Isaiah Sneed, '24
If You Could Watch the Marigolds Fly
Here you are, now here I am
Watching you stare like a Siamese cat
mesmerized by a light coming from the sun
Yet your reflective eyes do not signal alert
Those little azure sapphires of yours
Looked as if they were chiseled
into a wheel by the Mesopotamians themselves
(I understand you’re not that old)
A look of awe and captivation
Came from your dilated eyes glistening
Like stars radiating black, blue, and white
So bright, just like the aurora borealis
Glee in your face formed a slight smile
Waves of baggy wrinkles sailed upward
when we listened to the sax play
Watching the sidewalkers pass by
You were a connoisseur of collectibles
Like valuable cattle made of wax and metal and you the vaquero
Other treasures were deeper, however, couldn’t be seen
Couldn’t be held, couldn’t be wrangled in at all
You could not either. You were like an obsessed adventurer
Digging through tornadoes of dust, boxes, and hoarders’ domains
Your brown cane was like a machete against jungle vines
People looked, stared, thought “just Insane”
During those times I felt like your sidekick
I trekked through that Amazon of antiques and cardboard.
Joyously I walked through those fire hazards
Again people just shook their heads, thinking “Crazy”
Still I foolishly loved it, the time and
Stories told. So naive and innocent I was.
Innocence. . . Something you lost
Yet found a way to give to me
Now back to your gaze
I followed your line of vision
It was like thick red lasers were
Protruding and reflecting from your corneas.
They formed a perimeter around the target
Leading me to the rectangle that was much more
A brilliantly innovative photo, an oiled tapestry
It felt lighter, brighter yet coarse.
Who would have thought that something like this
Would have made you wiggle your rooted finger tips
You moved them so excitedly like
Tracing outlines as if you had created it
The picture was excellent, its projection surpassed tv
Don’t get me wrong tv is certainly better(We both would know)
Still there was something about this representation
It was as if it were speaking
No. Rather telling a tale
The dull gray bench radiated as a woman sat in peace
Grasping a pear among nothing except a minute plant
You’re proclivity for tumult contrasted this
The plant's lime and leafy apparel was plain.
Yet it may have been bold enough to compete in contests
It’s designer, the gardner, lacked creativity
You were a gardener once too
Much better I would add as it was your art
The lively verdant aura of your vegetation came from your thumb
You're wearing an old fiber brown hat. Lifeless, scroungy white gloves
Were on hands, holding clippers, your brush stroking life
Pears from your domain outmatched the painting’s.
I reanalyze. Funny how something small fills the void
imbuing the beauty. The pear.
You lost the better half of yours.
It reminds you of the plant you had so long
It reminds you of the one you lost
The image is frozen, beautiful, so freeing yet trapped behind a wall
Made of clear plexiglass (Do you feel trapped as well?)
This Victorian photograph entrances you
I haven’t seen you like this in a while
I guess I should be glad but I do not know
You are quite hard to figure out
You are more convoluted and spun than a tree’s root
I suppose anyone would after losing their foundation
People never think of the gardener losing a root. Especially you.
You were second to none, yet perfect you were not
Sometimes there was clumpy soil, even bad dirt
Unfortunately(at the worst times) you threw that dirt all over
It was your oldest plant time and time again
Overcompensating for you
For better or worse, your nature resists submission
Deference exited the room the second you walked in
Dogmatism entered the ring after its last swing at the punching bag
Oh, what they were in for (We knew, I knew too well)
There are those where unpredictability, it’s like a sense of direction
They clench it closely, like a compass with no arrow
(I don’t know where you are going, you don’t know where you are going)
People are just a fickle sight
This uniqueness demarcates them in observation.
You see all angles. What lies and has lied behind, in front, and ahead.
Laughter and tears, whispers and yelling, a whole conglomeration.
Mix of hurt and hurting others (We’ve all been there)
Your favorite plant hurt many times, it wilted
You miss that plant and you must understand I do too
The thorns involved there many try to unearth
No. You bury it (I do too).
It’s hard for me to tell why you do so
Is it your way to process your ache, your guilt?
You go at it alone, like it's you against the world
Stop trying to face it alone
You try to stay busy and I wonder why
You keep working tirelessly to no end
You try to cover up every plant
What fuels this need, the need to do just everything?
You know I see you pull out the weeds and chuck them
Sometimes they would pervade into other gardens
Why do you dispose those weeds so carelessly
Why do you put your garbage on others, on me?
Fair to say that you are not perfect
Yet neither am I or anyone else
It’s like people have their heads in dirt.
You truly are a funny one
You are the marigold. Yes, the marigold.
Your orange brilliance still radiates.
Symbolizing a stubbornness and ‘rootedness’
Something many resent and many desire
Many see you as insignificant but I see you
The bruises endure, the odds stacked against you
Yet you still thrive. Not just thrive
But you fly, you defy the odds.
I see you floating in the sky
In a state of tranquility none understand
I observe your eyes again
That look. That’s the look I have not seen in so long
It’s a wonder and a strange relief at the same time
But I see you still entranced by the image
No one can reach you now. I fear I’m losing you
I just do not want to lose you.
Your fluctuating lids, they hold open though
As you continue taking in all that you have and have lost
Oddly that look, that smile remains
Like an orange oriole, it’s crooked, but soars
I perceive those eyes again, seeing my reflection
I see myself in you and you in I
I suppose that we're intertwined
There you are and there I am too.
The Senior and Halloween: Here We Are
I had spent hours upon hours on my computer. Working on my numerous essay prompts has been really draining, not to mention the fact that homework from school and extracurriculars are all absorbing of my time. Every day always feels like it starts ... and then it's instantly 11:00 pm. I’ve written so much I feel like an author, like an Edgar Allan Poe. It certainly doesn’t help that I suck at English. I feel sleep deprived and deprived of the freedom of senior year they told me I would be enjoying.
I always looked at the senior class laughing and thought to myself, “Man those guys are having the time of their lives. They’re lucky,” while we juniors last year were like zombies constantly overexerted by our studies during a critical year that makes or breaks your college goals. Senior year was going to be a light year, they told me. We were finally going to catch a break on homework and stuff. What a bunch of no-good liars. Sorry, by the way, my name is Miles Cooper. Good to meet you.
If you’ve been following me during my high school career, my greatest moments of excitement always seem to be not like the typical high school student. It’s never when I took the SAT, went to my first dance or when I asked my girlfriend to go to prom. (Don’t tell her I said that and--don’t get me wrong--I care for her and was ecstatic when she said yes).
However, for me things always seem to take a weird turn with my heart rate increasing during that wonderfully horrid holiday season. You guessed it, Halloween. I’m sorry but I have to say it. I can not stand Halloween. I have run from seniors at night into an alley, fought a rabid dog, and honestly I still can’t explain what happened at Fog Fest last year. Anyway back to my soliloquy about the dreaded college essays. Night after night, writing an essay and then rewriting it after you read it to a friend and they politely advise you to rewrite it. It’s funny how people can be nice and courteous when they’re calling your work absolute garbage. It was October 31 and my applications were due tomorrow since I was applying for early action. I had finally felt kinda good about them. That night someone rang my doorbell, and as I opened it, there stood my friend Owen and his little cousin Teddy dressed up in a pirate halloween costume.
