4/27/2024 Golden Hour FlowerBy: Cate Le Taken in the late-afternoon light, a bouquet glows in a beauty that is unmatched, yet what makes it even more beautiful is that it's temporary; I believe that flowers truly represent the impermanent nature of time and youth.
4/27/2024 Up in Flames and Burned to AshesBy: Grace Silva I believe that beauty comes from the deepest scars of the internal fires that once scorched through us.
We all struggle with our problems, but the problems that leave the biggest scars are the ones that give us our uniqueness. I remember the burning, fierce fire that came forth when I realized what the word “adopted” meant. I was seven, in the second grade. Mid-first quarter, over the weekend, Mom read me that book that I always wondered what was going on in it, for I was too young to understand. The end of the book dawned closer and closer. When the end finally came, Mom said, “Just like you.” I finally asked the question that burned me up inside everytime she read that to me: “What does ‘adopted’ mean?” Her answer changed the sweet little seven year old me. I went from outgoing to shy within twenty-four hours. My teachers noticed it first. I told my best friend, Angelica, about this new “secret” during P.E. While we were doing the warm-up run laps around the playground, she ran and yelled it, every word that I had told her to shut inside the deepest corner of secrets not to tell, to every one there. I remember hearing the thundering footsteps of Elliot racing towards me as I bolted away from the stinging words, my trust burning to ash. All I could do was cry. I had trusted someone who was supposed to be my best friend, but it had gone to the volcano and jumped in. Worst of all, she put together this gang-like group of bullies, handing them their next target like a concert ticket on a silver platter, and watched as they bullied me, doing nothing to help or to stop the tormenting. If you thought that not speaking to anyone except for my family, Elliot, and occasionally Mira and Zayne when they bugged me was bad, add on a group of bullies. I remember Tony and Desmond, the worst of the group. They added Axel, Nasir, Troy, Braxton, Enzo, Jason, and Angelica to the group. All I could do was sit as they insulted me and tormented me. They drilled the poisonous thoughts of “you will never be enough so stop trying,” “you are useless and a waste of space,” “ If you were to die, no one would attend your burial because everyone thinks you are lame and a freak,” “who would want an adopted freak,” and “You probably were your unfortunate parent’s last choice” into my head, until it consumed me. I knew I was helpless. If I stood up to them, they would hurt me, and I knew I couldn’t run fast enough to escape. I could never run fast enough to avoid them. Trust me, I spent all of elementary school trying. Over time, with Elliot’s help, I was able to trust again. Slowly at first, then gradually came more out of the glass barrier I had rebuilt stronger after it had fallen and shattered beyond repair. Elliot taught me how to stand up to my bullies, which I did, and I was good at it, though Tony and Desmond never stopped, and still haven’t. Dioin, Knox, the twins, James and Jack were the next people I trusted, though they had a four month trial period before I told them anything too deep. Elliot and I became inseparable after that, and even though we have started going down our separate paths now, I will never forget how he helped heal the scars from the internal fires that had burned me. I learned with Elliot’s help, that I was perfect just the way I was. I learned to ignore the eroding, poisonous thoughts that had been drilled into my head by the bullies. I learned that my beauty in this world was internal, and came from my experiences in life. Even though today Tony and Desmond added Kenneth to their bully group, I know I am stronger and no longer that helpless seven year old in second grade. I have learned to not let the mean words, insults and names get to me, for those who speak them take out their problems on others. I have learned about the beauty of being adopted, different, and have learned to embrace who I am. I have learned that I am not who they say I am, I am myself, and I accept that completely. I believe that beauty comes from the deepest scars of the internal fires that once scorched through us. I believe that those scars from the internal fires that once scorched through us make us stronger. 4/27/2024 Why I hoard Strangers in my Photos AppBy: Arian Talavera Chapter 1 of our story began when you asked if I had gum
