2016-2017 Write Eye flip book

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Megan Kirk sketch

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Table of Contents Front Cover Jackie Kozell digital drawing

Queenly Xie The Hidden Fragrance poem

Isabella Kruger mixed media

Smridhi Mahajan The Great Escape short story

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Sriya Guduru photograph

David Piwowarski Snowflake poem

Anjali Patel sketch

Elise Ao You’re Safe short story

Julia Kelly Tom’s Letter poem

Brandon Grimbilas painting

Ishwar Kumbam photograph

Sophie Edelman painting

Queenly Xie Outside poem

Ishwar Kumbam photograph

Anamaria Popovska Dear Mommy poem

Smridhi Mahajan The Devastating Dragon poem

Megan Kirk sketch

Jackie Kozell digital drawing

Katherine Lebedev The Venus Fly Trap poem

Kirara Fried My Friend poem

Sriya Guduru photograph

Mrudul Nagapurkar photograph

Mrudul Nagapurkar photograph

Queenly Xie sketch

Staff Page

Mrudul Nagapurkar photograph

Back Cover

Ethan Garcia drawing

Caroline Daly Gila River Resentment short story

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place was a grassy green field, filled with dainty, colorful flowers and trees all around. You could see bees buzzing around you, and butterflies hovering over flowers. It was very pretty. After parking their black Volkswagen, Aaron and Alexia skipped cheerily over to an empty wooden bench and beckoned their parents to set up the snacks on the table. Mrs. Foster started to set up cups and plates onto the surface. “Oh no!¨ blurted out Mr. Foster. ¨We forgot the ham and cheese sandwiches in the car!¨ ¨Never mind,¨ said Mrs. Foster, her voice so soothing that it could calm down an angry lion. “How about your dad and I walk up to the car to get it? You kids wait here, we’ll be back in a blink of an eye.” Smiling, Mr. and Mrs. Foster trotted down the lush green grass and up to the car to get the sandwiches. “While we wait,” began Alexia, “Let’s play tag. You’re it!” And that was the first mistake of the Fosters. How could someone just leave a couple of children in an unknown area? You never know who-or-what awaits. Aaron chased after Alexia as fast as his legs could take him. His younger sister darted into the nearby woods while her older brother was still behind her, warning her not to go too far. It wasn’t long before the two of them were deep into the woods, surrounded by tall and dense trees, which blocked almost all sunlight. It was a rather terrifying place for a couple of children alone. Alexia was exhausted from sprinting, so she sat down at the foot of a dry, colossal tree. “What are you doing, Alexia?” said Aaron. He went from playful to responsible in a matter of seconds. “I told you to stop, and now we’re deep into this forest! I don’t even know the way back!” Hearing these words, Alexia burst into tears. “I want my mommy!” she yelled.

The Great Escape

Smridhi Mahajan

It was a warm and sunny day in April in Asheville, North Carolina. The birds chirped merrily, and the breeze blew ever so slightly. The day was almost perfect. Too perfect. “I’m so excited for our picnic!” exclaimed Aaron as he stepped out of the car. “Me too!” shouted Alexia, as enthusiastic as ever. Aaron Foster was a eleven-year-old boy, with glass green eyes and a somewhat tan complexion with freckles all over his cheeks. This boy also had just the right height for his age. On the other hand, nine- year-old Alexia was very different as compared her older brother; she had brown eyes, a fair complexion, and when she smiled, you could see her deep, yet cute dimples. The only identical feature that the siblings shared were their straight, chocolate brown hair. Even though they both disagreed with each other and had innumerable arguments, they still cared for one another. Their family was going for a picnic in ‘Leisure Meadows’ for the first time. The

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Anjali Patel Sketch

voice. It came from outside the sack and sounded very familiar. “Just be quiet and stop fidgeting! The only way you are getting out is if your parents pay a ransom—one million dollars to be exact.” The kids were bewildered and didn’t know what to do. What was going to happen next? There was a loud thud as Aaron and Alexia fell onto the floor. They heard a door close behind them. They cautiously crawled out of the sack to find themselves in a wooden shack with boarded up windows and a chipped floor. It smelled musty and old, and seemed as if it were built a hundred years ago. Alexia whispered into her brother’s ear, “Aaron! What are we going to do? Where are we? What’s happening?” There were just so many questions he wished he had the answer to, but he ***

