ORVAtainment A literary magazineA literary magazineA literary magazineA literary magazine For the Oregon Virtual AcademyFor the Oregon Virtual AcademyFor the Oregon Virtual AcademyFor the Oregon Virtual Academy

Illustra�on by Alexandra Marchon

About this publica�on

This is a publica�on featuring

work from students who a�end

the Oregon Virtual Academy.

Students help produce two publi-

ca�ons—including the ORVAgoni-

an which is a newspaper—and

ORVAtainment, a literary maga-

zine.

Students in grades 6-8 may have

their work featured in these

monthly publica�ons. Join the

ORVAgonian student club to get

updates and informa�on about

how to par�cipate.

For more informa�on about par�cipa�ng in student publi-

ca�ons, contact your homeroom teacher or ORVAgonian

and ORVAtainment advisor Cynthia Dauer.

February Student Contributors

Megan Baird

Ryan Breitmeyer

Caitlyn Ga0

Alexandra Marchon

Madeline Mixer

Rachel Negron

Aidan Rashleigh

Emme� Rashleigh

Emma Sewell

Hannah Smith

Jasmine Smith

Jordan Thibodeaux

Gavin Young

A Queen

named Mable

By Ryan Breitmeyer

There once was a queen named Mable,

Who swung through her castle on a cable.

She had a table that was able

To swing ol’ queen Mable,

In her coat that was made out of sable.

Prison

By Rachel Negron

A stranger knocked upon the door

He said, “Let me come in”

But the princess was hidden deep within

“Alas!” She cried, “Alas for me!”

“I love my prison, and cannot be free.”

Masks, Masks,

Dancing in the dark

He wants to be my friend

She wants to be my mother

And you want to convince me I’m beautiful

A wild, airy song

A broken memory

Masks, lies

The wisps of days gone past

The darkness crowds in

What is ayour song?

What is behind your mask?

What is your truth, stranger?

`tá~á`tá~á`tá~á`tá~á Uç etv{xÄ Uç etv{xÄ Uç etv{xÄ Uç etv{xÄ axzÜÉÇaxzÜÉÇaxzÜÉÇaxzÜÉÇ

The air whistled in my ears as I leaped, turn-

ing a somersault on the way down just to an-

noy my brother – he s�ll can’t do that. Water

exploded around me, a whirlwind clear and

cold. I gasped, exhilara�on flashing through

me, blood rushing in my ears.

I reached the surface just in �me to hear

him call “Show-off!” as he ran away. I grinned

and stuck out my tongue at his receding back.

Suddenly something glinted in the corner of

my eye – what was that? I turned around,

frowning, but I couldn’t see anything. Must

have been the sun glancing of the water. I

went back to – and there! I whirled around – it

had been by the rock! I saw it!

But it was gone again. I turned my head –

and it was back. Looked at the rock – gone.

Looked away – back.

I stepped to the rock to inves�gate, but my

foot slipped on a moss-covered rock and –

crap – I fell into the water face-first.

And there it was! I could see it clear as day –

something was glowing, where the rock

touched the water. I kicked toward it with

growing curiosity. It was a sort of blue light –

glow-in-the-dark algae? Or fish? As I got closer

I realized it was shining through a crack – was

there a cave in the rock? No, don’t be silly.

I surfaced, took a deep breath of air, dived,

and looked through the crack.

There really was a cave, there, fading into

darkness, but I couldn’t tell you how big it was.

It sort of faded away into shadows. And just a

foot or two away, lying on the floor, was a gi-

ant pile of glowing rocks.

No, really. There must have been fiBy of

them. They were about the size of a coffee

mug each, vaguely oval. They were blue – or

maybe white. Or green. They shone with a

light from inside, a strange kind of light that

itched in my eyes and my brain in a way I can’t

describe. I couldn’t even focus on them

properly, or tell what color they were. But

somehow – and I couldn’t tell you how – they

looked like crystallized water. And not the nor-

mal tap-water kind – the kind in the swimming

The Egg

By Alexandra Marchon

hole, full of life and ever-changing. Something

shot through me – I needed to touch them. To

hold them. Suddenly I needed it like I needed

air.

I went up for air, then dived again. I reached

through the crack and tried to grab a rock, but

I couldn’t reach. I strained – almost – but I

couldn’t reach –

I made a split-second decision and squeezed

my head through – then my other arm – then

my en�re torso. It was stupid. I knew that – I

could get stuck and drown. I groped – and

touched! My fingers curled around a rock and I

pulled back, my lungs already screaming for

air.

It didn’t work. I was stuck. No. Nononono!

Come on! Move! I pushed, figh�ng panic, wig-

gling – the rock cut into my skin and my sun-

burned back – I screamed, bubbles uselessly

fading away into the darkness above me –

tried to catch them, useless – the dark in the

corner of the cave was - the darkness was

moving in on me, flowing like water – no, come

on – I can’t die! I can’t drown! – and my arms

were in the darkness I couldn’t feel them

couldn’t move them - the dark was rising up,

up to my chin, up to my mouth, my nose –

can’t move – covering my eyes – no – no –

black –

I sucked in a huge breath of air. The sun

flared into my eyes – what? I was standing on

the bank, almost dry. What had just hap-

pened? I remembered drowning – and glowing

rocks. Was that just a hallucina�on? There was

no glint of light, no glowing crack in the rock.

Just the swimming hole I’d known for years.

“Caitlin! We were wai�ng for you! What

were you doing?” I turned around – my broth-

er was standing there, an annoyed expression

on his face. “Nothing…” I said, unsure.

“Well, come on already.” As we jogged back

to the car, I decided it must have been some

kind of weird hallucina�on – maybe when I fell

I hit my head on the rocks and dreamed it. Yes,

that must have been it. I’d probably get a huge

bump on my head.

Dinner was spaghe0 with tomato sauce –

my dad makes the best tomato sauce on the

planet. I didn’t tell them about the rock, s�ll

unsure what had happened.

It was later, at night, when I heard a sound.

Tock. Tock, tocktocktock. I whirled around,

wary. Tock. It was coming from the shower.

Tock tock tock. I carefully opened the door,

seeing only the old clothes I’d worn at the

swimming hole. They were hanging from the

shower curtain rod to dry, s�ll dripping a li�le.

tocktockTOCK. Dread swirling inside me, I real-

ized – my pants pocket – or whatever was in it

– was glowing. I reached in, knowing what I’d

find. It was the rock, glowing with a beau�ful

blue light. It was sort of crystalline, with jagged

rocky edges, like an uncut jewel, but not trans-

parent. And it was making that noise. TOCK-

TOCKTOCKTOCK clonk clonk CRACK.

