Chapter 10

That morning, if you looked outside the window, you would see an average spring Sunday in the south. The O’Malleys, who lived next door to Abuela, were busy as usual. The O’Malley children were running around playing tag in the driveway in front of their picturesque white house.The eldest of the four, a girl, was talking on her phone emotively. She had one of those new flip phones that she probably had to beg for. The children were wearing pastel clothes that were only taken out for Sunday Mass, which is where they were headed.

It reminded Jessica of her own childhood; she herself would put on her favorite salmon-colored dress and khaki sandals. Her mom would put her hair in tight, blue ribbon braids. Her family of short brown haired Latinas would pack into the old white van and journey on to church. Jessica, being the youngest of the bunch, would never get shotgun. It was the same every week. Jessica missed her simple southern life.

Jessica distanced herself away from the window; she was in her Abuela’s parlor room, which was the term for a room that wasn’t very commonly used anymore. Then again, Abuela was far away from the current time, 1995.

When the family came over and blasted the Spice Girls, Abuela would angrily turn it off and turn on Louis Armstrong or Frank Sinatra. Her grandmother would waltz around the living room and pretend that her invisible partner was really Abuelo, who had long ago let go of the grass and flown away. Jessica’s mother would then get up and put her hands in Abuela’s; they would dance together for what seemed like hours, and when they were done, both Abuela and Mom would have happy tears in their eyes. The entire family sitting around them would applaud, and Abuela would bow and blow kisses to everyone, her smile reaching from ear to ear. Coincidentally, these little dance parties would happen on Sunday, right after Mass. It was one reason more that Jessica missed her simple southern life.

The Parlor was very vintage looking. There were floral designed couches that were pulled up against walls covered in striped paper. A few features in this room were striking to the naked eye, like the fireplace which was adorned with tiny souvenirs, or the huge grandfather clock creeping up in the corner of the room.  And the huge family photo that was proudly framed up over a table with a bouquet with fake roses and purple lilies.

Abuela sat on a rocking chair in in the middle of the room, and she remained stagnant, her feet on the wooden floor. She rocked forward and then backwards at a painfully slow speed; she gazed up to Jessica and asked, “So, when will you be leaving for California, Dear?”

Jessica nodded, then looked down. She wasn’t really sure how to answer her Grandmother with complete honesty. If someone were to ask her this same question a few weeks ago she would gladly answer instantly with “In about a month!” Then she would ramble on details of how exciting her life was going to be after the move.

Then scenes of the previous week played in her head. The sounds of terror and sirens. Newscasters coming over to her to ask her about the impact this event had on her life. They dubbed the entire thing “The Oklahoma Bombing.” This entire ordeal was the cause of her simple southern life slipping away from her.

Jessica lived a very simple southern life for her entire life. She was born into a loving family; her Padre, an Ecuadorian lawyer with growing arthritis that wasn’t so bad for him when she was growing up had gotten really bad for him as Jessica got into college. He was in a wheelchair now, but he still had a knack for debating on current issues. Mother was an Irish accountant; she had met her husband at an Elvis Presley concert in the 60’s.

She watched Abuela slowly trudge up the stairs to go to her room for her afternoon nap. Jessica looked for something to occupy herself with for a while; she found a new CD player sitting on a shelf next to the rocking chair. She lifted up the CD player and carefully sat on the rocking chair, knowing that the chair was an old piece of furniture. She hit the silver “play” button and hugged it like a family treasure. For her, it didn’t matter what song played, she just needed something for her to relax and reflect.

Music was one thing that was very prevalent in the family. First they were hippies who loved Janis Joplin and occasionally grooved to ABBA, then they became die-hard Michael Jackson fans who pranced around in power suits and loud colors. Recently, her parents had slowed down a bit, mainly due to old age and her father’s declining health. But sometimes they would ask Jessica what was trending and what the hottest fashions were.

She looked at the shelf where the CD player had once sat. West of where it once was, there was a small standing photo of herself wearing a black gown and cap, gratefully  holding a scroll in her right hand. The photo was a perfect representation of the happier times in her lifetime, and the happier times weren’t too long ago.

Jessica’s simple southern life continued on to college. She made her father proud and went to the state university, majoring in computer science, which was a generally new field. She learned about all the new technology, from hardware to software and all those doo-dads. Jessica graduated with honors, and she could see the joyful tears in her old man’s eyes on graduation day.

Soon, maybe too soon, a letter came in the family mailbox. A letter for Jessica, a job offer from Silicon Valley. Silicon Valley was located in good old California, where all the new computer stuff was happening. It was a dream come true for Jessica; all her life she thought about escaping her simple southern life in tiny Oklahoma and moving on to somewhere bigger, where she could see her name in big, golden LED lights. It was a job offer to work on a new project from Microsoft, something revolutionary; it would be called Windows 95. The final project was to include a brand new application called Internet Explorer.  Jessica wasn’t sure what it meant, but she was keen on finding it out once she reached California. Little did she know that this is when the happy times ended.

