Navis Undecim

Here I am, all my possessions in my hands, my coat on my back, and all my friends by my side. Today is what the spacers call a lift-off day. I tend to agree, the skies are cloudless, the ships are ready, and I am ready too. So as I’m standing alone, empty- handed, I observe the many jewel studded, long robed, and snobby men that are so close and yet so separate from me. While I myself am only going from Orff to Thaviv, these men may be traversing through the galaxies themselves; to the lands where diamonds rain and gold grows plentiful. As I ponder this I force myself to make sense of my surroundings. I am in a low ceilinged waiting area with nauseatingly synthetic and overly glaring lights. The room is possessed by the stinging smell of disinfectant and the dull conversations of traveling companions. I am set to ride from the mining world of Orff to the scavengers heaven of Thaviv. I have no regrets about my journey. I am leaving no one and nothing behind. No, I mustn't think of that, that day when it all changed. I feel the chair pressing into my back and bottom like a vise. Are the walls falling down? I don’t care. All I feel is a sword in my heart and a burning in my throat.   

“No, no, no, no,” I’m whimpering to myself now. I can’t contain my sorrow. I see her, right in the floor. She’s slowly being crushed alive, her beautiful figures melting into a pool of bones and gore. Out of her mouth comes one, small, word.          

  “Leave.”                                 

“Boarding for Orff to Thaviv bay 42. I repeat, boarding Orff to Thaviv bay 42.” The automated voice breaks me out of my depressed state. I slowly rise and am surprised to see the wealth oozing frommen rising from their seats . They do this as though the entire world has been waiting for them to make their entrance. They don’t walk; they float majestically as if living on clouds. It’s supposed to give off an air of superiority. But it really just looks like snails with legs.

But why are they going to a planet of crushed battleships and even more crushed souls? Surely they have no business there. But no, I must focus, I mustn't be distracted. I have one solitary chance of getting off of this orphan making, God forsaken, burning rock. I rise confidently, purposefully, and quickly. Each step brings me closer to leaving the only place I have ever called home.

This labyrinth of hallways is almost too disorentating to stand. As I walk, the gentle throb of the crowds provides an escape from my troubles. Left, right, left, right. There it is! Bay 42 with its doors wide open. But where are the weak and helpless? Why is there such an absence of the needy and the fatherless? All I see are the rich and well off, the ones that are supposed to be going into the luxury ships.

“Hello, young man, do you have the intention of boarding my interstellar vessel?” This accusation-sounding statement is directed to me by an athletic man with a navy blue vest and matching pants. His badge says Captain Rex.

“Well, that is what my transcript says.” Rex seems to believe that he’s better than me; I can gather that from his sneer. But why? Aren’t all men made as equals, our biological components exactly the same? It intrigues me to ponder the fact that we are made from the same elements, the same matter. The only thing separating us is our bank accounts.

“Fine, I suppose looks can be deceiving, third door on your right.” I start scuttling away. I get three steps before Rex yells back.

“And welcome to the Navis Undecim!”

I’m being ushered to a small room (no more than seven feet in area) by a little machine pretending that he’s human. He has all the right components, head, legs, arms, eyes, the fingers, the toes, and the rest. But there is something missing. Something is off about this short english-looking man. What is it? Oh, of course. The eyes are as empty as my pockets. It can’t have a soul, emotion, or friend.

Even with its faults, I feel the childish urge of excitement at the sight of it. This is as close up as I’m ever going to get to Google's best selling new toy. Humanoids are all the rage nowadays. My master had two or three model fours (obsolete compared to this model Z).

“Welcome to the Navis Undecim, named after the first spaceship that sent men to other planets.” The robot fires off words like a well rehearsed speech. I know she’s wrong; Apollo 11 went to the moon, not another planet. At least I think so; it happened 200 years back. My history lessons were all but obsolete.

This ship is fascinating. It’s a small ship, with hydrofoil like wings and the smallest engine I’ve ever seen. In my space. Wait, my space! My very own ten square feet of land! Is that a couch? I have only heard of these in rumors! Great balls of fluff! Not for sleeping though, just for sitting! The walls are almost completely empty but not quite. There is just a poster of a Fire-phantasis. The name is derived from the word the scientists called it, Monstourous Phantasmas. The name means fantasy monster. These beasts are giant beings (20 feet tall is the record). The xeno creature also gives off enough energy to power an automobile. And that’s only in the crystals we’ve found! Scientists think they shed off crystals in puberty. They are made from multicolored crystals, and they have no face. They burn mini fires inside each of their crystals. They are alien beings from some luxury planet; they could be the answer to the energy crisis. That is if the ETAC (extraterrestrial ambassador committee) drops their stance on “protecting the animals.”

What’s this? The ship trembles, and I feel a pop in my ears! Don’t the old and brittle still have to board, and what about the ones with no arms or legs? Where are the

miners! But I am tired, I must rest my head in this white walled room of the wealthy. To bed.

Five hours later, in gravitational orbit above Thaviv.