“Argh!!” said Teddy as he spoke with a poor pirate accent. “Place the sweet booty of candy in me bag, matey. The more Kit-Kats the better.”
I could only shake my head in amusement as he directed me with a foam sword as I met his demands. “Here you go swashbuckler,” I said as he opened his candy bag, feeling a pride showcasing his bulky eyepatch, ruffled shirts with a gray outlining as well as a black pirate hat that was almost twice as big as his head. Man I miss those days. Owen looked at us like we were clowns, but even he could not stop himself from laughing a bit
“ ’Sup, Miles,” Owen said trying to subvert his amusement
“ ‘Sup Owen,” I responded as we fistbumped.
“Are you ready?” he asked me.
“Ready for what??” I responded with a perplexed expression on my face
He mouthed out one word silently, and once he said it it struck me. Babysitting. As you can guess Teddy does not like being considered a baby since he is in the 5th grade. Owen and I had promised our moms that we would take him trick or treating for the night. I almost forgot because of all the work that I… well you’ve heard me complain about it enough.
“Oh right!” I responded then looked down right at Teddy and mimicked an even poorer pirate accent. “Are ye ready for a night of pillaging the neighborhood candy. We’ll fill your candy bag so full you’ll be able to fill a whole ship. Once the other kids see your bag they’ll be swabbing the poop deck for sure.”
“Alright!!” cheered little Teddy as his face illuminated with joy as he jumped to give me a high five. I still don’t like the holiday, but could you break a ten year old’s heart? I grabbed my coat, locked the door and walked out with both of them. He walked in front of both me and Owen, as we were totally underdressed compared to our peg-legged companion. Owen wore a sweatshirt and jeans while I had on a plain jacket and khakis. We both talked as we began to walk the streets.
“How's everything been? With college apps and everything,” asked Owen in a tone that was more like a friend checking in.
“It’s been… alright, “ said I with a slight pause and little confidence. “Not gonna lie it's been tough trying to juggle school, family time, girlfriend time, and social life with the apps. I’m glad they're almost done though. What about you?”
“Same here. It’s definitely been a lot of stress,” he said, which was showcased by how he tried rubbing the tension in his neck away. “I’m still working since I’m not applying early. My counselor recommended going the regular pathway. I’m still targeting my number one as my best option.”
We continued talking as the three of us walked up the steps and had Teddy ring the Jamesons’ doorbell. They are a nice couple with two sons and a daughter in high school. Once they opened the door and came out with a big bowl of sweets, Teddy almost started jumping with excitement. He gave them the pirate routine again and they fell for it as they gave him, like, 15 pieces of candy.
“Now Mr. Pirate,” said Ms. Jameson as she put the candy in Teddy’s bag, “don’t forget to brush your teeth after you eat all these treats tonight. You’re gonna get a lot just based on your great costume.”
“Definitely” reaffirmed Mr. Jameson, who then looked at me and Owen and said hi to us. “You boys stay safe out there and tell your parents we say hi”
“Yes sir. Thanks Mr. and Mrs. Jameson. You both have a great night.” I said.
“Thank you very much. Argh!” said Teddy, as chipper as ever as the three of us walked away.
We passed five more houses and--I’m not going to lie--Teddy was getting some buzz and attention with that pirate costume. It’s not just him as we saw little kids frolicking in the night as monsters, superheroes, civil service workers and, of course, our pirate. One mom was wearing a brown kangaroo outfit, with her little joey in her pouch with a rattle and lollipop in their hand. Little kids always have a charisma where they can get anything they want. Lucky.
Owen and I were still talking about senior life and such. “How’s Jessie doing?” I asked, being that she is Owen’s girlfriend and all.
“She’s doing good,” he said with a bit of a blush. "She's already picking out her prom dress in October.”
“Yeah,” Leilani’s doing the same thing. Man, they are excited for prom,” I said with a smile and a bit of a laugh myself. “As smart as they both are, I guess they can find the time for that and college stuff.”
“Yeah. I know it’s been a lot for Jessie. A lot of big decisions.”
“Where is she applying? Berkeley, Harvard , Princeton, Michigan State?” I inquired.
“Not exactly,” said Owen slowly “Don’t spread this around but you know her dad got laid off right?”
“Yeah. I think my parents told me,” I said somewhat confused.
“Well with that going on, times financially have been tough for her and her family especially since she has two siblings,” Owen said, looking down on the ground. His tone was sympathetic. “She’s not telling anyone, even her parents, but she’s thinking about doing community college or trade school to make things easier for them. She sometimes airs this out to me but she does not want pity from anyone. Not even her parents know about her plan because they’d never let her go through with it.”
“Wow. That’s a lot. Sorry dude,” I said, offering my own sympathies.
“Don’t be. She sure is not. I keep trying to talk her out of it but to not avail. She’s got too much potential, but I can’t judge her at all. She’s also got good intentions,” Owen remarked.
“Yeah. Everyone’s got a different plan for post high school life,” I said in an understanding tone. “Leilani, on the other hand, has just been overwhelmed lately. She’s filling out almost 20 applications, including seven to Ivy Leagues. Her mom’s putting a lot of pressure on her and it feels like at some point she is going to burn out. One day she told me she was up late one night. She didn’t go to bed until almost 3:00 am and then had to be at school at 7:30am to meet with the student council and the principal. She needs apps to be over.”
“That bites, man,” replied Owen
“Like the people at our school,” I said, “some are choosing college, some are not, and others do not have a choice.”
Owen and I kept walking behind Teddy as we watched him score on almost every house. He was milking that pirate costume. Owen and I just could not help but laugh to ourselves every now and then.
“Ahh,” I exhaled, taking a deeping sigh. “I’m really nervous”
“Yeah” replied Owen somewhat dejectedly
I continued, “I feel like I’ve put so much into my essays, answering questions, and trying to seem like the ‘ideal college student’, whatever that means. What if we get rejected? What if we can’t survive in college away from those we’ve been forever close to? What if it--”
“Miles, chill” said Owen as calmly and coolly as ever, “You’re spiraling right now. You’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.”
“You don’t know that for sure Owen. No one does. What if my essays aren’t good enough and cost me in the end?”
“Hey dude, you’re a smart and competitive student. Trust me,” Owen reaffirmed, trying to reassure me.
I quietly just shook my head.
As we were approaching another house, this time Teddy rang the doorbell. As it rang, a chill struck us. The neighborhood cleared and was almost desolate. No noise, no screaming kids. We looked around and there were only a few kids in costumes, but there were no adults with them. They started to approach us. As they got closer their faces were covered and the less and less they looked like kids.
“Hello?!” I said confused and nervous as they kept creeping up closer to the steps of the doorway. “Who are you guys and where are your parents?” They kept walking slowly like a band of soldiers.
Owen turned to try to grab Teddy as his protective big cousin, but all he swiped at was thin air. “Miles,” he said with his voice increasing, “where’s Teddy?!” I could not hear him as I was paralyzed with fear.
“Those are some nice costumes,” I said, kinda laughing to mask my increasing distress.
