�1

" " """""""" "

WANT TO BE INCLUDED? We would love to include your work in our next issue. We accept poetry, essays, letters, or whatever other writing your wonderful brains can come up with! For a piece to be considered, it must be 100% original writing which has been revised and edited. Please submit your writing electronically to our staff editor, Ms. Nicholson, at gnicholson@rsu23.org or you may submit to our 8th grade student editor, Amber Coxen, at bercoxen82@gmail.com or our 7th grade student editor, Catherine Henaire, at swimmer4infinity@gmail.com

Bobcat TalesJanuary, 2014 ISSUE 5

Virginia Bradford, 7

8th Grade: Amber Coxen, editor Erin Farrell, Lucy Freeman, Zoe Horton, Salma Khalifa, Sara McInnis-Misenor, Deirdre Ridge, Maddie Stoddard "7th Grade: Catherine Henaire, editor Ivy Beals, Virginia Bradford, Jenna Danley, Julia Hildebrand, Mary Nicholson

Our Group

Included in each issue will be an inspirational quote column. There will be a submission box located in room C5. (Ms. Nicholson’s room)

If you have a favorite quote, feel free to submit it for our next issue. "This issue’s quote is:

I think everybody’s weird. We should all celebrate our individuality and not be embarrassed or ashamed of it. "

Johnny Depp

�2

""""""""" ""

Table of Contents "STORIES The Virus II by Salma Khalifa………………………………………..…………….……………3 Lost by Jenna Danler….…………………………………..…………….…..………….…….……7

The Universe of Abigail Harte by Ivy Beals………………………..……………………….11

The Ending by Catherine Henaire…..…………………………………….….………………14

Why the Ground Looks Like a Quilt by Virginia Bradford….……….…..……….…18

Chaos by Sara McInniMisenor and Sabrina Sanborn……..…………………….……21 Winter’s Eve by Julia Hildebrand……………….….……..…………………………………22 "POEMS Clinging Birds by Amber Coxen….………………….………………..….……….………….…6

Happiness by Erin Farrell…………………………………………….….………….…………..10 Snow by Sara McInnis-Misenor………………………………………………….……….……13 The painful melody of heartbreak by Ivy Beals…………………………………….……..16 "BOOK REVIEWS The Divergent Trilogy reviewed by Zoe Horton….………………………………….…….7 Soul Eater reviewed by Deirdre Ridge…………………….…………………………………17

Mary Nicholson, 7

�3

"The Virus II

Shadows in the Field Salma Khalifa, 8 "

A chorus of crickets chirped as the inky darkness of night congested the two companions in darkness, only to be penetrated by the subtle rays of moonlight that filtered through the trees. Muffled footsteps cracked upon the crisp and dewy grass as they slipped through a breach in the dense foliage, exposing a capacious enclosure occupied by several small caves and two large animals. The bestial creatures froze in their tracks and emitted a guttural sound. "Who goes there?" said the first sentry, malice laced between his words. "Zeke," came a pronounced and smooth vocalization. The massive German Shepherd advanced arrogantly towards the guards. A grotesque smile crossed his maw. "Call Peter - I have a new recruit. Bring La Bestia as well." One of the guards replied with a grunt of understanding, and soon was swallowed by the shadows as he departed. Zeke ensconced himself upon the thick vegetation of the terrain, and goaded Ivy to sit alongside him. Ivy perceived her surroundings with optimistic gratitude; without Zeke she would be, most likely, dead. Or turned into one of those terrible mutants. Soon, two silhouettes exposed themselves among the gathering fog. They soon defined themselves into a handsome bobcat with piercing azure eyes, and a tall and narrow cougar, who was embellished with battle scars and an established muscle structure. Ivy's eyes widened into terrorized spheres as the cougar prowled towards her, each step seeming to flow with utter ease. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she feared he would hear it. Mercifully, he seemed not to notice and cast a glance at Zeke, a smile spreading across his face, his eyes glowing with amusement. "What's the bantam's name?" he said. "Ivy," Zeke announced, throwing a look at her. She wished she didn't looked so terrified, but no opportunity presented itself to her petrified conscience. The bobcat cleared his throat, glaring at the two, "Let us introduce ourselves. My name is Peter, my companion prefers Beastio, I see you have already met Zeke. If you are to join our company of survivors, you will need to abide to our laws and pull your own weight. The rules are simple - put others before yourself and think selflessly." Ivy croaked out a petite reply "Uh, yes... Sir?" she added hopefully. "Zeke," Peter muttered softly, "show her around, will you?" his eyes twinkled with kindness. "Sure, Peter." he inclined his head in acknowledgment and beckoned Ivy to follow him. The two companions circumnavigated the camp, pinpointing various locations that would assist with survival in the group, such as the bedding area, prey crevice (a place to store consumables), and the high ranking caves in which the elder and superior members held their dens. Zeke's muzzle lifted, the moon creating a thin outline of white along the bridge of his nose, his nostrils flared and eyelids reduced to a suspicious glare.

