Teen Talk The Young Adult Literary Newsletter Teen Talk 2000
Teen Talk November/December 2000 Flowers for Lakashime by Lisa Vermillion The girl walked down the street, her eyes seeking her reflection in the shop windows; that at least would be familiar when all else was new and strange. She took in all of the decorations for Christmas: the wreaths hung on doors, the mistletoe, Christmas trees, and fake snow (there could never be any real snow here in Monterey, California, it was much too warm). She knew that she should be grateful to be here, but all she felt was lonely. The girl walked slowly home, looking down and not making eye contact with anyone she saw on the street. She knew that they all raised their eyebrows at her brown skin in the midst of a sea of whiteness. As she neared her house, she looked up at the other houses around it. Way up. These were magnificent two and three story houses that looked beautiful decorated with lights. How she wished that she could live in one of them. But her dream abruptly ended as she came to a stop in front of her house. It wasn't even really a house. It was a small brown, dirty trailer at the very end of the street, at least a quarter mile away from the other houses, as if no one could stand being close to such a disgrace of a house. The paint was chipped and falling away from the house in some places, showing the color the trailer used to be painted - an ugly dark green. She sighed and entered the house and was greeted with chaos. "Lakashime, what are you doing coming in so late?" asked her mother in Lakashime’s native Indian tongue, yelling over a baby she was bouncing on her hip who was screaming his head off. "You have school tomorrow." "I was looking at the shops on Main Street. They're so pretty," Lakashime replied in the same Indian language. "And, Mom? Don't you think you should be practicing English for your new job?" "Yes, you are good," said her mother in broken English. "Mom, it’s ‘Yes, you are right,’ " Lakashime said. "Good, good." Lakashime rolled her eyes and headed to her room. It wasn't much to look at. It was about five feet by seven feet, with barely enough room for Lakashime to have a twin bed and a night table. The walls’ dingy flowered wallpaper was peeling off. Lakashime sighed and lay down on her bed, looking at the ceiling. Good thing she didn't have any homework tonight. Lakashime sat up and picked up the picture on the nightstand next to her bed. It showed a tall man with a black mustache grinning with his arms around his wife, Lakashime’s mother, who was holding a tiny infant in her arms. In front of the man stood a 17-year old girl smiling broadly with a dark birthmark above her wrist and herself, Lakashime, then 13, with her arms around the girl. How young I was then, Lakashime thought. I didn't want things to change. But they did anyway. I miss you so much Daddy, Lakashime thought, touching the face of the man in the picture. A tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the picture. She thought of how sad she had been when she had learned that her dad wouldn't be coming with them to America. "Sweetie, I have to stay and help our people," he had told her. "They need a doctor too much for me to come with you. I really wish I could. But don't worry, as soon as our government keeps its promise and sends another doctor into our area, I promise I’ll come over and live with you. You’re going to need to help your mother keep the baby quiet when you sneak to America," he told her. "But why do we have to sneak to America?" Lakashime had asked. "Our government doesn’t want to let anyone in or out. It’s because of the war. There are still some spies in India that are working for Pakistan and if they could get out, the Pakistanis would learn a lot about our government and maybe could take over. So people like us have to sneak away." "How are we
going to do it? Doesn’t the government put people in jail if they are caught
trying to sneak across the border?" "But why do we-" Lakashime started. "You and your mother and baby brother are going because it’s getting too dangerous here," her father stated, cutting her off. "Bombs planted in the streets, going off at any moment, guns shooting. I do not want you growing up in fear, although you have already spent too much time here in India. Besides, in America, you will get a much better education and be able to get a job. You have much better chances to make something of yourself there than here." Lakashime hadn’t known what "making something of yourself" had meant then, but she had just nodded. "You will have to be strong," her father continued. "No tears, okay? Be brave." At that, he stroked her cheek, clearing her tears away. She smiled at him. "Are you going to look for Gerti?" "Of course, I’ll never stop looking for her," Lakashime’s father told her. He had been referring to the girl in the picture, Lakashime’s lost sister, Gerti. She had disappeared suddenly shortly after the picture had been taken, about 2 years ago. No one knew what had really happened. But Lakashime and her father both thought that Gerti had been captured in the aftershocks of the Indian-Pakistan war. After 1971, when the war had occurred and India had won, Pakistan forces kept trying to come in and invade India. Gerti had been a major help to Indian forces, trying to keep the Pakistanis out. She had translated radio messages, spied, planted bombs, and other things for a year. Then, the people that worked against the Pakistanis to keep India free started disappearing. Soon after that, Pakistan leadership fell apart and the assault ended, but the Indian resistors were never recovered. Lakashime wondered if her sister had been among those to die at the hands of the Pakistanis. But, Lakashime had to be strong for her mother, who took Gerti’s disappearance very hard, even though she felt like crying most of the time, too. Lakashime put her face in her pillow. She felt the guilt of being a burden on the family, since she was 15 and couldn’t work until next year. She hadn’t felt so bad in India, because they had been fairly well off. But here in America, Lakashime and her family were practically destitute. Even the check that Lakashime’s father sent over wasn’t enough, so Lakashime’s mother had to go to work. And so, thinking about her life and problems, Lakashime fell asleep. When she woke up the next day, she first saw the light streaming in and thought she was back in India, in her room with the floor to ceiling windows. But then she woke up and saw the truth--she was in her closet-sized room with a small window near the top covered in dingy curtains that were letting some light through. Lakashime sighed, went to her closet, and put on one of the three old, shabby outfits that she owned. Lakashime and her mother had to leave everything they had in India when they sneaked away in the plane. There they had remained cramped and uncomfortable for 10 hours while the plane flew nearer and nearer to California. Lakashime had been so excited when the plane touched down. She had been awed at her first sight of a palm tree and of all the glamorous-looking people walking up and down the streets in sunglasses. Then Lakashime had gone to school. No one had been nice to her, scornful of her shabby clothing and thick accent. She also looked very different from all of them. They all had blond hair and blue eyes and were thin and she had dark hair and eyes and wasn’t fat, but wasn’t waif thin, either. Everyone stared as she went down the hall. In math class, though, Lakashime was always the best. She understood everything and learned it very