They stopped, ominously in uniform. One figure dressed as a warrior, a trojan or a spartan of some sort stepped out in front. He had green armor with a color coordinated sword, shield and helmet. “Who said anything about costumes?” replied the figure. “Ah!!” The spartan started to grow and grow and so did the other figures. These were not kids at all. They all grew 3 feet and got bulkier too. Their faces looked foam like but they certainly were more intimidating as they rose. There were about twelve of them. There was a tiger, an elephant, a colonial soldier, a duck, a cardinal, two bears, a tree, and a bulldog in red. Then behind them was a guy dressed in blue with horns, like a blue devil, a beef cattle, with long horns ready to charge. We walked back slowly behind these imposing and horrific monsters. These were not your average trick or treaters. As we looked around us, we were trapped like rats, surrounded by creatures that made all sorts or roars, yells, crows, and sounds ready to tear us apart.
Owen, still somewhat scared, gathered some bravado and yelled, “Where's my cousin?!! Where’s Teddy?!!!” Then we heard a long laughing noise and then a loud “Argh!”
We both turned around slowly and then above us on top of the house was a pirate who looked as big and imposing as his beastly comrades. Now there were 13. As we looked around us the spartan and the pirate readied their swords and they produced a reflection. They were not foam at all.
“Owen?!” I said completely peeing my pants at this point. He returned the same quivering look.
As the spartan kept nearing us with his sword pointed out, I looked around and saw a garden hose behind me. I grabbed it and threw it at him as he went tumbling down. Owen and I jumped off the steps onto the side, rolled onto the grass and jetted like there was no tomorrow. The spartan quickly regathered himself and as I looked back I could see him with his shield in his left hand and his sword extended in his right.
He shouted “Get them!” pointing his sword directly at us. Once he gave that command the creatures, making their various noises, began to chase us.
“Aah! Help!” Owen and I yelled repeatedly in panic.
After 30 seconds of running, Owen, being the person he naturally is, said jokingly “Hey, just like freshman year, right?”
I responded, already losing breath, “Only you could find the humor in a life or death situation.”
As we were running, two large shadows were cast over us. It was two birds, the duck and the cardinal. They both swooped in and tried to grab us with their talons.
“Quack!!” The duck continued to air out as it continued to swipe at me and claw me with those knives on its feet.
“Ow!” I yelped as I could feel that the stupid birdbrain’s talon had ripped a hole in the sleeve of my jacket.(Since when do ducks have talons anyway?). We found some refuge when we went into the motor bike track building. We hid behind the bumpers on the ground. I could feel the dirt of the track piercing my face as we hid. The birds landed and looked through the windows. After a minute they had left and the both of us stood up and took a sigh of relief.
“Oh. Thank goodness,” said Owen. “ Miles, what is going on?”
“How should I know, Owen?!” I said in the loudest whisper I could. “I’m telling you dude. It’s this season. Weird stuff is always happening to us at this time of the year. Like we’re magnets for oddities or something. This is why I can’t stand…” I stopped.
(Revving noise)
“What was that?” I asked apprehensively. Then Owen and I looked at each other and saw a light come on. It was a motorcycle on the track and on it was that blue devil creature. He revved some more with his cackling laugh that sounded like gargling egg shells. He pressed full speed ahead and began to approach us, popping wheelies and everything. Owen and I began to panic and started running on the track; then I remembered that we were in a motorbike facility. I saw two available and then pointed them out to Owen.
“Get on!” I commanded as we jumped on our respective bikes and drove off as the cackling blue devil continued to chase us. We rode around the track and then went off of it, when I increased my velocity, thereby increasing my acceleration, increasing my force, and drove through the glass door breaking it as we rode off into the streets. (Thank you physics class.) The blue devil and other monsters were on our trail when Owen and I looked at each other and gave an affirmative nod. With the blue devil biker way out in front of his allies, we performed an act of stupidity and bravery. We aligned our bikes and sandwiched him between the both of us. As all three of our bikes collided we jumped off, but he fell into his crowd, making all of them fall down. A cloud of black dust from the broken motorbikes had enveloped our pursuers.
“Nice job, Owen,” I said as we fistbumped.
Our daring plan had worked, but then we noticed the black smoke disappearing and being consumed in the trunk of the elephant who had a crimson red “A” on his body. Following his deep inhale he blew his trunk with the elephant trumpet sound at us and the wind blew us back. We were on the ground as the monsters regained their footing and charged at us. The two bears gained speed as did the tiger, and they all showed their claws. Owen and I took a left on Madison Street into an alley. (I know what you’re thinking, going into a dark alley is a bad idea in any story). The Madison Street alley has a break in the fence with an opening underneath that you can crawl through. As we jumped into the alley, the bears and tiger jumped as well I went underneath the fence and watched Owen throw trash cans at the beasts to slow them down.
“Come on Owen!” I yelled through the fence as I reached underneath and thrusted my hand out to him to pull him through. The bruin bear got up and roared chasing Owen as he grabbed my hand and slid underneath the fencing just before the bear clawed him. As we breathed heavily we could see the bear banging on the fence and trying to scratch through it. We both started to laugh a bit
“Ha! Sorry Yogi!” said Owen mockingly, “Too bad I’m not a picnic basket.”
Bang! Bang! Owen and I ducked behind some more trash bins. Shots were being fired from above. I looked up and saw the colonial soldier. (I think my history teacher said they were called minutemen). He was on top of the roof of the other building angling and firing his old Remington rifle down at us. “Oh shoot,” said Owen. I looked up for a second and saw he was reloading. He had the high ground, but we had our moment of opportunity
“Let’s move it,” I said as Owen and I jumped out from our odious protection and we could hear the loud firing noise echoing in the alley. I felt the metal capsules whisk past my face.
Once we got out of his line of shot, we kept running away as all the beasts with foam faces continued to hunt us. Like bloodhounds they were relentless, all of them, scouring the town for the scent of two high school boys on this night. The various yells and noises were curdling. They were the predators and we were their prey. As we were walking we found a place where they could not find us. We were going to hide out at Kapler High School. We had some hideouts there from sophomore year. However when we got to the building, the school looked demolished. Mold spots could be seen from ten feet away. There were broken boards and windows. The whole school gave credence to the word dilapidation.
“What the…?” I said, perplexed.
“Our school looks like garbage?!!” blurted Owen.
It wasn’t just that. It looked like a tornado struck it and then like a bully came back and beat it up some more. Our place of learning. The block that stabilized our social circles. Our sanctuary of safety.
Following this another laughing noise appeared and we saw another figure at the top of the school building.
“Ha Ha Ha! Ahoy ye scallywags!” said the pirate with his sword and large sack in hand.
“Run!” shouted Owen. As we began to dash the pirate took his sack and dumped his contents on the ground which turned into a wave that ensnared us. It consumed us like a tsunami, and the both of us were pinned. I could hear the gross chuckle of our assailant. Owen and I got up in a crouching position as we rubbed our heads from the rush of pain. We felt the objects and saw the wave of sweets that engulfed us. We both picked up one of them and in my palm I analyzed it closely.
“Candy??” said Owen bewildered. Once we saw the piles and piles of sweets, the pirate jumped off the school roof and parachuted using his sack like a parachute. The brown bag inflated like a balloon as he landed safely right in front of us.
“Aargh!” said the pirate once more, and then it hit me.
“Owen. The pirate outfit, the full bag of candy, and the mediocre accent. Is that…?”
“No way,” said Owen interrupting me in disbelief.
The pirate grabbed his sack and threw it at Owen.
