T•M•S

Taylor Middle School

Writing & Art Magazine

By:

Jonathan Chai

I. Poems A. Confused and Unsure

B. Just Because

C. Watching

D. Comfort

E. Dreams

II. Short Stories (Short) A. Theft

B. Suspicion

III. Short Stories (Long) A. The Mansion

B. Abducted

IV. Collaborations A. Taken —Jonathan C., Alex F., Taylor T.

B. Mandatory Dancing —Jonathan C., Jorje Q.

V. Topical Work A. Dreams

1) Poem —Dreams

2) Art —Nightmares and Dreams

Confused and Unsure I am confused and unsure,

I wonder why it is.

I hear voices in the background,

I see a world, blurry and unclear.

I want only clarity,

I am confused and unsure.

I pretend I don’t exist,

I feel as light as air,

I touch everything,

I worry I am trapped.

I cry because I am.

I am confused and unsure.

I understand my problem,

I say that I am fine,

I dream of seeing everything,

I try to grasp reality.

I hope I will succeed,

I am confused and unsure.

Just Because Just because I’m part Chinese

Doesn’t mean I’m super cheap,

Doesn’t mean I get straight A’s,

Doesn’t mean I spend all my time study-

ing,

Doesn’t mean I eat hamsters.

I live my life like everyone else,

Because I am part Chinese.

Written by:

Jonathan Chai

Poetry Watching I watch as others go on in their lives,

Uninterested in my own.

I follow them and their problems,

While thinking of mine.

Days pass by as I stand watching,

I watch as others go on in their lives.

Comfort I return to my familiar home,

To my bed, my chair, my home,

I fall into a deep bliss,

Breathing in its familiarity.

Conform I am expected to conform,

To be like everyone else.

I am asked to be the same,

But it is an impossible task.

Nobody is the same,

And I find it uninteresting.

I am expected to conform,

To be like everyone else.

Theft Classical music streamed steadily through the room as guests roamed around, carrying on their plates

heaps of expensive, mouth-watering food. The Piers were mingling with the guests, enjoying their wonderful

dinner party they spent so much time organizing. All was going smoothly and it seemed well worth the time.

Mr. Pier was talking to his new neighbor when a loud bang shook the room and a muffled scream was heard,

which was then cut off abruptly. A quiet apprehension took over the room and nervous whispers ran through

the crowd. Mr. Pier came down the stairs, his face full of anxiety. “The wall safe was blown open, and the

money is gone!”

Everyone was anxious to leave and filled with fear as the police were notified. As luck would have it,

one of the guests was a detective and he was busy with the task of examining the scene, snooping around and

gathering things. After a long wait, the detective came up to the crowd. Looking smug and confident he con-

cluded that one of the guests did it, and he knew which one. He then proceeded to go through a bag of evidence,

which included some pieces of metal, cloth and various other things, and pointed at the neighbor with his in-

jured finger.

“He is responsible for the theft.” The neighbor stood motionless for a moment, letting the information

sink in, then went into a panicked frenzy, trying to convince everyone that he didn’t do it. But by then, every-

one had backed away from him, surrounding him. “No! It wasn’t me!” The neighbor struggled helplessly

against the detective, scratching and grabbing at him. Wincing, the detective quickly subdued him, holding his

injury gingerly. The bandage had come lose, and he quickly rewrapped it. The police arrived shortly after, tak-

ing away the neighbor, who had lost all will to fight back. As the last of the guests left, still shaken from the

experience, the Piers thanked the detective and went back inside to recover. As the detective left the house, he

grinned slyly, walking with an air of satisfaction. He ducked into his car which was filled with valuables, as he

took off his bandage, letting his burnt finger loose, recalling the explosion that had injured him. He put the ex-

plosives aside and got behind the wheel, driving out of town, with the great rewards of another successful theft.

Short-Stories (Short)

Suspicion There was once a boy who lived with his mother. His father had passed a year ago, but not before leav-

ing his son the rough leather jacket that he had been wearing to work. The jacket was a treasure to the boy, the

last gift from his father, so he was always careful with it.