quickly. She especially loved math and numbers. They made sense to her, more than anything else that was happening in her life. But one day in English class, the teacher gave an assignment that made no sense to Lakashime. "Class, this may sound like something for little kids, but you are going to write a letter to Santa Claus." Everyone booed and snickered, but Lakashime was confused. Who or what was Santa Claus? The teacher continued-"You are going to put in this letter what you want for Christmas more than anything else and why. Now this isn’t a letter to ask for stuff like Discmen or clothes, but something very important. You have until Monday." The bell rang and the students filed out. Lakashime went to her next class, wondering what Santa Claus could be. Finally, she couldn’t wonder any more and in the middle of science class, looked around for someone to ask. Unfortunately, there was no one to ask. Lakashime had no friends, everyone made fun of her and so she kept to herself. So Lakashime asked a cheerleader that sat in front of her what Santa Claus was. Big mistake. "You have got to be kidding me," the cheerleader said scornfully. "You don’t even know who Santa Claus is?" Her voice rose, attracting the attention of several students that sat nearby. They started snickering. "Duh, it’s, like the little fat man in the red suit that delivers presents to, like, all of the children of the world on Christmas Eve. You pretend to be all smart and stuff, but really, you don’t even know who Santa Claus is!" The cheerleader started to laugh hysterically. Of course, so did Lakashime’s classmates. This brought the attention of the teacher to Lakashime. "What’s going on?" he asked. No one volunteered an answer. "Since no one wants to answer, I’m going to ask what seems to be the center of all this commotion. Lakashime, what seems to be so funny?" "Nothing, sir." "It must be pretty funny if everyone’s laughing. Tell me, does the joke have to do with science? I thought not. Then it has no place in my classroom. Please, Miss Lakashime, put the answer to number twenty-six on the board." It was a particularly hard problem, and Lakashime wasn’t sure she had it correct until Mr. Rimanski grudgingly said, "Yes, that’s correct." Soon, school was over and the bus dropped Lakashime home. She went to check on her baby brother, who was playing nicely in his playpen for once and to say goodbye to her mother, who started work today. Lakashime went to her room and took out her homework. Although she had a lot of other homework, she decided that she would work on her English letter. Lakashime got out a pen and a piece of paper and started thinking. What would I want more than anything else? Well, I would like to make friends at school. Lakashime started to write that down, but stopped. Would I really like to make friends at school? They’re all so shallow. All they do is talk about boys, clothes, their hair and parties. Does their acceptance really matter to me? Not really. So what really matters to me, then? Lakashime thought very hard. Then, suddenly, she knew what she wanted to write. Flowers. That’s what I’ve always wanted. I wanted them in India, but we had no yard because there were too many people. If we had a yard, we still wouldn’t have had flowers, we would have planted food. Because that’s the way things were in India. But here, I could have flowers if we had enough money, Lakashime thought. Don’t be silly, Lakashime. What use are flowers compared with food to feed your little brother? So Lakashime dismissed the thought in her conscious mind, although it still lingered in her unconscious. She was half-finished her essay. She needed one more thing to put down. Duh, Lakashime. What about your sister? Lakashime wrote about how her sister was missing and how she’d do anything in the world to get her sister to come home for Christmas. That, even more than flowers, was what she wanted. Lakashime sighed. She knew it would never happen, though. Her sister was probably dead. And she definitely wouldn’t make it for Christmas. It was three days away. Why couldn’t I have stayed in India to look for her? Maybe she’s in a prison somewhere, dying, wishing that someone would come and rescue her. Lakashime put her hands over her head and imagined her sister’s wasted body on the floor of a cold, dark prison, too weak for her to even stand. Lakashime! she cried. Then she fell still. Lakashime cried but finally drifted off into sleep. The next day, since Lakashime hadn’t finished her homework, she had to do it in first period. So she didn’t really hear her social studies teacher tell the class about acid burn victims in India. "Women in India don’t have the same rights as women in America do. They are treated as property, maybe a little bit higher than a cow," Mr. Lamont, the social studies teacher said as Lakashime scribbled away on her homework, not hearing a word. The class laughed, but Mr. Lamont didn’t. "It’s no laughing matter. Since these men see women as property, they feel they have the right to do horrible things to them. For instance, there are some men that throw corrosive acid into a woman’s face because she rejects him. The acid eats into the skin, horribly disfiguring the victim for the rest of her life. Some women lose their eyesight or hearing. Most of the men that throw the acid don’t get caught and even if they do, they don’t get convicted. Can you imagine that? Being disfigured just because you didn’t want to marry someone? And because of this, some burn victims will be coming to this school." There was a murmur of interest among the students. "The Monterey General Hospital has decided to sponsor corrective surgery for some of these burn victims. Now, they will have different customs and may look very strange because of the effects of the acid, but remember what they’ve been through. I don’t want any whispers or pointing or laughing. Anyone that does this will be dealt with extremely severely. Understood?" asked Mr. Lamont. The class nodded. Lakashime was still scribbling away, trying to finish her math homework. "When will they be arriving?" asked a blond boy. "Probably the day after tomorrow," said Mr. Lamont. The bell rang. "Okay, read chapter six on India’s burn victims for tomorrow’s quiz," he shouted over the students. Lakashime was also getting her things together, but had unfortunately missed the whole conversation. She had, though, finished her homework. The next day was frantic for Lakashime. The teachers seemed to be plotting against the students so they could have a nervous breakdown. Lakashime had had quizzes in almost every class that day and even a test in one class, all, of course, unannounced. When Lakashime got home, she rocked her baby brother to sleep, did her homework and fell into bed. She didn’t even have enough time to remember that the next day was Christmas Eve. When her alarm woke Lakashime up in the morning, her eyelids felt like lead and she just felt like falling back into bed. But she got up an got dressed and got on the bus and went to school. Lakashime was having a hard time staying awake in first period. But then, a line of girls came in. They were all horribly disfigured. "These are the burn victims that I was telling you about," said Mr. Lamont. They are going to our school until their surgery is finished, which may take a long time. I’m going to introduce you to them. This is Kalisi, she is from..." As Lakishime listened to each story, she found herself relating to these girls. They had had lives like hers; they knew what India was about. Some were as young as twelve and some were twenty. Mr. Lamont