The Mind’s Eye

Waldwick High School 2013-2014

Board of Education Dawn Monaco, President

Dr. Dominic J. Novelli, Vice President Patricia Levine

Daniel Marro, Sr. Claire McLafferty

Joseph Orlak Martha Walsh

Administration Dr. Patricia Raupers, Superintendent of Schools

John Griffin, Business Administrator/Bd. Secretary Victoria Wilson, Director of Special Services

Kevin Carroll, High School Principal Michael Clancy, High School Assistant Principal/Athletic

Director Amy Baskin, Supervisor of Language Arts and World

Languages Janet Sobkowicz, Supervisor of Social Studies, Related Arts,

and ESL

Mind’s Eye Staff Advisor: Mrs. Danielle Kish

Editors: Natalia Bastante, Chris Reid, Jeff Kim, Liam Blanchard Staff/Creative Writing Club: Nicole Stahl, Molly Lumino, Jenjira Townsend, Kevin Petruccello, Chris Park, Peter Stahl

Artwork provided by Ms. Ruch’s Art Students

Photography provided by Mr. Opderbeck’s Photography Club Front Cover Art by Kristina Favo

Clipart provided by Microsoft Publisher

Photo Above By Casey Woolbert Photo Below By Kelsey Church

Creative Writing Club Scary Story Prompts: Each member of the club began with one of the prompts and wrote for three minutes; after three

minutes, they handed the story over to the next person until everyone wrote something. These next

few stories are by: Natalia Bastante, Nicole Stahl, Jenjira Townsend, Kevin Petacello, and Molly

Lumino.

Staring the teddy bear...It just sat there without any movement, its red eyes staring back

at me. I couldn’t’ move. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop staring at the teddy bear. Slowly,

the small brown bear’s arm started to twitch. I tried to move, to shout, to do anything, but it was

as if I had no body. I was frozen in place and could not summon the nerve to move my legs.

The bear sat, abandoned on the lone, dusty shelf. After my grandfather had passed, it was my job

to sort through his many belongings. The apartment was blanketed in a thin layer of dust that

had settled after years of neglect. The bear was the lone object left clean. It’s red, plastic eyes

seemed to glimmer in the light. I watched his small paw reach toward me. Perhaps I imagined it.

Perhaps I was tired, overworked, not thinking straight. I saw its lips, it’s furry, soft lips move.

“Close.”

Barely more than a whisper, high-pitched and squeaky. Exactly how you would imagine a teddy

bear to sound. Mesmerized and motionless, I watched its paw touch my shoulder.

“Hold.”

As if no longer under my control, my hands moved. They picked up the bear. They held it,

plush, soft, and furry. Maybe I had wanted to pick it up, maybe I was just tired. Maybe I was

crazy.

The bear almost seemed like he was smiling at me and I certainly wasn’t picking up on any bad

vibes. That is, not until a lone thought crossed my mind.

They hadn’t found my grandfather’s body. They only found an empty hospital bed and some

clothing.

“Mine.”

It was the bear again, but its fur no longer felt soft and gentle. It was wet and melted. I didn’t

look down at it. My head started to turn towards the bear. I tried to resist but I couldn’t and as I

looked into its eyes once more, I became dizzy.

“Goodnight.”

The streets were never this empty…as they were on this night. Although it was not very late, the streets were bare. A lone, cloaked figure stood beneath a flickering street light. Without a second thought, the girl turned on her heels and walked away. Perhaps it was just a lone teenager, but at this time of night, there was no reason to take chances. The maze-like streets allowed for plenty of alternate routes so the detour was really no inconvenience. Just as she rounded the corner onto South Street, the girl’s eyes widened, under the next streetlamp, the same figure stood. Same cloak, same rigid pose, same silence. He (or she?) didn’t make a sound or a move. Sufficiently creeped out, the girl crossed to the other street and headed in the opposite direction. The girl took barely two steps when she almost screamed. At the end of the street was the same hooded figure. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw that the one that scared her into crossing the street had vanished. Realizing there was literally no way around this, this thing in a cloak, she decided that maybe this was an exception and she should take her chances. She walked away, trying to keep her pace steady and head up, and drew nearer to the figure. She found that no matter how close she thought she was getting, she never quite reached the figure, and seemed to stop walking altogether. She glanced at her feet and-oh… She was walking, but her feet felt as if they were at a standstill. The cloaked figure was still there and hadn’t gotten any closer. Strangely, without moving, the figure seemed to be moving away. The girl took this as an opportunity to stop, and it seemed as if this was not the right decision for the figure stopped, and its head snapped right staring directly at her. Glowing, demonic eyes making her fear for her life. She turned to run, and felt something cold in her chest. She looked down to see an ice blue blade tip sticking out of her shirt.