Then, Jessica experienced the events. Driving up to her Mom’s office, which just happened to be a government building, the sound of the bomb descriptively ringing through Jessica’s ears followed by her sudden instinct to get out of the 1993 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Everything that happened after that was a blur now to her, nothing but numbed feeling. All she remembered was carrying the little bleeding girl back to her parents. That would remain a core memory.

More blurred memory continued after that, rushing to the hospital to bad news. She remembered the waiting room. Seeing the President of The United States, Bill Clinton, on TV. He had a look on his face that Jessica had never seen before; there were deep creases on his eyes and he looked more like a common man than a president.“Will she be okay?” she asked the doctors frantically as they approached her; they had no real answer for her and would constantly rush back and forth from room to room. This was understandable; so many other people needed treatment. Jessica found that watching the news somewhat distracted her.

When seeing the nightly news with her Aunt Josephine, she always saw news of mass murders, bank robberies and all terrible things that could happen to modern society. But she never thought about how the people felt or whatever they were going through; the concept almost seemed foreign to her. Now, it was hard to think that she was one of those people; now she had to swarm through news reporters reporting for the taped nightly news whenever she drove to the grocery store. Oklahoma was once a state that most people couldn’t even recognize, and today it was probably the most recognizable state for the wrong reason.

People that she hadn’t talked to for years called her. Her old elementary school friend Stephanie called her.  Stephanie worked a high society job at the Twin Towers and bitterly joked, “The place where I work is a historic building too, thank the heavens they didn’t bomb it!” Jessica had immediately hung up, and she decided to never talk to her ever again.

She rocked back and forth, mimicking what she saw her Abuela do for years. There was a peaceful atmosphere created from both her rocking and the music that filled the room. Jessica had helped Abuela navigate her new PC before she let her go on to nap; she wondered if she had actually understood anything she taught her. Jessica was now just about ready to leave soon, but thoughts flooded her head which cracked the peace.

In her mind, Jessica saw herself in the middle of a road. The left side of the road pointed to California.  Jessica could get away and leave her southern life and no longer have to worry about reporters. She would make money and meet new people, have new experience and obtain an independence she had never had before; this excited her, but at the same time worried her.

The right side of the road pointed to where she currently was, Oklahoma. Her father no longer had his wife to take care of him, and his health was worsening. Her Abuela didn’t have any grandchildren in Oklahoma either, and all of her other grandchildren had themselves moved on from simple southern life; she would be lonely. And the people of Oklahoma, they would also need Jessica, but in a different way. This was a time that the people of Oklahoma had to forget their differences and come together as a community to rebuild and get back to normal life. They couldn’t mourn forever, and the reporters would eventually have to leave.

A very weird thought came into Jessica’s head, a thought that she would never have thunk, one that surprised her. Jessica wondered, Does California really need me right now?

Jessica laughed it off because she knew that she would have to take this job. She slowly and very carefully got up from the rocking chair, wiped off the dust and walked to the front door. Then she slowly opened and walked into the porch. She was about to shut the door, but something stopped her for a few minutes.

“Bye, Abuela!” she said.  She waited for her Grandmother to answer but concluded that she was probably still sleeping.

She then used all of her strength to close the door and walk to her new car, a 1995 Chevy Malibu.

-Suhani Iyer

Chapter 1

Life sucks. It just does. I can’t do anything about it. Then again, I get the easy jobs around the house. Take care of Alli, almost 24/7, which is somewhat amusing. Usually, Uncle Jay or Timmy (my older brother) get to take care of the fields, which is okay, but I just want to be a boy for once and be able to get down and dirty and have no one stare at me for it. When I’m cooped up all day inside the house my mind wanders. The house is tiny and covered with disarrayed dirt. All the walls are brown, and our pictures cease to exist anymore under all the muck.  I start to imagine life before the stock market crashed in 1929. I wonder what happened to Ma, how far she went, where she went, stuff like that. But the one question that floats through my head is… will she ever come back?

We had been with Uncle Jay now for about six months. We lived in Lagrange, Missouri, and at this point I didn’t even know if Ma was still in the country, let alone the state.  And Pa, well he died of Tuberculosis, so there wasn’t much to wonder about. 

“Timmy,” I said as we stared up at the sky. “Do you remember what life was like before the stock market crashed?” I glanced at his deep, brown eyes.

“Yes, I guess we took life for granted;  we had food and toys and clothes. Nowadays, I would kill to go to school.” 

“Good, I thought it was just me. I can’t remember the last time we played a game.”

“If I try real hard to remember, I can just barely make out our nice, full table and our nice, cozy beds.”

“Hey, we’re pretty lucky though, at least we aren’t living in a shanty, in Hooverville. “

            No one has fun anymore, I found myself thinking,  Not even Uncle Jay.

Uncle Jay used to be the life of the party. He was never one to sit in the corner and watch life go by. But now, of course, everything was dull and stupid, and no one cared about anything. Life seemed to pass us  by in black and white. Not a spritz of color anywhere. I tried to bring that spritz of color into our lives, but it never worked.

I started to think differently about myself, myself as a person since disaster struck our family. What I could have done differently, to have stopped this from happening.  I had begun to see the world through a new pair of eyes, and these eyes picked up on everything. The tiniest details. When your whole world changes, you start to take notice of things.

