“Margaret, I love the way the crimson in this fox fur jacket compliments my strawberry blonde hair, don’t you think?” spoke Anne-Marie while she twisted her riglet  around her pointer finger.

“I look stunning as well. We are two beautiful wealthy young ladies,” screeched Margaret.

Both Margaret and Anne-Marie were upper class ladies living in the 1930’s. Both were arrogant, spoiled rotten, not giving a care in the world when others could barely eat. This was the Great Depression.

            Both of the girls stridded out of Monices furs. Their stride was very pretentious. Margaret flaunted the LV on her Louis Vuitton; it was as though  she wanted the whole world to see it. The store was screaming  money. From the perfect landscape, exactly the same amount of petunias, to  lillis, to the sales woman who had costume fitted uniforms. A few blocks away from the store the ladies traveled down  Manor street. The street was home to the extremely poor and reeked of the sewer.  It smelled as though 200 toilets had overflowed into the street. Margaret insisted that they go down that street, for she said it was quicker, and yet it was, but why that street? It was mainly because Margaret felt better when she flaunted her luxurious items at lesser people; this was an action that made her feel superior. Later, the ladies stumbled into the path of wretched filthy animal-like people begging for money. They spotted a man that looked a little over fifty. The man looked horrendous; he only had two front teeth in his whole mouth and they were as black as charcoal.

            “Ladies, will you please give me some money, I have four young children at home? I beg you.”

“I’ll give you something,’’ said Margaret in a genuine way.

            “Thank you, Ma'am. Your generosity is very appreciated,” said the man. A moment of hope shot through the man's eyes, thinking of all the things he could buy, and they were not fit for children.

Margaret reached into her purse, reaching for her wristlet. She pulled out her Louis Vuitton wristlet. The wristlet and the bag were both from the spring collection, imported from Venice, Italy.

Margaret pulled out a five dollar bill. The bill looked as though it was just printed; it had the crisp fresh look and not a speck of dirt. The man looked as though he saw the most precious thing in the world. For most people it would be. He reached up for the five dollars when Margaret spat on him.

“Happy Holidays!” spoke Margaret in a sarcastic way. When she said this her teeth glimmered in the sunlight. The way the sun hit her teeth made them look as though they were thousands of dollars, which they were. Her father spared no expense for his daughter.

“I actually thought you were going to give that animal money. If that man begged for money, I would have told him to get himself off  that ground and get a damn job. I wonder how some people can be so lazy? All they do is terrorize the upper class,” Anne Marie spoke in an aggravated way. While she did this she dug her nails into her palms.

“I put that piece of crap in his place,” Margaret said in a dignified manner.

“John and I will be out for dinner at the Grand Sea, would Gerold and you like to come?’’ asked Margaret.

“Your offer is very gracious. I will ask Gerold if he can attend. However, I am not sure if he will, due to the fact that his bedridden father is at the cusp of being taken into God's hands,” spoke Anne-Marie in a sincere manner. Anne-Marie couldn’t have cared less about the man. She thought of him as the one obstacle that was keeping her away from her fortune.

Gerold and John were the two men Anne-Mary and Margaret were dating. John was in his early 30’s and a very successful lawyer that defended the big businesses in lawsuits. He was notorious for being a ladies’ man. As for Gerold, his family came from wealth. Gerold’s father was  a big businessman. He always seemed to know the stocks to invest in. Many envied how successful he was. As for his son, he was wise but could not predict the future like his father, which he needed to do since the business would be passed on to him.

Margaret waited at the door of her parents’ estate, waiting for Garrett to come open the door. The estate was set back a little over a mile from the main road, and it was very rural yet not warm and welcoming like an average country house. Nothing in the house was designed for comfort, only to impress anyone who shall see it. “Finally, you open the door. What took your repulsive self so long?”

“I thank you for the generous compliment, my lady,” spoke Garrett in a flattered childish way.

“You are a complete imbecile,” spoke Margaret in a playful manner. Sometimes  she thought it was hysterical that Garrett was such an idiot. But other times she was merely maddened by how idiotically he acted.

“Garrett, call or ride into town to tell Lucinda I would like to make an appointment for another custom gown,” spoke Margaret in a demanding order. As Garrett looked  at her, he looked like a child playing dress up. The way the clothes hit the obese man made himself look revolting.

“My lady, you have just ordered one yesterday,” spoke Garret in a seemingly humble way.

“I have some grand news! Your wages will be cut in half for insulting me like this. Anne-Marie was right, all the lower class do is pester and terrorizer the upper class. If you insult me one more time you will be fired in an instant, ” spoke Margaret  while flicking her hair away.

“Yes, my lady.’’

“You better shut your homely animal-like mouth right now,” screamed Margaret in an infuriated tone as her eyes widened. The blood vessels in her eyes were a fiery red; they looked like they would burst at any moment.

A few hours later, Anne- Marie telephoned the house.

“My lady, it is Anne-Marie. She has some urgent news,” spoke Garrett in an obedient manor.  Margaret snached  the telephone out of Garrett’s hand.

“Gerold and I will be able to attend. What time shall be arrive?’’

