Dear Readers,

What you are about to read is a collection of the best work that was submitted to us over the course of the semester. As a new editor to Nevermore, it is a tough task to take over the reins from the previous editor. With all the quality issues of Nevermore that have come out in the past, I wanted to continue in that tradition by making sure each Franklin Pierce Students voice was being heard. But, those expectations entailed chunks of stress and a lot of pressure to produce this magazine. My staff and I have worked hard to decide which pieces should be incorporated in this magazine. Each submission was read anonymously by my staff; for anonymity to be maintained, I took the submissions and pooled them into two different word documents. That way work isnt being judged solely on a name, but on content. For this semesters issue, we wanted to have a wide range of genres and subject matter. I am very pleased to have many pictures and writing involving nature, man-made objects, and abstract life stories, among other subjects. As a poet-fanatic, this issue will contain more poetry than issues past. One of my favorite pieces to this magazine is the series of Anonymous Six-Word Poems. It is my rebuttal to last springs issue of the six-word memoirs. But, you still will find creative images and spectacular pieces of good writing. Thanks to the constant support from President, Dr. James Birge, Dean, Dr. Kerry McKeever, Provost, Dr. Kim Mooney and Humanities Division Chair, Dr. Jed Donelan. Finally, thanks for the financial support that has come from the Humanities Division, for without it, this publication would not be possible. Id like to thank a few people for their help in creating this magazine with me: Professor Alan Schulte for his support and guidance and my staff for helping to collaborate and design the structure of the magazine. And finally, I would to thank my brother, David Moore, for his extensive work on this magazine. He was responsible for creating and designing the cover art for this issue. I know I dont say it often, but thank you David for everything. I am so excited for everyone to read this issue. So, sit down and get comfortable in your chair and enjoy.
Yours Truly,

Dylan Moore
Dylan Moore

The Fall 2013 Issue of Nevermore was funded and supported by:

President, Dr. James Birge Dean, Dr. Kerry McKeever Provost, Dr. Kim Mooney Humanities Department Chair, Dr. Jed Donelan

CONTENTS
Pearly Pond Sandra Messina Nostalgia Steve Nardone Eyes of Sunshine- Alex Smith The World Danced for Me- Jessica Wood As Birds Fly into Each Other Sam Triolo Dualism of Fear Charles Caulkins Sojourn 1- Jess Gerrior Puff Dragons- Dylan Moore Journey Down the Road Less Traveled Alex Smith Mine Forever- Lindsey Lebeau Sorrow of the Lonely- Alisha Cole Chirp- Charles Caulkins Flying Amongst the Clouds- Alex Smith For Ariel- Sam Triolo Sojourn 2- Jess Gerrior Six Word Poems The Raven- Edgar Allan Poe Autumn Morning Mystery- Sandra Messina Kite Googled Eyes Dylan Moore Jill by Sam Triolo Pheonix- Alisha Cole Career- Charles Caulkins Titles Go in the Center Sea of Black- Jessica Wood AOC- Kim Barthelemy The Moons Light- Ashley McCormick Sonnet- Steve Nardone Confessions- Jessica Wood Inside Glass- Sam Triolo One with the Current- Alex Smith Sonnent- Lindsey Lebeau Confused Yet? Swinging an Outcome- Dylan Moore Rosebud Diner- Sandra Messina

For all those grass-on-the-other-side type of people. Enjoy this issue.

NEVERMORE
The Staff
Dylan Moore \ Editor-In-Chief Steve Nardone \ Editor, Nevermores Spring 2014 Editor-in-Chief Rachel Lofgren \ Editor Danielle Turcotte \ Editor Jessica Wood \ Editor

Pearly Pond

Sandra

Messina

Nostalgia
These streets are lined, With hollowed out memories, Willows whisper with want, Their leaves drop slowly, Laughing down the sidewalk, Holding hands and dancing like tornados, The diamond sky dangles above, Tugging at my coat like a fish on a hook, The rooftops huddle around, Telling me to leave, to search no longer, In this old town; with its brick face and solemn eyes, And its secrets, There will be no telling.

