2020 Canyons Magazine   

“Nostalgia Empowers”   Nostalgia is a bouquet, a menu, a photo album, a soundtrack, and a ball of yarn to untangle.   Nostalgia is the wistful smell of summertime rainstorms, musty crayons scrawled on blank paper, freshly  baked cookies in Grandma’s kitchen, and chlorine dripping off sun-kissed skin.   Nostalgia is the tapestried taste of hurried Happy Meals snarfed in playplaces, after school goldfish  snack packs, butter-covered popcorn on family movie night, and almost-stale-but-not-quite hidden  Halloween candy.   Nostalgia is the sentimental sight of watching Barbies fighting Bionicles in basement battles, gawking at  mesmerizingly colorful cartoons, searching for ladybugs in a field of green grass, and gazing and  wishing on glimmering stars above.   Nostalgia is the lingering sounds of “You’re it!” shouts during recess tag, blaring sirens as the ice cream  truck rounds the corner while begging Mom for a dollar, peeling laughter of weekend sleepovers on  the old, creeky trampoline, and singing silly songs on repeat during car trips.   Nostalgia is the longing feeling of shocking electricity on backsides down plastic slides, whistling wind  brushing back hair while riding bikes down the street, popping blisters on hands after hours hanging  on monkey bars, and tying soft blankets around shoulders to act as superhero capes.   Nostalgia is pretending to be asleep after a long drive to trick parents into carrying you to bed,  cleaning your room and finding lost treasures from childhood, walking past your elementary school and  remembering forgotten pinky swears, and attending Friday night football games and parking lot dances  with friends you hope to have forever.   Nostalgia is a reminiscence of time gone by, a recollection of memories seeped in glossy filters, a  remembrance of this specific perspective of life, and a reflection on all the lessons learned along the  way.   Nostalgia is a yearning to return to the idyllic past, an appreciation for the tangible present, and a  confidence boost for the unknown future. With the vision of 2020, hindsight helps us see a brighter  tomorrow.     Nostalgia Empowers.   

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2020 Canyons Sta� List  

Editor-in-Chief Taya “Finn the Human” Anderson  

Copy Editor

Rebekah “Word Girl” Desmond  

Art Editors Katie “Bubbles” Langford  

Andrea Larsen  

Layout Specialist Charlee “Mordecai” Cannon  

Advertising/Publicity

Sadie Goodrich  

Support Staff/Junior Editors Lucas Gorgoglione  

Luis "Clamantha" Hernandez  Landon “Gumball” Harris  

Faculty Advisor

Jasmine “She-Ra” Pulsipher  

Snow Canyon High School 1385 N. Lava Flow Dr. St. George, UT 84770

(435)634-1967 submittocanyons@gmail.com

 The Canyons staff is a group of unique Snow Canyon students who have devoted their  time to producing a quality literary and art magazine. Canyons accepts original poetry,  fiction, nonfiction, art, and photography from the Snow Canyon student body. Submitted  works are critiqued and edited by the Canyons staff. We reserve the right to edit  writing submissions for mechanics, clarity, and design. Canyons is an annual publication.  We appreciate your support.  

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Table of Contents -- Writers

“ Fear ” by Taya Anderson … pg. 34 “The Love of Achilles ” by Chloe Andes … pg. 21

“ Our Future ” by Chloe Andes … pg. 36 “ Mother ” by Anonymous … pg. 25

“ Simply Bright ” by Ethan Barfield … pg. 12 “ What Matters ” by Ethan Barfield … pg. 26 " Emily Hue " by Benson Bernhardt … pg. 42 " My Family " by Benson Bernhardt … pg. 18 “ Blank Page ” by Charlee Cannon … pg. 53

" My Service Savior " by Allison Carmona … pg. 27 " Zion National Park " by Kari Cheesman … pg. 57 “ Taking The Green ” by Kaden Crouch … pg. 61

“ Young Love ” by Sofia Cuara … pg. 45 “ Facade ” by Rebekah Desmond … pg. 41

“Feeling Nostalgic ” by Auri Dunn … pg. 8 “ My Female Generation ” by Auri Dunn … pg. 11 “ Candy Shop ” b y Alexandria Edwards … pg. 47 “ Problem People ” by Kamree Finley … pg. 47 “The Park ” by Cristian Galdamez … pg. 61

" Nature " by Andrea Ginder … pg. 16 " The Question " by Andrea Ginder … pg. 12

“ Ode to the Night ” by Sadie Goodrich … pg. 17 " The Monster of Midnight " by Sadie Goodrich … pg. 54

" Nature " by Lucas Gorgoglione … pg. 56 “ Home ” by Landon Harris … pg. 60

“ A Selfish Wish ” by Luis Hernandez … pg. 29 " The Magic of Winter " by Luis Hernadez … pg. 22

" Ghost Train " by Michelle Humphrey … pg. 30 " Apology to the Class of 2020 " by Katie Langford … pg. 7

“ Basketball Sounds ” by Katie Langford … pg. 55 " The Love of Reading " by Katie Langford … pg. 52

“ Her ” by Andrea Larson … pg. 28 " Storm ” by Dainian Lovewell … pg. 49 “ For a Friend ” by Jared Mehr … pg. 37

“ Poetry ” by Jared Mehr … pg. 35 “ These Hands ” by Jared Mehr … pg. 15

“ Beauty In Chaos ” by Jocelyn Ostler … pg. 11 " Contrast " by Erik Parrish … pg. 17 “ Earth ” by Korbin Perkins … pg. 20

“The Iron Sky Prologue ” by Jasmine Pulsipher … pg. 64 “ No Pulse ” by Brandon Salazar … pg. 58

“ Kromlnite Watch ” by Ben Seamons … pg. 59 “ Lose Me ” by Paola Vasquez Serrano … pg. 44

“ Trapped ” by Caleb Slater … pg. 33 “ 2020 ” by Taya Waggoner … pg. 48

“ Change ” by Taya Waggoner … pg. 63 " Cabo " by Abby Walster … pg. 19 “ Cuz ” by Kasia Watson … pg. 50

“ The Octopus ” by Tamaranta Wellhoff … pg. 62 “ The Ugly Duckling ” by Tamarantha Wellhoff … pg. 46

“Ode to a Pickle” by Josh Woodsworth … pg. 55

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 Table of Contents -- Artists  

  “Bird Girl” by Mia Adolpho … pg. 44  “Friends” by Bryan Amistron … pg. 37  “Split” by Ashton Andersen … pg. 17  “Orange You Glad” by Kaidyn Anderson … pg. 51  “The Primaries” by Topher Belmont … pg. 53  “Friends” by Nancy Benitez … pg. 38  “ Girl in the Clouds” by Korbin Burton … pg. 36 “Child” by Julia Call … pg. 47 “Swimming” by Charlee Cannon … pg. 12 “Roadtrip” by Julizza Olea Cedillo … pg. 39 “Mind” by Emma Chuter … pg. 47 ”Sunset” by Jazzmin Coleman … pg. 57  “Skull” by Emily Contreras … pg. 35  “Turtle” by Lucy Deland … pg. 59  “Windowsill” by Abby Demille … pg. 60 “Family” by Rebekah Desmond … pg. 18  “Tess” by Savanna Desmond … pg. 63  “Content” by Hayleigh Dick … pg. 45  “Love” by Hi’ilani Dittman … pg. 14 “Archer” by Baylee Dover … pg. 21  “Red Hair” by Olivia Ence … pg. 42  “Colors” by Kiera Friedel … pg. 56  “Clouds” by Shellsea Ramirez Fuentes … pg. 24  “Flowers” by Shellsea R Fuentes … pg. 28  “Nature” by Shellsea Ramirez Fuentes … pg. 16  “Waterfall” by Shellsea R Fuentes … pg. 20  “Boy” by Alicia Garcia … pg. 29  “Light and Dark” by Kate Gaskell … pg. 49  “Secrets” by Andrea Ginder … pg. 36  “Holding Roses” By Jordyn Goates … pg. 25  “Rose” by Sophie Hafen … pg. 25  “Nature” by Angel Heath … pg. 46  “Sunset” by Angel Heath … pg. 18  “Poet” by Jayden Jeff … pg. 63  “Flip” by Samuel Johnson … pg. 39  