“I had Garrett make a reservation for 7:30 pm. I wonder if that stupid imbecile could ever figure out how to do that. I wonder why my mother and father don’t fire that piece of crap?”

“He is not very smart. I’ll see you there.”

At that very instant, Anne-Marie hung up. Margaret could go on and on about her life problems.

Margaret daintily stood up out of the Bentley, having John hold her hand as she did so. When she did so, she made sure she didn’t step on the tiniest piece of dirt. Margaret had a dazzling silk dress that was from China, the hand painted flowers glistened in the moon’s light. “You look as beautiful as always,” spoke John in a flirty manor.

“Oww stop.”

Even though Margaret had said this, she never wanted the compliments to stop; for any man she was tempting. Slender body, a little over 5’4’’, she looked as though she stepped right out of a magazine. She was covered in small freckles from head to toe. Her jet black hair didn’t have the slightest highlight of brown, and her pin straight hair didn’t have the slightest wave. Even though she had these dark features, she still looked so warm and gracious, which she was not.

The dinner constituted of roasted king crab and prestigious Italian clams. The dinner mainly consisted of the men boasting about their success, which adored the ladies with  the things they could possibly have if they were to wed these millionaire men.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Margaret, it is Anne-Marie. She says this news is crucial,” spoke Garrett humbly as always.

Margaret walked over in a happy way. She gently took the telephone out of  Garrett's hand, which was surprising for her.

“Margaret, guess what? Yesterday night Gerold proposed to me. The ring is stunning . It is a 24-carat diamond ring, which is surrounded by sapphires, my birth stone,” screeched Anne-Marie. You would have thought she would kill herself doing this. The ring was custom designed by Gerold and William Grett. William was a flamboyant jeweler from London England.

“I am very glad for you,” spoke Margaret, pretending to be joyous. If anything, this upset Margaret very much. Having Anne-Marie do something before her was unheard of.  Margaret was the first one of them to be courting someone. Anne-Marie was always the follower until now. Now Margaret was the follower, which upset her of the most.

The rest of the day, Margaret lay in her canopy bed, the turquoise and baby blue curtains draped effortlessly over the bed frame. She was wondering if there was something she had done to make John despise her. But really there was nothing she did.

“Margaret, please come down to the parlor. There is an urgent matter we must attend to,” spoke Mr. Mattler in  a nervous voice.

“Yes, Father, I will attend. I don’t think anything could be as urgent as what just occurred to me,” spoke Margaret in an upset tone.

“Margaret, will you just come down to the parlor and stop all this nonsense!” Mr. Mattler said this in a furious tone. This was very unusual for Mr. Mattler, for he was a happy go lucky type of person.

“I have made a decision that will cost us greatly. A few weeks ago I invested in this stock that seemed to be booming, and yet a few weeks later it abruptly crashed. I invested more than I should have in this, which I feel remorseful about. This impulsive decision will cause us to sell the house. Bills are due in a few weeks; I don’t have anywhere enough money to pay for this. I need you to begin packing your stuff up. If you need help, Garrett will help you.”

“Father, I don’t know what to say about this. There is no single word to describe what I feel. What about John and Anne-Marie? I won’t be able to see them. They may not even want to have a relationship with me. I will just be this formerly rich broke girl. I hate you, I mean this sincerely,” screamed Margaret.

Margaret knocked on the wooden carved door of John’s house. The door had carved angels and and roses on it.  The angels had such a warm welcoming face, which was ironic for John’s house.  Margaret hoped that John would be her angel.

“Margaret, what are you doing here at this hour?’’ asked John, looking sleep-deprived.

“My father made this stock investment that backfired. To say this bluntly, my family and I are all but broke. I guess we can either elope or I will leave you, to move wherever it is best for my family.”

John stood there in shock. He didn’t know how to respond to this unexpected advent.

“Margaret, I am sorry to say this, however I do not want to marry a less valuable human. Margaret, I can’t humiliate myself like this. I could just see it, the front page of the newspaper; well known lawyer John McCormick saves formerly rich girls from the sweatshops. Now will you please leave.  I don’t want to be seen with this sweatshop animal!” Spoke John very sternly; you could hear his voice echo off the acoustic ceiling of his townhouse.

Margaret decided not to even tell her best friend Anne-Marie. The way that John reacted was irrational and surprising for her. She did not want to be pushed around again, for who knew how irrational Anne-Marie would behave?

“Father, I can’t believe that John threw me out like a piece of paper. He heard that I had only myself to offer. I would have no dowry to give him, and then he rejects me like I am nothing to him,’’ spoke Margaret in a enraged tone. After all, a swipe of a pen can be your fate.

-Maeve Segrue

Chapter One

It was the fall of 2013, and Peter Ricci was running out of reasons to live.

The stroke wasn’t too bad. The loneliness that followed was much worse, along with the incessant irritation that the underpaid nurses in the hospital provided. Peter was now dependent on others for the first time in his life. The nurses in the hospital cleaned his bedpan, made his sheets, and occasionally shaved his greasy fraying hair. They also took him on wheelchair rides around the hospital twice a week, where he would meet children that curiously stared at Peter until their parents chastised them for being rude. Without the nurses, he was confined in the four blank, alabaster walls of his hospital room. But Peter hated those nurses. They spoke to him in a patronizing tone, as if he was one of the senile patients in the hospital sector. But he wasn’t. He was still sharp enough to understand that he was being disrespected.