Steve Nardone

Eyes of Sunshine

Alex Smith

The World Danced For Me

I was sixteen years old and heading to Paris for eleven days. Looking back on those eleven days all that was really missing was a tortured romance that left me changed and altered forever like in the movies. Thankfully I didnt, it wasnt that I thought those kinds of movies were bad but in my family there have been nine divorced between six people. So by the time I was sixteen and leaving for an eleven day trip to Paris even though everything around me had the makings of being a great love comedy, I wouldnt even have let it happen if one tried. I was with my best friends, Lea and Lexie, who are my life line to this very day. I

had a list of the people I loved back home that I had to get presents for but none of it became real until I was flying over the Atlantic and seeing the sun set over the horizon, of the world, on my left side. Ill never forget the colors of it all, the brash yellow and almost snow white seemed to blind me as it shinned through my window until it was swallowed into the cold violet and then a somber midnight blue that left the stars to slowly tinged around me for only what felt like a moment because before I could let the beauty of what just happened sink in, the sun rose on my right. It seemed like my heart called out the world that I needed to see such a beautiful sight again and it rewinded the moment for one more time for me to see. The whole plane slept around me, Lexies head nudged on my shoulder. I stayed up and watch the colors of the sun dance with the sea, as if it the world were dancing for me.

Jessica Wood

who can tell us what goes wrong during fertilization? tell class what god does this.

as birds fly into each other

outside are car accidents. 1 hand shows through a toothed hole in a windshield; gets to slapping air and i feel taking 1 night would help. It would be sick to not take 1; write to how thankful i get some mornings to breathe normally. ambulance horns over lecture. the girl beside the exit; files 1 nail with another, then a tooth. she has been giving herself the wash for 53 minutes. there are 22 left; she is as primed as she will get during 1 Introduction to Psychology class and knows this and still tucks 1 hair back into her bun; checks herself using a phone monitor. 1 night without

windshields, monitors. 1 night and sheets to the eyelids.

Sam Triolo

Dualism of Fear
I The dark is daunting and intimidating, with long prickly claws. Beasts of black threaten to forever sate their appetite. Their ugly features, their odd rituals and their cannibalistic nature: Why ruin things into Chaos?! II The light is judgmental, waving around burning scepters. Warriors of white threaten to take over in His light. Their piggish faces, their lying masks and their greed for more: Justice is blind! No More Order!

Charles Caulkins

Sojourn 1

Jess Gerrior

Puff Dragons

Greyness enters the mouth through a lit stick, Two bleached-white sneakers lay on the couch. The clocks hand move in slow-motion, Biting fingernails in-between each puff, Exhaling thin smoke lines out my nose. Commercials never seem to tailor my needs, Skinny models slutting around latest fads. A teenaged-sky pushes the depressed sun:

Hurried As this orange tip consumes the rest of cigarette. Phones in the hands of phony people Pushers following right behind. Inhaling deeper and faster, Anything to zone out.

Dylan Moore

Journey Down the Road Less Traveled By

Whats a life worth, if one is not living? What a life worth, if one is content with settling? Waiting for a picture perfect painting, Lost within ones thoughts, just contemplating. Traveling down a crowded road, Of which one did not choose to pick. Living in the shadows, of what ifs A life filled with words, never followed by actions. As one watch regrets pile to the ceiling, Closing ones eyes, never seeing to believing. As one lets their past, hold their future hostage, Only steps back, never steps to move forward. If one is fearful of something, That means its worth trying. Dont wait for change, be the change, Live with hope, love with everything.

