Dear Parent,
It is a great honor to introduce to you our short story competition for 2024-2025 at Irving STEAM Magnet. If you didn't know, our middle school is named after Washington Irving a famous American short story writer, essayist, biographer, historian, and diplomat of the early 19th century. He is best known for his short stories “Rip Van Winkle” and “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”. Irving also served as the U.S. ambassador to Spain from 1842 to 1846.
Irving, along with James Fenimore Cooper, was among the first American writers to earn acclaim in Europe, and encourage American authors such as Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Herman Melville, and Edgar Allen Poe. Irving was also admired by some European writers, including Lord Byron, Thomas Campbell, Charles Dickens, Francis Jeffrey, and Walter Scott.
Washington Irving has set a great example for our young writers at Irving Magnet. These aspiring short story writers have worked long and hard throughout the year to accomplish their works. Some of our faculty members assisted them and are very proud of their efforts.
We happily present to you here the winners of this year’s short story competition at Irving Magnet and hope you enjoy their works.
Kirk Roskam
Principal
Irving STEAM Magnet
Managing Editor: Mr. Rich
8th Grade Editor: Ms. Mcardle
7th Grader Editor: Ms. Barrera
6th Grade Editor: Mr. Brenneman
Faculty Participants:
Ms. Arambula
Ms. Barrera
Mr. Brenneman
Ms. Greer
Ms. Mcardle
Mr. Rich
Mr. Rivas
Mr. Wayne
Ms. Wright
Ms. Ziegler
Thank you for all you have done for Irving and all your students!
Irving Steam Magnet
Short Story Gazette
2024-2025
Table of Contents
8th Grade:
1st Place- “Where Winds Runs with Fur and Feather”
by Noah Haskell and Emerson Freeland
2nd Place- “Matter” by Zev Netburn Ducker
3rd Place- “The Lament of a Shooting Star” by Bernadetta Anaya
7th Grade:
1st Place- “The Plague Came to Casselo” by Gordan Deal
2nd Place- “The Chronicles of Dionxis” by Escher Olson
3rd Place- “Erase the Pain” by Ana Ramirez
6th Grade:
1st Place- “The Witch’s Gallow” by Gia Ferrazzani
2nd Place- “A Dream, A Letter” by Nale’a Calderon
3rd Place- “Scissors and Tea” by Emmeline Hwang
Honorable Mention:
8th grade- “Running From Bad Luck” by Nicki Soto
7th grade- “The Tale of Scarecrow Jack” by Felix Maxwell
6th grade- “The Untouchable” by Eleanor Saunders
8th Grade
Short Stories
Where Wind Runs with Fur and Feather
By Noah Haskell and Emerson Freeland
HUMAN:
The clock reads 2:58 AM, and my eyelids droop like twilight shadows heavy with the weight of a dream, and I smile at my friend A.J. as we whisper and giggle at YouTube videos. The tent is warm, and rain pours down outside. His face is scrunched up in a smile, and huge black circles are under his eyes.
“I’m gonna go to bed,” I force out of my mouth, and pull myself deep into my sleeping bag.
In the morning, I wake up to an extravagant art piece—ripped sections of bright cloth everywhere. I jump up, still in my pajamas. My stuff! It’s all gone! The beautiful artwork I saw before is shreds of food, a tent, and a tarp. Also, water has leaked into the tent. I pull my soaked shoes on and shake my sleeping bag out, an icy waterfall spraying all over me and the artwork. I hang my sleeping bag up and pull my phone out of my pocket—thankfully, not wet. I snap a photo and post it, tagging A.J. I have an impressive 154 thousand followers, something that’s hard to keep.
“What the…” a voice comes from behind me, drowsy—a decent reaction.
I turn around and find my dad leaning over me, hand on his head.
“I was waiting for you to wake up. Oh, and I guess a bear found your gum,” A.J. announces, phone in hand.
My new backpack, my warm jacket, my phone chargers. All of my clothes... My dad and A.J. start cleaning up, and I go to the bathroom. I can’t clean that stuff up—I need to play Fight Planet. That will cool my nerves in case the bear comes back. I hike up a hill to get reception and find a nice rock under a tree. A majestic eagle stands guard, watching, waiting. I put away my phone, instead electing to just–relax.
Footsteps. Behind me. It must be A.J., looking for me.
“I’ll be there in a sec!” There is a slight growl, and I look up for a second to see a magnificent grizzly behind me, far taller than the tree I sit under. I can’t move or scream for help—my feet feel cemented to the ground. It lunges at me, its weight able to break the cement holding me between life and death—
It’s over. The bear is gone. I stare at nylon green, dark in the moonlight. My hair touches the wall of the tent, which soaks it with dew. I push it back, making sure it looks right. Where was I? I must have just woken from a dream—a horrid dream. A.J. and my dad are sound asleep, and my clothes are all intact and tucked away. I need to use the restroom. I hastily pull my pants on and shove my phone into my pocket, with a thought of texting my friends.
As soon as I open the tent flap, a gust of wind flies in and starts dancing around, chilling my bones. I slip my boots on and leave them untied, not wanting to take my gloves off. I turn my phone on, the light blinding me as I stare into the screen. The only sound in the campground is the crunch of dirt as my boots hit the ground. I hold my phone up and wave it around. I need to text my friend!
My foot catches on my shoelace. THUD. I curse, finding my phone screen cracked. I clean off my hands on my jeans and look up. There is a wolf staring at me. I nearly jump out of my shoes. I reach for my phone to take a photo, but the camera is cracked too, making the wolf look more like a toddler’s drawing. I take a good look at it, my eyes still adjusting to the darkness. Its hair is ruffled with dirt and leaves, but still shows silver in the moonlight. Its yellow eyes glare at me, then it turns around and walks away.
Woah. I suddenly become aware of everything around me. I abandon my phone, all thoughts of texting friends long gone. Instead, I look at my breath. I exhale, and a cloud of ice forms. Huge, towering Sequoias surround me, and small pine trees sway and whisper in the wind. An eagle—the same one as my dream—watches me. Judges me. Its eyes, ancient and knowing, pierce through the veil of thought I wear like armor. The wind hushes, as if waiting for my next move—no longer a breeze, but a breath held between worlds.
Above me, the night sky looks like a black quilt cast across the sky. The stars shine through like beautiful diamonds, unique and powerful. Right there and then, a missing piece of me fits right in place, and everything feels complete.
WOLF:
I run through the forest, as quick as a raindrop falling from the heavens. The luscious wet leaves rush past in a blur as I nimbly advance. I close in on my prey fluently. The small rabbit has no hope, it doesn’t even realize death is upon it. The whisper of Thanatos calls my name.
Birds sing around me. An eagle watches my victory in stoic silence. I stand proud.
My prey is dead and bleeding. It has passed on to the second life in the Elysium Fields. It has satiated me. We complete each other. I pay my respects and decide to move on. But as I prepare to embark, something entices me. Out of the corner of my eye I see the shimmering, luminous orb that all of my lupine brethren worship. The symbol of Artemis. The shining light when all is dark. The moon.
I continue my trek into the vast sea of trees. Quickly, I bound through the forest, glacial wind whipping through my hair. I am truly alive. This is the meaning in the chaos. This is the true life. And then I see him. A small human, fumbling with his boots. I stop and stare. I watch as he turns and sees me, as he gasps in shock, as he nearly jumps out of his skin.
I could end him. It would be quite simple, a quick bite on the neck. A flick, a snap. He is so small and fragile, he’d be dead in an instant. But, for some reason, I don’t. I just watch as he pulls a small black square from his pocket and points it at me. He stares at it, then seems to change his mind, and puts it back. We lock eyes. The beautiful birds cutting through the sky, the leaves blowing in the wind like chimes. Nature, humming a song. Like sweet honey, the world’s melody flows into my ears. I saw my eagle friend once again. He has the same tranquil expression that I imagine myself wearing.
I sit there for a moment, not moving or thinking. Something about this moment just feels…complete.
EAGLE:
I shoot through the sky so fast the world can’t keep up. The cold, winter wind rushes past my face as I bolt through the air. Like an arrow whistling, I rush through the world. I am free. My brothers surround me as we create a beautiful formation and fly through the sky. We stop after a few hours of vigorous flying. Someone cries out… they’ve lost their child. Screaming, hysteria, chaos follow. Many others realize their own children are missing as well. Madness. A wolf? An eagle? Someone has taken our young. We assemble a rescue party. I join. We leave under the cover of the starry, cloudless night.
We fly for five hours straight. No one even bothers to speak. Pure adrenaline, the thought of our dead young, and fear of coming back with nothing. These are the things that keep us flying. Eventually, we decide to stop and rest for the night. We land, someone promises to keep watch… but ultimately we all collapse in a heap. Exhausted, I fall asleep in seconds.
Morning comes, and we launch once again. We continue searching to no avail. And again, the next day, we search on. And the rest of the week. Nothing is found, and so, our party leader makes the call. We are to return home empty-handed.
Seeing all of the empty faces of the once-hopeful mothers and fathers is enough to help me cry myself to sleep.
We collectively decide to return home after a few days of grief and mourning. And so, off we go again.
It takes another month to get back North.
Finally we arrive. Finally, we are back home.
The air is brisk, the night is young. And I decide to hunt. My empty stomach can’t be held at bay much longer. I need sustenance.
I dive down to the stream, searching for fish, when something catches my eye. A wolf is also hunting. He looks at me, and I look back. We recognize each other as equals. As predators in solidarity. He howls, screaming towards the bright, full moon. I fly on.
A human. In some kind of bright green shelter. He tosses and turns in his sleep, I watch through the small plastic window. He finally awakes, disoriented, and looks around. Then he leaves his shelter.
He walks outside, and I notice the wolf has entered the clearing. It would be an easy task for the wolf to kill him. But I know he won’t.
They seem to be at a standstill. I fly down, closer, to get a better look. I perch and watch as they look at each other, both bewildered, both terrified. All of a sudden, something clicks into place. The wind, normally coarse and unforgiving, sounds beautiful. The leaves, their rustling usually annoying and bothersome, sound like a sweet symphony. The cacophony of chaos aligns, becomes something different. Something new. And everything feels… right.
Matter
By Zev Netburn Ducker
Often when people hear about twins, they think of identical (monozygotic) twins. These are formed when one fertilized egg splits in two, resulting in twins with the exact same genetic information. There are also fraternal (dizygotic) twins. This means that two separate eggs were fertilized by two separate sperm, resulting in twins that have different genetic information. This was the case of Elijah and Jason.
Elijah was tall, and he wore jackets. He had a buzz cut that had grown out. He liked jeans. He had brown eyes. He just wanted to be in his own world most of the time.
Jason was tall-ish and wore sweatshirts. He had a short-ish shaggy haircut. He liked basketball shorts. His eyes were green. He wanted to fit in.
I’m going to tell you about Zev, but forget about him until he appears later in the story. He was short-ish. He had long hair, and his eyes were hazel. He liked jackets and navy-blue khakis.
* * * * * * * * *
Currently, Jason and Elijah were in a restroom. It was fairly big, and the floor, as well as the bottom half of the walls were covered in this light brownish tile that screamed modern tastelessness. The top half as well as the ceiling was smothered in an off-white paint. The whole room gave the illusion of pleasantness while not being pleasant in the slightest.
Jason was sitting on the toilet – not because he had to go to the bathroom, which is the main reason most people sit on a toilet – but because he needed somewhere to sit and cry. Behind him was a sign that read, “Please do not flush feminine products, baby wipes, trash, paper towels, or diapers in the toilet.”
Elijah was leaning against the bar that was next to the toilet. Elijah sighed, and looked at his brother, who was red in the face. “I love you,” Elijah said.
- Jason gave him a look. Elijah saw it. Jason sighed. “Do you think Mom and Dad are going to be OK?”
“I mean like… probably.”
Jason let out a soft chuckle. Yeah he thought. “Yeah,” he said. “I just wish they weren’t getting divorced.”
They sat in each other’s silence.
* * * * * * * * *
In that moment, it felt like nothing mattered. It felt nice.
* * * * * * * * *
After a while they got up. Jason used paper towels to dry his eyes. Elijah went to open the door, and it didn’t open. He tried again. He called over Jason. Jason tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t open. Jason got nervous.
“I left my phone at home,” said Jason to Elijah. Elijah nodded in agreement.
“This could totally be a TV episode,” Elijah said, thinking out loud, “Like we’re stuck in a bathroom, and we have to get out, and we learn something about each other from this experience. This would be like the inciting incident.”
Jason rolled his eyes to himself – obviously you reading this means it wasn’t to himself, but that was his intent – and called out, “Yeah, but this isn’t a story, and we’re stuck in a restroom.”