got down to the girl at the end of the line. Of all the girls in the line, she was probably the most disfigured. Her skin had a heavy wrinkled look to it, from where the acid had gone deep. Her eyelid drooped over her eye and she was bald from her forehead to the center of the top of her head. She looked down the whole time Mr. Lamont was explaining where she came from and what had happened to her. But Lakashime wasn’t listening to him; she was staring at the girl. But then she tuned in again. "...she tells us that she has a family back in India, but she hasn’t seen them in two years. She has a younger sister and brother and her father was a doctor..." WHAT? Lakashime thought. That sounds almost like... but no, it couldn’t be. She looked closer at the girl. She stared at the girl’s arm. For there, right above her wrist, was a dark birthmark. "Gerti?" Lakashime whispered. Apparently the girl standing next to Mr. Lamont heard something, because she looked up then and surveyed the class. When her eyes came to rest on Lakashime, her hands went to her mouth. "Lakashime?" the girl whispered, her eyes wide. Everyone in the class became quiet, twisting around to look at Lakashime. But she was out of her seat, running to hug her sister, her long-lost sister, Gerti. Gerti ran toward her too and they met and hugged each other, crying. "Gerti, Gerti,
I thought you were dead!" cried Lakashime, her arms around her sister’s
neck. "I didn’t know what happened to you!" "I’m afraid to go in," said Gerti. "What if she doesn’t know me? What if I’m too ugly for her to love me? Look at my face!" She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. "Come on, Gerti, it will be okay," said Lakashime, protectively holding her sister. Lakashime rang the doorbell. Fortunately, her mother was home, not having gone to work yet. Lakashime’s mother opened the door, annoyed at being interrupted from taking care of Lakashime’s little brother, who was wailing his head off. "Lakashime, what-" Lakashime’s mother cut off. "Gerti?" she cried. Gerti and her mother hugged and kissed each other. "I knew you alive, I never stop hoping," said Lakashime’s tearful mother. "But what--how--" asked their mother weakly. "It’s a long story," said Gerti. "We’ll have to sit down while I tell it." They all sat and Gerti told her horrible story. Gerti explained that on the day that she disappeared, a man named Rufus had declared his love for her. "So it had nothing to do with the war?" Lakashime asked. "No, the old grocer told me he loved me, but I knew that he already had a wife. He was rich, but too old. Plus, I would marry him and be the ‘second wife’? I didn’t want that kind of life, so I said no," said Gerti. "He told me I would be sorry, but I dismissed it. On my way home, someone grabbed me from behind and shoved me into an alley. They took off my head covering and poured acid in my face. I’m sure it was the grocer, or someone he hired. They just left me there in the street to die. Luckily, someone found me and brought me to the hospital. They nursed me back to health, but I lost my eye," said Gerti, pointing tearfully at her drooping eyelid. "And my face looks like this! I hate him for what he did to me!" At this, Gerti started crying. "Shh, shh," said her mom, taking her into her arms. "Much pain, but be better if tell us." "Okay," said Gerti, wiping her face. "During my recovery, some people from NBC came into the hospital and asked for all of the acid burn victims. They told us that they would try to bring the men to justice and then try to get us reconstructive surgery, but it would take a while for them to get clearance. So we had to go into hiding. They wanted to take no chances that the men that had thrown acid into our faces would come back once they realized what NBC was doing. That meant that I couldn’t contact you, either. I missed you so much during that time, but otherwise, it wasn’t bad, those two years that it took for NBC to be cleared. All of us girls became great friends and loved each other like sisters. Then, I came here and Lakashime saw me. I’m sure you didn’t recognize me at first," said Gerti to Lakashime. "No, but-" said Lakashime. "How could you with me looking like this?" cried Gerti. "You may look different on the outside, but you’re the same on the inside, and that’s what matters," said Lakashime quietly. "You’re right," said Gerti after a while. "Sorry, Gerti," said their mother. "It’s okay, Mom, it wasn’t your fault," said Gerti. "But I’m going to bed now, okay?" "You’re right, it’s really late. But tomorrow’s Christmas," Lakashime said with a smile. That night, Lakashime and Gerti slept together in the same bed. They whispered and giggled all night, but finally fell asleep. Lakashime woke up suddenly the next day while it was still dark. "Wake up, Gerti! It’s Christmas!" she said, shaking her sister awake. They ran out of the room and went to wake their mother. "Mom, wake up! It’s Christmas!" Their mother grumbled something about it being "very early," but the girls didn’t care. It was their first Christmas! "Wait, have to go outside, check how warm," said their mom. She went out and there was a scream. "Gerti! Lakashime!" she shouted. The girls ran outside and stared. For there, growing in the windowsill box, were the beginnings of some flowers. "But how did they get there? They weren’t there yesterday!" asked Gerti in astonishment. "I know-it miracle!" said their mother. "Look, Lakashime, very pretty!" But Lakashime didn’t hear. She was too busy looking and examining every tiny flower bud, every petal. "They’re so perfect," she breathed. "It your responsibility from now on take care them," said Lakashime’s mother brokenly. "I will, I promise." As Lakashime, her baby brother, newly found sister and mother went inside to open their few presents, they were happier than if they had had a mountainfull. And as they ate Christmas dinner together (it was very small, but satisfying), they laughed and joked together as if they had never been apart. Lakashime wondered from that day on how those flowers had turned up in her box. It wasn’t really a miracle-the last owner of the trailer had planted daisies before they sold it and they hadn’t come up. Why? They were winter daisies, and they happened to come up on December 25, just for Lakashime. But to Lakashime, this would always be of great mystery to her. Even better was the return of her long-lost sister, which was even more of a miracle. How had they ended up in the same school at the same time? If Lakashime had even had second period with Mr. Lamont, maybe she would have never seen her sister again. But Christmas wishes work in mysterious ways. Then, maybe, just maybe, Christmas dreams really do come true. Censorship by Rose
Alone in a room With no way out No one to talk to And no one to help Locked up Because of something I said? What do they expect, I’m a teenager I say what goes through my head. So what? So I said I don’t believe your god? So what? That I said, I don’t like your laws? I don’t agree with you So of course you must Immediately criticize my views I opened my mouth And truth fell out So now I am alone In a room All by myself I can’t say anything You’ve covered my mouth. Don’t Step On My Soul by Anonymous
Each night, you draw me into your darkness make me forget the life I believe in you make me think that everything is darkness and there is no other way.
You all say you are condemned because you’re different I say you are all the same. they’ve taught you to believe nothing, to see no light. If your life is hopeless it is because you do not know hope is there.