Good thing we both like the taste of artificial grape. Chapter 2 we discovered we Buried ourselves in Enemies to Lovers and whodunnits, Congested our minds with fictional crushes we had nonfictional feelings for; Your smile: held jokes waiting to be told Chapter 3 You couldn't recognize your beauty, but I could You were a picturesque landscape with a floral aroma: lavender and vanilla You were an irresistible earthquake Our inside jokes get embedded in your fault lines. Chapter 4 Our overused “I love you”s were unorganized dialogue Thrown in add-ons at the end of a sentence To create a corny tone to our conversations. I realized in Chapter 5 Your words: became gum that had lost its flavor, But I kept chewing, hoping the connotation would become sweet again. We weren’t on the same page anymore. We weren’t even reading the same book. If time is money, I spent a quarter of my high school life with you, But that 1 year felt like 16 Now you’re just some stranger I see in the hallways. But I guess that’s what I wanted, When I see you in the hallway, I think about how our plotline has been put on hold-- Our author discontinued a beloved series All that work shoved in a cardboard box Neglected in an attic And forgot to pack when moving out. Our story: renamed as a lost time capsule, My best friend: renamed as a stranger. I hoard strangers in my photos app. They hold stories Like a time capsule-- Conversations are the key to unlocking and reminiscing memories with them Some you just want to avoid, Too embarrassing and awkward to experience again. Or some you wish you could open up, but they won't budge Because they were made from stupid mistakes-- Either losing the key or forgetting where they said they went. If I found you again in 15 years, With red hair like you said you wanted to do since you were 13 or, Reading the next John Green book in the library or, Buying grape-flavored gum at the grocery store, I’d be open to reliving our short story 4/27/2024 Why Is Cupid So StupidBy: Arian Talavera I know that Cupid is trying his best
He’s shooting arrows in every direction except for my heart He’s only an infant with weak hand-eye coordination All his arrows end up pierced in my back, Creating wounds that dumb crushes will never treat His artwork resembles a dart board at a bar Created by drunks who think they can impress someone they just met His spell injects amnesia into my bloodstream It dissolves memories of my friends then congests my mind with delusional fake scenarios of you Our fake dates, Our fake fights, My fake hope I thought I could have you I always need someone to snap me out of this When I do, I text my friends about you. How you ignored my wave on Friday but Complimented my outfit on Monday. I know they have my back Pluck out the mess Cupid had left, Wash my wounds with soft words and patch on affection Protect me from gullibility I’m still learning to appreciate them. But I’m impaled with another arrow. 4/27/2024 The Ora - Komodo DragonBy: Jonathan Qiu “Come not between the dragon and his wrath” -William Shakespeare'. In 1910, the Komodo Dragon was first discovered by the Europeans, being named after the island where it was first found. Today, it has many names, some call it the ora, and others call it biawak raksas, meaning “giant monitor”. Like every animal, the Komodo Dragon is full of tricks happening behind the scenes which this article shall explore today.
