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Dream Catchers

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Dream Catchers

Dream Catchers An Anthology

Written by: Union Creative Writing Students

Instructor

Jona Ghose

Editors

Shelby Stillwell

Jennifer Nygren

Aneesh Shukla

Photographer

Lauren Price

Treasurers

Shae Eleshy

Yasmine ElBaitari

Contributing Artists

Christine Cordova

Alina Popova

Janie Staires

A Special Thanks to our corporate and private sponsors…

Wells Fargo Advisors, Mark Welty, Harrel Eyecare, Dr. Pragna

Suthar, Omni Pharmacy, and Mr. and Mrs. Shukla

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Dream Catchers

Words from the Editors

So, when we all first came into the Creative Writing Class in August, we were all a bunch of misfits. A poetry notebook, two children’s stories, a novel, six short stories, a one act play, a research project, a Shakespeare competition, random movie assignments, and plentiful coffee houses later, we became a family? Okay, so we’re a dysfunctional and completely insane family, but that’s beside the point. Or maybe it is the point. Only a dysfunctional and completely insane family could take a serious and isolated class and turn it into a daily celebration of our oddities.

However, none of this could be possible without the amazing Mrs. Ghose. Though she throws us the occasional disbelieving look and openly acknowledges our strange conversations, she still passes it all off as a part of the “creative genius.” Somewhere between a blow-off class and the class we all think we should get six points for taking, Creative Writing keeps us on our toes…writing…non-stop...Thank you for that Mrs. Ghose (that might be sarcasm now, but someday that’ll be genuine gratitude).

Now, Mr. Ghose, if you happen to ever read this, then know that though none of us have actually had the pleasure of meeting you, we still feel as though we have. And yes, you are right, Mrs. Ghose would make a wonderful used car salesman, but yet we are thankful that she missed that incredible calling and accepted her role as the mere Union High School Creative Writing teacher.

Through the year, our family has fluctuated. Many have come…many have gone. Yet, at the end we still find ourselves an odd bunch consisting of the ferret, the photographer, the chill one, the “mama,” the unpredictable artist, the one who feels “pretty,” the foundation, the philosophical one, the ghost hunter, the Swedish fairy princess shepherd, the one with cool shoes, the soldier, the flirt, the heart, the sheltered one, the lovable rebel, the one with a thousand expressions, and the puppet master. Clearly, we’re all exceptionally unique, but we share the privilege of calling ourselves

Dream Catchers.

With Love,

The Editors: Aneesh, Jenny, and Shelby <3

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Table of Contents

Course Description………………………....6

Poetry Section………………………...7-34

―Where I am From‖ …….............8

―DM of the Clay Effigy‖..............9

―Thrushborough Way‖………….10

―Teapot‖…………………….......11

Haiku Party…………………12-13

―Me and My Sheep‖…………….14

―The Country‖…………………..14

―Amber Flower‖………………...15

―Skins‖…………………………..15

―The Best Boyfriend‖…………...16

―Midnight‖……………………....16

―Faery Voyager‖………………...16

―Forgive Me, Father!‖...................17

―Sonnet 2‖…………………….....17

―Earth‖…………………………..18

―Little Bitty Blonde‖…….............18

Untitled Elegies………….............19

―Time Traveler‖………………....20

―Beep__Beep__‖…….…………..21

―A God’s View‖…….……………22

―Stormy Day‖……….……………22

―Night‖……………….…..............23

―Untitled Monologue‖.…………...23

―Awakening‖………….………….24

―My Baby, My…‖…….…………24

―The Sun‖………………...............25

―Mountain Streams‖……...............25

Tree Concrete Poem……...............26

―Smoke fills the air…‖…………...26

―Moksha‖…………………………27

―There Will Come a Day‖………..28

―Such a funny word…‖…………..28

―Used to Be‖……………………...29

―The Arms of Another‖…………..29

―Remarkable Centenary‖…………30

―Little White Sheep‖……………..31

―Down the old dusty road…‖…….31

―Emily Baylor‖…………………...32

―The songs of the birds...‖………..33

―Closed‖………………………..…33

―A Truckload of Bread‖………..…34

Prose Section………………………….35-50

―It’s Betsy!‖……...…………..36-37

―Chain Reaction‖....………….38-39

―6:45‖………………………...40-41

―Best Friends‖………………..42-43

―In the Forest of Love‖………….44

―The MIS Man‖……………...44-46

―For the Dream Catchers‖…...47-50

Array of Authors……………….55-56

Index by Author………………..56

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Course Description

―Creative Writing is an elective course; not a substitute for a required English

course. This class is for students who are passionate about writing and plan to

write in the future for profit or pleasure. Students will explore a variety of

writing modes and situations; identify their personal writing likes as well as

strengths.

Units of study will include poetry, children’s literature, newspapers, short

stories, novels as well as writing one-act plays. Students will be given

grounding in the structure and techniques of writing so that their creative

efforts are credible.‖ Union Intermediate High School & Union High School

2010-2011 Course Offerings, p 27.

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“Where I am From- Understanding the Insanity of Me”

I am from death,slaugher, and destruction, but from life, love ,and leniency. I am from Tulsa, a city of rain and steel, From Rotc and Union, the best of the best. From peace and war I came,

from pain and suffering. I came from hope and salvation,-

mercy, and grace. From Christie and Kevin my mom and dad,

From Felicia and Shannon my friends till the end. I am from everything, but from nothing

I am all yet none. I am from the fields of battle and peace the slums and the cornucopias of life I am from the realm of Camelot and from Mt. Doom. I am alive and well

--Cameron Coats

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Dramatic Monologue of the Clay Effigy A new companion? That should be nice, Perhaps you can provide me with some amusement. I’ve been here for a while now. Here I sit Forever on this shelf. I’m supposed to resemble his “sleep faerie,” But I’ve never even slept, My clay eyes forever open. I gaze into the night, the mirror behind me, The phantoms flying out around me, disorienting. I remain stoic, sitting. I’m in sight of the others, Envoys from Egypt and Zambia. I’d like to say they’re mocking me, But they simply don’t have the interest. The Thinking Man, ever absorbed in his thoughts, Stares in my direction but sees only inward. And Anubis- Oh, how I envy him! Anubis, the guide of souls – Surely he can guide the child to sleep. All kinds of trinkets lurk in the insomniac’s room – A dream catcher, which he’s had since childhood. A picture of a unicorn, his horn against a maiden’s head, Giving her the purest dreams. What good am I here? Sitting… But, I find my amusements. Sometimes the child sets books near me. Look, the Book of Enoch! Yes, I find my amusement. But, ultimately, here I am, sitting. Sitting. Sitting.

--David Mahaffey

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\

Trudge down the trodden path of Thrushborough Way, To enter into the unknown woods, Of written lore and madmen’s tales, So perhaps the Earth will take your pain away. Release your soul to the trees’ hands, Give your heart to the meadow’s flowers, And trust you’ll take them if you leave, For many are known to stay a while. Listen to the wise owl’s truths, Take heed of the wolf’s piercing cry, Know that the Earth works in strange ways, And try to live until tomorrow. Wander into Gale’s meadow at midnight’s passing, With weary steps and watchful eyes, To avoid disturbing any creatures, Brushing the tips of flowers as you pass by. Observe the moon’s eerie glow, From the center of the frozen plain, Don’t dare to move for a few hours, For fear of ruining nature’s balance. Reflect upon the years gone past, Of pain and anguish, of joy and glee, Purify yourself through nature’s paths, Ridding your mind and body of petty ailments. As beams of light break through the night’s mask, Return to the forest’s edge with light steps, To retrieve your now pure heart and soul, And depart from Thrushborough Way. Allow the dawn’s warmth to coat your skin, Revel in the new day’s glory, But rush home to begin a new journey, To begin a new life.

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Allow the dawn’s warmth to coat your skin, Revel in the new day’s glory, rush home to begin a new journey, To begin a new life.

--Shelby Stillwell

--Yasmine ElBaitari

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Peace Warm sun on my face Music floating in my mind I’m at peace at last --Kali

Fires burn deep inside Her heart is throbbing for him His love is fading --Rebekah

Leaves Yellow, orange, green Falling down from naked trees Autumn has come by --Pa Na

Shiny Striking Star The bold star shines bright. It shines brighter than the rest. Wish upon the star. --Sha’Brea

Beauty beholds you Blossoms on trees make no match True beauty prevails --Jenny

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I sadly recall How everything changed the day I first held your hand. --Melissa

Relentless Time There, the sands of time, They flow along, with such ease, Ripping them apart. --T.J.

The slow breeze begins It rustles through the red leaves Autumn is now here --Jenny

Driving Small bird tries to lead the flock of migrating geese. Is this who I am? --Shelby

Like the lonely tree, A preview of tomorrow, I stand quite alone. --Aneesh

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Me and My Sheep

My absolute favorite place to be, Is not somewhere under the sea,

It is not at my grandparent’s house, But it is somewhere you can find a mouse.

My favorite place to be is alone with my sheep. There are too many to keep,

But I love them all nonetheless. None of them are ever second best.

If I were to ever leave my poor sheep, The only thing I could do is weep.

There are despicable people who enjoy eating lamb, The thought of that makes me want to shrivel up into a clam.

The main eater of my sheep is those who go bump in the night. They are the most serious of frights.