And suddenly I realized – it wasn’t a rock.

It was an egg.

And I watched, astonished, as the baby

creature, as blue and beau�ful as its egg,

crawled out….

It was a sunny spring day in March

of 2009 and Shasta was about to have her

baby foal and everyone was excited. Earli-

er that year another foal was born in the

barn named Ligh-ng. It was given that

name because he had a ligh-ng pa.ern on

his forehead.

So when Shasta had her baby and

they saw it was a colt, they decided to

name this one Thunder. Thunder was a

bay colt with a li.le white spot between

his eyes on his face. He was growing

mighty well. Then when he was six

months old his mother passed away. It

was hard on him losing his mother at such

a young age and he never grew quite as

big as he should have. Thunder was s-ll

loved by everyone in the barn.

Years had passed and Thunder had

not really been worked with or ridden.

The barn that owned him put him up for

sale.

Now Elizabeth was a young girl

By Megan Baird

Thunder

and Elizabeth

looking for a pony to train and keep for

her niece and for her to ride on the

side.

All of a sudden Thunder came

up on her search and at that moment

she fell in love! He was so cute and it

sounded like he would be perfect! The

picture was of a small brown fluffy po-

ny. He looked like a life size stuffed po-

ny!

Elizabeth talked to her mother

and asked nicely to call the barn. She

called the barn that owned him and

asked to come and see him also to ask

more ques-ons about him. They talked

for what seemed like forever. Eliza-

beth couldn’t wait to see him in per-

son.

Thunder was an Arabian Quar-

ter Horse cross. Elizabeth had previ-

ously had an Arabian Welsh Pony that

had passed away and she was heart-

broken a8er that. But now seeing

Thunder she thought just maybe this

could be her horse. Her horse that she

could ride and take care of. Her horse

that she would love and not let any-

thing happen to.

The next week Elizabeth and

her mother met with the owner to

look at Thunder and Elizabeth knew

there was no way she was not ge:ng

this pony. She loved his personality

and look. She loved the way he

wrapped his head around her body

and gave her a pony hug.

Elizabeth went home that day

and never stopped thinking about

Thunder. Later that week she picked

Thunder up. She was so happy she just

loved him! She worked with him all

summer long.

Elizabeth could see that Thun-

der was improving each and every day.

At the end of the summer she entered

him in his first show. They did the low-

est division, trot a pole and they were

so excited. Thunder worked hard at

listening to Elizabeth and to not let the

large crowd and strange horses worry

him. He trusted and loved Elizabeth as

much as she loved him.

They placed first in the class!

Elizabeth can’t wait to see what’s in

store for them next!

THIS STORY IS HISTORICAL FICTION.

IT IS SET IN 2 DIFFRENT TIMES IN THE

PAST 2 CENTURIES. THIS IS BEING

WRITTEN IN THE VIEW OF SOME

DUDE WHO VISITED THE PORTLAND

TUNNELS IN '69.

I was down in the portland tun-

nels. I had been walking since dawn

and it was ge0n' 'bout lunch �me so

I decided to find a cavern off the

main line. Well I found one and it

was nice and dry so I found some

stones and sat down. Then it hap-

pened. First the lights flashed on-of-

on-off-on-off-on. Then finally off

then a ghost appeared. Ahote

Apenimon Akecheta, I discovered

later. I could tell he was an Indian

because he had a ta�oo of a restless

fighter and on top of it he had

ta�ooed trustworthy. He also had

reddish brown skin. He talked in his

own tongue but I knew what he was

sayin' somehow. He said Klahowya,

the Chinook word for hello, and in-

troduced himself as Ahote Apenimon

Akecheta. Then he asked what year

it was. I told him that it was 1969. He

said last he knew it was 1912, before

we joined the great war. I asked him

when he was born and he said 1763,

then he said that he died in 1826. I

asked him to tell the story of his

death and what had happened since

then.

He said, "I was going to the store

for some flour. All of the sudden I

saw 2 guys walking towards a hole

and then they climbed in I went over

to look around and then they

grabbed me. I tried to get to my

knife but they had to �ght of a grip.

Later we went in to this very room.

when they were talking about how

much they would get for me I

jumped 'em. I thought I knocked 'em

out but one was only stunned, when

I thought it was safe I sat down

where you are to catch my breath.

then the stunned one started cursing

me and before I knew what hap-

pened I had been shot with a revolv-

er twice. Once in the shoulder the

other in my leg. For a second or two

there was no pain then enough pain

to cripple even the strongest of men,

then I let out a blood curdlin'

scream.

I said, “like in the older movies

like Dracula or something like that?”

He asked what that was. I said never

mind, lets get back to the story.

“They got so scared by that they

shot me again, that �me in the

shoulder and then they ran. aBer

that I was only alive for a second.

ABer that when ever someone

comes and disturbs those rocks yer

si0n' on I come back to tell my sto-

ry.”

Then he vanished to heaven

knows where. Then the lights came

back on. ABer that experience I sat

there for a minute. ABer I realized

what had happened and the �me it

was, I let out a blood curdling scream

in the dead of night. It was 10:30pm

once the ghost disappeared. ABer

that I got out of there like a shot.

That just 'bout sums it up.

THE PORTLAND TUNNELS ARE REAL.

THEY WERE USED FOR SHANGHAI.

SHANGHAI MEANS TO GRAB PEOPLE

OR KIDNAP THEM TO BE USED OR

SOLD AS SLAVES. THEY WERE USED

IN THE 1800'S. THE TUNNELS ARE

OPEN TO THE PUBLIC AND THERE

ARE TOURS THROUGH THEM. I APOL-

OGIZE IF THIS STORY HAS SCARED

YOU BUT IT IS A GHOST STORY AFTER

ALL. IF YOU DECIDE TO USE THE STO-

RY TO TELL AS A CAMPFIRE STORY I

APPRECIATE IT. I HOPE YOU HAVE

ENJOYED THE STORY AS MUCH AS I

HAVE WRITING IT. THIS IS MY FIRST

GHOST STORY.

The

Tunnel

By Gavin Young

Journey to the Center of

Minecraftia

A Fictional Story by: Ryan Breitmeyer

Chapter 2: Discovery!

Whatwillthey�indnext?Whatwilltheydonext?Findoutnexttime

on‘JourneytotheCenterofMinecraftia’!

“Arewethereyet?”Serenaasked.

Serenahadaskedthisquestion5times

before.Onceevery15secondsit

seemed.