True to one of its names, the Biawak Raksas is the largest lizard on planet Earth, being able to grow up to 3 meters (10 ft) and weigh up to 70 kilograms (150 pounds). These giants among lizards can only be found exclusively on five islands in Indonesia– Komodo, Rinca, Gili Montang, Gili Dasami, and the island of Flores. The islands originated from volcanic activity, having a rough terrain covered in both savannah and forests. With its barren hills and exotic landscape, it resembles a prehistoric archipelago lost in time. However, don’t be fooled by the desolate appearance as underneath the dry soil and coarse sand lies the future rulers of their kingdoms. The mighty kings and queens of reptiles first start their journey in leathery eggs, buried beneath the soil, biding their time to dominate the island as their predecessors. When hatching, baby Komodo Dragons have an “egg tooth”, a singular front tooth, which they use to pierce through their shell. Over time, the tooth will disappear as the reptiles grow. Once the hatchlings surface, they retreat to the treetops where the adults cannot devour them. A baby dragonet’s diet consists of birds, eggs, insects, snakes, and practically anything else they can eat. As they grow older, they will become too heavy to reside in the trees and move down to level ground, where the next stage of their lives begins. Unlike other predators who hunt their prey through superior strength or speed, the ora tackles its prey more tactically. The komodo hunts by waiting for its prey to come to them, and as soon as its target is in range, they will ambush them, biting and injecting their venomous saliva into the body. The saliva contains an interesting venom, in which it completely tears apart blood cells, causing the poor victim to bleed constantly. Even if the animal manages to escape, even a fully grown buffalo will die within a week due to blood loss and infection. Once the corpse gives off its stench, that is when the Komodo’s forked tongue comes into action. The ora can use its tongue to taste the air, enabling it to detect which direction the carcass is located. A fully grown Komodo Dragon eats nearly any type of meat it can get its jaws on, from rodents to water buffalo. As long as there is enough, Komodo Dragons will share food as tugging the meat helps them eat it. However, when there isn’t enough, they will fight. Komodos clash against each other in a brutal wrestle with islanders saying these fearsome fights can last up to 15 minutes. With strong arms, sharp claws, scaly hides, powerful tails, and venomous saliva, the Komodo Dragon truly lives up to its name. It is no wonder these fearsome and yet regal creatures are one of the most famous animals in Indonesia. Unfortunately, the species is endangered, only being found on these five islands and nowhere else in the world. We must protect these precious creatures before we have no one left to save. 4/27/2024 Ghosts who Had SkinBy: Corrina Mazza The neighborhood at my dad’s house was packed with kids. I was the second youngest out of the whole cul de sac, not counting toddlers or babies. Most of them were fifth graders up until eighth graders. The majority of afternoons we would be playing a huge game of hide and seek at the small sports and dog park a few blocks down the road or Infection along the backways of the neighborhoods. We’d all come home sweating, completely out of breath, knees and arms slightly bloody, and grinning wide.
Some nights though, mostly the weeks leading up to Halloween, we would get together at the prime of twilight and take on a game of Ghost in the Graveyard. The nit-picky rules haven’t stuck in my mind after all these years, but it was another take on Sardines, where one person—the ghost—hid and once they were found, it turned into tag. The ghost had to chase down everyone until the person caught was the new ghost, and it repeated and repeated until our parents yelled to get back home, it was late. The first ghost was always the last shoe left in Blue-Shoe. When the counter’s finger landed someone’s grimy Converse, they would whoop and yell in glee and skip to the circle of other “alive” people. In the times where my shoe was alone, Naomi, who was like an older sister to me, always volunteered to take my place; she felt bad that I, one of the youngest, had to go first. Even though I loved Naomi, I always yelled at her that I could do it and that I didn’t need help. And every time I scolded her, she ended up having to be the second ghost with me after ten rounds of me catching nobody. We were ghosts together, yet when we sprinted past each other, both reaching out in hopes of grabbing someone’s hood, we were beaming. We were ghosts, but we were alive. When we—Naomi—caught somebody, sometimes it was already late enough for everyone to go home. But when it wasn’t, when it was the rare nights when somehow every single one of our parents got stuck watching a movie or the news, we got another hour or so to jump behind bushes, scale up trees, scramble into the bed of a truck, or to just keep running and hope the ghost just slips right past you. When we decided we were done, we’d all sit in a circle in the little grass area and just breathe. I would sit next to Naomi while she braided my hair or I braided her’s. We were the ghosts who turned out to be alive. We could run and breathe and braid. We could always smile while we did so. 4/27/2024 LanguageBy: Allison Hoang I think it's really cool
How much power a word holds How much you can learn from a conversation How much you can change a world, a person By tipping it over the edge A little saying Reflects a person’s character From an “I” instead of a “we” From a “mine” instead of an “ours” Small words reveal. Because those things people can’t control, not really They slip out They pinpoint one’s true character, beneath the persona They’ve created for the world The contents of the conversation, The easiness of one’s voice, Discloses the closeness of each person. How if the group only discusses the past, Past teachers, past school, past friends – Reveals they are only connected to each other by the past, By their old selves Having roots, but growing separate ways. How if two seem to only find the hate in the world, Describes their relationship to the easiest emotion that can be relayed Without having to get deep and sentimental And sad - As happiness can be the hardest feeling to find. How each outing, each time Gives you the choice to go deep Or continue to cruise on How one more word, one more question Can open a whole new can And it’s your choice, in that very moment To push you two over Or to anchor yourselves on land In the end, It’s about the effort you want to put in, Right? From the word to the conversation From unearthing the single person to opening the world. 4/7/2024 Partners in CrimeBy: Ella Cerami Silence surrounds me. Cuts through me. Suffocates me so that when my partner in crime-fighting Emmet speaks, I jump.