They sneak into the pasture and gobble up some of my lamb. It leaves me the next morning in quite a jam. Knowing my sheep have to be put to sleep,

Is a secret I will have to keep. Now it is time to go feed my sheep,

Because my feeding alarm is on its final beep. Now where did all my sheep go?

Did they go inside to escape the snow? They are not inside the barn.

Sheep where are you? Oh gosh darn. Did I leave the gate open last night? I can’t remember,

All I can think of is that hairy new sheep member. Well, here I am without my poor sheep,

So all there is left to do is weep. --Jenny Nygren

The Country

Every morning I see the sun rise above my cottage Waking up using the fresh water from the solid clear stream

To wash my face I use my garden to feed my family

Oh, how I love the weather when it rains, vigorous Drops to my young rice field

After the rain there is a mist where it makes everything look Like a dream that I can rest and lay on

The country is where I belong --Pa Na Yang

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Amber Flower

Time keeps on ticking, And the rain keeps on dripping,

No matter how hard I grip, Time will always slip.

As weeds grow So does my sorrow

So weeds persist to grow And the sadness of sorrow

Soon grows a briar And more pain it sires But the rain will fade

And some of the pain the horns made As the roots were left

Through memories I sift With more rain

My heart is almost slain As a stem pushes through the mud

Sweet dreams flood But with rain

Came rainbows And with sorrow

Came strength too A rejected plant grows

And the new life hope sows With a bud stretching to the sky My heart finds new wings to fly

As I soar on eagle wings of power So blooms the quiet amber flower.

--Kali Moran

Skins

Mighty Warriors Bred to be great champions Rising above all Facing challenges head-on We are the Union Redskins

--Yasmine Elbaitari

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The Best Boyfriend He tells me I’m beautiful, without any makeup on. He tells me he misses me, when I’m not home. He tells me he hates when we argue, and it hurts when we fight, but together we find a solution, to make things right. He inspires me to do my best, and is sad when I do my worst, comforts me when I cry, aids me when I hurt. When I’m feeling ugly, he assures me that I still look okay. I love it when he says: I will never miss your pretty face. He finds little detailed things about me, and calls them unique and describes my personality as superb, sexy, and sweet. I know I may get jealous, and threaten to end his life, but he’s kind and patient and loving and always makes things right. He encourages me to be ambitious and to chase my dreams. For his loving I’m like a chocolate fiend. He doesn’t complain out loud when I choose chick flicks. He uses it as an opportunity to sneak in a sweet kiss. No girl can ever have a better guy than mine. So keep your grubby hands off. He’s taken at this time.

--Sha’Brea Walker

Midnight

Where the midnight stars are shining, Serene and peaceful thoughts are present.

--Kali Moran

Faery Voyager

From the otherworld came an envoy To see what knowledge she could glean, But in this world she found no joy, For by no human would she be seen.

--David Mahaffey

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Forgive Me Father! Forgive me father, but I’ve fallen in love Father his words satisfy me in every way

Father he’s a man not a young boy Father, I will be his that’s all I have to say

He has no family, father, so I promised I’ll be there and give him the love a mother would

I’d teach him as a father if I could I’ll stay up late and share a secret like a sister

I’ll race him and play football as a brother Father, I love him and we are forever to be together

Yet he claims music is his soul Father, I love him he’s my all

His music is deep dug in my heart a hole I am to be his, and he’s all mine

His love got me addicted; it’s not a drug it’s wine So father, give the honor to meet my man

He and I are meant to be Father, I love him, him and I are we!

Sonnet 2

Studying me as a lesson not to be forgotten

Silence filling our unspoken conversation

Staring at me, figured my shirt is out of cotton

Saying nothing yet waiting as in a station

Stepping forward, though quickly walking back

Smiling to every action my honor takes

Stopping watching my shadow getting darker, black

Slowly I try to move, yet you tremble, your hand shakes

Soundless I pretend you like to be

Side by side, yet eyes not intersecting

Scary, you think . . . God who is she?

Standing, I look and wave you weren’t expecting

Still living in silence . . . I am moving away

Sky was blue now gray, yet you have nothing to say?

--Shae Eleshy

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Earth

In the quiet of the dead of night, Many creatures are in flight, Seeing with sound, Their eyes don’t need light for their prey to be found. On the ground there is more, Wolves padding silently across the forest floor, On the hunt for fresh meat, The paws falling together in quiet beat. Underneath the ground there is still more, Bugs and mice go about their nightly chores, Eating their fill of the endless vegetarian food, Watching the sky for the predators who would ruin their happy mood. A quiet shadow soars through the sky, Not being seen because it flies too high, Listening for sounds of movement,

Waiting for a creature that would provide nourishment. Slowly the night turns to day, And the creatures hide themselves away, Mice return to their burrows, Bats return to their rocky hollows. Now the day brings more movement, Earth proving she’s a living planet, A sphere of blue and white, Abundant with creatures who move during the day and night. Since Earth is the mother, The sun is the father, Both providing what life requires, Because without the sun mountains would just be rocky spires.

--Gregory Schneider

Little Bitty Blonde

Little bitty blonde so stupid and sad, Led a dangerous life and got into something bad. She was walking down the street and acting kinda funny, So a curious man asked what was in her tummy. It wasn’t good, no not good at all, Before she knew it she was getting one phone call. Now she wears orange and sleeps on a cot, Because of the white powder she had in her snot. --Jessica Mathews

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Untitled Elegies

It never skips anyone Young, old, rich, or poor Regardless of the person It leaves us questioning more She closed her eyes in prayer Whispering thoughts through rose lips She watched them walk in black layers Mumbling thoughts about his wishing nips Respect is the main key to leaving life No matter who they are, being proper is the only way Lay them down in the grave, one hole that’ll fade Respecting the dead, today’s the day She breathed in through a clenched chest Biting on her frail lips while her stomach knotted She watched as he was lowered; flesh and blood molded into earth A memory never forgotten, in an old sight she spotted.

--Lauren Price

Behind the addiction

Was a conviction So young To not have spoken what was on your tongue

Your smile now lies in my heart Life without you is now falling apart Why did you leave When you have so much to achieve I breakdown and scream, our love was sacred I am just full of hatred I no longer will be trapped in this hell I bid you my last farewell.

--Rebekah Butler

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Time Traveler The world is changing. I am nostalgic For the past I never knew. With stained-glass glasses I read the textbooks, The accounts, However fabricated, Of times long gone. I close my eyes and I am running, Running Through cobbled streets as church bells ring. Horse and buggy nearly trample me But I dodge I laugh I invite the sun to kiss my face. And at night With kerosene lamp burning I gaze up at the sky The blood-orange moon, And whimsically dream Of what it looks like up close.

But my eyes open to a nightmare of falling Falling

From the grace of innocent beauty to the void of cyber space. Pixels and robots successfully swarm me.

We are lost. Brain washed.

Our faces pale from artificial sun. Day or night

With fluorescent bulbs glaring I gaze on at the screen,

The nauseatingly vivid colors, And violently dream of kicking it in.

The world is changing.

I am afraid Of the future I sense will come.

With rebellious paranoia I read the books,

The sci-fi’s, dystopias, I pray will never be true.

--Shelby Stillwell

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Beep___Beep___ Beep___Beep___Beep___Beep___Beep___Beep. I can hear my heart beating. The wires on my chest prick at my skin. Your breath escapes you unnaturally. I feel your hand in mine, Holding on for dear life. As my eyes darken, my throat lumps up, And I feel the need to speak my last. Dearest Love, My Reason to Smile, You must forgive me. I was not able to keep my promise, And now, my time is almost up. You chose to love me, but you did not know, That I would not stay faithful; For now, as the beeping slows, My time with you is passing. Beep_____Beep_____Beep_____Beep_____ The warning sounds so loud. My soul escapes through my breath, And my hand releases its grip. My strength leaves as the curtains close, Because the sun no longer shines on me. Your hair tickles my face, As you hold me…one last time… Oh thou that warms my winter, You must forgive me. Leaving you is not my wish, Nor is watching your tears fall. I know that you cry for me, But Love, there is no need. Goodbye may seem forever and farewell is like the end, But in my heart is the memory, and there you’ll always be.

Beep_______Beep_______. The clock ticks down backwards. The scrubs start coming off, As those that tried so hard give up. You begin to plead with everyone who’ll listen, For some escape from this nightmare. Your voice rings clearly through the ward; Your chest heaves as your panic peaks. Sweetheart, please calm yourself, For there is no reason to fret. There are more important matters to discuss, Like my lies to you, my One Beloved. I told you I would never leave you, And now you will soon be alone. I said I would always be yours, And now you will soon be alone. Beep______________. Your eyes glance at the monitor, And the pain in them is clearly visible. Your panic has calmed; acceptance crosses your face. Your hand finds its way to my face, And your voice softly washes over me. You say, “Hush now my love; it is your time to sleep.” Sleep. Darkness. Silence. The walls close in and all is still. In the abyss, however; One voice breaks through the dark – One beautiful, sweet voice – That eases all other pains. As my spirit begins to fail, Your voice, with assurance says, “I love you.”