I wake to no noises, at all. I look outside my room and see nothing, not a soul. To my left I hear the soft thrum of machinery. Down the hall to my right there is an expanse of doors, each with the soft sounds of conversation coming from them. I have an odd feeling about this, no crying children. Maybe spaceships calm the weary, maybe they work magic. But no, I know my kin, they wouldn’t be this quiet. But wait! what of the rich men aboard! Maybe I’m on a luxury cruiser, going to take me away from my terrible path! Maybe this isn’t an exile to escape my past, but a trip to a bright future! Maybe,

BOW-A-COW-A-CHOW-A-DO-WHO-WHO-who-who-whooooo. This isn’t the sound of luxury! This is the sound of the mines. That is, engine failure. Screams! Shrieks! Rex is sprinting frantically to my left. And some feeling inside me, call it curiosity, call it a need for adventure, follows him.

“Back, beast!” In front of me is a scene out of a horror story. On the ground drips the blood of a human. On the walls are the scorch marks of fire. On my left is a burning pile of machinery, utterly mangled and destroyed. But I mustn’t focus on any of that, for before me is the one thing I thought I would never see.    

There it is, the subject of all the debate, a Fire-Phantisis is right there! Rex is in combat! Suddenly the man I met less than a few hours ago is saving my life! Rex fights valiantly, dodging left, right, and then hitting the thing with bare flesh. Rex is trying to corral the beast into its cage. Rex seems to be making progress, but every so often a crystal hand shoots out and burns something else. The fire rages on, and now I see, Rex is losing. There is no pushing back on an unstoppable force! It’s over. The beast lashes out and hits, and burns, and kills. So this is how it ends, in a luxury ship, with an illegal engine, and without a single friend. Hm, something illegal, no friends, and being close to luxury but not of it? That has been my life. If buddhist beliefs are true then I hope my next life is better. If the christians are right I hope God bestows upon me more than I have now. The fire rampages towards me, and suddenly the beast turns a bright white, and all I feel is burning pain. The feeling is as if a hot pan is being heated even hotter, and I’m being cooked. The agony! The never ceasing knives of death are coming! And then it all stops, and I discover man’s most thought over mystery. And I can never tell you.

Disaster Report

InterGalactic Government                             11.20.04 ST

Type of disaster:

Ship disintegration

Time of disaster:

5:42 Standard Time

Death Toll:

156 dead, no survivors.

Cause:

Carbon buildup in engine.

Other Notes:

None.

-James Kelly

“Yo, you’re the new kid, right?” I turned to see who was screaming at me now.

“Um, me?” I asked pointing to my chest.

“Ya, you. What’s your name again? Anthony?” the tough kid replied, looking down upon me from his high standing point.

“Actually, it’s Alex, but you can call me Anthony if that makes you happy,” I said shyly, hoping he would just walk and leave it at that so I could go back to hiding in this new school. But instead of just walking away, whoever this kid was decided it would be fun to draw more attention towards me.

“That’s right. I will call you whatever I feel like calling you… Anthony,” he said, acting like the toughest kid in the world, which quite frankly he could have been. He was like six foot and all muscle. “Anyone wanna call the new kids names with me?” he screamed as if my day wasn’t going bad enough already.

“You get away from him! You hear me?!?!” I heard from behind me. I turned around to see a----- short girl with glasses?

“Awww, you got your little girlfriend backing you up now, do ya?”

“Doesn’t matter if I’m his girlfriend or if I’ve never seen him before. He’s trying to get through the first day of school just like the rest of us, so don’t you be going and giving him a hard time,” the girl shot back without a stutter. It was like she was reading straight off a script printed in bold letters in front of her.

“You don’t ha----” I started to say before she cut me off.

“Yes I do, I know how it feels to be the new kid getting made fun of. So just shut up and go along with me,” she said.

“You guys done with your little side conversation over there? I need to knock a little sense into your good friend Anthony over there,” he said.

“First off, that ‘Anthony’ over there is named Alex, and you aren’t going to be calling him anything besides that. And secondly, you need to get a life if you find enjoyment from making fun of people who have done nothing to you,” she shot back like a slingshot.

“Yo Liza… chill. I was just trying to have a little fun,” he said as he turned to walk away but stopped short to add one last comment. “And I do have a life. The life of Conner is the best life,” he said, pointing both of his thumbs towards his chest as he finally walked away.

“Just walk away and don’t come back!” Liza called after him.

“Woah… thanks. No one has ever stuck up for me like that before. I have moved around quite a bit, so I’m used to being the new kid who gets made fun of and not having any friends,” I told Liza once Conner was around the corner of the locker filled hallway.

“Well this time it’s going to be different. You might not end up being friends with everyone in the school. Especially Conner, but you can be friends with me… if you want to that is,” Liza told me in a much softer voice than she had used on Conner.

“Of course!” I said instantly, sounding a little over excited at first. “I’m Alex, and I’d love to be your friend,” I said, holding my hand out for her to shake.

“And I’m Liza, your new best friend,” she said, taking my hand. For the first time this new school wasn’t all that bad.

-Kailey Jacobson

           

Eyes opened.

Solcien lay on his bed; sunlight streamed through his window. Rolling to the side, he saw her. Lulaa lay beside him. Her skin was bright red and eyes bright green. As soon as Solcien noticed her, she jumped up, startled and fully awake.

“Lulaa!” he exclaimed, sitting upright. “What are you doing here?!”  Lulaa smirked and put her finger to Solcien’s lips.

“Don’t talk,” she said.

When she touched him, a vision flooded his mind.