Photo Above By Brooke Garstin Photo Below By Julianna Terracciano

Artwork Above By Jimmy Pizappi Artwork Below By Jessica Fleisher

Stars

By Natalia Bastante

Stars must have an easy life

They have one better than mine

They are hotter than me

At the very least

They achieve more than I could ever

Hope to accomplish

We call them shiny, pretty, amazing

I am waiting for someone to say that

To me and mean it

(Maybe not shiny)

They are born in beautiful gas clouds

They live in a rainbow of heat and colors

They go out with a bang

A breath-taking bang

Stars are beautiful

They do so much

Without even trying

How can I even compare?

I look in the mirror and remember

My body is made up of elements

Hydrogen, helium, carbon

Stardust

I may be insignificant

The stars may never know my name

My life never as simple as theirs

But I am nonetheless

A star

(Or at the very least part of a dead one)

(Which sounds undeniable cooler)

A star corpse

(Yeah)

August

By Michael Borgese

August rolls in

Running too fast

And burning too hot

And before you know it

It runs away too soon

Where I ’m From

By Kaitlyn Harrigan

I am from fashion, from Topshop, and Free People

I am from the small grey house on Mary Lane,

of comfort and warmth, it feels like home.

I am from the garden of growing flowers

unique and diverse

I ’m from Spanish food and the summer vacations

from my parents, my sister, and Sean’s

I ’m from the family get-togethers and holiday feasts.

From do the best you can and follow your dreams

I ’m from Ireland, I’m from Columbia

I ’m from rice and chicken. From the support of

my parents…the craziness of my brother and sister

I am from the happiness and love of my family, and

my dreams of the future.

Most days I am toasted caramel soft and sweet fun and relaxed always enjoying life to the fullest But when life gets serious I am like melted iron fiery but malleable vibrant and strong ready to lend the task at hand Together they make me whole fun with most but strong inside By Devraj Roy

Courage Poem By Sirr Wills and Mina Gurgis Courage is doing something you’re afraid of Courage means doing something no one else will do People become courageous by being brave People become courageous by doing the unthinkable My father is courageous because he sits through rush hour everyday My father is courageous because he was in a war People show courage by killing a spider for their friends People show courage by doing their duties

Courage Poem

By Nicole Moodie and Emily Lupino

Girl: As I stare into the mirror the light reflects off my hairless head

Nurse: As I stare into the mirror I cover the dark circles under my eyes for my second 12 hour shirt

Girl: As I am physically weak, I am mentally strong and see the beauty within

Nurse: As I am physically tired, a gentle touch, a quiet word, a small smile will soothe this person’s suffering to-

night

Girl: I ignore the stares and hold my head up high as I walk throughout the halls of the school

knowing that I am strong enough to withstand their sidelong glances and double takes

Nurse: My patient fought hard, she didn’t win the fight. I will put my feelings in a box and think only of her hus-

band

Girl: As I stare into the abyss, I am not afraid because I know that my family is there to guide and support

me along the way

Nurse: I never regret becoming a nurse for all of the sacrifice. I have grown strong and learned how other peo-

ple’s suffering may be greater than my own

Girl: I am a cancer patient and I am courageous

Nurse: I am a nurse and I am courageous

Artwork Above By Caroline Claus Artwork Below By Sam Hughes

Hard Work Pay’s Off

By Billy Frese

3…2…1 the game ended! We, the Waldwick/Midland Park Warriors, just won the

North1 Group 2 state semi-finals and we’re going to the championship. When we finished

shaking hands with the opponent all the fans stormed the field. Everyone ran to their friends and

celebrated with joy. The feeling was amazing. Everyone was as happy as they could be.