He wore it everywhere he went, and one day, after he had hung the jacket and gone to the fields, a friend

of his came rushing to him, asking him to go into town to run an errand for him, after which he could go di-

rectly home. Without hesitation, he agreed, and started toward the town. The errand was done simply enough,

and he was heading home in a matter of minutes, feeling great. As he reached for the keys to his house, how-

ever, his enthusiasm was crushed. His jacket, where he kept the keys, was still at the fields. He ran back to the

field, and his face fell when he saw the coat rack empty. He searched high and low for his jacket, and he asked

around, but the jacket was gone. And though he didn’t want to think it, his friend, suspiciously, was gone as

well.

It wasn’t as if the jacket could have just disappeared by itself, and he had always thought his friend was

eyeing it. As he headed home, he tried to clear his mind, trying to think of where his jacket might be. Before he

could decide what he was going to tell his parents, he reached his door, the bright flowers and colorful decora-

tion not at all fitting his mood. He steeled himself to knock on the thin, wood door, prepared to break his

mother’s heart. But before he did, the door opened, and his friend, in a rush, scurried out and vanished around

the corner.

The boy ran in, not knowing what to expect, to see his mother, calm as ever, sitting on her rocking chair

as always and holding his precious jacket. “Your friend there came to return your jacket. You left it at work,

dear.” Relieved, his doubts gone, he silently thanked his friend, ashamed of his own paranoid thoughts.

The Mansion

The dust and cobwebs clung to his face and hands as he pushed his way through the dark hall of the crumbling mansion.

Soft, skittering sounds—a multitude of rats—echoed throughout the house. Cautiously he approached the door. The wood, he

could see, was splintered from the inside out, by what appeared to be long claw marks. Slowly, carefully, he opened the door.

One step into darkness and he plunged into nothingness.

Darkness swallowed him as he fell through the floor, landing with a painful thud on his back. Aching horribly, he just

lay there for a while, thinking of how he would get out of this mess. Forcing himself up, he took out his flashlight and switched it

on, finding himself in a large, dusty room that looked like a cellar. He turned around, finding himself face to face with a giant rat.

He froze, both in terror and in awe, staring at the horrid creature. Its large front teeth looked like it could snap his bones easily,

its long, sharp claws gleaming in the dim glow of his flashlight. As the creature took a step toward him, the spell was broken and

he ran. The creature followed, with amazing speed, getting closer and closer. He kept running, his hope diminishing, as they

came to a wall. Cornered, he looked for a way out, but found none. He backed up against the damp, wooden wall as the creature

descended upon him, red eyes glowing with triumph in the dimness. All of a sudden, as the rotten planks gave way, he fell back-

ward into another room in a grand display of dust and splinters.

He could hear the creature on the other side, looking for its prey. He scrambled to his feet, hurriedly backing away. As

he explored the other room, the floor damp and mossy, he noticed his flashlight was starting to dim. A slight panic took over and

he sped up his search. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would need such a big room underground fir, and the mysterious cages

strewn about were not helping. A large statue materialized before him, startling him with its strangeness. This room was much

bigger than the previous one, as large as a cavern, he thought. After more tiring venturing, he found himself before the statue

once again. “I just went in a circle!” he thought to himself furiously. Exhausted, he leaned against the statue, deciding to take a

rest, and was taken aback when it slid out from under him, revealing a hidden staircase.

More confused than ever, he went down the stairs to investigate. Halfway down, his only source of light flickered one

last time, leaving him in the darkness. Deciding that it was better to see what was below than to go back to that horrible room, he

carefully felt his way down. He slipped on a mossy stone step, screaming as he skidded down the rest of the stairs. When he fi-

nally stopped, his bottom burning, he found himself in a corridor lit by numerous torches on the wall. The corridor ended

abruptly with a ladder that, he found, led back to the first room, the rat nowhere to be seen. Light was streaming in from where

he fell in. It was not sunlight, but a familiar, warm glow of a lantern. Light that hadn’t been there when he first entered.

“My word! Look at this hole! Those rats are getting out of control!” a voice exclaimed. The light got brighter and Will

could hear footsteps on the floor above, getting louder as it approached. A dark figure, his face hidden by the shadows, leaned

over the hole he had made. “Will, is that you?” It was his grandfather. The familiar voice made him feel safe at once.