Her facial expressions clearly showed that she was panic-stricken and woebegone. A shiver ran down Aaron’s spine as fear engulfed his mind. He was convinced that everything that had happened so far was his fault. He started breathing uncontrollably fast. “Don’t worry,” he reassured, attempting to calm her down. He knew he didn’t sound as comforting as his mother would’ve, but he still tried. “I’m sure that we’ll find a way out of this. Just let me-” And then he was cut off. The next thing he knew, he and Alexia were inside a dusty brown sack, and they were being carried away somewhere by someone. The siblings struggled to escape. They punched and kicked, trying everything they could do to get out of this horrible mess. “Stop it,” ordered a hoarse and deep voice. Aaron was pretty sure it was a man’s

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didn’t. “It’s okay,” he assured, “I promise I’ll get us out of here. We just have to work together.” Hours passed and nothing happened. It was starting to get as hot as a furnace inside the enclosed space. Aaron guessed that the sun had set, since the chirping of the crickets could be heard along with the hooting of owls. The two of them just sat on the grimy floor, trying to figure a way out of the tiny room. Suddenly, Alexia shrieked, “LOOK! THERE’S A HOLE ON THE SIDE OF THE WALL OVER THERE!” “Quiet down!” commanded Aaron. But she was right. There was a part of the wall where the wood was slightly chipped off. This jaw-dropping and spectacular find was the most helpful clue yet. Aaron quickly scurried over to the corner and stuck his hand out of the hole. The wind blew between his fingers, cooling off his sweat. It felt good. His hand reached over to the grass onto the ground, and just then, his fingers came across a sturdy twig. He pulled it inside and examined it closely and carefully. Maybe this could be our way out , he thought. He instantly snapped off a piece and all he was left with was a sharp, yet solid, piece of thin wood. Adrenalized and apprehensive, he briskly walked up to the door of the shack and stuck the twig into the keyhole of the lock on the door. All it took was one twist—click! The door swung open, and a rush of cool night air blew onto their faces. “Now’s our chance,” said Aaron. He grabbed Alexia’s hand and pulled her towards himself. Both kids hurtled through the trees as the leaves crunched under their sneakers. Escape was all that mattered at this point. Out of the blue, the Foster siblings bumped into two men with flashlights. They wore

blue uniforms with badges that said ‘Police of N.C.’. “Are you children Aaron and Alexia Foster?” interrogated one of the two. He was short and had a shrill yet confident voice. The siblings glaced at each other and nodded. “Then you’re comin’ with us,” demanded the other man who was also short, but had a loud and bold voice. He gestured them to come forward by curling up his index finger repeatedly while pointing at them. “Your parents have been lookin’ all over for ya guys. Where were ya?” Aaron told them the whole story, from the time they stepped out of the car to the events that had just transpired. He also told them all about the ransom and how they escaped, every single detail. In less than a millisecond, the officer with the shrill voice signaled the other to look for the person who had kidnapped the children while he took them to their parents.

It wasn’t sunny and pleasant like it was earlier. The sky had grown dark, and there was a chill in the air.

On the way out of the forest, the officer said, “What you children did, was foolish and immature, but brave and impressive. Who knows what would’ve happened to you kids if you hadn’t escaped! Thank goodness we ran into you. Never, ever, do that again.” The three of them stumbled out of the forest wearily, back to ‘Leisure Meadows’. It wasn’t sunny and pleasant like it was earlier. The sky had grown dark, and there was a chill in the air. Two police cars stood in the middle of the parking lot and next to it stood another police officer and Mr. and Mrs. Foster.

