Wednesday, December 13, 2017

"What are the two magic words that you can always use to make a shark happy?"

Come back after Christmas vacation to find out the answer to this splendid riddle!

"I'm all in favor of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let's start with typewriters."

~Solomon Short
Sea of Nothing

by Gianna Cabral

It comes in waves like the ocean tide,
Sometimes I get lucky when the ocean is calm and nothing is in motion.
I get a short, relieving break from myself, something I wish was always there.
But most of the time the roaring water gets strong, pulling me under its suffering sea.
My chest becomes heavy and I never think the feeling is going to vanish,
But just as I'm about to take my final breath, someone swoops beneath the hazardous abyss and pulls me back, breaking the surface once again.
The never-ending cycle is yet to be destroyed,

And I'm still just trying to keep my head above the water and survive this lonely, empty, sea of nothing.  

The Downfall of Man
By: Mary Godwin
Once there was a time
When we were known
For creating art and spreading light.
Once there was a time
When man could love and
Chart unexplored places of imagination.
Once there was a time.

Now we kill and conquer.
The streets run red with blood
And our rivers flow black with poison.
Now we create terrible things;
Murder, famine, war, and poison
Flows through our blood.

We expel our black hatred
Towards the heavens and skies above.
We bleed toxins knowingly into the rivers,
Into the ground, into the sky, into one another
And we’re fine with this;

These problems of mankind.

Frost on Your Roses
By: Mary Godwin
Mom loved to grow various plants
She especially loved her roses
If I had to say which was her favorite
It’d be the yellow ones
She loved her yellow roses.

She got them for her dad
He died when she was eighteen
But she wasn’t sad
She felt like he was still with her
He was the yellow roses.

She took good care of them
If she ever felt alone
She’d go to her garden
To sing to the plants and watch
The roses dance to her songs.

She ended up singing every night
Under the moonlight she sang and they danced
The wind carried her words with it
If you saw her you’d think she was crazy
Singing and dancing alone

The truth was
She wasn’t alone
She was with her dad
They danced all night long
The moon was their only light.

They did this for quite a while
Night after night they’d go
Singing songs of sadness and joy
While dancing with the wind
She did this for as long as she could.

It came to an end one day
When bombs fell from the sky
When tanks rolled through the garden
When they came with weapons
It was then when it all ended.

But it never really ended to us
Her roses still stood
Even though her body could not
Sometimes at night you can still hear her spirit
Singing her songs to the yellow roses.

By Sarah Nealon

A constant, definite moving.  
I peer from the rusted metal bars of my cage, trying desperately to catch a glance at the figures in the front of the machine.  What are they?  I wonder, my eyes slanted with effort.  Aliens?  Demons?  Members of some twisted, government-run mission designed to kidnap innocent citizens?  I gulp anxiously, shrinking into the back of my cage.  
The machine itself is vast and spacious, with a layer of fine fabric coating its lower half and a wall of grayish metal located above that.  Small slivers of weathered glass are planted orderly around the walls of the place, the largest one curved well around the edges of the creatures’ heads.  A tiny light peers meekly from the ceiling, beaming pointlessly through the darkness like a single sigh through an awkward silence.  
To state it mildly, the scene is more depressing than an empty grave.  
My gaze drifts to the window beside me, and a flicker of movement immediately captures my eye.  Without hesitation, I spring to the front of my cage.  
“Help!” I cry desperately, eyeing the mysterious stranger outside of the machine.  He stands cautiously against a worn brick building, his body flattened against the material as if in hiding from some all-seeing force.  “Somebody - help!”  
“Shhhh,” hisses one of the creatures.  It turns to me, gaunt and fatally pale, its enormous round eyes fixated on me like a lion to its unsuspecting prey.  It parted its reddish lips to speak, its voice tuned to a low, guttural rasp.  
What could it possibly be saying?  I puzzle, wincing at the series of clashing syllables.  What would one say to a terrified prisoner?  