When the team and I got back from the hour and a half bus ride back to our field house,

we were still amped with excitement from the game. While I was sitting in the field house I

looked around and took a moment to take in what I was seeing and feeling. Out of the six

months we had been practicing with each other, I have never seen or imagined everyone being

so happy. Everyone was singing our signature song after a win, “Country Roads” with big

smiles on their faces. The feeling was like anything could have happened at that moment and

we would still be happy. As I watched everyone celebrating I started to think back to all of the

grueling practices and challenging weight lifting sessions we had endured. All of the hard work

since day one had paid off, every rep, sprint, and play had been worth it. It was the hard work I

realized that pushed us through adversity and the vision of our goal coming to life that had

brought us to this moment.

During the next couple of days, I would start to frequently think back on the moment I wit-

nessed after we won the game in the field house. It was then that I came to the belief that hard

work pays off. I started to put the pieces of the puzzle together, from the countless brutal prac-

tices to the feeling of success when the hard work helped to reach that success. No matter what

the goal is I believe that if one truly works hard and gives it their all, the hard work will pay off

and success will follow.

Ever since the experience I have begun to work a lot harder at things I want to succeed

in such as school football. I’m constantly striving towards my goals because I have witnessed

how great it is to reach your goal and I know what is in store. I can already see my parent’s joy

when I make honor roll and that is what motivates me to work hard just like the football team’s

vision of going to the state championship motivated them to work harder. I believe that hard

work pays off.

October

By Larisa Monteleone

October scurries in,

scaring every child in sight.

Pulling leaves of the trees,

coloring and covering the grounds.

Then it glides away.

December

By Kalyn Marie Rodriguez

December snows in

with his mittens on hands,

and fuzzy socks on feet.

Better bundle up or go inside to the heat!

His frosty grey eyes making

the color of the leaves go

bye-bye, but helping

the kids swing by to say hi!

December By Sam Hughes December sways in, its delicate flakes blanketing the ground. It twirls with the wind and howls to the sky at night and with snow coated fingers, clawing at exposed skin.

January

By Eddie Kim

January stumbled quietly

like gentle flutters of a butterfly

shivering toes and chattering teeth

as she twirls in the frozen clouds

leaving the world in a soft pillow.

Artwork Above By Matty Monaco

Privacy

By Natalia Bastante

What it means to me Is enough

That you don’t touch my things Without my permission

I learned long ago

How delicate trust is And how wasted it can be

Sometimes I’m a royal blue intelligent and strong

calm and quiet staying collected and on task

Most times I’m lobster red outgoing with friends

wanting more like a reader of a suspenseful book

But beware I can change at a moment’s notice

By Kieran McLafferty

Artwork Above By Sara McLaughlin Artwork Below By Anna Puglise

Artwork Above By Larissa Woods Artwork Below By Jessica Fleisher

Photo Above By MaryKate McNaught

I am from New Jersey

from Spalding and Nike

I am from the hard wood floors of the basketball court

Passion, teamwork

It feels like the one place I belong

I am from the house full of kids

the jokes, the smiles, and the contagious laughter

the tears and hard times

I’m from the holidays spent together and support

From Mary and Sandra

and Tracy

I’m from the days spent laying on the beach and movie nights

From treat others how you want to be treated

and believe in yourself

I’m from the Catholic faith

of hope and trust

I’m from Ireland, Italy, and Mexico

Potatoes, meatballs, and tacos

From the love of my mom, aunts, and uncles

the acceptance of my siblings, cousins, and friends

I am from the smallest town of Waldwick

with the biggest of dreams.

By Grace D’Annibale

I am from pom poms from friends and loved ones I am from the small green house warm, loving It welcomes you in I am from the puppy, Zoey the sister, Elena and the brother, Rich I’m from the books and writing from Laurie and Jack I’m from the Sunday night dinners and seven fish Christmas Eves From the “I love you’s” and the “eat your vegetables” I’m from the Catholic faith and accepting others I’m from Italy ravioli and meatballs From the grandma who brought everyone to the table The laughs we’ve shared over the years I am from family. By Victoria Anastasi

Artwork Above By Cassidy LaForge Artwork Below By Joe Monaco

“The Doctor”