As his consciousness returned, a great crystalline structure revealed itself deep within the reaches of the Great Dark Beyond. His vision continued to wander, giving Solcien a bird’s eye view of the great ship, light from the stars reflecting against the smooth surface. He then noticed himself at the head, seemingly controlling the vessel. Velen stood beside him, and his intuition told him Suurath was asleep. Suddenly, his vision switched to the Solcien he was watching.

“Agh!” He stared at the control frame before him, suddenly clueless.

“High Astronomer, what is wrong?” Velen spoke. His hair was grayed significantly, and his skin was scarred. Solcien searched for an answer, but his mind escaped this vision and went to another one.

He was on land. Not anywhere on Argus, but lush savannah-like planet he didn’t know of. He saw many eredar lined before his village, weapons raised, but he himself had none. He wondered why he was not fighting.

“Please, help me…” Looking down, he noticed an injured woman lying at his feet. He was a healer.

“What happened?” Solcien asked frantically.

“They...cut me…” She sputtered with every word sounding like it caused incredible pain.

“Who is ‘they’?” Before he could say anything more, he heard a ravenous battle cry.

With the grass rustling harshly and a battle horn blaring, great creatures flew from the shadows and laid siege to the village. They were not eredar, as they had neither hooves nor tails. Their skin was brown, and they fought on great fur-beasts with reckless abandon. A particularly large one approached Solcien, raising her axe.

“Draenei scum!” she roared. “Prepare to die!”

Draenei… that was Eredun for “exiled ones.”

“Please! I have done nothing!” But before the creature could hurt him, Lucien jumped out in front of him, showering the creature in many arrows. A muscular man came behind her, cleaving his way through the cacophony, his long pure white hair blowing around him.

“Are you okay, Solcien?” Lucien said, concerned. The second man who accompanied him looked impatient.

“Keyurk is still in the village, we must go.” Solcien opened his mouth to respond, but his mind once again left his body.

Now he found himself writhing on the ground. A smell of smoke and burning flesh filled the stagnant air.

“Solcien! You’re alive!” Suurath crawled toward him. He looked...different, however. Plants grew through his horns, and buds flecked his skin. He was so pale…

“We crashed...the Exodar crashed...so many dead…” Suurath cried, gesturing toward the destroyed mass of metal and crystal. “You’re alive…”

Solcien awoke in the bed once again. Curiously, he looked to see if Lulaa was still there. Instead, he gasped at what was in her place.

The Naaru A’dal stood before him.

“A’dal! Is it you?” Solcien said in awe.

“Yes, Astronomer Solcien. I’m sorry I must show you this future for you, but you must know you are going to survive. I have but one more thing to show you, then you will awake, because they are coming.”

“Who?” Solcien could not say it before the Naaru disappeared. He found himself in the sky, though it did not look like any sky he had been under. The air swirled in a green vortex, and before him stood a massive demon almost looking like that of an eredar. He looked as Lulaa did, except many times larger.

He found he stood beside many different creatures. Suurath was there, still in his botanical form. Lucien and the unfamiliar man stood tall and confident beside him as well. Two other teens were there; one fought valiantly with his hands and the other had fire dancing in hers. The creatures varied in size, and some held their weapons while others had minions, some even demonic.

The hoofless woman stepped forward, her armor clanking against her body. Another man stepped forward. He looked like a beast, though he stood on two legs.

“Kil’jaeden...your time has come to an end.”

Kil’jaeden? Solcien looked the demon over. He bore no resemblance to his old self. He wondered if this was the fate of Lulaa.

He noticed the Prophet was there. However, he had aged many years. His hair now was long and coarse. Suurath also had changed. His plant growths were withered and scarred. He looked almost dead, yet still his soul did not come to the Light. It stayed within him, fighting to remain on this plane of existence. Velen surveyed the apparent team, smiling a bit. His eyes met Solcien’s, and he nodded at him in approval.

“I am so proud of you. I always knew you would achieve great things.”

-Alexa Gabor

Working my way into school slowly. Looking at the ugly brick detail on the outside of the school. Cracking my music louder and louder. Wishing I could just leave. Opening my ugly green locker that smells like dead fish. Going into first period is the worst way to start my day. The room always smells like rotten eggs.  No one looks at me. No one talks to me. No one realizes I'm alive. My teacher always asks me if I’m ok, but I always lie because I don’t want to have to explain what’s wrong. So I just nod my head and act like I’m ok. But I never am.

Ughh, it is time for first period. All I hear is the gossip everyone says. There are the two groups of people. One is the gossips. I swear all they do is talk. But there “leader” is the most annoying person in the group. Her name is Kylie. Even her name is annoying.

The other group is the people that don’t give a damn about school. They just sit in class and don't do anything, so they look at the blank postery walls. Only some people in my class actually do work. But the worst part is that our teacher that doesn't care what we do. She just sits on her phone and gives us documents to read and questions to answer. She sits in the ugly pink dress in the corner.

             “All you need to sit your asses down and do your work,” my teacher yells at us. We all are very shook. She was very angry with us, but at the same time it was very good for our class.

Kylie is still standing.

“Kylie, sit down now, or I’m sending you to the office,” she says with a red face.

“Wow, for once you actually said something to us,” Kylie whispers as she sits down.

“Now everyone shut up and do your work.”

