By Travis Chambers
“You heard about that fire on 42nd Street,” asked Zach
“Nah, is it big?” I responded
“Didn’t start big but they couldn’t put it out. It was like one of those birthday candles that don’t go out,” he explained
I jammed my fork into the pasta I had just made and popped it into my mouth. We would have to help and a fire like this would be dangerous. “We’re going to go aren’t we?” I said. It was more of a statement than a question. He nodded. I finished up my pasta and we jogged off to get ready.
In the changing room every one was changing and trying to laugh their fear and worry away. We were all scared but were too prideful to show it. As the burning building came into view, I realized it was an old warehouse. They truck skidded to a stop and we all jumped out. Zach and I sprinted to report with Captain Meral who was the captain of the group that first got there. “We need you inside,” he told us. I nodded.
We turned and dashed of toward the building. The door was already busted and we could tell there were firemen in there already. “Help!” said a distant voice. I turned toward the voice. Zach turned and sprinted. A beam fell and hit knocking him through the floor. “NO!” I screamed.
Ignoring the flames I jumped through the hole and saw two fire men on the floor. One of them was Zach. “Help I broke my leg and cant move,” cried the other. Hoisting them on my shoulder I climbed through the hole and ran out the front door.
“Thanks, I was stupid,” mumbled Zach. I nodded angrily but he knew I was just as thankful as him.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Man in White
By Carter Burgess
Sweat trickled down Connor’s face, splashing into his eyes, and cascading down his blue shirt. He turned the block, and sprinted for the grocery store. Connor whipped his head back at a hundred miles an hour, his fierce hazel eyes scanning for it.
Suddenly, out of the blue, something grabbed his mouth, muffling him like a pillow. It pulled him back, as a bag that was as dark as black paint, and quite abrasive was thrown over his head. Connor was hoisted into a truck, and the engine hiccuped into gear, and bumped down the road. Now he was sure of it, the man in the white suit had captured him.
“Well, well, well. What do I have here?” The voice was smooth and perfect – too perfect, something was wrong.
“Look,” Connor said, “I don’t know your name, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know why you want me. Let me go and you won’t get hurt.” He wasn’t kidding this time. Connor had taken karate for ten years, and he was a third degree black belt, and he had also taken Jujitsu for about four years. Connor was only sixteen, but he was sure he would have no trouble fighting the man in the white suit. The man said nothing, but just chuckled. After a good half an hour or so, the truck jumped to a halt, sending Connor smashing into the seat in front of him. A stream of red blood flowed from his noise, and his head throbbed. A whirlwind of curses streamed from Connor’s mouth, in a low mumble. Then, a man shoved him carelessly out of the truck and pair of handcuffs were fastened to his hands. A twenty-pound weight was attached, making Connor slump. The engine roared, and the truck left.
Sweat trickled down Connor’s face, splashing into his eyes, and cascading down his blue shirt. He turned the block, and sprinted for the grocery store. Connor whipped his head back at a hundred miles an hour, his fierce hazel eyes scanning for it.
Suddenly, out of the blue, something grabbed his mouth, muffling him like a pillow. It pulled him back, as a bag that was as dark as black paint, and quite abrasive was thrown over his head. Connor was hoisted into a truck, and the engine hiccuped into gear, and bumped down the road. Now he was sure of it, the man in the white suit had captured him.
“Well, well, well. What do I have here?” The voice was smooth and perfect – too perfect, something was wrong.
“Look,” Connor said, “I don’t know your name, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know why you want me. Let me go and you won’t get hurt.” He wasn’t kidding this time. Connor had taken karate for ten years, and he was a third degree black belt, and he had also taken Jujitsu for about four years. Connor was only sixteen, but he was sure he would have no trouble fighting the man in the white suit. The man said nothing, but just chuckled. After a good half an hour or so, the truck jumped to a halt, sending Connor smashing into the seat in front of him. A stream of red blood flowed from his noise, and his head throbbed. A whirlwind of curses streamed from Connor’s mouth, in a low mumble. Then, a man shoved him carelessly out of the truck and pair of handcuffs were fastened to his hands. A twenty-pound weight was attached, making Connor slump. The engine roared, and the truck left.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
My Intriguing Elevator Ride
By Jackie Fancher
I entered the massive elevator jumping for joy. This is it, my audition for "The Office." I clicked the sixth floor on accident, but I needed to go to the third floor. Then, people came when I arrived on the sixth floor and clicked the twelfth floor without bothering to ask me what floor I needed to go on. I was frustrated because at 3:00, my audition would be starting. I was going to be late for the opportunity of a lifetime! After arriving at the twelfth floor, a parade of people stampeded into the elevator like they were cattle. They squished me like an ant, and then everyone chose floors twelve through thirty-six. How would I get to my audition being in the elevator for an hour? My head spun as the elevator continually rose and sunk past my floor. I stared at my watch disgustedly as I noticed the time was 3:55 PM, making me already 20 minutes late. When I finally reached floor thirty-six, I was so dizzy from my frustrating ride of terror that I needed a break. I stepped outside and in the corner of my eye I spotted Allison Jones, the casting director for The Office.