   Girl” by Katie Langford … pg. 11 “Purple” by Katie Langford … pg. 62  “Garden” by Ava Lyman … pg. 56  “Friends” by Aubreyanna Mahoney … pg. 37  “XTenacaion” by Shanoby Marin-Diez … pg. 55 “Band” by Raul Martinez … pg. 40 “Hand” by Gabriel Mascarenhas … pg. 15  “Before the Day” by Jared Mehr … pg. 59  “Forest Trail” by Jared Mehr … pg. 20  “Pink Twilight” by Jared Mehr … pg. 61  “Road to Heaven” by Jared Mehr … pg. 52 “Girl” by Jerica Olsen … pg. 55 “City Streets” by Quin Palmer … pg. 26  “Memories” by Quin Palmer … pg. 7 “Mustache Man” by Quin Palmer … pg. 6  “Summertime” by Quin Palmer … pg. 67  “Flowers” by Carley Reid … pg. 56  “Friends” by Renata Ramirez … pg. 38  “Girl” by Skylar Rogers … pg. 24 “Turtle” by Victor Rubio … pg. 19   “Dog” by Vivian Rubio … pg. 27  “Fragmented” by Josh Sargent … pg. 33  “Eyes” by Lucy Sherman … pg. 10  “Buildings” by Heidi Smith … pg. 60  “Buildings” by Shauna Stevenson … pg. 45 “Emerald Eye” by Shauna Stevenson … pg. 48 “Forest” by Shauna Stevenson … pg. 56  “Furrowed Brow” by Shauna Stevenson … pg. 6 “Meadow” by Shauna Stevenson … pg. 32  “Monster” by Maxwell Tholen … pg. 54  “Flower Girl” by Adriana Villa … pg. 11  “Death” by Taya Waggoner … pg. 58  “Flowers and Lemons” by Lexi Wheeler… pg. 41  “Faces” by McKare Wong … pg. 41

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“Mustache Man” by Quin Palmer

“Furrowed Brow” by Shauna Stevenson  

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" Apology to the Class of 2020 "

by Katie Langford

“Memories” by Quin Palmer

Sparkling lights at senior ball

Walking through the buzzing halls

Midnight excursions into town

Finally wearing a cap and gown

You worked so hard

Yet it was cut short   

You never got the chance

to play your spring sport

As time slips through your fingers and passes by

You stare at the ceiling and wonder “why?”

Thinking that if you would have had known

You would’ve spent less time on your phone

You would have worked up the courage to ask her on a date

And gone on more adventures with your best mates

So many things you wanted to do

All taken away by a disease-like-flu

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“Feeling Nostalgic ” by Auri Dunn

Penny didn’t want to be here. She had never wanted to come in the first place. And yet here she was, uprooted, moving across the country like the main character in some cheesy Netflix drama.

Penny sighed. She gazed out the window of her mother’s typical gray minivan, the music in her earbuds turned all the way up. The constant drumming of her fingers and the ‘90s punk song blaring in her ears were the only things keeping Penny’s nerves down.

The mini pulled to a stop outside an old, southern style manor house, at least a mile from the nearest paved road. Penny pulled out an earbud just in time to hear her mom give a giddy, “We’re here!”

Penny still couldn’t understand how her mother kept up a brave face considering… No . Penny had sworn not to think about it. After all, what use was there dwelling on the past? With another sigh, Penny hopped from the car. Gravel crunched beneath her black boots. She zipped up her hoodie as a sharp breeze flittered past, and trudge to get her suitcase.

It was a couple of hours later, after she had unpacked and promptly ignored the rest of the house, that Penny found herself moping around on her bed.

“Penny!” Her mom called from somewhere downstairs. “Don’t forget we’re going to dinner later!”

“Got it, Mom!” Penny pushed off her creaky bed, glancing around the grey walled

room. I’ve just got to try, Penny thought. For mom. She grabbed her blue hoodie from off the top of her suitcase.

It’d be good enough for a quick dinner trip, right? It surely was-- Very pretty…  Much better than our fashion…  Penny jumped, whipped around. She was sure she’d heard a man and

a woman. But the room was empty. There were only the grey walls, the short bed, and a one-paned window.

Penny shook her head. It was nothing. She headed downstairs. It’s kinda ironic , Penny thought. A new girl gets shipped across

the country and doesn’t even get a second glance at her new spooky school . But that was alright with Penny. She’d flown beneath the radar at her own school, she could fly under the radar here.

It was just after the last bell when someone actually talked to her.

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“The name is Nico,” a tweed-limbed dark-haired boy said. Penny glanced up from her period romance novel. “You’re Penny, right? You’re new here, right?”

He seems nice enough . Penny nodded, standing. The boy rattled on as they left the school building. “I heard you

guys moved into the old manor on the hill, right? I heard this old hermit used to live there. Some people say that a bunch of people went missing in the woods nearby the manor. Did you know--”

“Look,” Penny interrupted, ”I’m really sorry but I have to hurry home.” She took off without another glance, the dark-haired boy’s words fading behind her.

She reached the manor in a little over fifteen minutes, breathless. “Mom! I’m home!” Penny yelled, tossing her backpack aside as she pushed through the front door. Her mom’s voice sounded from the back of the house. It was barely audible beneath the--

She sure came home fast…  We all ran here, didn’t we…?  Not like her…  She seems lonely…  Lonelier than us…?  Penny’s brow furrowed. Where were those voices coming from? It

was almost like the walls were speaking. It’s nothing, Penny thought. Probably just intrusive thoughts.

Those are a thing… She headed to go help her mom. Penny kept hearing the voices. It had been two weeks since they

moved in, and Penny still had no idea where the voices had come from. She nicknamed them Henry and Anne. It helped lessen the pounding

headache they gave her. Do you think they’re going to redecorate...?  I hope they do… Too many painful memories…  I don’t know… It kinda… nostalgic…  Penny shoved off her bed. That was it. She was done with the

voices. Something was really off with this house, and she was going to follow the voices to find out what.

That girl doesn’t look very happy…  She probably misses wherever she came from…  She’s just like us then…  Penny shoved her ears over her hands as the voices grew louder.

She stopped in the middle of the hallway. The voices seemed to come from every side.

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Do you think she’ll join us…?  He isn’t here to put her in with us…  I wonder where he went…  You remember those times with him…?  Of course, I do… They were the worst times of my life…  Remember it all… Everything that happened...  “Stop,” Penny mumbled.

REMEMBER…  Penny shook her head. “Stop it. Stop it.

STOP IT!!” The last word from the voices pounded as it echoed through her brain. Like a pulsing knife against her skull.

R E M E M B E R . . . “Eyes” by Lucy Sherman “REMEMBER WHAT?!” Penny screamed, throwing out her fist. A shock of pain went through her fist. She gaped, letting out a

stifled cry. Blood trickled down her knuckles from where her fist had punched straight through the wall. Scaffolding rained to the floor revealing… something else.

A decayed, brown skeletal hand was stuck in the wall. Penny froze. The hand wasn’t the only thing. It disappeared into the wall, no doubt connected to the rest of the corpse--

It moved. Twitched. Then grabbed onto Penny’s wrist. She screamed. Inspector Morris lowered his brows at the wild scene before him.

The girl-- Penny they’d called her-- was still screaming. They’d no doubt take her to a facility, at least for a while. She was going on and on about voices and remembering. Maybe the nostalgic air of the old manor house had made her lose it. But she was so young.

“Inspector!” called a short, bulky officer. “They’ve pulled out more bodies.”

“More?! Blast it!” Morris scratched his stubble with an irritated hand. “That’s what, four now?”

“Five actually.” The short officer almost looked sick. Morris shook his head. “That poor girl, finding corpses in the

walls. And that poor mother.” “Guess those old missing persons stories were true,” the officer

muttered. Morris lifted his eyebrows. “Go start getting the old case files

open. And find out everything you can about the previous owner… and that girl.”

She was still screaming.

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“ My Female Generation ” by Auri Dunn Grandma says a woman should be

Devoted Comely

A mother Momma says a woman should be

Strong Independant

A worker I just want to be

Me

“Girl” by Katie Langford “Flower Girl” by Adriana Villa  

“ Beauty In Chaos ” by Jocelyn Ostler

Like a flame, dancing Wind blown hair

Ink stained hands, crooked smile Laughing loud, driving fast

Thoughts swirling, like leaves in a storm,

never still Dancing in the rain to the music of thunder

She is called chaotic,

she wears it like a badge Passionate to the point of obsession

She is often wrong, doubtful of herself, but displays false confidence

Convincing enough

Her love is committed, she’s always the last to let go A fragmented heart

Always gets hurt, but never learns her lesson

She is chaotic, foolish, but often means well I am learning to love her

learning to love me

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“Swimming” by Charlee Cannon

“ Simply Bright ” by Ethan Barfield

Oh, precious light

Shone down from the sky above,

Shining both day and night.