Everything flips after that. No one talks. No one moves. We all don’t know what to do. It stays quiet for the rest of the period.  For once the classroom is as silent as a ghost. You can hear a pin drop.

Now it’s passing time, where the halls are crammed. Also that means bully me time. “Omg, what is she wearing,” mudders some girl.

“I know, right, it's so ugly, like her,” whispers another girl. Everywhere I go that is all I hear.

Lunch is my least favorite part of my day. I have no one to sit with. All the tables get taken up, so I eat my lunch in the bathroom everyday. The cafeteria is so small anyways. No one ever notices I’m in the bathroom either. So I just eat in there everyday.

Normally after lunch I only have one period left, which is great. My last period is study hall, so I’m always “happy” in that period. The teacher I have is very nice. Oh, but when that bells rings I’m out. I’m always the happiest then because I get to go home and talk to someone that actually cares about me, running to my room when I get home.

Hey

Hey

Whats up

Nothing really, how about you cutie

Just got home from school

Fun

Yah

What you up to tonight

Just planned on talking to you

Oo I’m good with that

Yay

How was your day

Boring, how about you

Boring because I didn’t get to talk to you

Aww, your so sweet

Thank you hottie

“Honey, dinner’s ready,” says my mom.

I got to go eat dinner i'll be back soon

Ok bye ily

Ilyt

*Hours pass*

Hey, I’m back

Hey,  now I got a question

What is it

Can I see that perfect body of yours?

Sure

Yay

I send him a picture and he screenshots it.

Why did you screenshot i thought we had a deal with not screenshotting

Sorry babe, I didn’t mean too

Are you sure?

Yes

Ok I trust you ok

Good

Ok it's getting kinda late i'm going to go to bed

Ok goodnight hottie ily

Goodnight ilyt

Rolling out of bed to check if he texted me, it is so dark I am blinded looking. But the first thing I see is the picture I sent to him all over the internet. Everyone is commenting on it.

Oh my god what a hoe

Why would she do this

Nasty

What does she thinks she is

This is the nastiest thing I have ever seen

This is so much more. I don’t know what to do. I think going to school is going to be so hard. But I can't tell my mom because she will kill me. I just have to suck it up and go to school.

“Ew, look at her, how is she even in school?”

“She’s so gross.”

“What does she think she is?”

That’s all I hear with every move I make. For most of the day, I just sit and cry in the bathroom because no cares about me. Honestly, I don’t have any reason to be alive. No one cares. No one knows I am alive. No one sees me.

I have had enough; I can’t stand being treated like this. I say, “bye, world.”  I realize no one cares, so what is the point of staying in a world that doesn’t like me? The only person that I thought “cares” was my special guy, but I guess I was wrong.

-Ashleigh Francis

I look up. All I see is a dull red building. Probably three stories high. I am standing in front of the biggest school in New York City. A heavy breeze that smells like old grass and steam pushes me a few steps to the left.

Once I regain my balance again, I realize that I’m right in front of the entrance. I hesitantly step inside the door to my new school. In this moment, I realize that my life will never be the same. I have officially lost all control of what happens in my life. I look on my schedule and see that my homeroom teacher is Mr. Tucker, room 907. 907? There are over nine hundred rooms in this school? I immediately start to panic. I let a faint screech escape under my breath.

Oh no. I quickly realize that I’m going to need help navigating my way through this enormous school. I scan the massive crowd of students walking into school and try to look for someone easily approachable. I see a girl walking in to the school with golden brown skin and curly hair, holding the straps of her backpack. She is wearing a black and purple coat with cropped jeans and converse. The girl looks a little older and more mature than me, so I guess I could ask her for help. I walk up to her, hoping she can help me find my class. “Hi,” I say, “do you know where Mr. Tucker’s room is?” She slowly looks up at me as she takes her ear buds out, and a small smile creeps from her face. She thinks for a second, which I don’t blame her for if there are ever nine hundred rooms in this building.

“Um…” she starts to talk, bringing me back to our conversation, “yea, it’s on the right side of the math wing.”  Whatever that meant. “I can show you how to get there if you want, but I’m about to meet my friends somewhere. You can come with me if you want, we still have twenty minutes before we have to get to class.”

“Sure,” I say before I even let myself think about it, “thanks.”

We turn the other way and walk out of the front entrance of the school, and the girl walks so fast, I have to run to catch up. People roll their eyes at us when we navigate our way through the crowd of people. It actually takes a lot of effort and apologizing because we’re walking in the opposite direction of everyone else who is going into the school. Why would we be going away from the school? It’s a pretty nice day in April, maybe she and her friends want to hang out somewhere outside.

I almost run into her when she abruptly turns around. “I’m Holley by the way,” she says pretty enthusiastically for a Monday morning.

“I’m Sofia. Nice to meet you,” I say, trying to match her excited tone.       

I follow her around the big school and over to what looks like an alley on the other side of a busy street. I casually squint and see a few other kids that look slightly older than both of us in the alley wearing black from head to toe. There seems to be smoke everywhere. The air smells like steam neer the school, so it might just be what it smells like here. It almost looks like smoke from a fire though. The smoke is as intense as I feel right now.

“Is there a fire back there?” I say.

