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Issue # 2

1. Castle by Melissa Grieve

2.Autumn Leaves by Agnieszka

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Table of Contents

3 Editor’s Note

4 Gallery of Poetry - by Anna Lawlor, Anonymous, Mana W

5 Wall of Photography

6 What are we retreating from anyway? - Zac Berry

7 Sometimes You Just Don’t Know Why - MWL

9 Cowboys and Aliens - Sara Mousa

10 English Evolution - Sarah Borland

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ZITSby Jerry Scott & Jim Borgman

Editor’s PageAutumn, Autumn, Autumn

Quite a mouthful isn’t it?And yet it is in this fine season where:

“Every leaf speaks bliss to me,Fluttering from the autumn tree.” - Emily Bronte

With the falling of the leaves above us, we hope to receive a respite from the sweltering heat. Alas, it seems our prayers are being answered.The evenings are no longer a humid mess but rather a haven of calm.

Returning from our respective retreats, I am positive that everyone is brimful of stories. Care to share?

Halloween is approaching. Yes, it’s that time of the year. And remember, with Halloween comes...

Well you’ll see in our next issue!Cheers,

Priyapriyagoyal@acs.sch.ae

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Gallery of PoetryWar on the Sky

by Mana W

It is dire in the times in the skyWhen the world had been full of liesMalice and vice, both clash with strengthAnd the battle between kins at length.What happens, I don’t knowFor I the pacifier lay lowWanting to fly out of sightAway into the first light.But whatever it may beI do not with for this fight to seeNo matter how big or smallI wish for it to endBecause however they might be tallI hope, andTherefore we existLook to the bright side of light againAnd I hope we may come to gainSomething valuable once more.

A verbis tacerem tributum

by Anonymous

The blossoming feeling in your heartIs it love? Is it happiness?Maybe a bit of bothThat warmth of a comforting hug

My heart aches over wordsYou gave me not the chanceUnspoken, unsaidOver what I deemed was follyAnd yet seemed so false and untrueTo you

Trembling with tears unshedLeaning on the precipice Like a diver anticipating releaseI have not the energy

For that extra effortOr that extra leapTo make things right

For things seem so bleakNever to mend or repair again

If in every Dark room –

by Anna Lawlor

If in every Dark room – There shone Light, let it beHeaven will transcend – I too would see,

If through Hurt, we Grow – I’d see no scar – For He chooses what shall be known,Change is ajar

If my Sight were saturated – despairLife would turn Dark,As a decayed pear,And take Eternity –

Now, take Faith in He – Whom gave Blessing to see,Time will be cast away,The Heavenly Light will beam.

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1.Buddha in Ladakh

by Abhishek Goyal2.Sunset by Omar Akileh3. Glades of Fall

and4.Harry the Bird by Agnieszka5.Lotus Leavesby Melissa Grieve

The evening before Wednesday the 4th of October, the anticipation was palpable for a blissful two days off school. The next two days, the high school would retreat. For some, this afforded the opportunity of a delightful respite from schoolwork. A holiday of sorts. For others, it was an occasion to face a slew of team bonding activities or face up to their relative anonymity in their grade. Two days to pretend to have a place to belong. To me, the word “retreat” took on a whole different meaning these past two days. Looking around, people took the retreat different ways. There were the people who took it in the positive connotation the a “retreat” offered.

Yet, to others this retreat took on a distinctly negative cast.

These were the people I saw sitting together with people in a crowd and looking uncomfortable. Like a fixture that exists but isn’t really meant to be there. A quote that is rather fitting in this situation is that by Richard Yate in his novel “Revolutionary Road” which says that “Being alone has nothing to do with how many people are around”. And then there were the people who used this opportunity to shed their previous identity and adopt a new one. Shedding their identity as if its no more then an unused skin that can be worn at will. Thriving in a condition where they wish that their

peers would simply see them as something other than the epitomized athlete or the scorned bookworm.Wishing that people would see past the mask and into themselves in a situation unrestricted by the presence of a school environment. I would not want to presume but I wonder whether the people we know, the people we see on a daily basis in our school lives are really the people that we think we are.

That is not to say that the retreat was all morbid and undeserving of its exciting associations. It was a time that was full of situations that warranted a whole load of side-splitting laughter. Riding the choppy waves and engaging in activities that may have been forced upon us but unexpectedly allowed us to enjoy something we would never have sampled in the past. I cannot help but think though. Is the retreat offering us all that it promises? It promises a time to become closer to people in our grade and form a sense of cameraderie fostered through team bonding and two days in which school is not an oppressive burden. Yes, the idea of school is eliminated but people still stay within their social circles. The activities still cater to the outgoing, the outrageous and extroverted. But what about everybody else?