Fueling hope,

Helping me cope

With the surrounding darkness,

Leaving behind less.

Oh, precious light,

Leave not my life tonight.

Do keep at bay

My misery and sorrow,

Bring forth another day.

Give me another tomorrow.

" The Question " by Andrea Ginder

As I cruised down the road, my phone beeped and woke me from the zoned-out state I was in after staring blankly at the road. I flipped my phone open and quickly read the message that was sent to me. It was from Liam and said Meet me at our spot.   

Although all I wanted to do was get home after my long trip, I decided to make a u-turn and head to our secret spot. As I drove, I switched out my old cd for NSYNC’s newest hit songs and jammed out to my music. Before I knew it, I was at my destination. I parked my car on the side of the road and my feet hit the dirty ground as I got out of my car. From here, I would have to start walking to our spot.

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The trees stood tall and the colorful leaves swayed in the light breeze. The different hues of green, brown, and orange continued to amaze me. As I glanced toward the sky, the sun blinded me and I quickly returned my gaze to the beautiful area around me. After ten minutes of walking and ruining my white canvas shoes in the dirt, I reached the entrance to our secret spot. To get to this special place in the woods, you have to move aside a large piece of brush or else end up with small scratches all over your arms. Our spot was surrounded by colorful foliage on three sides. The last side opened up to the most beautiful view ever. Liam and I made this our secret spot when we were carefree teenagers, not worried about the future or grown-up responsibilities.

I pushed aside the brush, and gasped at what I saw on the other side. Not far ahead was a beautiful picnic blanket lying on the ground and so many candles were lit that it could be considered a safety hazard. Lights were strung along the trees with pictures of me and Liam clipped to the string. As I took in the scenery, I realized that Liam was nowhere in sight. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I finally reached the L’s. Before I could press the call button, I heard the faint sound of music.

Liam suddenly appeared and got down on one knee. Before I knew it, he was asking the question every girl dreamed of hearing.

“Will you marry me?” he asked. His question was timed perfectly as the sky started to

shift from clear, calming blue hues to vibrant hues of pink, orange, and yellow. I stood stunned as memories of us together started flowing through my head. Here I was looking at this perfect guy who made me so happy and made me feel like I was the only girl in the world.

Finally, only one word came out of my mouth, I yelled “yes!” with excitement in my voice and a big smile on my face. I could not believe this was happening. As he stood up to put the ring on my finger, I jumped into his arms. My heart was filled with so much love.

We stayed at our secret spot for hours, talking and laughing. My senses were overwhelmed. The soft touch of the

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blanket, the sweet aroma of the candles and trees, and the spectacular view that never got old. It was the most perfect night!

After all the memories we made here, in this spot, this was the best one and the one I would never forget. I will not forget the way his hands shook as he held the ring to me, the way he kept glancing at me with a smile on his face as we sat, or the way he held me tight as if I would disappear if he let go. He was my soulmate and I finally got my happily ever after.

 

 

 

 

“Love” by Hi’ilani Dittman

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“ These Hands ” by Jared Mehr

These hands Have wrought miracles Spawned catastrophe Helped others and hurt Myself I see That they reflect me But so differently Different sides of me They show Backsides Hard, able, and strong Beats, crashes, and chords All distract me from Her face Palms up Smaller and weak, yet Tender and loving Fight the hottest fire With gas

Running Hiding and lying Giving away time But it’s already Too late Choices Remain on these hands Don’t ever look back When you’re better off Today The past So hard to forget The good times, the bad Love’s childish hope still Unmoved Create A new life story Turn around, go back Wounds are waiting for These hands

“Hand” by Gabriel Mascarenhas

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“Nature” by Shellsea Ramirez Fuentes

" Nature " by Andrea Ginder

Starry

skies in the night

fade away into the

brilliant hues of orange and pink

sunrise

Vibrant blue skies shift

as clouds form bringing with them

thunder and lightning

Coarse sand

meets ocean waves

water sprays as creatures

move in harmony in the deep

blue sea

Winter passing by

sunny skies melting layers

of snow bringing spring

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" Contrast " by Erik Parrish

Ignorance is the color of shadows Hearing your parents fight   A foreign restaurant scent A kid who hates their vegetables It’s a smile that won’t go away A swift fist heading for your chin Like a mosquito it’s annoying Understanding is the color of water Empathy in a conversation Mom starting dinner Taste of milk in cereal “Split” by Ashton Andersen Two adults talking about situations Feeling of a hand on the shoulder Happiness and comfort comes with understanding

“ Ode to the Night ” by Sadie Goodrich

Rays reaching across the mountain landscape,

The sun’s curious fingers stretching through darkness An orange glow glistening around the river bend

The signs of morning’s sweet caress.

Bright beams breaking through dusk, Reflecting in the frosty dew

It lingers on the blades below Enveloped in the warmth of the new.

Stars settle in their hiding places, For the night has lost its power

Daylights spreading like a wildfire Nature’s blossoming flower.

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“Sunset” by   Angel Heath

 

" My Family " by Benson Bernhardt    

 

Family, feels like:

a punch from a sibling or a loving and forgiving hug.

Smells like Grandma's cookies and a hot chocolate mug.

Sounds like: playful screams, and happy children.

Like a perfect picture taken in the chaos.

Tastes like homemade food.

Loving, growing,

This is:

home

“Family” by   Rebekah Desmond

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" Cabo " by Abby Walster

Cabo has my heart

The feel of the humidity hits you as you step outside

The smell of the salty ocean lingers in the air

You can hear the the palm trees getting

wrestling by the wind

and the waves nearby folding on top of the shore

You can almost taste the sea

The foreign food is amazing

Something like I've never experienced before

Laying on the beach playing games

The ones I love the most are here

And here is where the memories start

At The Weston.

“Turtle” by   Victor Rubio

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“Waterfall” by Shellsea Ramirez Fuentes  

“ Earth ” by Korbin Perkins

The beauty of earth

The beautiful bright blue sky

To the great big moon

Great from coast to coast

From the bottom of the sea

To the great mountains

The greatness of birth

To the sad horrific loss

There is still beauty

To the chirping birds

And the hooting owls

The beauty of earth

   

 

 

“Forest Trail” by Jared Mehr

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“Archer” by Baylee Dover

The Love of Achilles ” by Chloe Andes

The poets say

It was the beauty of Helen that

destroyed Troy.

The rage of Menelaus,

The hubris of Paris,

Or the cunning of Odysseus.

But it was love,

That brought Troy to its knees.

The poets say

it was the wrath of Achilles,

That swept over the fields,

But it was his broken heart,

That sent Troy to its ruin.

Because as the poets say,

Only love is stronger than hate.

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" The Magic of Winter " by Luis Hernadez It was a time of cheer and joy. It was a time of love. It was a

time of happiness. It was the time of giving. The beautiful town now monochrome white after slowly being engulfed by snow. Smells of freshly baked cookies and hot cocoa were on every corner, almost like they were tempting you to walk into the comfort of the shop. Sounds of people talking, cars beeping, bells ringing, and kids laughing all came into harmony to play that beautiful sound of a lovely city. It was with the magic of winter that I was brought to life. It is because of this magic and love that I can tell you this tale.

Joe was twirling and frolicking in the falling snow when she started to hear her mom cough again. It was the third coughing fit of the day and she was starting to get concerned. She quickly brushed the snow off her shoulder and rushed towards the house.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” Joe asked while peeking through the bathroom door.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Everything’s okay. Go back outside,” her dad replied.

Joe noticed the red stains on her mom’s shirt and decided it was best not to push her luck. She went back outside, but wasn't able to put herself back into that trance of joy.

“Y'know, they think I'm dumb, but I'm not. I'm almost 16 and they think I'm not mature enough to handle the truth," she ranted. “I’m-,” her tone changed, “-I’m not dumb. I can tell Mommy is getting worse. They say Mommy is gonna get better with the new treatment but they’ve been saying that for months.”

Snowballs slowly started hitting the tree, painting them with spots of white, and relieving Joe of her stress. Grunts of anger slowly turned into sighs of sadness, and snowballs in her hands slowly turned into the base of a snowman.

“You’ll listen to me right,” Joe asked with tears running down her face. “You’re gonna be there for me. You can be my friend.”

“Of course I’ll be your friend,” the snowman told her. “AAAAAAAAAA,” she screamed. “You can talk?” The snowman said nothing. Joe said nothing. It was a contest of

who would give in first, and Joe was not planning on losing. It wasn’t until an awkward five minutes passed by that Joe realized there were caterpillars crawling on her jacket.