“Almost..”Echosaidannoyed,“Just

amereminuteofwalkingleft.”

JustasEchosaidthat,theywere

there,itwasabeautytobehold,awa-

terfallpouringoutofthewalltomake

theriverbeforethem.Aroundtheriver

wasgrassand�lowersofpurpleand

yellowandred,ohmy!Thetreesthere

werebeautiful.Thewoodseemedtobe

thereforawhile,becausethetreeshad

mossandvinesallaroundthem.And

thiswasallunderground!

“Wooaah…”Theyallsaidinamaze-

ment,

“Echo…Weneedtoexploremoreof

thiscave!”Serenaexclaimed.

JeffandEchoagreedandtheyall

decidedtoexploremoreofthecave.

Littledidtheyknowwhattheywould

�indnext.

The Six Realities Chapter Two:

Escape

By Aidan Rashleigh

With a thud I was thrown into an ice cold dun-

geon. I heard the cell door slam behind me. I sat

up and looked around. It was dark, but I was

pre�y sure the walls were made of ice. The floor

must have been made of stone because it was

hard and dusty. I felt weak and red. I closed my

eyes for just a second and fell asleep.

I was woken up by a sound. It seemed to come

from the corner of the cell. I looked closely I could

almost make out a figure… but I couldn’t. Right

now I should have been playing video games. It

was Saturday. Saturday was the day that I always

took my seven hour bubble bath, and this Satur-

day was the day of the ‘Cat and Lobster Show.’ I’d

missed it last year because I was chasing Quinn

around the world. I just couldn’t miss it this year!

“Mr. Guard! I’m missing the Cat and Lobster

show because of you!” I yelled angrily.

There was no reply, but I had to watch that

show no ma�er what.

“I don’t care if you miss some dog and…”I inter-

rupted the guard.

“It’s the Cat and Lobster show, got it!”

“As I was saying,” said the guard, “I don’t care if

you miss the show and by the way you have a visi-

tor. He can’t wait to see you.”

Then guard came over unlocked the cage and

led me to an arena. There was someone wai ng

for me. I immediately recognized who it was.

“Ben! Why are you here?” I shouted. Ben flexed

his muscles. “Someone named something like

Aden told me that you’d ruin my life if I didn’t de-

stroy you!” Ben roared. “Cool,” I said hal6eartedly

as looked around at the thousands of goblins

wai ng happily for us to fight. This would be a

show they would never forget.

I charged Ben fists outstretched, then BAM!

Ben nailed me in the gut. I shouted in pain and fell

to the ground. The goblins all clapped with amaze-

ment. Next Ben grabbed me off the ground, li9ed

me up, and drop-kicked me to the other side of

the arena. I slammed into the wall. I tried to get

up but my arm had been busted when I was drop-

kicked. I could feel the vibra ons as Ben walked

up behind me to deliver the finishing blow. Sud-

denly I heard the goblins in the crowd screaming. I

looked up and I saw Ben running off then I looked

over to the goblins. Six foot tall purple pears carry-

ing swords were chasing them away. The snow

goblins and purple pears had been blood enemies

since the beginning of me.

With a lot of effort I managed to get up and

stagger to a door. The door led to a series of stair

cases. Once I got down the staircases I found a

pedestal with a sword in it, but this sword was no

ordinary sword. This one was made of Ice. En-

graved upon the hilt of the sword were these

words

Â[x ã{É ÜxáàÉÜxá à{|á áàÉÇx yÜÉÅ à{x ÑxwxáàtÄ ã|ÄÄ uÜ|Çz utÄtÇvx àÉ à{x á|å ÜxtÄ|à|xá..” I couldn’t make out what it said but I had want-

ed a sword so I tried pulling it out of the pedestal.

It came out with ease. As I was swinging it around

feeling full of myself a whip seized it out of my hand.

“CLANG” it hit the ground.

“You- you are,” I stu�ered, but was interrupted.

“Des ny Jones ac on hero and archeologist, I remem-

ber you. You were that kid who wanted your book signed

but forgot your book. And I see you have found the rea-

son I’m here.”

This was my hero, of the book series Adventures in

Time. I was speechless but I realized I should say some-

thing.

“I’m your biggest fan,” was the only thing I could say.

“Well duh, everyone is but that sword is the reason

I’m here. I’m not here to sign books for people who for-

get their books!” Des ny said sounding quite annoyed.

I handed her the sword without hesita ng. She looked

over the sword and stopped when she came to the

words.

“Did you pull this out of that pedestal?” Des ny asked.

I nodded then she handed the sword back to me “Well

then kid, I will accompany you on your quest.”

“What quest? And I can’t go on I quest with a busted

elbow” I replied.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t read the wri ng on the

sword” Des ny responded.

“Of course I didn’t. It’s in some foreign language” I said

sounding insulted.

“You mean cursive?” Des ny replied. “And it says ‘He

who restores this blade from the pedestal will bring bal-

ance to the six reali es,’ so if you really did pull the sword

from the pedestal you have to restore balance to the six

reali es.”

Just then the door broke off its hinges and a bunch of

purple pears led by a blue pear charged in.

“Time to make fruit salad” I mu�ered to myself. I

gripped my sword ghtly, and prepared to a�ack!

Pear juice spla�ered my face as I swung my

sword ruthlessly against the pear army. Then

WAM! My sword hit something tougher than pear

hide. It was the wall.

“Great!” I yelled. “This wall is in the wrong

Place.”

“Really?” asked Des ney.

“Yeah” I nodded.

Then a club came down on my head. I collapsed.

The blue pear was standing over me. I reached for

my sword but it was too far away to grab. The pear

swung his club down to smash my head like a water

melon-

___________( Suspense builds)_____________

right before it hit my head he froze. One of the

snow goblins had shot an arrow at him. Snow gob

lin arrows can freeze anything they touch. I sighed

with relief. I had just escaped death again. I

crawled out from under the frozen pear and

snatched up my sword from the ground.

I saw Des ny stabbing the last of the pears.

“Now that we are done with that lets get out of

here” she said out of breath from the fight. I nod

-ded in reply.

“I came to find that sword so I could fix the

space me portals” she told me.

“They have been wreaking havoc all over the

world. As far as I know we are in the first reality.

The pears we just fought are from the second reali

ty. That sword you have is the only thing that can

bring balance to them.”

“Is that a fact?” I asked. “Yes it is a fact Roy!”

When we made it out of the snow goblin palace

I was starving. “Are there any fast-food joints

around here?” I asked.