Alex Smith

Excerpt of Mine Forever Gazing into the mirror I could see the enormous bags under my eyes, looking like dark craters beneath my thin skin. The folds of my wrinkles made my face look distorted and the combination of age spots and scars up and down my cheeks looked absolutely repulsive. My graying hair resembled small tufts of grass sticking out of my scalp, surrounded by countless pale bald spots. Turning on the sink, I peered into my once ice blue eyes, splashing the cool water against my face, and feeling the wrinkles as my hands glided over my cheeks. As I shuffled across the tile floor, I felt Mister, my cane, stick in the spot where the tile cracked years ago. The rubber at the bottom caught on the edge and I lurched forward, catching myself on the worn doorframe of my bathroom, my weak fingers grasping the wood so hard my knuckles began to turn white. God damn it! What the hell you do that for Mister? You stupid piece of shit! As I let go of the door frame, I felt the blood return to the tips of my fingers, the pasty color of my skin slowly coming back. Continuing my way to my closet, I watched Mister like a hawk. I could feel the coarse wood of his handle in my palm. Dont you dare pull any more fast ones Mister. If you make me trip there will be hell to pay. Hobbling across the room to my closet, I grasped the door handle, steadying myself with one hand on the handle, the other on Mister. As I opened the door, the familiar smell of moth balls and cologne filled my nostrils. Stepping into the closet, I saw all of my suits and dress shirts lined up nicely according to color. What shall I wear for the Mrs. today Mister? Today is a very special day! I peered down at him, waiting for an answer, but he never said a word. No matter what I said to him he never replied. Sometimes I felt as though he listened though, so I always kept talking. All right, fine. Ill pick it out myself ! Running my worn hands over my shirts, they felt soft and silky. Ah, I should wear this one! I know the Mrs. thinks I look stunning in blue. I struggled to get the navy blue shirt off the hanger, the collar getting caught in the wire frame. I stripped off my night shirt, letting it fall to the ground at my feet. Looking down at my body I noticed the slight bulge of my stomach from all those years of beer drinking as a young man.

 Leaning against the doorframe of my closet, I slipped one arm into the shirt, then put Mister in my other hand, and slipped my other arm in. I struggled with the buttons, my arthritic fingers fumbling with each side of the shirt, trying to get the buttons securely in their proper holes. You see this Mister? I can barely get my hands to button a damn shirt. As usual he said nothing, but over the years I learned to not let that bother me. I proceeded to pick out a pair of black slacks and matching dress socks; I had to sit down to get them on though. My old legs could barely handle standing up, even with Mister there to help me. Finally dressed and ready to meet the Mrs., I gazed into the full body mirror on the back of my closet door. It had cracks in the top of it from when Mister got a little angry and hit it, but it still worked for the most part. My shirt was a tad wrinkly and not tucked in evenly, but I knew the Mrs. wouldnt mind. I wore her favorite color and doused myself in her favorite cologne, the kind that smelled like that sexy man on the television. Even with the scars all over my face, and the patches of hair on my head, I felt handsome and I hoped she would appreciate my effort. Well, look at me Mister! I shape up pretty good, huh? I held him firmly in my hand, steadying myself so I wouldnt lose my balance. Do you think shell think I look nice Mister? I really tried extra hard today, even though I do that every day. I want her to notice it more today though. I want her to know that I love her. That everything I did was for her and only her. So we could be together and she would be mine, forever. Stepping out of the closet, I shut the door gently behind me, and Mister and I started across the room to meet the Mrs. She sat in the chair by the window every day, staring out at the people on the street, never blinking. She wore my favorite outfit of hers a light pink cardigan with tan slacks and a white camisole, the neckline falling just above her breasts. Her hair had been the same for about two years now, pulled back in a tight bun, her bangs being small wisps of white hair that slightly brushed her forehead. Her eyes were distant, but very beautiful, being a deep hazel color and her arms rested gently on the arm rests of her old wooden rocking chair. She looked calm and collected, maybe even relaxed. She was just so beautiful and I loved her ever since I met her. I could never ever live without her.

As I made my way across the hardwood floor, I could hear Misters footsteps alter-

nating with my own. I slowly lowered myself into my chair, next to the Mrs., laying Mister softly on the floor, and gazed out at the street. Hello darling. Ive spent the last half hour or so making myself look nice for you. I know how important you think looks are, and I thought it would be a nice thing for me to do. Dont you think so? Because I sure do. But anyway, I just know that today is a very special day, and I want to make it as special as possible. I pulled a red rose out of my pocket and placed it on her lap. She didnt move. Happy Valentines Day sweetheart! I know it isnt much, but I know red roses are your favorite. I just wanted to tell you that I love you. I love you so much that I would do anything for you, and you need to know that I cant live without you. If I ever saw you with someone else I would die. I would get so angry and upset and I just wouldnt be able to live with myself if I saw you with someone. If anyone ever tried to steal you away from me I would probably go crazy, insane even! I felt my pulse quicken and my face flush as I glanced over at her.