�4

Soon, a rustle in the dense flora alerted Ivy of Beastio's presence. The snake-like cougar wound his way towards the two animals, staring intently at Zeke, only to give Ivy a few mischievous glances. "Ah, Zeke, I should take this one of your hands, yes? You have worked a full day's work, my friend, and you are in dire need of a rest." The large dog snorted with contempt, "It's very good of you to offer, but me and Ivy should be getting to bed," he stopped his jaw hanging in mid sentence, he rotated his head to look at Ivy, "now." Ivy burned with embarrassment. She’s not a kitten - who is Zeke to boss her around? Showing submission would be weak, anyway. "Zeke, are you not staying in the high caves tonight?" Beastio teased. Ivy turned her head to interrogate Zeke, but was cut off mid syllable, "I think she would like a little luxury treatment in the high dens tonight, wouldn't you Ivy?" Beastio's lip curled into an amused snarl, a morbid mixture of tooth and a gentle grin. Ivy shook her head and retreated to Zeke's side. "M-maybe another time." She stammered. Her heart pounded in her ears as her eyes roved over the masculine figure of the cougar. She raised her head to whisper softly in Zeke's ear, "What do we do? I'm scared out of my wits." The German Shepard stifled his laughter, "We leave, stupid. He's just gonna stand there like an idiot until we leave," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. The cougar narrowed his eyelids in anger, his upper lip curling into a snarl. “He must have heard,” she thought to herself, “ of course he did, we were talking right in front of him.” Ivy silently cursed at herself as Beastio turned tail and prowled away. Ivy followed Zeke as he advanced towards the bedding area, her small legs stumbling to catch up to his. They climbed through the crevice of the cave, both gliding in effortlessly, and ensconced themselves in the soft moss that was spread across the ground. The rasping of breaths whispered in her ears as the flanks around her rose and fell at the same rhythm. Warmth enveloped her in its gentle wrap and she fell into the lull of sleep.

… The sun's rays peered into the leaves and dappled the ground with a cascade of fluctuating lights. The inside of Ivy's eyelids burned red as they slid open to reveal a friendly, brown colored face with large green eyes staring her down, a smile curved across the animals features. "Hello! What's your name? I have never seen you before! My name is Cyprus. Can I be your friend? How old are you? Do you like games? I love games! Do y—," his rambling was cut short as a massive, shaggy creature exposed itself from the shadows. "Hi mommy! Have you met my new friend? She is ve—" yet again he was cut short as a sickly sweet whisper leaked out of the creature’s lips. "Now Cy, leave her be. She just got here and is probably very tired," her eyes scanned Ivy over, "Hello, my name is Caccia, nice to meet you," she noticed the puzzled

�5

expression on Ivy's face, "Have you never yet seen a wolverine dear?" she smiled a toothy grin. Ivy coughed out a startled reply, "I er... I'm, uh, my name is uh, Ivy." she grinned clumsily, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms." "My, such manners. Sadly, manners will get you nowhere in this world," she gazed wistfully at Cyprus, who was now rolling in the dirt outside the dens. Ivy was about to crackle out a slight reply, yet her interest was piqued by a booming voice that howled across the clearing. Ivy's gaze tore away from the wolverine that was perched before her, and inclined her senses towards a moss blanketed log that cradled Peter upon it. Peter once again raised his voice and vocalized a shattering yowl that caught the attention of a couple of playing kittens and elderly canines. Peter cleared his voice authoritatively, his eyes challenging anyone in the vicinity to interrupt him. "Listen up, hunting patrols,” his blue eyes pierced Ivy as they turned to hook on her. "The platoon leaders are Zeke and Taruko, then Beastio and Sebastian. Pick your team." Beastio's attention immediately was drawn to Ivy. His maw parted to vocalize a request to join him, yet Zeke's voice overcame his words. "Ivy, join me and Taruko, and why not Ramsey as well?" his gaze darted towards a large tawny colored wolf. Taruko's long, scarred muzzle curled into a smile, he turned his head and whispered into Zeke's ear. "Does little Zekie have a crush? It seems like Beastie over there does." He locked his attention on Beastio, whose eyes were flaming with jealousy.

… The association of animals prowled silently against the abandoned expanse of farmland. The air sent vocalizations of laborious breathing from the surrounding animals into Ivy's senses, yet no other sound prevailed. Her paws felt clumsy under the dry earth; with every step a crackle of grass fractured under her feet. She turned her head and surveyed the large sandy wolf beside her. He had a long, luxurious mane of fur, and his tail was elegantly swaying behind him. He showed signs of weariness, although he was attempting to hold himself together. He must be sweltering under all that fur, rationalized Ivy. She searched within the confines of her mind to find his name. Ramsey! She turned her head forward and a glow of triumph illuminated her happiness. Zeke suddenly halted, causing Ivy to stumble across his haunches. "Quiet," came his authoritative and stern whisper. An offensive smell drifted through the air. Ivy gagged, attempting not to regurgitate at the foul smell. She simply dug her nose between her paws, in attempt to alleviate the horrible odor, yet to no avail. A pronounced gurgling and cracking sound exposed itself, as a decaying body dragged itself from behind the shelter off a barrel of hay. The grotesque face turned to observe the animals with dead, clouded and lifeless eyes. Its jaws grated together in evident hunger. Fear raced through Ivy like a bullet, only to stand there in terror as the creature dragged itself towards Ramsey. The large sandy wolf scoffed, "Why are we all just standing here, look, he has no legs. Why not finish him off?" Taruko, a smaller, yet heavily built grey wolf trotted forward. He lifted his paw and landed a shattering blow to the temple of the mutant. He aimed more, hitting the creature’s head with rapid succession, until the skull was split

�6

and blood oozed from the newborn crevices of the head. Ivy turned her head towards the farm in the distance, in order to avoid the ghastly scene. "We should mo-" Zeke paused and uttered a gruesome whine of pain. His three companions whipped around, only to see a pack of mutants unraveling upon Zeke, tearing his flesh from his body. Blood drenched the ground, splattering Ivy with tiny droplets of the thick crimson liquid. Ivy roared in protest, her heart pounding in her throat as Zeke was overcome. Ivy attempted to spring forward and rescue her friend, yet Ramsey hooked his paw around her neck and dragged her back. Taruko ordered frantically to retreat, but a dull roar was locked in Ivy's ears, her senses dulled from grief. The ashen-hued wolf snarled at Ivy, "If you don't leave now, we're going t-" Ramsey screamed as another mutant broke from the remains of Zeke and hurtled itself at Taruko. The wolf howled with freight and the two of them retreated into the field. Ivy withdrew from the mutant, now stumbling after her in an utterly famished way. Her legs burned with fatigue as she absconded from the scene, sorrow clutching her heart. She heard the noise of the mutant die away, and she ran a few more meters to be sure. She then slowed to a stop, encasing herself in the thick flora as she laid down. Her emerald green eyes burned with dysphoria, taking in the dark and dreary forest around her. She sighed with pain, and sat up to observe her area more clearly. A pain raced through her leg and she stifled a cry of agony. She turned to find a laceration spread across her leg, fresh blood streaming from the wound. Her eyes widened in disbelief, didn't Zeke say, that if you got bit or cut, you'll turn into a mutant? Just then, the haunting sounds of moaning, and an ominous rustle began to transpire in the bush right behind her.