“Fire?” she lets out something like a laugh and a sigh. “You’ll see,” she says with a mischievous look on her face. There is no crosswalk, so we have to just walk and hope we don’t get hit by a car that is going extremely fast. I start walking behind Holly as she begins to pick up the pace. Once we get a little closer I see what they’re doing. Smoking. Everything starts to happen in slow motion as I see Holly start to run toward her friends. I’m not sure if I’m moving or not, but everyone’s looking at me.

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? I really want to get to know you better because you seem like a lot of fun, but just one thing. To join our club, all you have to do is smoke. Just once, and if you don’t like it, you never have to do it again. Of course, I was scared to do it too, but it’s a lot of fun,” Holly says.

The handful of people are talking to me all at once, but all I hear are muffled sounds and ringing in my ears. The cars driving behind us are as loud as thunder. What do I do? I really don’t want to be known as a “goodie goodie” for the rest of my five years here. Just one puff can’t hurt, right? Again, before even thinking about anything, I agree. Or at least I think I agree because someone hands me a lit cigarette. I almost drop it as soon as I touch it because my parents have always told me not to do drugs or anything that can affect my health. I know I’ll never do this again, and I don’t want to have no friends for the rest of my life. Right as I start to move the cigarette toward my mouth, someone far away from us says, “What do you think you’re doing?” He sounds too old to be a kid, and he seems really disappointed and shocked. As he comes closer, he sends all of the people I am with to the principal's office, including Holly.

“Are you alright?” Why isn’t he punishing me like everyone else?

“Yea, I’m fine. Who were they?” He starts to say something about how some of them have been arrested before for vandalizing property. I’m too alarmed to hear anything else he says. He makes me promise to never talk to those people ever again. Then he directs me back into the school and into my new homeroom.

“Be careful, and don’t give into peer pressure. This is a big school, and we can’t watch everyone. If we catch you doing anything like this again, you will be punished.” Before the teacher leaves, he says, “be careful.”

Before I can thank him, he’s  already gone. I let out a sigh of relief as I walk in the direction the teacher told me to. I think it’s safe to say I’ll never smoke again. Now I know why people always tell me to never give into peer pressure in a situation like this. Now I know why I shouldn’t. Now I know that things like this can be prevented. The only thing I don’t know is why I did this. I wish I didn’t.

-Michaela DeFrancisco

Vengeance

Chapter 1: Fired

I found myself in the throne room because I had heeded the kings call to me just to find out the worst news imaginable….“You're fired,” said the king.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M FIRED?!” I hollered at him back.

“You’re fired, plain and simple.You haven’t been taking your responsibilities as a soldier seriously, so we have to release you.”  Which were some of the last words I would ever hear from the king.

I stormed out of the castle like a man that just got fired from his job, and that is exactly what happened. How could they do this to me? I thought to myself, this is an injustice to ALL castle soldiers!

I should probably introduce myself. I am Carlos Vezzo, one of the many the Limponian soldiers, and I was the most handsome one. I was so mad at the fact that I got fired, that I pushed  over a  flimsy crate of produce like a bringand shoving his victim. I loved the way that all the produce got crushed on the ground in a colorful way.  And even though the man complained, I refused to apologize; that man wasn't meant for Limponia.

The kingdom of Limponia was a beautiful but small kingdom with rich and glorious mountains and the smell of oak giving off a calming autumn feel to the atmosphere; truly glorious, the best of the five kingdoms of Wellnion.The perfect place for someone like me, but despite that I was still fired and those woods were taunting me with their beauty,their elegance, I would burn down those forests if I could!

As you can tell I was let go for “Not being good at my job.” Belch. I abhor those words, I AM OUTRIGHT SICKENED WITH THOSE WORDS!...But sadly my glorious self would never see the inside of that castle again. With my magnificent uniform gone, I felt as if I was stripped of my glory.

I reclassly approached my house in a brash a manner.  I hated my house; it was a disgusting tenement that they only sell to the poor.  It’s a disgrace that they would even consider giving me that horrid house, it’s a disgrace! I vigorously threw my sword down on the front porch.  They let me keep my sword mainly because I decorated it, and they didn't want other soldiers to use a sword with jewels and ribbon. After I entered my house, I started a bit of a tantrum. “THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE!” I shouted abruptly, “THIS SORT OF INJUSTICE DESERVES A RIOT, OUTRAGE, VENGEANCE”!.....And that’s when it came to me, vengeance.

I could start the riot; I could start the outrage; I could take revenge on Limponia. It would all be me. But I soon realized a problem in my genius plan. How would I do it? It’s not like I could just go inside the Royal castle and say, “Hey, I want vengeance, so I’m going to kill you; bye!”  Think, think Carlos, think…..I had no idea. “Will my brilliant idea be ruined by ineptitude?!” I shouted   “There has to be a way, there has to be!” ….but then I realized all of my problems would be fixed by the one thing I left on my front porch.

I snached my sword from my front porch, realizing the one thing that I needed for this plan, my sword, was in my hand! I was glad when they let me keep my sword; it was such an astonishing sight.

Glimmering jewels, boldly colored ribbons, and a glossy golden hilt; it was amazing. I would love my sword until I perished.  Beautiful swords aside, this weapon was all I needed. I could enter the kingdom, sneak into the castle, and assassinate the king in one foul blow.  And it's not like it would be hard. I’m such a magnificent fighter that taking on the king’s guards would be a snap.This is perfect! With this I will have my revenge! I thought to myself, so no one would hear my plan. I soon went to sleep, dreaming about how successful this plan would be in the long run.