Lindsey Lebeau

The Sorrow of the Lonely

Muddy tears slide down a white canvas, The dips and grooves collecting moisture. Green rimmed in red staring back, Painted from a brush dripping with anger.

Poem by Alisha Cole Photograph by Ali Memhard

Chirp
A bird Ive never seen before makes a passing visit. I recall its detail vividly before it flies away. I see the bird again as a wooden doll years later. I buy it out of interest, even if I never bother to figure Out the name of the bird. The rainbow of colors Stand out most to me. The red-orange feet, The yellow chest feathers and green back feathers, With a light blue cranium and black-and-blue Wings and tail feathers. The face is unique for Black lines curl from the inky beak and nearly Touch the eyes again. Are they cheekbone markings? Or a distinctive mustache for a canary? The tail is especially interesting as it fits between my thumb and hand easy. Almost every day, I take the cheap, little toy From its shelf perch by the tail and pretend Im walking it as it flies. All the while singing a Silly tune I made up for it. Chirp-a-chirp-a-chirp-a-chirp It means nothing but a fleeting joy. Of a bird I saw but never will again, As the meeting was as fleeting as its beating wings. The wood is light but lifeless, hardy but hollow, The wings are fake, and the paint has started to fade. But for someone who has few pleasures And even fewer possessions, it is simple and fun. I find myself singing this humble tune even as I, Now recently, Go to the park to feed the birds some bread and seeds. Chirp-a-chirp-a-chirp-a-chirp. Chirp-a-chirp-a-chirp-a-chirp.

Charles Caulkins

Flying Amongst the Clouds

Alex Smith

For Ariel
Closure comes and I died and been dead for grief-periods. Die earlier; each life; the animals grow warm toward people. Earth gets soft with poets stacking pages for Ariels stool. I sit with her for dove white moments and watch them practice signatures. They do it in lecture, in dark, in kitchens. Ariel tilts her head and we clap before she sends me back to them for air again.

Sam Triolo

Sojourn 2

Jess Gerrior

 1* Writing, is my take on life. \2\ Jesus stands tall, but you dont.

Anonoymous Six Word Poems

3] Gummy Worms. Homework. Televison. No time. 4) Fresh sawdust smell, drives me crazy.

{5} Pray for thanksThen always complain.

#6 Cant think, Therefore I must Tweet.

@7 Weird noises scare even Charles Dickens

Excerpt of The Raven

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, I said, art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Nights Plutonian shore! Quoth the Raven Nevermore. Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as Nevermore. But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered not a feather then he fluttered Till I scarcely more than muttered Other friends have flown before On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before. Then the bird said Nevermore. Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, Doubtless, said I, what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of Never nevermore.
This version of the poem is from the Richmond Semi-Weekly Examiner, September 25, 1849
Copyright Information Poem: The Raven Author: Edgar Allan Poe, 180949 First published: 1845 Public Domain of the United States

Autumn Morning Mystery

Sandra Messina

Kite
Some people are tumbleweeds, and some people are rocks. Some people are able are The wind was full, blowing the leaves into the air to play with the clouds. It was her The Kite was trying

willing to go anywhere. Some people stay put. She was a Kite. favorite. The little boy took out his favorite kite to play in the breeze. He thought it might be safe this time. The Kite loved to go high into the sky. She wanted to be to fly away, but she was being held back. The boy was holding her down trying to keep her from flying away; from flying too high. But she wanted to get out of the life on the ground. She wants to go where ever the breeze will take her. But the string was bounded down to the earth. He was not letting go. She doesnt know where she wants to end up. But she wanted to know the journey to get there. The breeze takes her hand and she grips tight, she will follow anywhere. The wind understands her and knows her needs. The wind will never judge her and makes her feel invincible. The wind was all she had and it kept her alive. But the wind will never tell her where they were going. She knows nothing else. If the wind dies down, she falls, dependant on the wind to keep her afloat. She trusts the wind. A large gust blows and whispers follow me The string breaks. And he was free. She started to blow away. Ill always follow you. She says to the wind. The wind softens. Wait dont go Its too late. The wind lets her fall. Her hand slips out of the winds. The little boy holding the broken string was on the ground. She saw him and tried to coast through the air towards him but she was too far gone. CRASH. I trusted you, she whispers. The little boy comes running over. She was broken. The holder, sad in the face, picked her up. Leave me, she says. I wish I could, He says. He took the kite home to mend. Why couldnt you just leave me to rot, she asks. You know I cant do that, He responds. You are broken and you know you are broken, but you keep trying to get away. You have fallen so many times; over and over. I cant fix you forever. You will just keep trying to fly. If you fly too far, I may not be able to pick you up and fix you anymore. Please let me help you. I will fix you. The kite remained silent, ashamed of what she had become. She was broken. How could she keep doing this to the little boy?