“Caterpillars out in winter? That’s so weird,” she said in awe. The caterpillars began changing colors right in front of her.

They switched from a beautiful gradient to a soft pastel color, to a rainbow, and back to a soft blue.

“Woah,” she said shocked.

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“Joe, it’s bedtime,” her father yelled from the house. She knew it was time to send them back. The caterpillars softly

wiggled in her hand, spelling out “goodbye”. Joe rushed over to her dad but didn’t tell him what happened. She wished her parents goodnight and ran straight to her bed, and for once her mom didn’t have a coughing fit all night.

The next morning, Joe put on the clothes nearest to her and rushed out to see the snowman.

“Hey! How are you, Mr. Snowman? Can I call you Mr. Snowman? I’m calling you Mr. Snowman,” she exclaimed.

“Joe, sweetheart, what are you doing out here,” her mom asked very slowly, her voice sounding weak and tired.

“I was talking to my friend. His name is Mr. Snowman. Let’s go back inside Mom. You know you shouldn’t be outside,” Joe said.

“It’s okay sweetheart. Why don’t you make some real friends?” her mom asked with a light tone.

“I-” Joe paused, “-I don’t know. Would it make you happy?” Joe asked.

“The happiest person alive,” she responded. Her mom gave her a reassuring smile and began walking back home.

“If I make lots of friends will you stay with me Mo?,” Joe blurted out. “I just want to be with you, Mom.”

“Sweetheart! I’m not going anywhere! I’m just going back home. It’s cold,” her mother explained.

“That’s not-” Joe breathed in, “Okay Mom. Take care!” After her mom walked back in, Joe began to confide in the

snowman. Tears quickly began running down her cheeks as she poured her heart to the snowman. The snowman responded and tried to comfort her, but there is only so much comfort his pebbles-for-eyes could provide. Joe set herself on a mission. She convinced herself that if she made friends with people at school that she could help her mom. She was convinced that bringing friends over would be a Christmas gift that would help her mom feel better. The snowman simply looked at her and reassured her that she could do it.

Joe struggled at first. She was never really the social type. There were a couple of days of rejection and bullying. There were days where she would tell her mom that her day went great, and that she was making friends with the entire school. The lies simply kept piling and piling. The snowman tried to hold her and tell her everything would be okay, but his sticks-for-hands couldn’t provide any warmth. Joe was struggling and time was running out, but she eventually made a friend. Her name was Sarah, and Sarah was one of the nicest people Joe had met.

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It was Christmas morning and Joe couldn’t be any more excited. Sarah made her way to Joe’s house and they had coffee together.

“Where are your parents?” Sarah questioned. “Oh, she’s at her normal sessions. My dad takes her to the doctor

because she isn’t well enough to drive there and back on her own,” Joe responded.

“What’s wrong with her?” Sarah asked. “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with my mom. She’s gonna be okay.

Especially after she sees you,” Joe assured Sarah. Once her parents arrived, Joe was ecstatic to introduce her new

friend. They all got along and had an amazing Christmas. Sarah eventually had to go back home, but Joe was still happy. Her mom seemed happy and that made Joe happy.

Joe left to go thank the snowman for all the advice he gave. He simply smiled at her and told her that he knew she could make a friend by Christmas.

“Thanks for curing my momma,” Joe yelled as she hugged the snowman.

“I didn’t cure her. If she’s happy right now it’s because of what you did on your own. Good job. You don’t have to keep lying about having a friend anymore. You don’t have to lie anymore,” the snowman explained.

Joe thanked the snowman one more time and went back into the house to spend the rest of the day with her mom.

“See mom! I told you I had friends! Now please don’t leave me,” Joe said.

Joe’s mom pressed her into her hold and nodded with a sigh of relief, “I’ll never leave you.”

That was the last lie of the year, a lie as pure as the snow that coated the town. It was going to be a hard winter for Joe, but she wasn’t alone. She was accompanied by her new friend and her dad. This is Joe’s tale. Her story about her journey to healing. The story of her unforgettable Christmas.

“Girl” by Skylar Rogers     “Clouds” by

Shellsea Ramirez  Fuentes  

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“Holding Roses” By Jordyn Goates

“Rose” by Sophie Hafen

“ Mother ” by Anonymous

When I was 5, I moved to Utah My family struggled with money, to have a stable foundation Every night I saw my mother with messy hair, bags under her eyes, food stains on her clothes, with the smell of fish Seeing her with work clothes made me sad and worried Working overtime every single day Coming home to cook food and clean the house Sleeping late and waking up early, to do the same thing, over and over again Until one night I heard a noise, a muffled sobbing child I went to look at who was crying, I saw my mom in the corner of the room Curled up into a ball I asked her what was wrong And all she said was, “Nothing, just go back to bed. In the morning, I'll make your favorite breakfast, ok?” I nodded and went back to my room I laid flat on my bed and waited until the sobbing of my mother’s stopped My mom sacrificed time Just for me

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“ What Matters ” by Ethan Barfield

The Emperor continued his legacy

With a soft spoken boy named Chi.

Chi cared not of ruling his father’s Dynasty,

But instead enjoyed playing his little wooden flute.

He played when the sun rose,

He played when the sun set,

And he played all in between.

He played in grief,

He played in joy.

He played to fill himself and

others with glee.

Once he was bound to be heir,

He declined his father’s throne. “City Streets” by Quin Palmer

The Emperor was upset

And had his son beaten, tortured, and imprisoned for life.

But despite the rage and hate,

The smile never left Chi’s face.

His mouth never opened to object his fate.

 

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" My Service Savior " by Allison Carmona

She helps me up

when I fall down

She makes me smile

when I have a frown

She alerts me with her paw

When in public,

people watch in awe

She can bring me my keys,

my phone, or my shoes

There’s nothing she can’t do

She saves my life everyday

A very good girl, she is indeed

I need her, she needs me  

“Dog” by Vivian Rubio She’s my service dog,

the hero I’ll always need.

 

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“ Her ” by Andrea Larson

He talks to the moon

All through the night

Even if she is tired

She provides him light

He looks to her for comfort

And she holds him tight

He sees her beauty

But she underestimates her own sight

Her soul is pure

Her mind is bright

An angel in the sky

He loves her with all his might

       “Flowers” by Shellsea   Ramirez Fuentes  

 

 

 

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“ A Selfish Wish ” by Luis Hernandez

My world has flipped.

A world of colors, now one color.

Different shades, all carrying one feeling.

A monochrome city, a perpetual emotion.

Flowers have lost their scent,

Stripped of all their beauty, happiness, identity.

Tastes have been diluted,

Only faintly are they present.

The worst part? Only you have the solution,

You are the solution.

Up there in those clouds.

In your new home…

I just long to visit you up there.

So I sit here with a selfish wish,

In which you’re here with me again.

But I know I can't linger on anymore,

So I wait for everything to return with time,

And I try my best to say goodbye

“Boy” by Alicia Garcia  

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" Ghost Train " by Michelle Humphrey My beanbag chair in the corner of my room is the best spot for

this. Relax and read a book while I rest my feet on the corner of the windowsill. It’s 10:45 but I’m hoping mom just goes to bed so I can finish this chapter before bed. I was wrong.

“Lily, it’s time for you to brush your-hey! Get your dirty feet off the wall. You’re supposed to take your shoes off when you get home.” Mom is kind of a germaphobe. She scrubs the walls every Saturday, steams the floors every Tuesday, it’s a whole process.

“Okay, sorry.” “Well, chop chop, your teeth won’t brush themselves.” You’d think mom would just assume that I’d take care of myself

and brush my teeth considering I’m 14, but I guess not. I’m her only child and I think that’s why she babies me.

“Can I at least finish this chapter first? I have only 3 pages left.”

“Well alright honey, but you need to get to bed right after. You need your sleep before school tomorrow.”

“Okay, Goodnight.” “Goodnight sweety.” I kicked off my shoes that I didn’t take off after getting back

from Auggie's house. His name is August but I call him Auggie; he hates it. We were playing Legend of Zelda on his Nintendo 64.

I get up and open the window before getting back to my book. I live in Missouri which gets pretty humid, but tonight, it’s cool and foggy. I like the musky smell it brings into my room. I close my eyes and feel like I’m in the middle of a forest, feeling the dirt ground beneath me.

As I sit back down in my beanbag chair, I hear a faint sound coming from outside, almost like a horn. Who is playing the trombone this late at night? I jump right up pressing my face against my window screen trying to see through the fog. It could be old man Jenkins down the street playing his ancient trombone. Maybe, he’s getting old.