Finally, after what felt like weeks of stirring impatiently in cramped confinement, the creatures finally halt to the side of a strange building.  It’s white and angular, illuminated only by two small lights near its door and the faint reflection of moonlight across its windows.  A small field of greenery capes the ground in front of it, glittering droplets of dew collecting on every last blade.  
One of the creatures climbs out of its machine, the other quickly following.  It strides over to my window, laying a shriveled pinkish hand below its base.  Quickly, as if snatching a book from a tabletop, it yanks open the door beside me.  
Here it is, I think nervously, a knot of anxiety swelling in the pit of my stomach.  Here’s where I learn what they want from me.  
The creatures are much larger than I had originally expected their vine-like arms swaying rhythmically by their sides as they lug my cage toward their front door.  A choir of crickets sings melodically in the background; my only sign of familiarity in this bizarre, alien world.  
One of the creatures stabs a sharp device into the side of the door, and I tense with fright.  It began to sway softly on its hinges, an ancient groan echoing painfully through my eardrums.  Only a hair-like sliver of what lay beyond the door is visible to the outer world, and I manage a rasped cry.  
I tighten myself into a shivering mass as the pair begins to drag me through their doorway, a collection of towering figures scattered throughout the solid darkness.  
What can they be?  I wonder frantically, my heart a hammer against the wall of my ribcage.  Devices for torture?  For experimentation?  Will I soon be nothing more than a finished science experiment?  
Suddenly, a blinding light slices through the darkness.  As my eyes quickly adjust to the changes of scenery, I exhale a sigh of relief.  Furniture.  The strange, hulking figures I was so terrified of seconds ago are simply pieces of furniture.  
The creatures slowly lower my cage to the floor, a shriveled hand fingering its lock.  
The barred door to my cage springs loose, a wall of light stifling my vision.  
I sit for a moment, bewildered.  
They’re not seriously releasing me, right?  I wonder, eyeing the shining floor before my cage.  That would make absolutely no sense.  
Slowly, carefully, I inch out of my cell.  The room is gigantic and spacious, the ceiling looming distantly above me like a cloud to a sun-kissed field.  Notes of crimson and burgundy are planted dramatically throughout the scene, peppering it with a slightly gothic finish.  A grand mahogany table lay dormant before a wall-length window toward the back of the place, a wine-red tablecloth draped neatly over its surface.  
Chattering busily, the beasts stride to the impressive table.  The smaller one turns to me as it settles in its seat, a child-like chirp escaping its lips.  Baffled, I wander toward the foot of a cushioned chair, arms extended as I prepared to climb.  
Nnnoooooo …” hissed a creature, crooking a slender figure toward me.  
Uneasy, I shrink away from the chair.  How pleasant they are, I note, propping myself against the chair’s sagging side.  Slowly, gradually, I drifted off into a powerful sleep.  

I miss my family, I think dreamily, nestling into the side of the chair’s fabric.  I miss my mother’s kindness; my father’s patience; my brothers’ playful episodes that never seem to tire …
Suddenly, a deafening thud! echoes throughout the room.  I whip around to face the window, my heart pounding with shock.  
There, sitting watchfully below the window, was the mysterious stranger I had seen only hours ago.  
“Who are you?  What are you doing here?” I question drowsily, eyeing the odd intruder.  He’s tall and ember-haired, a pair of earth-brown eyes staring curiously at me through the darkness.  
“There’s no time,” he answered urgently, motioning toward the windowsill.  “You should escape now while you still can.”  
I narrow my eyes, bewildered.  
“Where will we go?”  
“We’ll find a better place--anywhere but here.  Trust me; you’re not the only one I’ve helped.”
I think for a moment, cautious.  Well, few things can be worse than this bizarre sentence.  
“Very well,” I decide, slipping beneath the opening of the window.  I catch a glimpse of the ground below me, and my stomach drops as if I had tumbled from the edge of a cliff.  
“Just jump,” hissed the stranger, glancing anxiously around the window.  “Jump and we’ll run.”
Inhaling deeply, I shoved myself from the edge of the building.  The world plummeted dizzyingly below me, the wind tousling my hair like the fingers of a thousand rushing ghosts.  Soon, I felt the grass beneath my feet, its dewdrops like gems along my aching feet.  I glance ahead, my heart pounding with anticipation.  
It’s time to use each of my nine lives as wisely as I can.