--Aneesh Shukla

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A God’s View Sometimes I wonder why I created life. All the humans care about is their lives. They regard me less and less. The few that still hold me mighty in their lives are those that remind me that I did create life for a reason. The nerve of them though…it took so long for me to make that planet that they live on. And even then it isn’t much of a planet anymore; it’s more of a trash heap than anything! They scuttle about in their little automobiles, covering up the beautiful grass and hills with their parking lots, shopping malls, and roads. Earth looks like a pie with all the roads that criss-cross it! The nerve of them…I created that planet in my eyes, which means it must be beautiful! The humans, they don’t think they are beautiful enough and so they put on make-up and clothing, covering themselves up and piercing various parts of their body, defiling their personal temples! They keep the animals that I created as pets, using them for their own enjoyment. If they would just take a few moments to realize how beautiful the Earth is, they might appreciate it and me more. After all, it took me six days to make that

planet, and they want to destroy it now? Some of them deny me entirely even! They don’t realize that the signs of my power are all around them; they just have to look harder! But then again, I sometimes can’t see the beauty of the Earth, as the buildings and smog subtract from the visible beauty of the land. Their so-called cities never sleep! There’s always light blocking out the stars that the older humans used to navigate their ships. But alas, that was back before electricity, before the street lights, before the cars came about. Then they created a nuclear weapon, how destructive! Every time they use one, it’s like a second sun has suddenly sprung to life, bubbling out from the surface of the Earth and only leaving disease, death, and destruction in its wake! Even the most religious people on that planet forsake me! They want to kill each other because of petty little differences! The nerve of them…I am a God of peace, not of war. Why do they think they have to kill each other over me? I hate it so much that I want to just destroy that planet.

--Gregory Schneider

Stormy Day

I was abandoned by a woman when I was five Sitting alone on the cold brick ground with frozen grass Waiting for that woman to come back I waited and waited but my patience was gone My tears fell silently as it turned into blood red rubies I looked up at the sky asking why A white flakey object fell on my crystal eyelash And more drops came down, all of a sudden I was covered in white I felt a posture on my shoulder The stranger asked “do you know where you are?” I did not answer for I did not know She took me by my hands and I never saw that place ever again I am thankful for God had sent me an angel

And she saved me a broken seed……… --Pa Na Yang

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Night Oh, my friend floating up in the sky. Our silent guardian. Our light in darkness. You are my friend, our friend. Tonight you look beautiful, with so many wonders, Hidden and revealed. Our silent guardian Our friend always listening, But never talking.

--T.J. Harrell

Untitled Monologue

I can’t believe Bobby left me for Cindy.

It makes me so angry thinking about it.

He didn’t even have the audacity to do it in person. He broke up with me through Facebook. Not in person, but through the internet!

On top of that I have classes with Cindy.

That means I got to look at her brush her perfect hair and apply her perfect bubble gum lip gloss. It makes me want to barf. If I hear her answer another question in her southern Barbie accent, I will go berserk. I dislike seeing them walk down the hall holding hands. That should be me, not her. We were the better looking couple. I contemplated pushing both of them down the stairs. I don’t want to get in trouble though. I’m glad I have two men who stick by my side through it all. Thank goodness for Ben and Jerry. They help me get through my melt downs. I wish Bobby knew what his selfish decision has done to me. I’ve gained ten pounds. I have puffy eyes and none of my clothes fit me.

I don’t know what to do. I guess I will just stay locked up in my room. I will cut everyone off and not answer calls and become a nun.

--Sha’Brea Walker

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Awakening

I got blackberry gelato, And ate it in the car. It was purple, And I saw, In the mirror, So were my eyes, As I ate it. In ecstasy, I leapt from the car, Into the woods, Seeing purple flashes, The aura of my imagination. Other food tastes bad now.

They wouldn’t help me With the groceries. I told them it was my dream, That they had to. I threw them at the sky, And joined them, As I ran toward the megalithic mayor. I ascended to the sky, Drifting up. I flew up high, Thinking of others no more. Walking isn’t fun now.

--David Mahaffey

My Baby, My Darling, My Love…

The grievous message I have just obtained. My cautious composure falters, As the general graciously gives his condolences, My baby, my darling, my love… The tears from my eyes flow freely, Streaking stains upon my cheek, While my universe collapses upon itself. My baby, my darling, my love… Those dear to us mourn your death beside me. Ceremonies are arranged to honor your memory, Only your memory remains and it does not comfort me. My baby, my darling, my love… The irony of the day does not assist my grieving,

For as the sun shines my heart begs to differ. How can such a melancholy occasion occur on such a cheery morning? My baby, my darling, my love… Somberly I sit in silence as your past unfolds in memories told, No longer can I resist the urge to cry. Solemn and serious, the soldiers present to me a flag. My baby, my darling, my love… After the mourners depart, I step towards the oak casket, Stroking it as if it were your handsome face, I whisper… You were first and are forever… My baby, my darling, my love.

--Yasmine ElBaitari

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The Sun

The sun is rising. The day is beginning now. People are rising, Ready for the day to start. Thank you, God, for this beauty. People sit and stare At the glorious sunrise. They share with their loved ones The beauty in front of them. They are all very thankful. The sun goes to sleep, Ready for a good slumber. The day comes to end. Tomorrow will be better, And even more beautiful.

--Mylissa Campbell

Mountain Streams I gaze down below, To our beautiful land, Our dog barks happily, And you take my hand, Your warm smile, And heart, tender and caring, Has spread through every mile, I love you, Mon rose de belle, I love the garden you have raised, In all, you excel, Our children play,

Yes, they are away , You whisper in my ear, Beckoning me near, Wrapping your arms around me, Your deep oceanic, sapphire eyes, Easing my mind, You lean forward, And we kiss, Forgetting all of our troubles, And all I care about is you, All of my love is for you…

--John Fritz

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--Hunter Martin

Smoke fills the air Coupled with the hollow screams of despair

--Jessica Mathews

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Moksha

Want a fire? Light a match. See that mirror? Watch it crack. Broken down? Loved? Used? Break her heart? Or leave it bruised? Oh, the decisions you’ll have to make. Leave it whole or make it break? Best be quick. Time’s almost up. Game over. Now you’re sunk. She’s played this game. She makes the rules. There’s no overtime. She’s won, you’re through. No broken heart. Here’s the twist of fate. You THOUGHT you had her heart to break. You never saw it, let alone caught it. It’s been shielded up. She’s even locked it. What she made you think was breakable. When in all reality she is unshakable. She laid the plan. She thought it through. You didn’t know she was more devious than you. She had a calendar, your whole relationship planned. I know it’s hard to admit, you’ve been unmanned.

Buckle up. You’re about to fall. But don’t be upset by the story I tell. This girl goes through a living hell. More than a pretty face. She has a brain. She remembers it all. Every hurt and every pain. Don’t come too close. She’ll make you fall. Kinda like Cinderella after the ball. She’ll be no more than a memory, a torture of sorts. Every time you picture her in those boyfriend shorts. She gave you the warning to run like hell. But you chose to stay and then you fell. You’re just angry to be played the fool. But please remember this forgotten rule: Love conquers all But good planning does too. She never lied. She never had to. You chose to see what you wanted see. It wasn’t that hard to make you believe. She broke your heart, laid it aside. Let it go, let it slide. You’ll never own her. I know this to be true. Head to the bar and drink your brew. Cry away the pain, but I know you’ll remember. You'll keep her in your heart like an undying ember.

--Kamarah Green

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There Will Come a Day The human race is careless. All gratitude is lost. We seek the help of no one and reject the help that is ours by birthright. What we don’t understand is this: Our lives are at stake. Currently we live in a prosperous time. The world is seemingly at peace. But how long can this last when our outlook is such: A baby girl is considered worthless. A fire burns the green away. A tree is nothing but a pile of papers, a peasant no more than taken up space. These are the cruel perspectives we refuse to lose. The worst of it though is yet to follow. For there will come a day when we forget the reason for our being. There will come a day in which our minds will see nothing but ourselves. Thus, disarray and chaos will run rampant through the world. Humanity will suffer the consequences of its own ignorance and sin. Instead of asking for forgiveness, we place the blame on the Divine. There will come a day when the world looks up to the heavens and screams, “Leave us alone!” On that day, He will look down and whisper, “As you wish…”

--Aneesh Shukla

Untitled Tanka

Such a funny word It holds a lot of meaning Hide behind the words

To keep their pain concealing Why not erase the word?

--Lauren Price

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Used to be Soft and warm Sealed with care Sweet and kind Will never share Brave and strong Set so fair… That used to be him Yet he’s still here.

--Melissa Hardman

The Arms of Another

I look into the sky at night

I look and see the amazing light I look down and see something equally bright

I look and see for what I fight

I look and she smiles at me, for a time I look and see that for now she is mine

I look to where I stop the rhyme I look and see she has left me in the grime

I look and she is in the arms of another

I look and see that it is my brother I look and go to where she bothers

I look for her and ask for her back from my brother

--Cameron Coats

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Dream Catchers

Remarkable Centenary

Promises, Promises, forever to keep; unbreakable! Mistakes, words, kisses, dates; unforgettable!

Lies, mysteriousness, fake hope, and fairy tales; unforgivable!

Broken heart, tears; yet another girl? Cheater! Unimaginable!

One about to die and one start to live; Unthinkable!

One asking you to remain, yet you leave her for another? Unpredictable

One about to go through helpless pain, and one happily insane; Impossible!

One begs you to never break her heart, and one steals you, Unacceptable!

Promises, Promises, yet bigger oaths to break!