Zenith

By Natalia Bastante

Four days. We are all seated around one big white table. There are only two incandescent lights above,

and the light they give off is pathetically dim. I can barely see his freckles. Faint, brown, scattered all over his face

like constellations, they are all invisible to me. Maybe the light is dim so we can’t tell if the food looks as bad as it

tastes. I ordered pasta primavera. It looks like brown mush, like rotting old moldy brains. I stick out my tongue and

he laughs. He has a clear laugh, and I can always tell when it is genuine. It is now, deep and throaty and full of

mirth. My brother eyes him warily—it’s been three years and he still worries. We could be twins, he and I: deep

blue eyes, silken black hair (which he wears long and I wear short, funnily enough), thick dark eyebrows that make

him look ruggedly handsome and me question my sexual appeal. The chatter around us died a little when he

laughed, but it has resumed enduringly. I can pick each voice apart from the other: my brother, my sisters, my

mother, my uncle, my godparents, our friends, his mother, his father, his aunt, his cousins, him. We hold hands

under the table. His palms are soft and delicate compared to mine, which are scarred and calloused from too many

years of splinters and knives. The irony always makes us grin, like we are doing now, and surrounded by people

we are completely alone in our unadulterated excitement.

Three days. He has work; I have the day off. I say day; it feels like night. It is noon and the sky is nearly black with

clouds. Thunder crashes and I instinctively grab my pillow. I am not leaving the house today. Panic grows in my

chest as lightning flashes outside and my gut clenches in anticipation. When the thunder roars again, I do my best

not to squeal in fear. I pull the down covers over my head, but they barely muffle the howling wind—the nigh on

hurricane—outside, and they do everything to amplify my pounding heart. It thumps in my ribcage like an animal

clawing for escape. I really can’t handle thunderstorms. I play with the ring on my finger. It is dark silver and

wide, and instead of huge diamonds, it has a stripe of tiger’s eye running through it. I was crying when he slipped

it on my ring finger—I am crying for a different reason now. I usually fiddle with it when I’m bored, but now I use

it like a preacher uses a cross. It’s my talisman against the demonic forces of meteorological phenomena. My

phone vibrates in my pocket and the illuminated screen tells me it’s him.

Answering with a shaky voice, a greeting is met with his voice comforting me, telling me I’m okay, noth-

ing will hurt me, he’s there, he’ll be home soon, we’ll be safe and sound. His dulcet baritone soothes me and dis-

tracts me; it always does. It rumbles like a tiger and purrs like a kitten and wraps me in a blanket of safety. I tell

him he has the voice of an angel, and he tells me that I’m switching up our voices again.

Two days. It is thankfully sunny and we are walking outside. It smells of wet trees and damp earth—

petrichor, he tells me. The smell of dust after rain. The radiant sun will soon dry it all though. I’m glad, since

leaves are much more fun to leap in when they are dry and crackly and crinkle when you step on them. When

they’re damp, they are slimy slippery scams that will make you think you’re on an ice rink and break your neck.

They stick to your coat and make your shoes damp when you walk through them. They all look dirty: mud browns,

urine yellows, ruddy reds. Dry leaves are much better. Crispy crimson, bright yellows, chocolate browns, they are

much more visually appealing. Driving on a highway through the mountains, where the hills are now seas of red

and gold and limbos between life and death. When I realize I’ve been expounding the beauty of autumn for about

an hour, blush floods my cheeks and my ears burn. He laughs that genuine laugh of his and hugs me and tells me

that he falls in love with my passion every day. His leather jacket is smooth and supple, but I nearly choke on the

pungent odor.

One day. Unfortunately this is the day where his freckles will not be counted, and the colorful flecks of

his whiskey gold eyes—the eyes where I can name and place every single color I see, from maple syrup to honey

to toffee to butterscotch to caramel (they are all sweet things, I realize now)—will not be studied today. My sisters,

and my friends kidnap me, and my brother and his friends kidnap him. I imagine they’ll drag him off to some club,

with pulsating lights and pounding music and hot sweaty bodies that can’t dance at all but try to anyway; I warn

them that there’ll be Hell to pay if they bring him back drunk and epileptic. The girls are much kinder to me. They

bring me to a grandiose hotel suite that appears far too expensive; they reassure me it wasn’t. The walls are blind-

ingly white and all the furniture is pristinely white as well. The leather couch, the shag carpet, the tables, the queen

-sized bed—all white. The only things with color were the paintings on the walls and the deep redwood floors. The

girls shower me in silly and inappropriate gifts that make me blush. They tell jokes that have me in tears and

clutching my sides. The wine they managed to get is my favorite—well not wine, cider. Pumpkin cider that is

sweet and spicy and tingles on my tongue and makes me fuzzy on the inside. It feels like a kitten rolling

around in my stomach and it tickles. They tease me and tell me that they had ordered some “male entertainment”

but I breath a sigh of relief when at the end of the night, no such lewd guests arrive. They were awful teases but

they knew how uncomfortable it would’ve made me. That’s how I know they’re my friends. Even though only two

of them are my blood-sisters, they are all sisters to me.