“I don’t know. This isn’t so bad, I wouldn’t mind sleeping here for a little bit.”
Jason started checking the walls to see if enough force could cause them to topple. “Well I think by that time Mom and Dad would have come out of Family Therapy, and then they’d realize we were gone and call the fire department on us.”
“Do you think it would be a bottle episode, where we just talk to people outside of the restroom, or if Mom and Dad get involved it would just be a regular episode.”
“Huh?” Jason said, starting to get genuinely nervous.
“You know… if this was an episode of a TV show.”
Jason looked over at his brother. “Are you going to help or…”
Elijah continued to look at the sink. “Nah, I’m sure the resolution will come.”
“You know this is not a story, right”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe.”
Elijah let out a sound that started out as a “Well” but the end dragged on so long it ended up being an abstract noise. “You know, this is a good angle. At first I thought it was going to be like we’re working and bonding together, but it seems like we’re actually like having interpersonal conflict. I actually like that.”
Jason couldn’t take it anymore. “Look, I get that you're dissociating or whatever, like trying to ignore what's happening here. But I actually need your help because I’m really nervous right now, and you’re not helping.”
Elijah simply said, “Continue.”
Jason gave him a quizzical stare. Elijah continued, “We’re getting to the climax, and then there will be a resolution.”
Jason took a moment. “Stop saying that we’re part of a story! This is real life, there are real stakes and I don’t want this to be happening. It’s not going to get tied up in a neat little bow. Things are going to be complicated. Things are complicated.”
* * * * * * * * *
There was a knock at the door. Zev was there.
* * * * * * * * *
Let me expand on who Zev was. You may notice that the name is written at the top of this page, underneath the title. It is the very same Zev. I am Zev. The author of the story you’re reading.
* * * * * * * * *
I said, from outside of the door, “I don’t know why I knocked, you can’t exactly let me in. I guess it was really more of a formality. Well, I’ll let myself in.”
I opened the door, because I decided that in the story I could open the door. They looked at me quizzically. Elijah said “I feel like I know you,” Jason agreed.
I couldn’t really just add all of the information about this situation into their brain, so I had to talk to them. “I’ll be honest, you are in a story. I am the author.” I paused. “I may look familiar, because every character will probably have some imprint of me on their mind, I guess. I kind of want to leave right now because I realize I’m doing a deus ex machina and, I guess that kind of makes me a God? Anyways, uh… goodbye. The door is unstuck now.”
I walked out. I felt kind of bad, but the story did need a resolution if I was going to get a good grade.
* * * * * * * * *
The twins sat in the bathroom for a while. “I have a question to ask you,” said Jason, bleakly, “When you only thought this was a story, did it mean nothing mattered?”
Elijah replied, “Movies, and TV shows, and books, they all matter to me. I know we’re in a story or whatever, and this could just be a character trait, but I do love you. And I think love matters.”
“All stories should have a happy ending, so I guess there’s no use in being sad.”
“Well… most Shakespearean tragedies end pretty sad.”
“Yeah, but I was trying to make a point.” Jason waited a bit, “I love you too.”
* * * * * * * * *
In that moment, nothing mattered. It felt nice.
* * * * * * * * *
The Lament of a Shooting Star
By Bernadetta Anaya
I remember the exact date it happened. May 8th of 2003. I was a good Cello player, they said, one of the best in my time. No, I remember the exact time, 11:32 PM when a car hit me, and my right arm completely shattered. The only way I'd live a pain free life and I knew they were right but it hurt so much, the one thing I've done for my entire life, gone in a blink of an eye. I remember while in the hospital, my mother was with me, I don't know why she bothered, wasn't I useless without a purpose? Today was the day I was going home, I haven’t been home in a long time. Adler was probably worried about me, my mother was driving me home giving me a mouthful of how I should take care of myself, she's always been demanding like that.
We finally pulled up to my house, I swear another car was going to hit us and take my left arm with it. “Okay sweetheart, I trust you'll take care of yourself well.” “Yeah, I will” I was clearly lying but I couldn't take another mouthful from her, it seemed she only cared when I’m hurt. As I got out of the car, I lost my sense of balance for a second, ‘having one arm sucks,’ I thought as I walked into my sad lonely house, it was dark but I didn’t mind. I heard the mail truck pull over and sit up, I ran outside, with a wonky jog I'll admit, and stood by my mailbox. I saw Adler walk out of his car in his cute bucket hat casting a light shadow over his face, his square glasses framing his face almost perfectly, we made eye contact and my heart skipped a beat, he seemed to smile at me but I saw his eyes linger to my missing arm and immediately turn pale before he looked at me with major concern. He rushes immediately to my side and looks at me, “can I PLEASE get an explanation Jules?”
“Ahh well, it's a long story, you have time after your shift or do you have to go to your engineering clas-”
“I won't go today, it's fine, I’ll come here immediately after work I swear!”
“I- You know what, alright then, I'll see you, I guess. “I see him walk off and deliver some mail before getting in his van and driving away, something about driving irked me. I wonder why.
Later that day, Adler had come still in his mailman uniform, despite Adler being one of the cuter males, did he have fashion sense… The socks and sandals did not help his case. He was pacing back and forth in the living room, he would look at me in concern then continue pacing, “are you going to say anything?” I mutter sarcastically under my breath, he turns to look at me before sighing, “I don’t really know what to say.” He rummaged through his backpack as if looking for something, “well apparently I have no more blueprint paper, I’m heading down to the construction store, I'm buying you food on the way back.” Before I could even protest or argue he was gone, well at least I got some time to myself. Life was weird without a right arm, I had to relearn how to do everything with my left, the doctors stated I could develop POTS syndrome, my mental health is at its lowest, and I lost everything I’ve worked for since the age of five. Once I thought I was alone to lay and sulk at my bed. There was a knock at the door, there's no way that was Adler, he just left. I slowly walked towards the door expecting paparazzi or something, but no, it was just my mother, with a dog, a border collie to be exact.
“Mom, what is this?” I asked crossing my arms, I’ve never been so fond of dogs, they were so energetic and high maintenance. “Well, what does it look like honey! I got you a service dog!” I practically laughed in her face, I don't need a service dog, I look back at her, she's being serious. “This is Forte, I named him after your little musical terms! He's trained in defense, emotional support, and in medical support, since the doctors said you could develop POTS!” her optimism was sickening. “I don't need a service dog,” I said blankly, “now I have to go out of my way to buy thi-” “Oh honey! I have all the dog things in my car, you don't have to worry about such things. “Later that day I was being snuggled to death by a dog, it was…okay I was just waiting for Adler, I just wanted to be near him, I don’t care what he's planning.
When my mother had left, I remained sulking on my bed. I was the best cello player, I was on top of the world it felt, I had people wanting my autographs, interviews left and right, tight schedule, but now my schedule was just filled with doctor and therapy appointments. I always complained and groaned at my tight schedule but now, I miss it more than anything. I never liked crying, I always hated the feeling of the tears down my face, that annoying sniffle and the tightness in my chest but now I felt vulnerable there just falling freely. Gross. I felt that annoying dog jump on my bed and cuddle next to me…it felt, okay, I guess. After a while I felt my eyelids get droopy and I fell asleep next to a giant furball, I heard the front door open, but I was too tired to react or get up, I just groan and hold the huge dog down as it tries getting up to attack the person at the door, I really hope it's Adler.
7th Grade
Short Stories
The Plague Came to Cass
By Gordon Deal
Casselo. The cold unforgiving home of the Italian Black Plague. This town had fallen into disarray when the Bubonic plague had wiped out the entire political and trade industry. A horrible tragedy. The profession of being a doctor was looked upon as a badge of shame. Casselo was a small, unfriendly Italian village. An unwelcoming place for outsiders. Or ‘Citymen’ as the folk here called them.
The grime of the stout farmhouse forced the Doctor into a gag. His canvas and leather coat shining in the moonlight. An equine stable rested behind the house as he walked by. A sign hung swaying in the breeze. His mask bothered him greatly. A beak shaped mask covered his red face. He was called a "Medico della Peste." Though some people simply called him ‘Devil.’ Thin eye holes shone only but a sliver of light shone through. Curtains ruffled in the window, the door creaking open into a lamp lit room. A cold chill ran through Medico’s spine. He had to do it again, the procedure again. He hated it, the screams of the patients, the claustrophobic outfit administered by his academy.
“Come in,” a woman muttered. His breathing was loud in his ear. But he was Casselo's only doctor and thus it was his duty. His booming steps echoed through the little house. The putrid scent of burning cabbage and vomit permeated his lungs. A filthy bed frame lay on the cracked wooden floorboards.
“Has he come, Claudia?” a man's voice coughed out. There was a feeble man sprawled on the blankets. Bright red spots the size of mice covered his thin body. Next to the bed, a baby carriage swayed back and forth in the winter breeze. He put his large bag on the kitchen table. Pulling out a fire poker, a pair of scissors and his concoction that he commissioned from his professor. A mix of nasturtium flowers, crushed beetles, and bat feces. Necessary.
He gazed into the fire. A burning mess. So unorganized. As if a horde of yelling patients were clawing at him to hurry up. He stuck the poker into it for later. His steps rattled the man on the bed. The man knew what was coming, the legend was painful. The red hot poker, the cutting and blood letting. Medico grabbed the scissors from the table and clamped them around one of the blemishes, snapping it off. A scream emanated from the house. A piercing shriek woke him from his half slumber. His hands shook gazing down to his feet. Blood running down the man's shoulder. Medico grabbed the poker and seared the wound shut. The bleeding stopped and the wife who had previously been hobbled in the corner of the hut got up to clean the mess.
His eyes were bloodshot. Medico peered into the closed wound and saw streaks of darkened skin lining the blemish. This was the Bubonic plague. The most deadly he had encountered. The “Black Death” people called it.
A knock at the door pulled him away from his patient. The crisp knocking on the rotten oak door chilled him to his bones.
“Taxes” a man's voice announced.
“oh…” Claudia muttered to herself, cursing her luck. She walked to the door and swung it open to a giant. A man seven feet tall. A knife at his belt gleamed in the moonlight.
“You’re overdue.” He said. Who was he to disturb the treatment?
Claudia opened a small cupboard next to the bed and pulled out 3 silver coins. They were rusty and covered in scratches.
“Thank you for your patronage.” the man said with a smile, backing out of the door frame.
“Are you done?” said Medico with a smirk.
“Of course, not that it matters to you.” Claudia snapped.
“I will take my leave now. I will be back tomorrow to check on the patient.” Medico took his large leather bag and walked back to his cottage in the woods.
“Hello.” said the woman the next day clutching the man's hand yet again. The same commenced. The doctor cauterized the many wounds and welts on the man's body. He took notes on the man's condition and mental state.
A second knock came from the door. Again did the large man stand in the doorway. With a smile on his broken face. Medico simply ignored him. Taking pliers from his bag and feeding the sick man his brew into the cracked lips of the dying man.
“You’re short seven florin, madam.” The towering figure stated holding out a cloth bag.
Claudia pulled a small enameled box from a shelf next to the carriage. A key rested beside it, dormant, never used. She carefully opened the box and shook seven silver coins into her hand. These were in perfect condition. The gleaming coins reflected her sorrowful expression.
“This is all we have, to pay for Medico that is. Our inheritance, from my mother.” she said to the man. Glaring at him.
“And?” he smirked
He grabbed the florins and shut the door. Rattling the coastside house. The sound of the waves were masked by Medico's heavy breathing through the beaked mask filled with herbs and dung. Medico had released up the bubonic welts. He took a glass cup, heating it up in the fire and placed it upon the wounds. The cup would painfully cauterize it.
“My treatment is nearly complete?” The sickly man winced.
“Yes.” announced the doctor. The doctor grabbed his needle and proceeded to insert it into his arm.
“Will he be okay?” Claudia asked with hope.
“No way of knowing yet, but I would prepare for the worst.” Said Medico, who took his large leather bag and walked back to his cottage in the woods.
The next morning, Medico prepared the final stage of treatment. “GAH!” The scream echoed through the house. Blood began streaming from the open cut. Racing into a copper flask. Bloodletting was a time honored tradition in the medical community. It would release toxins into a controlled space. His needle pierced the skin of the patient yet again. And so a crimson river of gore cascaded down his weak, forsaken body. His eyes glazed in pain.The doctor did not utter a word, only continued to let the blood out of the wounds. Another tap at the door jolted Claudia out of her chair beside the bed.