Alli could cheer me up no matter what. She would laugh and giggle without a care in the world. Alli was not even a year old yet. There was no way she could understand what was happening, which I thought was a good thing.

It was a Thursday morning, and one of the nicest days we had seen in awhile.  I was outside, playing with Alli and gazing at Timmy and Uncle Jay working in the fields.

It was getting harder and harder to grow crops as the soil was so dry. When the wind kicked up it would create huge dust storms that made it impossible to see or breathe. Still, I was tempted to leave Alli for just a few minutes while I watered a plant or mowed a section. But sadly I was snapped back into reality.

“Good morning!” A fella with a small, brown hat said to me. I jumped because I was in the middle of daydreaming. He had managed to make his way up the gravel road unnoticed. I looked around for signs of a car or horse but saw nothing.

“Oh, sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to scare ya.” He kind of chuckled at the thought of it.

“Oh...um it’s fine, I was just dreaming of… better days, I guess.” I felt very uncomfortable as I said the last few words.

“Aren’t we all? Hey, anyway, is your Uncle Jay around here anywhere?” He started to glance around the fields.

“Ya, he’s out there somewhere.” I laughed at that one too.

“Well, ah, when you see him give him this, would ya?” He handed me a sheet of paper.

“Sure thing, have a nice day sir.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Thanks, you too,” and just like that, he was gone. I know I shouldn’t have, but I did anyway. I flipped the paper over and read it aloud.

“No rent, no house. You have been not been paying rent lately, and we hear that you don’t take care of your sister’s family. You have exactly seven days to either move out or pay up.” I was confused at first but then read the very top of the paper.

“Eviction Notice!” My heart stopped beating. My lungs stopped breathing. I couldn’t believe it and wouldn’t believe it. What would I tell Uncle Jay? I never should've read the damn thing. I wonder how Uncle Jay would react. The house wasn’t much with its broken windows and saggy couches, but it was still home.

“Hey, Lilly, everything alright?” Uncle Jay hollered from amidst the fields.

“Yeah, everything’s  fine.” I tried to sound positive even though everything wasn’t “fine.”

All day I worried about how I was going to break the news to Uncle Jay. He probably wouldn’t be mad, would he? My mind played tricks on me, deciding on one thing and disagreeing on the next. I finally thought I would first tell Timmy privately and then have him deal with it. But would Timmy be mad at me? Maybe Alli could solve all my problems; it was worth a shot.

I sat down next to Alli, spying on her through the bars in her crib. Oh how I loved that crib. How it rocked just right and it was the perfect shade of blue. We only had one blanket that Grandma Nancy had sewn way back when, but it was pretty damn soft.  Alli seemed kind of fussy, so I tried to calm her down.

“Hey Al, wanna solve all my problems for me?” She stared at me blankly, as if I was an alien with three eyes and four noses.

“Will you seriously help me though, Alli? You’re good at making ideas appear in my head.” She ignored me and stared at the ceiling. I tried a different approach.

“Hey Alli, Alli where am I?” I covered my hands over my face to try and “hide.” She started to giggle, and I knew it was working.

“Peek-a-boo!” I shouted and fell on her stomach laughing. I did it again.

“Alli, where am I? You can’t see me.” She snorted and clapped her hands. I hid behind my hands again. Her laughing ceased, pretending she didn’t know where I had gone.

“Peek-a-boo!” I shouted.

“Wait, that’s it!” I also shouted.

“I’ll just pretend I haven’t seen it and leave it on the table for Uncle Jay to find. That way he wouldn’t be mad at me and I could see his real reaction. Timmy would also not know I had read it.

“Wow, Alls, you’re really good at that.” She laughed once more and laid down.

I was setting the table when I called for Timmy and Uncle Jay. The table was a little rusty, and one of the legs was broken, but we made do.

“Time for supper!” I screamed as loud as I could.

“Coming,” Timmy yelled.

“Same here,” Uncle Jay hollered. I quickly grabbed the eviction letter and placed it on the table. As soon as Uncle Jay saw it, I acted casual.

“Hey, what’s this doing here.” Uncle Jay picked it up questioningly.

“Someone came by and delivered it this afternoon.” I kept my eyes glued to a tree in the yard.

“That’s unusual.” Uncle Jay flipped it open and started to read.

“Stop!” Uncle Jay shouted suddenly. I was so scared I dropped my fork.

“Don’t eat anything else, this might be the last meal you ever eat.” Uncle Jay looked back and forth between Timmy and me.

“What are you talking about?” Timmy stood up and grabbed the letter.

“We’re being forced to move out.” And just like that my life went from bad to worse. From sucky to really sucky. From terrible to horrible. It was hard to imagine life before everything happened, but there really was “life.”

And this is how it all started.

-Riley Grimm

The world can be gorgeous. The calming waters of the sea inching up and burying your toes in the dazzling sands on a beach. The sunsets can stop time. The birds can whistle a tune that will be remembered forever. But, the world can also be a dark and dreadful place with fear, suffering, and loss.