It’s ground zero. The big day. I pace my bedroom so intensely it’s surprising there isn’t a trench being

paced right through the floor. My ears pound with what must surely be heart palpitations. My palms are sweaty and

I can’t tell if I’m hyperventilating. There could be a hurricane going on outside and I wouldn’t have noticed. My

brain is in a million places at once, it’s a jigsaw puzzle that’s been torn apart by a toddler. I’m scrambling to find

all the pieces but there’s no time. When my mother walks in to fetch me, to tell me that the limousine is here and

we can head to the banquet hall, she is in tears but her smile could outshine the sun. She grips me by the shoulders

to stop my erratic movement and spins me so she can view my dress in all its glory. It is as light as air and soft

green. It billows and floats like chiffon should but underneath is the true beauty. Underneath is nude colored satin

that falls about my feet, and like veins of gold in a cave emerald creeps throughout it. White may be the color of

purity, but green is the color of life.

Time is slowing down and it seems the limo is taking much too long to get to the hall, but the drive is only

ten minutes long. My bridesmaids are dressed in dark forest green dresses, and they are chattering away excitedly

over my anxious silence. When we arrive, my mother hands me a bouquet of white lilies. My frantic conscience is

telling me I’ll trip and ruin everything before I can even make it to the hall, but I ascend the steps without a hassle.

I take one last look at the sky before entering. It is bright blue and free of clouds. At the second door, my brother is

waiting to walk me down the aisle. A pang of melancholy slices through my heart at the reminder that my father

will be forever absent from my life from now on. I slam the pang with a giant hammer; this day should be filled

with happiness. The bridesmaids and groomsmen all walk out ahead of us, one by one until it is our turn. My heart

has stopped working by now, I’m sure of it. We enter the hall and I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt but inside I

can’t breathe. Then I lay eyes on him my lungs relax. The panic that grips me releases slightly. Everyone is look-

ing at me but I can only feel his gaze. This is our day. My brain organizes, the jigsaw puzzle is solved. Suddenly

we’re holding each other’s hands, and our smiles could float off our faces. He slips a ring on my finger and I slip a

ring onto his. When we finally say, “I do” my world implodes. It feels incredible, amazing, beautiful, perfect.

Whiskey irises stare into blue and we whisper in unison, “I love you”.

Photo Below By Jessica Santulli

Courage Poem By Bruno Przybylinski and Joyce Palacios

Courage means overcoming problems and doing the right thing. Courage means resilience in anything.

Courage means being hardworking and not giving up.

Courage means to be able to “bounce-back” from life-changing tragedies.

People become courageous by making responsible life choices. People become courageous by fighting and surviving anything.

My dad is courageous because as a firefighter he risks his life.

My mom is courageous because she has survived many family deaths.

People show courage by helping others and telling the truth. People show courage by overcoming life-changing obstacles.

The most courageous thing I have ever done was helping my grandma through her sickness.

The most courageous thing I have ever done was helping family through losses of loved ones.

Photo Below By Kelsey Karlsen

I Believe in Dreams Coming True

By Larisa Monteleone

I went on vacation to Disney World with my whole family about two years ago.

Before my little cousins got tired, we went on all of the baby rides for them

first. Then they saw it: a princess making store. We all went in and it was

smelled like flowers and was full of glitter. My cousins ran to the chairs and got

comfortable. I went to my 7 year old niece and handed her the book of

makeover choices. As she was looking through the book she found the one that

she thought that would be perfect: the Tinkerbelle hairstyle.

As they did her hair, she was more and more excited. When they were done,

she gasped, and then picked out matching makeup. When her makeup was on

she ran into the next room dragging me along. As she picked out the pink

sparkly dress, I saw happiness in her eyes. She was finally living her dream of

being a princess.