“I already paid, Theodor!” Claudia yelled, swinging the door open. Her face went pale. A sickening gag rose from her throat. She stared through the doorway with such terror as nothing the doctor had ever seen before. The baby in the carriage began crying. As if all sound outside of this house was gone. All that was left was the doctor’s breathing and crying baby. Claudia dared not utter a single word in such fear as looking upon death himself. The humble room, cold and icy despite the raging fire in the center.
“YOU HAD THREE DAYS, MILADY,” The cold voice rasped. The doctor's breath seemed to evaporate. Despite the fact that the doctor had faced death numerous times. This time he could feel it in his bones. Someone was here to collect a life. The life of the dying man on the chipped bed. The doctor gazed into the abyss that was standing before him, a seven foot tall figure stood in the doorway carrying nothing but a scythe. Cloaked in a black robe he looked almost indescribable. He invited himself inside.
“I'M SORRY. TRULY.”
“I see…” stammered Claudia. Still gazing at the tall figure of the cloaked man. Or was it a man? Voices stirred in his head. The Figure did not talk but still spoke. The infected patient suddenly woke up as if healed from his ailment. The reaper’s shape looked
oddly familiar to him. Yet he could not place it.
The dying man limped over to the figure's side with no light in his eyes. No life left in him.
“Hello old friend,” Medico intoned.
“HELLO TO YOU AS WELL.” said the figure
“I hoped I would not see you this time, but I appreciate your company all the same.”
“LIFE WILL TAKE ITS COURSE. AS IT ALWAYS DOES.”
“Yes. It will.”
The reaper took to shadow. His black cloak disappearing into the dusk. A show that Medico had seen too many times before.
Medico della Peste put his scissors, cup, red hot poker and pliers into his large leather bag and walked to his cottage in the woods, ready to do it all again tomorrow.
The sun set upon Casselo that night. As it will, forever more.
The Chronicles of Dionxis
By Escher Olson
Deep in the forests of the continent of Marxulia, there was an old town called the Holy Mark. It was governed by the Ixisians, people who worshipped the creator Ixis, and the leader was named Jameson Henry Kinger. He was a stringent, cold man, but his son, eight-year-old Dionxis (pronounced Die-Yon-Zees) Tobison Kinger, was a cheerful boy with a love for the unknown. One day, Dionxis was gathering blueberries in the forest glen, when he heard odd chants coming from behind.
Dionxis was stunned at first: he had never heard something so unusual, but at the same time, so... beautiful. His curiosity got the better of him, and he slowly crept into the meadow, where he saw three girls who were slightly older than him. The three girls were sitting around a golden pot, which had large pink, black, and blue bubbles emerging from it. One of the girls, the red-headed one, tossed an odd plant into the pot, causing it to explode in many vibrant colors...colors that Dionxis had, oddly enough, never seen before. He was awestruck.
The tallest and oldest girl, with hair black as ravens, noticed Dionxis staring at them, and, to his surprise, she beckoned him to join. “Sit with us. We mean no harm”. Slowly and carefully, Dionxis walked over and sat by the cauldron. “Who are you, child?”, one of the girls asked him. Dionxis hesitated, and then spoke. “My name is Dionxis Tobison Kinger, son of Jameson Henry Kinger. May I ask what you are doing?”, he inquired. “We have a plan to put things in perspective”, the tallest said gently. Dionxis knew that his father wouldn't want him to be around this strange trio, but he felt, strangely enough, safe around them. Why he felt this way, he didn’t quite understand, but he felt it nonetheless.
Suddenly, their serenity was abruptly interrupted. “WITCHES”, Dionxis heard his father yell. And there his father was, menacingly leading a group of townsfolk with him. “My son! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON?”, Father furiously yelled at the girls. The enraged townsfolk surrounded the “witches” and together, they tipped their cauldron over, spilling its bubbly contents all over the grass. “Father, why have you done that? They didn’t do anything to you!”, Dionxis yelled angrily. “My darling son, they have corrupted you like they corrupted our sacred village!”, Father yelled, pulling Dionxis away from the “sorceresses”.
The girls, in the blink of an eye, snapped their fingers, and suddenly, they each magically transformed into animals. The youngest, a blonde, transformed into an owl. The second one, a redhead, to a falcon. Finally, the oldest, with her raven black hair, to a bat. Like lightning, the creatures flew away into the night. “NOOO! THEY’VE ESCAPED YET AGAIN!”, Father screamed with rage. Dionxis was in complete shock; How could these three kind girls evoke such sorcery? Overwhelmed and bewildered, he fainted. The townsfolk quickly surrounded him and brought him to his home, where he slept for hours on end. His father stayed by his bedside, sick with worry.
When Dionxis woke up, he saw a pile of books and other relics that were being prepared to be burned. “Father, why? What is the meaning of this?”, Dionxis asked his father sleepily. “My boy, those girls you came across yesterday were evil. They are enemies of the Ixisians. We are destroying all of their items”, Father explained.
Dionxis was perturbed- the girls weren’t doing anything wrong, so why was the town going to burn all their belongings? It seemed unfair and drastic. Dionxis contemplated. How would he feel if somebody burned HIS precious books? The thought of it disgusted him deeply. He had no other choice, and when nobody was looking, he quickly grabbed a book from the pile and ran into the woods to find the girls.
Sadly, when Dionxis returned to the original place in the meadow where he met the girls, there was no trace of them: only a knocked over cauldron, which was spewing green slime onto the grass. The sight of the slime disgusted Dionxis, but he had more important things to worry about- finding the three mysterious girls. He searched in every little nook and cranny of the forest until he found a dark cave. To his surprise, inside the cave were the three girls, sitting around a purple fire.
“H-hello”, Dionxis said meekly. The girls looked at him, and he pulled out the book quickly. “They were going to burn your book. I thought I would bring it back to you”, he said nervously. The tallest walked over and bent over so she could be at his level. “Thank you. You aren’t like the other ones, are you?”, she asked him softly. “What do you mean?”, Dionxis asked, interested in what she was talking about.
“All the others try to kill us when they see us, but you- you're different. You want to explore life more than they do. And for that, you get to keep the book”, she smiled. Dionxis couldn't believe it! “R-really?”, Dionxis asked. The sisters nodded in unison. “Yes indeed. Follow the instructions of the book, and you will become like us. Goodbye now, child”, she said. She kissed him on the forehead, and like a flash, he was teleported back to his village, landing right on the doorstep of his house. Dionxis, confused and amazed, looked around in disbelief. He had a strange feeling that new possibilities awaited him in his future. With these great thoughts dancing in his head, he hugged the book, hid it underneath his coat, and ran into his house.
Inside the comfort of his home, Dionxis, brimming with curiosity, opened the book and started to read. “Chapter One. While it’s not enforced to have a broom, every successful witch needs one. Thus, it is highly recommended. This chapter will teach you how to enchant a Broom of Flying”, he read out loud. A broom? How was THIS going to help him? Dionxis was confused and filled with disbelief, but this only made him read more. “By simply taking a dash of Mugwort powder and peppering it over a broom, it will become enchanted”, he read some more.
Mugwort powder was a substance that Father had but forbade his son from using, but Dionxis was a curious boy. When no one was looking he took an old broom from the kitchen closet and used it to nudge the jar of Mugwort powder off the shelf. To his horror, it fell to the floor and shattered into hundreds of pieces. He nervously peered over his shoulder to make sure that the maid had not heard the destruction. Before he knew it, he was taking a handful of Mugwort powder and throwing it at the broom.
All of a sudden, the broom shot upwards like a rocket, crashed on the ceiling, and fell to the floor with a crash. It wearily got up and hovered in the air. Dionxis’s mind had been officially blown. He grabbed onto it, and he felt an odd sensation ran up his spine. Then, there was a knock on the door, and, oddly enough, the broom fell to the floor, lifeless.
“Open up, child!”, a deep, raspy voice called from the other side. Dionxis’s father told him to never answer the door to strangers, and this was definitely a stranger. His instincts caused Dionxis to grab the book and the broom and run upstairs to his bedroom. He anxiously looked out the window to see if he could identify the stranger. Below, he saw a man in a metal crow mask he had never seen before banging on the door angrily. “I would like to see you, child. Reveal yourself!”, the man demanded to Dionxis, peering through the cracks of the door in an attempt to see him. He pulled out a staff with a skull at the end of it and ever so lightly tapped the door, which fell to the floor with a bang. Slowly, the man entered Dionxis’s home.
“Disturbed child. Come out. I only wish to help you...”, the man said, tapping his staff around as he ascended the stairs. Dionxis didn’t know who this man was, but was horrified. He hugged the broom for comfort, which he noticed had begun to vibrate. Suddenly, the broom was hovering again. Dionxis was unsure what to do at first, but he could hear the man’s footsteps growing louder, so he clung on to the broom. Quick as a flash, the broom crashed through the window and into the forest, with Dionxis hanging on for dear life.
The broom landed in a muddy swamp, and the whiplash caused Dionxis to fall off. He got back up, and noticed the book was lying in the mud, open. He picked it up, and noticed that the page the book was open to had a picture of a man with a metal crow mask and a staff. “Death Doctors: These people try to hunt and kill witches”, Dionxis read aloud. He gulped, for now he knew why the man was at his home.
Dionxis was scared. He was lost in the forest, far away from his home. If he returned, he would be killed by the death doctor, but if he stayed, he knew that the wolves would take pleasure in eating a young boy like him. Where was he to go? And that’s when he saw it. A small blue flame was floating 3 feet away from him. It danced and swayed, and fled into the foggy forest, enticing Dionxis to follow it. Dionxis did what his instincts told him to do and ran after it, eager to find out more.
The flame brought Dionxis to an old, abandoned cottage, with a roof covered in jagged clay tiles, wooden shutters that were badly damaged, and wild vines that wrapped tightly around its exterior walls. Dionxis entered to find the house coated in dust and cobwebs. The flame entered the house and started to form what looked like letters. It read “WELCOME HOME DIONXIS”. Dionxis was startled-how did it know his name, and most importantly, was this his new home?
He decided this would be where he would settle. It was a safe place that didn’t have any hungry wolves or death doctors. It was beautiful and hidden from the world. It almost seemed magical. But Dionxis didn’t care. He sat on an old wooden stool and opened the book with a sense of ease. He wanted to get on with his witch training! Specifically, he wanted to learn how to transform into an animal next, like the girls did that fateful night before. And since he was finally alone, this was the perfect opportunity to research without any fear of getting caught.
It took a while, but he finally found the chapter where it discussed animal transformation. “To transform into an animal, you must clear your mind and think about what you desire in that moment. Then, snap your fingers. Assuming your mind is clear and your intentions are set, your brain will temporarily morph your body into an animal that will help you with the task at hand”, he read out loud. Dionxis found a dilemma in his plan to become an animal: he had no clear goal that he needed to urgently accomplish. He paced the dirt floor of the cottage, pondering on a goal.
Dionxis realized what was important to him: the safety of his father. He concentrated on that thought and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, he felt an unbearable pain, like his bones were breaking and shrinking simultaneously. Finally, when the pain subsided, he looked down at his hands. To his shock, he had more hands than usual. They were spindly and wire-like, like an insect’s. He jumped back in shock, and then noticed that the cottage appeared much bigger than it was a few minutes ago. The book about witches was now as big as a mountain. After a few minutes of confusion, Dionxis finally put the pieces together-he had turned into a wasp. This was the best day ever!
Once Dionxis learned how to flap his wings (which took a while), he flew out the window and over the forest. He loved the little sound that his wings made when he flew, and he giggled. His good vibrations stopped when he saw a thick cloud of smoke coming from a part of the forest. He flew over to see that there was a big fire in the middle of his village. He saw the villagers, standing around a big stake on fire, and on closer inspection, he could see the 3 girls tied to it. The oldest had her eyes closed, and the other two were screaming in pain.
Dionxis thought about trying to save them, but then remembered that he was still a wasp. All he could do was onlook sadly, as the most interesting girls he had ever met were burnt to a crisp. But then Dionxis noticed that the man who was leading the execution was wearing a metal crow mask. It was the death doctor that tried to take him earlier that day.
Suddenly, the death doctor turned and looked at Dionxis, who felt an intense chill as the doctor's gaze met his. At first, he didn’t think the doctor was looking at him, but when the doctor drew his finger across his neck, Dionxis knew he had been spotted.
He was so afraid that he turned around and flew away as fast as his little wings could take him. He didn’t notice the doctor aiming a crossbow at him, or the doctor shooting the arrow. He DID notice the arrow grazing his wings and ripping them off. And then he fell down, down, down...
