Introducing Creative Claws, a vibrant gallery space curated by The Panther Post, where students' artistic talents shine brightly.
Join us in celebrating the rich tapestry of creativity within our school community as we showcase a diverse array of artworks for you, the reader, to enjoy.
By Val Mendez
Most of us know before we bite into a fruit that it is rotten. Most of us, after seeing that, would toss the fruit away, moving on without providing it with the power to make us ill. I did not.
I could smell the rotting fruit from a mile away, and yet there was something that drew me into it. Perhaps it was my curious nature. Perhaps it was the fact that there was nothing else around us, just the rotting Fruit and me in some sort of subliminal space that we created. Perhaps it was the fact that we had no one else to go to. The Fruit had no one who was willing to bite into them, and I had no other fruit to bite into. And so, naturally, I bit into the Fruit, and the Fruit finally had someone who bit into them; someone finally chose them despite their nature.
If God made the forbidden fruit, it was to be bitten, or at least that’s what it seemed like to me at the moment.
After the first bite, the bitter, rotting taste overwhelmed me. However, I had already taken that first bite, so I couldn't back down anymore. All I could taste, all I could breathe in was the rotting Fruit. Despite the unpleasantries, I had committed myself to the Fruit by taking the first bite. I didn’t say anything, didn’t complain, because if I did, I’d be hurting the Fruit when they were already hurt enough. A reject, a fruit no one wanted to bite, and now I decided to give them a go.
The Fruit no longer felt worthless, and I felt like I had a purpose: to eat the Fruit and make sure they felt worthy, no matter the taste or how much it hurt. With every bite, I made sure the Fruit felt loved and told them that they didn’t taste as bad as everyone else said they did.
The more I bit into the fruit, the more the bitter, metallic taste burned my throat. The Fruit asked if it was too much, if I hated them just like everyone else. By then, it wasn’t too much because it was what I had gotten used to. I also didn’t hate them. Rather, I found myself growing fond of their rotten nature. After all, I didn’t have any other fruit to bite into, and they didn’t have anyone willing to bite into them.
The bitterness from the Fruit burned my throat so much I’d throw up every day, but I didn’t let them know. Even when the bitterness and the vomiting became routine, it didn’t hurt any less. I grew tired, sluggish, pale, and weak from all the vomiting. The spark within me slowly diminished, but I didn’t dare stop eating the Fruit. I didn’t dare stop because if I did, the Fruit would feel worthless again, and it’d be all my fault. I didn’t stop because the Fruit would feel that they are not worth biting into, not worth loving. I didn’t stop because I didn’t want the Fruit to believe that I was just like the others who claimed that they were nothing more than their rotting flesh. With every bite, with the bitterness burning my throat, with the bile rising from within, with my depleting energy, sense of self, and color, I refused to stop because I was all the Fruit had… and the Fruit was all I had. The pain and hurt didn’t matter just as long as the Fruit was happy. All that mattered to me was that they felt happy and worthy of love, but their doubts of my loyalty proved that my efforts would never be enough. Yet, I convinced myself that if I was persistent enough, the Fruit would finally realize their worth, that they’re more than just their rotting flesh.
It was just me and the Fruit in our own subliminal space as I continued to bite into them like I needed the burning bitterness and daily vomiting to live. I gave the Fruit anything and everything they could have ever wanted: love, loyalty, devotion, acts of selflessness. I made them feel wanted. I made them feel worthy. I provided the Fruit with everything they lacked, and I never once complained about the pain it caused me.
The Fruit didn’t give much back in return. Whenever I’d pause taking bites to talk about what I craved, the Fruit made it about themselves. When this happened, I’d reassure them once more and continue biting into them to let them know their worth.
The cycle continued: take a bite, feel the bitterness, show them love, embrace the burn, vomit out the taste, feel the weakness, the exhaustion, the depletion of my being, repeat.
At least, that was until the Fruit told me to stop because they didn’t want me to bite into them anymore. They didn’t want me to love them anymore, to give them my all anymore. The Fruit wanted a “break” from me. They wanted someone else to bite into them and tell them of their worth. And so I set them back down where I had found them, and left that subliminal space that we had shared.
Even after I left, the bitterness remained. The burn in my throat didn’t diminish, the pain still present. I was still tired, weak, my sense of self gone. I still threw up even when I was no longer biting into the Rotten Fruit. I realized that I had, too, become rotten. I was left alone with no fruit to bite into. Or, so I thought.
I wasn’t alone for long, other fruits offered themselves, ones that weren’t rotten. Fruits that smelled sweet from afar and drew me in because of the sweetness of their nature. I was drawn in not solely because of my curiosity or because I had no other choice, but because they invited me over.
When I took a bite out of just one of the fruits, I wasn’t met with the metallic bitterness from before. I was met with a sweet, sugary taste, one that brought me warmth and happiness rather than sadness and pain.
I realized that I didn’t have to live the rest of my life with bitterness that burns my throat. I didn’t have to bite into rotten fruits for the rest of my life. There were other fruits out there who weren’t rotten and were willing to give back the same way I would. And so I slowly bit into more fruits, keeping the sweet ones in my life and leaving the Rotten Fruit behind.
Over time, the burning bitterness in my throat was washed away by the sugary taste of the sweet fruits. Sure, the bitterness the Rotten Fruit left presents itself in other ways, but the sweet fruits in my life help me wash away the remaining vile taste whenever it reappears. The sweet fruits are there for me in a way that the Rotten Fruit never was.
Most of us know before we bite into a fruit that it is rotten, but sometimes, we bite into it anyway. Once you take that first bite, it may be hard to leave, because you find comfort in the bitter burn they leave in your throat after every bite. Regardless of the comfort and the attachment we feel towards that bitterness, we deserve more. We deserve to bite into sweet fruits that overwhelm the taste buds with a sugary flavor and soothe the throat rather than burn it.
It takes courage to change your diet from rotten fruits to sweet fruits, but it is a change that you are strong enough to make and are worthy of fulfilling.
By Kasia Miller
O’ my hero of the people has lost hope,
Death has sunken its fangs into ones he previously loved instead his foe,
O’ my hero doesn't have the strength to serve but to sacrifice, he´ll take his chance and lay it softly on Mother Fate´s hands,
O’ my hero looks up to the stars that look down on him in pity and disbelief,
¨My love and my comrades, you have taken from me, what sin have I committed to deserve such a thing?!¨
He shouts and screams, but neither are heard, except by the sword in his hand that has started to flirt,
O´ my hero has been memorialized, but at what cost, with gifts given by the gods, but a death granted by the devil.
By Lucy N. Doan
They say swans spend their whole life
searching for their true love.
In a way, I’m a swan.
When their mate dies, they die too.
Killing themselves because of a broken heart.
In a way, I am a swan.
Swans stay loyal to their partner their whole lives.
They love till they die.
They’re birds made for love.
I am a swan.
I was made to love,
give too much of it, want too much of it.
I was made to love.
I can spend my whole life searching,
And I'd only ever want you.
I am a swan.
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