Swear, promise, tell me you won’t leave, don’t lie for love’s sake!

Told me I’m your universe, now you left me, are you soulless?

Told me you can’t imagine your life without me, now you left me, Are you lifeless?

Told me you can’t find enough words that tell how much you love me, now you left me, Are you

speechless?

Told me you would never make me cry, nor break my heart, now you left me, Are you heartless?!

Told me what we have you never and won’t have with anyone, now you left me, are you loveless?

Told me you won’t look at anyone else, and I’m your only one, now you left me, is she topless?

Told me I’m the only one to carry your babies, now you left me, are you man less?

Told me it’s real love and we are getting engaged, now you left me, Aren’t you worthless!

Told me you hate it and would change for me, now you left me, are you hate less?

Told me you would do anything and everything for me, now you left me, couldn’t you be lie less?

Told me you saw everything in me, and I’m the one, now you left me, are you eyeless?

Told me you would never walk away, now you left me, and God is the witness!

Told me you want me, now you left me, Are you desire less?

Told me what we have people search years to find, it was our own fairy tale, now you left me, wasn’t

it meaningless?

Told me what others say and think will never matter, now you left me, were you ever serious?

Told me they hate me for what I believe in, though you love me, now you left me, yet I’m not

faithless!

Told me you can’t change, though you promised to, a man of your words, are you wordless?!

Told me I was perfect, now you left me couldn’t have been painless?

Told me we will be together forever, now you left me, left me tearless!

Thank you for leaving and breaking your promises!

Thank you for making me believe your dishonesty, thank you for leaving me restless!

--Shae Eleshy

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Little White Sheep Little white sheep running to the hills Little white sheep sparing from the kill Little white sheep cry their innocent bahhhs Little white sheep, not one with a Ma Running from the black wolf, oh so big and bad! Little white sheep running around mad Little white sheep gang against one. Now the big black wolf’s reign of terror is done.

--Lauren Price

Untitled Pastoral Down the old dusty road, Is an elegant old abode, Still standing to this day, Built from one of the mule’s first loads. Early at the start of each day, The young couple would get on their way, Feeding the animals, And bailing the hay. The mountains served as the crops’ shield, Protecting their yearly yields, From the locusts from afar, Providing food for the animals grazing in the fields. The farm hands work through the year, Their spirits never losing their cheer, Enjoying the fruits of their labor, And so the farm had no monetary fear. The crops were their food, Everything was built out of our wood, The animals were our friends, And nobody ever had an attitude. Life was so much simpler then, Milking cows and collecting eggs from the hens, Planting crops and harvesting them, What I would do to live there again.

--Gregory Schneider

Parody of Year 3000 by the Jonas Brothers One day, when I came home after school I heard a funny noise. I went out to the front yard to find out if it was a drunken hobo. I stood there, with the hobo named Bobby. And a cart full of his belongings. He told me he built a time machine. With a toilet and cardboard box. We went to the year 2012. Not much has changed, but the world was destroyed. All the people and the buildings were no more. No more, no no more. He took me to the future in his contraption. And I saw everything. Fires, and another one, and another one, And another one. Volcanoes had erupted everywhere. And covered everything. We drove around in a time machine Made out of a cardboard box. We went to the year 2012. Not much has changed, but the world was destroyed. All the people and the buildings were no more. No more, no no more. I took a trip to the year 2012. This song had never been heard. Everything had been destroyed. I took a trip to the year 2012. There was fire all over the town. Volcanoes had erupted everywhere. We went to the year 2012. Not much has changed, but the world was destroyed. All the people and the buildings were no more. No more, no no more.

--Mylissa Campbell

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Emily Baylor

I always thought hell was a place I would never reach, No one told me that earth is the true hell. My body was broken, my mind almost followed. He seemed so nice and sweet, That thirteen year old boy I went to meet. My Myspace was full of letters of love, Days turned into months as our relationship quickly progressed. Till that fateful day by the railroad tracks, When I learned all was not as it seemed. I followed the man, who was not my boy Collin, into that little car. We went to his hotel to swim and play together, He bought me a pretty sequin swimsuit, I loved it so much I had to try it on. He took some pictures but I didn’t mind. I started to trust this man I called friend. Not enough to kiss him though, He didn’t like that at all. He tied me to the bed, Put duct tape to my mouth. He got out the lighter to burn through flesh to bone. The agony was endless, I tried to fight but failed, I tried to scream but it was muted, Not enough to bring help I fear. He threatened to beat and burn me if I wasn’t quiet,

I still clung to hope so I stopped the noise. My screams were replaced with his grunts, The grunts were coupled with the sound of flesh against flesh. All disappeared I knew no one was coming, With that knowledge came an endless pit of despair. With one final shudder he finished Laughter bubbled out of him as he rolled off the bed. He walked to a camera and began to speak, It was then I knew he would show you. His rant became clearer in my pain fogged brain, It was all about you daddy. I don’t want you to see me like this! Being a cop you see a lot but this is too much. He is done with the camera and walks back to me. He grabs a lamp with a grin on his face. All I feel is relief. I may be too young to die; thirteen is not long at all, But I welcome death. Welcome oblivion. Welcome sleep. As my face quickly becomes so much meat, My last thought is of you daddy, I love you. He can’t hurt me after this. Goodbye.

--Jessica Mathews

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Untitled Pastoral The songs of the birds awaken me slowly. I get up and pray to my father, the holy. I made breakfast for my love to begin our day. A storm is coming, says a sky that’s grey. The green, mountainous fields go on forever. It’s a beautiful sight for everyone, whoever! The colors of the leaves begin to change. Their clothes they shed, their clothes they exchange. From green to orange, to yellow, to red. This fall that’s coming is nothing to dread. The air outside is brisk and cold. While the leaves change to red, the grass changes to gold. The critters of the wilderness find a place to stay warm. Closer and closer comes the storm. The wind starts blowing hard and fast. Then in an instant, there was a huge blast. A blast of lightening, of thunder, of rain. Water trickles down the golden terrain. Hail and debris surround everything. The wind blows so hard, it begins to sting. The storm eventually begins to settle down. The grass went from golden to muddy brown. But still, the plains are beautiful and free. This land is mine forever, I plea and plea.

--Mylissa Campbell

Closed

So many ahead, Doors left for us to wander,

Many are left closed, Many are felt unopened,

And we roam them forever.

--T.J. Harrell

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Dream Catchers

Bread by the truckload

Huh? What on earth? My head whips

around.

Why is there a bed full of bread on that

truck?

Looks like Rainbow bread, 24 oz, sliced.

It is not a monster truck, a white Nissan

Truck, a little dirty, somewhat older.

Driven by a man in shabby overalls

His passenger a teenager in a crimson cap.

I could not estimate the number of loaves on

the truck.

What, I asked myself, why all this bread?

Where is it from? Where is it going?

I have to know, so I follow the truck

Drive fast at first to keep it in sight, then

Slower and slower as the neighborhoods

change

As it turns into ever sadder streets, and

Pulls up in front of a small, two storied house

Shabby with peeling paint, and a tiny yard

Ablaze with azaleas and a bright sign saying

HOPE

The tiny yard is busy with a gaggle of kids

Of all ages, laughing with glee

To see the man and the teen pull up to the

cracked curb.

A bucket brigade magically forms

Straight from the tailgate to the red front

door

Eager, careful hands grab the loaves of bread

Pass them hand over hand to the woman at

the door

Who smiles tremulously at the man and his

son

Tries to thank them, but they brush off her

thanks.

One tyke clutches a loaf to her chest, spins

In giddy circles, screaming “Bread, bread,

bread”

The woman says “Thank you, thank you,

Now, for two weeks, my kids will be fed.”

***********

And I think “Poverty? Here? In the

Heartland of USA?

In the land of milk and honey, succor and

hope of the weak and the poor?

How can it be, why did I not see it before?

How could I be so clueless, so unaware?

There was a clueless queen once, I have heard

Who, when informed that her subjects had no

bread

Said, “Let them eat cake” and lost her head.

Cake? There is no cake here in this house

called HOPE

Rather, the very staff of life seems in short

supply.

I wonder who the woman is and why does she

care

Surely not all of these children are her own.

I think, in the crowd, I recognize a few of my

kids

Who, I now realize, came breakfast less to

school today

Will perhaps not have had dinner for several

days

If not for the man and his teenage son

Who, happening to see a sale of day old bread

And having received an unexpected windfall

For once, decided to spend it all,

Not on their own fun, but on others instead.