“No” Des ny responded. “But I’m starving” I com

-plained. “I’ve read lots of survival books, there lit

erally should be food all around us.” I

then walked over to a tree pulled off a branch and

chomped on it. “Have a bite, it’s an old Navaho

snack tree.” I said through my munching. Des ny

rolled her eyes in response.

“Maybe that’s not what your survival book was

talking about.” I ques oned. “maybe Roy!”

Des ny said sarcas cally. “You’re right,” I re

plied, “That’s probably not what your book was talk

ing about.”

We con nued walking down the mountain un l we

reached the summit.

“What’s the plan anyway?” I asked.

“The plan is to find out more about The Six Reali es.

Supposedly the ancient Maya had some sort of ar fact

that could allow a person to move through the reali es

freely. And that is why you have to go to air sta on or

whatever you call the place where people board planes,

airport, that’s it. Yes, you have to get to the airport so we

can get to South America. Here’s a taxi. I have my own

way of geDng there, so adios. I’ll see you in South Ameri-

ca.”

And with that Des ny was gone.

Photos by Hannah Smith

ByAlexandraMarchon

[Recording starts]

I don’t know. It just happened. Is that a recording thing? Yeah.

Okay, I’ll tell you. I’ll try… I don’t know, I’m just kind of mixed up

right now. [laughs hysterically] Everything’s…. I just lost my li�le

brother twice in a row, you know what I mean? And my mom –

I don’t know. Yeah, I get he wasn’t really my li�le brother, but I

s�ll loved him. I guess I might be shock. I do think it hasn’t hit

me yet. I thought I wouldn’t tell you anything, but then… I

mean, you didn’t mean any harm. And since I’m representa�ve

of the human race… I don’t know. I should be nice. I don’t

know. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. [heavy breathing] Can I have a

drink of water? [pause] Thanks. So. The beginning. Yes.

I guess we no�ced when he was around two, and we found

Andrew playing with a lizard in the park. And I saw it, it was

dead or almost dead, all limp. It had blood on it. And Mom tried

to take it away from him, and it ran away, just like that. No

blood. He just looked at us with big eyes and dropped the liz-

ard, and it ran away.

When we went home, we just pretended it didn’t happen. Be-

cause it didn’t make sense. And Mom is the sort of person who

needs everything to make sense, so she just ignored all evi-

dence of his… talent. Especially aBer dad… yeah. Yeah, he died.

You know that, right? Oh. I guess I assumed you could just look

it up or something. Or something. I barely remember him. An-

drew was born nine months aBer he died. Oh god. I just real-

ized – \\he wasn’t actually my dad’s son, you know what I

mean? Well, I guess… yeah, he couldn’t be, could he? I mean,

me and mom and dad are normal, and he’s… Okay. Back to the

story. So Mom ignored it all, but it got ever bigger, you know?

He’d wander off and we’d find him with a rabbit, or a cat or

something, and it looked dead but then it wasn’t. It peaked

when our dog got run over, you know? And she was dead. I saw

her. I was crying and he toddled over to her and touched her,

and said “Don’t cry, Towi” like that and she jumped up and

started licking my face. Towi, that’s what he called me, because

when he was li�le, cause he couldn’t pronounce Tori. My real

name’s Victoria. I don’t like it. I guess I wouldn’t be able to pro-

nounce your name even.

He does love me, you know. Whatever he is. It’s why he… did

whatever it was to our dog. The rest of the animals, I don’t

know, he might have hurt them, and only… healed them so we

didn’t no�ce. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know anything.

So anyway, there were other things too, like he could make

these li�le balls of blue light that made things move. He only

did that when there was nobody but me, and it’s not like any-

body would believe me. So I kept quiet. I thought he might have

superpowers, or maybe he was a wizard, you know, Harry

Po�er. Do you even know what Harry Po�er is? No. No, I didn’t

think of that. I guess I wanted to believe he was human, or

something close to human. And I knew, or I thought I knew, his

parents were humans, since they were my parents. So he could-

n’t be something else en�rely, I thought. So shoot me, I was

wrong.

The turning point was when I saw him do it on purpose. We

were walking home. From school, yeah. And then my mom

started talking with one of her friends, you know, blah blah, and

then he was gone again. Maybe he did something so we didn’t

no�ce. I don’t know. Is that possible? Anyway, I found behind

the school, and he was throwing his blue balls of light at a cat,

so it jerked back and forth. It didn’t look happy, not at all, but it

didn’t make noise at all, not even a whimper. Then there was a

crack, and it fell… I guess, yeah. He probably killed it. Is that a

big thing for you people, I guess? Are you okay? Stupid ques-

�on. And then he was going to pick it up, and I must have made

noise… or that I guess. Wow. [giggles hysterically] He was pre�y

powerful then…. But not as powerful as you. I guess it makes

sense, if he’s telepathic… if you’re all telepathic. So why didn’t

he no�ce me before then?

I didn’t know that. I didn’t know you can get addicted to pain. I

mean, sadism, I guess. Or the other thing… masochism. But not

like that. But I guess it’s different for you.

Andrew

But he saw me, and his eyes went blue… yeah, his eyes are

blue. But not that blue. What is it with blue and you people

anyway? Is everything blue where you live or what? So he

ran away. He did love us. He didn’t want us to know. It hurt

him. I could see it. And he was gone, and we couldn’t find

him, none of us. And we called a search party and every-

thing… that probably isn’t important. You just want to know

about Andrew, I guess. Or whatever his name really is. So

the next we heard of him was on the news. It was world

news, because it made no sense. None of this makes sense,

you know that? But there was this building, and it was emp-

ty, apparently they were going to demolish it soon, and he

was on the roof, toddling around. And of course everyone

wanted to get him, because he’s adorable and young and

maybe he made them want to get him too. I don’t know.

But there was this invisible wall around it, so if anyone tried

to get within a foot or so, it flared blue and pushed whoever

it was back. They tried it with a fire truck, you know that? It

just bounced back. And then CNN showed up, and I don’t

know, Fox News and a million other TV sta�ons and people

with cameras and cars with huge antennae and Mom and I

rushed there, but there wasn’t anything we could do at all,

just stand there and watch and sob. And only I knew that he

could make blue light like that, but when I tried to tell them

they laughed. And they didn’t believe me. And I knew I had

to try… I had to get to him. He loved me, you know? He real-

ly did. And I managed to get to the wall – and I yelled to him,

and he came to the edge, and he was angry at me. But he did

love me, and I think I knew he was smarter than a four-year-

old should be, that I had to treat him like… I don’t know, an

adult. And this door opened for me. The reporters all sort of

backed up, and I went through this blue door, and closed

right behind me. Then he liBed me up to the roof, and he

looked sad and angry together, and I wanted to hold him so

bad, but then I got liBed up and he… I think he did the same

thing as with the cat. He made me move or something. I

don’t know if it hurt. I don’t remember anything aBer that.