You blame me because I smile. My life, like yours, is not all smiles- but I smile because it is the right thing to do. I have plans--I have hopes--I have dreams. I have a soul, and what’s more, I know it. I don’t talk about drowning it, or smothering it, or slitting its wrists.
I believe that there is a God out there, and there are reasons for being a good person.
I believe you should believe whatever you want. I don’t believe I should tell you to believe what I do. I believe you should extend the same courtesy to me.
I don’t condemn you--I applaud you, for thinking outside the lines, for exploring the horizons.
I make choices, as you do.
Don’t step on my soul because you assume I’ll step on yours.
Don’t be so quick to damn me because those who came before me damned those who came before you. I do not bear their guilt or shame. I did not commit their crimes; I will not suffer their punishment.
I do not care who you are, or what you believe. Show me good cause, and I will go to the end of the earth and back for you.
My loyalty isn’t given lightly, but once you have it you don’t lose it--even if I should even lose yours.
The world is not a pit of darkness; do not ridicule me because where you see shadows, I see light; where I find hope, you see only despair.
Say what you like to me, if I agree, I will help you; if I disagree, I will not confront you. Do what you like,
Just don’t step on my soul.
Teen Talk September/October 2000 See Teen Writing Contest Winners 2000
Join the Club by Evelyn Duffy For those who didn’t get flowers, For those who stood by the wall, For those who waited all night by the phone, Knowing he wouldn’t call.
For those who didn’t get chocolates, For those who weren’t a "nice sight", For those who didn’t see anyone, And had only the hope that they might.
For those who knew they were too young, For those who felt too old, For those who would have dared it, But just couldn’t be that bold.
My thoughts go out to you tonight, You who say nothing’s wrong when really nothing’s right. I can give nothing, no great words of advice, Except to say that all this night, I pay the same price. Fallen Savior
by Frank Cerione
Hearts still bleed as they swim in their blood the blood of fallen saviors searching for their own souls grasping at the purple haze at music flung from the heavens Learning the truth, the motivation of his people The hopeless loneliness in knowing it’s him that needs saving. My Little Girl by Chantele Serrano My little girl rubbed a lamp and a genie appeared before her eyes. My little girl was in shock and could not believe her eyes. The genie saw my little girl and said, "Whosoever rubbed my lamp shall have three wishes." My little girl replied, " ‘Tis I who rubbed your lamp." The genie said, "You, my dear, may have any three wishes." My little girl replied, "Just three? I have so many. I have to have more than three." The genie said, "I only give more than three wishes to children who suffer from a disease." My little girl replied, "I have a deadly disease called cancer." The genie
said, "Very well. Tell me how many wishes you want and I shall grant you
those wishes." The genie said, "Perhaps we should lay some ground rules. I can’t save you, kill anyone and I can’t heal you." My little girl replied, "Then who can accomplish these jobs?" The genie said, "Who else but the Trinity." My little girl replied, "Who are they and where are their lamps?" The genie
said, "The Trinity is the Father, which is God, the Son, which is Jesus,
and the Holy Spirit. They don’t live in lamps; they live all around us. They
are the reason why we live." The genie replied, "Receive Jesus in your heart and you shall be healed." My little girl said, "Yes, I need that." The genie said, "Repeat after me. 'Lord, I ask you to come in my heart and take out everything that doesn’t belong. Please help me through this difficult time in my life. In the name of Jesus, I ask of Thee, Amen.' " My little girl repeated every word. When she awoke from this dream, she found herself in a very different place. My little girl said, "Where am I?" in amazement. An angel replied, "You’re in heaven." My little girl asked, "Where the Trinity’s home base is?" The angel said, "Yes." My little girl started to weep and said, "That means I’m dead and the genie lied." The angel replied, "You’re dead, but the genie wasn’t a genie. It was Jesus in the form of a genie. It’s the only person that he thought you would trust. Jesus was correct. You did trust him." My little girl said, "But I thought that my prayer would heal me." The angel said, "It did." My little girl stated, "But I don’t understand." The angel said, "Not only were you healed, but your soul was also saved. Now you have eternal life in a new body that’s not sick." My little girl wept with happiness and said, "Then thank you, Jesus, for everything." Popular, You Think! by Gabrielle Maglione
I hate this! That’s good, cuz I hate you! Go away. Can’t you see that I’m not going to be sucked into the orbit of your immense head? Why do you look at me with that glare, and the comments you make to your friends, and think that I care? I’m not part of your circle, where any wrong comment made wounds to the quick. I will not let you wound me like you have been wounded. I will not give you the power to destroy me, that you have given others to destroy you. You don’t matter to me because I’m weird, and crazy, and not quite popular. Because I have real friends and a real personality. And yet you’re so popular, you think The Cutter by Rose
Drip drip drip. Scarlet red on gleaming silver Drip, drip, drip. Soft flesh, starts to tear. It brings tears to her eyes. As she watches herself bleed But she doesn’t care ‘Cause she thinks that’s what she needs Then she cuts herself again. Little silver razor Gleaming in the bathroom light Covered in her blood And she thinks she’s all right. Drip, drip, drip Scarlet red on now dull silver Drip, drip, drip She can’t stop. That little silver blade Is now dull from use And her arms are Full of scars From her self-inflicted abuse. The pain in her arms Drives away The pain in her heart While she loses more of herself With each little cut. Drip, drip, drip Go her salt-water tears Mixing with her blood For so many years. Wings of Fire
by Evelyn Duffy
The falcons fly on with golden-feather wings To wake me, to call me, pink paper tissues Falling in the wind.
Soar, touch the sky, disappear, Leave only empty skies and fast Flying memories in your regal wake. Trash by Rose
Look into me Touch my soul While I cry. Say you love me now And then a month later Just say good-bye. Take the pieces of my heart With you Because I can’t Take the time to heal. Too many times I’ve healed myself Only to be broken again While people laugh And think I’m crazy Because I try too much. But no more will I be subject To being hurt So take away the pieces Of my heart And just throw them away. How do I love thee? Let me break it down I love thee more than Any love around
With a love that is there like on a wedding day And with the type of love that’d never go away.