- Jona Ghose

Artwork by Christine Cordova

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Dream Catchers

Ariana Gamble woke up from a

terrible nightmare. It was moments before dawn and the sun was just eagerly waiting to burst into the big blue morning sky. She breathed a sigh of relief thinking that the black day of her dream was past, but too soon. A sudden feeling of dread crept over her. Her fingertips began to tingle. She rubbed her hands together. It was a familiar feeling, but she hadn’t felt it in forty years. Slowly, she took the covers off of her and swung her legs off the bed onto the floor. She walked over to the window and looked out to the sky. It was completely clear, and shining with the reflection of the morning rays of the sun. Ariana’s old bones creaked as she shuffled over to the door of her apartment. She picked up the latest issue of the New Orleans Gambit Newspaper and looked at the date. It was August 29th, 2005. Maybe I just slept awkwardly on my hands, she thought. She looked at the front page and saw a picture of the revolutionary flood walls that the city had arranged. The headline read, “Storms will Think Twice before Attacking our Coast.” Ariana threw the paper aside and went to the East side wall of her apartment. On the wall was a huge tarp that was concealing something underneath it. She reached up and tore it down. A map of the Gulf of Mexico and the Southern Coast of the United States hung on her wall. Ariana, her fingers trembling, reached out and touched it. Immediately, the tingling in her fingers intensified. Ariana began sweating and then she saw it, a huge swirling shadow on the surface of the map. It grew bigger and bigger in the center of the Gulf, and then it moved…straight towards Louisiana. Ariana screamed, “It’s Betsy!” Gasping, Ariana released her hold on the map and closed her eyes. Hysteria enveloped

her as the full force of realization hit her. She had to warn everyone. She had to run. She had to find a way to make this known! But…why would they listen to her? They didn’t last time. Ariana’s mind raced back forty years to a day when she, then just a 23 year old woman living in New Orleans, woke up after a nightmare with tingly fingers for the first time. She didn’t know what to make of it, so she ignored it. She went about her business as usual until she got to work. She worked as a substitute teacher at a local high school. She was subbing for a geography class that day, September 9th, 1965. While explaining something about

tectonics to the students, Ariana touched a map on the wall. The tingling in her fingers grew

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increasingly intense and that was the first time she saw the swirling shadow. That night, Hurricane Betsy slammed into New Orleans. And now, she was back. So why would anyone believe me now? Ariana thought. Even as she thought this, she began putting on her shoes. They think it’s just another thunderstorm…just like last time. New Orleans had assembled a minute storm defense. They had called for evacuation, just like last time. But no one listened to it thinking that the storm will either dissipate before it hits land or it will be weak by the time it does. The city sets up flood walls in meager attempts at preventing too much water from destroying people’s homes and wrecking the city. Ariana was the only one who knew better. When Betsy hit the first time, she had gone completely insane. She began telling everyone that she had predicted it and that she saw it coming. She even tried showing people the

map, but no one ever saw anything. Still, she raced out of her apartment and out onto the street. In her hands, she carried a loudspeaker. “It’s Betsy! Betsy’s back! Everyone take your families and get out of here as fast as you can!” Ariana ran down the street repeating this. Heads poked out of windows as people looked for the source of the voice. When they saw that it was old Ariana Gamble, they all shook their heads and went back to their business. Many of them shouted at her to go home. “Please!” she screamed, desperate. “Please try to understand! I can feel her! She’s going to kill you all!” As if on cue, the wind picked up at that moment and blew the loudspeaker out of her hand, silencing her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as Ariana looked up at the sky. “Fine!” she cried. “Why should I help them anyway? What do I owe them?” She walked back to her apartment. She filled a suitcase with a few provisions and called a cab. The cab took her straight to the train station. There, she met a few people that she knew and when they asked her why she was leaving, she said, “It’s Betsy!” They laughed at her. She fought back her tears and got on her train. As the train started and began leaving the station, she took one last look back at New Orleans. She blew it a kiss and said, “Good luck.” That night, Hurricane Katrina destroyed the city, taking 1500 lives.

–Aneesh Shukla

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Dream Catchers

Chain Reaction

Thomas Silverstone sat in a chair at the law office; he still suffered from disbelief. “He left this all to me? No one else? That’s what the will says.” He thought to himself. “Right now, is this everything that needs to be settled?” Thomas asked. “I think we have everything that needs to be covered, so congratulations Thomas! Tomorrow morning you will be $100,000.00 richer! ” said the lawyer.

The men shook hands but as Thomas left the office, he lacked the feeling of just becoming richer. One thing he was completely sure of after living the first thirty four years of his life was that he did not need $100,000.00 to be richer. An inheritance from a biological and not a present father was not unwanted but not needed. A selfish man wanted but did not need to give up his son for a life of celebrity. A young boy did not want but needed a family to love him. The Silverstone family wanted to but did not need to take Thomas into their home. Thomas settled what he was going to do with the inheritance money before he even left the building. Half the money was donated to the Southwood Adoption center, the place Thomas’s biological father left him before he jetted off to Paris to celebrate his detachment of responsibility. Hopefully the money donated can help fix up the place because Thomas’s experience there was not the best. The other half of the money was put on a debit card to only be used in special situations. A woman was parked at a gas station pump. Thomas heard her let out an aggravated groan before she started to ferociously dig through her car. Thomas walked over and selected the payment method and inserted his debit card. “Excuse me Miss, could you hit the button to open your gas tank?” Thomas asked her. The woman was confused but absentmindedly followed the command.

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Thomas put the pump into her car’s gas tank and it began to fuel. When the woman realized what he had done she started to stutter out “Oh my gosh, did you? Uh? Why?” Thomas gave her a friendly smile then walked back to his car. “Thank you!” she called after him. The first thing the woman did was return home to get the wallet she had forgotten at her house. Avery Brown was simply astonished by the kindness of Thomas Silverstone. After she finished her errands Avery eyed a McDonalds and got an idea. It was around three o’clock in the afternoon and the fast food restaurant was almost empty. Avery stood waiting until a car pulled up to the drive thru. She told the worker to get her a diet coke and to put the car’s tab with hers. The worker double checked with her and was washed over with excitement like a child when he got to tell the car someone had paid for her meal. The woman in the car was shocked by the act, but when the food was delivered her mind was already focused on when she needed to take Shelly to her dentist appointment, or how she couldn’t forget to pick up Justin on the way to soccer practice and if Larry had remembered to record Glee. By the end of the day Avery’s act of kindness was seemingly forgotten by the woman, however it was not forgotten by the worker. The sixteen year old told his parents of the “super cool” event at work where this “chick” paid for “some lady’s” meal. The boy’s father was so impressed by the woman’s deed that the next day he decided to take the whole family out for some community service. He gathered his family and their first stop was to volunteer at Southwood Adoption Center…where the chain reaction started again…

--Jenny Nygren

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Dream Catchers

6:45

The first thing I register when I open my eyes is the heat. It’s stifling, in a way far more intense

than can be perceived on any natural day, even the ones I’ve been spending this summer down in

Louisiana with my grandmother, who still refuses the modernity of air conditioning. My heavy hair sticks

uncomfortably to my desperately perspiring neck and forehead. The air is tangibly thick.

I know almost at once that I am dreaming. I know this because a) everything is hazy and slightly

out of focus, like when I lose my contacts; and b) I’m in the middle of a massive forest with absolutely no

recollection of how I got here.

I sit up, and the source of the swelter becomes apparent. The smell of the smoke kicks in about

the time I see the towering flames, engulfing the canopy, reaching interminably into the distance behind

me. I look around in mild self-appreciation at the hugeness of the trees, the brightness of the burning fire.

I don’t usually come up with dream worlds this vivid. I sit lazily on the ground with my back to the blaze

and rest my elbows on my knees. I try to sigh, but end up only choking on the smoke. This irritates me.

After all, this is my dream, which means any pain I feel is ultimately self-inflicted. By now, my clothes

are drenched in sweat and I can hear the branches cracking behind and above me, as the fire robs them of

their illusory dream-oxygen. Again, I’m impressed with the increasingly lucid quality of this dream, but

the discomfort has now grown to a level that outweighs the fascination. I decide its time to wake up.

I close my eyes. Rub my lids roughly with the heels of my hands. Await the semi-weightless

sensation of consciousness returning to my actual body….

It doesn’t come. The only sensation I feel is the smothering constriction of the endless heat.

I must be really asleep. I think in slight irritation. I guess this is my punishment for wracking up

all that REM debt pulling all-nighter after all-nighter for the past month. I try shaking myself, pinching

myself, and eventually slapping myself, but still I’m stuck in the dream world.

―Fine then,‖ I grumble out loud, in a gravelly smoky-dream voice. If I’m going to be a prisoner in

this world a little longer, I’ll at least spend that time in the pleasant, un-burning side of it.

I stand up and brush the dry forest debris off my legs, then start striding away from the inferno.

My mind has created this world complete with a wide clear path, conveniently enough, so I follow it into

the underbrush ahead. After a distance, the air clears and breathing becomes a possibility again. I sit

down again to start thinking through possible reasons for this dream’s persistence, but no sooner have I

settled onto the ground than the air gets thick with smoke again. The flames have followed me, engulfed

the entire trail behind me again, and are frighteningly close once more.

Wishing irritably that I would just wake up already, I scramble to my feet and trek once more

away from the flames.

They follow even more promptly this time, and before I know it, I’m in an all-out sprint, dashing

through the forest with the ravenous flames in close pursuit.

Heart slamming against my ribs (though I have not forgotten this is only a dream), I race forward,

panting and choking on ash.

Enormous trees crash and crumble all around me. The fire is not only hot and hazy anymore; it

roars now. The sound is deafening and sets my teeth on edge.

Wake up, I plead in my head. I’m tired of this dream.

―Wake up!‖ finally, I yell it out loud. And nothing changes. I keep running.

Suddenly, I burst into a tiny clearing. The path directly in front of me has ended abruptly and I

have to choose between separate paths to the left and right. I glance over my shoulder tensely. No time

for a complex decision-making moment. I dart left. Hope it doesn’t loop back into the burning section of

the world. It doesn’t. I heave on, faint and miserable, unable to do anything but run from the fire that

gallops after me like an incendiary stallion. I come to crossroad after crossroad, twist after turn, and still

the flames are gaining on me. And still I won’t wake up.