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“Mom! Dad!” shouted the kids together. They jogged up to their parents, ecstatically and were greeted by warm and soothing hugs. Mrs. Foster cried tears of joy as she kissed Aaron and Alexia all over their faces. She was distinctly relieved to see her children. “I found him in the middle of the woods. Nasty ol’ man was hidin’ in that shack of his,” said a loud and bold voice. Aaron recognized it immediately. He swiveled around to see the short officer holding the arms of an elderly man in silver handcuffs. The old man tried to avoid eye contact with Mr. Foster. “Mr. Bonklobs?” yelped Mr. Foster. “I just can’t believe that my best colleague would kidnap my children just for a million dollars! You know you could have just asked me for money if you needed help! I just can’t believe it! You-” “Now, now,” said the officer, “we’ve got him all tied up, don’t you worry at all. He’ll be goin’ nowhere.” Mr. Foster kept giving Mr. Bonklobs frightening looks from time to time. He clearly didn’t like him being there. The officers pushed Mr. Bonklobs into one of the police cars and drove away. The Fosters got into the other car as the head officer drove them back to their cozy little house—123

Chestnut Drive. When they arrived, they thanked the officer for finding their children. Everyone was happy once again. “Aaron and Alexia,” began Mrs. Foster, her eyes swimming with tears, “I am so, so sorry for leaving both of you in a place we had never been before. Today was a huge mistake, and I promise not to repeat it again. You kids were so brave. I just want to say—” And then she couldn’t help whole ocean of tears came rushing down her cheeks as she sobbed uncontrollably. “Please-please forgive me.” Aaron put his hand on his mother’s back. He hugged her and said, “We forgive you. Right, Alexia?” “Yes,” she responded. “We do. Just forget everything that happened today. What matters right now is that we are together, safe, and sound.” The only problem was that Aaron and Alexia couldn’t forget what had happened. This part of their lives was an amazing adventure and a petrifying experience from which they had learnt a lot.

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Tom’s Letter

The sun at first was welcoming With its golden invitation. Our steps kept pace quite merrily Without much trepidation. As the morning stretched into the noon, The warmth weighed down the load. And soon our blankets and our coats were left beside the road. That April day just laughed at us, Suddenly, the springtime air, Transformed into a mighty beast, A frightening nightmare. Windy daggers sliced at us, A bitterness we hold. We clutched to thoughts of shelter As the nights became more cold. The plague of ice spread quickly, sinking deep fangs into bones. We longed for long-gone blankets And the happiness of home. But joyful thoughts were poisoned By the unrelenting frost,

I write to you with lucky life While many have been lost.

Julia Kelly

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Ishwar Kumbam photograph

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Outside

Outside, that is where I want to be; Leaves churn as wind bellows past, bringing memories forth; I let it brush under my skin mournfully; Head enlightened, I clamber up a tree with my favorite book in hand; Off in the distance views, I smile faintly; The times where I could smile truthfully; The times where I wasn’t stressed out; Thoughts appear after, and I wonder about life; What is my purpose? What am I going to do in the future? What should I do next? I let my hair drape over the branch, unconscious of the coming ants; I focus on my breathing and the cool wind; The new buds of leaves appear and I wonder at the new lives; Feelings overcome and I stop thinking about the negative; My eyelids open and reality is back; While I clamber down the tree, I excite with newfound eagerness to accomplish. Nostalgia fills my head as I let my mind loose; The times where I didn’t have something due;

Queenly Xie

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Dear Mommy

Don’t think I’m the one who ate the yummy sweets It was the yucky monster that wanders the street

I saw him with my eyes, my own two eyes He sits by the jar and waits for the supply

His eyes turn red when the jar opens He’s always ready to eat Once before soccer I even saw him eating my cleats

Don’t blame me for something I didn’t do I only took one ok maybe two

Oh, wait why’d I say that And right in front of you

Don’t give me that look I love yummy sweets They were sitting right there waiting for me to eat Now that you know the monster has to pack up and leave …Sorry

Anamaria Popovska

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Megan Kirk sketch

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The Venus Fly Trap

This thing is an alluring monster. It has gigantic metallic lines, a black neck, and a spiraling face. It looks petrifying, With its wooden peculiarity and small size with endless twists and turns, But it is just a violin, A harmless body. It has a white, sticky dust around the mouth which makes it look like a rabid thing. It laughs with great perfection and rhythm that bears the ability to calm any mind. I become the fly that cannot resist the temptation of the sweet nectar this venus fly trap produces. It sings a perfect world where the sky is forever blue and my heart is beating with love. I fly into this world, The dust doesn’t let you go, It only draws you in further.

Free of hate, Free of war, Free of fear, And I thank this sweet creature for its gift of tranquility.