I love thee freely with a love that doesn’t stop I love thee purely With every single drop
of blood that flows through my veins and pumps in my heart with a special kind of love that’s impossible to part
I love thee while I sleep And as I wake up at dawn And I shall continue to love thee, Baby, even when I’m gone.
by Allendre Lindor A Common Misconception by Mark J. DeSantis Dedicated to: Helen Cowan, a blushing bride In the months before She thinks it’s a wedding In the month of She thinks it’s a wedding. In the week of She thinks it’s a wedding. In the day of She knows it’s a wedding. In the months before He thinks it’s a wedding. In the month of He thinks it’s a wedding. In the week of He thinks it’s a wedding. In the day of He knows it’s a funeral. The Uninvited by Lisa Vermillion They came from the sky across billions of miles of the galaxy. We had no idea how they found out about us, but somehow they knew that we were here. They were almost exactly like us: oxygen-breathing, omnivorous, and technologically advanced. Only they were far more advanced than we were. The year was 2144. Everyone was happy. People were going through their lives, marveling with each new invention how smart they were. How often pride comes before a fall! We were on our way to paradise. If we could conquer the physical world, maybe we could conquer some of our social and political problems. We thought we were invincible, masters of the universe. We thought our wisdom was unparalleled. How wrong we were. The year 2144 was a happy year. Until they came. There was no warning. Hundreds of thousands of ships entered our atmosphere at once and touched down in the middle of all of our biggest cities. The aliens destroyed almost every building, except the very few that suited their purposes. They killed most of the population, about seven-eighths. Those that were lucky enough to get out early, the remaining one-eighth, were slowly and steadily being destroyed by their search parties. The aliens were light-years ahead of us in technology and we had no hope of destroying them. They didn’t want peace. Apparently, they had completely destroyed their planet and were in search of another. Unfortunately, ours was a perfect match--it had an atmosphere of oxygen and it contained water and plant and animal life. Our only chance was to run and hide. Maybe, by surviving, we could one day conquer the invaders and take back our planet. Falana stopped writing in her diary. She looked up at the huge tree she was leaning against. It was so peaceful, just standing there, waving in the wind. Peaceful-the exact opposite of how Falana had felt these past few months. FLASH! Falana was standing in the kitchen, making dinner for her husband, Robert, and her three kids, Stella, Joei and Marie. Robert and the three kids sat in front of the holoscreen. Robert was punching figures into the data analyzer to calculate exactly how much it would cost for an addition on the house. Sixteen-year old Stella was doing calculus homework, 10-year old Joei was playing a video game, and three-year old Marie was playing on the floor. Then the announcement came. Five high-pitched, earsplitting beeps came from the holoscreen, signaling an emergency. The announcer told them the horrible news. "Hostile alien ships have landed," the announcer said. "I repeat, dangerous and technologically advanced alien ships have landed." FLASH! Falana shook her head to clear it. She had been having a flashback. Pull yourself, together, Falana! she told herself mentally. You can’t afford to go to pieces. But Falana couldn’t seem to shake herself out of the horrible memories of the night the invaders had come. Her brain just wouldn’t stop showing her the images. Falana closed her eyes and allowed herself to remember. Her family had taken the hovercar up to the mountains, trusting in the message, which certainly had seemed real enough. While traveling up the mountain, they had run out of material to put in the fusion engine. They had abandoned the car and then walked up the mountain. Falana had put Marie in a backpack and carried her up the mountain. They had finally reached the forest, where they pitched an Insta-Houseü. It was crude, but much better than their old tent. Falana, Robert, and the kids had eaten in silence and then went to bed. That night, Falana remembered wondering if the message on the holoscreen had been a ruse. She knew that not everyone had gone. Her next-door neighbors had refused to leave; saying it was all "poppycock." "Falana!" Robert yelled. Falana jerked out of her dreamy state. Robert came over. "I’ve been calling you for the past few minutes. Where were you?" "I was--" Falana paused. "Remembering." Robert’s eyes looked sad. "I know," he said. "It’s been hard on all of us." He patted her back. "I just wanted to tell you that dinner’s ready, if you are. The kids are already eating." "Thanks." Falana followed Robert. She walked over to the makeshift table, where everyone was eating. As Falana sat down, she glanced at the aluminum plate set in front of her. Its silvery color reminded her of... FLASH! BOOM! BOOM! RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE. Falana woke suddenly. "What was that?" Robert asked, almost hitting his head on the low ceiling of the Insta-Houseü. Marie was crying in the next room. "I have no idea. We should look, though," Falana said. She went into the next room, picked Marie up, and tried to soothe her. Stella and Joei followed her outside into the moonlit night. "What was that?" Stella asked. No one answered. Falana went outside, still holding the wailing Marie. She stopped dead at the sight of Robert. He was staring down at the town with his mouth open. "What is it, Robert?" Falana asked. He just pointed down, towards the town. Falana looked and gasped in disbelief. There it stood, an alien spaceship. The ship was absolutely enormous; Falana could see it clearly even from 50 miles above. The source of the sound was obvious; it had been the spaceship’s thrusters firing. The alien spacecraft towered over the town Falana and her family had just left. The buildings under it were crushed and the ones near it were scorched from the thrusters. The spacecraft was about 50 stories high and 50 football fields long. The silvery color of the spacecraft glinted in the moonlight. It was shaped like a flattened sphere. This is only one of many ships? Falana asked herself, remembering the holoscreen news cast. She didn’t see any imperfections on the ship or seams where the material that made up the ship was joined together. As the family watched, the spaceship opened. Falana didn’t see what came out, she was too far up, but she knew it was the aliens. There was silence as Falana and her family held their breath to see what the aliens would do. As Falana watched, a kind of wave was extended from the ship. It was silvery and looked a bit like water, but was compressional. The wave spread out from the spaceship in all directions. When the wave moved over something, it disappeared. It wasn’t blown up or compacted, it simply disappeared. Falana was amazed and terrified at this new revelation of the aliens’ power. The trees about a mile up on the mountain were all gone. Fortunately, the weapon didn’t go up as far as it went out. Falana stared in startled silence as the wave finished its work and contracted back to the ship. Where a once-beautiful town had stood there was now... nothing. Nothing was left standing. There was still the grass, lakes and ocean, but there were no buildings. And no people! Falana thought in horror. They had all been...disintegrated by the wave-weapon. FLASH! "Are you sure you’re all right?" Robert asked Falana, patting her on the arm. His movement made her jump and jerked her out of her flashback. "Yes, sorry," she replied. "Just a little zoned out." Another flashback! God, Falana, you’re losing it! Falana said to herself. She finished dinner in silence. It was a tradition that every night, they listened to the radio. A certain station was broadcast by some of the people that survived the alien attack. They talked of the aliens’ plans and kept the people updated on what to do. It was from the radio that Falana