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Dream Catchers

At last, the dream changes tune, and I dart into the choice between a path in one direction and a

cliff in the other. Disjointed thought processes bombard my head. Somehow I know that if I keep

running, I’ll keep dreaming, but if I jump, I should wake up before I hit the ground. If this is as true as I

feel it to be, then the choice is obvious.

It’s what I see on my wrist that finalizes the decision. The numbers 6:45—the time I always set

my alarm to wake me up—are tattooed across the back of my wrist, right where a watch face would

normally rest.

It’s time to wake up.

Relieved that this nightmare will finally be over, I take a deep breath of smoky air, get a running

start, and fling myself off the cliff.

***

―I think you are intentionally finding less and less intelligent subjects for each round of this,‖ the

scientist reprimands as he watches the green blip representative of the subject plummet, then fizzle out on

the screen. ―That one wasn’t even mentally stable—it committed suicide rather than complete the test.‖

―It did fairly well until then however,‖ the assistant reasons. ―The final mistake seemed a matter

of disorientation more than anything else, in my opinion.‖

―Either way,‖ the scientist sighs, ―we have to consider it a failure.‖ He types the data into the

computer, his boredom clear in his every mannerism and tone. ―Get those trees reset, move away subject

six-forty-five’s carcass, and let’s bring in six-forty-six already. I’d like to be on maze seven before

lunch.‖

--Shelby Stillwell

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Dream Catchers

Best Friends

It was the perfect trip. Emma Silverston and Andrea Campton were going to have the best vacation they could ever imagine. They would travel down the Missouri River in a raft, land at one of the recreational sites, and spend the night in a tent together. Then after staying at the campsite for a couple of days, they would travel home and stop by a little shopping outlet.

Emma was trying on her outfit for the trip. It was a yellow shirt with a little rose on the right-hand side, and green lettering that said “G Momma’s Girl.” It was her grandma’s favorite shirt, and Emma had promised her before she died that she would always wear this on the first day of every vacation. It was her way of remembering her grandma wherever she went. Man did she miss her. Every summer her grandma would pick her up and take her on a trip to somewhere in the world, and it would just be the two of them. They would go to practically every single monument or national landmark that place had to offer, and nothing could stop them from going on a trip.

The one thing that could and did stop them was cancer. Last summer her grandma was diagnosed with lung cancer, and 2 weeks later she died from it. Emma was devastated. She didn’t even leave the house for two months, and she wouldn’t even talk to anyone; the only thing she would do was eat. This trip was her first one without her grandma, so she thought it best to remember her in any way she could. She had her hair curly, just the way she liked it, her Charlotte Russe jeans, and a pair of boots to top her outfit off. She had been told that boots weren’t the best to wear on a rafting trip, but nothing was going to stop her from wearing the exact outfit that she had worn on her grandmother’s last trip.

The doorbell rang, and she hurried down the stairs. She opened the door, and there was Andrea. Andrea was one of those blonde-haired girls, who never really had a blonde moment, and because of it was chased by practically every guy in the school. But she had her eyes on one guy, and they fell in love, and were still currently dating. Emma’s boyfriend, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly your typical bodybuilder, but he gave Emma what she wanted: friendship. He was such a good friend, and he would

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always get her something on his vacations, so she would get him something, just to be fair. “Bye mom”, she yelled, and with that she stepped outside and shut the door behind her. ***

This was the first trip Andrea would be going on without her family. Andrea put on her new paisley dress that her mom bought for her in Boston. She grabbed her bag and stumbled down the stairs because she was so anxious. Luke was picking her up to drive her over to Emma's house. Andrea could have driven herself, but Luke insisted on seeing her before she left. She slipped on her black converse and was out the door before her dad could ask where she was going with "that kid.”

Her dad loved her, but he was too protective of her. He didn't approve of Luke because Luke wasn't a Christian, but she thought that just because he wasn't Christian didn’t mean he was bad. Andrea didn't tell her dad where she was going and for how long. She rarely even talked to him because she was always so mad at him for giving more attention to her little brother who was born mental. Andrea knew he needed extra care, but not as much as he got from her dad. Slamming the door and running to Luke's car was the typical treatment her dad received. She opened the car door and hopped in to give Luke a big smooch on the lips.

They pulled up to Emma’s house and Andrea got out of the car. "You ready?" she said. "You bet,” said Emma. Emma got in the car, and Luke drove off. They kept driving and eventually got on the highway. She looked at her phone, and noticed she had a new message. She opened it up, and it read, “FR: Mom. Hey, honey I hope you have a great trip, be safe, and we will be praying for you. Love you.”

Luke came up on what seemed to be their exit, and he drove down it. Emma was so ready to get on the water, and experience the wild outdoors. She was ready to spend the night with the four girls, and have no worries whatsoever of her life back at home. It was going to be the perfect vacation. Emma felt the car come to a stop, and she looked out the window. “Flinter Resort” was posted in bright blue letters on the sign. They were here. She got out of the car, went to the back, and pulled out her bags. Emma couldn't help but notice Andrea and Luke making out. Oh, gross, she thought.

"Come on Andrea let's go.” They continued kissing until finally Andrea broke it off. "What's the rush?" asked Andrea. "Sorry, but I don't like seeing you two kiss like that.”

They walked up to the door. Andrea turned and waved goodbye, then the two of them stepped inside. Inside they found a small welcome desk engulfed by a large staircase extending on both sides, and an open dining area to the left of the desk. The two of them walked up, and were greeted by a very friendly fellow. "May I help you?" he said. "Umm yes, we are here for a rafting trip down the Missouri River," said Andrea. "Ah, I see, and your names?" said the man. "Andrea Campton and Emma Silverston," said Andrea. The man punched in the names on his keyboard, looked at the computer screen, and handed her a key, and the two of them walked over to the stairs. Andrea looked at the key, and it said 237. After Emma and Andrea checked into their room, they decided to have a look around. Flinter Resort wasn't much of a resort, but Emma liked it. It had a warm cottage feeling. Emma and Andrea decided to go walk around outside because it was such a warm summer day, and it was too perfect to be indoors. The guy at the front desk, Mark, said there was a trail leading to the stream that they could walk on.

Emma gasped at how beautiful God's creation really was. Usually her grandma took her on city trips near urbanization. She wished her grandma was with her so she could see what she saw right now. There was a grand waterfall cascading into a small pond; the water was the bluest water she'd ever seen. The tall pine trees hugged the edges of the pond, protecting it. The rocks were smoothed down from the water and glistened in the sunlight. It was absolutely breathtaking. Emma felt something wet run down her cheek and realized she was crying. All of a sudden, she heard a loud pitched screech. Andrea had scooted too close to the edge of a rock and slipped into the water. Emma giggled and jumped in after her. The two best friends had never felt so close. They both knew they had their faults, but they loved each other and that's what mattered the most in their relationship. --Carla Johnson

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In the Forest of Love

The cabin in the woods would be a relaxing place for a very short time. The “storming” in the mind would be distracted for a bit, but it would then get bored of what is around, and start to go on random tangents. Books would lessen the boredom on the mind, but it also would only last until all the good books had been read. There are a few other short distractions, but the only one that would last any real time is the comfort of another human being of equal intellect there to enjoy the solitude of the woods with you. If the person is someone you love you could stay with them for a while in the woods for a very long time. The person must match you in a few aspects, or you will get tired of having to go back for them time and again. If the other person is better than you would become envious, and try to do everything you could to become even with them even if it meant trouble for both you and them. People can grow to love each other quickly, but the woods alone are the best place to do this in. The only lasting distraction is other humans you love, but if you do not have that the woods will become a very disheartening place.

--Cameron Coats

The MIS Man He staggered up the last few steps of the second flight of stairs, bowed far over to the right to balance the

heavy portfolio bag on his left shoulder. He took off his shoes at the door, came in and sat down in my Mother’s drawing room. My son had sounded the early warning a few minutes ago – “The MIS man is here, Daddy. Watch out – he will talk your ears off!” While I frowned at his levity, I have to admit that I was a little wary of meeting this elderly gentleman after a year’s gap. Like many, I am impatient with age and the slow ways and garrulity of the elderly. But, he was here on my Mother’s behalf, so I prepared to meet him with civility if not with gushing friendliness. Athin Babu is my Mother’s MIS man. For her and other such elderly housebound clients, he goes to the post office, collects the interest accrued on their Monthly Investment Scheme [MIS] accounts and delivers the amount faithfully. They thank him with a token payment. In spite of her arthritic legs, Ma got out of bed and came out to the drawing room. An old school gal, she insists on the courtesy of meeting a gentleman in the drawing room and not in her bedroom. She and he, similar in age, but poles apart in health and outlook on life, put their heads together and made sure that the pass books were updated correctly and that the interest amount granted was accurate. Ma counted the bills slowly and painfully, then slid out a few and discreetly slipped them across. He, as discreetly, slipped them into his pocket. It did not appear to be very much – the sheaf looked rather thin. Understanding that I was not supposed to witness this monetary transaction, I pretended to read the paper while I pondered on the gentleman and why he did what he did. What made him, at his age, go out in the heat of day or rain and brave the snarling traffic and jostling people of a bustling metropolis like Kolkata for a few rupees? Surely he wasn’t trying to live on these meager earnings? Why weren’t his children looking out for him?