… "

"

Clinging Birds Amber Coxen, 8 ""

The last winter leaves Clinging to the black branches

Explode into birds

�7

Book Review Zoe Horton, 8

"The Divergent Trilogy, by Veronica Roth; Harper Collins

The Divergent Trilogy, by Veronica Roth, is an amazing series. This trilogy consists of Divergent, Insurgent, and Allegiant. Divergent is a dystopian series that takes place in the future. In this future world, the world has been split up into 5 categories called "factions". Once you were 16 you wouldchoose what faction you would like to be in. Erudite,(the smart) Candor,(the honest), Abnegation (the selfless), Dauntless (the brave) and Amity (the peaceful). This book revolves around the many adventures and risks of Beatrice (Tris) Prior’s life in Dauntless.At the start of the first book, Tris lives in Abnegation, but when she is 16 she switches to Dauntless. Then there's Four, the strict Dauntless trainer. What will happen when their worlds collide? Veronica Roth does a beautiful job telling the story of Tris's life, throughout all 3 books of the trilogy, perfectly describing every scenario, with lots of twists and turns.

"Lost

Jenna Danler, 7

I was lost. Hopelessly, utterly, lost. Lost beyond the concept of lost. A parallel universe, a different dimension. Seriously, much more than billions of light years away from where I should have been. Yep, I was lost. And this is the story of how I got lost. It actually started only a week ago, although it feels like years. I was doing what I do every Thursday afternoon in the summer: reading my book with a glass of lemonade. I was just getting to the part of my book where Creel finds Feniul's alchemy collars. I've read this part several times. I'm picky in my choice of books, so I find myself reading the same books over and over again. But this book makes me smile every time. All the same, I felt like I needed some change in my life. A bit of action, but not too much. I hate action, but I would be perfectly happy with some drama or exciting news. Every day is the same!

�8

Especially in the summer. Most kids hate school, and drone over all the useless things we learn, but I prefer school over summer vacation any day of the year. Suddenly, there was a massive crash. It wasn't a heavy kind of crash; it was more like a giant window separating into a million tiny shards. I was panicky, thinking that someone had broken into our house. I sprinted down the hall and paused, wondering where the sound came from. I spotted the ladder to the attic - it was unfolded. Going to investigate, I was worried that my little brother would be hurt by the intruder. He was the only one else home, after all. I had wanted a change, but not anything like this. Climbing up the ladder it was a bit wobbly, as I was trying to be very fast. When I got to the top, it was very dark. No one had turned the light on, which was strange. I placed my hand on the floorboards to haul myself up when something pierced my palm. "Argh!" I shouted, and inspected my hand carefully. A tiny bit of glass was shining brightly against my skin, and blood started to trickle down my hand. I plucked it out, and surveyed the floor of the attic. It was covered in glass shards, from three inches in diameter to little specks, as small as a grain of sand. The attic mirror was face down on the floor, completely shattered. And right in the middle of the mess was my 4 year old brother, his eyebrows creased. "What happened, Henry?" I asked, rather fiercely, some pain in my voice. "Two days later The bell rang with a high pitched jingle as I pushed open the door. The lighting in the small shop was dim, and I could just make out the crowded shelves of junk. A man with a gray mustache was sleeping in a corner. He appeared to be the owner of the small shop. I walked in carefully, avoiding piles of broken stones and burnt wood. I glanced at the shelves of dusty books. Where would I find a mirror? This is the mirror shop, isn't it? I spotted a glimmer of bright light. Shading my eyes, I walked towards it. Behind the rows of books, there were hundreds of different mirrors. Big, small, handheld, bathroom, glass, plastic, doll, round, square, and many more. I just needed a tall, plain, wall mirror! These were mostly antique. I picked out a simple one lined with dark brown wood. It was wedged into a corner, with a few books stacked on top of it. Not wanting to risk any mirrors being broken, I carefully relocated the books to a different mirror, then bent down over my chosen one. I lifted it up carefully, but it was surprisingly light, so I almost lost my balance using too much force. I gripped the wood with two hands and sidled to the sleeping man. His eyes twitched. I poked him with my toe, because I was holding the mirror with both hands. He grumbled and pushed himself up. "What do you want so late in the day? No one ever comes here... Let me sleep!" he moaned with his eyes still closed. He laid back down.