 I cant fix you forever. You will just keep trying to fly. If you fly too far, I may not be able to pick you up and fix you anymore. Please let me help you. I will fix you. The kite remained silent, ashamed of what she had become. She was broken. How could she keep doing this to the little boy? She watched him trying to mend her, and she pitied him. I will never be fixed. He was silent for a moment before responding I need to try. I need you to try. Okay, she replied. NO! he yells after her as he watches her go out of sight. He chased, but the clouds She is so excited. She got away. Finally, she was free. The wind pushed her and shoved were too thick. She was gone. her, left and right. She felt the thunder. She was higher than she has ever been before. It was all new to her. She felt the pain of every hit. She never realized she could enjoy pain this much. The ground was out of sight and she could no longer find her way. She was alone, and she realized for the first time that she had no one to hold her back. She gasps for a moment as it sunk in that the boy was gone. She searched the ground, but he was nowhere to be seen. He finally let her go. For the first time, she was afraid of the sky, knowing that she had no one to protect her. The clouds cracked and growled at her. The thunder mocked her as she flew helplessly through the air. The lightning was chasing her and she was trying to get away. She saw an opening in the clouds. She raced towards it. The wind blew her back and laughed at her. She screamed for the boy to save her. The clouds grabbed her and threw her towards the ground with one fateful blow. She fell quickly as she began to fall apart. The pressure of impact broke her beyond repair. She waited there for her holder, but he never came. That is where she stayed. Her wood began to rot and her body deteriorate. She called out for the boy, hoping he would hear, but he couldnt hear her, nor was he listening. The little boy had stopped chasing after her, turned around, and went home. He realized he couldnt fix her forever. He had made it his lifes duty to protect her, but that life was over. He decided that he should only have friends that stayed on the ground rather than in the clouds. The ones in the clouds have farther to fall.

Googled Eyes

Rushing focuet water pulses onto my red-rosed cheeks. Not sober enough to write these words down; Dropping countless coins in a second. Waiting for Cupids Arrow to bestow me with my true love; Yeah, right, wishful thinking People whisper into my ear about their lives. I swear, I will cut them off like Van Gough, That man was onto something. Common sense has completely skipped past this generation. Chinese menus scattered on my dining table. Dont have the courage to call, Instead I get up for another bottle, Anything to escape this realm, My liver cant rebound from the constant kamokasis every night. Waiting for destiny to wash upon shore, What a fat chance. As this life fast-fowards by my still body, I know Im not special, No I dont seek attention. As if, Im Arthur from King of Queens, Saying silly things and live in a basement.

Dylan Moore

Jill

Nowhere to walk short of spending a day on it. Jill would die again, if here, from grief over herself. These old furnaces during winter are broken so I am cold. Jill gave me this tiny skin. I am under sheets in love with someone. Here there is nothing but to be in love and fight cold off.

Sam Triolo

Pheonix

Alisha

Cole

Career
I worked diligently then, because I was expected to. A low ranking position cleaning dishes watching food enter the black hole of waste. I thought myself decent even if I lashed out But it wasnt long before I was cut. Not for my behavior (or at least explicitly stated) but for business sake and outsourcing reliable adults. The years I struggled without a lifeline of finance or work, limited on what I had. A whole year of bitterness and searching, ending with kind rebuttals looking for different talent or, in one case, my own tardiness. Finally a door opens to me. And only me. Not Community Assistant, as I had intended, and expected to end with me searching once more. But to play on my searching, my diligence for something greater. With a clipboard and pencil at hand, brain gears churning, I work diligently now, because Im expected to.