            To bad that dream was a lie.

-Robert Cusato

               I would often come here. Back when I was a young dragon I would just sit out on the grand, green, itchy grass just watching the fairies fly around as the big bright sun would warm my whole body, and I’d just lay there hoping my wishes would come true. I would never have thought that someday I would have someone to share all of this with.

“Sarah, did you find a spot yet?” asked Larry.

“No, not yet,” I replied with a perplexed look, wondering if I should tell Larry the truth.  

We sat down and began to unpack our lunch. I gazed at the fairies and reminisced of times when I was young. I never wanted to fully grow up and become a dragon.  I knew everything would change. I just didn’t know the change would be so grand.

As a matter of fact, I desired to tell him right then and there.  I couldn’t take carrying around the weight of the lies I had been  holding on to.  Larry had always been very generous toward me. I always thought about how he would never lie to me in the way I usually did to him. 

“What are you thinking about right now?’’ he asked me as I stayed gazing at the fairies.

              I stuttered as I tried to speak.

At that moment I was given the chance to tell him what was on my mind, but instead I replied with something along the lines of, “I’m just thinking about us and how life would have been if we never met, or what if we met earlier. Do you think we would have ended up in the same place that we are now together?”

Larry tensed up a little bit as if he had been keeping a secret of his own; he didn’t know how to respond.

We sat there in silence for about a minute, and after that Larry began to relax. “I don’t know where I would be right now if I hadn't met you, and I don’t want to think about it. I’m just elated to be here with you,” Larry said in such a soothing voice, the type of voice a caring father would use when calming down his child.

And for a moment it was like everything around us turned black. It was as if this wasn’t reality. For a moment I thought I had just been dreaming. All of a sudden, I snapped back to what was happening, but instead of Larry being there it was two unknown people trying to get back home, walking in the snow. I didn’t question any of this; instead, I started walking with them. At that moment I had felt so safe and secure. It was like I’d known those two people walking for so long, but I had just seen them, and maybe this isn’t even reality, I thought. The two people and I started walking and laughing together. I could tell they too were dragons, but for some reason I panicked and started hitting the man. The girl started giggling, and I calmed down. Now I could see everything around me; it’s still all a blur, but I just wondered where Larry had gone.

I went back home with the two strangers I met walking in the snow. They made me feel as if I had known them for years, and I could talk to them about anything. We ate at the house. It had this feel to it. And, oh, such a familiar feel but the type that’s just indescribable. Not much happened; we ate, but I didn't eat much. I don’t know why since I’m always hungry, but I guess I was just exhausted.

After eating I went up into a bedroom I had dreamed about before. It was all like a memory, a memory from when I was young. It was all so surreal, but I felt safe. I drifted off into an amazing sleep, but by the time I woke up there I was again, sitting on the grass eating my lunch with Larry. That’s when I knew I had to tell him the truth.

-Mariana Cuevas-Ruiz

A thin metal rectangle sat on the white table in the bright room, its silver casing reflecting light onto the ceiling, still glistening thanks to being perfectly preserved.  The box-like structure was small and worn down; after all, it had been stored away for a hundred years, in a room miles beneath where it now laid, along with billions of others.  This was an important day for the modern world.  This was the first time an iPhone would be looked through.

Just behind this table, lights blinking and audio buzzing, two robots whirred in excitement, waiting patiently for the screen at the front of the room to load.  In a few moments, the social media connected to the phone would be projected onto the screen for the robots to analyze.  They were doing research on old ways of communication from the 21st century.  Finally, the screen lit up, and the robots clicked eagerly away at their control boards, anxiously awaiting the knowledge this box supposedly held.

A dozen colored squares appeared on the screen, each with a title below it.  The bots peered down at their instruction manual and found what they were looking for.  “Here it is,” said one to the other, tapping a few buttons as the multicolor icon was highlighted and the folder opened.

“Instagram,” said the second robot, scrolling through the page.  There were pictures everywhere.  They opened a post with a picture of a young girl on it.  “This is Adaline,” the robot said, looking at the post.

The next post on the page was a photo of another girl crying in the middle of a crowded room full of people eating.  “Cafeteria,” the first bot said, pointing to the screen.  As they scrolled through the comments, they read them out loud. 

“She is such a child.”

            “What was she crying about?”

            “She failed a test!  What a loser.” 

           

“Stop reading the comments, friend!”  the second bot cried out, antenna slowly changing color from a calm green to a nervous pink.  “Adaline was being mean!  Why would she share this online?” 

The first bot was confused as well.  “What a terrible friend she was being!”

They decided to move on from the photos and check other aspects of the application.  “Direct Messages- this sound like communication!”

Upon opening the messages, the robots were stunned.  

           

“Did you hear about the incident during math class today?”

            “No, what happened?”
            “This boy tripped outside and bruised his knee.  It was hilarious!  The whole class laughed!”

            “Don’t you think that’s kind of mean?”

            “No, somebody else kicked his books, too!  It was so funny.”

“I didn’t know people were so mean,” said the second robot.  “Let’s check a different icon.”  The robots clicked out of Instagram and onto a white and yellow square on the main screen.  “Snapchat,” the robot said.