“No, Ted–” yelled Owen desperately, but his voice was cut off as the knapsack muffled him and entrapped his whole body, the outline of which could be seen through the brown sack as he squirmed like a worm trying to get free. His muffled screams were horrifying to hear.
“Owen, no!” I yelled running over to him until the pirate jumped in front of me and pushed me down to the ground. I fell hard, and my ruined sleeve started to ooze blood. That bird had cut me badly, andI put my other arm over it to apply pressure. As I looked up I could see the duck and cardinal above us, encircling like vultures.
“Take him away mateys,” said the pirate, and as the duck swooped down his talons grabbed the sack and flew away with my friend. They took him away from right in front of the high school, and we were separated as I watched helplessly on the ground, crawling slowly backwards from the pirate.
“Teddy?!” I asked in total disbelief. Oddly the pirate figure approached me and then stopped and turned away. Behind him came the spartan, the green warrior. I began to crawl backwards in terror.
“AH! Who are you? What are you? What do you want? Where have you taken my friend?” I asked frantically in my state of panic. The spartan threw down his sword and shield and kept walking slowly to me with his buff and warrior-like persona.
“Ha Ha!” the spartan laughed maniacally. “I regret to inform you that while your friend will be moving on to the next stage, you will not. You are not worthy! You have no tenacity, no instincts, no kleos. Your intelligence will not match even with our newest foot soldiers.”
“What? What are you even talking about? Kle—what?”
He reached for his back and out came his ax, a long labrys ax which he extended upwards
“You have been rejected!!!” As he said those demeaning and awful words, he smashed his ax against the ground, and a crevice began to form in the ground. I tried to run but as the crack progressed the ground opened up and I fell hopelessly into that crack, a dark abyss of nothingness. Suddenly I was floating in the middle of darkness, like a vacuum of space. I saw the Spartan above, and as the light began to disappear I could hear him laugh as the crack closed and I was trapped. Floating in the nothingness.
“Man. I really can not stand Halloween! None of this makes sense!” I yelled hopelessly as if someone could hear my cry.
As I placed my head in my hands I could hear a beeping noise that produced a small luminescence. With a swimming motion, I floated over to it in the darkness and I saw that it was a computer. I looked closer and it was an application. My application. Then a clock appeared and was winding down, and a piece of paper appeared and then began to burn. I started to panic in fear. What if I’m not good enough? What if I’m not worthy? The fire nearly consumed everything, but then I remembered losing Owen. Owen! Something came over me.
“Stop!” I shouted at myself. “I know who I am, I know the type of person I am. I’ve worked my tail off. Regardless of what people think of me, what they think I should be, where I should go, how my application should look, what life I should choose, these along with my own fears are not going to stop me. I am validated not by some organization, not some prestigious college acceptance, or not by the career that people tell me I should have! And you know what, my writing skills are good enough for me! I’m no author, but I don’t have to be. I have my friends, family, home, and loved ones. Knowing I have that gives me all the confidence I need. I’m done overthinking it. I have my goals and I’m not gonna let anyone, including me, stop them from happening.” I looked at the computer screen and saw the word submit. I went over and before the fire consumed the computer I clicked the button. I did it. I pressed submit. It was over.
Instantly, my eyes went blurry and it was as if everything had just rewinded. I know that’s a weird word, but for some reason it felt like someone had pressed the remote and my tv show just rewinded all the way back. But that’s not possible; that would be fictional.
I found myself back on the steps. As I regrouped I could hear Owen’s deep bass like voice in the background, “Hey dude, you’re a smart and competitive student. Trust me.”
“What?” I said in a dazed voice as I swear that he said something like that before.
Owen reaffirmed, “I said you are gonna be ok, dude.”
I shook my head, looked at him with a half smile and laughed underneath my breath.
“You know what Owen, you’re right.” You should have seen his face. His eyes were bulging out so much in shock as if I had told him that I was going to shave my head or that I actually liked Halloween. (I still don’t and never will).
“Wow! Ok,” replied Owen, still somewhat astonished. In the middle of all this, I could hear the doorbell ring as Teddy withdrew his index finger.
“Teddy, Wait!!,” I mewled as the door began to open.
“Ahoy!,” said the man humorously behind the door cradling the almost empty bowl of candy. “I like your costume, son. It’s one of the best ones I’ve seen all night.”
I could see Teddy trying to hold down his mile wide grin, trying to keep his composure and his character.
“Argh!,” Teddy replied, “Thank ye for the compliment. Please dump the remaining contents of your booty into me stash.”
The man did as the pirate kindly requested saying, “Here you go! Sorry that I only had Kit-Kats left.”
“Ah, perfect! Me bounty is complete. Thank ye!” said Teddy, bubbling with joy. He turned and started to walk slowly counting his boot—- I mean, his stash of candy.
“It’s nice of you guys to be taking him. Nice kid. You all enjoy the rest of the night. It’s been a good one so far.”
You can imagine what I was thinking to myself, but Owen and I thanked him and walked behind Teddy.
“Hey Teddy, how much candy did you score tonight?” I asked. He showed me and it looked like it could fill an ocean or make a tid– Nah!
Owen looked and said, “Nice job little man” as they exchanged a fistbump. Teddy was already on a sugar high without even eating a piece of sweets.
“Ay! “Teddy said. “For coming with me, lads, I shall share this bounty with thee. Tonight we feast like kings at the royal table.”
“No, that's okay, I don't think my teeth could take it now,” I said. Owen said something similar as Teddy unwrapped his first lollipop and smacked it between his lips.
“‘Twas a good night, mateys!” he said, sucking the pop as if it were a mouthwatering steak.
“Ay it was, captain,” I admitted. “Ay it was.”
New Year's Eve
by Isaiah Sneed
How loud the crowd was, Ten thousand at least
Along with the Nine-hundred floats showcased in the parade
People arrived at Eight filling the main street
Passing cars on HWY Seven, now congested and delayed
You’ll notice the frustrated drivers in all Six lanes
Near the party’s beaming lights and the Five ringing chimes
Evident of some drivers were personal matters on their brains
Whereas others yelled Four letter words, unsuited for children’s rhymes
Yellow notes, Three, crumpled on the ground as I finished my resolution
Eying from my Two foot window, I saw the crowd full of cheer
As just One time I recited my generic, annual conclusion
Regardless, it’s “for us all to be better and to have a HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
The Junior and Halloween: Fog Fest (I know, it’s getting kind of repetitive)
It was as if a hawk was staring right into my soul, and I didn’t even know it as I was on my phone. He approached me, like a stalker in the night. (It was really midday, but the fog made it seem later). There he was, walking so slowly and so silently that I didn’t even notice him. In his hand was a weapon, so destructive to the masses, yet at first look it seemed to be an inconspicuous object. The figure came in closer, nearing me as I was watching sports highlights, oblivious to my surroundings. I had no chance. He was so close now I could feel his cold breath on my neck. An ominous feeling ran down my spine. He grabbed my phone and held the weapon right in front of my face, to my horror. Looking at it made me shudder inside as I knew the destruction it would wreak in people’s lives. The figure looked straight at me and said with a wicked smile, “Mr. Cooper, your break time is up. Now get back to your job at the snack tent” as he handed me it, the corn dog.
I replied, “Come on, Dad. I mean I feel like I’m a little old to be here, let alone sell corn dogs in an apron and a hat.”