Charles Caulkins

Titles Go in the Center

Watching the janitor clean the floor, Whilst sipping a Pepsi-Cola. Debating pointless-politics in my head. Realizing their is never a winner. You know you can overdose on vitamins? Silly but true. Hashing out words faster than hashtags on Twitter. Scrubbing my sins away by doing my landry; Trying to be as random as possible to lose myself. Like watching hair grow, Pointless. Keep your eyes on the illusion, Maybe your stupidity will disappear. Not likely. Since all you do is look at yourself in the mirror.

Sea of Black
Sad Faces surround me in a never ending sea of black. In my youth, the people who cast shadows over me seemed like theyd live forever. Yet here we are now. You in a box and me to prey over a lifeless body. We were just meeting, we were laughing, plans were being made for things to come. You were grandparents, Fathers, brothers, friends. Taken by cancer, Car accidents, And old hearts. Now your frozen in recent photographs of fits of joy. Yet as happy as you are in photos. Wet eyes stare blankly at your wonderful smile. In a never ending sea of black, sad faces surround me.

Jessica Wood

The AOC

I was alone. The clock on the cable box said it was 10:32. I looked around. I was lying on the couch. Nobody was around, but I saw on top of the table a little slip of paper; a note explaining the sudden disappearance of Andy. I frowned. I hoped nobody was hurt, but maybe if I called I could find out what was happening. I went into the kitchen to grab the phone. I turned it on. Immediately, the phone rang off the hook. I jumped back, dropping the phone and my crutches, gasping. The phone was disconnected. But why? Maybe the powers out. There were no lights on in the house at all. I flipped the light switch. Never mind. The power is working. But, I looked down at the phone. So, why wasnt it working? Just then, something crashed upstairs. Were my foster parents home already? They said the latest they would be out is eleven and its ten-thirty. I picked up my crutches and headed up the stairs. James? I called. Patricia? Nobody answered. HmmWhy wouldnt they be answering me? I heard the garage door open. What? They werent even inside the house yet? Then, what crashed upstairs? I went back down the stairs, but as I did so, the lights flickered on and off. What was going on? Why were all these things happening? A gust of wind blew from behind me. I spun around, but nothing was there. Its just a window. A window was open and it was windy out. A scream came from the living room. I jumped, staring into the room. The television turned itself on. I recognized the scene on the screen. It was from The Exorcist. So, anyways, I remembered Katyenka said, what about Benedetta and her movie or TV show? Who was she compared with? Her favorite movie is The Exorcist. My eyes widened in horror, as I remembered that conversation. Benedettas here. Shes coming here. Shes coming to kill me. They all are. The Karmoz, the evilest of all creatures in. Theyre all here to kill me. Oh no. I ran for my life. I had to get away. I ran down to the basement. They didnt know where that was, nor would they have suspected me to run here. Theyre all upstairs, I was sure of it. Either there or on the ground level. They would think that I ran upstairs or out the door. I shut the basement door, turning on the light. I turned around and screamed, but my scream got caught in my throat. Literally.