“Yes,” the first bot replied as the application loaded.  They tapped some more and opened a chat.  There were many saved images in the chat that Adaline had sent, but they weren't pictures of Adaline at all.  They were all of a girl who seemed caught off guard, but not in a candid way; they were awkward and somehow wrong.  “She didn’t know anyone took these photos,” the robot remarked.

The second bot continued, metal swiftly clicking at the control board, and saw that Adaline had done this with many other people.  Sometimes there were even hateful comments.

           

“What were you thinking?”

            “You’re really ugly.”

            “That outfit is horrendous.”

           

Often, following words like these, there were replies from the people who were receiving the photos. 

           

“When did you take those?” 

The people would respond to the photos of themselves they didn’t know existed.

The bots closed out of the app in disgust and opened the icon of a bird on a blue background.  “Twitter.  Hopefully there will be something worthwhile on this one,” the first robot said as the screen loaded the Twitter threads.

Adaline’s phone was filled with negativity.  She complained about other students constantly and avoided kindness at all costs.  The chains of hate never seemed to end.  Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Tumblr...it continued on.  Every app offered a new way to talk behind someone’s back.  The robots had never imagined something as innocent as a little box of wires could cause so much harm;  after all, the robots were just boxes of wires themselves, whether they knew it or not.  Would this be the type of damage they would cause to the world in 100 years?  Or would the cost be much higher?

The robots quickly clicked out the phone, and one picked it up.  They rolled on their efficient wheels smoothly towards the open window nearby.  He threw it out the window and slammed it shut, as if the phone were to crawl back in through the opening.  Never again would they bother with the communication of the past.  A whole generation of study lost.  “How could people be so cruel to one another?”  In this new age, the humans were thought highly of.  Not anymore.

“This is why the world is in the state it is today.  The cruelty has existed forever.”

            “We have to destroy all of the phones; they are too full of bad things and terrible bullying.”

            Weeks later, the phones were removed from the tidy and unblemished repository and brought to a landfill where they were ground into the dirt.  The phones were over, and the media was finally dead.

-Nellie Cordi

I fell to my knees, the demolished remains of my village crumbling to dust.  An eerie silence filled the air. I closed my eyes, listening to the rubble of the village collapse. I curled up into a small ball, and I closed my eyes. Damn those turkeys.

I lived in a quaint village. We all lived in makeshift houses, formed out of mud and hardened clay. Our community was small, and nobody was a stranger. We looked out for each other. Even children worked hard every day. My father and I would go hunting, bringing food for all of us to eat. No one was ever full. No one ever smiled. We all knew that the day would come.

“Dad, when will we have to move again?” I asked. I took a long drink of water. “Will it be far this time too?”

“Before the leaves fall. ” His brows furrowed. “We can’t risk to be found this year. We can’t allow a tragedy to happen again.” I put down my portion of the chicken we had caught that evening. I remembered what happened last year. My appetite was gone. I looked outside at the bright green leaves that swayed in the warm, soft wind. 

“Where will we move this year?” I asked.

“We’ve scouted out an area a little deeper into the woods,” he said. “ The ground is flat and it’s close to a lake.” The chicken still remaining on my plate, I stood up and left the table. I pushed the curtains out of my face as I took a step outside. “We have a hunt early tomorrow,” Dad said as he grabbed his favorite oak-colored hat off of the table. The clay huts were sprawled out randomly, as if the earth had a bad case of zits. I walked past two or three huts, the smell of food causing my hunger to slowly crawl back. Next to one of the huts was the Danger Bell. The children were strictly told never to use it unless they came. I sat down beside my tree. It wasn’t really my property or anything, but I always came there to relax. The bark was shaped perfectly to fit my back. The scent of grass calmed me down. I closed my eyes and remembered all of our past residences. I’ve moved thirteen times now. I’m lucky that I’ve never come face to face with one of them.

My eyes fluttered open as I tried to get a hold of my surroundings. I was still sitting underneath my old oak tree, but the sun had already gone to bed. The sky was sprinkled with small glistening stars, the moon emitting an opaque glow. A single leaf danced through the air, and it landed on my hand. Thud, thud, thud. My ears perked up as I heard a distant sound. My eyes widened, and my heart began to pound. Fear crawled up my back and grasped my heart like a cold hand of a dark monster. I knew what that sound was; my Dad had told me about it in the past. I ran back towards the huts, my eyes locked onto the Danger Bell. I fumbled as I grabbed a stick and hit the bell with a loud crack. The bell sounded, releasing a loud ringing sound. I gave the bell a few more frantic hits before the a hand grabbed my shoulder. It was the village priest, Father Clark. A look of alarm shone in his eyes.

“ What happened, Matthew?” he asked.

“F-Father Clark,” I gasped for air. “ I-It’s them, they’re here.” He looked me in the eyes and gave me a quizzical look.

“What are you saying, Matthew? It’s not that time of year yet.” Others had started to gather around like a flock of vultures circling the corpse of an animal. Curiosity pulled them closer as if I had my own center of gravity. I saw my Dad come to the front of the forming crowd. He struggled to break through the rows of shoulders.

“What is this about, Son?” He looked at me with sharp eyes. He adjusted his brown hat.

I cleared my throat, “ It’s them.”