A dream is a child’s hope and innocence. You should never give up on your

dreams, they can be your future. I believe in dreams and fantasy. They are

what keep us up in life. My niece had a dream of becoming a princess. She never

gave up hope. At the least expected time her dream came true. This relates to

my belief because my niece and her dream came true. It made her believe more

in hope and fantasy, even more than she already did. I believe in dreams coming

true because I personally think that they do.

I now believe in dreams because they do come true. For some people they

have to work for it, and for others it just comes to them. Having a creative

imagination helps you create your dreams. I see a dream as a creative goal.

That meaning that it should most likely will not happen. Fantasies help your

dreams stay alive and in your head. I can not help but to dream, to always

wonder what happens next. I believe that dreaming helps you find out who you

are. Also it helps you shape what you are going to be like or to do in life.

In my experience I came to believe that we should all move forward with are

dreams and have faith. Based on my experience, just little girls dream came

true by hoping and believing. That helped me believe that it is important to have

faith in your dreams. Maybe even make them goals.

My belief has benefited me so far because I dream of going to F.I.T. College and

set that to be a goal. Now I do the best that I can to make that my future. That

moment in time helped me believe that your goals do come true no matter how

old you are.

This will help me get in to a better college in the future. It will also help me

archive any dream or goal that comes to mind. I now know to never give up and

to stay true.

Artwork By Shane Hurley “Going To War”

This I Believe

By Kyle Benvenuto

When I was younger I hated basketball; I never even tried picking up a ball until I was in 7th

grade and I was terrible. My parents then forced me to play because they wanted me to try something new.

When I started playing I began to enjoy it immensely even though I was the worst player on the team. My

dad tried to help me out and work with me, but it was not much help. Eventually, my dad bought me a

hoop and I began spending most of my nights outside practicing. This led me to liking the game more

than I originally intended.

At practice I began being able to compete with the other kids that I wasn’t able to play against be-

fore. Slowly, I started gaining more respect from my teammates and together, we grew a bigger bond. I

used to ride the bench but then I started picking up more and more minutes every game. Gradually, I

started playing more than some of the kids that were previously better than me. I was now the sixth man

on the team but I wanted to have an important role on the starting five.

I then had my best shot at becoming part of the starting five because a kid got injured and was out

for two weeks. At practice, I went as hard as I could possibly go and worked harder than anyone else on

the team. The next game came and the coach finally decided to give me the spot I deserved on the starting

five. Now it was time for me to prove I could take on the role. So I suited up and got ready to play harder

and more aggressive then I have ever played before.

When the game was about to start, the coach told me I was going to take the jump and I began to

get really nervous. When the ball was thrown up I won the jump, my first couple of shots and I began to

get really excited I felt hot but then surprisingly, I was pulled out of the game. I ended the game with

twelve points and was worried I would not be put back as a starter the next game. A couple days later, we

had another game and the player was back from his injury. I did not plain on starting but when the coach

called out the starting five, I was one of them and felt more confident then even I had finally felt like my

hard work has paid off.

I Believe In Change By Emily Rienzo

When I was in the eighth grade, my parents brought my younger sister and I into the living room and told us we needed to talk. In my head, I knew that this couldn’t be good, so I started thinking of all the things I shouldn’t have done the past few weeks. Instead, my dad told us he got a better job offering, but it’s in North Carolina. So a few days later, we drove to Charlotte, North Carolina and stayed at a hotel to look at where we would live. We have family friends that move around all the time and just moved from Waldwick, New Jersey to Charlotte. They were basically our tour guides. The first two days, we went house hunting. It was fun because the houses there were huge! There was this one house that was my favorite because I would have had a ‘Jack and Jill’ bathroom, walk-in-closet, and a separate room in the back that came off of mine that made it look gigantic. The rest of the house looked like it could belong to a celebrity; it set my hopes really high. That was the second house we looked at, and it was “too modern” for my mom, so we kept looking. The last two days, we looked at schools. The one I would have gone to was huge, and I definitely would have gotten lost if I went there, but even the school looked like celebrities could go there. Eventually, my indecisive dad never accepted the job offer, and we ended up not moving. Ever since this incident, I believe in change. I would have had to change my entire lifestyle. Change to me means that everything would be different. I would have to make new friends, go to a new school, and live in a different house. It’s not a bad thing, but it’s not the best either. Almost moving connects to change because it would have changed my life and my future. The different schooling, the new people I hang around with and the new environment would all be a big change for me. I came to believe in change and adjustment, because if we never went to Charlotte to look at what would have been my life, I don’t think I would ever understand how much change others go through when they move, and how hard it is on them. So far, change has benefited me in many ways. It helped me transition from the middle school to high school. I think it will help me a lot in the future when I go to college or move into a house, when I start paying bills and when I begin my career. With change, also comes acceptance, and I’ve learned that it is important to accept change in life.