Nurses frequently entered his room to service him and asked him questions like, Do you need any more pillows? and Do you want any water? They were mostly stupid rhetorical questions that could figure out themselves. It didn’t matter if he answered them, either. The nurses couldn’t understand him. Every time he tried to speak, a distorted slurred noise in his mouth came out instead. The stroke caused him to have dysarthria, a speech disorder. His doctors assured him that his speech problems were only temporary, but Peter didn’t believe a word of that. They said the same about his inability to walk as well, and his feet hadn’t touched the ground for two years.

The room across from Peter’s was a shoddy break room for off-duty nurses, where they stashed things like booze and cigarettes that made the whole sector smell like death. A group of nurses were lounging there, howling with drunken laughter, paying no mind to the patients that they were disturbing. The painful wheezes from their tar-caked lungs kept him on edge. It was probably the one with the crooked nose laughing right now, or perhaps the round one who wouldn’t even follow his own advice on nutrition. Peter looked at his own stomach through the light hospital blanket and laughed. He could stick one of his frail fingers in his gut and touch his spine.

Peter had nothing to do. He could watch the television like the other senile patients in the hospital, but where was the enjoyment in that? All he wanted to do was walk. Besides, the television was blocked by a series of intricate tubes and wires that snaked in and out, constantly reminding Peter about how he was even alive right now.

Peter stared at the framed photos that rested atop a small auburn table. It was a picture of his ex-wife, Brenda, and his kids. He didn’t want it there. A close relative of his decided it would cheer him up, but it did the exact opposite. Pete couldn’t really protest either.

If only she could see me now. Cooped up in a little room and rotting away.

Of course, she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Neither did his kids that were in her custody. But it would be nice to just see her just once. Just once.

As the day darkened, Peter’s mood did too. The boredom of staying in the hospital was like a monotonous drum beating against his head every day. He noticed that he had recently started to absentmindedly fondle the container of Excedrin by his nightstand, like it was a dog. They were for the bed sores that Peter frequently experienced because the nurses kept forgetting to move him around in his bed, but Peter also took them for the headaches that he had.

His mind flashed back to his family. All the good times he had. All the swing rides and camping trips. All the times he supported his children and wife.

And how they repaid him by battling for custody in court.

What do you have to live for? You will never get better, and you will never leave this house. And if you do get better, what will you do next? Hide in your run-down tenement and drink Ciroc until you lose your grip on the world?

Just ten should do the trick, he thought. Pain relief required two, maybe three sometimes. But Pete didn’t want that.

The excedrin bottle was on the far end of the small nightstand today. One of the nurses had moved it when she fed it to him. Taking a deep breath, Peter strained himself with all the strength that he could summon to turn over in his bed. He didn’t usually take them by himself. The nurses always helped crush the pills down and put them in his feeding tube. But he couldn’t call a nurse over. They would stop him right in his tracks. Sweat beads started to steadily gather on his forehead now. Pete was getting dizzy from his headache.

Almost. There.

Pete reached out with his hand, desperately grasping for the excedrin, rejoicing a bit when he finally was within reach of the bottle. However, at the last second, in a burst of poor motor control, he knocked the bottle over, and it fell off the nightstand. Peter slid his arm back in defeat and cursed himself for being so weak. He could’ve ended it all today, and he missed his opportunity. Perhaps he would have more luck tomorrow, after he endured another hellish-

“Hello?” A nurse peeked into Pete’s room. “Sorry for dropping by. I heard something in this room. Is everything alright?”

“Yes.” Peter grimaced. “I seemed to have dropped my Excedrin. Can you please help me pick it up?”

The nurse frowned. “You shouldn’t take it by yourself, you know.”

“Go die,” Pete mumbled.

“What did you say?”
            “I said that I know. I just had a sore back and I didn’t want to disrupt any of you.”
            The nurse, clearly not comprehending what Peter said, glanced at him. She picked up the excedrin bottle and placed it on a table in the corner of the room, far away from Pete’s grasp.

“Okay then. Do you want me to help you take it now?”
            “No, thank you. The pain seems to be residing.”

The nurse took one last suspicious glance at Pete and finally turned and left his room.  “If you need anything, just press the service button by your night stand,” she called out.

The door gently shut, and when Pete finally heard her footsteps dim, he cried himself to sleep.

…………………

Peter woke up to find a strange man in his room sitting in a visitor’s chair. His hair was combed to the side, and he was wearing a pair of aviators that hid a pair of eyes that were clearly fixated upon Pete. His chin was partially concealed by a bundle of beige scarves that rested upon an expensive looking jacket. It seemed like he had been there for quite a while.

            There was a moment of awkward silence between the two. Peter just stared at the strange man in his room. He looked a bit familiar to Pete, and Pete started to wonder where he had seen him from. But before he could fully flesh that thought out, the man with the sunglasses spoke.