What are we retreating from anyway?

How many people are there like this who are simply retreating? Retreating from civilization. Retreating from themselves. Retreating into a place within themselves.

On that note:

Retreating-ly yours,

Zac Berry

Zac Berry’s Fortnightly What are we retreating from anyway?

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Sometimes You Just Don’t Know Why

This article is by....

I can’t remember what exactly happened that day. That’s the thing; sometimes you can remember what’s not important to the finest detail while completely forgetting what was important. And everyone keeps asking, why?

But I just can’t remember. No matter how much I want to.

What I do remember is the way the sun shone in through the paned windows, hitting the table giving it a wooden sheen. Making the details stand out. I saw little fairies, like Tinkerbell, dancing on the edges, playing and smirking at me like they knew something I did not. A secret. I remember the feel of the old familiar carpet. I never really liked that carpet. It reminded me of the carpet at my Grandma’s house (on my father’s side). Whenever I was there I could feel the dirt and grime that had been acquired there for many years. And whenever I looked down at the soles of my feet I saw them getting dirtier and because of that tougher and harder. Whenever I was there I felt the anger she had for me. It was all around the house. In the old faded curtains, the tacky velvet chair, her eyes. The anger was more for my Mama, but since I was my mother’s daughter it was pointed towards me too. Grandma didn’t have laughter in her face… It’s odd how some details slip away, while others stay with you forever.

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Just like that day. I remember the rough, bleach feel of the sheets that scratched my back. They gave off this clean, pure, sickly smell that I hated. They gave off this air of innocence that needed to be gone. And the worst part was that the more you washed them and cleaned them you weren’t able to get rid of the smell. The only way was to get them dirty, make them used so that they weren’t so white and pure. And that’s what happened. They got stained and dirty. And everyone needs to know why. And I would like to tell them why, but sadly I don’t even know why. I could say it just happened. But that’s not an answer, just an excuse. Or I could say, “I’m just human”. IS being human an excuse for being allowed to screw up? I can’t exactly say why but maybe there will be an answer somewhere in here.

A lot of people say that is has something to do with the upbringing. I’ve never really had any issues with my Mama. I remember her having short, think black hair, green eyes, a long smile She doesn’t need to be in here.

A couple of Christmases ago I was supposed to go visit family. I had a stopover in New York and then I was supposed to catch a plane to Ontario. But I decided to stay in New York, I liked the air there. It prickled my exposed skin, made me feel like there was a unified current moving through my body. It was a sort of electricity that

by MWL

Sometimes You Just Don’t Know Why (continued)

After the two weeks passed, the time to go home had come. On the ride to the airport with Mrs. Anderson I noticed how her eyes didn’t have the same electricity that Mr. Anderson’s did. Nor did the people on the bus that drove up beside us. All I could see was sadness.

In the group of girls that crossed at the zebra crossing, even though all the girls were laughing, all I could see was that one girl in the back who is pushed around because she has a few extra pounds on her. Or when there are boys playing ball, I see the one who has to sit on the bench because he makes cheesy jokes. And my heart breaks for them, may be even more that their does, because all I can see is their sadness. Their sadness that comes from the need to fit in, but never being able to because she has a couple of extra pounds or he says cheesy jokes. When I got back I saw it everywhere. Anywhere I walked I could feel the sadness in people’s souls. It tore me apart so badly sometimes that there was no way to shut it out. Whenever I saw a couple walk down a street, all I saw was them 20 years from now, both of them depressed because each one was cheating on the other. I realized, after seeing people cry or beg or pray, that no matter how many tears you pour out or how many times you say please or ask God, you can’t bring a person back to you. You can’t make someone love you if they love someone else. There’s no use.

And now, a couple of years later, after all these observations, I lie in my stained bed smelling of pine needles and smoke.

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seemed to be emitted from the core of the city, from the people. I tried to find a hotel to stay in for a couple of nights, but I couldn’t find any place.

It’s understandable that people would be afraid of letting an 11 year old girl stay alone in a hotel room, but it’s odd. It’s odd because they are the same people who would let an 11 year old girl walk out alone of the streets of New York.