�9

"Please, sir. I need a new mirror." I held up the mirror I had chosen. He opened one eye, and they widened noticeably. He made a gasping sound, pointing. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head, standing up. "You can't have that mirror, miss. It's not for sale, miss. Please choose any different one, miss.” "Why not this one? It seems to be good quality, but I don't see what's so special about it,” I replied, baffled at his love for this one mirror. I would have easily just picked another one, but it bothered me that this one- this SINGLE unimportant mirror- was not for sale among many others. "Why is it not for sale?" "I- I can't tell you, miss. Just put it down and select another one, miss." He waddled to the rest of the mirrors and picked up one lined with ivory and pearls. "I'll give this one to you for 50% off if you don't choose that one, miss. It's originally $72.25, but I can't afford to loose that one in your hands, miss.” I considered it, because the ivory one was splendid, but I decided to get to the bottom of this. It was nagging at me. "I like the ivory one, sir, but I would much rather have this wooden one. If you'd just tell me what's so important? I'll buy it for $100 if I have to. Why is it so valuable? Tell me, sir. Please," I raised my voice. The man gulped. "$200?" He bit his lip. “$250?" He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not paying more than that." "How about..." He thought for a moment, then chuckled. "It's worth $500,000,000." My eyes widened, "Why?" The man realized what he had said and glared, mad at himself. He put down the ivory mirror and sat back down at his resting spot. He closed his eyes, and said a single word "No." I rested the wood-lined mirror on the wall, and turned to leave when I felt a slight shudder, like the Earth was shivering. I turned back towards the mirror. The glass was gone. Instead of glass, there was a door.

""""

�10

Happiness Erin Farrell, 8 "You learn all your life to live by a certain guideline But for what? It doesn't accomplish anything Why should I care about anything or anyone? Why should I be nice to others? Why should I be anything to anyone? I am one person and I alone cannot construct change Several people cannot construct change And even if we could Would it be right? "What is the definition of right and wrong? What's truth and what's lies? All everything is is one big lie Everyone has desires and fantasies But in the end they don't mean anything All for what? Nothing really We live our lives learning to get jobs getting jobs to get money getting money to get food and to get things we want "It never makes us happy The only thing that makes us happy is the existence and the caring of others And that is such a fragile state One wrongly put word can send the whole thing tumbling down Spiraling out of control And then you would have nothing "So in essence we spend our lives to make others happy So that we can be happy So what's happiness? Science says that dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, and endorphins are what create happiness These chemicals are released after doing something that makes you feel good But turn off again when their job is done. Why does your brain do this? It's possible that maybe, just maybe We feel happy to feel happy We do the things we do to get a feeling out of life A feeling that otherwise wouldn't be there A feeling of completion and self worth Maybe that's what's worth living.

�11

The Universe of Abigail Harte Chapter 2 Ivy Beals, 7 " I waited by her bedside, glancing at the shiny white clock. I sighed as my fiancé put his arm around me and knelt down by my chair. I stared at my fingers, scraping the nail polish off in anxiety. I had given up. I balled my hands into fists and lifted them to my face, hunching over and crying. "Maybe she'll wake up,” My fiancé said softly. "Any day now." I glanced at him despairingly. "Don't you think she would have already?" I asked crossly. He gulped and rubbed my back comfortingly. "I don't know," he finally murmured. "I've never witnessed someone in a coma before. I don't know how long it can take." I folded my arms and crossed my left leg over my other one, tapping my right leg rapidly. I pursed my lips and stared ahead, holding my breath slightly to keep from crying anymore. "Amy," he began. "I'm not mad, I just-" I wiped my eyes. "What if she never wakes up?" He thought for a moment. "She will. I really believe she will." I glanced down at my hands again, rubbing my thumb over the small white diamond on my engagement ring. My red hair fell in front of my face, and I pushed it absently behind my ear. I looked back at Abigail, her messy, curly brown hair falling around her on her pillow. All her cuts and broken bones had healed since the accident, but she still hadn't woken up. I closed my eyes and rubbed them in exhaustion, yawning. "I can't wait any longer today," my fiancé announced, standing up. He kissed me on the cheek. "I have work." I sighed and glanced at my watch. "Me too," I admitted unhappily. It wasn't that I didn't like where I worked - after all, it was my dream job - but this was just too important to take my mind off of. I slung my black leather bag over my shoulder and took one last look at Abigail's face, showing no signs of awaking. I shook my head in exasperation and walked out of the hospital room, my heels clicking loudly in the otherwise silent corridor. I signed out with the nurse for the millionth time that year, and walked out the tall glass doors. The bright, Wednesday sunlight felt nice and warm on my back, a warm breeze shaking the trees.It was a beautiful morning, barely a cloud in the sky. It was the summer after I had gotten out of college, and it was nice to finally feel free from school. I stopped

�12

suddenly and zipped open my purse, sifting through all the credit cards and makeup. "Where is it?" I muttered irritably, stamping my heel on the sidewalk. I sighed and rolled my eyes, finally finding my phone. I touched the screen quickly, tapping in the code. The screen lit up blue and the time in white letters popped up. I let out a small groan. No new messages. I shook my head in annoyance and walked towards my car, taking out my keys and clicking the red button, allowing the doors to unlock. I grabbed the handle and pulled it out towards me, climbing in my blue punch buggy. I frowned and plugged my phone into the built in charger of my car. I reached behind me and grasped my seatbelt, pulling it over my chest and securing it in the seat buckle. Then I turned on the radio and turned the keys to start the car. I drove away from St. John's hospital, glancing once at it, resentful tears filling my eyes. It just wasn't fair. Nothing was fair. " I rushed through the halls of the airport, dragging my luggage behind me. I went over things in my mind, trying to see if I was forgetting anything. Nope, I decided silently. I huffed in relief as I reached my line to get my passport. Europe, here I come, I thought. I waited impatiently, tapping my foot rapidly. I checked my watch. "11:53...." I muttered. "Huh?" The person if front of me turned around. "Hmm? Oh, nothing, I'm sorry, I was just talking to myself." The person smiled softly at me and held out her hand. "Savannah Martez, pleased to meet you." I smiled back and took her hand, shaking it gently. "Likewise," I replied. "Where are you headed?" She asked, looking at me from behind a curtain of black hair. "Europe," I replied. Her turquoise colored eyes widened."What for?" She asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "Oh, I'm an archeologist," I explained, grinning. "That makes sense," she laughed. Then she shrugged. "Have fun, then.” I thought for a moment."Where are you going?" I finally asked. "I'm traveling to Spain to visit some family," she explained, beaming. "What flight?" I questioned. "I think it's......." She thought for a moment, "Flight 284." "Huh!" I laughed. "That's the flight I'm going on!" She cocked her head to the side and smiled brightly. "We can be plane buddies!" She giggled teasingly. I laughed again. "Too bad there's assigned seating on planes," I mused.