Katherine Lebedev

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Sriya Guduru photograph

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Mrudul Nagapurkar photograph

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and a half, as we have slowly begun to accept our grief. But here I am, putting one foot in front of the other, on this Thursday morning, February 19, 1942. “Jay-mes! Lean-duh! Come down for breakfast!” I hear Sachi yell, her heavy accent evident in almost every word she speaks. “I am almost ready!” Linda replies. “Jay-mes!” “I am coming!” he calls out, rushing down the stairs. I take a glance at the clock. The hands read 7:13. Ugh. I take my time while I finish brushing my teeth, knowing I am still very early for work, and I do not have to be at the hospital until 8:00. My nightmares woke me up early, which isn’t much different from most nights. I get dressed and make my way downstairs so I have time to see my children. Today I choose my usual white, short sleeved dress. When I get to the hospital, I wear a nurse apron, which is white and has a red cross in the front. I also wear a small, cream colored nurse cap. Sachi greets me with a “Good Morning Claire!” as I walk into the bright kitchen. To my right, James and Linda are sitting in front of their usual eggs and toast, courtesy of Sachi.

Gila River Resentment

Caroline Daly

If you had asked me a year ago if I was

happy, my answer would have been

certainly. It is so interesting that in such a short period of time, a whole life can be flipped upside down. I no longer wake up next to my husband, fully content with my life. Now, I wake up in a cold sweat every morning, clawing at the sheets in search of his body to comfort me. December 7th is a day I will never forget. It was the day my husband, Peter, was brutally murdered while serving in the American Navy. He was aboard the USS Arizona, one of the three ships completely demolished by the Japanese bombs. My two children, James, seventeen, and Linda, sixteen, were completely devastated. During the first week, they busied themselves with planning their father’s funeral instead of moping around in pain and misery, like I did. The first few days, I refused to leave my bed. I cried day and night until I became too exhausted and fell asleep. After the third week, I succumbed to my children’s requests to hire a housekeeper. With my busy schedule as a nurse and my bipolar moods, I knew there was no way any of the chores would get done. I hired a wonderful lady named Sachi. Although she is Japanese, my kids and I have come to love her over the past month

“It is alright. I will not be gone forever.”

She is busy cleaning up the countertops as I grab my breakfast from the stove. Wearing her usual apron and dress, her dark hair is tied back in an off-white bonnet. As she finishes with the counter, she places James and Linda’s lunches on top. “Goodbye mother, I will see you later!” James exclaims as he drops his plate

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into the sink and kisses me on the

cheek. He picks up his lunch and walks into the front hallway. Linda follows his path, her long, black skirt swaying as she moves around the kitchen and into the hall. “Have a good day! Make sure you wear your coats. It is snowing today!” I remind them. “We will, mother!” they shout in unison as the two walk out the front door. Content, I sit down with my plate of food and begin to eat. “So how have you been lately?” Sachi asks as she sits down in a chair across from me. One of the many things I love about her is that she is always genuine and really cares from the bottom of her heart.

Mrudul Nagapurkar photograph

glance at the clock up high above the doorway to the front hall: 7:37.

“Well, you know, nightmares all the

time, crying in my sleep, the usual,” I respond heavy-heartedly. “Claire, it is alright. All of this is normal, considering what you have been through. Soon, you will be able to sleep well. Your aching heart will begin to mend. I promise,” she consoles me. I give her a faint smile. “Thanks, Sachi. I had better get going.” I tell her as I

“Yes, you should be going. I will clean up your plate for you. Have a good day!” “Thanks, and you too.” Once I gather all my things together, I zip up my overcoat I ordered from the “Women’s Day” catalog and brace myself for the cold. It is a good thing that the