and her family had discovered more about the aliens. They had also found out about the aliens’ search parties. It seemed that the aliens weren’t content with having seven-eighths of the population dead; they wanted the entire planet to themselves. So they would occasionally go on searches to destroy any people they found. Their weaponry was extremely advanced and once they found you, there was no hope of escape. There was no hope of defense, either. Falana prayed every night that the searches wouldn’t find her and her family. After they had listened to the end of the pirate radio broadcast, Falana and her family went to bed in the Insta-Houseü. After what seemed like a million years, Falana finally fell asleep. Again, she was awakened in the night. First, she thought she was dreaming or having another flashback, but she realized she wasn’t. What had awoken her? Wait, there it was again! An intensely bright light swept over the tent. Falana went outside without waking Robert and looked up at the starry sky. Hovering 500 feet above the tops of the trees was an alien search ship. Falana knew its smooth, streamlined, three-pronged design from the description in the radio broadcasts. Somehow they had found her and her family! We’ve got to get out of here! Falana thought. She ran inside, woke her family, and told everyone to be quiet. "The search ships are right above our tent. I think they know we’re here, but don’t know exactly where," Falana told her kids and Robert in a barely audible whisper. "We have to move away as quickly as possible. The slightest sound could give us away; they have super-sensitive equipment up there." Everyone’s eyes were wide with fear as they looked at her in scared silence. The family slipped out of the house and ran deeper into the forest. The night was clear and cold. Falana could see her breath in front of her. Behind the family, the sound of the vessel landing and opening could be heard. There was a whoosh sound that Falana assumed meant that the aliens were sending a smaller, more agile ship after them. The blue and red searchlights behind them from the alien ship lit up the forest and made the night look as alien as the unknown being that was chasing them. "Hurry!" Falana whispered. They ran deeper and deeper into the woods. Too late Falana saw the trap. The alien had put up a circular fence to trap them in. Its sides were vertical and at least 20 feet tall. The only way out was to go back, towards danger, but Falana was about to try it when the alien came into the clearing. Everyone gasped. None of them had ever seen an alien before. He got out of his small ship and stood up. He was about six feet tall and very thin. He had brown hair and two light blue eyes, like the ocean. His skin was smooth, a peach color. He looked just as scared as Falana felt. He stared at Falana and her family for a long time. Falana thought of what he must think she and her family looked like--short and compact, with four red eyes spaced evenly around her head, orange bumpy skin, short blue hair, and eight fingers on each hand. Falana and her family cowered on the ground. The alien had a familiar look on his unfamiliar face, one of contempt. He raised the gun he was holding and pointed it at Falana. "NO!" shouted Robert. Staring at the alien’s eyes, Falana thought she understood their race. "They are parasites, using anything around them until it is exhausted, and then they move on," Falana said. "They are also afraid of anything different, Robert. They fear it, and destroy it if they cannot understand it. That will be their downfall." The human fired his gun. Falana fell to the ground.
Him Who I Loved by Gabrielle Maglione
We used to be lovers And then the best of friends But something happened And now you’re with her The girl I despise She’s a bitch, a prep, and a whore But you’d rather be with her Than me anymore You were a great guy But now you’re just like your friend You’re whipped, you’re a caver You’ll do anything she says And as I once loved you And still maybe do Added to that, I pity you, too I thought you were stronger But I guess I was wrong Cuz now the guy who I once knew is gone So now I say goodbye to him who I loved And wish him good luck And hope he will overcome. Madness by Frank Cerione
Breathe, child sing, Live Scold, Burn, Child Run Fly, Die child Fag Live, Breathe, child hate Live fag, Die queer, fly escape, Death escape is death run child, live to die fly escape Madness Slow by Gabrielle Maglione
Why do people move so slow? Trudging along unendingly Like their lives are going nowhere Like it’s not worth anything to move a little faster Like their destination is not one worth reaching Do they ever consider that maybe it’s their fault that nothing really matters in their lives? Will they ever realize that they hold me back, walking in a constant wall across my path? But then I break through and continue on in my purposeful stride towards life. And they blame me for breaking through their lives in my haste. But it’s all really because they’re moving so… SLOW! The Dance by Frank Cerione
Last minute silence awaiting that touch from beyond his breath yearning so much the pain of love spoke in the vain of mourn drowning in tears of fearful hope fears of the truth of the loss a dream deferred by a handshake as his sweat-drenched palms scream of lost love Watching him dance as tears fade into the night Religious Man by Frank Cerione
Held in light, pierced by hate traversed sodomized raped by the holy perfection your hate keeps me sane A Future written and illustrated by Mark J. DeSantis
Scratch away the past
Like a dog scratches fleas
Because we know it won't last. Just like the fleas. They die when Mom buys the collar.
And Sparky smiles.
Because he hears them holler.
Yez, Sparky smiles.
Why?
Because he knows there's a future. With more fleas That he can bite and torture
Yez, more fleas. North Star by Lisa Vermillion Heather ran up to her room, sobbing. She slammed the door and locked it. Then she flung herself on her bed. She beat the bed with her fists and kicked and screamed. "Why? Why? Why?" she cried. After about 30 minutes of hysterics, when there were no more tears left, Heather rolled over on her bed and looked up at the ceiling. It was decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. In fact, her curtains imitated a clear, blue sky with puffy cumulus clouds floating around and her bedspread was dark blue with silver stars scattered across it. Just seeing her room with everything of the sky made Heather think of her father, the one who had sparked her interest in astronomy, aliens, and anything else that was remotely related to the sky. Tears streamed down her face as she thought of his warm, kind smile and the beard that tickled her face when he kissed her. She remembered when he had taught her where the stars were, especially the North Star. That had been her favorite. "Why, Daddy, why? Why did you leave me?" Heather asked out loud, starting to cry again. He had been setting up a new telescope on the roof to see the stars with and he had slipped and fallen. She had run outside when she heard a thump and found him outside, crumpled beside the ladder. "Daddy!" Heather had screamed. She ran over to him, shaking him, saying, "Daddy, please wake up, wake up now!" Then it was a fog, a blur until the waiting room outside of the hospital. The doctor had come out of the room, silent, solemn. Heather had known, deep inside, in that moment, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. "I’m sorry," the doctor had said. "There was nothing I could do. He broke his neck in two places and ..." But Heather hadn’t heard the rest because she was running, running away from that house of death that held her father prisoner. Forever! Forever! Forever! It repeated over and over in her head. Heather had run blindly, barely knowing where she was going. She ran and ran and then she stopped. Heather had looked up. She was at the house. She had run into her room and that’s where she was now. Never to see her father again, hear his voice, never to hug him again or kiss him. Never! Never ever! Heather cried until the blackness of sleep took her. ***** 20 years later...