“Grandfather it’s you! Help me! I’m stuck in this hole!” Will called. Not long after, a rope descended from the hole, pulling him

back to safety. He told grandfather of his adventure and they were planning to investigate it when they were more prepared. After

that incident, Will couldn’t look at grandpa’s old mansion the same way again, excited for the next time he would go in there.

Short-Stories ( Long)

Abducted

Amber switched off the lights as she left the office. Locking the door behind her, she headed home under the

dim guidance of the streetlamps. Going down the familiar path, she felt something was amiss, but couldn’t place

what it was. Shrugging it off, she went on, unaware of the mysterious figure that trailed behind her.

Amber, who consistently works late, is almost always the last one to leave the office. Working into the night,

she usually only leaves after midnight, but was never troubled despite having to walk home alone at night. It was, as

usual, around half past midnight when she left. As she passed a storefront, its shining windows reflecting the beauti-

ful night, she caught a glimpse of movement behind her. She turned around immediately, startled, finding herself

alone. Alerted, she went on briskly, all the while noticing every little sound, every small movement that she thought

she detected, and was certain she was being followed. She made it to her home safely enough, and carefully, but

swiftly, slipped inside. Locking the door behind her, she ran to the window, just in time to see a tall figure disappear

around the corner. Before she realized what was happening, she grabbed her bag and slid out the door, stalking after

the shape, barely visible, which was moving away quickly before her.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking, following her follower. She had done it in a rush, a split-second deci-

sion. She wanted to know why he had been following her, and was convinced that she herself was crazy. He had

taken her through countless dark alleys, narrow paths, and all kinds of passageways that she found increasingly diffi-

cult to get through, all the while having to keep an eye on the shadow in front of her that seemed to glide easily

through everything.

He almost seemed as if he were determined to lose her, though he couldn’t have known she was following him. A

chill went down her spine when she thought how easily he could have known that she was following him. Eventually, he

stopped before a little gray door, tucked away in a hardly noticeable alley, nicely concealed.

Spying intently from behind a wall, her view was limited. The man, she could see, went to the door, knocking so

lightly she didn’t think anyone would hear it, but the door swung open. He leaned towards the door, and she could hear soft

murmurs of conversation. Straining to see who he was talking to, she could just barely make out the outlines of the two of

them, catching slivers of conversation but not knowing what they were talking about. The man hastily went inside, the door

closing silently behind him. Her eyes still trained on the door, thought to herself that this was her last chance to back out.

She could just go back home and enjoy her normal life, and forget about all of this. She didn’t even want to think of what

might happen if she didn’t leave now. Before she could do anything, a shadow behind her came to life and she whipped

around, just in time to see the rock descending upon her.

She woke up in a damp, dark room that suffocated her with its mustiness, her head throbbing. Figures were moving

around her, and as she tried to get up, she found her hands and feet were bound to the chair. She was gagged as well, and

the old, overworked chair groaned as she tried to move, threatening to fall into pieces at any moment.

“She’s awake.” The voice behind her, quiet but menacing, announced. A small panic began to rise in her chest as

she thought of what they had planned to do with her. Her head still in pain, she trembled. They all set into motion at once,

sparing only occasional glances at her. A boy, who couldn’t be older than seventeen, came to untie her leg bindings. When

he looked at her, she saw in his eyes not something menacing, but that he was sorry for her, sympathetic. Someone pushed

her from behind, forcing her on her feet and moving forward. They led her out of the room and into a truck, where she was

thrown into the back. Only two people got onto the truck with her, a big, burly driver and the boy who had untied her. Her

hands still bound, she could only watch as he gently put a sack over her head, letting the darkness swallow her.

She woke up with a jolt, and found that the truck was still moving. She didn't know how long she had been asleep,

but heard the boy still moving beside her. She found herself enjoying his company, like a friend in a sea of strangers. The

truck stopped abruptly, and a small commotion could be heard outside. Through her sack and the doors, she could hear the

driver talking with a stranger about what to do with her. "The sooner we give her to Lilith, the sooner we get paid.", said the

driver.