“HELP! HELP ME!”, Dionxis yelled as he fell through the sky. He felt a painful sensation similar to the one he felt when he transformed, and when it stopped, he was human again. He screamed louder, but nobody came. Suddenly, he felt something hitting his face, and, even though he didn’t know what it was, he grabbed on for dear life. When he looked, he saw that he was grabbing onto the broom, which was hovering gracefully. “Bring me home!”, Dionxis yelled, and the broom flew all the way back to the hut.
When he arrived, Dionxis jumped onto the old, rugged couch and cried. He cried for the girls, who had done so many great things but were burned to death. He cried for the doctor, who invaded the comfort of his life and tried to take it all away from him. And finally, he cried for himself, who had almost died. He cried and cried until his eyes were red, and then he cried a little more after.
But wait a minute. Crying doesn't get you anywhere! This is something his father taught him. Dionxis remembered this and got up. He wouldn't let the doctor kill him! He decided he needed to find a way to stop the doctor from hunting him. He opened the book to look for anything that could help.
“An Electricibody potion is very powerful. You must drink the nectar of a Lightning Flower, mixed with flakes of grass. This will make your insides electric, making anyone who touches you meet a shocking conclusion”, Dionxis read aloud, grinning with glee.
“But where will I find a Lightning Flower?”, he wondered. As he knew, Lightning Flowers were hunted to extinction due to their beauty and powers. Helpfully, the broom flew over with a Lighting Flower riding it. “Thanks!”, Dionxis told his broom. He took the flower and squeezed it, causing the nectar to fall into a cup. He took some flakes of grass from outside and put them in the cup. “Bottoms up”, he laughed, and sipped it up. Suddenly, he felt a big wave of extreme heartburn, and when it stopped, he felt...different. The broom touched his arm, and it was electrocuted immediately. “It worked!”, Dionxis laughed.
Dionxis heard a knock on the door. When he opened it, he saw the doctor standing there menacingly. While Dionxis was afraid, he stood still, because he knew that the doctor couldn't hurt him. But oddly enough, the doctor opened up a sack and dumped Mugwort Powder over Dionxis’s head. “Silly boy. Have you been reading?? The only way to dispel Electricibody is to sprinkle Mugwort Powder over the head of the user”, the doctor laughed. He grabbed Dionxis and shoved him into a big sack. Everything went black.
When Dionxis awoke, he was chained to a table. The book was lying on his right, and the broom was on his left, in a cage. Dionxis was impossibly depressed because of his stupidity; why didn’t he read something right in front of him? Tears rolled down his sad face, and he hung his head. “Don’t cry, child. I will put you out of your misery”, the death doctor cooed as he stepped out of the shadows. He lifted up his staff, and a blade appeared at the top of it. This is it, Dionxis told himself.
Suddenly, a small bolt of red lightning shot from his forehead and hit the doctor, who fell to the floor. Dionxis was startled, for he had never done that before. His chains suddenly opened up, and he sat up quickly and grabbed the book, searching for an answer. “Quickshock is an essential combat spell. When a witch is about to be killed by an attacker, a bolt of red lightning has a 50% chance of shooting from their forehead to stop the attacker. Being able to do this is a sign of being a powerful witch”, Dionxis read out loud. He was startled- was he a powerful witch?
The doctor weakly stood back up, and Dionxis noticed that the metal crow mask had thick red cracks all over it. The mask fell apart with a crash, and Dionxis saw the face beneath the mask-THE FACE OF HIS FATHER. “Daddy?”, Dionxis asked him. His father fell to his knees. “You are going down the path of evil, son”, Father said. He fell face down again. Dionxis ran over to him and started shaking him rapidly, hoping for him to still be alive, but it was hopeless. His father, Jameson Henry Kinger, the death doctor, was dead.
After shedding a tear, Dionxis realized that he was alone now. He only had his book, his broom, and his house now. He decided he would learn the way of the witches, and become a powerful witch himself. He needed to return home, though, so he cleared his mind, thought of going home, and he snapped his fingers. His body morphed into a wasp, and he flew all the way home.
Erase the Pain
By Ana Ramirez
Excitement is all I can feel. Even stuck in this dark fabric pouch, I am quiet, sitting here, listening to the sounds of people arguing. All I can deduce is that they share a box and are not sharing the space evenly.
“Everybody hush,” a voice says
The other voices replied, “Yes, Mother,” and then fell silent.
“Crayons, am I right?” a voice says from the darkness, the scent of graphite filling the air.
“It changes by the pack, but this one seems to have blue as its mother, which is the most common.”
“Huh,” I reply, So, their crayons, that makes a lot of sense, they are fighting over their sections in the crayon box, “How many are there?” I ask.
“Fifteen, it seems.”
“Are they always like this?” I ask the darkness
“Yes, I’m afraid so, but good for you. Spin is mute.”
“Spin?” I questioned.
“The pencil sharpener: we all have names.” The darkness replies,
“What’s yours?” I ask, intrigued
“Quill, I’m a pencil” the pencil replies
“I’m an eraser, I don't know my name.” I say, a little sad.
“How about…Smudge?” Quill says
“Smudge, I like that.” I say. Me and Quill become fast friends talking and laughing, and going quiet to listen to the crayons, which I discover are Mama Nub, and her nublins. Before we know it, the fabric pouch, or as Quill said the pencil case opens, flooding the pouch with light as a small hand reaches in to grab Quill.
“Well, this is me, see you in a couple, Smudge.” Quill says as he gets carried out of the pencil case. I wave and decide to explore with this new found light. The inside of the pencil case is Navy blue, almost black, it's really spacious. I settled down next to Spin, and we sit in silence as I let my thoughts wander, I wonder why everything in this place revolves around Quill, there's the pencil sharpener, the pencil case, heck, he even has his own mini eraser, that must be why he knows so much. I get pulled out of my train of thought, when the hand reaches in again, and to my excitement, picks me up! I get carried away and placed on a big wood surface, and I see Quill. Before I can get a word out I am getting smudged against the paper, and all Quill's beautiful work is getting erased! I get placed on the table next to Quill.
“That was so exciting!” I say
“Yeah, I was not proud of the tail on that y. I'm glad it got erased, also, go you! Your first time being an eraser!” Quill says to me.
I am filled with pride so excited that this is my life, being an eraser is the best!
A couple days go by, and we are on the third day of second grade. Me and Quill have become best friends, and I have really grown to love the Nublins. Today is extra special because today the Nublins have their first day outside the pouch!
“Okay kids, this is your first day, it's okay if you make mistakes, because no mistake cant be forgiven.” Mama Nub tells the Nublins
“Yes Mama.” the Nublins reply just as the pouch is opened, blinding us all with light, and the little hand reaches in and grabs all of us one by one. I get placed on the familiar wood surface and I see my kid immediately pick up Red Nublin. He starts coloring on his paper, and I hear sniffles coming from the crayon box beside me.
“Oh Mama Nub, are you okay?” I ask her.
“Oh I’m fine, just, my baby is all grown up.” She sniffles.
To my surprise my kid picks me up, and- wait, what? The boy tries to erase the red crayon! Doesn't he know that you can't erase crayon?
“Smudge!” I hear Quill call out, and there is fear in his voice that I can’t shake.
Before I know it, I am getting smudged across the red, and it doesn't erase, it just gets all over me.
“Oh no.” the kid says then he tries to fix it, but fails. In the kid's haste, and anger he starts stabbing me with Quill and I am filled with pain. I can hear Quill screaming in protest and Mama Nub telling her kids to look away. Then, to my horror the pencil slips, Quill slips, and the point snaps. I cry out as the shard of lead stuck in my back, but of course the kid can’t hear me and I look up and see the kid's anger stricken face, he doesn't know he’s hurting me. The pain eases only slightly and I get thrown back in the pouch. I'm glad for the darkness, because then I can’t see my ruined self.
“I'm so sorry, Smudge.” Quill says from the darkness.
“It's okay, it wasn't your fault.” I say with a shaky breath “I think I just want to be left alone.” I curl up in the corner and cry until I hear someone approach me.
“Hold still dear, let me help get this out.” I hear Mama Nub say from behind. Then after a moment of pain, all is quiet, only the dread of what will happen next fills the air so thickly it's hard to breathe,
Day after day we do our work with the kid, but anytime he gets mad, he takes it out on one of us, mainly me. Quill tries to help, tries to stop hurting us, he tries to self sabotage, to no avail. We try one last plan, Spin refuses to sharpen Quill. Leaving a dull point that has to work, right?. I love Quill, I really do but it proves to be hard time and time again, to love someone who hurts you.
I look up to see the zipper on the pencil case moving, and what was once a welcoming light, now causes me dread. That kid reaches in to grab me and Quill, he sets us down on the table and tries to sharpen Quill with Spin. Spin refuses to sharpen, and I watch as the kids face twists from confusion to anger. The events unfold in front of me, almost in slow motion as the kid grabs Quill and marches over to the trash can, breaks Quill in half and throws him down in the metal can, piece by piece, each making a haunting clank.
“QUILL!” I scream, pain filling my voice. The kid stomps back towards the desk, anger all over that tiny face, and picks me up just to throw me in the pencil case, darkness engulfs me once more. As much as I want to cry, relief washes over me, and guilt for feeling that relief.
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” Mama Nub says, trying to comfort me
“I’ll be okay Mama Nub, I’ll be okay-” I get cut off by the surprise of the pouch opening again. And then I see a flash of an orange something getting dropped in before the pouch gets zipped up again.
“Who are you?” I ask the new figure in the darkness
“I’m Sketch, the new pencil!” The darkness says as my heart drops and I wonder, will there ever be a way to erase the pain?
6th Grade
Short Stories
The Witch’s Gallow
By Gia Ferrazzani
“Uuugh!” Oakley screamed. You could barely hear her over the outrageously loud new church bell.
Connor reached out his hand and reluctantly picked her up, "Why do you have to be so clumsy all the time, and at the worst moments?”
“Shut up!” Oakley spat back in the most intimidating way she possibly could. Connor didn't seem to care, seeing as though he was a six-foot-tall fifteen-year-old boy and Oakley was only 5 '8, even though she was older than him. The church building was so close you could practically see the sheer amount of distress coming from the townspeople inside. The closer and closer Oakley’s hand got to the door, the worse and worse the siblings felt. Oakley grabbed the wooden handle and slowly swung the door open. All heads whipped toward the brother and sister. The two quietly slipped into the spot next to their neighbor Prudence. Oakley’s silvery blue eyes flickered around the room, looking for their mother. A bead of sweat slid down her pale white face.
Prudence shot up out of her seat and grabbed Oakley's arm and said, “This one! This one has shown many signs!”
Oakley screamed, “LET ME GO!” She clawed at Prudence’s hand, squirming around to get out of her grip, but Prudence dragged Oakley out of the row and onto the floor. Oakley shrieked. It was the most horrible thing Connor had ever heard.
“Get up off the floor, girl. Walk over there BY YOUR STUPID MOTHER!!”Oakley realized all at once that there was a woman on the floor, and it was her mother.
Enraged, Oakley screamed at Prudence, “Get off me, you awful witch!!!” She scrambled over to her mother who was lying unconscious on the floor. Her head was bleeding, her face was wrecked and her fingers were broken. Tears like broken diamonds brimmed in her eyes waiting to gracefully fall down her smooth, pale face.
Seeing her eyes and recognizing what was going to happen, Connor rushed to her side.
“You idiot, you're gonna get yourself killed, or worse you're going to grieve yourself to death,” Connor exclaimed. Oakley started to have trouble breathing. She felt lightheaded, and black was closing in on her vision. Suddenly she couldn't feel anything at all, nor could she see anything or even sense anything except her emotions and thoughts. Anger was flowing out of her like the Vernal falls.
Connor shook Oakley like a maraca, screaming, “Wake up, wake up!” but she wouldn't wake up from her horrible trance. Connor noticed that Oakley’s hands started to clench, and her nails dug deep into her hands to the point that they began to bleed. Without any warning, she let out an agonizing wail and every second it carried on felt like a millennia of horrible screams coming from every direction ripping into his skull.
“Stop! You witch! Somebody do something about the girl and the others. Put them on trial!” Prudence squealed as if she was in pain. Connor shot up to strangle his horrible neighbor, but some of the town's other strong men held him back. He breathed heavy and strained as he tried to fight back, but his muscles felt weak, limbs limp.
The air smelled of winter and rotten wood and her head felt like a thousand blades stabbing into her skull. Oakley woke up in a wooden cage with other young girls. Their cheeks were flushed and tear-stained, eyes red and puffy, their skin showing only three colors: green, white, and pink. She looked around the cage for her mother and her brother Connor. Her hands stung like dirt in an open wound. Oh wait, that is what it is, Oakley thought. Her heart felt weighed down to the Earth's core as she remembered why she was there and accepted that her mother was gone and her brother was probably in some distant part of Salem, MA.