When I woke up I was on the top of the building, and there

was police everywhere, and they tried to keep me. But I ran

to him… he was facing this en�re huge army. It had tanks

and everything. I don’t know what he did, while I was gone,

but it seemed like there were thousands of people there. It

looked so silly, this one li�le boy against all of them. Unless

you looked too closely at his eyes. And I didn’t have �me to

do anything. And then you came.

I guess you know the rest. [pause] Okay then. I guess I’ll tell

you. I don’t know. So you came, in your ships. They shone

blue, and landed all around him. And then he looked afraid,

and something in me – I think it was in all of us – it wanted to

run to him, to protect him so bad. I think he did that. And

something else smashed into that feeling –that must have

been you – that just went like Stay s�ll. Don’t interfere. Al-

most in words. ABer that you fought with him. I don’t know

what that was. It just looked like blue lightning and fire eve-

rywhere, so we could barely see anything, un�l you stopped,

and he was in blue-light chains. And he went inside one of

the ships, your ships. And then one of you came out, and

flickered before turning into a human in a business suit. And

you went like I’m sorry. And explained everything. How he

was a rogue, how he was sick somehow, and it’s why he hurt

us and stuff. And that you had mental and physical powers

and technology beyond ours and that you could make us

forget but you wouldn’t because it isn’t fair, or something

like that. You said it telepathically, didn’t you? Like now.

Yeah, like that. And I couldn’t think at all somehow. I just

went like Andrew’s an alien. Andrew’s an alien. That rhymes.

No it doesn’t. It’s what. Allitera�ve. Something like that.

[hysterically]Andrew’s an alien! Why do you need a record-

ing anyway? You won’t be on the recording, probably. I

mean, I’m the only one making actual sound waves around

here. [hysterical giggles] And don’t you have perfect memory

or something? Yeah. Back to the story. Okay. Anyway, aBer

you said you needed a witness, and somehow you made me

come out of the crowd and walk into the spaceship thing, up

the stairs and next thing I remember I was here. But you

know that.

So am I free now? Do I just… I just go? Pretend nothing ever

happened? I don’t know. I don’t know.

So I walk out the door and I’m home? That doesn’t make

sense. It doesn’t make sense. I have a ques�on – please. Can

I see him one more �me? No! He wouldn’t hurt me. He

wouldn’t. I just want to see him. I don’t care if you can’t pro-

tect me, he won’t hurt me. Please? I won’t blame you. I

helped. I told you things. Can’t you send the recording to the

other humans or something? Then they won’t blame you. I

don’t know. [pause] Thank you. Thank you. I know he won’t

hurt me. Thank you.

[steps]

Andrew! Andrew – I wanted to – [sound of screams]

[silence]

[recording ends]

Alexa In Wonderland

By Emma Sewell

Prologue Alexa was quiet. She was staring down the small present her mother had given her. "Go on Alexa, you can open it now." Alice's soothing voice whispered. Alexa crawled toward the box, and proceeded to open it. Strips of wrapping paper glis-tened in the sunlight, as her small hands tore through the box like a wild animal tearing through the flesh of its prey. Lay-ing in the ruins of where the present was a small, white stuffed rabbit. Alexa could not resist the toy. With its pinkish red button eyes and tiny waistcoat, it looked like a little gentleman. Alexa's father, Harold, was concerned. "Alice, we do not want to stuff her head with rubbish!" he grumbled, mut-tering under his breath. Alice ignored his comment and watched hopefully at Alexa's round mid-night blue eyes. "Someday, you will see, Alexa."

Chapter 1 "Mom, my hair is fine!" Alexa squealed in protest as Alice quietly combed her hair. Alice simply replied " Alexa dear, your hair is completely mangled again. You're

going to get a headache!" Alexa groaned, but kept quiet for a while. She knew she couldn't overpower her mother. The wom-en sat still for the trip. Alice was fiddling with her fingers, nervous and excited at the same time for what would happen. Alexa was stretching her arms, looking out the window at the quiet pasture, where her destiny lay ahead. She already knew what was going on. Every generation of female Kingsley's went through this. A rich man would ask to be their husband. No problem at all. Alexa secretly hoped

the mystery man would be sick or the party rained out, anything to delay the proposal. The carriage went by the house, skidding to a stop. Alice and Alexa stepped out onto the gleaming gravel that lay before them. While Alice walked off to meet the parents, Alexa sneaked toward the front and gave the kind-ly old man a big tip. He said his thanks, tipped his hat, and disappeared into the shadow of the forest. Alexa looked at the sky. There was not a cloud to be seen. Her hopeful thoughts went away. The man was standing about 12 feet away, chatting with some ladies from the south. The man looked charming, with his cropped orange hair and finely made suit. No, she wouldn't marry him. There was NO WAY she would ever marry him! Still, he turned his head and saw her. “Ah, how delightful for you to be here, Miss Alexa!" he bowed, like a good gentle-man should." Shall we waltz?" She couldn't decide, so she shrugged. He toke her hand and whisked her onto the dance floor. Luckily, Alexa knew the waltz, so nothing went wrong. "Um, what is your name, good sir?" she asked politely. "It's Harry, Miss Alexa." he replied. She couldn't help but giggle. When the dance was over, Alexa asked "Harry? Could I take a break? I'm quite tired." She then grabbed her fan and began to fan it over her head, showing that she was tired. Harry nodded, then walked away to talk with his mother. Alexa ran into the small rose maze in the

garden. She sat down in a small grove of white roses. "Wow, that boy was as dull as a pencil!" she giggled once more. Suddenly there a flash of white in the distance. As the white figure slowed down, Alexa's eyes widened to the size of teacups. It was just like the stuffed rabbit she had since she was little! This time, it was real. She started to follow the strange creature until it hopped into a hole in the ground, which she guessed was his home.

"Hello?" she said into the hole, her voice echoing through. She wouldn't go in, not if it didn't have a bottom. Alexa toke out a small dime out of her pocket, and dropped it. Leaning toward the hole, she listened for a thud. There wasn't. 'Maybe it was far and had not reached the ground quite yet.' she thought. Leaning in closer, she over a loose tree root and fell.