He shook his head with a laughing expression saying, “Take this from a guy who remembers when the fest was filled with people wearing bell bottoms, you’re not too old for this, Miles.”
“Bell bottoms?” I said with a confused look on my face.
“Nevermind that,” replied Dad. (I still don’t know what they are.)
“This was one of your favorite places growing up. Now go enjoy yourself. Seriously. You can start by helping your uncle sell those confections you promised to help with."
That deadly sausage on a stick was still in my face.
“Alright, I guess you’re right,” I conceded reluctantly as I grabbed the exquisite entree loaded with saturated fats. Anyway, I had promised Uncle James I would help out at his booth.
Sorry. Let me give you some context. Fog Fest is an all-weekend festival we do in our town. It’s like a typical carnival filled with games, food, concerts, and knick knacks. Its name comes from the foggy weather, with which we are synonymous. The fest is the “thing” our town is known for and, you guessed it, it's during that wonderful holiday season, Halloween.
As I jogged over to the tent, I saw my cousin, Sophia, taking orders and working the cash register, while my uncle was grilling chicken and bagging kettle corn.
While putting on my gloves and apron I apologized, “Hey Uncle James. Soph. Sorry for being gone so long, I’ll get right to frying those dogs.”
“No worries, Miles,” Uncle James replied, “I got to show off my ambidexterity to the crowd by juggling the jawbreakers while popping the corn at the same time. Besides, it was hilarious watching your cousin over there try to work out the cash register. Someone complained about their change being a chocolate coin.”
“That was one time, Dad, plus I’ve done pretty well on this register, especially considering that we don’t have a computer to do the math for us,” she noted defensively.
“You seriously need a computer to tell you not to give chocolate as currency?” I remarked comically, “Anyway, the math is easy.”
Sophia responded, “Careful, Albert Einstein, I wouldn’t be pumping myself up if I were you. By the way, Mrs. Philips bought some corn dogs and said hi. Apparently you flunked your pre-calc test.” (These corn dogs are starting to get on my nerves, almost like Halloween).
“Dang it!” I said dejectedly.
“Yeah, so you should probably drink some humility juice when you pass the dispenser before you start frying the corn dogs,” she said automatically, making her dad and herself chuckle.
I could only shake my head with a half-smile while taking the walk of shame.
“Alright, you two, enough messing around,” Uncle James said, still somewhat laughing. “Now let's finish this last round of orders before the concert starts, so we can get up close.”
In the last 20 minutes we took tons of orders, prepared the snacks, and sent them out in record time. We were like a well-oiled machine. Once we finished, we took off our aprons, shut down the tent, and headed over to the stage where the band was about to play. I noticed that they were tuning their instruments, while the drummer was tuning the fog machine. I didn’t know too much about this group, so I grabbed a pamphlet to see what songs they were playing. First thing on the list, to no surprise, read “The Top 10 Halloween Tunes”.
I thought to myself, “You can’t be serious. This holiday is even influencing music like it’s Christmas or something.”
If I haven’t made it clear, this time of year is unbearable. For the past two years my halloween experience has revolved around nearly getting pummeled by seniors and almost being bitten by a rabid dog. Not to mention, when I was younger my parents used to put me in the most embarrassing outfits. It doesn’t make it any better when everyone you know has pictures of you that they constantly hold over your head. Anyway, when the band started to play the smoke machines began to spew their thick white clouds all over as people were jumping up and down in excitement. While people were dancing, I stood and watched. I'm not a little kid, and I’m not going to lie, I was bored and kind of wished I was at home. All of a sudden, the fog was becoming denser to the point where you could see less and less. The last thing I saw was a faint image of the drummer hitting the drums with his sticks.
“Hey Uncle James, what’s up with the fog?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but it feels off for some rea--” he said and then it stopped.
“Uncle James?” I uttered, confused, as I reached out and there was nothing. Now I was worried.
“Soph! Sophia, where are you?!” I yelled.
“Miles!” she said, but I could only hear it faintly as it was if she was also disappearing.
“Dad! Mom! Somebody!” I screeched, in complete distress.
People near the stands were being swallowed by the fog, and I started running, crying for help as the thick white monster continued to chase me.
I was shouting, yelling only two words during my sprint.
“Help!” and “Run!”
All the energy I could muster I used, as the fog continued its destructive path, consuming anything in its way, even the town hall. People were disappearing one by one and in such a swift manner. My cold breath continued to huff and puff as I tried to find someone or something that could help me.
Tired and out of breath, my feet were still moving until I stopped suddenly. My town was being digested by a monster, as if it were some trivial main course. Now the fog was in front of me, and close to finishing me off like a small bread crumb on its plate. Charging towards me, it was coming like a bull as I looked away and tried to shield myself from the inevitable.
As I looked up slowly, I saw that it stopped a foot in front of my face, and a figure came out of the mysterious devourer. It was the drummer.
“Greetings, Miles Cooper, pleasure to meet you,” he said in an odd, cordial type of way.
“You’re the drummer. You controlled the fog machine and made everyone disappear. Bring them back, now!” I demanded.
“Are you sure they disappeared?” he asked. I was so lost as my crossed emotions transformed into utter perplexity.
I was shaking my head in befuddlement, only to form a reasonable analysis concluding that, “I am dreaming right now,” followed by my exclaiming, “Hey, brain, can you dream up a waterfall so I can wake up!”
The figure replied, “I assure you, Mr. Cooper, this is no dream. Come look into the fog.”
I approached cautiously, still suspicious of the unknown figure, as I saw an image of people at Fog Fest. Everything looked normal. What stood out was the image of my family and they were worried.
“Is that the town? Why doesn’t it look entrenched in fog?” (Beyond the normal of course).
My voice slowly uttered in a moment of realization, “I’m the one in the fog, aren’t I?”
He nodded.
“See, Mr. Cooper,” he said, “You have been complaining about a lot of things lately, including the Fog Fest. As your father said, you should be embracing this time in your life joyfully and with a deeper appreciation,” he pronounced.
“What?” I said, now with a headache.
“Think about it deeply, beyond Fog Fest,” he advised, clearly trying to lead me to something.
I started to think. My first thoughts were that I'm either dreaming, being abducted by aliens, or have officially flipped my lid. Then, as I started to ponder more, it hit me.
My words gradually mouthed, “What my dad was saying is that I should be enjoying this time in my life, before I take the SAT, before I graduate, before I leave for college, before I leave my friends and family and I’m on my own, and before I’m at an age where I’ll be living with regrets. Regrets that I didn’t truly enjoy the seemingly small things in my life, like Fog Fest or, more importantly, spending time with those I love, because it won’t last forever. Even the banter with my cousins.”
The drummer smiled. “Nicely done,” he responded.
“I’m still not big on the Halloween thing,” I quickly noted, “but that’s just who I am.”
He laughed and answered, “Well that’s fine, Miles.”
As he led me into the fog, it swallowed me, and just like that I was back at Fog Fest and back home.
I saw my dad, mom, and uncle come over to me, and I felt relieved as I hugged them in our moment of reunion.
“Where were you?” they all asked simultaneously.
“Uhh… I guess I wandered off so far that I didn’t even notice. Head in the clouds you know. Anyway, I was just doing some reflection. Reminiscing and appreciating the good memories that we all have here,” I said.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see my dad smile a bit.