The Haunted House

By Brianna Alfieri

“Ring! Ring!” As the school bell rings and we all cheer. “It is Halloween!

Finally we can go out and get candy!” exclaimed everyone. My friend Ruth and I

were all ready to go out trick-or-treating, but my friend Jasmine had a different

idea. “Hey guys, let’s go to a haunted house tonight instead of going boring

old trick-or-treating like we do every year. What do you guys say?” stated Jas-

mine. I was a little unsure at first, but I decided that I wanted to go. “Do you want to go Ruth?” I stated. She was unsure at first but Jasmine

talked her into going. We then left school, and were off to the haunted house. As we approached the house I could just see how old and gross it was.

Jasmine rang the old rusty doorbell and the old squeaky door opened slowly. It

was pitch black like the midnight sky. We stepped inside and the door slammed

shut behind us, a dim light appeared in the distance. As we walked more toward

the light, it just seemed to get farther and farther away. Ruth got frightened so

she turned to the door, but it would not open. Jasmine and I both tried to open

it, but it would not budge. Ruth started to panic, but I calmed her down and just

said that we have to find another way out. We walked further into the house. I felt a cool breeze, like as if someone

just blew cool air down my back. As we walked in even further, I could just taste

the wet damp house, the smell was so strong it was like I was eating soggy

moldy bread. In the distance I could hear the pitter-patter of tiny mice feet. The

werewolves howled, and Ruth tensed up. Finally Jasmine found a candle and a

lighter, so we were able to see. All I could see was the gooey strawberry color

blood that smelt like a garbage truck, dripping from the black hollow walls. Jas-

mine then got a little frightened too. I could smell the fear of my frightened

friends around me, and knew that it was time to bust out of this place. “A DOOR! A DOOR!” Ruth shouted. We tried to open it but that door was

locked too. We then rammed into the door, and it busted open. We all ran away

screaming back to my house. I went to go inside and Jasmine stated, “Maybe

trick-or-treating would not have been so bad after all.”

Artwork By Cristina Horuzy

Artwork By Linda Buffington

Artwork Below By Cristina Horuzy

I start out majestically maroon Very shy and quiet Secretive and reserved And once I’m ready, I’m chilly grey Confident, laid back Loud and outgoing And then sometimes I get Red By Marwan Zoweil

Where I’m From

Part of me is cucumber green... Cool and collected, Calm and relaxed

Not very serious and not worrying. But deep inside me is another part…

Lilac purple, Insightful and deep,

Vulnerable and weak. But also in a state of peace, Both of them reflecting me.

By Ciara Brophy

April hops in

with high hopes for jokes.

Coming along with that fresh spring smell,

with the birds flying high above

And chirping in the trees

Then half of spring glides away.

By Emily Rienzo

April trudges in bringing rain and flowers

It slips on the wet ground and leaps into the fresh air Then struts away in the damp grass.

By Shannon Zimmerman

Artwork Below By Caitlyn Ullman

Courage Poem

By Luis Rivera, Tommy Shafer, and Chris Rowe

Courage means to fight your fears Courage means to push through a rough time

Courage means to fight for your country

People become courageous when they overcome fears People become courageous when they want to reach a goal or overcome an obstacle

People become courageous when they look back

My grandfather is courageous because he stood up against cancer

My grandpa is very courageous because he was poor and became successful in life My uncle Bill was courageous because he got the Medal of Honor in Vietnam

People show courage by doing what they need to do no matter what.

People show courage when they have to stand up for what they love and for their passion

People show courage by pushing through no matter what the cost.

Artwork Below By Kyle Masawa