Chapter 2 Alexa screamed, her voice echoing through the hole. So far, her only question was 'how did this dirt hole not collapse yet?'. She sped up, faster and faster and faster. Alexa closed her eyes tightly, as the wind whistled through her ears. Suddenly, she stopped. There was a delightful thump, as she

opened her eyes. She spotted the rabbit, hopping quickly through the long hallway. "Mr. Rabbit, where are you going?" she shouted. The rabbit stopped for a moment, as if he heard the sound, but shook his head and continued on. Alexa face palmed herself. 'It probably doesn't even speak English, silly Alexa!' she thought. She chased him for a while, until the rabbit disappeared into a curtain. "Curiouser and curiouser! Where did that rabbit go?" she spoke. (sorry reader, you should have seen that coming! :D) Alexa then realized, 'There must be something behind that curtain. After all, the rabbit disappeared just a bit ago.' She slowly tip toed over to the bright red curtain. And, lo and behold, there was a door with a shiny brass doorknob. But it was locked.

The Lost Land of Cerrejón :

Ba.le of the Titans

Back on the river, I assumed that I had

taken my share of attacks by wild animals. I

was sadly mistaken. We had hardly gone a

mile before a huge serpentine head rose out

of the water.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” I

screamed. (I’d done that more and more of-

ten lately.) The massive serpent hissed. I

screamed again.

It was Titanoboa, the very snake my un-

cle had come to South America to find. The

prehistoric serpent must have entered

through the time-space wormhole I had

come to find. The animal had the coloration

of the green anaconda, one of my favorite

snakes, but was about sixty feet long, and as

wide as a manhole. A manhole that I could

easily fit through, and end up being slowly

digested for who knows how long- No. I

shook my head. I needed to concentrate, use

every moment to my best advantage.

“Hey,” I said. “Frederica! Believe in

wormholes now?”

She glared. Well, after I got that off my

mind, I shouted, “RUN!” I jumped out of

the boat into the murky waters of the Ama-

zon River and swam for my life.

In retrospect, jumping into the river was

probably not the best thing I could have

done. I could have fought off the snake he-

roically. I could have distracted it long

enough for my friends to escape. Instead, I

leapt into one of most dangerous rivers in

the world. Not to bore you with facts con-

cerning the many forms of life in the river

that could kill me, just let me say: I was as

doomed as a-a- a thing that is really

By Emme� Rashleigh

doomed.

I swam, rather upset by the poor visibility.

As for as I knew, I could be swimming above

anything, ancient ruins, giant microwave din-

ners, huge crocodiles, and who knows what

else. I dove, partly to satisfy my curiosity, partly

to try to avoid the attention of the Titanoboa. I

tried to scream, but I had mysteriously lost my

voice. All that came out of my mouth was a em-

barrassing “Squeak!” For emerging from the

shadows was a monstrous crocodile.

I squeaked again and tried to get out of way,

but the fearsome reptile ignored me; it was after

a bigger prize, Titanoboa itself. As the two

predators swam towards each other I swam back

to the canoes. “Frederica,” I said, “Five bucks

says Titanoboa wins.” She smiled. “You’re on.”

I knew that victory for Titanoboa hinged on

it being able to constrict its crocodilian foe. The

crocodile would spin in the water, attempting to

drown the serpent, unaware that most snakes

can hold their breath just as long as crocs. I had

seen a similar battle take place in on the Nile,

between a Nile crocodile and an African rock

python. Usually, the python won. I just hoped,

for the sake of my five dollars, that the same

would happen here.

The Titanoboa reared up; the croc seized its

opportunity and snapped at it. The snake dove

into the water and the crocodile followed suit.

To be honest, I was sort of disappointed. There

was some underwater thrashing, but it was all

over pretty quickly. The great serpent emerged

from the water with the crocodilian in its coils.

As the great serpent began to swallow its one

time foe we tried to navigate past. After having

Frederica pay up on the bet, I noticed Cindy

crying.

“What’s wrong, I said, feeling cocky.

“Never seen something like that before?”

Actually, knowing Cindy, I figured that she

smudged her lipstick or something.

“Biscuit,” she howled, “My, l-l-like, darling,

cute little Chihuahua is GONE!!!” I had sort of

guessed that the dog would die at some point.

After all, you don’t just take a tiny mammal in

to the Amazon. Still, I pretended to be sympa-

thetic.

“Gee,” I said. “That’s just too bad.”

“Yeah, said Tessa, “you, like, only bought it

to, like, totally match your purse. It’s not like, it

was important or anything. At least you didn’t,

like, lose what’s left of our make-up.”

“Like, HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT!?!?!”

Cindy was screaming, “All you even, like, care

about is make-up, and accessories, and whether

boys like you! You’re anti-fair! IF YOU DID-

N’T, LIKE, GET THE NEWSFLASH, TESSA,

THERE’S MORE TO LIFE THEN THAT!”

Even Frederica, who was supposed to know

them well, was shocked by Cindy’s outburst.

“Cindy,” she started. Cindy turned on her

next. “Don’t, like, even get started, Fred! You

don’t even, like, know anything! All you do is

ooh and aah over bugs and stuff, and- and…”

Cindy broke into tears. I was appalled. She

didn’t say ‘like’ in her last sentence.

Tessa apparently shared my surprise. Her mouth

was just hanging open, trying to say something

but not really accomplishing anything. It was

difficult to resist the desire to throw mud in her

mouth.

I could have just plopped some in, but in-

stead I said: “Um, uh, well, I guess...” I didn’t

really say anything. Kipper too as shocked, but

handled the situation better than I did. “Girls,

girls, we’re all friends here. Cindy, I’m sure

Tessa didn’t mean anything. And Tessa, I’m

sure Cindy just isn’t mentally stable right now,

that’s all.”

Cindy and Tessa started to nod. Just then,

something, very special, almost magical, hap-

pened. One of those poisoned arrows hit me in

the stomach. “Oh, come on,” I sighed.

Author’s note: I still can’t decide if I meant the

battle between Titanoboa and the crocodile as

‘The Battle of the Titans’, or the just as danger-

ous battle between Tessa and Cindy. You de-

cide!

© 2014 Emmett Rashleigh All Rights Reserved

There was once a rabbit named Bun

Buns. One day in her house, Bun Buns

said “I want to make a friend. I always

see other rabbits together.”

Bun Buns decided to go out and make some friends. So she leB her rabbit hole

and went to make a friend.

She saw a group of li�le bunnies together. She decided she would say hi.

Hi. My name is Bun Buns. Do you want to be my friends?” she asked.

They said “No.”

So she went along and asked more bunnies to be her friend but they all said no.

Then a li�le turtle saw her.

The turtle said “Hi. My name is Fiona. Want to be my friend?”