My voice, now less sporadic, uttered epiphanically, “What I’m trying to say is, I’m glad that you weren’t eaten by the fog, and I’m glad to be here with the people I care about most.” (That didn’t come out right, but you know what I meant.)
My family was bewildered. Mom even asked, “Are you alright, Miles?” as she felt my forehead.
“Better than ever. I actually feel like going to the concert and showing off my dance moves,” I replied.
“What moves?” Sophia quipped. “No offense, Miles, but when you dance you make chicken look like a professional.”
I replied, “Ah, I missed hearing that. Thanks, Soph.”
They were still scratching their heads as we all headed to the music and joined the dancing crowd. I may have looked like a contorted chicken while dancing, but who cares. It was fun and memorable, except for the part where I screamed when the fog machines came on. This time nothing weird happened. While I was semi-dancing I looked onto the stage and saw that the drummer was gone.
I ‘m still not too sure what took place, what I saw, or if it even happened. I do know one thing, though, I do not want life to pass me by with regrets and a million “what-ifs.”
Now that would be scary.
The Dance
I walked up to the Rec Room at 5
Second thoughts, they did override
My mom told me the fee
For my ticket, reluctantly
By the way, name’s Will, Will McBride.
As we walked to the door to pay
I begged,“Mom, keep me home today”
She looked me in the eye
With her motherly voice (Oh Why?!)
“Bear, I love you, you’ll enjoy” to my dismay
We walked up to the counter and paid
For the ticket as the music played
As I walked through the door
I thought, “To the dance floor!”
“But first I’ll have some lemonade."
As I stood with my cup in my hand
A girl walked in, Diana Surtan
Well dressed, oval eyes,
Wearing makeup with her disguise
She walked in laughing with her band
The “popular kids” as they are known
With their outfits making us feel outshone
Passed me by to the floor
But I noticed a look of bore-
Dom from Diana as inside she was alone
Anyway, I slowly walked to that room
With its woofer and thundering boom
Dancing all over the place
The DJ set the pace
“I still feel awkward,” as anxiety resumed.
I’d ne’er before been to a dance, you see
(And I struggle much socially)
I just stood and watched
The old style clock
Thinking, “May those arms spin quickly”
T’was more boring than watching a giraffe
I’d rather be home solving graphs
I looked up again
Not even close to ten
That clock now watched me; I felt it laugh
While I glared at the snickering clock
My shoulder was tapped, I was shocked
It was Diana wouldn’t you know
Her face with a natural glow
I was nervous and my whole body locked
She asked,“You’re Phil, right? Phil McHyde?”
Responding “Actually Will, Will McBride”
Said I with shaking teeth
(I couldn’t feel my numb feet)
And a dopey smile three meters wide.
“Oh yeah, sorry,” she said holding her gown
She was bored too, with her half- frown.
I looked down at my pants
She asked, “You wanna dance?”
My legs felt like jelly about to fall down
I couldn’t believe she asked me here and now
I mean, I know it's a dance, but me? Wow!
My temperature rose
As my body just froze
My mouth blurted, “I wish I knew how”
The second those words left my lips
I thought, “This night’s an apocalypse”
We both looked away
Feeling more awkward than all day
Her response, “Well I guess I’ll see you” waving her fingertips
We said goodbye and then walked away
I found Mom’s car with nothing to say
“Did you have a good time?”
I nodded convincingly, like a mime
And I still have regrets to this day.
Writing(From A Different Perspective)
Every day, I see this kid continue to pace back and forth constantly, thirsting for the ideas of something important. I have sympathy for him since I have known this kid for a while. As he goes through his daily stressful habits I also see and feel the toll this takes on him. Man! His teeth are sharp. The deadline for his draft is coming up and he doesn’t have any ideas yet. I wish I could just talk to him and try to help his predicament. Alas, he is so focused on his work it is as if I am almost inanimate to him. As always I walked with him into multiple rooms with large figures that gave him instructions as they handed him multiple papers. My feet always hurt right after 3:00 once he finishes all his work, but thankfully this kid is nice enough to put them through this massage machine which helps them heal. The brief dizziness from the machine making me spin is nothing to the sense of relief I have in my brand new feeling feet. Anyway, the next day we walked into this quiet large museum-like room. This room was filled with thousands of books and literature. The kid started to flip through the pages of every book he collected off the shelves, just to let his creative juices flow. He was hoping for some idea, any idea to help him think of what to write.
You could hear him speaking out loud saying, “Come on brain, think!”
I mean you could see his eyes, so red from the lack of sleep he was getting from thinking about this. A large figure who always organizes the books checks in on him from time to time and asks him if he is okay.
He always responds with a very unenergetic, “Yeah, Uh-Huh. I’m fine, thanks for asking Mr. Lyles.”
He doesn’t make that statement any more believable as he continues to open and close his eyes, while this liquid out of his mouth splatters like a string over the book he is reading. At 3:00 we leave the large rooms in the even larger building. I know because there is always this guy with a three across his face when all the other figures leave and I try to say hi to him when I can. The kid and I have different ways of getting home. He enters this large yellow rectangle with circles on the bottom, while I travel in this clear rectangle stuffed in a large dark thing filled with my cousins that takes us to his home. I mean this is as cramped as a square being forced into a circle hole. At least my cousins are very colorful people. Anyway, we got to the kid’s house and watched the sun set down and then a couple hours later something unexpected and predictable happened. He woke up with this face of sudden realization and joy in the middle of the night. I mean he could not give this thing up. I was so tired but he woke me up and brought me to his table. He took out a piece of paper, picked me up, and started to write. I was looking down and I saw them. As he put my feet on the paper and started to swerve his hands in all sorts of directions, it felt as if I was an elegant swan ice skating with graphite residue coming out of my feet. Oh the words, those beautiful words! He was writing like some established author, and even though every time he erased some words it hurt my head, I didn’t mind at all, especially once he finished his masterpiece. I was so happy for the kid as I watched him turn in his paper.
The Sophomore and Halloween
(Why did I come here?!)
On a nice, quiet Sunday evening when I thought I was just going to be able to watch some of my favorite movies, I was wrong.
Remember me? I’m Miles Cooper. The freshman, now a sophomore, who can’t stand Halloween, and that is exactly what today was. I could see my friend, Andrew, coming to my door dressed in his costume. I opened the door, dressed in my casual Nike t-shirt and jeans, and asked, “Hey Andrew, how’s it going?”
“Not bad,” said Andrew, “What do you think of my costume?”
All of a sudden a pitchfork was thrown at my feet only 3 inches away, and I regrettably screamed. Owen came out of nowhere as he and Andrew were hysterically laughing their pants off at me. I touched the pitchfork and found out it was plastic. I was upset as I declared angrily, “This is why I despise Halloween, and you guys know that,” as I threw their pitchfork in my garbage can outside.
“Oh come on, Miles, lighten up,” said Owen with a chuckling voice.
Andrew followed, also laughing, “Yeah, you’re too serious about this Halloween thing. Anyway, we wanted to see if you heard about the party across the street in that ‘haunted house’ and if you were coming.”
“You can’t be serious. Owen,” I replied. “You remember what happened the last time we went to a Halloween party, plus that house creeps me out.”
“I remember that we had a great time,” he said jokingly, “but don’t worry there’s only sophomores, and that house isn’t even haunted.”