I was coming to a slow boil thinking about this man’s situation when my wife came in and greeted Athin Babu. He visibly perked up and I thought, amused, “Aha, the old boy still has an eye for a pretty face, I see.” He became animated and began to describe his recent visit to Singapore. “Why did you go to Singapore?” I asked. “To see my son and his family,” he said. “See these jeans? My granddaughter picked them out for me”. He did look

The Dream Catchers

Artwork by Christine Cordova

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rather snappy in his new jeans and a bright Madras plaid shirt! They were a colorful foil to his mahogany complexion and silver hair. I asked if he visited his son and family often and he replied that he saw them twice a year. I was amazed! Here I shiver at the thought of airplane travel: the cramped quarters, the awful food, and the sometimes awful fellow travelers. Yet there was this old [?] man, blithely packing up and making a three hour plane trip, not once but twice a year! Intrigued now, I began to question him to get a clue to the man. I asked about his family – he has a son living in Singapore and a daughter and her family in Kolkata. “I married very young you know: I was only seventeen. But, I was rather wild back then and my Father arranged an early marriage for me so that I would settle down.” Looking at the staid old gentleman, I could not visualize him as a wild young man! “My wife was very beautiful. She made the best sandesh I have ever tasted. They melted in your mouth. ” I hesitated to ask when she had passed away and perhaps open wounds, but he went on, “She left me too early, we spent sixty years together, I wish we could have spent seventy. She did not get to see my son’s son, but at least she knew another child was on the way. I have been alone for seven years now, but I know she is looking down on me and making sure I am all right.” “What do you do all day? You are retired, right? I know you collect the MIS money every month, do you do anything beside that?” “Oh, the MIS activities keep me busy. I have about seventy clients, and everyday, one or more of their interest payments come due. I come to the city everyday, and go to different post offices to take care of my varied clients. They are almost all old, you know, so I take care of this little matter for them.” In a cynical moment, I asked “Your clients compensate you well for your help, I am sure.” “Yes, what they give me covers the transportation costs. Kolkata buses are still cheap, you know, and I don’t take taxi cabs. Taxiwallahs are chors *crooks+, their rates are too high.” I gazed, humbled, at this eighty four year old man who overlooked his own age to help others for less than a pittance. “My son wants me to put in a pacemaker, you know, but I am not going to,” he remarked all of a sudden. “Why not?” I asked. Surely one should get one if it was a medical necessity. “Why should I spend a lakh of rupees to put in a pacemaker at my age? I have had a full innings, and have lived longer than my allotted three-score and ten. That lakh of rupees will be better used on my grandchildren. If I am called on now, I am prepared to leave at anytime. But, I don’t think it will happen too soon - I am too healthy other than needing a pacemaker.” “How so?” I asked. He explained, “I live a disciplined life: I get up at five am, make my tea, drink it and take my bath. The girl comes in soon after, cleans the rooms and cooks my meals. I eat lunch early- a brunch really- then set out to take care of my MIS responsibilities. My last visit of the day usually coincides with tea-time, so I enjoy a cup of tea with my friends before I go home. At home, I wash up, set my MIS bag in order, then, at about six thirty pm. I pour out a glass of wine and savor it. My son gave me two bottles of wine this time - they are good! I have my dinner at eight pm, and am asleep by ten. The next day, I follow the same routine.” “Do you have a glass of wine every evening?” I asked, having a sudden mental vision of this old man perhaps overdoing his sun-downers. “Yes, one glass every evening. But sometimes, just for a change, I might have a glass every other evening or even after two days. It makes the bottle go further”. It was tea-time by now, and the maid got busy bringing in the tea tray. For once, I was glad to see that my wife had given her hospitality full rein – while normally I am irked by her and my Mother’s penchant for feeding people as though they were starving and food was going out of fashion! I pushed forward plates of samosa and the other delicacies and gently insisted on Athin Babu trying each one. I am glad to say, he made a very good meal.

Ma called out her goodbyes from the bedroom – it was godhuli [dusk] and time for Athin Babu to head homeward. While he put on his shoes, I lifted the bag to hand it to him. It was heavy – I marveled that he could lift it, let alone carry it around all day. I feared for him climbing down two long flights of stairs with that heavy bag. I went out to the front verandah to make sure that he had navigated the stairs safely, and saw him as he stepped out of the compound gates. I still had my cup of tea in my hand. It wasn’t a glass of wine, but I raised it in a salute to Athin Babu, who in one short evening illustrated courage, gallantry, and dignity: and proved that one is human because of one’s humanity. My eyes were moist as I watched the gentleman, bowed far over to the left to balance the heavy portfolio bag on his right shoulder, as he walked with a sure, steady stride into the godhuli and was slowly swallowed up in the tide of Kolkata humanity.

– Jona Ghose

The Dream Catchers

For the Dream Catchers

I remember their faces, great masked, white faces. I remember the bright lights above them. I remember the shouting and loud conversations. But above all, I remember the pain in my chest. I remember gripping the white sheets as the searing pain tore open my heart and made it bleed. Then, I remember the gas mask and the nurse whispering in my ear: “Count backwards from ten.” Lights out.

Blinking, I winced as I tried to stretch. Pain

shot from my chest to the rest of my body. It was my eleventh day in the Intensive Care Unit, and I knew that it would be my last. My family was outside talking to the doctors. Almost two weeks ago, my heart gave out on me. The doctors here gave me an artificial heart that would keep me breathing for around eleven days. All of this took the first few days just to take in. But now I was ready. As I half lay, half sat in my hospital bed, looking as pathetic as a fish out of water in a bear’s cave, the nurse came in. “Good morning Aneesh!” she said in masked happiness. She came over to me and took my hand. “How are you?” She asked. She stood there smiling at me so sweetly that I couldn’t bear to tell her the truth. “Fantastic!” I said. She bent over and kissed my forehead and said, “Good, because your family is here.” Puzzled, I cocked an inquiring eyebrow that said, “But they’ve been here for 10 days.” She smiled as she parted the curtains and let in the sunlight. As she was leaving, she said, “Your other family.” They walked in one by one: Shelby, Jenny, T.J., Yasmine, Kamarah, Mylissa, and Jessica followed

by Mrs. Ghose. My face lit up as they walked in and I yelled, “Hey guys!” and I gave them all a huge grin.

They laughed and smiled back at me and said hi. Then there was silence. Then, all of a sudden, -

“What happened?!?!” “What’s going on?!?!”

“Why are you in the hospital?!?!” “Are you okay?!?!”

I laughed and looked at Mrs. Ghose who was the only one in the room that wasn’t screaming or shouting. “Guys! Guys! Calm down! Didn’t you talk to the doctors outside?” They all shook their heads, so I looked at Mrs. Ghose. She returned my look and

said, “I did, but they didn’t.” I looked around and I saw Jenny, Kamarah, and Shelby looking very confused, T.J. and Yasmine looking very calm, and Mylissa and Jessica looking very sad. I smiled and gestured to Mrs. Ghose to

proceed. She stepped up to my side, faced everyone else, and spoke.

“Aneesh was born with a very weak heart. It’s about half the size and strength of a normal

heart, and eleven days ago, it gave out on him. He was running across the street on his way home and

he just collapsed. Apparently, right after they brought him here, his heart was working so hard to

just fix itself, that it tore open and burst. The doctors replaced it with an artificial one, but that will only

last him a few days after which…” and she trailed off. A few hands shot up to cover their faces. The pin-drop silence was broken by a sob. T.J.’s face was

paler than usual, but his eyes gave nothing away. Yasmine turned to me and said, “after which, what?” I looked away from her. At that moment, the nurse

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walked in and said, “Okay everyone. Aneesh is in an

extremely critical condition right now,

so can we all leave and visit him one by one?”

Mrs. Ghose nodded and ushered her kids out and closed the door behind them. She walked to my bedside again and said, “Shae would like to tell you that you OBVIOUSLY didn’t do your homework. Kali told me to tell you something in a different language, but I have no idea what it was…she sends you her love. Gregory would like to tell you that he has successfully hung 15 colorful things from my ceiling. Carla told me to tell you that you are a fish. Everyone else sends you their love.” Mrs. Ghose took a look out of the window and let out a deep sigh. I chuckled and I said, “That’s the sigh of disappointment Mrs. Ghose.” “You know, you never handed in that Sci-Fi short story, “she said as she turned around. I laughed and pointed to the folder next to the bed. Mrs. Ghose walked over, picked it up, and began flipping through it. She smiled as a tear rolled down her cheek. “There’s a semester’s worth of work in here,” she observed. I nodded and said, “Yeah, ten days in a hospital bed are in that folder.” Mrs. Ghose put her hand on mine and said, “I’ll make them bleed.” I smiled and said that I wouldn’t have it any other way. She said goodbye and left. I had a few moments to myself before T.J. walked in. His eyes found mine and I saw that familiar glint that always preceded a strange comment. “Dude, I saw a squirrel outside.” I laughed and laughed until it hurt. T.J. walked over to my side and said, “I bet you don’t feel very pretty right now, do you?” I shook my head, smiled, and said, “No, but I bet you do. You always do!” He looked into my eyes and said, “Right now, even I don’t.” He shook my hand one last time and turned to walk away. “May the stars watch over you, T.J.” I said. He turned, placed two fingers on his lips and said, “and may your sword stay sharp, Aneesh.” Then he said goodbye and left.