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hospital is not too far, only around 6 streets away from the house. Just today, the weather is unusually brutal, and I know it will take me more time to get there. As I walk past some streetlight poles and message boards, I notice a few new signs posted there. I try to catch a glimpse of what they say as I walk past, but my eyes start to tear up from the vicious wind, making the signs unreadable. I round the corner to the hospital. There it is: the Honor Health Scottsdale Medical Center, the place that has provided a job for me for almost fifteen years now. I look both ways before I cross the street, and I open the oversized double doors and walk in. My day is pretty average, sending patient after patient into an exam room, as well as implementing a few vaccines for things such as scarlet fever and tuberculosis. I pack up my purse, put on my coat, and walk through the double doors once again. As I make my way back home, I see the posters and decide to stop and read them. In bold, capital letters, the title of the letter reads, “Instructions to all persons of Japanese ancestry living in the following area:” followed by some street addresses. This area included my home. I furrowed my brow, worried if this concerned Sachi or not. I continued to read, “All Japanese persons, both alien and non-alien, will be evacuated from the above designated area by 12:00 o’clock noon, Tuesday, February 26, 1942.” My breath catches in my throat. Are they taking Sachi away from us? Just because of the war prejudice? I stomp my foot on the ground as hot tears burn in the back of my eyes. I run. I run away. I run away from this poster and everything it’s telling me. I run home to Sachi and my children to see if they had heard the news already.

I scramble for my keys in my purse as I make it to the front steps. As I turn the lock and push the door open, I frantically call Sachi’s name. “Sachi! Sachi! Where are you?” I call, my voice echoing around the house. I receive no reply, so I dash upstairs and into her room, calling her name all the while. When I enter her room, I come to a stop. There she is, kneeling by her bed with her face in a pillow, weeping. I immediately run to her side and wrap my arm around her. “Oh, Sachi, do not worry. They cannot take you away. I-” “Yes, they can, Claire. And that is exactly what they are going to do.” Sachi turns to me, tears smeared over her face. “But it is not fair, it…” “Claire. It is alright. I will not be gone forever,” she assures me. Standing up, we hug each other, and I do not want to let go. Six days later, it was time. Both James and Linda took off from school so they could be with Sachi as long as they could. The last few days have been a mix of crying, understanding, and hope. As we stand at the bus station, surrounded by dozens of other Japanese- Americans, I try to tell myself that this situation could be a lot worse. “I will miss you too, dear Linda,” Sachi consoles her, “but this will not be permanent. Do not worry about me.” Linda faintly smiles at her and steps away. James moves towards Sachi and embraces her. Sachi laughs, “Oh James! I will miss you and your messy room a lot!” He smiles and quickly wipes a tear away from his eye as Sachi pats him on the *** “Sachi! I am going to miss you so much!” Linda cries.

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back. Suddenly, we all turn towards a big blue school bus that pulls up into the parking lot. The horn honks once, and the families start lining up in front of it, single file. Sachi turns back towards us one last time. “Well, I guess this is goodbye,” she whispers solemnly. We all embrace in a group hug, shoulder-to-shoulder, not wanting to let go. We stay this way for a minute until we hear whistles being blown by the guards standing around the bus. “Do not worry about me,” Sachi says one final time. “I will be back.” And she grabs her case off the ground, slowly turns around and begins walking toward the bus. My arms stay wrapped around my children’s shoulders. We watch in silence as the woman we have come to cherish the past few months leaves us for a place where we know she won’t be treated fairly, knowing there's nothing we can do about it. It is a dreary April morning, fifty years after America and Britain declared war on Japan. I am busy in the kitchen preparing a Sunday night dinner for my family: my wonderful wife Karen and my two children, Claire and James Jr. “I will be right there!” I shout back at her, wondering what it could be. As I walk into the room, I immediately come to a standstill. Bold words flash across the TV screen: “Government mailed $20,000 as war reparations to living Japanese Internment Camp members.” “Sachi,” I whisper, still staring at the TV screen, remembering the last time I saw her. *** “James sweetie, look at the television!”

“Do you think you will receive money?” Karen asks me, snapping me out of my trance. “No, I was not in the camp, remember? Sachi was just our housekeeper.” I tell her. “You never know.” she shrugs. “Just check the mailbox to be sure.” “Alright, but nothing will be there,” I assure her as I walk out the front door. I walk down our paved driveway, shaking my head at Karen’s foolishness. I whip open the mailbox handle, and sure enough, sitting there is a 9x12 manila envelope addressed to Sachi. I gasp and furrow my brow as I immediately rip it open. I reach into the envelope and pull out an apology letter from President George Bush as well as a $20,000 check. “So this is all that Sachi’s life was worth.” I shake my head, disgusted. “Merely $20,000 for all the pain and anguish she experienced at the camp?” Upset, I walk back into my home and show Karen the check. She is very excited about the money yet upset and confused just as I am. Karen and I decide we will never cash the check.