I almost forgot that past the river behind my house, there is an abandoned train track. Did the city decide to use it again? There’s a lot of bent and banged up steel all along the tracks, so that can’t be it. The train would crash.

I hear the horn-like sound again but a bit louder. There is no way a trombone can be that loud. I guess they must have fixed the train tracks. But I have to know for sure. Mom is probably asleep already, she falls asleep faster than I’ve ever known. She is like a hibernating bear, nothing can disturb her when she is sleeping.

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I take the screen off my window, still being cautious, I don’t want to take any chances if my mom is still awake. I lean the screen against the wall outside the house, quietly setting it in the grass and dirt. I throw my legs over the windowsill and jump out aiming for the soft dirt in an attempt of silence. As my feet hit the ground, I feel my shoes sink in the mud under me. Definitely not soft dirt, just straight up mud. At least it was quiet. I’m going to have to clean my shoes when I get back. One extra thing to do so there’s no evidence of me leaving my room. Great.

I turn around and slowly close the window before my adventure of the night. I run across the field between my house and the trees. There’s no reason to, it just gives me an adrenaline rush like nothing else, running away from the comfort of my home. Mom has never caught me before, but if she’s in my room right now, I want to make this adventure worth it.

I am under the blanket of trees and over the sound of rushing water, I hear the train again. I think to call Auggie to join me, but I’m already almost there. I could miss it. He won’t mind. It’s getting louder, and I can see the river ahead of me. I jump across the giant rocks, that leads to my childhood hideout. I’ll have to revisit it on the way back. I sprint as fast as I can through the rest of the trees until a field bursts open, the grass is longer here; I like the feeling of it brushing against my legs. This was my favorite place to explore when I was seven, when I wasn’t tall enough to see over the grass.

Cutting right through the middle of the tall grass is the train tracks. I walk up to them to get a closer look. Rusty, grimey train tracks swerve and wiggle as far as I can see. I start walking on them one foot in front of the other like when I was younger.

An ear curdling bawl comes from the train. It’s getting much closer. I can’t see much past the trees where they get close to the tracks. Suddenly, I’m blinded by a giant spotlight. Then I realize it’s not getting any closer. At least I don’t think it is. I take a couple steps toward it. Not that it does anything, it’s still at least a football field away from me. The light is just hovering in mid-air. Trains don’t stop, they can’t, at least the trains that I know of. My hair stands up on my neck just thinking about it. They can’t stop that fast.

The silence really settles in. This can’t be right. Maybe I should go back home and forget about all of this. I am about to leave when a spurt of steam starts oozing out of the train. I can feel my shoulders creeping up towards my head, the muscles squeezing against my attempt to relax. I can hear a long shriek of the train. The wheels

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start to turn. I’m frozen in my tracks. My heart is racing and my legs are stiff. I try every way I can to move them but it’s not working. Is this a dream? I’ve definitely had a dream about not being able to run, while giving as much effort to move as possible. That is what this is.

The light is getting closer. I’m squinting so hard my eyes are almost closed, it’s so bright. I put my hands in front of my face trying to block the blinding light as it comes closer. It keeps coming, speeding up 1,000,000 miles per second. The train is rumbling and I can feel it in my bones. I close my eyes before it’s upon me.

The wind blows in my hair moving straight up as if I’m right next to a helicopter about to land. My ears start ringing. The train horn, in a constant blow, slowly fades away in the distance. I open my eyes.

I’m still on the tracks. I can move my legs now, but they are a little unsteady. My body still seems intact. What was that? I look at the trees and they are the same old trees as they were before. The calm silence of the night that usually makes me feel at peace, now makes my stomach queasy. I look down and my hands are shaking as if I’m in the middle of an earthquake. I bring up my head hesitantly, trying to see where the train could have gone. I can’t see it anywhere. Where did it go?

                   

 “Meadow” by Shauna Stevenson  

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“ Trapped ” by Caleb Slater

You're in a white room, no windows or doors,

Scratch marks are visible, where you tried to dig through the floors.

What would you do in that situation?

When you're locked in a room, put on probation.

Do you scream your heart out, and hope somebody hears you?

Bang on the walls and gnaw at them too?

Punch as hard as you can until you're in need of some stitches?

Or do you simply give up and relent to your mind’s wishes?

No, that’s not it, life has some meaning,

Outside that one room is a house that could use some cleaning,

Outside that one room is a warm welcoming meal,

People who see you, hear you, and know how you feel.

They too have been trapped, locked in that room,

They know how it is to feel like you're in a tomb.

If they somehow got out then you can too,

Although at this moment, you haven’t got a clue.

So do what you can, bang the walls and scream.

Because someday you’ll get out of this terrible, hopeless dream .

   

“Fragmented” by   Josh Sargent  

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“ Fear ” by Taya Anderson

“Who’s next?” my teacher asks.

I look down hoping to avoid their eyes.

“Good, don’t look up, don’t volunteer,” says the voice in my ears,

“you’ll probably mess up.”

I look up to the towering coaster high in the sky.

I hear the screams as people go loop-de-loop.

I glance back down at my feet.

“Don’t. You might get hurt,” the voice taunts me.

I watch as everyone pairs up for an assignment around me.

I peer at a girl, but the voice snarls,

“You're going to ask her to be your partner? She’ll likely say no.”

And I end up doing it alone.

The question on the paper scrambles every time I look at it.

I try to think it through, but it makes me irritated

I’m about to raise my hand, but the voice keeps my hands glued to

my side.

“Do you see anyone else raising their hands? You’ll surely look

stupid.”

At the dance, I see the gorgeous smile and I melt.

I start to walk forward to ask for a dance,

But it pulls my hair and I stay in place.

“Don’t be a fool, you think he’ll say yes?”

This voice, this creature, it pulls me around like a puppet.

I do as it tells me and I want to make it proud.

It makes me stay in my comfort zone.  

It looms over me and ensures that I don’t do anything I regret.

34

“Skull” by Emily Contreras

“ Poetry ” by Jared Mehr

Perfectly placed points, painstakingly placed,

pointing at pain-filled, problematic particles of personalities,

put together,in part, to produce a pleasant personification.

The piecing together of pieces of peaceful perspectives promotes a plethora of possible practicalities to permeate probable panic.

35

“ Our Future ” by Chloe Andes

Government

Uniting around one goal:

Antipathy

Making yours

Into mine

Biodiversity, shredded

All for the sake of income

We will not rest

“Secrets” by Andrea Ginder until the kids are not alright.

The world’s dreamers,

Uniting around one goal:

Empathy

Making mine

Into yours

The inequality of ambition, shredded

We will not rest

Until the kids are alright.

“Girl in the clouds” by Korbin Burton

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“ For a Friend ” by Jared Mehr You play the guitar I love the sound it makes You showed me your song Your story And taught me to sing it in 11 keys But you hid the last key I almost found it Stumbling, tumbled into it Fumbled it Now someone else holds The key to your heart Whenever I made you happy “Friends” by  You beamed back at me Aubreyanna Mahoney A grin that masked your conclusions And showed only sweet acceptance I knew I was worth your time  When you opened your secrets to me Over a chicken sandwich and waffle fries Your clear, blue eyes Always found a way To make me tell you “I love you” Through mine You love flowers “Friends” by I’ve never seen you so happy Bryan Amistron As when we jokingly poked them In each other’s hair And I still have those orange petals That fell from your wrist The night of that dance The night you made me feel alive You love stories So we wrote a few to share You stained my heart deeply With your strange ideas I entered your world often And happily paid rent It was all about you in the end

37

You love talking Endless sentences between laughs I prefer silent words From my fingers to your heart Through 88 ivories I like your hair down But you’d always put it up In a quick, untidy bun You’d never try To look your best for me Because you knew I’d see past it all And stick around anyways You knew I was yours Sometimes you’d cry “Friends” by   And I’d be there Nancy Benitez When you needed me most And how I’d cry with you Until we both smiled Until your sunshine mocked life’s clouds again I was there to see it all Happy times, sad times  Pictures or no pictures “Friends” by  I was there for you Renata Ramirez Times have changed The wind has blown Over and over in my mind For 2 years Memories brush my face Like a cool breeze A subtle reminder That it’ll be colder tonight That the moon will smile As she scornfully does She has the stars But you and I have lost ours At least for now