“That’s not possible, Matt.” His brows furrowed, and his hands rested on his hips. “The leaves haven’t fallen yet.”

“I-I know, but I heard them! I-I was sitting underneath the oak tree when-” I trailed off. Everyone was looking at me like I was a mad man. They didn’t believe me.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a bear or something?”

“You’re crazy.” Voices sprung up from the crowd. My brows furrowing, teeth clenching, I looked down in shame. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it was just another animal in the woods. Maybe I had just lost my mind, being stuck in this miserable village. Always running.

At that moment the trees behind the farthest hut rustled. We all looked up in surprise as three gleaming, enormous claws emerged from the shadows of the cluster of trees. The trees bent out of shape, giving way to the colossal beast. It was covered in plumes of feathers, all of them the color of spruce trees. Its head was bare and lumpy like it was covered in warts. The vivid red neck of the monster looked like its insides had been flipped out. The gargantuan beast looked at us with soulless, beady eyes. I was one of them, a turkey. We stared in awe, and everyone was speechless. I took a step back and tripped. My eyes widened, and my arms trembled. The massive creature took a heavy step, causing the earth to shake.

As if that was our signal, the crowd dispersed almost immediately. Everyone  was in a state of panic, running away frantically. Feet buckling, hands trembling, I couldn’t move. A  feeling of terror locked me down. The chains of dread gripped me tightly. The turkey let out an earth trembling screech, and it jumped into action. Claws pounding the earth; it dove right at Father Clark. He couldn’t outrun the creature, and it opened its enormous beak. In a split second, Father Clark was gone, forever trapped in the turkey’s bowel. My body trembled, and my heart began to beat like drums. The turkey had locked its eyes onto its next target. It bolted for my Uncle Sam, and it ruthlessly snapped him up. I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. The sight of it made me feel nauseous. I looked around and saw others duck into the mud huts, praying for their safety. For a split second, I was tempted to hide in one of the clay huts as well. Then the monster crushed a hut under its claws. The screaming of villagers was cut off as the rubble fell on their heads.

I scrambled to my feet, and I turned around and sprinted for the woods. I churned my legs, using all of the energy I could muster. I ran past the crumbling, cracking huts. I ran past my friends screaming for help. I ran past my tree. I only thought about moving forward. Soon the trees surrounded me, luminous shadows stalking over me. My feet bruised, and my toes bled. Heart beating, blood pumping, I ran faster than I had ever run before. My mind was only thinking about moving forward and getting away. My vision began to blur, and my body began to feel heavy. I tripped on the root of a tree, and my face plunged into dirt. I pushed myself up and gasped for air. I scrubbed my eyes and nose; the rich earthy smell of dirt filled my lungs. The horrible screaming was behind me, and I could only hear the sounds of nature. The chirping of crickets rung in my ears, and the leaves swayed in the night.

I sat against a tree. It wasn’t as comfortable as my tree. It was rough, and the small twigs poked my back. The air was cool; a soft breeze cooled my sweat. My breath was shaky, but I managed to collect my thoughts. I calmed down, and my heart beat slowed to an even rhythm. What am I doing? I thought. I-I left them back there, all of them. An image of my dad, Father Clark, and everyone else in the village appeared in my head. Tears trickled down my cheeks. I stood up and rubbed the tears off of my face. I have to go back. They might need my help. I took a step, then froze. The chilling image of Father Clark being eaten by that monster came back to me. I grabbed a branch to keep myself from falling. I swallowed hard and gritted my teeth. I began to run, back to the endless screaming.

A part of me was ready to meet the same fate as Father Clark. I ran past trees and bushes that looked familiar. I was getting close. My legs were sore, and my breaths were sharp, but I endured. I needed to continue onward. The trees and bushes became more and more sparse. The shadows cast by the forest had began to lift as the moonlight hit the grass. Finally, the trees parted, and I could see my tree. The twigs and branches disappeared, and under my feet were the soft blades of grass. Shimmering and swaying, the grass was a dark shade of green underneath the moonlight. I began to slow down, for their was no screaming. Did they escape? Or did the turkey leave? Questions began to fill my head, but I had known the answer. I slowed to a jog, and then to a walk.

I looked around. The huts were all destroyed, as if the earth had popped its zits. Enormous footprints were imprinted on the ground. “ Anyone there?” I asked in a shaky voice. There was no response. The night was silent, and the shimmering stars lit up the black sky like thousands of candles gleaming far away. A cloud covered the moon, and an eerie shadow cast over the scene. Shattered pots were scattered across the ground, and splinters layed around like thousands of tiny needles.  I walked around, and I stepped on something soft and textile. I looked down, and underneath my foot was a brown hat, the color of oak trees. I fell to my knees and bawled. The hat gripped tightly in my hands. I didn’t care if it heard me and came back. Fond memories of the villagers flashed through my brain. I couldn’t forgive the turkey, but more than that I was furious with myself. They took everyone except for me. I might have been able to stop them somehow, if I had stayed. I screamed, and I wailed. I pounded my fist on the ground, anger fueling me. I was alone. In an empty village, in a cruel world, and it was my fault. I slowly stood up. Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t know what I would do next. I have to go, I thought. I knew that no one had escaped, but I had to try and look for them. I had to make up for my wrongdoings. I couldn’t take back what I had already done, or hadn’t done.

-Tomoki Cooper