I graduated from school seven years ago. I went to school for science and space technology and mastered with a bachelor's degree after four years. Never did I know that the least of my problems would be getting a paper in on time. The world was getting worse and worse to live in. The sparkling waters were turning dull and murky, and the atmosphere gained a dark grey tint. Yesterday, 314 earthquakes happened in the United States alone. 19 of them happened here in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

These earthquakes were terrible... the ground cracking, houses falling, and people dying. Death was more common than ever now. The Earth was paying for the greed and wealth. I’d been worried for a long time that the world wasn’t strong enough for all of this, so using my science and space skills, I’d been building a spaceship. I know, I know. I’ll be the first one to say I was completely paranoid. I was not building a huge, fancy schmancy spaceship with a disco ball and AC. I was building a functional piece of spacecraft that could act quickly in the event that the world ends. People have called me psychotic, crazy and dumb... that everything would be fine and I was wasting my time. My response had been the same to every single one of them. All the signs were there. Half of the waters were gone, and the other half were completely taking over small cities. The sky had been dark throughout the day, and electricity was gone for at least 22 hours of a 24 hour day.

“Karen, come inside and eat,” my husband's tired voice called to me. It was 4:32 on a Saturday, and the sky was pitch black.

“I’ll be there soon... I’m almost done.” The Earth shook slightly, but it didn’t bother me anymore. It should have, but it had become so common that it was almost pointless to worry. I set down my screwdriver and dusted off my hands on my ripped jeans. My porch door was open and inviting me to come towards the warm, orangy white oil lamp illuminating the inside of my house. I passed my dining room table and saw my family eating a spread of steak, scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice and coffee... what we like to call breakfast for dinner. Making my way to the bathroom didn’t take long. I flicked on the light and looked into the mirror. A tired, dirty, worried face glanced back at me.

The wrinkles I had gained since building the spacecraft were insane. My hair was in a messy bun with bunches of hair falling out and lying on the back of my freckled neck. The Earth shook, more intensely this time,  pushing me off balance as I washed my face. Something didn’t feel right. The air felt a bit hotter than it should on a February night. It didn’t snow anymore - it hadn’t in a few years. The last time it had snowed was the year I learned about Apollo 11. Apollo 11 was the thing that inspired me to go to school for space and science technology and made me want to be an astronaut, but that dream never really became a reality.

I joined my family at the dinner table as my water glass shook along with the rest of the house. The shake was much more intense than before and had the effect of spilling the bone chilling clear liquid all over my lap. I didn’t really mind; the building took a lot out of me. Over the course of an hour the air got warmer, the sky got darker, the earthquakes got intenser, and I got more and more alert. By 6:00, I knew something was wrong.

“Something’s wrong, guys!” I yelled to my family members. Jay, who was playing with Jamie, ran to my side, and I explained what I thought was going on.        

“So, you think the Earth is at its end... and we should go to the moon?” Jay asked, scared but excited.

“Exactly. Jamie, run over to the neighbors and tell them to come over with whatever they want to bring into space. I’ve talked to them before, and they said they would trust me completely if anything like this ever happened,” I said, alerting my attention to my child. “Jay, grab the bag. We have to get out of here.”

The Earth shook violently, and I started panicking. I ran to the backyard and tried to finish it as fast as I could. I screwed the last few nails up into the base of the ship, now standing ten feet tall and thirty two feet wide. The ship had everything six people needed to survive for at least a month... maybe more if we ate sparingly. I ran inside to make sure we had everything we needed for this journey when Jamie returned with the neighbors jogging behind. Jay met us at the entrance of the ship.

“What’s going on, Momma?!” I heard Jamie cry. There was fear in her voice. She had never evacuated before... well nobody had. Like I said, people thought I was insane for doing this - but it was a risk I was willing to take for my daughter.

“It will be okay!” I screamed, trying to comfort her and myself. Frantically, I yelled to the others. “Get inside and grab a breathing mask. We are going up!” I followed them into the echoey chamber, perfect for flying. There were chairs and beds attached to the walls. They were all different... just ones I had found on the street with “FREE” signs attached to them. There was a small cube in the center of the room filled with food and a small room off to the side with a toilet and sink. I put a lot of time and effort into this. I wanted to be prepared. I was about to take us into space. I channeled my inner Armstrong and climbed up to the front of the ship. I felt the Earth shake one more time.    

“Fasten your seatbelts!” I screamed. My head was pounding, and I couldn’t breathe. The Earth was shaking so much as I started the ship. I slammed my foot down and clicked a few buttons, and the ship hovered just above the surface. This was the first time I had ever done this. Jamie’s sobs were close behind. There was nothing I wanted to do more than go back and comfort her, but I had no time.

Out of the window, I saw the ground violently shake and my house fall flimsily to the ground. The trees, even the oldest and strongest, fell so easily, it was as if someone had blown them down. People who had escaped the deathly trees falling and the houses being tipped over like dominoes were on the street, wide eyed and terrified. My ship kept rising up... up... up... until we were out of the view of the Earth. Just as I thought we were out of range, all of the space below us turned orangey red. Bits of wood and metal floated up and joined us in the atmosphere. There was only one explanation. The world had ended.