Everyone stared at the piece of machinery that had taken three years and almost two billion dollars to complete. "She’s a beauty, ain’t she?" asked Dr. Samuel Turner, a college professor of astronomy at the University of Toronto. "She sure is," replied Dr. Alexander Green, vice president of ETA, a company that dealt with extraterrestrial radio signals. "But what is it?" asked a grad student that was studying to be an astronomer. "That," replied Dr. Heather Malunci, head of extraterrestrial intelligence, "is a radio telescope. Cutting edge technology, the best a bunch of scientists could possibly think up." "But what’s it do?" asked the grad student. "It picks up radio signals from space. Only it can pick them up farther than anything that’s ever been built, all the way to Alpha Centauri and beyond," replied Dr. Malunci. "A great piece of machinery." "And also a very expensive piece of machinery," said a voice from behind the group. Heather didn’t even have to turn around to see who it was because she recognized the voice, after hearing it so many times. But she turned around anyway to see Dr. Ryan Selen, head of the science department approaching her. "Dr. Malunci, you have spent too much on this little project-" began Dr. Selen, but Heather interrupted. "Dr. Selen, this project could turn out to be the greatest discovery mankind has ever seen." "Two billion dollars for a machine for listening for aliens? It’s a waste!" exclaimed Dr. Selen. "We’ll see." "No, we won’t. This project will be shut down in a month. You have gone way over budget. This machine has ended up costing over $50 million more than you originally proposed!" "You can’t do that!" cried Heather. "Watch me," replied Dr. Selen. As he walked out the door, he said, "One month, Heather!" Then he was gone. Heather was stunned. For a minute, she was silent. Then she waved everyone away that suddenly was asking questions that she couldn’t answer. After they left, she sat down, rubbing her temples. She had a horrible headache. She had been getting them under stress ever since her father had died. Heather stared at the machine that she had spent five years trying to convince the government to build. All that time, money gone in a month. Might as well try to work it, she thought to herself. After all, I won’t have much time to use it. Damn you, Ryan! Heather walked over to the machine and turned it on. It started to hum merrily, as if it didn’t know that in a month’s time it would be dismantled and used for scrap metal. Try to think positively, Heather told herself. She got into the little seat in the heart of the machine and started to work the controls. After three hours in the seat, Heather’s rear was starting to hurt and her patience was running out. She had heard nothing, but that was to be expected. The part that was annoying was that it would take years to look through all the sky. And she only had a month! Her frustration was beginning to build, but then she thought of her father. He had told her that she had a fiery temper, just like him, and she had to learn how to keep it in control. Count to ten, he had told her. I know everyone says that, but it works, he had said. Heather counted to ten and when she was done, she did feel a little better. I wish you could help me, Heather thought, talking to her father inside her head. But, of course, he was silent. Then she remembered one night on the roof when he had shown her the North Star. "It’s my favorite," he had said, "because it’s so bright and beautiful." And then, immediately, it had become Heather’s favorite too. Well, why not, Heather asked herself as she punched in the coordinates for the North Star. The machine turned and stopped. Nothing. Oh well, she thought to herself, and was about to turn to another star, when the headphones gave off a little sound. Heather stopped and listened for a minute, but it was gone. Must’ve been my imagination, she thought, and was about to turn again to another star, but then, there it was again. She stopped and this time the noise didn’t stop. It grew louder and louder. Heather quickly cross-checked it with other radio signals. Nope, it definitely wasn’t from Earth. The radio signal was actually coming from space! Her first big discovery! This one’s for you, Dad, she thought to herself. Never Taken by H. Jason Patterson III A friend in the past, taken from us though he will still be our friend tomorrow. We shed our tears of sorrow, even though you've gone on to a better place. Our tears flow like the streams, because we'll miss your voice, your music, and your laughter. You've played a role in many lives. Some roles were small, others large, but none could be replaced. Save us a seat where you are for we shall visit in time, to gaze upon a smile that will never be forgotten. You have been taken from our eyes too early, but you will never be taken from our hearts.
John by Jennifer Rose Confalone
Ashes to Ashes Dust to dust You have meant So much to us. Because you’re gone We cannot see, What a wonderful difference You would have made. Ashes to ashes Dust to dust Why did you go Far away from us? It’s not fair that you have gone We wish you could have stayed.... We all miss you, John. These poems were written in loving memory of John Giunta. Skyfire by Shana Sirawatka The moon loomed in the sky over the small village. Everything was quiet and asleep. The hoof beats of the sleek, black war steed whispered in the night. On the horse rode a fiery elfin witch dressed in dark leather. A sword in her left hand, Briella rode into the village with a lit torch in her right. Standing grim in the center of the village, she looked around at the sleeping houses, their wooden eyes closed tightly for the night. Taking a deep breath of the musty air, Briella shouted out her war cry into the night, throwing the torch high into the air. A clamor of hoof beats accompanied by the rush of many footmen flooded the town, each man with a lit torch. Ringing throughout the town were the screams of hundreds of once sleeping villagers. Children, women and men rushed out of doors and windows, fleeing this way and that, most burning and withering before even making it to the gates. The village guards started with water, putting out fire best they could and pulling people out of them. Briella sat smugly on her horse. A small child dressed in tattered nightclothes ran blindly, crying for parents that were probably already dead. Briella looked down at it as if, for a single moment, she felt compassion for someone other than herself, but the moment was short lived. Smiling, she snatched a torch from a nearby footman and hurled it at the child. Laughing haughtily as she watched it die, Briella turned her horse around and rode off, never looking back. I watched from the woods outside my village, hoping not to be seen. She stopped for a moment and listened, and I was sure I had been discovered, but not more than a minute later, she rode off again. Returning to my village, I sneaked in, careful not to be spotted by any of the footmen, those remaining. The horsemen had left, as had many of the footmen, but safety first. If I were seen, I would most likely be killed on sight. Walking along and looking around at the snickering footmen and the pillaged ruins of my village, I noticed a small body lying in the square. Looking down, I realized it was my own son. I dropped to my knees over the burnt body of my youngest child, and as the stench of death pervaded my every thought, I wept for him and hoped the elfin witch would burn the same way she burnt my little boy.