"Lilith? Lilith Cox? Is that who we're giving this girl to?", the voice was unfamiliar, but at the mention of Lilith,

Amber tensed, fear coursing through her veins. Lilith used to work with her in the office, and as far as she could tell, Lilith

was a complete psycho, not quite right in the head. She had tried to ignore her, but her antics were getting more and more

distracting and were more or less dangerous. Amber couldn't quite remember what it was Lilith did, just that it wasn't nor-

mal. Amber reported her to her boss, unsure of how she had gotten the job in the first place, and had not seen Lilith since.

But now, with Lilith trying to capture her, it was evident that Lilith was as insane as ever.

As she thought of her crazy office coworker, a panic started to rise and she found herself tugging at the rope tying

her hands together. Suddenly, she felt the rope loosen, and as the bag was lifted from her head, she was greeted by the boy's

urgent face. "Run," he ordered, looking anxious and practically pushing her out of the truck. The light hurt her eyes after all

the time she spent under that wretched bag, and the fresh air was welcome. It was well into the afternoon, but the streets

were empty. Before she could thank the boy, she was forced to run, the other kidnappers, who had spotted her already, hot

on her trail.

The boy didn't look like he would be of any more help, but he had done enough. The men still behind her, she ran

as far away from the truck as possible, but it wasn't long until she felt her legs weaken, and panting heavily, was forced to

rest. The men caught up to her in no time, surrounding her. "This is it," she thought, "I'm caught." Giving in, she fought off

her urge to resist when they started to drag her back to the truck, knowing it would only bring her more trouble.

They were in a narrow street, lined with houses on both sides, but it was deserted, its inhabitants probably at work.

She was just as surprised as her captors when a door creaked open, a middle-aged woman stepping out with a garbage bag

in hand. At the sight of them, her mouth fell open, her face distorted by fear. Taking the golden opportunity, Amber

stomped, hard, on the foot of the man who was carrying her, and immediately felt his grip loosen as he yelled out in pain.

Breaking free, she ran into the house, grabbing the woman behind her.

The men seemed to have retreated, leaving them alone as they waited for the police to arrive. The woman was kind

enough to give her some tea, and Amber told her about what had happened. The woman listened intently, absorbed in her

stories. At the description of Lilith, she looked horrified, and then explained that there was a woman named Lilith Cox in

this town, and that she was a bit eccentric, but nobody had thought her a threat. Amber's heart skipped a beat at hearing that

Lilith was in such close proximity. What if the men had gone to report to Lilith? Would she still come after her? They dis-

cussed what they would do and how to ensure Lilith's arrest.

The sirens were heard not long after, and relief flooded through Amber as she realized it was almost over. She was

almost safe and would be able to go home. Answering questions the police asked and telling them about Lilith, it wasn't

long before she was on her way home and the police were off to look for Lilith. Riding in the police car, she watched as the

strange, polluted town slowly faded into the distance, longing to be back home.

When she slumped back into her comfortable, familiar couch, she couldn't help but think of the craziness she had

been through. Thinking of how lucky she was to have met the boy and the lady, she only felt happy that she was safe at

home.

Taken

Max came home from an outing for school, spirits high as he recalled all the fun activities he had been through

over the last few days. As he approached his home, he felt an eerie feeling of dread. His front door was swinging wide

open. This was strange, as his mother was always fussing about taking safety precautions. Leaving the door open and

inviting strangers into the house was not her usual course of action. He sped up, jogging into his home. The remains

of his spirit dwindled away as he went in. The room was a mess, clutter everywhere, drawers dragged open, and the

valuables looted. And his parents were nowhere to be seen.

Max called the police immediately. When they arrived, he filled them in, not leaving out a single detail. The

police looked around, finding a bit of blood on the floor, which made Max’s stomach churn. He imagined his parents,

so kind and loving, being tortured as their valuables were taken away. The door handle had also been broken and

smashed in, and their secret safe was broken, the jewelry in it all gone.

Max wanted to know who did this, and how. The police were lucky enough to find some fingerprints at the

scene and he could only wait as they analyzed it. It didn’t take long for them to identify a suspect and were hot on his

trail not long after. Max, meanwhile, found it agonizing to have to do nothing but wait while his parents were missing.