I was shaking all over, terrified. I had decided to fly out to the moon. Now that I was in space, I could put my ship in gear and safely leave the front. I ran to Jamie, and she jumped into my arms. Our breathing masks clashed as we hugged. I held her until we fell asleep.

We had been in the ship for two days now, and it was exhausting. The lack of sleep had tired me, and we were all getting pretty sick of dried fruit. It was amazing what we were doing, but it was really taking a toll on all of us. Jamie didn’t have all of her toys and other forms of entertainment, so Jay and I had been playing with her. The neighbors brought a few books and some notebooks to keep us busy. It had been pretty mundane other than that.

Four days after takeoff, we touched down on the surface of the moon. I felt amazing. My biggest idol of all time did the same thing I was doing. All you saw was me, but behind me was the support of my family and many others. I looked out and saw the sign that the three men placed, reading, “Here, men from planet Earth first set foot upon the moon, July 1969. A.D. We came in peace for all mankind.” I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Jay, what is... what was the date?” I asked, turning slowly.

“Um, February 24th, 3969,” he responded curiously. I jumped up.

“JAY! It’s been 2000 years since Apollo 11 has landed in this exact spot!” I squealed. “We have the masks; let's go outside!”

The atmosphere was mostly air now, cold, dark and dirty. We could probably breathe fine anyway. I lifted the hatch up, and the crisp, cold air met my face. It felt soothing after being stuck in a metal tube for four days straight. The whole place was so mysterious; Armstrong once said, “Mystery creates wonder and wonder is the basis of man’s desire to understand.” I had these quotes memorized for years now, but they were starting to make sense to me. I thought about it more and more and realised that I had done it. I had saved my family and some close friends from the end of the world. People called me crazy and dumb, but in the end I was the successful one. It was all worth it, no matter how many nights of sleep I lost trying to build this thing.

I turned my head and saw a white flag, the original flag now bleached from the harsh UV rays.  I was elated, ecstatic and extremely surprised that we were successful. Looking straight ahead of me, I saw something. It wasn’t a natural thing because the moon isn’t bright pink. I jogged toward it, the moonrock digging into my cold feet. There stood a large wooden box, one with a bright pink flag on the top. I slid the top to the ground, and it made an obnoxious thud. Inside was another box with a note on the side. The paper was yellowed; the sides of the note were crumbling in my hand.  I pulled the box from the larger box, carefully plucked the note from the side of the box and started reading.

I see you have found the box that Buzz Aldrin, Michael Collins and I left for survivors of the world explosion. We knew it would happen eventually, and we are so glad that someone was prepared for this tragedy. We knew that you would probably be confused on what to do now, so we left you a few goodies to help you survive.

I kept reading as I pulled the different items out of the box.

A small box of seeds, a planter and a few jugs of water to keep your food supply hearty. Some blankets and some small hand held air conditioners to help with the massive changes in temperature up here. Last but not least, a few oxygen masks. By the time the explosion happens, the masks might be a bit worn out... but you probably won’t really need them anyway.  Good luck and…

The rest of the letter was worn so much that I couldn’t read it. I set the letter back on the box and took a breath. I just read a letter written to me from my biggest idols of all time. Jay came up behind me and read the letter as well. I sat down, stunned. We were foreign to the moon, but now we could survive. The only thing we needed to figure out now was how. It would be hard, but now there was hope.

-Morgan Dempsey

Chapter Two

I jolted up like a lightning bolt when the announcement came on.

“Five minutes, 五分钟,” the booming voice said. I had been dozing off on the long trip. I could hear sounds in the distance, distinguishing the crying and yelling at the island. The boat smelled like something had died. Maybe it was our spirits. I was sitting on a wooden bench, alone. The faded walls of the ship reminded me of the plates we used to eat out of, flooding memories into me. I recalled the taste of my mother’s cooking. But those were just wisps of memories. I was starting a new life now, hopefully. I could hear mere parts of the conversation.

“Do you think he will get cleared?”

“I hope so. It's been a long journey to get here. Now we must start a new life.”

“I just wish it would be last year again.”

I had a bad feeling in my stomach. It was a feeling I had only had one other time. It was when the leaders of our small village had said the once plentiful fish had been dying out, and we would need to survive off other foods. I was only seven, and, for the first time, I had been struck with reality.

The strong voice came back, saying, “One minute.” I was getting off soon, just like the other people on this cramped ship.

The strong scent of the salty sea tingled my nose when I walked down the creaky old steps. The sky was painted a soft grey, the water a deep rolling blue. I could barely hear the crashing of the waves through the booming noise consisting of sobbing and screams. Many saddened people drifted past me, slowly, carrying small woven baskets and overflowing bags.

“为什么将我们离开彼此永远,” a muffled voice close to me said. I couldn’t tell what they said exactly, since I spoke a different Chinese language, yet I figured they said a few words about leaving forever. Sadness flooded into me, knowing the desperation in the tone of voice. And I thought of my brother, hoping he would arrive soon. A slight drizzle started. It was like the mood of the Island, a dark sea of depression, the sorrow dripping out of the clouds. A weeping child rushed past me, tears dripping down like a light rain. I knew with the new act being enforced recently it would get worse. The large building ahead of me was where I needed to go. My future depended on what happened in there. I could start a new life in America. People in my village told me America was a cruel place, but I thought it was just the hatred between us.