Oakley sat down and curled up into a ball. Her hands were as cold as ice, so she tried to warm up by breathing warm air on them. After a while, her hands were warm, and she was out of breath. She felt like she had just inhaled a block of ice and it was clogging up her airway. The sky turned dark. Her mouth was dry and at this point, she felt if she cried anymore, she would run out of water altogether and the tears would freeze immediately like icicles that would shatter on the floor like glass. Every icy breath was like a stab to her lungs. The bags under her eyes swollen from trying to stay awake, afraid that if she drifted off she'd die.
Two or more weeks passed and the servants taking care of them gave them just enough food and water to keep them from starving until the trial. Even so, many still died for other awful reasons that are better left unsaid. One morning, Oakley heard a “psst" coming from the side of the cage that sounded a lot like her brother. Skeptical, but hesitant, she looked toward where the sound came from, and surely enough, it was Connor. Oakley sprinted toward the side of the cage that Connor was on. His clothes looked rough and unwashed, his face almost as pale as her's despite him having the most beautiful bronze skin. His golden brown hair was ruffled and unkempt. The bags under his eyes were the worst Oakley had ever seen.
“Why are you here? What if someone sees you? What if…..?”
Connor cut her off, “Shh! Well first thing, shut up, and second listen up.”
“But…”
Yet again he cut her off, “Again! Shut up and listen! I've devised a plan to help you win the trial.”
“WHAT?! REALLY?! THANK YOU!” She said a little too loud for comfort.
“Shut up, and yes, you're welcome!” He slipped her a stack of papers with a ton of writing on them.
“Wow, that's a lot, like, a lot a lot,” Oakley gasped.
“Yes, and you have to memorize every single possibility, so you can win this trial,” Connor said with his brow furrowed. Connor seemed delirious and she just knew he hadn’t got a wink of sleep since she’d been put in the horrible cage. And of course, she was right in thinking that he hadn’t. All he had done for the past couple of weeks was write every possible situation for how the trial could go along with all the right answers. The two had lost everyone in their life; all they had was each other. So, Oakley agreed to memorize it all to make him feel better. But of course, she knew she couldn’t. Even if she spent millions of years in this cage, she wouldn’t be able to memorize it all. She would do her best to improvise, though honestly, she was never really good at that either.
Almost a month passed and she hadn’t seen Connor since he’d given her the papers and Oakley was starting to get concerned. Every day she spent there she could feel herself going a little more insane. No one would talk to her and she was starting to think that they all thought she was actually a witch.
The day of the trial came. Tick, tick, tick her brain went after every second went by. The anxiety was infuriating like watching paint dry with no end, but in this, there was an end and it was supposed to be soon. Everyone was tied to a rope outside the church where they did the trials and every other important thing. She heard screams from the people, some from the accused and some from the others. Every time she would see someone crying, she would become more worried. Only an eighth of the people that had gone so far were relieved. There were only a few people left.
“Smith, Oakley. Uh, Oakley Smith,” a strange man that she had never seen before said.
“Here, hi, that's me, Oakley Smith.” The man grabbed her and dragged her into the building. So many eyes pressed down on her like the heavens pressed on the Greek Titan, Atlas who held up the sky.
Oakley stepped forward, her heart thrashing around inside her. Oakley stood there for a second overcome by the pressure and fear. One of the judges cleared his throat very loudly and it sounded like he needed it.
Oakley glanced up and whispered, “Hi?” confused about what she should say.
“What!” the third juror on the right said in a disgusted voice.
“Hi, my name is um Oakley, um, Oakley Smith.” Practically all the people in the room narrowed their eyes. Suddenly Oakley felt even more uncomfortable than she did before.
“So, um miss. um, Oakley, what is your testimony?” one of the men on the left mockingly asked in a snobby. sophisticated voice.
“Oh, yes,” Oakley said with a little polite curtsy. Prudence and some others threw themselves to the back of their seats. Some of the judges gasped and started jotting some things down angrily. Oakley, feeling frustrated, thought back to a game she played when she was little, where they would do tricks and skills to impress the pretend judges. She danced around telling the church her story with a sort of assertiveness that she hoped would help her win over the judges. Some were scowling, some had surprised looks on their faces. After she finished, she brought in her brother, Connor and her best friend Olly, a short brunette boy. Olly sold her case perfectly, but on the other hand, Connor was broken and somehow still breaking. Olly had to rip him off her leg and push him off the platform. It broke her heart to see what had become of her brother. She blinked her tears away as fast as they came. Then came the final verdict. Oakley’s heart pounded like the thundering of war drums before battle. She looked around to her brother and her friend, but all eyes were glued to the main judge in the middle. Everyone held their breath when the judge raised the mallet, even Prudence.
“The final verdict is…D…E…A…” Oakley didn’t even need to hear the rest of the word before she rushed over to her brother. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her heart was heavy with darkness and sadness. I’m going to die, she thought.
Connor blacked out; his mind blank and ears ringing until he heard the smack of the mallet on the table. He blinked the glaze from his eyes to see if his sister, his only living relative, was jumping around celebrating their victory. Instead, he saw her by his side sobbing on his shoulder. Oakley said goodbye with a shaky voice and a forced smile. Some men dragged her away before he could respond.
A week passed without Connor seeing his older sister. He spent every second before his sister's death planning for a way to save her. Then the dreadful day came. All of Salem was gathered around the murder contraptions. 5, 10, 15, 20, 25 or more people had gone, all of their screams ringing in his ears. When his sister stepped up to the gallow to be hung, his heart stopped. He could see his sister's shoulders shaking, eyes watering. But most of all he could see her looking around for him everywhere, hoping to see her younger brother whom she loved so much one more time before she died.
Where is he? Where is he? her brain screamed, her heart shattering more and more every second. The rough scratchiness of the rope around her neck was killing her. Well, it didn’t matter if the rope was comfortable or not. Nothing mattered except seeing Connor one last time, she thought solemnly. Oakley closed her eyes as they prepared for them to drop the floor from under her. She heard the lever creak as the floor slid open beneath her feet. She let out a long squeal as the rope snapped and she fell into someone's strong arms. They wrapped around her, and her vision went black with fear.
“Who, who are you?” Oakley barely managed with the rope still around her neck.
“Shhh it doesn't matter, all that matters is that you're safe now,” said the stranger softly. She felt the quick thumping of his feet on the floor. She was tired and stressed and she needed rest, so she chose to believe him and drift off to sleep.
“So then what happened?” the reporter asked intrigued.
“That was it,” the two responded in unison.
“Well, I mean I found out it was him. We rushed to Peabody and made a life there. What else is there to say?” she responded.
"Yes, yes, well, I’m so thankful that you indulged us with your time and your story. I know it must be hard coming back here,” the woman reporter commented.
“Yes it was, but I think I also really needed it. I think we both did. What do you think, Connor?” she replied.
“Yes, Oakley, I agree.”
A Dream, A Letter
By Nale’a Calderon
It was a cold, slow, drowsy, morning, one of those that seems to last most of the day. Even though the sun was out and drenched the garden, the chill in the air made me shiver in my pajamas. I was eating some cereal, reading this stupid letter to myself for the millionth time.
“Morgain.
The world is filled with more people than is countable in one lifetime. No matter how hard you try, you cannot count everyone. You cannot give your time…”
I bit my lip, fighting a losing battle with my tear ducts. I’ve read this letter more times than the sun has risen and fallen. Why did it still hurt? Would she have left if she knew that my father would die? Questions with no answers soared through my head. I took another bite of cereal, to stop me from gritting my teeth. I am eighteen now. She left when I was 5, and I still don't understand. I’m not sure whether I love her or hate her. I wish that it was as simple as love versus hate. I guess I really just don't know her.
Rita, a tall, thin old woman, with a brown graying knot atop her head, decided this was a perfect moment to come crawling out of her dark corner.
“You're reading it again.”
I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because of how hilariously cruel it was.
“You need to get out more, Morgain. This is your time of youth, enjoy it.”
I laughed harder.
“Yeah? Well my youth ended when a certain car collided with a wall and killed the last person who actually cared.”
Rita sighed, but didn't bother responding. She knew better. A year with me told her I was beyond reason. There are a large number of books and movies I’ve seen where the main character’s special someone dies on a special day that was usually special because the protagonist got into a fight with them or forgot to say goodbye before the special someone left to do whatever mediocre crap they had planned before they bite the dust. I’ve been over the day of my father’s death again and again, and haven’t found anything remotely interesting, which I guess is a blessing as much as a curse.
The day I lost Dad I was 17, still in high school, and had just got my driver's license. We had celebrated by watching one of Dad’s favorite weird old movies that I didn’t fully understand, Inception. He woke up in one of those excited-dad moods, so infectious that it made you excited and happy too, no matter how you tried to act like a moody teenager. He insisted that even though I had my newly earned license, he would drop me off. A ceremonial-last-drop-off-before-my-first-steps-into-woman-hood as he had put it. I specifically remember rolling my eyes while smiling from ear to ear. Memory’s a funny friend and foe. I remember that, but not where I last saw my favorite doll when I was a kid. Or where I mis-placed my car keys. But this…I remembered. Before dropping me off, he said,
“Love you, princess.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
“You look so much like your mother.”
“What?”I whispered. He hadn’t heard me. Instead, he drove off, and that was the last time I saw him.
I woke up in a cold sweat. I’d dreamed of that day before, but I had never noticed what he had said. You look so much like your mother? I only had one memory of him talking about her, how they met, but other than that, not a syllable. I must have dreamed it, my brain got bored, decided to mess with me. I shuddered, the sweat on my back becoming acquainted with the draft. I got up from the bed, floor boards squirming underneath under my weight, and went down to our kitchen for breakfast.
Sam and Rita are best friends, and know everything about every one. After living with them for a year, I’d make the reasonable accusation that their relationship is more sisterly than anything else. Widowed and with no children, they moved in together next door to me and my dad’s house. We became so close that after my dad died, they let me move in since I had no other family.
Sam is short and squat, with long white hair, and wears only shapeless floral dresses. She has a high, squeaky voice that was more of a bird chirp. She was the cheerleader that wasn’t at the top of the pyramid, nor the bottom, she wasn’t especially smart, never class president, or had a particularly interesting job. Actually, she only had two things that made her noticeable to others. One, she was the town gossip. She loved to tell stories. Two, she charmed the most handsome, stoic man in her time, Rory Crewsif.
Rita, on the other hand, was strict and stern, honest and blunt, and a little sassy, with a quick wit. She attended college for business and to become a school teacher. She got married to Robert Williams, an equally young and successful man with a quip at the tip of his tongue at all times. This tiny little town was scared of someone like Rita, who could have easily left for New York, or Paris, or Los Angeles, or, like, anywhere else other than here. Not that Rita gave a damn. She liked it here so she would stay here. Who cares what anyone else thinks?
Unlike yesterday, they are both at the breakfast table on this fine morning, Rita reading a newspaper, and Sam eating pancakes. Sam greeted me with a smile, and slid a plate of pancakes across the island. I dug in, and noticed it was raining. God, I love Idaho. It was sunny yesterday without a hint of warmth and now it’s raining. Then my dream reached my train of thought once more. You look so much like your mother You look so much like your mother You look so much like your mother YOU LOOK SO MUCH LIKE YOUR MOTHER
It rained.
“What was my mother like?”
It continued.
Rita looked over her newspaper, eyebrows raised. Sam shifted her weight. They exchanged glances, Sam looked like she was asking permission to tell me. I guess she got approval.
“I was 23, working as a waitress, when I got wind of the newest, strangest, most alien thing in town, Riot Girl.”
The sudden change in atmosphere made me cringe. Sam was smiling so wide, her eyes glittering with remembrance. She had an expression of utmost happiness, like she was always meant to tell stories. The shift pushed me back and drew me in like powerful tides.
“She was in middle school, but she partied as hard as the high school football team. She organized protests against everything . She didn’t go to church. She was an abomination. She was terrifying. She was amazing.”
Her eyes lit up, like Sam herself was hearing this for the first time.
“It wasn’t until after I married my dearest Rory that I learned her name. Chiara Gilding.”
I smiled. I hadn’t heard anyone say my mother’s name out loud in a long time. It made it easier for me to imagine why I was like Chiara.
“That was around the time I learned something else. Our town’s Riot Girl was in love.”
She paused, glancing around.