Then Kamarah burst through the doors, looking very angry and very solemn at the same time (something only she could pull off). She marched up to my bedside, put her hands on her hips and said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, winding up in a hospital? Who do you think you are? Who is going to listen to Rap Music with me? Travis? No! That does NOT work with me! You need to get your butt back into our lives!” “I’m SORRY,” I said, winking. She made a face as she tried her very best not to smile or laugh. She turned away from me and said, “Oh shut up!” She turned back around and looked at me. She walked forward and took my hand and said, “Take care, kid.” She turned to leave, but I held her back. “Hey now! Relax. You didn’t think I’d let you leave without a little something for the road now did you?” I reached for a plastic box on the bedside table. I handed it to her and she took it, giving me an odd look. She opened the box and let out a small scream. “Are these coconut chocolate chip cookies?!” I nodded, and she cracked a grin. She put the box down and hugged me. “You are a saint,” she said. She looked at the box and looked back at me and said, “But when did you make these?” I shrugged and said, “A little birdie came by and told me you were coming.” She picked up the box and smiled, shaking her head. “You sir, are full of surprises.” Then she said goodbye and left. The door opened a few moments after she left and Yasmine walked in. She smiled as she walked up to my bedside. She held up her hand and I gave her one of our famous high-fives. “So you know this is going to be a huge problem.” I raised an eyebrow and said, “What?” She looked at me and said, “You being here means that you won’t be at school for my senior year. You won’t get to see me go through Lit! Who is going to edit my essays and be excited when I get more than a six?” I laughed and took her hand and said, “Don’t worry; you’re going to be just fine.” She gave my hand a squeeze and smiled. Then she said goodbye and left.

The Dream Catchers

“Jenny’s up next,” I guessed. And sure enough,

she walked into the room. She looked at

me and walked to my side slowly. “You know,”

she said, “this wasn’t a part of the plan.” I smiled and said, “Yeah, I know.” She looked out of the window and said, “So who’s going to get me through senior year, Aneesh? If I fail, it’ll be your fault!” “My fault? What?” I looked at her with mock accusation on my face. “Yes! You’re supposed to be here through all of my freak-outs!” Jenny turned her back towards me and asked, “Why are you leaving us?” I couldn’t give her an answer. She turned back to me and put a hand on my chest and said, “I wish I could just make you a new one, a real one.” I laughed and I took her hand and said, “Write one for me and we’ll see what happens.” She smiled, gave my hand one last squeeze and turned to leave. “Say hi to your sheep for me!” I said. She smiled and said, “I will.” Then she said goodbye and left. I sat up a little in bed and waited. Mylissa and Jessica both came in together. I smiled when they both looked at me. My strength was already fading as Mylissa came to my left and Jessica came to my right. “I feel like you guys are about to jump me!” They laughed and Jessica said, “I’m just glad we could tear Mylissa away from her SIMS game long enough to come!” I looked at Mylissa, who gasped and said, “That’s NOT true!” All of a sudden, the two of them were leaning over me, trying to tell me both sides of the story at once. I laughed after a while and said, “All right guys…relax. You’re both wrong.” They both stuck their tongues out at me and all three of us laughed. Then they both said goodbye and left. “Last but not least…” I thought. In my mind, I could already see Shelby standing with her hand on the doorknob, “composing herself.” The door opened and she walked in. She stopped at the foot of my bed and gave me a wan smile. “Hey.” “Hey,” I replied. Her eyes gave away what her voice did not as she said, “The nurses and doctors out there keep telling us not to cry and to be strong.” I nodded and said, “I know, but you don’t

have to listen to them.” I put out my hand and she walked over to me and took it. “Your hands are so cold!” she stammered, her voice on the verge of breaking. I smiled and said, “I know, the life of the eldar is leaving me.” She smiled and looked me right in the eyes. “You choose a mortal life?” I chuckled quietly and looked out of the window. The sun had disappeared behind a veil of storm clouds. “Welcome to the calm before the storm,” I said. Shelby closed her eyes and gripped my hand tighter. My eyes stung, and I blinked in surprise. “Shelby?” I said after a few idle moments. I moved over in the bed so that she could sit on the edge of it. “Why does everyone who walks out of here keep saying goodbye?” Shelby’s tears broke the barrier she had made for them and she shook her head. I put both of my hands around her hand and said, “I hope they’ve seen The Fox and the Hound.” She looked at me and a question rose in her eyes. I told her of the Grandmother in the story who has to leave her fox behind in the woods. “When she leaves the fox in the woods,” I said, “She says that goodbye may seem forever and farewell is like the end; but in my heart is the memory, and there you’ll always be.” Shelby rose and walked over to the window and turned her back to me. After a few minutes, she turned around and looked at me.

“I brought you something,” she said. From

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her bag, she produced a little golden box. On top of the box, it said Chocolate Frog. My eyes lit up, and I opened it, but it was empty. I looked at Shelby who was smiling as she said, “Yeah, I pulled a Ron Weasley and saved you the trouble of opening your chocolate frog.” We both laughed until our sides hurt. “Speaking of giving,” I said, “Would you do me a favor?” Shelby nodded and said, “Of course.” I pointed to my backpack and said, “Bring that over here.” I sat up completely in bed as Shelby put it in front of me. I gestured for her to sit down on the bed directly in front of me so I could talk to her face to face. I hugged the backpack close to my chest and said, “This backpack has all of my past writing, things I’m currently working, and a plethora of future ideas.” Shelby’s eyes widened as she understood what I was about to say. “No! Really?” I nodded. “Take all of this. Fix everything that is completed. Finish everything I started. Please.” She looked at me like I was crazy. I looked out of the window and said, “You have to do this for me Shelby…consider it my last –“ “Hush!” she said. I looked at her and tapped the backpack. “There’s a laptop in here that has a note on it about how to get in and access all of the stories (don’t worry, it’s not a Mac). I have included a lot of detailed notes about my thought processes

behind a lot of the work in here. I want YOU to take this and create something amazing. Can you do that for me?” Shelby just nodded, unable to say anything. I smiled and turned to my bedside table. I took a rose out of the vase sitting on it and gave it to her. My chest began to scream in pain and I tried to avoid it, but I had to close my eyes. Shelby rose up off the bed and came to my side. She took my hand with a worried look on my face, and said, “Aneesh?” I smiled, opening my eyes. “Thank you,” I said. She leaned in and hugged me and I winced in pain, but I didn’t move. She let her tears fall and I couldn’t hold mine back any longer either. I sat there holding on for dear life, but then my strength failed me. My arms drooped and I gave Shelby a wan smile. She backed away, picking up the backpack. She turned to leave and stopped at the door. She turned to face me and I said, “Don’t you dare say goodbye.” “Take care, Roadkill.” And with that, she left the room. I smiled to myself as the tears cascaded down my face. You know, I thought to myself, I couldn’t have asked for a better family.

--Aneesh Shukla

The Dream Catchers

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The Dream Catchers

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Jenny Nygren Yasmine ElBaitari Gregory Schneider

Aneesh Shukla Carla Johnson Kamarah Green

Shelby Stillwell Melissa Hardman John Fritz

Kali Moran Pa Na Yang Sha’Brea Walker

The Dream Catchers

Mylissa Campbell T.J. Harrell Lauren Price

Jessica Mathews David Mahaffey Rebekah Butler

Cameron Coats Hunter Martin Shae Eleshy

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Index of Authors and Artists Rebekah Butler …………………………………………………………………....Pg. 12,19

Mylissa Campbell ……………………………………………………………...Pg. 25,31,33

Cameron Coats …………………………………………………………………..Pg. 8,29,44

Yasmine Elbaitari ……………………………………………………………...Pg. 10,15,24

Shahed Eleshy ……………………………………………………………………..Pg. 17,30

John Fritz …………………………………………………………………………...Pg. 6,25

Jona Ghose …………………………………………………………………….Pg. 34,44-46

Kamarah Green ……………………………………………………………………….Pg. 27

Melissa Hardman ………………………………………………………………….Pg. 13,29

T. J. Harrell …………………………………………………………………….Pg. 13,23,33

Carla Johnson ……………………………………………………………………...Pg. 42,43

David Mahaffey …………………………………………………………………Pg. 9,16,24

Hunter Martin ………………………………………………………………………...Pg. 26

Jessica Mathews………………………………………………………………...Pg. 18,26,32

Kali Moran ………………………………………………………………..Pg. 7,12,15,16,35

Jennifer Nygren …………………………………………………………Pg. 12,13,14,38-39

Lauren Price ……………………………………………………………………Pg. 19,28,31

Gregory Schneider ……………………………………………………………..Pg. 18,22,31

Aneesh Shukla ……………………………………………………Pg. 13,21,28,36-37,47-50

Shelby Stillwell …………………………………………………………Pg. 11,13,20,40-41

Pang Na Vang ………………………………………………………………….Pg. 12,14,22

Sha’Brea Walker ……………………………………………………………….Pg. 12,16,23

Janie Staires…………………………………………………………………………….Pg. 4

Alina Popova ……………………………………………………………………Front cover

Christine Cordova …………………………………………………………………Pg. 34,45

The Dream Catchers