�13

"Yeah." She turned around again, her silky black hair swishing as her head swerved. The line finally moved, but only a few inches. I groaned quietly. "How long is this going to take?" I muttered irritably. Savannah's cell phone rang in front of me, and she flipped it open. "Hello?" She said clearly. She listened for a minute and her shoulders slumped. "Can't I just-" she began. But the person on the other line must have interrupted her, because she sighed in exasperation. "Okay. I should be there in about forty-five minutes." She turned off her phone and plopped it in her bag, turning to me. "I have to go back to work," she said, looking really disappointed. "I won't get to see my family again until Christmas now." I frowned."Where do you work?" I asked. "Oh well I-" she started, but then my cell phone rang. "Better get that," she laughed. I touched the screen and answered apprehensively."Hello?" I said into the speaker. It was my fiancé. "Amy, I was on the way to work and I got a call from the hospital." My face turned white and I gulped. "What happened?" I asked shakily, trying hard not to cry. He took a deep breath and said unsteadily: "She's awake."

Snow Sara McInnis-Misenor, 8 "Fluttering flakes of ocean pearl white, Make the world seem oh so bright. Making their way down to Earth, Letting us know what Winter's worth. Coating the world in a wondrous sheet, Floating down in a light, white fleet. Soon this spectacular substance must go, Oh wonderfully, wonderful snow.

�14

The Ending Catherine Henaire, 7 " The glowing light of the fire bounces off Xavier's face, illuminating him. Snow flakes settle on my black coat then instantly dissolve into nothing. Something so beautiful gone as fast as I could snap my fingers. Xavier must be cold because he tugs his hood over his head and stuffs his hands in his sweatshirt. "Zara we have to do something, we can't just sit here while we wait for our world to end ," Xavier sighs and smoothes his hood down to his head. "This may be the last time we can be here Ax, we have to enjoy it.” I only call Xavier “Ax” when I am trying to be serious. This is not the time to be goofing around. I look up, knowing this may be the last time we see the sky. I study the stars carefully, almost as if I am trying to decipher their code. The moon, which is hidden behind blurry clouds , shoots its bright light through cracks in the cloud’s body. Even Xavier peers above into the endless ocean of clouds and stars. I lean into Xavier and he wraps his arm around me. My cheeks tingle with the warmth of his sweatshirt and for once in a long time I feel safe. I can finally relax, but I know it won't be for long. Soon the national security guards will be coming. They will remove us from our families and take us away from the ones we love. Our country owes a lot of money that they are not willing to pay. We stand no chance against the other countries. The end is near; there will be no happy fairy tale ending for us. There is a rustling sound close to the campsite. Xavier whips his head around and places his arm protectively on my shoulder. Five muscular men in camouflage uniforms stomp out of the woods and into the large clearing. “Step forward," the guard’s loud voice bellows from the edge of the woods. Xavier holds out his hand in front of me, I grab it and hold on tightly. I must've had an uncertain look in my eyes because Xavier nods reassuringly. We trudge through the snow until we reach the guards. "Get in the vehicle," one of the shorter, more pudgy guards demands. I feel Xavier tense - he doesn't like being told what to do. He's more of a free spirit. He helps hoist me up onto the bulletproof jeep. We find seats at the back of the vehicle and sit down. The jeep is stuffy and uncomfortable and it bounces harshly when we go over tree branches, sticking out from the snow covered ground. "Name?" The guard asks. "Zara Zealand,” I say.

�15

"Xavier Crusoe," Xavier shifts, awkwardly. The guard nods, "We already have your family at camp 108, Zara." My parents were probably worried to death about me. I told them I'd be back tomorrow but we never know when the guards are coming. "Xavier we have no record of your parents," the guard frowns. Xavier's parents are scientists that abandoned him to prepare for the end. He never liked talking about it. " My parents aren't um..around.” I catch a glimpse of sadness in Xavier's big green eyes, but when I look back, it's gone. His pale skin glows under the vehicle’s bright lights. I glance back at the log cabin. The huge tall oaks cover the property, making the cabin look tiny. I remember how my cousins and I would pick bundles of sweet smelling raspberries from the bushes, disregarding our parents orders and secretly eating the sweet raspberries on the way back to camp. Oh how I'll miss this place. My eyes get blurry as a little salty tear slithers down my cheek , leaving a watery streak. I squeeze my eyes shut and run my finger under my waterline, blocking the tears that are anxiously waiting to flow down my face. Xavier, like me, looks out the tinted windows of the jeep, solemn. The jeep turns down a bumpy trail and jolts us forward . We come to a halt at a large camp base and the guards direct us out of the jeep and into one of the many small tents. "Zara! We were so worried!" My mom’s long black hair is tied messily in a pony tail that drapes down her back. I rush to her side and squeeze her tightly. "I know, I know ,but I'm all right," I smile. "Xavier! " my mom warmly embraces him. My family and I share a small tent near the ration center. Unfortunately, the tent is crowded and claustrophobic and we barely have any room to lie down. But soon after all of the greetings, night comes and I find myself buried underneath the warm covers of the green sleeping bag. My head races. I mean sure, we're fine right now, but what about tomorrow? Or the next day? Or the day after that? Will we still be okay then? I shut my eyes and dream about the past, when everything was okay. The next day we are awakened by a loud alarm that rings out from one of the many watchtowers. There is a frantic rustling sound outside our tent. Loud bangs ring out. We all rush out of the tent, alarmed. A group of guards run past us and into the darkness of the woods. An older woman scans the crowds of people , confused. People shout for answers and soon it seems that there are more voices than oxygen in the camp. I rub my caramel colored skin in hopes of warming up. Guards file out from the main buildings, all of them darting through the huge mobs of people like we are pesky mosquitos.