Montgomery Marcher by Evelyn M. Duffy Before his flag he stands tall and proud and free.
His eyes are closed, his chin lifted high, his shoulders flung back. He seems to soar above the masses. Above his head, waving gently in the breeze of a reminder, Of sacrifice, liberty, and love, The flag of future unity of millions is bright in the morning sun. Others, marching by his side, have worry and fear written into their faces. He alone seems to know, seems to trust, that victory is near. Around him, the fury runs deep, he alone is at peace. He is strong, he is brave, but he is nameless to history. I would call him America. He is the first to breathe in the fresh air of reclaimed freedom. He will never be the last… America. Self-Loathing by Nichole M. Dwight Somewhere it’s all gone wrong No one can hear my cries Don’t push me away You are my last hope The rage is manifesting and building No one can stop it The blackness is surrounding me. The sounds of joy and happiness have turned into screams of agony and hatred. I’m starting to self-destruct and you’re not here to pick up the pieces. Save me now. For the dawn is coming and I am fading. Piece by piece, I am diminishing into a pool of pity and self-loathing. My One True Love by Anonymous, age 17 In a place far away where dreams became reality, where fantasies can be lived out, I find my true love waiting for me. In reality, he's far away and I long to hold him, but when I close my eyes he's there with me. There in the background of the early morning sunrise stands a tall, dark, handsome yet mysterious man. Nobody knows much about him, but he's all around known as kindhearted and gentle-spirited. Yes, even though I long to hold him he seems so distant. I keep hoping that he will come but he never does appear. Even though he's in my imagination he still seems real to me. So in the midst of all the stars and moon my true love speaks the words I've been waiting to hear. He takes my hand ever so gently and he whispers "I love you." I know these words are true but I can't believe it's happening. Then I realize it was just a dream, I hear a noise behind me. I turn and he's standing there, he smiles & I smile back. He takes my hand and then whispers, "I love you." This shows if you believe, your dreams will come true.
Sarah's Last Stand by Rose Sarah, 17, walks into the room nervous and just a little bit scared. I can't believe I’m here! In a free clinic! Her thoughts echo the disbelief she feels about having to be here. "Damn, one night with some idiot and now I have to come here." A month ago Sarah was just a typical teenager, hanging with her friends, going to the mall and going to parties. In fact, one party in particular seemed like fun so she decided to go. She had heard that David’s parties were really cool and his parents were never home so the party always had some beer or pot. Sarah didn’t do drugs but occasionally she would drink. The night of the party Sarah was really bored. The party wasn’t going as great as she thought it would since her friend Kate had left her to go with her boyfriend. All of a sudden, someone came up behind her. "Want a drink?" the guy asked. He was about 6’1" with sandy hair and blue eyes. Sarah thought for a second. "Sure, as soon as you tell me your name. Mine is Sarah." "No problem, my name is Erik. I saw you from across the room and you looked as bored as I felt so I decided to ask if you wanted to be bored together." He had a smile on his face as he said this and his eyes were amazingly clear. They talked and laughed for a while, until the party started to break up. Erik and Sarah exchanged phone numbers and promised to get together soon. The next day, Sarah’s phone rang and she rushed towards it. "Hello?" "Hey, girl, it’s me Erik. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight." "Sure, I’d love to. What are we going to do?" After making plans to go to a movie, Sarah hung up the phone. She couldn’t wait for tonight. All of a sudden someone calls her name. "Sarah Manchester, the doctor will see you now." Oh, wow, I was so deep in remembering that I didn’t realize it’s my turn. I hope the test is negative, man if it wasn’t for that stupid guy Erik and my stupidity I wouldn’t be here. As she walks into the doctor’s office she starts to remember that night, after the movies how they went back to his house and kinda started messing around. They stopped for a little while and Erik got them some beer. Sarah had a little more to drink and then a little more and pretty soon, she was drunk. She was still messing around with Erik and pretty soon, they had sex. The next morning, Sarah woke up at home with a major hangover and a really fuzzy recollection of the night before. Later in the day, Erik called and told her that he only wanted to be friends. Sarah was really shocked, because by then she had remembered everything that had happened. Two weeks later she realized that she might be pregnant so she made an appointment at the free clinic, which brings Sarah back to reality as the doctor walks into the room. "Sarah, as you requested, I gave you a normal checkup procedure that I usually give to girls or women who have engaged in risky behavior. This includes a pregnancy test, an assorted STD test and an HIV/AIDS test." "Oh, that’s OK, I don’t need those other ones. I’m sure Erik was clean, but anyway what are the results of the pregnancy test?" The doctor holds out his clipboard, "Sarah, the pregnancy test came out negative, however you have tested positive for one other thing. Sarah, I’m sorry but you have HIV, the virus that causes-" "AIDS, I have the virus that causes AIDS? How could this happen?!" Sarah is shocked, as the doctor goes on, telling her that she must notify her partner for partners, she barely listens. "How could this happen to me? I knew that there was a chance I could get pregnant but why didn’t I realize the other stuff!" Oh my God, I am going to die because I was stupid. Oh yeah there are treatments but there isn’t a cure… I’m going to die. Only by Evelyn M. Duffy Thousands of years- Live, die, make peace and war- Only stone remains To tell the ancient tales. Only stone Remains to tell the stories Of long ago… Only stone. They had so much more, but it was lost. Dreams of stone, lives of stone Are all we know of them. Only stone. We live lives of stone and drown Our stony dreams under the Black ocean waves, All that we are is stone. Only stone. When future ones come, No stones will remain, and they Will not know the stories of now And long ages past. All that will remain are the stars. Only stars.
Where You Stand by Nichole M. Dwight Why does it seem At times like these There is no light at the end of the tunnel No pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Now is the time you look around and see nothing but darkness. You look to your past and see nothing worth remembering The grass always seems greener on the other side. But if you truly look deeper You’ll see you are my guiding light You’ll see you’re my pot of treasure In my darkest moment, You are the single star in the sky that leads me home. And maybe you’ll realize, The greenest grass is where you stand. Dedicated to Poodle |