They had left him at the police station for now, and he was practically squirming with a mixture of boredom and anxi-

ety. He was almost grateful when the officer walked back in, a shady looking man behind him. Putting down the

magazine he had been flipping through, Max got up to greet them. The officer filled him in, telling him that the man

was most likely the one who robbed his home. They had caught him easily enough, and he had admitted to the crime.

As they put the man behind bars, all Max could think of was where his parents were.

His parents were not at the suspect’s hideout, and the suspect himself was being completely useless. He re-

fused to answer anything, and they could get nothing out of him. After searching his house, the police found nothing.

Max, feeling horrible, continued to spend his time waiting at the station, fiddling with anything he could find, resist-

ing the strong urge to just go out and find his parents himself. It was getting dark, and Max’s hope of finding his par-

ents was starting to fade. The police had almost given up, which horrified Max, and decided to bring Max to the

criminal’s home at his request. When he got there, it was dark and damp in the house, the air reeking of alcohol. The

smell was pungent and he felt horrible just staying in there. Looking around, it was a mess, the floor was filthy, and

the whole house seemed like it could collapse at any moment.

“Mum? Dad? Are you in here?” he was screaming to himself, hoping that he would hear a response. He heard

a thumping coming from under him, and his heart skipped a beat. It could have been anything, it could have been a

large rat, or any other creature, but his hopes were high, he was desperate to find them, and he called for the police to

come. It wasn’t long before the floor had been demolished and they found Max’s parents huddled on the floor, gagged

and bound, looking helpless. They were fished out and Max, with huge relief sweeping over him, ran to reunite with

his parents.

Jonathan Chai

Collaborations

Mandatory Dancing in P.E. Exercise or Extreme Embarrassment?

Physical education in Taylor Middle School includes a dance program. This introduces stu-

dents to the wonderful and definitely useful “art” of dance. It helps students build up the courage to

ask someone to dance and to do it well. Dancing is part of our culture and the students are privileged

to be learning it at this age.

Dancing will, at some point in our lives, be required. Whether at a party or a ball, it is some-

thing that will be expected of you. Of course, you will be turning heads with your impressive moves.

Although some may say that you won’t need to use the “Cheeseburger” or the “Electric Slide” at a

dance, these are just beginning dances that are to introduce you to the art. As you progress through

the program, you will learn more and more dances, increasing your skill as well.

Although dancing may not burn as many calories as other forms of exercise, it teaches you to

follow directions and helps deal with your body coordination, as well as building teamwork with

partner or group dances. It is not only physical, but mental exercise as well.

Dancing also requires you to ask a partner to dance, which could be an important skill. It could

help you ask for favors, questions, and of course, dances. It takes courage to ask someone to dance,

and

there is always the danger of rejection, just like the real world. You need to learn to deal with

rejection if you are regularly rejected, and not end up in a deep depression.

Overall, the dance program teaches you not just amazing dances for the next big event,

but also some valuable values that could help you deal with the real world.

Jonathan Chai

Jorje Q.

See other side of the argument on Jorje’s

Dreams & Nightmares At the mercy of our dreams, we are powerless in sleep. At the mercy of our dreams, we are

On the mood of our mind, we depend. Powerless in sleep.

A phantom that haunts our sleep, On the mood of our mind, we depend.

It glides around in our consciousness, A phantom that haunts our sleep,

And feeds on the essence of our souls. It glides around in our consciousness,

And feeds on the essence of our souls.

An angel of bliss and happy scenes,

It blesses our mind with jolly dreams.

Full of joy and energy,

It gives us life and greatness.

An angel of bliss and greatness.

At the mercy of our dreams, we are powerless in sleep.

On the mood of our mind, we depend.

When the events of the day, and the week, and the year,

When all the things add up,

When your emotions are felt by your mind,

When you’re drowning in problems and trapped in your mind,

The sweet release comes to free you,

The angels and devils do as they please,

Coming to help and free your mind.

At the mercy of our dreams, we are powerless in sleep.

On the mood of our mind, we ride.

The Angels and Devils all come to help you,

Though not at your command.

There’s nothing you can do,

You don’t know why it’s there,

But your mind sends waves to let you know

You can solve things in you head.

Topical Work— Dreams