�16

One of the chiefs stops and says to us, "Settle down! We must not act like children. The invaders have come. We are trying to chase the enemies off but we don't know if we will be able to hold them off long enough to move campsites." There is a look of true concern in his eyes. I glance at Xavier who is biting his fingernails, something he only does when he is nervous. He sees me watching and wraps his arm around my waist , tugging me closer to him. My mom’s head is resting in her hands and her back bounces up and down, my father leans over her and rubs her back. She looks up, tears streak her face and she grabs ahold of my hand. " We will be okay,” I reassure her. My mom has a doubtful look in her eyes and so does Xavier. My father nods and winks. I'd like to think that we will be okay but there is no certainty of anything anymore. The guards who aren't busy fighting guide us through a trail, the opposite way of the intruders. A man in front of us screams hysterically that we will all die and a guard comes and leads him away. Other people shout and more of the campers are led away, back towards the camp. I wonder what kind of punishment lies ahead for the rowdy campers. We've been walking for hours now and the sun starts to set, making the sky a pink and purple ocean. The beautiful sky then fades into pitch blackness. We are more vulnerable in the dark, and the other campers know that. They get restless and start frantically running towards the guards for protection. I think of all I've been through to be here. Is it even worth it? Spending most of my teenage years worrying about debt and death, mostly death. No kid should ever have to worry about that. Large, muscular men with firearms stop us in our tracks. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands . The invaders. The campers run in all directions. Chaos is now spreading like a wildfire. Xavier pulls me in close. My mother holds tightly onto my hand. I shut my eyes . We all hold hands and march forward, into the line of fire. We may only be a group of helpless people but in this moment I feel as if there are a million of us.

"The painful melody of heartbreak Ivy Beals, 7 "I stand alone, waiting, watching; behind a silent tree. He strums the guitar so gently, quietly; barely noticing me. It's the painful melody once again, the one of heartbreak and sorrow. Doesn't he see, the girl behind the tree, can heal that heart tomorrow?

�17

Book Review Deirdre Ridge, 8

"Soul Eater, by Atsushi Ōkubo; Yen Press

Like Bleach, Naruto, Fullmetal Alchemist, and plenty more, Soul Eater falls under the title of Shonen (manga or anime directed at the male gender.) Unlike other Shonen titles, though, Soul Eater is a short series ending at one hundred and ten chapters. The first volume of Soul Eater was released in June of 2004. Soul Eater is about a school, Death's Weapon Meister Academy, attended by children who have the abilities to transform into a weapon, or the children who can fight with these weapons. The story centers around three partner pairs. Maka and her scythe, Soul, are the first pair we meet appearing in chapter one. Our next partner pair is the "amazing" assassin Black*Star and his chain scythe Tsubaki. They make an appearance in chapter two. In chapter three we meet Lord Death's (Shinigami Sama in Japanese), the principal of this school’s, son and his two weapons. Their names include Death the Kid (Kidd in Japanese spelling), his weapons are Thompson sisters Elizabeth "Liz", and Patricia "Patty". Kid's weapons take the form of twin pistols. The first three chapters in the manga are considered prologues. They explain the goal of the students that attend Death's Weapon Meister Academy, or DWMA (Shibusen in Japanese), and you get to meet the main trio group. The goal of the DWMA students is to collect ninety-nine Kishin souls and one witch's soul. This will result in the weapon becoming a death scythe, a weapon used by Lord Death himself. At first it appears that the students are trying to attempt this goal, but after the second volume the series gets on moving with the story plot, and the whole goal is pretty much dropped. Once in the actual story plot the gang is faced with enemy upon enemy trying to defeat the lead mastermind himself. After each enemy the gang becomes stronger, gaining new powers and abilities. This series was very good. It had the action which I enjoyed, but wasn't too violent or boring either. Soul Eater also showed a bit of comedy through a few filler chapters, which are scattered throughout each of the twenty-five volumes. The series wasn't very long compared to others, such as Bleach, which is sixty-one volumes and over four hundred chapters. So overall, I believe you should read this series.

"""

�18

Why the Ground Looks like a Quilt Virginia Bradford, 7

Once there was a prairie, wide and windy. The crops had failed, year after year, and all the food was brought from the earth. The yellow sun-bleached grass had fallen, straggly and tall; barely an ear of corn had survived. The village lay beside a hill, where all the grass was stripped away. Small thatched houses nestled against each other, taking advantage of the small space. It was a windy autumn day-- there would have been a harvest if there was anything to gather. The houses were inhabited by a group of people, dressed in gray and black and brown, with straw hats and muddy boots. One of these people was Farmer Ground-Hollow, a man wrinkled and weathered by the sun, the heat long gone by now. He was old, and his wife, although younger, was thin and pale, with gray hair tucked into a clean, white cap. He was seemingly always searching for something that would help the harvest. Something to bring colors to the prairie. “Mary, have you heard of anywhere I could gather seeds?” Farmer Ground-Hollow asked his wife. She was fumbling around to wash the plates in clean well water. “I have seen a woman, old and frail, living by the hill in a cottage. I stopped by for sweet potato pie. Mmm-mm. She said a girl lived in the hill, beggin’ for food.” “But that’s impossible!” the farmer coughed. “How can anyone live in a hill?” “Let us see if it is true. All we’ve got is the cows and potatoes. A bit of wheat. It would do us good,” Mrs. Ground-Hollow said, pulling her coat from a peg on the wall. “We will go,” Farmer Ground-Hollow decided, and hurried out with his wife. ☼ " It was cold outside, and the wind threatened to whip off Mrs. Ground-Hollow’s cloak. She tugged it over her face, and they slowly made their way to the hill-- a big, brown hill with no plants at all. All the trees and things that had been there before the village moved had disappeared. Farmer Ground-Hollow rapped on the door three times. A lady came to the door, as wrinkly as a dried prune. The door creaked open, and she gave a wide smile. Almost all her teeth were missing. The wind seemed to push the visitors in, so they hurried inside and closed the door tight. “Good evening, Mary... have you come for potato pie? Apple tarts?” she said. “Apple tarts...?” Mrs Ground-hollow asked, frowning. “Oh, yes!” she said excitedly.”I have a tree behind my cottage,” Mrs. Ground-Hollow put her hand on the doorknob, but it was closed tight. “What tree?” boomed the farmer. “Now, now, don’t get excited. The little girl gave me a seed in exchange for a potato pie. She just loves my food! And you will, too. Won’t you have a cup of apple tea?” the old lady burst out. " Mrs. Ground-hollow shot her husband a look. I told you so, it seemed to say. “There is a girl! Oh, and she has seeds, you say? John, this could save our harvest!” she said. “Where is she?” demanded Farmer Ground-Hollow. “All I do is ring the bell at the very top. I throw down the pie.”