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Megan Kirk sketch

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The Hidden Fragrance

Spring; Flowers, butterflies, and bees; Positive; first.

At least butterflies do no harm; at least to some people… Allergies, stinging, and mosquitos; Negative; second.

At least they tell the truth at least to some people... Spring; The seen positive, The unseen negative.

Queenly Xie

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Isabella Kruger mixed media

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Snowflake

They say that no snowflake is ever the same It floats through the air, dancing and prancing, with its small moment of fame. It drifts in the cold wind, bringing joy and happiness to all;

But, alas, it has to meet its end as it falls. As it stops drifting and comes to rest. It lands inside a snowflake nest.

It stops becoming unique, and is now just a mess after it’s descend. They always say no snowflake is the same, but what happens in the end?

David Piwowarski

Sriya Guduru photograph

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will kill him, me, and everyone who gossips or hears about it if I ever tell anyone. Yet everyday he yanks me by my hair and forces me to go to this sorry excuse for a school. He knows I won’t have the guts to tell anyone. And sadly, he’s right. I have never fought back in my life. I have never done anything that I was afraid to do, and I have never stood up to my dad. Why? , you might ask; it’s because I don’t know how, because I'm weak. “Hey, are you gonna stand there staring at those binders forever?” Jordan asks. “Sorry, I was thinking about stuff,” I say, shaking my head. “I know, you always make that face when you’re thinking,” Jordan says plainly. “Wow, I must look beautiful when I make that face,” I chuckle coldly. Jordan laughs nervously next to me. It’s a strange sound. The last time I heard a noise exactly like that was the day before yesterday, when my dad had one of his personal business meetings with people from his work. My dad is a decent businessman. You’d never realize that he abuses his 15-year-old daughter daily unless you’ve seen my scars and bruises embezzled on my body. He had his boss over at our house one day. My dad never tells me anything, so I didn’t know the man was over at the house. I came downstairs to ask if I could walk over to Jordan’s house to work on a school project when his boss caught sight of me. I had a big bruise above my eye, scratches across my arm, and nasty gashes all over my face. I was just going to ask until my eyes met his. In those eyes of his, I saw shock, curiosity, and worry. I just stood there with my mouth agape. I glanced at my dad, and what was left of my world and my hope, all crumpled down and was blown away by a wind. I had never seen him that livid before.

You’re Safe

Elise Ao

Part I

“If you fight back and get hit, it hurts a little while; if you don’t fight back it will hurt forever.” -Joel Siegel “Erren, you come in like this everyday. Why can’t you just tell me what happened?” “Jordan, you're lucky I even talk to you. I barely even glance at anyone, and here I am at my locker talking to you. Plus, I told you, it’s my dog. He just doesn’t know how to control himself, and he just attacks sometimes, that’s all,” I respond with annoyance. “Yeah, sure it is,” Jordan mumbles back. I feel a stab of guilt as I lie to him. Jordan is the only one that didn’t push me too hard, physically and mentally. I just can’t tell him though ‒ it’s too hard. My dad

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“Oh geez, what happened to you? Do you need medical treatment?” the man finally said, his voice full of concern. I couldn’t speak. I was just frozen in place. It could’ve been my chance to get away from this terrible place, but what would I say? “No, she’s fine, just a little bruised and cut. She doesn’t need any medical attention really. It’s no big deal,” my dad says in a hurry, chuckling nervously. “Just a LITTLE cut and bruised? Brian, what is the meaning of this? She obviously needs help…” the man says, but I didn’t stay to listen to everything. I ran up to my room and cried. I kept crying,