“She was in love with the Mayor’s own son, she was. And apparently, he was just as smitten. People weren’t happy. It took a year of them together in highschool for people to finally accept it. Though to be fair, Riot Girl was much calmer in those years. I was 31 when they got married and moved into the cute little house next door. A year later they had the most beautiful, smart, wonderful little girl in the whole wide world. And lived Happily ever aft—”
Rita shook her head. Sam looked ashamed, confused and embarrassed like a puppy with its tail in between its legs. I knew exactly why.
“And that's about it. The End.”
I wish they didn’t try to protect me from the world. Believe it or not, I am an adult. I’m not a stupid, deranged, fragile teenage lobotomy case. You would think they thought I was allergic to actual feelings. The more they try to help, the more I push back.
Later that day, I looked up Chiara 's name meaning, and found that it meant bright and luminous. That's how I imagined Chiara, bright and luminous, but I couldn’t see my mother like that. No, to me, Chiara and my mother are polar opposites, both of which I know little about. I squeezed my pillow hard and close to my chest as I lay there, and cried at the truth of my situation. I hadn’t cried in a while. Chiara, was like a figment of my imagination, a friend I made up to bring me comfort, and my mother was an absolute mystery. I wish I knew why she left. I wish I could meet her. I wish there was a way. I wish I wish I wish that's all I ever do. Can’t I do something? Can’t I find a way? It’s not a matter of can’t and can, but of will and won’t. I will do something. I will find a way. I started to cry again, but this time, it was a cleansing, refreshing rain washing over a barren land wretched with drought kind of cry.
I sat up straight, the strangest kind of feverish adrenaline making me feel like I could run a mile. I whipped tears from my face, and stared at my room. It was, shockingly, a mess. Pity flowers from pitying people were everywhere, clothes on the floor, papers that were probably important at some point lying without purpose littered in various states of crumpled-ness. How could I let my life decay to such ruin? I felt like I let my father, my mother, down. Like I left the old me with dreams for the future down. And I cleaned. I threw out the pity flowers, did laundry, sorted through everything from old homework to lip jellies that had long since turned. Most things went in the garbage or the shredder, and I made a mental note of everything I needed to buy. Then I found college applications. It hit a heart string, and I set it to the side as I regained control. I reminded myself that my life isn’t over yet, that I still have time, still have the chance to make something of myself, to be happy. I’ll get a job. I'll go to college. I’ll find a way to pull myself out of this hole, because that's what they would have wanted. That's what I want.
Scissors and Tea
By Emmeline Hwang
*bàba = dad, māmā = mom, Jiayi - (CHYA-YEE), apothecary = 1800s pharmacy
San Francisco, April 5, 1882 - 5:06 P.M. *Cough…cough…* The door creaks open.”Bàba?” I hear footsteps approaching the corner. “Jiayi? Is your mother home?” Bàba’s gruff voice is followed with another wheeze.
“Yes, she’s out back.” In front of me, bàba’s trousers are coated in soil and dirt as he clears his throat.
“What’s for – cough…cough…cough..” I flinch. Bàba collapses onto our dusty floors hacking away.
“Māmā!” I shout in fear. “Bàba isn’t feeling well!” I run to the back door, which is crooked to its side.
“Jiayi, what’s wrong?” Māmā is hanging the laundry on the dry-line, her hands still wet.
“Bàba – he’s not feeling well.” I repeat. She wipes her palms on the sides of her waist and rushes inside. I follow after her.
…
“He will be fine. Only a bit ill.” Māmā rubs Bàba’s head then turns to face me.
“Now, give him some space.” She scurries me out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, to help with supper. I chop some onions and soak the tofu for extra flavor. Bland smells fill the kitchen as I peek into the room again. Bàba is already sleeping. “Ayh! Come help me!”
Dinner is quiet besides the bustle outside our apartment window and my stomach is only half full when I excuse myself from the table. A glance outside tells me it’s dark out already. “Māmā, I’m going to bed now.” I head towards my bedroom without waiting for a response. Inside, my shabby cot and blankets tossed on a wooden bed frame sits awkwardly at the corner of the room. Before tucking myself in, I slide the door to the side for my own privacy. I stare at the ceiling. Small drops of water drip through a crack and into the bucket at the front of my bed. We aren’t the richest, but māmā says we’re very lucky to have an apartment, even if the ceilings leak. Bàba works as a farmhand from 5:00 AM - 5:00 PM, and māmā stays at home to wash and cook with my help sometimes. It makes sense; working all day, bàba could’ve easily caught an illness.
“Jiayi?” I hear my name being called.
“Coming, māmā!” I push my blankets off in a hurry, knowing I wasn’t falling asleep any time soon.
“Jiayi, I’m going out to the apothecary.” That catches me by surprise.
“This late? You can’t go tomorrow?”
She starts to pull her jacket on. “Your father needs proper medication right now and we can’t afford anywhere else.” She pulls open the door. A soft breeze blows my long hair in rhythmic waves. “Watch bàba while I’m gone. Don’t let him out of bed. He needs rest.” Before I can retort, the door shuts and my hair abruptly falls to my shoulders. I turn to look behind me, where the muffled snores of my father sound out from the bedroom. I don’t think he’s getting out of bed.
San Francisco, April 5, 1882 - 6:47 P.M. I want to fall asleep, but my mind is still awake. Before going back to bed, I pray that Bàba will feel better within a few days, for we don’t know what illness has come upon him.
“Jiayi..come here please.” Bàba’s voice startles me and my heart skips a beat.
“Yes, Bàba?” I slide the door to the opposite side and see him lying in bed, his head only visible while the rest of his body is layered with thin blankets.
“I know your mother wants me in bed, but I’m practically starving.” He begins to sit up but I gesture for him to stop and stay in bed.
“I’ll get you some food.” I run to the kitchen and rummage through the cabinets. Tofu – no, mushrooms – no, tea? Maybe. I stroke my chin while staring at our limited options.
“Bàba, would you like tea with some rice?” I yell back to him, not looking back.
“Yes please. Do we have brown rice?” He shouts back. I tug at the heavy sack of rice and inspect it. “Yes, we have brown rice!” I look back this time and bàba doesn’t respond so I presume that he wants brown rice.
15 - 25 minutes later, the rice is steaming in the porcelain bowl while the floral pattern dances along the rim. As I touch the bowl to my fingers, a searing sensation burns my hands, almost causing the bowl to drop to the floor. I inhale through gritted teeth and poke my head in bàba’s direction, making sure I didn’t wake him from his deep sleep. I tip-toe quietly into the room and place the bowl on the small bedside table. After creeping out, I stare at the window then the cabinet. Now, I needed to find a tea for bàba. I slide out the basket filled with cheap tea leaves māmā hoards in our kitchen. Green tea comes first to mind so I pull it out on instinct. A bitter aroma wafts upward from the boiling water. Mmm…I breathe in the delicious flavors entwined with the steam. I place a rag beneath the tea cup to avoid burns; after all, I learned my lesson from last time.
“Bàba, your tea is ready.” I shake him awake and whisper into his ear. His disheveled hair moves a few inches before his entire body is sitting up. “Oh–Jiayi, you’re here.” Bàba acts startled then asks me to pass the tea.
“Are you feeling okay? You seem a little hot.” Beads of sweat are soaked into his face and hands.
“Yes, I’m alright. Jiayi, you should get in bed before your mother gets back. That reminds me of māmā and how she’s been gone for a while. “
Okay.” I respond slowly, then look down to where his empty bowl of rice sits. “I’ll take this with me.” I grab the bowl which has cooled down. However, as I walk to the kitchen, I hear the door rattle subtly.
“Jiayi, I’m back!” I’m too surprised to answer, then shake out of it.
“Oh – yes. I –”
“Did your father get out of bed? Did he eat? How is he feeling?” I’m attacked by questions before I can respond.
“Yes māmā, he got some rest and I got him some food.” Māmā strides in my direction then looks towards the kitchen.
“I can tell. My tea leaves are out.” She drops some medication onto the table and lets her jacket fall off. “You haven’t slept yet have you?” Māmā eyes me down with a glint of concern in her eyes.
“Ehh..not yet. But Bàba told me before you got home.” I look up at her, scared to see what she says.
But instead, she brushes it off lightly “I think we should cut your hair. It’s getting too long.” The sudden statement came out randomly. I look down at the strokes of dark brown and black in my hair.
“I guess…” I hesitate and grasp my hair like it’s a prized treasure at the same time.
“Think about it. It will get too long some day.”
Māmā leaves the room to check on Bàba as I walk back to bed with the thought lingering in my head.
San Francisco, April 6, 1882 - 4:58 A.M. The next morning, a figure is leaning over my head, shaking me awake. Dry tears from my drowsy state solidify my eyelids halfway shut.
“Jiayi, your mother is in the kitchen.”
Huh? Is that a sign that I should wake up? But…wait.. “Bàba! Are you feeling better?” In a flash, I pounced upwards into bàba’s arms. “Yes, Jiayi. It was only a night.”
“Thanks to your mother!” Māmā’s voice hollers in our direction. “That medication had to be bought by someone!” She reminds us. Bàba chuckles slightly and leans in towards my ear.
“I think it was the tea that actually helped.” He whispers. “Just don’t tell your mother or she’ll stop buying tea leaves.” He said jokingly. Bàba looks up to inhale the warm sunbeams gleaming through the cracks in our roof. “Thank you, Jiayi.” I can’t help but smile, and look up with him. “You’re a very considerate girl, always looking out for others.” He pats my head and leaves the room. Now that bàba was feeling well, he had to go back to the farms.
“Jiayi! Come eat!”
“Coming!” I stare out the window and watch bàba walk down the road, my eyes follow him until his head is out of view. For some reason, an enthusiastic feeling seemed to bubble up within me.
San Francisco, April 6, 1882 - 6:21 A.M. “Māmā?” I devour a spoonful of rice.
“Chew before you speak, Jiayi.” I stop talking but the scold was weak. “Sorry. Can I ask you something?” Māmā turns to face me, two bowls of chopped vegetables in her hands. “Yes?”
“Well, that thing you were saying about getting a haircut…” I look up at her with a mix of slyness and hesitance and don’t complete my sentence.
“A haircut? I thought you weren’t sure about it.” She walks in my direction and places the bowls onto the table.
“I just thought – well maybe..like in honor of Bàba feeling better. It can be like a surprise for when he comes home.” Māmā looks at me, arms crossed.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” She smiles slightly and brushes my hair behind my ear. “Thank you!” I jump up, that feeling of enthusiasm bursting out. “Ayh! Finish eating first!”
Māmā settles me into one of our flimsy wood chairs, and wraps a rag around my neck. “This is to provide a place for loose hair to fall, so don't move too much.” She pulls back my hair and clips something to hold it up in the back. I lean forward and hear small snippeting from the scissors. I shut my eyes, so I can imagine my hair chopped off. “Jiayi, how short?” I feel māmā’s tender hands braise my neck as she reaches for more of my hair.
“To my shoulders if possible. Anything but a bowl-cut māmā.” I close my eyes tighter as I hear a small chortle from her.
“Anything but a bowl-cut hmm..? I had one, your father had one. What’s wrong with it?” More snipping noises sound out, and I feel Māmā’s presence shift to the other side of my head.
“It looks so …. round…Don’t blame me for not wanting a bowl-cut!” I snort, and Māmā tilts my head downwards. “Okay, just to your shoulders then.” I hear Māmā’s tone reluctantly give in.
A few minutes later, my eyelids have become sore from closing my eyes. “Done yet?” I ask for the fifth time in the last two minutes.
“Not if you keep asking! Be patient!” Māmā makes a few more cuts and brushes my hair with a spritz of water. “Okay, open your eyes Jiayi.” I slowly flick my eyes open, my vision slightly blurred from the eyelid pressure. A whole new me appeared in the mirror. My hair still contained the beautiful strokes of color but instead of hanging down, it ended in a short bob that curled mildly at the tips. I stare in awe. “Do you like it?” Māmā says while sweeping up the bits of old hair scattered around the floor.
“I love it.” I stir out of my seat and give Māmā a warm embrace.
“It does suit you.” She lightly strokes my hair at the scalp, and pulls away from the hug.
“So when is Bàba coming home?” I bounce on the balls of the feet, waiting for a response. She chuckles, while propping the broom up against the wall. “Jiayi, it’s still morning! Your father won’t be home ‘till 5:00!
San Francisco, April 6, 1882 - 5:10 P.M. The door creaks open slightly, and I see the silhouette of Bàba’s head peeking out from the crack. I quickly pull myself back behind the wall before he spots me. I can’t fully see what they’re doing, but I hear Māmā and Bàba converse in Mandarin through low, soft voices. Footsteps…footsteps…”Jiayi?” Before more can be said, I jump out from the corner and into Bàba’s arms.