“Hello, Peter. I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Barry,” Sunglasses Man said. “You might think that we will have a conversation barrier because of your… condition,” he pointed his finger at Peter’s slacked jaw, “but I can assure you. I will understand everything you say.”

“Why should I speak with you?” Pete growled.

Barry readjusted himself in his chair, straightening his posture. Pete sat up higher as well, resting his throbbing back on a pillow.

“Good question, Peter.  Before I answer that, let me ask my own. Why did you try to commit suicide with excedrin last night?”

“How did yo-”

“Well, that was absolutely stupid. Excedrin would just have you puking out your intestines by the next day. It’s not really a practical way to kill yourself.”

“How did you know? I wasn’t even close to getting the excedrin.”

Barry smiled. “I have my ways, Pete.”

Peter was furious now.  “Get out.”
            “Not yet. But I will, soon.”  Barry leaned forward and took his aviators off. Pete could see his eyes now. They were yellow, like a cat’s eyes, full of a ferocity that Pete had not seen from him yet.  “How long have you been in here, Pete?”
            “About a year now.”

“Your health is deteriorating, Pete. You’re indulging from one vice to the next. You can’t keep living like this. You need somebody to talk to, Pete, and I think I fit that role quite well.”

Barry stood up. “We will meet again, Peter. I’m sure of it.”  And with that, he left the room, leaving barely a trace of his visit behind.

Pete shook his head, still dumbfounded by Barry’s sudden appearance.  Who was that and why did he visit me?

-George Qu

How He Came

Chapter Two

(Chapter One can be found in the Our Writing tab titled 2017-2018: Independent Writing Piece)

Emily

A boy with inky black hair and icy blue eyes is helping me pick up all the papers that fell from my hand.

“Oh my, I am so sorry,” he says to me. His voice is a bit raspy, as if he has been screaming for a while.

“It’s okay,” I say to him. I look at him for a few seconds. He’s studying me. Heart pounding, my eyes flicker back to the tiled ground of the hallway. It’s getting hot in here. Finally, he hands me the papers.When he spins around I catch sight of the familiar bomber jacket, the same type of bomber jacket that was the start to all my pain. My throat starts to close up. Tears well up in my eyes.

“Again, I’m sorry for knocking you over. I usually watch my step.” He starts to laugh, thinking it is funny. Then he stops abruptly.

He looks at me and asks, “Hey,”in a soft voice, “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, but it sounds more like a croak to me. Tears blinding, I push past him. I start walking down the sudden, claustrophobic hallway. The blue and yellow lockers blurr by me.

“Hey, wait up!” I don’t. I just want out of this hall, out of this wing, out of this school.  Mind racing, I sprint out of the library wing. I stop when I reach the front door, thinking about all the times I used to walk out with a smile on my face instead of tears streaming down. I heave a strangled breath. I push the metal door open. I walk out into the vacant parking lot. I turn in a circle; it is as empty as my soul. I turn back to the direction of my bike and hop on.

           

～～～～～～～～

“MOMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Emy's home!!” Levin yells as I enter the house. He’s always home earlier than me. He attends Frazzleberry Elementary School. He loves it.

“Levin, come here, Buddy!” I stand in the bright, open foyer with my arms wide open, waiting for him to run into them. This has become our ritual for the last year. He always wants to cheer me up.

“Emy!!” he yells. Grabbing ahold of the hem of my shirt, he hoists himself up. Arms cradling, we walk into the kitchen. We walk like a mama and baby gorilla.

The kitchen is huge and wide open. When you walk in, all you see is the glossy island with all the chef appliances. All the light from the windows radiates almost a heavenly feel into the kitchen. Mother is baking cookies right smack in the middle, which makes her look almost like an angel.

“So tell me, Emily, how was school?” she asks as I walk in. My mother is covered in flour. She looks frantic, like a deer caught in headlights. Even though she’s a mess, my mother is beautiful. She has platinum blonde hair and stormy gray eyes. Her usual is her scrubs, lab coat and stethoscope around her neck. Right now in the kitchen, she’s wearing a worn out t-shirt and black yoga pants.

“It was okay.” I go over to my waiting mother and give her a light peck on the check. Her small smile grows into a full on grinn. I turn to go, but mother tugs on my arm. She pulls me toward her and wraps her strong arms around me. With a squeeze, she lets me go.

With a plate of cookies in hand, I walk up into my room ready to cry myself to sleep. Today’s events have taken a toll on me. I walk to my bookshelf to get a book, but as I see the picture frame, I neglect the book and go straight to crying.

Jaden

Running four laps around the football field after practice is just awful. My limbs and muscles are worn out. As we run into the locker room to finally change, take a shower and go home, Coach Matty Patty slapps our backs.

“Great job, boys, we got this game in the bag,” he says. Like always, the locker room is too full with all the guys. The locker room smells of cheap products and sweat. I wait almost a half an hour to just go take a shower. Then the waiting for Luke. He takes his sweet time, so I’m left in the locker room doing homework.

Seating on the rough, creaky bench, I plot a revenge plan on Luke. I vividly imagine all the things I could use to get revenge on him. Maybe scaring him and videotaping it. Luke screams like a girl. He screams like a girl who is finding out she’s wearing the same outfit as someone else. I smirk to myself, I’m going to have a good time with this.