I replied, “Again, I decline.”
They both shrugged, and Andrew said, “Suit yourself. We’ll catch you later.”
I closed my door and started to watch my movies. Three hours later, I was still on my couch while my parents were out running errands when I heard screams that came from outside. Sydney, a girl from my school, was running and screaming. I ran out, caught up to her, and asked her what was wrong. She told me that there was this weird, loud noise ringing throughout the haunted house, and there was something that people couldn’t see but feel around their legs. Almost everyone had run out of the house, but I didn’t see Andrew or Owen, so I ran to the house and nervously entered through the front door to try to find my friends.
It was just like the movies--cold, dark, and, for some reason, incredibly moist. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight mode to see better. I called out the names of my friends and quickly said, “This better not be one of your guys’ pranks!”
I looked around and pointed my flashlight at the party’s setup. There were some chips,drinks, costumes, and some dripping water from the ceiling. I started to walk upstairs and heard the sink still running in the bathroom, when suddenly something jumped at me, and I ducked as it fell in the tub. I got on my feet and ran like I was in the Olympics. It was so dark, but I had to run blindly. I could hear it breathing as it was chasing me. Unexpectedly, something pulled me into the door leading into the basement, and I fell on the ground in confusion and fear. I grabbed the nearest object as protection and shined my light. It was Owen and Andrew who looked more scared than I was. I asked them what was upstairs, but they didn’t know either. All they remembered was some loud noise with a lot of people screaming and running away. I, in my running frenzy, had not had the time to shine a light on what was chasing me. We were looking for exits, but the only other one was the backdoor upstairs, and the sound of something running, snarling, and breathing hard could still be heard there.
“Wait, why don’t we just call the cops,” said Andrew in a moment of realization and relief. We all pulled out our phones, but the lack of reception brought fear back to our faces. We were stuck and in deep trouble.
I tried to think of a plan as I was hyperventilating, saying nervously, “Why don’t we try to trap this thing?”
Owen responded, “What are we in, Miles, the movies? That thing probably won’t stop running until it either eats us or shreds us apart.”
I was desperately trying to come up with an idea when suddenly the thing broke through the locked door. We ran upstairs, screaming in the dark, as the thing with all of its momentum barreled down the steps past us. Andrew was in front, and he reached the top of the stairs and pushed open the back door so we could get out.
“Let’s head to my house,” I yelled, as we were running across the street away from this beast (or whatever it was.) We jumped over my neighbor’s fence, but this monster just ran right through it, and it started to chase only me (of course!).
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said breathing heavily, “Andrew, Owen, help me!”
They told me they would go get help really quick as I continued to run like Max “the Motor” on our track and field team at school. For one moment, I looked back and it cost me as I crashed into my garbage can and fell down. Its contents surrounded me. My house’s motion sensor lights came on and the beast jumped at me while I was still on the ground. I grabbed the fake pitchfork that had tumbled out of the garbage can and jammed it across its mouth to prevent it from biting me. With the lights on, I could clearly see that it was a dog, and the scary thing was that it had white foam all over its mouth, which meant rabies. I tried to hold it back with the pitchfork as it continued to try to bite me until I finally pushed back and got some separation. I ran--again--and then I saw Owen and Andrew who, thankfully, had somehow found my parents as they tried to help me.
Owen yelled, “Miles, try to trap it!”
I frustratingly responded with, “That’s what I already said before, Owen!”
I looked at my surroundings trying to figure out how to do that when I came up with a risky idea. I stopped and faced the dog with the plastic pitchfork in my hand, baiting it to jump at me. But when it leapt, I scrambled to the side and it jumped into my garbage bin, which I quickly closed and had everyone hold it steady so it wouldn’t get out.
Dad called animal control, and they took the dog to the shelter. (I heard that it is okay now, thankfully, and that they treated its condition.) As they were driving it away I looked at Andrew and Owen, and before I said a word they both said almost simultaneously, “We know! You can’t stand Halloween!”
Summer: Post Pandemic
A time long waited to be seen
was the summer after Covid-19.
So many things we’ve all waited to do
can happen, it’s true.
The sight of the clouds while flying in the air
And the little kids who kick the chair.
Taking an Uber ride with friends.
Hugging grandparents, aunts, and kin.
Oh what were the lessons learned?
We were so busy rushing ‘round,
But the pandemic forced us to slow down
To never take for granted the things that seem small
Our family, health, shelter and many things in all.
What emotion do we have now?
Our happiness, like the faces of a smiling pair
On their first date at a carnival or fair.
We can finally go back to public spaces
And when it’s safe we can see the smiles on all of our faces.
The At-Bat
“Ball four!” yelled the umpire. My teammate, Mason Tellers, walked to first base and received a fistbump from our first base coach for his at bat. That disciplined at bat, while advancing the runners to 2nd and 3rd, made my at bat all the more pressured.
My name is Jackson Miller, by the way, and I play for the Panthers, which is a little league team. We were playing the Armadillos in the final game of the regular season in the local park. I walked up to the plate with the bases loaded with two outs in the ninth down by a run. This was probably the most intense day because of the playoff race. If we win, we’re in, and if we lose, ... well, you get the idea. While taking my final practice swings, the catcher crouched in his position and the umpire spit on the dirt behind him. I stepped into the batter’s box, with sweat on my head and I saw the first pitch come out of the pitcher’s hand and I took it. “Strike one!” yelled the umpire. I tried to wipe off the sweat but the perspiration kept coming like raindrops falling down a window. I set my stance, first seeing the windup again and then the pitch coming at me. I swung and missed for strike two.
I took a timeout and quickly looked down at my third base coach, who gave me the sign to choke up on the bat. I brought my clutching knuckles up three inches from the near nob to the middle of the grip. The next pitch came at me and my bat started to come off my shoulders, but I saw the pitch start to slide away from me and I quickly stopped my motion holding the bat over the plate. The umpire asked the first base coach if I went around and I looked at him nervously, waiting for the possible call that could end our season. I looked and I saw him give the safe signal which meant that I was still alive. I took a quick sigh of relief realizing that I was still in trouble down in the count 1-2. I set my stance again and looked into the ball held by the pitcher. The next pitch came but it was in the dirt, blocked by the catcher, so I didn’t even think of swinging. “Ball two,” yelled the umpire as I took a timeout to readjust my batting gloves. Once I got back in the box the pitcher waited for his sign, nodded, then dealt it to me. I swung and fouled it to the backstop as the umpire quickly moved to get out of the way.
My teammates, as always, continued to give me encouragement after every pitch. I could feel the intensity rising like the current temperature, while also seeing my head coach pace back and forth in the dugout. I held up my bat again and got into my stance. I concentrated on the ball and saw it come to me but started to rise away so I took it for a ball that was high and away. “Ball three,” yelled the umpire, while holding up his fingers and saying the classic words “3-2.” This was it, it was just like in the movies----or something like that--,especially with the crowd’s loud cheering. A 3-2 pitch with the bases loaded, two outs, down a run, game on the line, and the season on the line.
I stepped out one final time to clear my head and then I stepped back into that box. At this point, this motion became as natural as if I were just talking. While Mason and the other runners were taking their leads, I set my stance. I was looking right at the ball, with sweat dripping down my head, and the sweating pitcher looking straight at me . I saw the pitch come right over the plate so I swung and hit it hard right over the pitcher’s head as he ducked. I did it! I hit a game winning two run hit to get us to the playoffs! I’m the hero of my team!