38

I’m tired I’ve given so much You haven’t noticed You haven’t seen My patience whittling down to nothing  And you are different Your past is my present Haunting me from time to time A faint whisper in the back of my mind When a car passes by That looks like yours When someone says your name A twinge of pain inside my brain That’s who you are I’m finished I’ve said all I’ve come up with “Flip” by At every wrong time Samuel Johnson Made myself into a pushover, a sap But it wasn’t all bad When I did get it right I’d see the gleam in your eyes That every man prays will never die “Roadtrip” by We got so close Julizza Olea Cedillo  I thought we’d never end We could take any bend You were my best friend We’d embrace forever Hearts pressed together And we never let go Never let go... One night My heart on my sleeve  I had brought you a gift A fresh, warm loaf of banana bread Something to help you understand The warmth of my love For you I came down the starlit street With great hope whistling through my mind Of turning things back To April’s faith September’s dates And December’s embrace

 

39

But my footsteps fell short  My pace suddenly stopped My heart ceased singing And love held its breath There in front of me A stranger’s car Two people in view Under the stars One was you The other one kissed you Under those stars The same stars Where we began I watched helplessly Breathlessly Helplessly As my trembling hands Lost your key “Band” by Raul Martinez Will I find it again? I cannot say But perhaps you know Someday... Someday it will be April again I’ll play melodies As flowers on your doorstep You’ll feel the breeze Strum a guitar into a sunny afternoon We’ll sing together Laugh together And I won’t look over my shoulder Days will drift by without a care at all We’ll watch the sunset every night You’ll enter my world too And you’ll see me With newer, bluer eyes As I pull out the elastic And let your sandy hair flow down to your shoulders

Someday    

40

“ Facade ” by Rebekah Desmond “Faces” by McKare Wong

What is a facade? It’s a false face

A fabricated front Something forged and fictitious

At least

That’s what the world says

A facade hides the grotesque But what is truly hidden? The ugly or the beautiful

I know

The mother wears her mask

Her children do too A father hides in his suit

Trying not to reveal a thing

The world Creates a cliche For everything That no one can achieve But most think all reach it When honestly

“Flowers and Lemons” by Lexi Wheeler  

What’s hidden is charming Yet it’s never discussed

It’s the most precious part Of everyone’s life Or it should be

41

“Red Hair” by Olivia Ence  

" Emily Hue " by Benson Bernhardt Emily E. Hue was not born in the wrong time, however, she

was born in the wrong place. She had a gene that is common on Earth, but on Hatre it was that of prophecy. The prophecy stated that a boy would be born with red hair. It also said that the child would be the chosen one. It may all seem ridiculous to you, and it was ridiculous to a big portion of Hatre, but for different reasons. It was unbelievable to the people of Hatre because it was impossible to have any hair color but purple, and no dyes or bleaches could ever change that.

There were two newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Hue. They had a son and named him Jeffrie. Seven years after Jeffrie was born, Mrs. and Mr. Hue had their next child. When Emily was born she had the gene. The doctor that helped Mrs. Hue give birth gasped when he saw the baby.

Emily clearly had red hair. Now the doctor was a nice man, but what really saved the Hues was the fact that he was a smart one as well. He knew that people would think instead of being the chosen one they would say she was Satan’s servant.

42

After assisting the birth of Emily, Mr. Stevens helped the Hue family get out of the hospital without being seen. He got a dark blue baby hat and put it on Emily’s head.

Emily’s parents were very careful from that day on. They hardly ever let Emily leave the house, and when they did, Emily was always wearing at least one hat. The Hue family lived a stressed but happy life, until one day when Emily was ten years old she was discovered. A photographer was looking for a story when he saw Emily through a window. The man was shocked and took a picture of Emily, and sold it to a TV station. The reporter became famous, and the child of blaspheme was hated. Mr. and Mrs. Hue saw it on the news and knew some people might react.

They did three weeks later. Emily heard a weird noise from outside. She opened the

blinds, despite her parents telling her to never open them because,“Someone might see you.”

Emily knew that really meant,“Someone might see your hair.” Suddenly, there were a bunch of men on their lawn. They

carried cans filled with gasoline. They spilled liquid from the cans onto the grassy lawn. One man shouted for all the others to get back as he dropped a lighter onto the lawn. Emily watched as the flames went up into the air. Her body screamed but her mind still focused on the fire. Her mother and father got up when they heard the scream. They ran out the back door and made it out with some time to spare.

The house had only partially burned down when they came back the next day. Emily’s parents knew the only way to keep her safe was to send her away. But where would they send a child that’s hated by most of the world? They did find such a place. Mrs. Hue’s mother had a friend who knew a church leader, who knew a man in a cabin, who knew a guy that could help. The man’s great-great-great-great-grandmother was a witch. The grandmother had left behind many family heirlooms, one of which was a silver painted, three foot wide wooden ring. Granted it did look kind of like an oversized christmas wreath, but it could work some magic.

The Hue family went to the man’s house and he let them in leading them to the basement. The man set the wooden ring on

43

the cold basement stone. It glowed softly with a golden light despite its silver color.

The man turned to Emily and asked,“Are you ready?” Emily kissed and hugged each of her parents in turn. All

of them were crying as they hugged. Emily’s last words to her parents were,“Good bye.”

She stepped into the center of the ring and vanished.  

    “Bird Girl” by Mia Adolpho   

“ Lose Me ” by Paola Vasquez Serrano

For you I was the love of your life

Though I did not support this crown

I still took it with me

I don’t want to chase to your chains

But I don’t want to be left alone with your remains.

What did you put inside my veins?

You made me addicted to your painful ways.

You were everything my heart contained.

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“ Young Love ” by Sofia Cuara “Content” by Hayleigh Dick  

We have late night calls,

Laughter echoing through the walls,

Many miles separate us,

But we don’t make a fuss,

Talking about our future,

Wishing for it to arrive sooner,

Your smile is brighter than the moon,

Daydreaming of you all afternoon,

This is all so new, loving you,

you’re sweet as can be,

My heart has been locked but you have

the key,

For you I’d do anything,

You’re special to me, way more than many think.

     “Buildings” by    Shauna Stevenson  

45

“ The Ugly Duckling ” by Tamarantha Wellhoff

I am the ugly duckling

The odd one out

Different from everyone

Scared of the future

Not knowing if I'm going the right direction

The rain falls and I'm left out of the group,

shivering in the cold

Others have their future planned, their goals

I'm just here, different and alone

Days pass quickly, no chance of slowing down

I'm falling behind, unable to catch up to everyone else

Crying out for help

But I hear no reply

One day I wake up from a cold stormy night

To find a rainbow and a clear blue sky

Beautiful swans surrounding me

Including me and I come to realize

I'm the powerful goose, with a different goal

“Nature” by Angel Heath  

46

“ Candy Shop ” by Alexandria Edwards

The lollies at the front window

Tempts children in for the candy treats

Bright lights and a rainbow color scheme

Reese’s, cotton candy, rainbow sweets

Taffy, Gumdrops, peppermint

Jelly Beans, Sour patch, Warheads

Gummy worms, M&M’s, Twix

Nerds, Lifesavers, Gobstoppers “Child” by Julia Call

Lemonheads, Skittles, Butterfingers  

Pop Rocks, Airheads, Toxic waste

Hi-Chews, Fun Dip, Swedish Fish

Just remember to brush your teeth and

visit your dentist after this sweet trip

“ Problem People ” by Kamree Finley

Unforgiving pasts

Broken kids with nothing in common

Quite will always be violent

Evil scents swirl with every exhale

Cars that take us to better places

All the disasters gathered

Pain slowly dissolved with every inhale

Once and a while is now everyday

Rules are meant break

Time seems to never stand still

Mistakes are what we’re known for

All we want is to be alright  

 

“Mind” by Emma Chuter

47

  “Emerald Eye” by   Shauna Stevenson  

“ 2020 ” by Taya Waggoner

bye

if i were to leave tonight the stars would still fade

the sun would still rise over the mountain’s height and the seasons would still change

wounds would heal with time and i would be replaced and that is not a crime

it is just the way life goes this decision was not hard to make

so do not shed tears i did it for the world’s sake not that anyone would care

the doctor would say i’m too young to die my parents would be relieved

people at school would just sigh and my friends would have less of a burden

it all makes sense to me to free up space

for a person who wants to be living goodbye to all those i loved

have an amazing life

48

" Storm ” by Dainian Lovewell

Sound of a mac goes click clack

Typing in the dark

Silhouette of his black back

Every few moments sip sip

And ice clanking against a glass

Followed buy a refreshing gasp

A faint tisk blows in the wind

Computer monitors buzzing lighting up his face

With every possible movement creaks the old floor

The chair just getting settled in

Raindrops roar against the roof

Lighting ravages through the air and crackles the sky

I didn't want to say goodbye

            

“Light and Dark” by Kate Gaskell  

49

“ Cuz ” by Kasia Watson

It started with a him and a her and a me camping, laughing,

singing along to the radio on Sunday drives. It was BBQ’s, and family

reunions. The sky was big, the trees and the flowers were my friends,

and the world revolved around us and two birds, a fish, and a frog.