“Jaden, man, how are you?” I look up, and standing there is my arch nemesis, Calvin Luther. There was a time in ancient history when we were friends. We would do everything together, soccer and football mainly. One day in middle school I had a girlfriend.  She has dark brown hair and chocolate color skin with bright gray eyes.  She was a very petite girl, but I loved the way she made me laugh and feel happy. One day Calvin was talking to her like any other day, but turns out he was trying to provoke her to cheat on me. With his golden hair and green eyes, any girl would do what he says so they can have a chance with him. Calvin’s known as the golden boy when it comes to girl groups. The next day I find a note in my locker saying she detests me and she found someone else that is much better than me. That was the day when he turned into my arch nemesis.

“I’m good. How about you?”

“Oh…. I’m doing amazing. Clara, she is just amazing. You should meet her. She’s beautiful too.” He throws a smirk over his shoulder and walks away.

           

～～～～～～～～

“Helloooooooooooooooo/It’ssssss meeeeeeeeeeeeeee/I’ve beennnnnn wondering/ If afterrrrrrr allllllllll theseeeeeeeee yearssssssssssss you’ve likedddd to beeeeeeee ………..” The windows are down and the fresh air is soothing, like always.The sun is going down and the birds are chirping. Luke and I have this thing were we scream song lyrics at the top of our lungs after practice.

“Boys, quiet down!!!!!” a lady yells at us from across the street. She’s watering her plants,  and her dog is running circles around her. That’s when we usually stop. I slow the speed down on my truck.

“Jaden….,” Luke says. He is a bit out of breath because of all the screaming. “Do you want to come in?” I stop at the foot of his driveway. Luke lives at the typical family friendly home. Clean cut lawn, flower pots, and white picket fences.

“No, it’s okay.” Luke’s deep brown hair is a mess. His face is flush red, which contrasts with his amber eyes. He jumps out of the car like a predator pouncing on its prey.

He goes up to his front door and hugs his mom with that look in his eyes. We almost lost his mother to cancer. She has been battling for four years, and finally she’s cancer free. I remember the dark ages; Luke would sneak into my house because he was all alone and he didn’t want to think about all the “What ifs.”  His mother now is healthy and strong. She has kept her head bald to showcase all the struggles she has been through. Her bald head also reminds her that life is too short. If you want to do something, then do it today and not tomorrow.

“Son, how was practice?” Luke is an exact clone of his father. The difference between them is that now his dad has some wrinkles around the eyes.

“Great.” Luke has that tight family that loves one another. I can’t say the same thing about my family.

“Jaden, Son, are you staying for dinner?”

“No Mr.Maddox. My momma is expecting me home soon.”

“Ok, Son. Drive safe.” Ever since I was a child both Mr. and Mrs. Maddox called me Son. They both want another child, but it didn’t happen, so I was their second child. They love me like I’m their own.

I always cut through neighborhoods to get home instead of taking the highway.  I love the feel of fresh air circulating through my truck. I love to see all the families sitting on their porches, reading or fighting with one another.

I see someone I recognize, so I stop the truck to the side and see if I should say hi. Out of all the people it could be, it’s Emily. I always liked her, not in the girlfriend way but in the friend way. She has that aspect about her before everything changed. Once her life took a different course, Emily wouldn’t smile, make jokes or laugh. It’s as if the light in her all of a sudden went out. I love the sound of her laughter. It’s as hardy as my momma’s green bean casserole. The Emily now is a distant and sorrowful person. She always had a glow to her, only one person brought that out in her, and that person is gone. She starts to walk by with a kid holding onto her hand. I finally risk the glance at her face. My mouth goes agape. It isn’t the usual scold or the tears she had in her eyes like the other day. It is a genuine a smile. The smile lights up her face. She is smiling with joy in her eyes. I can’t even remember the last time she smiled like that. It’s looks beautiful.  She then looks down at the kid and kisses him on the head. I decide, why not go say hi.

-Leah Punnoose

Chapter One

I heard yelling and a few crashes, but I struggled to listen. It was too painful to hear. I writhed in my velvety bed as I tried to fall back asleep. I looked outside through the glossy glass window. Lights flickered off in the houses beside mine as the light moved away from my view, and the stars came out. I shifted onto my back and closed my eyes. 1, 2, 3… and then I heard a crash that reverberated throughout the house. I looked towards the end of my bed where a dog laid. His coat was pure white like snow with small black spots all over. He slept on his side with his legs stretched out far behind him. I petted the small dog as he breathed quietly in and out. He methodically moved closer and leaned on me. I stroked his cloud-like fur as I fell into a deep sleep.

           

I peacefully woke up, hearing no noise except for the snores that came from Oreo. I looked out the window to see the sun peeking from behind the tall trees with the warm colored leaves. I listened carefully for any stentorian voices. When I heard none, I believed it would be a good time to head downstairs.

I feebly walked down the soft, white stairs that felt like cotton beneath my feet as I held onto the light brown, wooden railing and peered into the kitchen where my parents usually were. I looked around the house at the piles of books and papers in front of the large cabinets the same color as the railing on the stairs, but I saw no one. Oreo steadily walked down the stairs and headed in the direction of the family room.

