can’t stop doing it.”
“Oh, ok well that’s kinda fun. Wanna teach your old mom how to do it?”
“Uh, I’m gonna have to go with a no on that one.”
“Ok then...”
-3 hours later-
“Guess what Jordan.”
“What?”
“I learned your little TikTik dance.”
“Mother! No, why would you do that, that’s so weird!”
“Whatever, but let me tell you I want you to delete that app.”
“Why! That’s so unfair!”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Jordan, there’s way too much inappropriate stuff on there. I don’t want you looking at that garbage.”
“I’m not gonna delete it. I don’t care what you say.”
“Fine, don’t delete it. Though, I doubt you’ll be able to use it much since you’re grounded.”
“Whatever, I’ll delete it. But don’t forget I’m really hating you right now.”
“You will not speak to me that way, young lady. Apologize right now, or I’m calling your father.”
“Fine, I’m sorry. Can I just go to my room?”
“Yes! I don’t wanna see you right now anyway.”
TikTik
“Hey Jordan what’s that dance you and your friends keep doing? You’ve done it like thirty times in the last hour, it’s getting weird.”
“Oh don’t worry about it, Mom. It’s just some dance from TikTok I learned. Me and Bella can’t stop doing it.”
“Oh, ok well that’s kinda fun. Wanna teach your old mom how to do it?”
“Uh, I’m gonna have to go with a no on that one.”
“Ok then...”
-3 hours later-
“Guess what Jordan.”
“What?”
“I learned your little TikTik dance.”
“Mother! No, why would you do that, that’s so weird!”
“Whatever, but let me tell you I want you to delete that app.”
“Why! That’s so unfair!”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Jordan, there’s way too much inappropriate stuff on there. I don’t want you looking at that garbage.”
“I’m not gonna delete it. I don’t care what you say.”
“Fine, don’t delete it. Though, I doubt you’ll be able to use it much since you’re grounded.”
“Whatever, I’ll delete it. But don’t forget I’m really hating you right now.”
“You will not speak to me that way, young lady. Apologize right now, or I’m calling your father.”
“Fine, I’m sorry. Can I just go to my room?”
“Yes! I don’t wanna see you right now anyway.”
Becca Melton, 16
Becca Melton
Family Matters
“I don’t get why you’re taking this so personally. It’s not even a big deal,” Kim says.
“Yes it is,” I say quietly. “Don’t be stupid.”
She rolls her eyes. “I love him, Kayla. Do you not want me to be happy?” Her eyes get wide as she looks at me.
“That’s not it at all, but when you start hanging out with him more than your family--”
“I do not! And he is family!”
“But we were your family first,” I say, crossing my arms.
Her mouth drops. “Why can’t you just be supportive? I support you with everything you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“You’re always critical of everything I do. Why can’t you let me have the one thing?”
“You have everything,” I retort.
She looks at me for an instant, then rolls her eyes and walks away. She looks at her phone and cracks a smile. She looks back at me with a smirk and grabs her coat.
I walk toward her. “Where are you going?” I ask as she walks to the door.
“To see Jack, of course,” she says. “See you later.”
I stand there silently as the door shuts. I watch her get into her car and drive away.
Family Matters
“I don’t get why you’re taking this so personally. It’s not even a big deal,” Kim says.
“Yes it is,” I say quietly. “Don’t be stupid.”
She rolls her eyes. “I love him, Kayla. Do you not want me to be happy?” Her eyes get wide as she looks at me.
“That’s not it at all, but when you start hanging out with him more than your family--”
“I do not! And he is family!”
“But we were your family first,” I say, crossing my arms.
Her mouth drops. “Why can’t you just be supportive? I support you with everything you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“You’re always critical of everything I do. Why can’t you let me have the one thing?”
“You have everything,” I retort.
She looks at me for an instant, then rolls her eyes and walks away. She looks at her phone and cracks a smile. She looks back at me with a smirk and grabs her coat.
I walk toward her. “Where are you going?” I ask as she walks to the door.
“To see Jack, of course,” she says. “See you later.”
I stand there silently as the door shuts. I watch her get into her car and drive away.
William Ferro, 16
William Ferro
Burger King Experience
This it it. This it how it ends. My body can’t take it anymore. I just wanted the Impossible Whopper™️, and yet here I am in a standoff with a S.W.A.T team. Once I entered those doors, there was no return.