Now, looking at the place in person, it gave me a feeling of anxiety. I stood outside, blankly staring at the oversized doors. I knew that I had to be strong, but the solemn sadness was towering over me. I thought to myself, Why does it have to be like this? The mere thought of entering the building was undesirable. I wanted to be invisible.

I knew though how I needed to enter, welcome my fate. Quickly, I stood up, glancing at the stretching dock that was like a smear of brown on a canvas. I thought of how the world was changing. I wished the government would have given us a chance, thought of how it would affect the world. But there is no way to change the past.

I looked over at the building. An immigrant I had talked to on the ship approached me slowly. I knew who she was; we had met at the fishing dock one a few times.

“It will be okay,” she asserted. Her name was Na, from my village. And then she was gone, telling her family something I couldn't hear. The rain was heavier, steadily hitting the ground like a beating drum. The waves of the sea were louder. It was like I was in a storm of emotion, and the weather was corresponding.

But I had to push on. The problem of fear would not solve itself. 

-Nic Castillo

The bright blue beautiful sky looking brighter than ever. Hanging over the the bright blue beautiful sea. The ship, 833 feet long, four smokestacks. Looking around at the people boarding the ship, I saw a man in nice clothing. I noticed the smile he had was just as enthusiastic as the one I wore. The sun was so bright it seemed like the entire universe was smiling excitedly.

“Are you the captain of this beauty?” the man said, pointing at the ship in amazement.

“Yes I am. Ted Johnson, and you are?” I was walking up onto the titan next to him. I still couldn’t believe they wanted me to be the captain. Then I looked around and noticed that many people looked like kids after their first Christmas.

“The name’s Jimmy,” he responded.

“Which class?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“First,” he answered.

“What do you do for a living? How'd you get the four thousand euros needed for the ticket?” The ship was being boarded by hundreds of people.

“I’m a businessman.” By the time the ship started to move along the water, there were about 4,000 tickets sold, and many were second and third class passengers. The first dinner was entertaining with a lot of laughter.

“How are you liking the trip so far?” I asked many families as I walked passed them on my way to the cockpit. Many of the people I asked said that they were liking the trip. I ended up walking past one of the three cigar rooms; it was hard to not cough. I’ve  never seen New York before. My family was waiting there to welcome me to The Empire State.

The fourth day in, almost at America. It was 11:50, April 12, 1914, and I heard crew members yell “Iceberg!” My hands slithered around the controls like a snake as I was pulling the levers to go full reverse while trying to turn the ship away from the iceberg. No thoughts, just instinct.

As we approached the iceberg, the snow white mound increased in size, and I felt myself working quickly and without thought.

Clark, one of the workers asked, “We’re not making it, are we?” He knew what I meant by the look I gave him. “Get the lifeboats ready for boarding!” I heard him yell.

The musicians had the same fate as me. The lack of lifeboats was a problem that was not addressed. “Women and children first,” I remember hearing while I was still in training.

BOOM came a loud noise along with the ship shaking. I looked up in the sky at the blood red glow of the flares. The only people who can live are either immune to cold or on lifeboats, I thought to myself, knowing that no one is immune to cold. CRACK, as the boat's front completely broke off, sinking at a rapid speed.

I was running to the end of the ship along with everyone that didn’t get onto the lifeboats.

“That was the last lifeboat!” The noise stayed in my head, along with the screaming from entire families still left on the Titan.

“Ahhhhhh!” People screamed as they jumped into the navy blue water that had already taken hundreds of lives. Soon after that it was my turn. The musicians blew and plucked at their instruments, playing until death, others scrambling to the end of the ship next to me.

“What happened? I thought the ship was unsinkable?” a woman asked between little spurts of crying.

“Me too,” I said. “Everyone did.” I was happy to talk;  it kept my mind off the imminent.

“I’m sorry the ship didn’t live up to its name,” I said as the tears on my face started running like a river. The nip of cold made it feel like a frozen lake more than a river, the rescue ships in the distance underneath the dark sky of the early morning, the icy sensation crawling up my legs, drawing me closer to death.

This is it, I thought because the rescue ships weren’t fast enough. Eventually, after a few minutes of freezing, everything started to become darker. Eventually the darkness consumed me.

-Tyler Bristol

My friendship with Kya was blossoming, and I was itching to tell my parents about it, but every time I would work up the courage to do so, I would picture their reactions to the time my sister told them about her black friend and decide against it.

“So how was your day at school Margaret?” my mother asked, peering at me over her spectacles.

“Fine,” I replied curtly, as usual.

“And how was your day, Jill?”

Jill grinned widely, showing off the huge gap in her mouth that was once occupied by her two front teeth.

“I made a new friend today,” she said excitedly. “She was sooo nice, and soooo funny too. She’s pretty, too, I love her dark skin.” My father began to choke on his drink, coughing and spluttering like crazy, while my mother’s eyes bulged out of her head. They were silent for the rest of dinner, and I didn’t dare speak since I could tell they were furious from the way they looked at each other.