�19

" ☼ " They closed the door and hurried over to the hill, tired after dodging the flying streams of dust. There was no door, but a very small, ornately carved wooden bell nailed to a stump. Mrs. Ground-Hollow rung it, and it made a nice hollow sound like a spoon bumping the edges of a clay pot of porridge. With a thump, the stump split in two, revealing a hole that was big enough to fit the couple but small enough to look like an accident. Curious, Mrs. Ground-Hollow threw herself into it, falling into pure blackness. She hit hard dirt, and her husband oophed down. “Ouch,” said Mrs. Ground-Hollow, stroking her hair. “Anybody here?” asked Mr. Ground-Hollow. “What... are... you doing... in my house? Get Out!!” " Their eyes adjusted to the dirty darkness. A girl with a dusty red dress and red hair appeared. Her shoes were made of roots. Her face was dirty and she had a sharp nose and sharp dark eyes. She stomped forward. “I said what are you doing here? It’s my house. Mine!” “I would like a seed. Only one-- just one will do,” said Farmer Ground-Hollow. “I want a potato. Give me a potato. Then I will give you a seed. If I want.” " Mrs. Groundhollow stared at her. “I am the seed keeper, and I will not give until I am given!” she said in a fierce voice. " ☼ For the next few days, the farmer and his wife did more digging than ever before, whistling, buried in several layers of wool, while the other villagers huddled by the fire, eating potatoes. They dug with their wooden shovels and found only blackened potatoes. Rotten. “Those crazy old farmers,” the villagers whispered, peeking out of their windows. But they kept working, and soon they found the perfect potato-- small and round and exactly circular, with a few eyes that shined with water. Perfect. “Oh, it’s perfect!” Mrs Ground-Hollow said to her husband. " The next day the couple went back to the hill, and gave the little girl her potato. She squealed, snatched it out of the farmer’s hands, and ran off, her stringy red hair flying. "“But what about the seed?” the farmer shouted after her. " “Oh….” She ran back and tossed a seed to the lady. “I will give you only one!” she said, her voice echoing on the hard dirt. " They climbed out of the hill, and it was dusk. The prairie sky was cloudy and only a faint pink poked out. “Colors will come to the prairie, my dear,” said Mrs. Ground-Hollow, tumbling down the hill and walking to the house, her cape flying like a kite. " ☼ " It was snowing when the couple awoke. Their house was dusty and smelled like soil, but it was cozy. It had one room, with a fireplace and bed made of wood, and wool sheets,

�20

replacing the cloth sheets of the summer season. Behind it was a cooking section, with a mud-brick oven and a shelf. Mrs. Ground-Hollow woke first, and prepared a little porridge with wheat, potato, and sugar. She ate half, and saved the rest for later. Pulling on her cap and cloak, she tried to cover up as much as she possibly could to avoid the biting cold. She kicked the snow out of a part of the backyard and grabbed a pitchfork to crack open the rock hard ground. Her hands were rough and red when she plopped the seed into the hole, and covered it up with the square of soil. She dropped the pitchfork and opened the wooden gate, leading the frozen cows into the cottage. She went back to sleep after lighting a fire in the fireplace. " ☼

The tree grew rapidly, from a seed to a sprout to a thick tree. The snow stopped, so the Ground-Hollows hurried outside to admire their tree, and a crowd gathered around the only tree in the town. “Oh, hello, Farmer. Is this what you have been digging for? Has it any fruit?” a villager asked. “I will check,” said Mrs. Ground-Hollow, lifting her skirts to not soak them in the snow. The sky was gray and colorless, promising more. The tree was exceptionally colorful. “Oh, Mercy!!” she cried, throwing her cloak off and running into her house. “There is no fruit, only scrap of fabric,” explained a villager. This only made the curious crowd huddle closer. Suddenly, the old lady from the hillside cottage hobbled over with her wooden walking stick piercing the snow. “It is good. All is well. You have the quilt flower!” “But I cannot do something with this. I cannot eat it, I cannot let my cows eat it.” said Farmer Ground-Hollow. “Let it cover your land, and all will be well,” said the old lady. She came back the next day with a quilt covered in green, pink, blue, and yellow, all mixed up. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” Mrs. Ground-Hollow said. She ran towards the frail old lady to retrieve the quilt, but she let go before the younger woman had a good hold. It slipped through her fingers with a gust of late winter wind, and made turns in the sky. It grew bigger as it flew higher, higher up. But everyone was too sad to notice. The quilt was gone and there was no more color. The wind stopped.