There was a guy in the background that I called “uncle” ‘cuz he was

only biology.

Suddenly it was a her and a me sitting, crying, fumbling to get

through the day. It was mac and cheese from a blue box, and sitting on

the front porch waiting for a him to come home. The sky was heavy and

branches on the trees were bare and the world stopped revolving and it

was silent ‘cuz the two birds, a fish and the frog were living in the

flower garden in boxes. Now there were two guys in the background, one

biology and the other just gone.

Now it was a him and a her, but not a me, ‘cuz I hated him.

Fighting, screaming, planning to run away. It was Twinkies, ice cream

and fake smiles. The sky was black and the trees grew wild and it was

only a matter of time ‘til he blew. And there was a transgender cat

named Grace and her girlfriend Steve.‘Cuz I didn’t want any more boys

in my foreground.

Soon it was a her and a me aloning, hurting, trying hard not to

look back. It was take-out curry in front of the TV. The sky was

cloudy and the trees were blooming and there were store bought flowers

and Grace purred like a helicopter in my lap while Steve cuddled close

to my feet. There were three guys in the background: one biology, one

just gone and the last one kicked to the curb ‘cuz a her and a me

wouldn’t stand for that.

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Then it was a me and not a her struggling, sweating bullets,

pushing myself ‘cuz I had to be perfect. It was salad and water and

self-punishment. The sky was blue, the trees were leafy and the birds

sang, but I couldn’t hear it, ‘cuz the world was spinning too fast,

and Steve was gone, just like a man. Biology died, one was still gone,

the other mostly forgotten and there was a her in the background.

After a while it was almost forgiveness and a her and a me,

playing, dancing, singing Broadway songs on the way to the theater. It

was the Cheesecake Factory, Disneyland and week long camping trips.

The sky was high and flowers speckled fancy dresses. Grace the cat had

a friend rescued from the trash. And the world revolved around an us

and the background guys lingered, ‘cuz the scars never go away.

Now it is resilience and a me, learning, growing, stretching,

trying new things, singing a solo in the school play. It is olives and

feta cheese from Greece and spreading my wings preparing to jump into

the kaleidoscope sky with the tangled trees at my feet. And Grace the

cat and a her cheering me on, and the world revolves around

understanding others that are hurting, desperate and losing and I

reach out to them. ‘Cuz that is what you do when you heal and life

goes on that way.

  

“Orange You Glad”   by Kaidyn Anderson  

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" The Love of Reading " by Katie Langford

Novels

Grey rainy days

Curling up in bed

Patiently waiting to be read

Dive in adventures that are not your own

Transform into the characters

Staying up all night long

Turning pages

Bookworm

“Road to Heaven” by Jared Mehr

Romance

Falling in love

Laughing until it hurts

Exploring magical worlds

Slaying dragons and saving princesses   

Experiencing someone's life

I don't want it to end

Books have power

The end

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“ Blank Page ” by Charlee Cannon

It’s a one-way staring contest.

The page, expectantly, stares at me

And I, dazedly, stare at nothing at all,

Utterly lost in flavorless thoughts.

The page summons the wind,

Allowing it to course through its

undeviating, blue veins,

Making the page ripple like a flag

signaling to start. “The Primaries”

It’s an attempt of the page’s to draw by Topher Belmont

the thoughts from my mind.

Correction: another fruitless attempt.

The page, marred by indents where words once resided,

Unabatingly encourages me to write,

Even after all the pain I inflicted upon it.

The page still has hope for me,

yet mine has vanished.

Some say a blank page is endless opportunities.

But I say a blank page is the end

Because that’s all it ever is in the end.

Just a blank page, with terrible scars

to remind it what could have been--

What never will be.

 

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" The Monster of Midnight " by Sadie Goodrich

The silent sounds of the night creep into my thoughts. Whispers

of long forgotten dreams flood my mind. Tossing and turning, the

covers suffocating me in their tight grip. Holding me down,

their dominant nature keeping me captive.

The doubt within is relentless. A feeling I

have come to know quite well. It slithers

through my body like poison in my

bloodstream. The numbness fighting against

its evil attack. Although it can’t stop the

way my breath catches in my throat and the

uneasiness that flutters in my chest.

Memories of past failures cast a shadow

among my thoughts. Call the disappointment

that continues haught me day by day. My ears ache with

exhaustion as the thumping sound grows louder by the second. I

squeeze my eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to drown out the

chaos, but to no appeal. No matter how hard I try I can’t escape

the torment that has now invaded my soul. For it is something

that can not be removed. It's the shadow of my own making. That

has woven itself into every ounce of my being. A force that

can’t be tamed. “Monster” by Maxwell Tholen  

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“ Basketball Sounds ” by Katie Langford “XXXTenacaion” by Shanoby Marin-Diez

The pounding ball being dribbled, Drums banging to the boom of the fight song, Cheerleaders pom-poms bouncing to the beat,

The sound of the ball boinging On and off the rim,

The loud buzzer ringing, The sharp swish of the net,

The piercing cut of the ref’s whistle screeching through sticky air,

Coaches yelling, Popcorn popping, Fans cheering,

Intensifying excitement grows as the  humid gym goes quiet in anticipation,

Only leaving the small and silent huffs of players breathing in and out,

A single thud against the backboard, The crowd erupting in sounds of relief and joy.

 

“Ode to a Pickle (Based on a True Story)” by Josh Woodsworth It was the fourth quarter, With 20 seconds to go. We were down by a touchdown And needed a throw. We jumped for joy as the ball was thrown, And the pass was caught, We won the game. But when I jumped, I knocked you out, And you were gone, Without a doubt. I loved you pickle And I’m sad you’re gone, But now I’ll just buy another one.

“Girl” by Jerica Olsen

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" Nature " by Lucas Gorgoglione

Trees so green stand tall,

Standing below the blue sky,

Til’ they hear timber

Sunrise, beautiful,

The sun shines all day until,

“Flowers” by Carley Reid Sunset, beautiful

Clear night skies, bright stars, “Forest” by Shauna Stevenson

Until a humid morning,

And fog blocks the view

Summer,

Hot, at the beach,

Feels very refreshing,

Then comes the fall breezes and then,

Winter

   

“Colors” by Kiera Friedel

“Garden” by Ava Lyman  

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" Zion National Park " by Kari Cheesman

I drive past the busy stores selling their goods, Sparkling necklaces and small colorful postcards. The smell of hot dogs and Navajo taco things,

With the sweet smell of chocolate and butterscotch, In the giant ponderosas mixed with the pinyon pine.

When I finally enter the gate, I step out of the hot red Honda, Legs sore from the trip, immediately hearing

the beautiful sound of blue jays, Combined with the sound of June bugs buzzing.

The towering walls watch over guarding the area, With an angel on one,

While people walk toward trailheads and bike onward toward them as well. The whispering winds call to me,

telling me of the stories of the past, All the while I tell of my journey through the canyons

and the adventures I would tell in the future, All the same, time I hear the voices of the past, Gasp and awe at the parts in my story that they do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

”Sunset” by Jazzmin Coleman  

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“ No Pulse ” by Brandon Salazar

Before the clouds turned sad,

the sun would admire us

all day long without pause.

If the clock could turn back,

And the sun would run back where it came from.

Change is required.

If only you’d experience how sad those clouds were.

Each day after grew darker and darker until nothing was visible.

Love was like a leech to her.

They wouldn’t stop until there was no pulse,

But she kept on going

without worry.

The pain only got worse from

there for the two of us.

Both ends of the stick we were,

Until it snapped.

Leaving my end broken,

and hers

without a pulse.

  “Death” by   Taya Waggoner   

 

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“Turtle” by Lucy Deland  

“ Kromlnite Watch ” by Ben Seamons

In the dark it stalks,

When the world is asleep it roams,

Six small white eyes scan the surroundings,

The skin is a deep red crimson,

Covered in armor black and slick,

A low growl issues from its throat,

For the creature has bad eyesight,

But is sees with its ears,

It flies away to distant caves,

Danger is gone the thing has left,

In the silence after it is gone,  

I ponder how lucky I am to be alive.