Alas, this wasn’t one of those stories. The second baseman left his feet and dived up the middle for the ball before it touched the grass. He caught it mid air and the umpire confirmed it as he raised his fist up in the air, signaling the final out. It was so abrupt and so crushing. The crowd went silent, some with a look of shock. As I ran up the first base line I stopped, took off my helmet and crouched to the ground alone. Having the look of utter defeat and sadness did not get any better when I saw the other team congratulate the second baseman and celebrate his game saving play. I bit my lip while watching them to try to hold back the tears, as only one fell on the dry dirt. My entire team looked absolutely dejected in the dugout. I stood around and saw everyone pack up and go home. The game was over, the season was over and we didn’t qualify for the playoffs. In that moment, where my one tear was, I wrote with my finger the classic old line in the dirt, “Next Year.”
A Covid(19) Christmas
I could imagine it right now--my entire family coming together eating turkey and chicken on Christmas day and me sitting next to my cousins. The joy I normally have being next to my family and playing video games with my cousins. Unfortunately, we are in the year 2020, and this has been an unforgettable year with the Covid-19 pandemic. I sometimes feel a little bit of sadness and disappointment because we can’t go to their houses, but I understand why we can’t. I’m currently in the 9th grade, and the older I get, the more I want to spend time with my family. Though I understand that keeping myself and others safe is a priority.
I’m excited for Christmas Eve in two days because it is still one of my favorite days, and I know that sounds crazy, but just to have the suspense of waiting for what’s going to happen during Christmas day is a very exciting feeling. My mom and I are in the car driving to the store wearing our masks to get all the necessary items for Christmas dinner. Wearing a mask is one of the best forms of protection from Covid, by the way.
Once we went into the store we quickly picked up all the items on our list like turkey, salad, mashed potatoes etc. I saw my neighbor, Jack Perry, who was around my age. He is pretty mean to his other classmates, whether it was in the classroom or on Zoom. I’m, unfortunately, in his biology class. We looked at each other, and I waved to him, but he didn’t wave back. I always wondered why he was so mean, and it stuck in my head even after we bought the groceries and were driving in the car. I texted some of my other friends and asked them about it. They couldn’t answer until my one friend, Miles, said that he never saw Jack eat with people at lunch or go spend some time with friends before the pandemic. I came to the conclusion that maybe he was just lonely and took it out on everybody. I wanted to find some way to contact him, but nobody had his number, so I decided to go old school and write him a letter and leave it on his porch. I wrote my phone number on the letter and told him that if you need a friend just to call.
I waited on Tuesday and looked at my phone, but not a single new text message. I got a text message the next day, though, and it was a new number. I read it excitedly ... until I read it fully--it was just somebody trying to solicit something. I immediately blocked them. I woke up on Christmas Eve morning at 8 am, ate breakfast, and then helped my mom with Christmas dinner for the next day. Later in the day--about 5 hours later--I was watching tv when I got a buzz on the phone. It was a new text message. It said, “Hey, you moron, this is Jack.” At that moment I’m thinking to myself, Why did I even try?, but 5 seconds later he asked what my name was. I texted back and said, “My name is Isaiah.” He told me to look out the window. I saw him outside on the sidewalk.
“Thanks, Isaiah,” he texted, and he waved. I laughed a little bit to myself and then waved back.
The Freshman and Halloween
I’d normally be at home either working on homework or watching TV, but my friends said that this Halloween party wasn’t going to be crazy or anything we could get in trouble for. Halloween’s got to be one of the worst holidays ever invented. Why do you have some random strangers coming up to your door asking for candy? I also never understood dressing up as a kid. I mean, come on, would you really want to wear a donkey suit at 5 years old? Even though my friends and other high school students always go to these Halloween parties, at 15 years old I try not to. You know that when people start to form a conga line in somebody’s house that the party will get crazy. At least that's what I’ve heard.
My name is Miles Cooper, by the way. Sorry, but this stupid party and its conga line made me forget to introduce myself.
“Hey guys, watch this!” said one of the students about to skateboard on the staircase railing. While skateboarding he fell off the rail and broke the bookshelf. He just walked away slapping hands and laughing with his friends. I couldn’t believe that he didn’t even show any concern for breaking it, and I think this is his house! The one friend I knew at this party came over to me and said, “Hey Miles.”
I responded by saying, “Hey Owen, how’s it going?”
Owen was about to respond, but all of a sudden a bunch of seniors crashed into the party. I started looking up, and they all were about 6’9, 6’10. I mean they were tall. They showed up empty handed with no costumes and were just plain loud. I mean one of the guys just jumped on the couch with a bag of chips and started spilling them all over it. I guess manners aren’t really taught as much anymore. All of a sudden one of the seniors bumped into me and yelled to everybody, “Hey! Who invited these nobodies?”
I responded, "We aren't nobodies. We are actually freshmen who attend school with you at Kapler High.”
The guy eating chips on the couch said, "Hey Dan, I've never seen these guys in our school before."
I took out my school ID and held it up for five seconds. "See," I said to them, "We do go to school with you."
He was drinking his Coke and thinking hard, which was surprising since they didn't think through the fact that this is someone else's house and they were messing it up. He dropped his empty can on the floor and yelled loudly, obviously trying to impress the party people, "Anyway we don't let most freshman to these parties, unless they're the cool ones we know! Now both of you guys need to get out!"
Owen responded, "Come on, man. We are cool. Let us stay."
I quickly turned around and said, "Owen, are you kidding me? I never wanted to come to this party. This is even worse than I thought. Not only is it Halloween and late at night, but these seniors and party people have no manners whatsoever!"
The senior Dan who I was talking too grabbed me by my shoulder, turned me around and said, "What did you just say about this party and us, kid?" His three other friends started coming towards me and Owen.
I was so upset that I didn't think when I replied, "I said that you have no manners whatsoever and your party is awful . And don't call me 'kid'. The age difference between you and me is, like, 3 years."
Once I realized what I had said, I saw Dan grinding his teeth and breathing so hard like a bull. "That's it. I have had it with these two. Get them!" said Dan.
I started to run with Owen, and we tried to find a back door to escape, but as we got outside Dan and his friends were right on our tails. While we were running Owen said, "Did you have to insult them?"
"I accidentally let it slip, sorry!" I said. I yelled back at the guys chasing us while running, "Sorry, I take it back!"
"It's too late for that," said one of the other seniors.
We ran even harder, and I saw Owen go in another direction. I kept running until I was trapped in an alley, and then they found me. I was surrounded. I thought they were gonna throw me into the alley trash bin.
"Trick or Treat," someone said, but I didn't know who it was.
"What was that?" Dan said with a little fear in his voice. A loud siren then came after it. After all the confusion a cloaked figure appeared with a bag and a baseball bat. We all ran, and he was chasing us. I did so much running that night I felt like I was in P.E. or something.
While the guys were running away I fell, and the figure came closer to me and said, "Happy Halloween, Miles!"
"Owen!" I said confused and upset. "I can't believe that you did that and left me behind."
"It worked, didn't it?" he responded.
"Yeah, thanks," I said, "One last thing. Never invite me to anything involving Halloween."
Owen laughed a little, saying, "You got it."