☼ Mrs Ground-Hollow woke up, lying in green grass. She wore a blue dress and her hair was golden. All her attempts of corn had grown, and the sun shined golden yellow. The cow pond was no longer brown and filthy, and the well water was a deep blue, reflecting the sky. She looked at the horizon and recognized her quilt-- green, pink, blue and yellow, all mixed up. “Color has come to the prairie,” she whispered. That is why the ground looks like a quilt.

☼ "

�21

"Chaos Sara McInnis-Misenor, 8 Sabrina Sanborn, 8 "You would tell me to just do it. You would tell me that there's nothing to be afraid of. The thing is, you're wrong. When I walk down the hall people stare at me. "Oh look at her hair," "Look at her face," "Look at her clothes," and the worst part is, that they act like I don't even hear them. If I brush into someone, they say, "Ewww! I've been contaminated!" and they brush their hand on someone else. Things like that are what get you. Things like that are what drive people, children, to insanity. They don't know just how much it hurts me. There is no such thing as "happy bullying". This is a shorter story than you might think. This is the story of a beginning and an end. The bell rang just as I stepped into the halls. How rude I haven't introduced myself. My name is Alexis Pi. Yes, Pi. A large source of teasing by the way. My locker is C125, so it's quite the walk to the end of the hall. Excuse me for being corny, but it is a jungle out there. The one thing I have to look forward to, is meeting my best friend Krystal down the hall. As I was scrambling to my locker, I saw Krystal just as she said, "I'm glad that nothing happened today Lexi. Teenagers are just jerks. Every last flaw you have, they will notice just because they have nothing better to do." "Especially Arica,” I replied. "She just has no moral values whatsoever." Of course my luck being what it is, Arica walked over. No posse, no followers, just her. That's how she liked it. She didn't need to overwhelm you with other people there, because she is terrifying enough. "Hey geeks," she spoke casually, yet with a stern tone, as if she knew something. Then I looked down and saw something I wish I hadn't. A weapon… ""To be continued....... """"""""

�22

Winter’s Eve"Julia Hildebrand, 7

Prologue December 20, 1864 "

The large clock rang out twelve times, twelve clear crisp bongs. The cry of a baby could be heard. A midwife flew down the steps of an old building, with a baby pressed against her chest. She ran through the dreary frost bitten streets of London, through twists and turns and empty alleyways. A man stood waiting in a vacant courtyard, tapping his boots lightly leaving a slight imprint in the thin coating of snow. He pulled his cloak tighter around his Naval uniform, and looked anxious. When the midwife stumbled through the frozen iron gate the baby let out a cry and the man looked up. "Prissy!" He called softly. The midwife looked up, "Prince Alfred!" She gasped, staggering over to him. "I've brought the child!” The midwife held out the bundle in her arms and the prince gently pulled part of the blanket away. His gaze softened as he found himself looking at the sleeping form of his child. "It's a girl." The midwife told him. The baby’s delicate eyelids fluttered softly with each breath. "Thank you." The prince whispered. "I am being dispatched tomorrow and fear I shall never see her again.” He reached into the deep pockets of his cloak and pulled out a chain with a gold key strung on it. The prince gently placed the necklace around the baby's neck and kissed her forehead. "Just in case." He whispered to her sleeping form, "Just in case they ever find you." ""

Chapter One August 20, 1876 "

"Winter!" Winter's head shot up out of the book she was reading. She pulled her torn cloak tighter around her small body and hunched down. Madame came marching across the slushy lawn, hands on her hips. Her beady hawk eyes searched the apple orchard until they reached the tree that Winter sat huddled in.

�23

"Winter Eve Adams!" Madame bellowed, "What in the blazes do you think you’re doing out here?” Reluctantly, Winter jumped down from the tree, landing gracefully back on the hard ground. Madame tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Winter to make her way over to her. "What's THIS?" Madame shrieked when she saw the book. "Tis a book, and it's quite lovely......" "Are you stealing from me you filthy swine?" Madame asked, as she grabbed a handful of Winter's long black hair and looked her sharply in the eyes. Winter's grey blue eyes widened and she shook her head. "Then WHERE did you get this?" "The library." Winter muttered. "What was that?" "The library!" Winter said louder. Madame put her hand against her chest and gasped dramatically, "So you have been stealing from me!" "I was only borrowing it." "Don't you talk back to me!" Madame ranted, "Just like your mother you are! No respect for other people's property!" "Tis a library!" Winter protested, "No one ever goes in there! Those books are meant to be shared!" Madame's nostrils flared. She grabbed the book and smacked Winter upside the head with it.” Go bird scarin!" She fumed. "But that's for the young'ins!" Winter complained. She didn't want to be the only twelve year old in the field! Bird scarers were children hired to run through the fields to scare away birds. It might sound fun, but it was mighty embarrassing for anyone older than ten. "Don't you ‘but’ me young lady and get o' move on!" Madame smacked Winter again. Winter sighed and ran for the field. Normally she was a laundress like her mama, but today there was no work for her so she had been sent away to dust. She had wandered into the library and couldn't help but rub her fingers along the spines, until she came to one that made her fingers tingle all the more. It was a book call Romeo and Juliet. The author was William Shakespeare, and Winter had been enjoying it. As Winter approached the Hill she hiked up her skirt and climbed to the top. The top of the Hill looked out over the wheat fields, and from where she was, Winter could see all the way to the Manor, nestled on the edge of the forest, on the other side. Tiny slaves worked in the fields, almost ready for harvest. Mount Celia rose ominously up behind the Manor, grey mist swirling at its peak. Madame's son, Christopher, rode his roan in the Meadow, heading back from the pine forest. It was getting late in the day, and the sky was bleached pink and gold. Winter slid down the Hill and raced towards the fields.