“Hi Bàba!” I shout with enthusiasm. His smile lights up my mood and I hug him tighter, then look back at him. “Anything look different?”
I sway from side to side with a bright grin. “Oh, Jiayi! Your hair is so beautiful! It’s a new you!”
“Thank you Bàba.”
I flutter at the compliment then jump back into a hug with both Māmā and Bàba. I repeat in a content whisper.
“A new me.”
Honorable
Mention
Running from Bad Luck
By Nicki Soto
As the breeze hit Alexi’s face, she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm. She was walking in the small open woods near her town, not expecting it to be so cold. As she makes her way home from the small walk she passes by to what seems to be an old, abandoned castle. She tilted her head to take in the gorgeous sight of the tall, dark castle. Immediately Alexis thought of all the fun and rebellious things she could do for fun, especially with her friend Leah. Alexis then takes a photo of the area so she can come back to this place with her friend, Leah.
The next day on Monday morning, Alexis meets with her friend Leah in the halls of their school. After greeting each other Alexis starts to tell Leah about the castle she had found and wants to explore the castle with her. As usual, Leah immediately declines and shakes her head no, but Alexis doesn’t listen and starts to beg her to come with her.
“Come on Leah, you know you want to go. Please, just go with me, it's not like we'll get in trouble or anything.” Alexis says as she looks over at Leah with pleading eyes.
“Ugh, fine, but I swear if we get in trouble….” Leah says as she rolls her eyes, but she is excited about seeing this castle with Alex. As the day goes on and the hours pass the last bell of the day rings, and both walk to the front gate to walk home together. When they see each other, they start walking in the direction of their house and Alexis starts to speak and plan out how the trip will go.
“Alright, so tomorrow evening you'll head over to my house and we'll tell my parents we're going for a walk. Cause we're not going to take long exploring the castle, right?” Alexis says as she looks over at Leah, hoping she’ll agree to the plan. “Eh, I guess that's a good idea, but where did you say you found this castle?” Leah asks with a concerned look.
“Oh, just a couple miles into the woods,” Alexis says with no worry. Leah thought for a moment to process the information but then remembered the many times they went in and out of the woods safely, so she agreed with the plan. Then they both turned their separate ways to get to their house and waved goodbye before crossing the street.
The next day when Alexis woke up she looked out of the window with a smile and took in the beautiful, gloomy day. She was so excited for the day ahead and for the time she would spend with Leah. In the meantime, Alexis grabs her backpack that she usually uses for school and empties it out to fill it up with things that will be useful for the trip. After a while, she gets a notification from Leah telling her she's on her way and Alexis smiles.
Soon after there was a knock on Alexis’s front door. Alexis ran downstairs and opened the door for her with a bright smile and greeted her inside. As Leah made her way inside Alexis noticed that she didn't have any sort of bag. That's when Leah spoke up. “Sorry I didn't bring anything, I didn't know what to pack,” she said, ducking her head in shame, but this was another way of guttering away from going to the castle with Alexis.
“That's alright, I packed everything we should need. We’ll be fine, trust me.” Alexis said as she grabbed her backpack and yelled out to her parents. “We're leaving now, see you guys in a couple of hours!” As they both stepped out of the house Leah couldn't help but feel worried something bad might happen to them. While they walked away from their small town and into the woods, closer to the castle, something they didn't know was that the castle had a curse for whoever entered. Once they reached the castle their head tilted upwards to get a full view of the beautiful castle, and the closer they stepped to the main gates the more bad luck was surrounding them. As both of them stepped up the stairs they heard a loud rumble of thunder. Alexis thought it was a funny coincidence and laughed, but Leah on the other hand didn't feel so excited anymore. She took a couple of steps back, but Alexis reached for Leah’s wrist to prevent her from leaving. Then when Alexis opened the tall doors, rats started to run out and they gasped and gave each other a disgusted look. Their gaze then followed as the hundreds of rats ran across the front porch and scattered into the woods. Once it was clear they stepped inside and saw a grand staircase in the middle of the main room. Alexis smiled with excitement and let go of Leah’s writs to run up the stairs. Leah followed her close behind so she wasn't left behind. While Alexis and Leah went through almost every room in the castle the more bad luck was developing in themselves. So far it had been three hours that they had spent in the castle and they had reached the top of the castle. They were on the castle battlements and they were able to see their small town on the far horizon. The rain had just stopped and that strong earthy smell was in the air, so Alex breathed it in enjoying the moment. This is beautiful isn't it?” she asked Leah. "It is-" Leah said but was cut off by the sound of grumbling from the other side of the battlement. When they turned to look at where the sound came from, they gasped to see the castle start to crumble down.
"Okay, I think it's time we leave,” Leah says as she looks over at Alexis with concern and fear. “Yeah, that's a good idea” Alexis agreed and took Leah’s hand and both started to run down multiple staircases as the breakage of the castle was getting worse. From above they heard the crashing of the stone walls crumbling down. The bad luck that they had been developing was starting to get the better of them and a piece of stone wall fell from the ceiling and had gotten in their way.
“No, no, no…” Leah whined
“Don't worry there's got to be a way to move this” Alexis said reassuringly and tried to act calm so Leah would not freak out even more. Alexis had walked closer to the wall and looked past it, seeing enough space to make a jump for it.
“Leah, if we just make a jump for it we'll make it out,” She said, waving her over to look at the small distance they'd have to jump. As Leah looked she felt uneasy but knew she’d had to jump or else they wouldn't make it out of the castle alive.
“Just follow what I do,” Alexis says and she stands on top of the railing and jumps around the piece of wall to the other staircase. As Leah watched she felt confident she would be able to do it, but as she was about to find her balance on the railing, the castle shook from another wall crashing down behind them, and almost fell to a flight of stairs.
“Alexis help!” she screamed in fear as she held her hands out towards Alexis to help her walk over the railing with her help. Once they finally made it, the only thing left was to run down the rest of the stairs to reach the front doors of the castle.
As they reached the main floor of the castle they were stopped by a wall of what seemed to be an air bubble. They weren't allowed to get out until the bad luck left their bodies. None of them were aware of this and they just kept pushing the door trying to get out before the whole castle collapsed on them. The closer the castle was to trapping them the amount of bad luck warned out and the tall doors opened. Both of them were full of scratches and bruises from falling and pushing the door open. They both turned around to watch the rest of the castle fall with a powerful shake to the ground.
“I can’t believe we made it out alive,” Leah said as she tried to catch her breath from all that running. “We could've died in there. Let's never do this again okay?’’ Alexis said as if the entire thing was Leah’s idea. They then walked back home in pain. Both of them knew they were going to get in trouble but it was somewhat worth it, because they got to spend time together and make new memories even if they weren't the best.
The Tale of Scarecrow Jack
By Felix Maxwell
One day 50 years ago, a group of kids around 13 to 14 years old named Chris, Daphne, Alex, and Henry were playing in a wheatfield in Oklahoma. Little did they know they would come across an unnerving discovery later that day. They were playing hide and seek when Alex leaned back to hide. While leaning back, he felt something way too hard to be wheat. As he turned around, he saw a long wooden pole. He looked up at the top of the pole.
And screamed.
Alex came running out of the field towards his friends. When the rest of the group found him, he was hiding behind a tree like he had just seen a ghost: pale, shivering, and completely covered in a snot-tear substance. When Daphne had calmed him down, she asked him what happened. Alex was shaken at first, but began to stutter, saying, “I-I was hide-hiding and I-I leaned back on a p-pole with a-a-a, human head on the top.”
Alex led them back in the field to where he first saw the head, and there it was: a very bloody, very fresh human head, which was on a wooden stake in the ground. After a long, shocked silence, Chris asked the question, “What. What do you guys think did this?”
A second later, Henry mumbled something under his breath. “What was that?” Chris asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Henry responded. “It’s just... I heard this old legend, about a man. A man named Jack. He was killed in a car accident near here a long time ago. When Jack’s cruel family got the body back, they really didn’t care that he was dead. He was still going to work in the field somehow. They just stuffed his clothes with straw and put his mangled body on a stake in the middle of their wheatfield, turning him into a scarecrow. Jack’s spirit wasn’t pleased with this, and he came back for his revenge.”
“One night, while everyone in the house was asleep, Jack struggled to get himself off of the pole. As he did, the entire stake was lifted from the earth, forcing him to hop up-and-down… up-and-down… up-and-down… to get around, like he only had one leg. After getting to the barn, he grabbed a scythe and hopped into the house. He killed his entire family by cutting off their heads. Then, he left the heads out on stakes in his field.”
“So you think that’s what happened?” Daphne asked.
“I don’t know, but I think we should tell someone about this,” Henry responded.
Later, they went to Alex’s house, which was only one block away from the wheatfield. Chris was the only one with a cell phone, and he couldn’t get any service. They sat on the couch and thought. Alex grabbed his BB gun and Henry grabbed a stick. His dad was going to be late at work, and now that it was dark, Chris, Daphne, and Henry were feeling so scared that they refused to go home, or even leave Alex’s house.
Hours later, after his friends had fallen asleep, Alex finally said, “OK, go home. Go home right now. This is all fake. There’s know way a moving scarecrow is real, so go home.” All his friends were convinced that it was real, way too terrified to leave, begging to stay. Alex gave them five more minutes to calm down. The rest of the kids agreed, and Alex set an egg timer for 5 minutes…
This time, all of the kids were asleep when Alex heard something come through the doggy door. Alex called, “Sparky, is that you?” No reply. “Sparky?” he tried again. He looked around in the pitch dark room with very tired eyes, only seeing in a blur. Daphne grabbed his leg and, in a tired voice, said, “Don’t–go. Don't–go. It’s Jack, it’s Jack…”
After pulling away, he stood up and walked around the couch full of sleeping kids to get to the door. He took a couple steps before stepping in something wet. After blinking and rubbing his eyes, his vision started to adjust, and he saw a trail of blood leading toward a decapitated head.
He screamed, “HE’S REAL!” before stumbling backward and hitting his head hard on the couch. In a daze, he looked around. Everyone was now panicking and running around. Alex focused on the head and realized something. “NO, NO, NO, WHYYYYY?!” The rest of the kids stopped to see Alex… hugging the head… of his dad! All the kids were already frightened, and now they were scared for their parents. After what felt like an hour, the door knob started to turn, but thankfully they’d already locked it, and no one dared to open it. After a few moments, it stopped shaking and they heard the sound of a stick popping up and down up and down up and down. They knew that it was not human walking because it sounded like one thing moving up and down. Alex realized and screamed out ¨it's scarecrow Jack's stake making that sound… he's outside!¨
The kids started panicking and tried to reach their parents when it started to rain. All the power was out, so there was no calling for help, or stopping their parents from losing their heads. The kids had no clue what to do. They were stuck in the house, with a killer scarecrow outside and had no way to contact help. Even if help came there would be no way they would be able to save themselves before even getting to Save the kids. They knew that there was no way that they were going to be able to leave the house without losing their heads.
The kids decided to make a plan to possibly kill Scarecrow Jack. In hopes of saving the parents they had left. Alex said “what if we sacrifice one of us and-”
“NO!!” The kids interrupted, “ No sacrifice, we will all be alive by the end of this.” “What if we distract him, then attack”. All the kids agreed and got to work. Henry and Chris made a human dummy while Alex and Daphne prepared their masterful weapon. It was Alex's BB gun with the pole of the mop attached with the sharpest knife in the house at the end like a bayonet. After the dummy was done they prepared to attack. They planned to throw the dummy out of the window and shout the demon with the gun. They counted down: three… two… one.
Henry and Chris threw the dummy out the window and immediately scarecrow Jack appeared. his scythe was raised and cut the dummy's pillow head off. One seconds later, Alex and Daphne jabbed the BB gun stick into scarecrow Jack's robe, but once they realized that he was mostly stick and straw, they knew that this method wasn’t going to work. Alex and Daphne still shot everywhere, even hitting his pumpkin once or twice, but they had their eyes closed and didn't get accurate shots, which caused them to have very bad results. Scarecrow Jack was obviously mad now. He flared his rib cage making him look like a spider. In a crash of lighting he disappeared only leaving the pillow head on a pole right in front of the shattered window. After what felt like forever every kid had lost at least one parent and more then 10 police officers lost their heads trying to save them. After another hour Henry and Chris lost their moms to Scarecrow Jack. “Those were our last relatives, ” said Daphne.