“Hello?” I said softly.

“Ruby? In here.” It was my mother’s voice. It sounded very frail.

I followed where the noise was coming from. “Mom? Da-,” I gandered straight into my mom’s pink eyes, her light brown, wavy, unkempt hair covering most of her face. She wore a light beige jacket over her white shirt. She held a tissue that had many rumples and had a box in front of her. She clenched them in her hands as she avoided eye contact. “Mom? Mom, what’s wrong?” I whispered worriedly as I stirred closer to her. She looked at me as she grabbed my hand circumspectfully. “Mom, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” Her gaze shifted towards me as she opened her mouth, but then she bit her lip and shook her head. Heart pounding, I sat down next to her on the light brown couch. She squeezed my hand and then placed her head on my shoulder. There we sat for the rest of the day, tears rolling down our cheeks.

Eyes focused, I stare intently at the piece of glossy paper in my hand that is full of color, and most importantly, happiness. I count the number of people in the picture. 1,2...3. I fight back the water that is forming in my eyes. It has already been a couple months since the accident, but it still hurts as much as it did before. All of us were smiling and content when we were camping. No one was upset with anyone else. We were all just having a good time.

“Ruby?” My mom says as she knocks on the white, wooden door that leads to my room. I quickly place the picture under my Social Studies textbook and swiftly open my Biology textbook.

“Yeah, Mom?” I say as I pick up a pencil from my pure white desk.

“Dinner is ready, come and eat.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” I say as I look at my textbook and start reading from an indiscriminate section of the chapter. “Just let me finish this question.”

“Alright, take your time,” she says as she leaves the room. When the footsteps stop, I wait a few seconds before I take out the photo and look at it again.

-Dilni Pathirana

Eric Miller was very hot one day. He sauntered over to his window and opened it a crack. When he returned back to his bed he started to goggle at his new wallpaper. It was a memorizing blue with alluring doves on it. After a interminable staring contest with one of the hoary doves, he started to look around his room. Eric’s room had one small closet, a full sized bed and a small window. After Eric was bored with looking around his room, he went back to staring at the engrossing dove. After a while Eric’s eyes started to water as if they were waterfalls. When he blinked the dove’s left wing came off the wallpaper. Eric started to rub his eyes. When he opened his eyes the right wing came off. Eric sprung out of his bed like a rabbit. Finally, the dove’s body came off the wall, and  it flew out the window. After Eric saw the dove disappear into New York City’s skyline, he bolted downstairs and got one of his nurses. He grabbed the nurse’s hand and lugged her into to his room, on the top floor. When they got to Eric's room they were out of breath.

“Eric, why did you pull me up here?” Nurse Betty said, panting.

“A dove on my wall paper flew out my window, look for yourself,” Eric said, pointing at the edge of the wall connecting to his open window.

“Eric, I see nothing. Lay down and I will get Nurse Sally.” Nurse Betty scurried out of Eric’s room.

Eric was a billionaire who went crazy when his wife and son were killed in a car crash. He pushed away all his friends and sold everything he owned. He only wore pajamas now. He bought a three story building in New York City. He hired five full time nurses who lived in the building. A doctor came twice a week on Sunday and Wednesday. All of the nurses were in his will.

When the two nurses returned with three needles instead of only one needle, Eric started to question the nurse's decision to use more than one needle. They put all three needles into his right arm. He fell into a very, very deep sleep.

He started to dream. The first dream was good, but the second was a horrible nightmare.

It was a cold, icy night, and Eric was making his son, Lucas, go to indoor lacrosse. Both his wife, Ann, and son, Lucas, didn't want to go out. On the way home from the high school, Ann was trying to stop at a red light, but there was a huge patch of ice. The car didn't stop and an overloaded 18 wheeler, which was going over the speed limit, rammed the small sports car. It was like the sports car was a tin can. Lucas died right away since the truck hit the passenger side. Ann was rushed to the hospital. Eric drove to the hospital as fast as he could. Eric ran to his wife's room on the third floor. Ann died before he could get to her. He started to hear voices, “you killed them, they died because of you, you are worth nothing.” Eric started screaming like he was just shot. He started to attack doctors and anyone in the hallways. Security tackled him to the ground. No one pressed charges, but the court suggested that he would hire nurses to control him.

The nightmare wasn’t a nightmare at all, it was Eric’s past. A past that could drive the best person in the world insane. A past that could make you want to take your own life, to be with the ones you love. 

Eric woke up early the next morning. He sat up in bed and started to stare at the wall paper again. A bird came off the wallpaper, then another one, then another one. They swarmed Eric and picked him up. The window was still open from the night before, and the bevy of doves started towards the small window. Eric didn’t think he would fit out the window, so he braced himself for impact.  Eric closed his eyes and hoped for the best. When Eric opened his eyes, he wasn’t about to faceplant into a wall but flying through the dark sky of New York City. Eric became scared, then interested, then joyful. He was no longer having a terrible moment, but a phenomenal moment. Every horrible thing slipped his mind.  He was like a kid on the first day of summer break.