Bun Buns said “Yes. I will be your friend!” And they played all day long everyday

and were best friends forever.

The Rabbit

By Madeline Mixer

Hello my name is Rose Smith and this is my story of

how I got trapped in The Hunger Games.

It all started as a normal day (doesn't it always). I was

reading Mockingjay and listening to music, when the radio

stopped working. I no�ced a strange crack on the wall

behind the radio. When I touched it (like anyone would)

there was a weird glow, but that was all that happened so

I went back to my book. Li�le did I know that this was not

the end. ABer I finished Mockingjay I went to look at the

crack in the wall, and it was glowing again, but then my

mom called me to dinner so I didn't find out why it was

glowing. I went to bed as I normally do, but when I woke

up I found myself in a different room.

"What, where am I?" I said.

"Katniss are you okay? You're at home, like always." A

young blond girl said. Ah! Of course, this is one of those

dreams where you end up in another world; I probably

should go along with it. Oh, that girl must be Primrose;

what does Katniss call her? Prim! That's her nickname.

"Yeah Prim, I'm okay. I just had a strange dream." I re-

plied.

"Oh, okay Katniss. Are you going for one of your

walks?" She must mean hun�ng! "If you are, then you

be�er be careful, it's reaping day."

"Don't worry I will. How about you go and see if Gale

wants to come." I said, as an idea popped into my head.

"Okay! I will Katniss." She said happily. I got dressed

quickly, because she would be back soon. Ah! Here she is

now, with Gale.

"Hey Catnip, how are you?" Gale said, using his nick-

name for Katniss, as we walked.

"Good, what about you Gale?" I replied.

"I'm okay, considering what day it is today," He said

sadly.

"Oh yeah, how many �mes is your name in now for the

reaping," I asked.

"My name is in about forty five �mes today," He said

quietly

"Oh I'm sorry Gale, but at least it's not one of your sib-

lings. I don't know what I would do if sweet, gentle Prim

was chosen," I said.

"Wow, we are here already, that was quick," He said,

changing the subject.

"Yeah, that was fast, Gale, let's go," I replied, knowing

he did not want to talk about it anymore, and ducked un-

der the fence. "Well, come on." When we finished hun�ng

we can start talking again.

"Gale, there's something important I have to tell you," I

said to him.

"What is it Catnip?" He asked worriedly.

"I'm not Katniss. My name is Rose Smith," I said.

"WHAT!!??"

Rose Smith and the Hunger Games

By Caitlyn Ga0

THE ART OF ALCHEMY

BY EMMETT RASHLEIGH

Part One

Chapter One: The Saturday Market That

Wasn’t Actually on Saturday

“So tell me again, why exactly are we here?” Quinton Flicker

had been dragged all over downtown Portland by his cousin

Taylor looking for a ‘Sunday Market..’ Taylor sighed. “If you weren’t such a moron you would

have remembered that ad I got in the mail.”

Quinton squinted, trying to remember. “Yeah, um, wasn’t

that for multi vitamins, or laser liposuction or something?”

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I don’t believe you’re

a member of my gene pool, Q. You are such a- a,” She tried to

find a word that would sum up everything that was wrong

with Quinton. “An idiot!” she finished lamely.

Quinton smiled. “’An idiot,” he said trying unsuccessfully

to imitate her. “I thought you would do better than that. Really

Taylor, you’re starting to lose it.” “Like you should have remembered,” Taylor continued, “I

got an ad from some wood turner that claims he has some,

‘exquisite’ pieces.” Quinton sighed. He should have remem-

bered; Taylor had been talking about it nonstop for days.

“Anyway,” said Taylor, “I think this is exactly what I’ve been

waiting for.”

Now it was Quinton’s turn to roll his eyes. “I thought that

magic potion kit on E-Bay was what you were ‘waiting for’.

Remember what happened? It was a dud!”

Taylor scowled. “I thought we agreed never to talk about

that again! It took months to get the green out of my hair! This time is different though. This time, I’m going to know if this

works before I buy it.”

Quinton rolled his eyes again. (They did that a lot in their

family.) Taylor had been obsessed with anything and every-

thing magical since she saw Harry Potter at the age of nine.

Even now, five years later, she would still get a look in her

eye like she had drunk a dozen espressos whenever she heard

the theme music to the movie. As she had begun to ‘acquire’

more money, she only became more driven to get her hands

on something with real power.

The pair finally came to the ‘Sunday Market’. Quinton

looked around at the vendors. “I thought this happened on Saturday. You know Saturday Market? Sunday Market

doesn’t have the same ring to it at all- ow! He had been inter-

rupted by a painful elbow to the back, courtesy of Taylor. So

he kicked Taylor in the shins. Then Taylor stomped on his

feet. So Quinton pulled her hair. Which made Taylor knee

him in the back. Because that’s what cousins do. Finally they

started to look for the vendor and his ‘exquisite’ work.

They found an older man behind racks of wooden rings,

bottle stoppers, etc. The man looked up. “Ah, you have ar-rived! How delightful.”

Taylor glanced over his wares before asking: “I thought I

would find something special here.”

The man smiled. “Of course, child, of course! I believe you

are looking for something, as you might say, ‘magical’?” Tay-

lor nodded.

“I must warn you,” she said, “that I doubt you have what

I’m looking for. What I don’t doubt is that you’re just trying

to make some quick bucks off me, although I’d welcome a

correction.”

The man smiled again. “He sure smiles a lot,” thought

Quinton. The man started to speak. “If I wanted to make a coin, I would peddle postcards to tourists.”

“Um, I don’t think there are many tourists here”- Quintin

was silenced by a kick to the shins. The man ignored the in-

terruption and continued.

“I assure you, all I will tell about my work is quite true.”

He lifted a five foot staff onto the table. The cousins bit back

an involuntary gasp. The staff was made of a deep black

wood, with intricate carvings of fierce lions tearing apart sol-

diers in medieval armor. The staff was topped by a pure black

sphere, held in place by four wooden claws projecting of the

trunk of the staff. If Quinton had to use one word to describe it, it would be-

“Awesome… in kind of a creepy way,” he said. “Sort of…

creepy-cool.”

Quinton’s awe was nothing compared to his cousin’s. Tay-

lor was completely transfixed. “It’s so… incredible...” She

sounded like she was in a trance. The man smiled.

“Again!” Thought Quinton. “Would he stop doing that?”

The man said, “The price is reasonable, especially when

you consider the craftsmanship, and the power.” The mention

of the word price snapped Taylor out of her daze.