 There was somebody there. Some guy Ive never seen before, but he couldnt be too much older than me. He had his hands around my neck, making it hard for me to breathe. Im dead, I knew. Im dead. Hes going to kill me. Say goodbye, Angel, he said. He lowered his head to my neck, opening his mouth slightly. No. He cant drink my blood. Hes a vampire; I wont let him drink my blood and kill me. I squinted, as he went flying backwards through telekinetic force. I opened the door and ran out of the basement. I barely acknowledged the pain in my ankle and in my head, as I grabbed the phone from the floor. I continued to race upstairs, as the lights continued to flicker on and off. The stereo was turning itself on and off, blasting music, and switching radio stations continuously. I turned on the phone. Please, please, please, let there be a dial tone. There was! I started to dial Andys cell phone number, as I ran into my bedroom. Nothing seemed to be too bad in there, just the lights and T.V. were on and flickering. When I hit the sixth digit on the phone, though, there came a voice. A girls. Hello, Sophia, she said menacingly. I hung up and threw the phone across the room. I turned to look out the window. Beneath me were a glow of golden eyes. I ran out of the room, fear rushing through my veins. There was no way out. There was no way to escape. They had me trapped. I couldnt go out into the darkness. The werewolves were out there and who knows what else. I couldnt help but give a small shriek, as I ran back down into the kitchen. I have to defend myself. Andy will save me. Somebody will save me. They have to. I couldnt die right here. Im only sixteen; I have to survive this. But, how could I? These people that want to kill me are ruthless and brutal. Theyve been through so much worse than me, whats not to stop them from killing me? A feeling of being bested and conquered overcame me. There was no chance for me to survive. But I had to try to fight back. I pulled open one of the kitchen drawers. I grabbed the largest knife I could find, shutting the drawer to prevent them from trying to do anything. Come and get me! I screamed, praying the Karmoz could hear me. Just try to! I wasnt afraid anymore. Instead, I felt brave. They couldnt defeat me. Ill fight them to save myself. I wasnt scared of them anymore. Suddenly, the knife ripped itself from my hands and went flying into the wall across from me. I screamed. Theyre going to send the butcher knife after me now. If they can send it flying out of my hands, theyll easily make it stab me from behind. I ran, looking behind me as I went. The backdoor had opened and a dark figure was standing in the doorway.

 I turned back around, forcing myself to run farther. But, my ankle wasnt going to let me. It was screaming for me to stop and slow down, but I couldnt unless I wanted to die. I tried to keep going, but I fell forward, landing hard on the ground. Dazed, I knew it was pointless to try to stand up. Instead, I stayed back on my hands and knees and crawled as fast as I could. I didnt get far, when something grabbed me from behind. They pulled me up in the air, bringing a knife to my throat. I could feel their hot breath on the back of my neck, as they took labored breaths. They were going to kill me right now. Right here and now. I waited for the touch of the knife at my throat. I anticipated the sting and my cries, as my blood spilt all over the floor. But, it didnt come. The Karmoz just stood there, with the knife to my throat. They started speaking in Karmoz to somebody, but no one was in front of me. Suddenly, they jumped and I fell forwards. I felt the anticipated stinging of the knife, but it was at my cheek and temple. I landed back on the ground, blacking out, with a horrendous taste in my mouth of my own blood. I was in fire. I was in fire and I was burning. Pain overthrew any other thoughts and feelings and emotions in my body. All I saw was red. Like, blood swimming over my eyes. My head throbbed. I tried to move, but I couldnt. The pain sharpened wherever I tried to move. I started to scream, but the sound destroyed my ears and the pain ripped through my throat. It burned just to have opened my mouth. But, I screamed, as if screaming would get rid of the fire and take away the pain. As if. This pain has to stop. It was indescribable. It was like a boulder was crushing my body and I had been shot everywhere. Or I was stabbed and left for dead and then, I was shot. I was poisoned. The pain could have been poison. Poison that was burning me from the inside out. Yes, no matter what, I was burning. I was burning alive. I was suffering and dying. I screamed in agony. I thrashed. Please. Please. Please, let this pain stop. I cant take it. It has to stop. Please, whoever is up there, save me. Or, just kill me now. Just kill me and let it be done and over with. Unless I was already dead and this was Hell. If it is, did I really deserve it? What have I done that makes me deserve to be in Hell? I have done nothing my entire life. What could I have possibly done? Kim Barthelemy

The Moons Light She was running through the moon lit forest, twigs snapping up at her legs, biting at her skin. Her feet were bound in worn shoes, barely hanging on to running feet. Her lungs burned as if there were a white hot coal settled in them. Gotta run, cant stop. If I stop they catch me. I cant go back. Wont let them catch me. Keep running, she thought. Gotta go, gotta go, dont stop. She could hear them chasing after her, yelling, commanding her to stop. She didnt think the whole group was chasing her, maybe seven at the most, but it was more than enough. It was a sick game they were playing, and she didnt want to lose. Losing meant going back, and going back is a fate worse than death. The sweat poured down her face, glittering in the moons light. They were getting closer she knew it. She couldnt look back, but she knew they were catching up. They were always going to win. The forest floor did little to help her escape. The dirt and rocks should have been of little importance; she had gotten over bigger obstacles than pebbles and insects. But she knows she cant outrun time and you cant outrun your destiny. She didnt want that life, but somehow she found herself living it. Crunch, crunch, crack! Their footsteps sound closer. She isnt going to win. She will never get her happily ever after (though she stopped believing in those years ago). Its a hopeless battle, she knows that, but she runs on. Dont stop. Dont stop. Dont stop. She can see it, freedom, moving on from her past. Maybe she can win, the end is right there. She just has to run faster, has to believe in a better life, she is so close. The moons light is brighter here, a torch at the finish line. They are close to her, but she is closer to her freedom. Just keep running A thunderous crack rang out throughout the forest, the end of the chase. A clear winner and loser. And the moon illuminated the forest.