When the birds finally flew him back to his third floor bedroom, the sun was just coming over the horizon. Eric felt like he was outside flying for only minutes, but he was really out there for hours.

Nurse Sally and Betty were the only people up besides him. They were doing very evil business. They were plotting how to kill Eric. Before Ann died Betty and Sally were great friends with Ann, their old college roommate. When Ann died and Eric became insane, they felt bad for him, so they decided to become Eric's nurses. They just signed the contract, not reading that it stated that they had to live in Eric's asylum and that they could not take time off, even if they were sick. They started to get sick of it, so they started to plot their evil plans.

They finally found the perfect time. They were going to send the other nurse on vacation. Once they were far away, they were going to overdose Eric and give him an undetectable poison in his needles.

That night, Betty and Sally put the poison in the needle. Eric was lying in his bed, reading his favorite book. Sally came in his room first.

“Eric, me and Betty need to give you a quick shot to help you get back to sleep,” said Sally.

“Sally, I don’t think I need to go back to sleep, but thank you,” said Eric.

Then Betty came in with a small needle.

            “It won’t hurt at all, Eric, and you need your rest if you think you can play chess today,” said Betty in an annoyed voice.

“Fine, if it doesn’t hurt,” said Eric casually.

“Here you go, see you on the flip side, Eric,” said Betty in an evil voice. Then the walls started to shake and the birds started to come off the wall paper. They started to cover up Betty, Sally, and Eric. Then the room went black.

A small light started to shine in the distance; it got closer and closer. When it was finally close enough, Eric could see Ann and Lucas, standing in front of a pearly gate.

“Welcome,” said Ann and Lucas together as the gate opened slowly. 

-Riley Mitchell

Chapter 1

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t on this earth.  Most wouldn’t understand where I’m coming from even if I tried to explain.  A world where, ‘imaginary friends’ you could say, still exist.

At this time of the evening, I know Dan is taking his daily nap, therefore, I do not want to wake him.   Dan is my mom’s boyfriend.  His hobbies include sleeping, drinking and, well, sleeping.  As I tiptoe down the stairs, lips sealed and fists clenched,  trying hard not to get caught, I flinch a bit as I reach the last step.  My lack of balance causes me to wobble and  almost fall, nearly waking the sleeping giant. 

Right as I think I am in the clear, I hear a groggy, “Hey Kiddo.”  It’s Dan.  In one hand he holds a remote to the TV, and in the other hand is a bottle of God knows what.   “Where are you off to?”

I find it comical how he pretends to care what I’m up to.  For all I care I can go fly across the world unnoticed.

“Just some homework,” I respond hastily, tearing my binder open.

The homework reply is a go to response.  If I’m feeling fancy, I might respond with, ‘I’m going to a friend’s house.’  The amusing part is that I don’t have any friends.   Over the years, I’ve learned to keep the responses as brief as possible for numerous reasons.  One being even if I did conjure up a somewhat lengthy response, all I would get in response is a simple nod.  Two, they just don’t care.

My ‘family’ lives near the woods, to what seems like us being isolated from the outside world.  In ways to me it’s more like a forest, because when you enter, there’s nothing but trees for miles.  Quite honestly, I find it calming knowing that when I enter those woods I am alone… ish.

For now, I lay on my duvet with butterflies plastered over it like it’s some sort of butterfly sanctuary, the glow on the dark stars on my ceiling distracting me from reality and my imagination.  Somehow, no matter what I am thinking of, my head keeps wandering back to a specific tree with leaves as green as freshly cut grass in the spring and flowers that sprout from every square inch of the expanse.  The image is vivid in my head.  That means only one thing.  My friend’s calling me from the woods.

“I’m leaving!” I shout from my room.

I stroll through the front door with ease, knowing that nobody will care to question me where I am headed.  I’ve made this journey more times than I can count. Embedded in my head is a map to my friend.  When I said I had no friends, I lied.  Sort of.  Most people wouldn’t count my friend as a friend because it is not visible to any other human eye but mine. Nonetheless, I can confide in him when needed, and he is the most trustworthy creature I have ever met.  Ever since my dad died in a car crash six years ago, this creature has been what seems to be summoning me.  Call me delusional, but it almost seems like my dad is trying to communicate with me through this creature. 

After a solid ten minutes of twists and turns, I find myself face to face with the Tree.  I inch closer and closer, mindful of my surroundings but not timid, until I can just barely feel the bark on my skin, ridged and coarse, yet still soothing to the touch.  There is the slightest indent marked on the tree that only the most observant will spot.  This mark is approximately the size of a toddler's hand.  As usual, I reach out and tap on the center of the mark twice.  I wait for what seems like an hour.  Just as I’m about to tap again, the ground beneath me rumbles, causing me to jolt slightly.  In an instant, my friend appears before me. 

“Hello Katherine.”

“Hi Max,” I roll my eyes. “You know I despise being called that.”

“Precisely why I do it, Kate.”

Yes, Max can be a pain, but he’s all I have.