“One Impossible Whopper™️, no pickles.” I say to the cashier who looks like the lady that tried to sell me crack while at Sam’s a week ago.
“Just the burger or the meal?” she says.
“Meal”, I respond.
After about 5 minutes of waiting, I got my bag. I look inside to find a burger with fries.
“Oh yeah, I forgot my drink.” I think to myself. Realizing my error, I hand the cashier the receipt and say that she forgot to give me the drink with my meal.
“Oh no, you ordered the meal.” She says, and walks off. Things are blurry and start spinning. “Not again” I say (A similar thing happened at Hardees). I black out.
Burger King Experience
This it it. This it how it ends. My body can’t take it anymore. I just wanted the Impossible Whopper™️, and yet here I am in a standoff with a S.W.A.T team. Once I entered those doors, there was no return.
“One Impossible Whopper™️, no pickles.” I say to the cashier who looks like the lady that tried to sell me crack while at Sam’s a week ago.
“Just the burger or the meal?” she says.
“Meal”, I respond.
After about 5 minutes of waiting, I got my bag. I look inside to find a burger with fries.
“Oh yeah, I forgot my drink.” I think to myself. Realizing my error, I hand the cashier the receipt and say that she forgot to give me the drink with my meal.
“Oh no, you ordered the meal.” She says, and walks off. Things are blurry and start spinning. “Not again” I say (A similar thing happened at Hardees). I black out.
Jackson Killen, 16
Jackson Killen
Nuts
“Hey Almonds!”
“What up, Walnuts?”
“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about the upcoming nut presidential race.”
“Wow, Walnuts that’s really mature, you’re turning into a great young nut.”
“But Almonds, if you wouldn’t mind, can you let me in on which of these nuts you’re thinking on voting for?”
“Hmmm, I kinda despise all of the nut candidates”
“Why’s that Almonds?”
“Never mind, Walnuts. It’s too big of a topic to deal with right now.”
“Here comes my wife Raisins.”
“Hey, my big strong nut how’s your day going?”
“ALMONDS YOU’RE MARRIED TO A FRUIT!! YOU’RE A TRAITOR TO THE NUT RACE”
“Shut up, Walnuts! We’re all united in the great Chex Mix bag.”
“NEVER, I WON’T LET THIS BETRAYAL STAND! I’LL CALL ALL MEMBERS OF THE GREAT NUT RACE AN…..”
“OH NO!! IT’S THE OGRE, ITS BACK!”
“NOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOM”
“Oh, nuts.”
“Wait, look, Almonds, it's only grabbing Fruit.”
What, Walnuts? Why would it discriminate when we’re all Chex Mix.”
“It’s taking out all the fruit and throwing it in the trash!”
*If you still don’t get it, the ogre is Trump.
**Haha, you thought it was about politics then it wasn’t, then it was.
Nuts
“Hey Almonds!”
“What up, Walnuts?”
“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about the upcoming nut presidential race.”
“Wow, Walnuts that’s really mature, you’re turning into a great young nut.”
“But Almonds, if you wouldn’t mind, can you let me in on which of these nuts you’re thinking on voting for?”
“Hmmm, I kinda despise all of the nut candidates”
“Why’s that Almonds?”
“Never mind, Walnuts. It’s too big of a topic to deal with right now.”
“Here comes my wife Raisins.”
“Hey, my big strong nut how’s your day going?”
“ALMONDS YOU’RE MARRIED TO A FRUIT!! YOU’RE A TRAITOR TO THE NUT RACE”
“Shut up, Walnuts! We’re all united in the great Chex Mix bag.”
“NEVER, I WON’T LET THIS BETRAYAL STAND! I’LL CALL ALL MEMBERS OF THE GREAT NUT RACE AN…..”
“OH NO!! IT’S THE OGRE, ITS BACK!”
“NOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOM”
“Oh, nuts.”
“Wait, look, Almonds, it's only grabbing Fruit.”
What, Walnuts? Why would it discriminate when we’re all Chex Mix.”
“It’s taking out all the fruit and throwing it in the trash!”
*If you still don’t get it, the ogre is Trump.
**Haha, you thought it was about politics then it wasn’t, then it was.