Ashley McCormack

New Love: A Shakespearean Sonnet

I have come this far away from my love, Through darkened night we fought for what we had, Dreams be not dreamed without she I think of, My quarters are cold; moonrises are sad, Gone, love does not tempt nor burden me more, Gifts of life surround; each corner a new, See, the sun does not set on each soft shore, Every leaf fallen has lead me to you, Tall to sight; beautiful, figure of gold, I forget my past; my future is true, A thousand times more our love will be told, My new love, you, will live through my words too, Death nor departure can bring forth a pill, To end my loves life, in words ever still.

Steve Nardone

Confessions
I sit in a box a screen separates us so that you do not see the shame smeared on my face. I speak the words. my voice is shaking. I stop, you say a prayer. They arent so bad. Even though you say my soul is clean. As I leave His sacred house I feel the presence of my sins eternally staining my broken heart. Jessica Wood

Inside Glass
Inside glass his hands shake away a

fold and tobacco snows onto the table and into and under his shadow. His night ends this way and there is panic before people die; Topanga spits up and locks herself in there with the vomit, purging toward something easier to carry. It isnt attractive and she can hold her own hair like a widowed or dismissed drunk and I am leaned over on a wall and I am proud to quit beside her door like a loyal animal.

Sam Triolo

One With the Current

The wind became stronger, as the waves lost all control. Nothing but memories lost within the current Defeat, Distraught, and yet Determined. Lighting bolts striking cracks within the sky, As thunder begins to roar, triggering all the silence. Each raindrop splashing the oceans surface, Holding on to hope, wishing for land. Beautiful memories within sand castles Disappearing into the ocean. Reaching for the stars of destiny, As the moonlight hides all of the darkness. Unpredictable moments within our own dreams, Waking up to a reality, far from home. Breathing in the smell of sweet serenity, Breaking free from the heavy chains.

Alex Smith

Distance
Distance cannot sever the bond we share Her long fingers cannot tear us apart She cant separate us with her dark hair, The long strands falling over her black heart She cannot separate us with her arms Regardless of their strength I will get through I promise to protect us from all harm I will do anything to be with you I do not care how far away you are It could be one thousand miles or one Distance makes people feel the worst by far She tests relationships until theyre done No matter what she will not win this war We are in control; shes not anymore

Lindsey LeBeau

Confused Yet?

Axl Rose may be knocking on Heavens door, Justin Timberlake is probably still looking at mirrors, Michael Jackson was still grabbing his groin before This is It Brittany Spears will probably shave her head again. Jennifer Lopez is getting married again, Cher has too much cheek-bone action; Jay Z uses ahh a lot in the background of his latest CD. Eminem dropped his album to the mass. Blink 182 still sings about the potty, but now more mature. The only way that One Direction is going, is down. Jonas Brothers stopped making music after all the girls cheated on them with OD. And Tupac isnt alive.

Swinging an Outcome
Snowflakes fall gracefully, October knows. Humans got jealous of birds flying, So we built our own Birds. Im running on no fuel, Im not a car. Wishing I can call timeouts in life to get better. Summers are colder than winters Home doesnt even feel warm anymore. My heart is truly mIa, Then again, so are caring people. Least Im being honest. Changing clothes Wont change you. Kick a rock, [Waits] Do you feel different now? Didnt think so. So, keep driving to help me find, me.

Dylan Moore

Rosebud

Sandra

Messina

This is,

Nevermore

Fall 2013 English Division