-Maggie McFerran

Chapter One:

Cleaning up Broken Glass

Heart pounding, body shaking, I sat shocked in a cluster of broken glass. The sound of high pitched ringing popped my ear drums with a raging pain. Cold blood trickled from where the shard of possible windshield was imbedded in my calf. The smell of smoke lingered in the air and stung my nose. I could taste salty blood settling in a pool around my dry tongue. On the left of me lay my stone cold sister where she had been ejected too. Medical assistants were gathered around her, trying to determine her medical state. She wasn’t conscious, but she wasn’t dead. Two red-blaring ambulances were parked yards away like identical flames. To my right crouched a young lady with dark brown hair and kind blue eyes. Her pained smile twinkled in the headlights of the medical truck. Her dark green scrubs revealed a rectangular white patch that was stitched in the top left corner of her shirt. In light blue letters the tag read “ Angie.” That was a “PTA mom” kind-of-name. I liked it though.

I could see Angie’s  lips moving, but no words came out. She reached her hand out as a gesture to join her, but I didn’t budge. I turned my head to look at my sister. She was lifted onto a stretcher and was taken into an ambulance. The truck pulled out of the trashed forest and  disappeared into the cold, murderous night. Branches were flung everywhere; tire marks inscribed the grass.  This accident had been atrocious.

The air started to release a calming January snow that cooled my gashes and wounds. By morning I’m sure we would have a white dusting on all the pine trees and bushes. The moonlight was bright and the damp street was foggy. The red sirens flashed onto the dark wooded trees.  I started to regain the sounds of the world. The first sound was Angie.

“Honey... Honey, can you hear me?”  I looked at her in acknowledgement, and she continued to talk. “ You can?! Oh good! Can you tell me what your name is?”  My name. I hesitated at the question, still trying to regroup from the crash.

“M...My name is Heather... Brooks. I’m Heather Brooks.”

“Hey Heather,” she said in a sweet, mother-like voice. “Can I ask you a few questions?” I nodded slowly. “ Great! First, let’s go to the ambulance over there, okay?” It definitely was of no interest of mine to go inside that medical trap, but I needed to be with my sister at the hospital, so I agreed. Knees trembling, I stood up, and pain struck my entire body. I let out a yelp. Angie scooped me up and brought me to the truck. My sister had already been taken back to the hospital. Inside the truck was bright, and it gave me a headache. As I was placed on an uncomfortable cot, Angie continued to talk.

“Can you feel any pain?” she asked.

“Yeah a lot, especially in my leg. Also my shoulder feels a bit … disconnected.” 

By now we were flying down the streets as the vehicle's sirens blared through the reticent night. Snow was starting to fall harder now. Outside was a big blur.   The woman nodded and motioned her hand over to two other men in the truck. She first pointed to a pale beanstalk with a solemn look on his face. “That’s Caleb,” she said. Then she pointed to a muscular, bronze man with a black stubble beard on his face. He seemed like he would be considered an “America’s Next Dream Husband” kind-of-guy, you know? To top off his wonderful looks, our buddy here had a perfect white smile and was sweet like candy. The woman must have noticed my wide eyes looking at him because she let out a chuckle. “ That’s Mason,” she smiled. She leaned down and whispered in my ear, “ I had the same reaction.” We both chuckled at that.

Next to me I peered at the red digital clock that was mounted on a small table nearby; 2:08 am. Yikes, that’s early. “Okay, Heather, now I need you to take a deep breathe in and hold it. 1.. 2...3…” Pop! I screamed bloody murder. Arm raging in pain,  my now not-so-tired body shot up from its laying down position. I clawed at my shoulder, which now felt put together again. I felt like Humpty Dumpty. I concluded my arm was originally dislocated and was now back in its proper position.  That’s great! But boy, it hurt like a bitch. The next part was painless compared to my previous operation. Mason flashed me a pearly smile and yanked out the large glass shard in my leg like Hulk. Doctor Dream Husband looked very interested and handed me the bloody glass wrapped in rough cloth.

“You can examine that for a few minutes if you’d like.” I took the glass piece in extreme confusion.

“Uh.. thanks?” He winked at me and flashed those blinding teeth again. Paige would be in love right now. I had to admit, this was no ordinary piece of glass. It looked to be approximately seven inches long and four inches thick. I’m guessing it was from the windshield. In the corner was Caleb working on some medical things. He hadn’t said a single word this entire ride. I mean, we had been crammed in that tiny space for almost twenty minutes. It’s just a bit odd that he hadn’t talked. I was starting to think he was mute.

“Alright, Heather, we’re done here. I’m just gonna ask some more questions,” said Angie. There was no harm in that, so I was fine with it.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“Where are you from?”

“The City.”

“Ahhh. New York City. You know, you’re pretty far from there now. At least an hour or so.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay then. What are your parents’ names?”

“Shawn and Meredith.”

“Just a couple  more. Who was that girl back at the accident?”

“My sister, Paige Brooks.”

“Last question,” she said. My aching body was tired and ready to sleep. I could feel my eyelids fighting to stay open like they had weights attached. I looked outside and the hospital became clear in sight. Ambulances were pulling in the back and people rushed in and out like firefighters.  “Oh, I better hurry this up. Okay, Sweetie, can you tell me what happened tonight?”

Then my heart sank deeper than the ocean.

-Hannah Kovelman