“Before the   by Jared  Day”   Mehr  

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“Buildings” by Heidi Smith Windowsill” by Abby Demille  

“ Home ” by Landon Harris

It’s not always a place

It’s a feeling The feeling of comfort and acceptance It could be from a significant other

Or you're family Or you're friends

Whatever makes you feel like you

No one can tell you what you should Or shouldn’t do

You have control of personal decisions If you really like that girl, shoot your shot If that sport makes you feel like a rockstar

Work your butt off for it.

Home is where you choose to be So choose wisely.

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“The Park ” by Cristian Galdamez

I lie in the cool sharp grass. The summer heat has me sweating.

I hear the birds chirping in the trees. The colors of the sunset paint a vivid picture of the future.

A delightful picnic. I hear endless conversations

that have now become memories. I can feel the world around me.

Immense beauty in a manmade world. Flies and wasps zoom around.

Only to be heard by us and no one else. All of this, taken for granted.

I treasure every moment. Our final days have come.

“Pink Twilight” by Jared Mehr       

“ Taking The Green ” by Kaden Crouch

Life is like starting your engine Taking the green flag not knowing what’s ahead

Making the first lap with many more ahead Getting into problems and having to stop and fix them

Working with others to benefit each other Making friends and enemies along the way

With many repeats you fight through and make them better Awaiting that final turn with the help of the ones that care

Getting the checkered flag and celebrating with others You look back on what has happened and hope to do it again

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“ The Octopus ” by Tamaranta Wellhoff

Dark swirls of the ocean

Backlit by blue,

Green waves a top,

Pearly translucent clouds

Dotted around

The dark shadow reaches,

It’s long tentacles trailing

The crescent moon rises,

Reaching ever higher

The shadow stretches

In curiosity, in confusion,

In total anger

This low hanging moon

Causing tides to rise ever faster

The tentacles reaches further and further

And grabs ahold of the moon

Pulling in vexation, in frustration

Emerging from the dark

Depths of the sea

The once sleeping octopus

Rises triumphantly

In a battle against the moon itself

 “Purple” by Katie Langford  

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“Poet” by Jayden Jeff   “Tess” by Savanna Desmond   

“ Change ” by Taya Waggoner

do you ever feel that compressing feeling in your chest where a thousand words just mean do your best

when you know you're not the person people wanted you to be and even my parents

i know that they want to change me i don’t blame them

most of the time i want to change me too there’s so many things about me

that i wish people never knew the fact that i’m angry

that my depression affects my personality i just wish that i could trust people

and people could trust me life doesn’t work that way

so the sun sets and rises on another day

life is to be lived with valleys and peaks with happiness and tear stained cheeks

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This is the prologue of the story currently being written by the SCHS Writer’s Guild. Every Tuesday and Thursday we meet in Mrs. Pulsipher’s room during lunch

to plan and write The Iron Sky story. Please visit https://www.wattpad.com/story/206396597-the-iron-sky

to continue reading!

The Iron Sky Prologue by Jasmine Pulsipher

I forgot the name for a spider. That is when I knew it was time.

I spend most of my day sequestered in the modern side of the citadel, the seat of my family’s reign for almost 500 years. It is all glass and chrome, efficiency and productivity. Hours are filled with meetings and paperwork and by-the-minute decisions. This is the nature of the monarchy: endless mundane work to keep the fragile empire from crumbling. But the nights? Those are mine.

My evening routine usually consists of hours reading worn leather-bound books in my grandmother’s hand-woven chair. The minute I cross from the neoteric hallway into the musty drawing room, I sigh and roll my shoulders, shrugging off the formal structured facade that is my job and my crown. My soul, however, thrives in the quiet warm spaces of the ancient part of the compound.

A servant closes the heavy oak doors, leaving behind a tray of my favorite lemon tarts. That’s the moment I notice movement in the corner of the fireplace. The onyx shape gracefully crawls down a string of web, like a dangerous dangling silk dancer. But I can’t remember what to call it. My mind performs a magic trick -- the answer is there, and suddenly it isn’t. The name is simply gone. I stare until the arachnid slitters beneath the wood pile.

A thread has snapped. How many threads have broken before I ever noticed? I knew this was coming. I was warned long ago. So why am I so scared? There is nothing to be done but prepare and pray it all goes according to plan.

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I meander along the corridor, deliberately studying the panels of portraits I usually ignore. This is the tapestry of my forebears, the mighty House of Shippen who have ruled this land since Armageddon, when rocks fell from the sky and transformed the world.

There are many stories scrawled on the walls of this castle.

Except for mine. I have no heir. I am the last of a lineage born from strength and stubbornness. I am the product of centuries of warring people and philosophical battles, none of which I have any real control or power over. I must remain neutral between the Industristialists and the Naturals, lest our world collapse into chaos. All I have is my library, my holodisk of pre-armageddon music, and Ferdinand, my favorite companion, friend, and flying partner.

He greets me as I reach the atrium I had built next to my chambers. The warm breath from Ferdinand’s nostrils blows on my face as I stroke his crimson neck, remembering to be careful of the scale by his right ear he injured the previous afternoon. It’s still difficult to believe they didn’t have dragons before the change, but I have seen the documents. That explosion changed the very fabric of the world. And the fabric of my brain. I knew the sickness would eventually find me. It is the payment for my gift , I remind myself as I lean against his massive shoulder.

Ferdinand senses my memories. That morning sixty years earlier when I found his discarded shell in the forest behind the royal castle. I heard him first in my mind. Soft gentle sounds cried in my skull as he shook out his wings for the first time. Then I listened, not with ears but with my innocent seven-year-old soul. “I am scared,” he whispered. So I sent a timid reply through this new connecting thread. “I am here” I thought. The small red creature at my feet smiled.

We have not spent a day apart since. Fernidnand can read my thoughts, and I his; he can sense my mood better than I can. This is what makes us special but will also be my downfall. The mental toll is peeling away my memories and thoughts one thin thread at a time until I am left an incoherent husk, like my grandmother before me.

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Eventually I sit down at my father’s oil-stained desk. I grab the paperweight from the pile of reports of child raids in Woodland and protest fires in Steeltown. I roll the familiar round glass ball in my left palm, a habit learned in the training of my youth. This trinket inherited from my father, and his father before him, has seen many monarchs stare into its depth, where a small molten piece of metal slumbers. I take a steadying breath and open the bottom right drawer to find the envelope I have never wanted to open. Written in my father’s precise handwriting is my name. Slowly I read through the contents, the instructions sounded out decades before for this very moment.

Sharply I call for a servant to prepare Ferdinand as I shove the repacked envelope, a few essential items, and a favorite book into my flying case. I rush to the door before remembering to grab the paperweight, now the most important relic in the entire archaic building. As a hurry down the stairs to the atrium, I make a mental list of tasks to accomplish: inform senate magistrates, send the declaration, hide the artifact, study the prophecy, and try to stay lucid long enough to succeed.

I am Empress Yasmin Acampora Coltrane Shippen and it is time to end this feud, unite my people, and save the world before all is lost.

         

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“Summertime” by    Quin Palmer  

Dear Canyons Reader,    Now, I’d like to take a moment to thank everyone who helped to put this beautiful magazine  

together. First, I’d like to thank my staff. They are truly wonderful and hardworking. They have so  much talent and none of this could’ve been possible without any of them. Thank you for sacrificing your  time and energy to put this together.  

Next I’d like to thank EVERYONE who submitted! Everyone’s work was amazing and I’m glad we  had the opportunity to have it published in our magazine. As I was reading and looking at all the  artwork, I felt inspired and blessed to have so many talented peers. I hope you never stop doing what  you love.  

Thank you to our amazing principal, Mr. Brooks! We know it’s your last year at Snow Canyon  and we’re very glad that you were so willing to help us with this magazine. I’d also like to thank our  wonderful art teacher, Mrs. Sherman, for helping us get all the beautiful artwork. Thank you to Mr.  Judd for helping us gather some great photography as well. Also, a huge thank you to Mr. Kreyling for  all his help and assistance.  

Last, but definitely not least, thank you to our amazing advisor and teacher, Mrs. Pulsipher.  She’s such an amazing person and a big help. This magazine couldn’t have been published without  her. Thank you!  

Again thank you to everyone for your amazing talents and skills. Also, thank you, Reader, for  reading our magazine:)   Best wishes,  

Taya Anderson  

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Canyons Staff in Quarantine         

         Front Cover Art by   Katie Langford

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