“Hey! Who do you think you are? You get back here! I’m calling the police!” I hear the entrance monitor scream. “Where is she?” screams another voice. I’m all too familiar with the second voice. Horror and dread lift every hair on my body. My stomach and heart fall to my feet. “Hey, Erren. Are you okay?” Jordan asks with concern, gently holding my shoulders as he looks into my deathly pale face. I stare back into his soft chocolate brown eyes, mute. I am not okay, everything is wrong. How could he be here? He doesn’t even know where my school is. Does he? How did he find me? Brandon Grimbilas painting

wanting to kill myself for not being able to stick up for myself. Wondering what was wrong with me, and why I was living in this world if being tortured was my only purpose. I stayed in bed and didn’t come out until the next morning for school. My father wasn’t there, but I know something bad was coming my way. I didn’t know where or when, but I knew I was going to feel his wrath soon...I know it. “RRRRRIIIIIINNNNNGGGGG!!!!!” “C’mon. That’s the second bell, we should get going,” Jordan motions in the direction of our next class. I sigh and close my locker. My flashback from two days ago makes me question, when will this life be over? Or is this how it will be for the rest of my life. If so, then why not just end it already?

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“ERREN!” I hear my dad scream. I slowly turn around to face what I

actually care about feel my dad’s wrath. “Get out of my way, boy!” my dad screams and slams Jordan into the lockers on the side. I can see a dent in the lockers from the impact of Jordan’s body. I want to scream. He looks dazed. He feels the back of his head, and his hand comes up red. I have to help him. But how can I do that when my own legs are weak and heavy like lead? Teachers rush to help Jordan and a few of them try to grab my dad. But he just swats them away like flies. Other teachers scramble to call the police, help injured peers, and try to evacuate other students. Another punch to my stomach knocks me out of my thoughts. “How dare you show up in front of my boss looking the way you do? I could have gotten a promotion! A better job than what I have now! That could have been a way to get more than I have right now,” my dad screams, spitting on me as he pummels me. “Well, I look the way I do because of you!” I retort between punches, loud enough for only a few people to hear. I am burning with animosity for my dad and for

have always dreaded my whole life. I look up to see his beet-red face. Without warning, he raises his hand and brings it down hard against my cheek. I fall back a little as I feel my head throb and soar with pain. I feel the healing gash on my temple from my previous wounds open up again. I see that he is about to do it again, but Jordan jumps in the way. “Hey! Who do you think you are waltzing about into the school and then throwing punches at her? The police are coming. I hope you know that!” he screams at my dad. I want to yell at him to get out of the way, that he has no idea what he is getting himself into by addressing my dad with that attitude. I can’t let the only person I Sophie Edelman painting

the useless bystanders, yet that is all I can say? A kick comes to my side and I fall to the floor as pain shot through my body. “How DARE you talk to me that way? I am your FATHER! The person who raised you! You're ALIVE because of me! My boss left

the house in anger and disappointment! Why?

Because of you! I could be fired within the next few days! If I’m fired I’m ruined!

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Your mother would be disappointed if she saw me now,” my dad hollers, getting quiet at the end. “Mom would NEVER be proud of you either way, after the way you kept abusing me all these years! I remember her. She was kind and beautiful, and I fell apart when she died in that car crash, too. She would HATE you for sure if she saw how you have treated me these past years. You think you're doing the best for me? Mom wouldn’t say the same,” I hiss with anger. I can still picture my mom in my mind. The way her gentle sweet voice rang through my head. The way her gentle hands cradled me. I was five when she died in a car accident. My mom was pregnant again. It was late at night with a light drizzle in the air. My dad was home panicking because my mom said that she must get to the hospital. She had said something about her water breaking. My dad argued with her and told her he should drive her, but my mom insisted on just calling a cab. My dad finally gave in, and she waddled out of the house with her hands over her stomach. But everything went wrong, a reckless driver crashed into the taxi. The whole front side of the car was trashed, and just like that, she was gone forever. way. You have NO idea what I have been through! And now, you are going to be sorry you said that!” he howls. Before I know what’s happening, he yanks open a locker with so much force the door of the locker makes a huge dent in the locker next to it. My dad pulls out a fire extinguisher stored in a locker. The teachers start running to him as he races towards me. All I can do is let my eyes widen in realization and struggle to get up. “Erren, no! Get out of the way!” I hear Jordan scream, frantically motioning for me to move. My dad’s face goes even redder. “Don’t you EVER talk to me that