New York is where I met the Andersons. They were a quiet family, with one son. Mr. Anderson was the kind of man every girl imagined herself marrying someday. He had kind blue eyes and big rough hands. Mrs. Anderson sat down next to me at the theatre where I decided to watch a movie contemplating what to do next. Their son must have noticed my two bags lying next to my seat because I heard him whispering to Mrs. Anderson asking for a reason.

I ended up staying two weeks at the Andersons that year. It was a good two weeks, apart from their son trying to kiss me when we were alone. He smelled of pine needles and smoke. It wasn’t unpleasant, the smell I mean, but I felt suffocated. There was no escaping it. It stuck to me like a tick under your skin.

Mr. Anderson was an ideal man. He had the charm of businessman, the wit of a Shakespeare’s characters, and the looks of Marlon Brando. But what captured me the most was the electricity in his eyes. They were alive with it; the whole city was in his eyes.

by  Sara  Mousa

As I sat down in the cinema at Mall of the Emirates, I sighed as the movie was starting. Cowboys and aliens? What kind of movie would that be? Truthfully, the only reason I was watching the movie was because I knew Daniel Craig, my favourite James Bond actor, was starring in the film. So I held back any yawns or groans during the other scenes and tried not to blink when he came on. But little did I know the movie had more in store for me than I gave it credit for.

Cowboys and Aliens is a movie full of crazy action scenes and blood: a lot of blood. The story starts out with Jake (Daniel Craig) who is wanted for crimes he doesn’t even remember committing, having had a sketchy background that isn’t revealed until further into the film. The sheriffs of the counties report monster attacks on people’s cattle, not knowing where they came from or who they were. Then, in the county where most of the main characters are from, comes an attack of mass proportions; alien ships come out of literally nowhere and snatch innocent people running for their lives. Not knowing whether they’re dead or alive, the

townspeople remaining attempt to hunt down the ships and kill the aliens, saving their people. But like every other movie, there’s a twist. He can’t remember why, but Jake has a metal weapon on his wrist which is the only way to destroy the aliens. He is then taken along with the rest of the men on the mission to track down the aliens and destroy them himself.

Olivia Wilde, who plays Jake’s lover in the film, reveals that she is actually an alien from another planet but she came on Earth to help destroy the aliens and make sure they wouldn’t destroy any homes anymore. We then learn from her knowledge that the aliens are digging for gold and they use other human knowledge to discover where it is. The rest of the movie is based on their trials to catch the monsters and it ends with a bittersweet note when Olivia Wilde dies killing the monsters and Jake goes from the outlaw of the county to the hero of the county.

Being someone who gets scared easily, this movie is not for the weak hearted; you will get scared and jump quite often and there will be bloodshed, but the adventure is worth the watch. If you need a movie of blood and flesh and fierce fighting, this is the movie for you. But if you need a movie that’s all about love or sensitivity, I recommend a movie like Justin Bieber’s Never Say Never or Winnie the Pooh.

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Cowboys and Aliens - A movie review

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English Evolutionby Sarah Borland

When one hears of English, one might think of reading Shakespeare, practicing grammar and spelling (some people might need more then others) or countless sheets of vocabulary that are memorized and forgotten in a blink of an eye. Everybody thinks that English is set in stone.You always have to put quotations when people are speaking, periods are always at the end of a sentence and you must capitalize every name, place and word at the start of a sentence. Yet this is not true. English has evolved slowly over time without us realizing it. Think about it.To some people, Shakespear is a whole other language yet All of those words you seen in Shakespeare are still in the English dictionary. The word ‘thou’ has the same meaning as ‘you’ yet if you wrote that in your English essay, I doubt your teacher would be impressed. Bill Bryson, who wrote The Mother Tongue: English and How It Got That Way has found an interesting trend in evolution of the English language.Here’s a test. Which words are mispelled below?

enterpreneurapparantkindergardenoccurrancevegatariansecreterypronounciationacceptiblefundemental

1? 2? Answer is all of them (Yes, kindergarten is spelt with a t. Check the dictionary.) Oh and also, ‘mispelled’ as well as ‘Shakespear.’ Did you notice? That’s evolution of English at work. It's this human need to simplify things. The piano was originally called pianoforte and the TV was called television. We had ‘thou’ which was a informal term to refer to someone else, but we now only use the formal ‘you’ and in some cases, it has become ‘U.’ Wheter you like it or not, words like ‘LOL’ and ‘BRB’ have already entered the dictionary and are part of the English language. For as long as humans are around to use it, English will evolve within our society; for better or for worse. By the way, did you realize that ‘whether’ was misspelled?