“What is the price?” she asked nervously. “Only 99.99,” he

replied. Quinton looked at his cousin. On one hand, a hun-dred dollars was way too much to waste on a stick, but he

knew Taylor well. Looking at her, he saw how badly she

wanted, no, needed, the staff.

“Sold.” Quinton was shocked.

“Taylor, shouldn’t we think this over, maybe over a nice

latte, or an espresso, or a”- Taylor shook her head.

“Nope. My mind is made up, we’re buying this thing.” Quin-

ton was about to say ‘sure’ or ‘fine’, but then the meaning of

Taylor’s words hit: “Um, Taylor, You didn’t say ‘we’re’ buying

this are you? Because that means that I’ll be paying for it, or half

of it, or a third of it, or a fourth of”- Taylor interrupted him. “You’ll pay half; I’ll pay you back later.”

“Okay.”

Quinton was unsure why he was agreeing, considering Taylor

had recently kneed him in the back, and Taylor already owed him

a couple hundred dollars, but he was going to let her have the

fifty. Maybe it was because he thought the staff was cool, and he

could always claim ownership over it if Taylor didn’t repay him.

As Taylor gave the vendor the money, the man said: “This is

the Scepter of the Lions. It is originally from what is now known

as Ukraine.” The man leaned uncomfortably close to the cousins.

“Use it well,” he said,” or not at all.” Well, Quinton had no idea

what that could have meant, unless (of course) the old man didn’t want them to use the scepter because it was fake. He figured that

must be it, but naturally didn’t say anything to Taylor. He wanted

to enjoy this!

As the cousins made their way home, Quinton seemed to no-

tice various people staring at them. Another smiling old guy, a

fast food mascot, a kid on a bike, and a mysterious hooded man

in black- Quinton shook his head. He put it down to their new

scepter. The thing seemed to give him a bad feeling, that’s all.

Still, he was glad when they finally arrived at their apartment

building. Quinton almost broke into a run to the elevator. The

elevator was playing easy listening music. Quinton realized why so many people left the elevator angry. Heck, listening to some

dumb song about liking pina coladas and getting caught in the

rain right after a long day at work… Quinton could see why there

were so many fist fights outside the elevator.

“Um,” Quinton began. “What exactly will this thing do, Tay-

lor?”

Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said, “something magi-

cal, I guess.” Quinton smiled. He couldn’t wait to say, “Told you

so!”

The elevator finally arrived at the 32nd floor. “Uh oh,” thought

Quinton. Taylor’s mom, that is, his aunt, was playing some Tay-

lor Swift song. “M-o-o-ther,” Taylor whined. Her mom came out of the kitch-

en.

“Hey, honey. Hey, Q.” Taylor scowled.

“Mom,” she said, “How many times do I need to tell you? I

don’t like Taylor Swift! I hate her, I abhor her, I detest her, I

loathe her, I despise her, I abominate her!” Mrs. Flicker laughed.

“Q, I knew you’d regret giving her that thesaurus.” She turned

back to Taylor. “I don’t see why you don’t like Taylor Swift. Just

because she has the same first name as you, is wildly popular,

and writes and sings all of her songs; there’s no reason to dislike

her.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” her mother continued, “dinner’s ready.”

The cousins met Taylor’s father at the table. Mr. Flicker was

in the middle of a long speech about his day working for Star-

bucks to no one in particular. If Taylor and Quinton had been

paying attention they could have learned about the glories of

making the perfect espresso, or the horror of accidently using

soymilk when a customer specifically asked for dairy. They

could have learned some really cool stuff. But, sadly, Mr. Flicker

had that special way of making anything he talked about sound

boring. He could make a dump truck driving through a nitro-

glycerin plant sound as exciting as a report on the thickness of

toilet seats.

It was through this verbal assault that the cousins suffered.

Quinton soon grew tired of pretending to listen while having a

thumb war with Taylor under the table.

“Hey,” he said, “Taylor,” “What?”

“Have you seen Jeff Reed lately?” Jeff was a friend of Quin-

ton’s who, for reasons Quinton couldn’t begin to fathom, had a

crush on Taylor. It might have been worked out fine, but Jeff

had, a) spilled milk on her in the cafeteria while trying to bow to

her, b) loudly and awkwardly flirted with her in front of every-

body in the school, and, c) thought he was the best thing since

sliced jello, so he thought he was doing an ‘awesome’ job with

Taylor, and considered her his girlfriend. Taylor thought.

“That brainless jerk? No, why?”

Quinton shrugged, and said, “He said today he had been

meaning to see you.” Their conversation was interrupted by the realization of what Taylor’s dad was saying hit. Mr. Flicker was

saying, “so he’s lying there, bleeding and cursing up a storm, so I

says ‘Hey, sorry! With that haircut, you look like a

deer!’” Quinton and Taylor didn’t know what to think of that.

After dinner, Taylor immediately went to her room to

‘examine’ the scepter. Quinton, on the other hand, immediately

went to the living room to ‘examine’ the TV. He watched some

dumb show about creatures that kids caught in red and white

balls on cartoon network, then some grade ‘B’ horror movie, and

a PBS special about the Roman Empire which was actually kind

of interesting. Then, at about 11’o clock, he turned on The Lion,

the Witch, and the Wardrobe, a movie that was admittedly bor-

ing. Still, Quinton had read the book and enjoyed it, so he had

high hopes.

Taylor soon joined him. “Any luck with the scepter?” Quinton

asked.

Taylor glared, and said, “Not yet.” As Taylor repeatedly

pointed out everything against the laws of physics with the mov-

ie, Quinton repeatedly told her to shut up.

“Taylor,” he said, when she pointed out that water can’t form

the shape of a human, “you’re missing the main thing that’s

wrong with the movie.”

“What?” “The lion talks, Taylor.” Taylor rolled her eyes.

The cousins started to fall asleep during the big action se-

quence at the end.

“There’s nothing like magical warfare to put you to sleep,”

thought Quinton sarcastically. He stayed awake just long enough

to see the scepter’s black sphere start to glow yellow. Suddenly,

it fell over. A blinding light, a quick whiff of ozone, and an older

teen appeared. Smiling, revealing pointed teeth, he roared,

“Freedom at last!”

“Huh,” said Quinton. He wondered if there were songs about

pina coladas and getting caught in the rain inside where ever the guy had been trapped. That would probably explain why he was

so happy to be out. Quinton just had time for it to dawn on him

how dumb that sounded before he fell asleep.

© 2015 Emmett Rashleigh All Rights Reserved

Alexandra Marchon

Emme� Rashleigh Ryan Breitmeyer

Emma Sewell

Hannah Smith

Staff

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