But my dad gets to me first, and everything seems to slow down from there. He holds the fire extinguisher with both hands on the operating levers and raises it so high it covers the light above me. I watch him bring it down towards me. I look down towards the floor closing my eyes. The back of my head shears and explodes with pain. I guess it literally is exploding with blood too. “ERREN!” I hear Jordan shout out, but all I can see is the beige tiled floor. His voice sounds so far away. I let darkness slowly trickle over my vision. “Please, ma’am, I’m her best friend. You're a nurse, please tell me if she is going to wake up.” I know that voice so well— it’s Jordan’s. He’s talking to a nurse? That must mean I am in a hospital. But I can’t see anything. My eyelids are too heavy to open, and I can't feel my head. Then I hear something, the nurse’s voice, whispering in my ear. “Listen, honey, I know you have been through so much, and I understand if you want to move on. But if you want to stay here, to continue living in this world, you're going to have to fight. Fight against this coma. Fight for the ones who are still here for you,” So, I’m in a coma, and if I wanna live I will have to fight back. I could try, but would my fight be enough?

To be continued…

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Ishwar Kumbam photograph

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The Devastating Dragon

A fire breathing dragon emerged from the sky, Appearing to be grotesque, mean and sly.

He furiously knocked things down, Creating a mess and chaos in the town.

There was commotion and confusion all around, As people were dashing helter skelter on the ground.

Cars were burnt and buildings were charred, The beauty and elegance of the town got marred.

Cats were meowing and dogs were howling, And this created a hubbub in the house of Mr. Rowling.

There was a faint knock on my bedroom door, Followed by a very load roar.

That hideous dragon jumped out of the blue, It was like something I never knew.

As soon as I saw him I started to swelter, Mother yelled, “Hurry up and take shelter!”

I then realized I had a magical stick, Which I used to turn that beast into a brick.

I jumped with joy and let out a scream, Fell from the bed and discovered that it was only a dream!

Smridhi Mahajan

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Jackie Kozell digital drawing

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My Friend

When you lose a friend, you lose more than a heart, you lose a little bit of yourself It's hard when someone can walk past you and act like you were never a big part of their life My heart is shattered like glass, even when put back together, the friendship is just not the same Just because I'm smiling, it doesn't mean I'm happy, it means that I'm strong The problem with being the strong one is no one gives YOU a hand I try to hide my pain with fake smiles and pretend I don't care-but inside I'm deeply hurt I told you everything and you were always there-the shoulder to cry on but now you have no idea what's happening in my life My whole body numb-emptiness inside my heart-my mind racing-denying this is really happening Not a day goes by that I don't think of you and cry so hard only to know you’re not there when I need you most The hardest part of losing someone is to learn to live without them Anyone can say move on but when you're in their situation you'll understand the heartache You are like my brother and I wouldn't trade the world for you When someone would ask if I knew you, a million memories flash through my eyes and I could only say "I used to" Everyone would tell me I wasn't my usual self-that I couldn't hide When all my hope was gone, you came back and lifted me up-my happiness back and this time my smiles real Thankful for listening this time-My mom gave me the best advice anyone could give-time and patience Sometimes, two people need to fall apart to realize how much they need to fall back together

Kirara Fried

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Mrudul Nagapurkar photograph

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Queenly Xie sketch

Executive Board

Editor-in-Chief Rachel Leibowitz Assistant Editor-in-Chief Victoria Wei Club President Sriya Guduru

Art Editor Frances Lai Literature Editor Frances Lai

Staff

Andrea Emmanuel Ethan Garcia Hannah Mikelis Kathryn Tam

Leo Jiang Matthew Wei Michelle Choi Rachel Li

Samantha Ko Shriya Minocha Smridhi Mahajan Sofia Miloseska

Suezette Given Michael Miller

Advisors

Submissions All students of Lazar Middle School are eligible to submit original artwork and writing for consideration for publication in the magazine. Students are eligible to submit as many items as they would like for consideration. Submission should be submitted electronically to thewrite.eye@montville.net. Club Information Write Eye meets with the purpose of perusing submissions to be included in the magazine. The students are responsible for item selection and completion of the magazine. All students are welcome to attend meetings. Colophon The magazine was typed on school computers using Microsoft Word, various Google apps, and various photo editing programs. The magazine used Times New Roman text of various sizes.

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