“Margaret.” Jill’s little voice interrupted me from my thoughts.

I knelt down to her level. “Yeah?”

“Mommy said you have to get ready,” she said. I was barely listening, so I was puzzled.

“Ready for what?” I wondered.

Jill rolled her eyes at me, which made me chuckle. “The skating rink, silly!”

Suddenly, it dawned on me. It’d been on our agenda for weeks to go to the skating rink, and Jill was almost as excited as she was on Christmas, which was a great deal. Quickly, I made my way to my small bedroom, ignoring the clothes and other objects strewn all over the floor as always as I got ready. I dragged a brush through my auburn hair and pulled it up into a ponytail. Then I put on my shoes and tied them before heading back out. I walked through the kitchen as fast as I could to get to the living room to find Jill sitting on the hardwood floor, struggling to tie her shoes. She stuck her tongue out in concentration.

“Need help?” I asked, sitting next to her. She shook her head furiously, but after a few more seconds of watching her have difficulty, I reached forward and tied the laces for her.

“Margaret,” she whined. “I didn’t need help.”

I just chuckled. “You should be thanking me, y’know.” Just then, my father walked in and grabbed our jackets from the closet. I helped Jill button hers before putting on my own. Within another minute, my mother walked in as well, and my family piled into the automobile and drove the short distance to the rink. During the entire ride, Jill went on and on about how excited she was, and I just happily listened. 

Once we arrived, my father pulled into a parking space, and we clambered out of the car. I took Jill’s hand as we walked to the entrance but abruptly dropped it when I heard my name being called by someone behind me.

“Margaret! Hey, Margaret, wait up!”

I spun around to identify the voice, and I nearly let out a squeal of delight when I saw who it was. We both started running towards each other, meeting somewhere in the middle. Before I could think about my actions, I threw my arms around my best friend, which was quickly reciprocated.

“Hey Kya,” I breathed as we both stepped back from the tight hug.

“Hey! Does your family skate often?” she said. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Sometimes, how about yours?”

“Oh my goodness, yes! We’ve gone every weekend since…” She started telling me a story that I was barely listening to. Instead, my common sense finally caught up to the rest of me, and I realized my mistake.

I looked over to Kya’s family. Her father was carrying her little brother, and her mother was holding the hands of two girls, her sisters. Her parents looked afraid, and I slowly realized why. Nervously, I turned around to look at my parents. Their faces went from shock to confusion to sheer anger within a number of seconds. My father gave me an intense glare that I could see even from where I was standing several feet away.

“Margaret,” he yelled, and my heart sank. This was bad. This was really, really bad.

“M-margaret?” Kya inquired, obviously bewildered.

“Um… I have to go, sorry. I’ll see you at school on Monday, okay?” She just nodded, and both of us started heading back to our respective families. It seemed to take me an eternity to get to them, and the closer I got, the easier it was for me to see the fury written all over their faces.

I gulped as my father harshly took my arm and lead me to the back of the rink behind a dumpster so that we were in private. It was grimy back there, and intricate graffiti covered the brick wall here or there.

“How long have you known that girl?” My father questioned just as my mother and Jill walked up behind me.

Much to my surprise, my voice was calm. “We met at the beginning of the school year.”

“And you BEFRIENDED her?” my father shouted, making me wince. “You know how it works, Margaret. We don’t talk to them. It was one thing coming from your little sister, but from you? I thought you were better!” Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I refused to let them. 

This was the point where I’d apologize and say I’d stop talking to her, and they’d forgive me. Those words were about to come out of my mouth, but they had a vile taste. I was tired of pretending to agree with them.

My mind drifted to all of the topics I’d silently disagreed with my parents on. They’d complained about the fact that the blacks started to go to mine and Jill’s schools, but I loved it. It’s the reason I met my best friend. They’d scoffed at Rosa Parks, but I was proud of her. They’d laughed when the blacks boycotted the bus, saying nothing good would come of it, but I knew it would be worth it for them. Sure enough, only a few months ago, after the blacks spent well over a year boycotting, the law was changed. My parents had no idea I knew about all of this, or that I had such a strong opinion against theirs, but I was done pretending. I was done.

“She’s a human, too,” I all but whispered.

“What?” My mother said, and I turned so that I was facing both of them.

“She’s a human, too,” I repeated, this time much louder and much more confident. “She has feelings just like the rest of us.”

“Margaret-” my mother started, but I shook my head vigorously.

“No. You guys see them as monsters, but I see them as humans. They’re the same as us. They have thoughts and feelings, and families, and they go to the skating rink on Saturdays just like us. She’s my best friend, and that won’t change because of you.”

The tension in the air was so thick it could be sliced with a knife. I looked anxiously between my parents, and then down at Jill, who was sat on the ground, playing with her doll, completely oblivious. Neither my mother nor my father said a word; they just stood in stunned silence, mouths agape, eyes wide.

However, I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. It was right then that I made a vow; I wouldn’t silence myself anymore. I wouldn’t let Kya and her family and so many innocent others who were African American get mistreated anymore. I had a voice, and from there on out, I was going to use it for good.