Suddenly Henry stood up and screamed “I AM DONE! I REALLY AM! I Am SO SICK OF ALL THIS! I DON’T CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO ME! I REALLY DON'T!” After that, he started for the door. Everyone tried to stop him but he pushed them away. He unlocked the door and walked out as calm as ever, like he doesn't even know he will be dead in 10 seconds. Alex ran to the door and shut it and locked it with tears in his eyes. All the kids went to the shattered window and tried to see through the fog. All they got was Henry screaming at Jack's Pumpkin, Screaming “I AM NOT Scared.” Over, and over, and over. A second later they saw Jack's Scythe go up, up, and up, Until, Swoop. Henry was shut up on the spot. All the kids were in tears. With a Crash of lightning Jack's pumpkin head turned to the kids at the shattered window.
He moved forward with every lightning strike. Crash-thump,crash-thump, crash-thump. Until he was right in front of the window. The kids were too scared to move. All they did was look right up at the giant scarecrow. It felt like hours even though it was only 3 seconds before Chris said with a stutter "lo-lo-look, his scythe. I-it it's going up."
"He's right," Daphne said. The scythe was going up and up, Just Like it did before it killed Henry. Quickly Alex said “GET DOWN!” The kids ducked and the blade went right over them and only shattered the window even more. They no longer had protection. No way to stay alive. The kids were terrified and ran out the door into the rain. A second Later a big blue bolt of lightning fell from the sky and destroyed their house. They started to run. Alex was listening very closely to see if Jack was following them, he heard crashes of lightning and the running of the now orphaned kids and the slight tap, tap, tap of wood on dirt. "He is behind us!” Daphne Screamed. Alex knew he was the fastest, and Chris was a little bit slower than Alex. But Alex was so scared for Daphne because she was the slowest. Chris heard 3 people running on the dirt and one pole. Suddenly a swish, a scream, and now he heard only 2 people and one pole. Daphne was gone. Alex felt himself moving faster and faster and faster. Until it happened again: a swish, a scream, and now he only Heard himself and Jack’s pole. Chris was gone. Alex stopped, and turned around, and saw him. The killer of his friends, his family. The destroyer of his life. He felt himself running towards the giant. As he got closer. He saw his life flash before his eyes from Age 1 to 14 all in 4 seconds. Once he snapped back to reality he saw the scythe Go up and up and up. He wanted to scream but he had no breath. He knew what was going to happen but he could not stop. He was filled with way too many emotions until everything went silent. except. for a swish.
This is a warning, because what was once a beautiful wheat Field is now a Field of Heads.
The Untouchable
By Eleanor Saunders
“Hey!” Anika shouted as boys in the neighborhood above her threw pebbles at her.
“Ah, don’t get closer,” one of the boys yelled, “You're untouchable!”
Anika always tried to ignore whenever people said things like that. When Anika finished filling her pail of water for her and her family, she looked across the street and saw the well for the higher castes. Their water fountains were much nicer. They had systems where you could lower your water pail and not have to dip it in with your hands. Their water was also much cleaner, unlike her and her neighbors water that was brownish and had dust and dirt in it. The closest drinking well was one mile away from her home. She enjoyed walking to the well because he got to pass all the homes of people in higher castes. However, she hated the walk back. It was the time of day when everyone was out of their homes farming or playing. She could feel the stares down her neck. She knew what they were thinking.
When Anika got home, she placed the water in four cups for her, her mom, her dad, and her baby brother.
“Thank you,” grunted Anika’s exhausted dad. For dinner they had a plate of wet mushy rice and a side of the dirty water Anika brought. She was sick of eating mushy rice every day, so she only ate half her meal and excused herself. Her stomach rumbled so hard she was convinced she was about to starve. Anika smelled the fresh berries in the field across the street from her home. It felt like the berries were pulling her in, like she wasn’t in control of her own body.
Anika did not go to the field much. Her parents said that it was full of ticks and mosquitoes and sometimes at night there were even leopards, yet she’d never seen any before. It was getting dark, but there was still a sliver of sun coming out behind the mountains. The field was the most peaceful place in the town in Anika’s opinion. She loved lying down in the soft patch of grass watching the tall pieces above her move with the wind. Sometimes she would close her eyes and daydream about having a great life; about being a Brahmin or even a God. If I was a God, I would treat everyone equally. No one would be an Untouchable,
Anika got interrupted by loud rustling in a bush. She swung up, her heart pounding so hard against her chest it felt like it was going to jump out of her throat. She felt the coldness creep up her body as she emerged from the grass patch. She frantically spun around looking for whatever was in the field with her. She thought about running home, but she was too scared to leave her patch of grass. Her eyes moved to the grass in front of her. It started moving again like something was coming towards her, yet the grass was too tall to see what it was.
She didn’t need to see to know exactly what it was. Something running that fast had to be a leopard. Her dad always told her if she encountered a leopard not to run or move. If she encountered a leopard, she was to play dead. She was so scared that she fell to the ground. Anika curled into a tight ball with her eyes closed, thinking of happy things like eating good food, and being on her cot at home. Anika heard the footsteps and felt something blocking the wind. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her hands together praying that everything would be okay.
“Are you okay?” a voice asked her. Anika jumped up and let out a huge breath to get her heart to stop beating so fast. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the moon was full. She thought she must have been in the field for more than an hour. Everyone was probably asleep, Anika thought. When Anika glanced back at the person who she thought was a leopard, she noticed her beautiful clothes. They were dark red and had gold fringe on the bottom. Anika felt embarrassed because she remembered she was wearing her old brown dirty clothes. Anika saw the girl's face in the moonlight and gasped.
“You’re, you’re princess Maya,” Anika muttered in confusion.
“Yep, that's me,” she replied. “Are you okay? It looked like you fainted.”
“Oh I'm fine I was just… nevermind it's not important,” Anika said. Anika realized that it was unusual that Maya was here. Her castle was miles away and it was late at night. Maya must’ve ran here. Anika was aware that she was panting hard.
“Why, why are you here instead of your castle?” Anika questioned.
“Well, I ran away,” she answered. “Is this your house,” Maya asked as she started to back away from Anika.
“No way,” Anika said accusingly, “I live over the hill.”
“Oh, okay. So you are a Vaishya?”
“Uh.. yeah,” Anika claimed. Anika knew it was wrong to lie, but all she wanted was to be treated the same. “Anyway… Why would you leave your home?” Anika asked.
“I hate being a princess. Everyone only wants to be my friend because I’m rich. I am always being pampered. I can never do anything by myself or for myself,” Maya responded. Maya sat down. Anika could tell she was tired from running and sat down with her on her grass patch. “Sometimes I wish I could just live here in the field.”
“I mean… you can stay here, in this old barn” Anika told her. Anika could tell Maya wasn’t sure at first. “I’ll bring you food everyday and blankets and a pillow. We can play games in the field whenever you want. Also, no one will find you, this place is practically abandoned.’’ By just looking at the expression on Maya's face, Anika knew the answer was yes.
Every morning until supper she would pick Maya berries for meals, and she would give her half of her food. Maya still thought that Anika lived over the hill. Every time Anika said bye and went home, she walked all the way over the hill and then sneaked back to her house when she wasn’t looking. She could never let Maya find out her secret, so she started to save up her money and try to dress better. Every day after lunch she went to a neighborhood a few blocks away and picked weeds for money. Anika knew she would be punished if Maya ever found out her secret. Every day after dinner, Maya and her would play games in the grass. They would play hide and seek and pretend they were animals who lived in the forest. It was the happiest Anika had ever been.
Thursday started like any other day. Anika saved half of her oats for Maya. Anika’s stomach growled because she hadn't eaten a full meal in days, but it was worth having a friend who saw her as everyone else. Anika could tell that Maya didn't like the soggy oats because she was used to having good food, yet she ate it.
After delivering the oats, Anika’s mom gave her a few Karshapanas and told her to get a bag of rice for dinner. After paying the shop owner, she noticed a group of townspeople crowding the newsboard and muttering. Anika’s heart almost stopped when she saw what it said: Princess Maya was kidnapped and whoever was at fault would be put in jail for life or executed.
“Oh no!” Anika thought. Her heart was beating so fast against her chest she thought she would faint. What would she do, she didn't mean to kidnap her, what would the king do to her? What would he do to her family!? Anika ran over the hill to tell Maya, tripping as she ran down the steep slope. She swung the big double doors to the barn making a loud creaking noise.
“Hi,” Maya said, sitting on a bail of hay. Anika saw the sun going down behind the hill, and she knew dinner was almost ready, and she would have to get home soon.
“You need to go back home,” Anika said.
“What, why!?”
“There are missing posters all over town. It's been almost five days and your dad misses you.” Maya looked hesitant.
“Well I don't want to go home,” Maya argued.
“Please,” Anika cried, “if your dad finds out you were staying with me, me and my family will be put in jail!” Maya looked down at the floor.
“Okay,” Maya murmured. Anika knew Maya was upset, but she couldn't risk it. As they left the barn, the sun was completely gone. All the grass was blowing to the right with all the bushes on the hill. Maya walked away from the barn with her head looking directly at her shoes.
“Wait,” Anika yelled to Maya.
“Anika, what are you doing outside? It's time for dinner,” her mom interrupted from the porch. Anika’s stomach dropped.
“Oh no,” Anika murmured under her breath. Anika glanced over at Maya.. Maya took off running. She ran through the grass and over the green hill. Anika wanted to collapse on the floor and crumble into one hundred pieces. She knew exactly why Maya ran; Maya had to have realized that Anika was untouchable when her mom called her name. Anika could picture her running home and washing her hands hundreds of times, over and over.
The next day Anika could not get out of bed. She was terrified that she would be punished, maybe even sent to prison. What would they do to her family? Anika thought. Her mom knocked on the door, making her jump.
“Time for breakfast,” her mom said in the doorway. Anika dragged herself out of bed making her way to the table.
“Why were you in the field so late at night? You know there are leopards out there,” her dad said with his mouth full.
“Um, I saw a baby rabbit,” she said unbelievably. Anika wasn't good at making up things on the spot. There was another loud knock on the door that made Anika spill water all over herself. Anika’s mom got up and opened the door.
“Hello, is there someone named Anika who lives here?” asked the voice coming from the front door. Anika walked over shakily.
“Hello?” Anika questioned even though she knew exactly why they were here.
“The king must see you immediately,” the man demanded.
“What, why?” Anika's mom asked.
“Sorry, we aren't allowed to say.” the other man replied. They made Anika sit on a bull cart and her parents weren’t allowed to come. On the ride Anika thought about jumping off the cart and running away like Maya. She knew that would just make everything worse. Anikas stomach hurt as she was riding up the hill, she couldn't stop thinking what would happen to her.
When they arrived at the castle, she slowly got off the bull cart, stalling to go inside as long as she could. Both men wrapped their arms around her to make sure she wouldn't run away. When they entered the castle she couldn't believe the detail on the walls and how high the ceiling was, it was the fanciest thing she had ever seen. They turned into a cold and dark narrow hallway lined with portraits of Maya and her family. The two men pushed open the double doors leading her to the King sitting on a golden throne. Maya was sitting next to him with her head down in regret.
“Hello Anika,” the King exclaimed. His words echoed through the room.
“Hello,” Anika answered as she gave him a stiff bow.
“My daughter informed me that you kidnapped her and lied to her,” the King shouted even though she could hear him loud enough in the huge room.
“I didn't mean to, I-”
“You must be punished,” the King interrupted Anika.
“P-please no I didn't mean to, I swear.”
“You will be sent to prison immediately.” He said. Then the two men wrapped their arms around hers and took her away. They took her to a cold dark cellar in the basement. She looked around in the room and almost everyone in the cells were untouchables; many were her old neighbors. Anika knew they wouldn't do anything bad, they were good people like her. Anika sat in the dirty and dim cellar for hours until it was almost dusk. She got woken up by the sound of the big creaky doors opening. Anika’s head swung up in fear. Maybe they’ve came to torture me, she thought. As the footsteps came closer her heart pounded. Anika let out a huge gasp as she saw the person.
“What are you doing here,” Anika whispered.
“I talked to my dad,” Maya answered. “I convinced him it was my fault. You're free to leave.” Maya said as she twisted her key into the lock. Maya walked Anika back home from the castle. As they walked over the hill to the field, Maya said, “I'm so sorry how I treated you and how everyone else treats you.”
“It's fine,” grunted Anika.
“But it's not fine,” Maya told her. “It's not okay to treat people like this, ever.” Anika nodded slightly, yet she knew that the caste system would never change. They kept walking through the field until they were in their little grass patch. “I promise that when I’m queen everyone will be equal. There will be no caste system ever again once I am in charge,” Maya said hopefully. Anika got a sudden feeling of hope. She had never been happier, all the daydreaming on her patch of grass paid off. Soon she knew there would be no more bullying, no more bad food, no more people running away when they saw her. Her dream was coming true.