"He was spotted in a cherry red convertible on Eastbrook three minutes ago. Let's go." "Got it." I pull the seatbelt across my chest and fold my arms. The engine revs as Emmett accelerates. I glare at my reflection in the side mirror: caramel hair curled into ringlets, lips painted deep maroon, bejeweled shades covering gray eyes. A baby blue dress hugs my torso, cutting off at the knees. I rub the backs of my ankles from the pain of pristine white heels. "Looking good, Beatrice," remarks Emmett with a smile. He's enjoying this. "Only the best for a criminal," I reply, tugging at his disguising suit. Emmett veers right, and I watch back as white movie posters flash by. "Kenny Jacobs has been charged with three acts of theft and assault," he recaps. "It always happens at a fancy dinner with important officials, and he's normally seen in a dressed-up disguise." "His police sketches are incredibly hot," I joke. "Vivian says he looks like a young Paul Rudd." My smile falters at the mention of Emmett's fiancee. Vivian was tall where I was short, curvy where I was flat, and smoldering where I was childish. They had been engaged for two years with no prospect of setting a wedding date. Vivian was everything I wasn't, and it was clear Emmett would never see me as anything more than a friend. My phone vibrates in the crocodile skin purse on my lap. "Jacobs is on thirty-first," I read aloud. The tires skid as Emmett veers left, and I lean in my seat. Our shoulders brush, my bare skin against the cotton of his jacket. I quickly take my place, my senses still tingling from the interaction. "There!" I point ahead to the corner. I can see Jacobs from afar. His records say he's 5'11, but from here, I can guess he's almost 6'1. He has a small brown stubble surrounding his mouth, broad shoulders covered by a black hoodie, and sandy blonde hair in a crew cut. Incredibly handsome. Emmett pulls to the side, out of Jacobs' view, and parks the car. Getting out of the car into the street dimly lit by small string lights, I grab the gun from my purse and fold my arms across my chest. Emmett does the same. Jacobs stands by the stoplight, his eyes narrowed. Emmett grabs my elbow, pulling me in, and I try to ignore the firework sensation in my stomach. "I'm Tony Rogers, a dog food taster with an insatiable appetite for it. You're Natasha Banner, the snake milker who got in trouble for taking too much out of one." "I'm going to ignore your combination of Marvel characters and say no to that plan," I reply. Emmett takes an aluminum-wrapped item from his suit pocket. "Bad idea, Beatrice." "Your idea was a bad idea, and what is that?" "No clue." Emmett sinks his teeth into it, and red sauce pours down the side of his mouth. I roll my eyes and begin to walk towards Jacobs. I see his eyes dart toward us, and he quickly dials into his phone. Making an impulse decision, I link my arm through Emmetts (covering the tip of the gun with my other hand) and smile up at him. "Come on, baby," I say in a high-pitched tone. "You're going to be full before dinner. You wouldn't want to miss Risotto Night." Emmett looks befuddled and stutters, "I love Risotto night." Right now, I want more than ever. I pull him towards Jacobs, who is crossing his arms and looking at us uncomfortably. "Excuse me, sir," I say in the same voice. "Could you tell us where the closest Risotto place is? It's our three month anniversary. We first met at a risotto restaurant in Canada. After this, we're going to a party with the senator. I met him at a culinary competition about twenty years ago, and Tony here is meeting him for the first time." "Really?" he replies, sounding intrigued. "I've always been so interested to go to one of those. Have a nice time." Emmett and I raise our guns in sync, my finger lingering over the trigger. The tension bites the brisk dusk air. "NYPD, put your hands up," Emmett commands. Jacobs lunges forward, and I jump on top of him, slamming both of us to the ground. I feel Emmett attaching the handcuffs around Jacbos' wrists. I remove myself from him and place my palm between his shoulder blades. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you," I warn. As the second cuff clicks into place, I stand and cross my arms. "Let's get him into the car. I'm not sure if it's legal or not to take an arrested criminal to the station in a sedan, but given the circumstances, I think we deserve—" Emmett pulls me in and kisses me. One hand runs through my hair, the other cupping my back. It's firm and moist, and warm. And I start kissing him back. 4/7/2024 Café... CrazyBy: Ava Cerami Six feet tall. Slick black hair and warm, chestnut colored eyes. The sides of his mouth turned up and dimples etched upon both cheeks. Golden, round glasses falling down a perfectly straight nose. A long beige trench coat draped around him, covering up a navy woolen sweater. A cup of coffee nestled in his hand. He drank it black. At least I presume.
I had come to memorize the man's appearance. I mean, seeing a man every day for almost a year can do that to you. His name was Oliver E. Sterling. He was an up and coming author- probably writing poetry or something sophisticated like that- and he graduated from Harvard University. As a sophisticated man, of course he loves to watch old black and white films of all sorts. Though he's no snob, he's a dog person and finds favoring cats a mundane choice. He has two dogs of his own in fact: a rottweiler terrier and a poodle (though he doesn't tell his friends about the poodle part). He prefers the mountains to the beach and is always listening to interesting podcasts from really fascinating and accomplished people. He is always wearing his earbuds. None of this was true, of course. But I liked to think there was a possibility that some of it could be. I had never spoken a word to this man. I'd always loved to people watch. Ever since I can remember I would just sit there and be fascinated watching other people. I mean, when I was four years old my mother said I would sit on the patio like an eighty year old- yes, newspaper in hand and all!- just watching the neighbors pass by. And I would make up these incredibly in depth stories about them…heck, I still do!...to the point that I felt I knew the person. Maybe that's why I decided to become an author. Oh! More on me? My name is Anaya Lenore. Currently I am sitting in the booth of my favorite Café….Café Loca in España. I'm studying abroad. I'm wearing a cozy pair of gray sweats with my strawberry blonde hair in a messy bun atop my head and an old, chunky pair of headphones cover my ears blasting my own complication of old jazz and techno beats. My order today is an iced chai lattee with extra foam. I feel like coffee order says a lot about a person. Mr. Sterling probably has a small cup of black coffee. Or maybe a cappuccino, I feel like fancy people always order cappuccinos in movies. With extra foam and- "That's a nice drawing." I become mildly aware that someone is speaking over the melody of Louis Armstrong. I look up from my pen and paper and nearly knock over my laptop and latte as I see his face. I awkwardly tear off my headphones and throw them around my neck. "Um what?" I say. God, of course my voice sounds gravelly. The corner of his lip pulls up into a smirk and I swear there is a star in his left eye which is focused upon me and only me. "Your drawing," he indicates my pad of yellowish paper with a tilt of the head. "It's really good." (Only in my head, he said "sincerely magnificent"…something smarter) "Oh thanks," I say, closing my notebook with an embarrassed, closed mouth smile. Put the dots together; who do you think the drawing is of? "Well," he gives a charming smile. "Have a nice one." With a polite nod, he turns. A line in a story or poem enters my head: There he goes, walking away You missed your chance Gone without even a glance Should have made him stay! "Wait!" I squeak. He turns around-like they do in the movies-and I realize I don't know what I plan on saying. Somehow I needed to learn more.I had waited my whole life- okay, maybe a few months- to meet this man and I wasn't giving up now! I give a childish grin before asking: "Would you like to join me?" |