-Gabriella Baratier

     

Chapter 3

Well… here I am… seems like just seconds ago I had, everything…That was gone. My only joy was wiped off the face of the planet, Lettuce… The stock market had just crashed only a couple of days before. I know the day as if it was yesterday. October 29, as if only saying the name sent shivers down my spine. It was only a couple of days ago, but it’s felt like an eternity… Waiting…

A few days ago I was loving life.  Heck, I could make it rain for hours. Such good times, but now I’m ruined; the crash happened so fast, almost like a tornado. Perfect one day, the next, well, destruction.

I had swarmed the banks along with others; we were like moths and the bank was light. Some people were beat up right in front of me because they got pushed, or they cut me. Big deal, either way we weren’t getting our lettuce.

“Ahhh..” I said agonizingly as I slumped out of my dirt bed. I could already smell the rotting stench of dead animals outside, which obscured my smelling. My eyes hadn't adjusted to the light yet, but even then there was nothing to adjust to accept dirt and trash. My eyes stung from the penetration of all this garbage. I guess you could say it was another day in paradise.

I strutted through an opening of my “door,” which was just a board pressed against some dirt and wood and trash. This was my so called home. Outside, feces littered the ground, making a distorted Picasso. But I wasn’t alone, which gave me the only sense of happiness I could muster. My friends were also involved with this tragedy. Sure, not all of them had it terrible, but at this time it was hard to find someone with a dollar. The Hooverville I lived in was okay; I mean I wouldn’t called a five-star hotel.

My Hooverville was made out of wood and dirt, just like all the rest in the community. Yep, I remember that sad look from that old man when he realized his son’s wooden treasure chest was gone. I got him while he wasn’t looking, took it right from under his nose. Like a mouse in a cheese shop. I wasn’t the first one there though; you could tell the first raid party had come ;the trash had been ransacked, and some walls were barren.

I lived a little while away from the old man’s house, about a couple of miles. It was a medium sized haul to get to my house in the Great Plains; but trust me, I had a good haul. More metal! I could finally renovate my roof! I have been tired of waking up to find my house consumed in sand. That had been a bad thing about living in the Dust Bowl, the dust storms.

My closest friend lived about a mile away, which made it difficult, but most time perseverance carried me there. We met up a lot and supported each other, and since we were together, I had to share my hauls. The walk was sometimes long and painful; it felt sometimes like walking on spikes. This time it felt worse.

Worse than spikes. The bottoms of my feet cried after every step, I don’t think I can make it. In my head the only thought was, Oh god, Oh god no!  I was on the verge of tearing up; every step felt like my last. I pressed on.

I wandered for what felt like an eternity, waiting ceaselessly, only to realize I was lost. I thought things couldn’t get any worse, but boy, was I wrong.

About seconds later, I saw what appeared to be a brown tornado, but that wasn’t right. I knew it, the moment I heard the eerie screams of the wind, a dust storm. I knew I was in the heart of the Dust Bowl, but not anything like this had ever happened. Usually it’s just enough wind to knock down my shack, but this was more. Much more.  This was as if a demon had come out of hell and was ransacking the place. Sure, there was nothing to reform, but the dust was ready to hunt, and I was the prey; and as soon as it appeared, the metal seemed to whip away in the wind as if knocked out of existence.

The devil was in front of me now; the wind sounded as if someone was snickering at me. Time seemed to be standing still; the only movement was the dust. But in seconds I was covered. The dust flushed over me, covering me like a blanket. I occluded my eyes and knew my time was over. The only sounds were the vigorous roars of the winds and my gentle sobs as I lay in a cocoon of my fear and sweat. But as I waited for death it stopped.

Like a switch it miraculously got switched off. My sobs were now of disbelief. I looked around and nothing stirred. Sadly the terror didn’t stop there. I looked down at my leg that was seeping with blood. I could make out a gash where a rock had been whipped up and hurled into my leg. I could see the stone as it was severely deep; the blood filled it like an overflowing canyon. I knew like this I could never make it, and I still couldn’t even go back. I got up and started limping but collapsed into my sad carcass and laid there.

I think I started hallucinating because after a while, I could have sworn I heard my name.

“Robert.”  It started faint, but it seemed like it was coming closer.

“Robert.” It seemed closer. I looked up and saw a faint disfigured shape.

“Robert!” I could hear it now, and it raced towards me. The simple voice gave me the perseverance to stand up. And as the cry grew closer I could miraculously walk (more like limp). I felt the grip of their arms as they gripped tightly around my frail shoulders. My bones were brittle, but I could stand. There weren’t any words I could muster, only feelings. The stone in my leg felt abortive, and I was filled with happiness, like a glass overflowing with joy. Nothing could ruin this. As the last grain of sand fell, I saw her pale blue eyes stare into me, and I gripped her golden blonde hair, my mind too abundant that I couldn’t think of anything, nor say.

The demon had failed, and now I was in heaven, with an angel. But as I continued to stare into her pale, blue, beautiful eyes, I heard the faint sound of sand rustling.

-Hayden Amazon