“Jane Morris? We’ve been waiting for you to come and audition for over an hour! You’re wasting time,” Allison Jones exclaimed. Frustrated, she hurried over to me.
“I’m so sorry, I was caught in this elevator ride for over an hour. Every time I tried to go to the third floor, someone came in and chose another floor. Before I knew it, I was all the way up here!” I mumbled.
“You thought we were on the third floor? We’re actually on the thirty-sixth floor!” Jane chuckled as she pulled me into the casting office.
Boarding School
By Eva Hitchcock
Samantha trudged along the pathway leading to her new dorm. In her hand was one suitcase filled with her belongings. She felt like bursting into tears, but held them back. It was her first day of boarding school and her first time far away from her parents. She had begged her father to not make her go, but he was determined that she needed such strict discipline and education. “You know that you can visit me on Easter, Christmas, and two weeks in summer,” he said.
“Can I visit you on my birthday?” inquired Samantha.
“I’m sorry Samantha. No.”
She couldn’t help it any more. Samantha started to sob. How could she ever be so far away from her parents, as if they were strangers to her? She felt empty inside, and only wanted her father to understand her.
Her dad dropped her bags in her new room and kissed her. “I’m sure that you’ll meet new friends honey.”
Samantha hugged him, “I’ll miss you so much daddy.”
“I’ll miss you too.” He walked out the door not even stopping to look back. Samantha wept into her pillow. She had never felt so miserable in her life.
At that moment a bell rang in the hall. “Will everyone please report to the cafeteria!” boomed a loud voice from the overhead.
Samantha wiped away her tears with her sleeve and strode to the cafeteria. She tried to forget her father but couldn’t. A girl in a blue-collard shirt and pleaded skirt walked by her and smirked, “So you’re the newbie, huh?”
“Yes. My name is Samantha. What’s yours?”
“My name is Chelsea. I already have friends. Good luck on your first day. You’ll need it.” Chelsea ran ahead. And so started Samantha’s first day of boarding school.
Samantha trudged along the pathway leading to her new dorm. In her hand was one suitcase filled with her belongings. She felt like bursting into tears, but held them back. It was her first day of boarding school and her first time far away from her parents. She had begged her father to not make her go, but he was determined that she needed such strict discipline and education. “You know that you can visit me on Easter, Christmas, and two weeks in summer,” he said.
“Can I visit you on my birthday?” inquired Samantha.
“I’m sorry Samantha. No.”
She couldn’t help it any more. Samantha started to sob. How could she ever be so far away from her parents, as if they were strangers to her? She felt empty inside, and only wanted her father to understand her.
Her dad dropped her bags in her new room and kissed her. “I’m sure that you’ll meet new friends honey.”
Samantha hugged him, “I’ll miss you so much daddy.”
“I’ll miss you too.” He walked out the door not even stopping to look back. Samantha wept into her pillow. She had never felt so miserable in her life.
At that moment a bell rang in the hall. “Will everyone please report to the cafeteria!” boomed a loud voice from the overhead.
Samantha wiped away her tears with her sleeve and strode to the cafeteria. She tried to forget her father but couldn’t. A girl in a blue-collard shirt and pleaded skirt walked by her and smirked, “So you’re the newbie, huh?”
“Yes. My name is Samantha. What’s yours?”
“My name is Chelsea. I already have friends. Good luck on your first day. You’ll need it.” Chelsea ran ahead. And so started Samantha’s first day of boarding school.
Monday, October 13, 2008
The House
By Malia Bates
One cold, foggy Halloween night my friends and I were out walking around looking for other houses to trick or treat at when we came across a house, not an ordinary house but one that we had never seen before even though we had be living here for 10 years. We anxiously walked up to the door. Just as I was about to knock on the door, it swung open. Timidly we walked in and looked around I felt as if this were a dream, this house filled with cobwebs and dust. The door slammed shut; full of terror I grabbed a hold of my best friend. As she went to try to re-open the door it wouldn’t open. I was now thinking we were never going to get out of here, my friend said, “It will be alright we just have to put our minds together and get out of here”.
“Ok,” I said somewhat trying to stay calm.
We all walked close together and looked for a way out when we came across a door. We wondered whether should we go and see where it took us, or just stay here hoping to get out. We decided to take the door and when we opened it, it led to a library filled with thousand of books. We all stood gazing around at the books looking for some way to get out. Then, we saw a secret passageway. We rushed and opened the door, which led to the outside. All of us ran for our lives to the closes home, which was mine. We got inside and relaxed and soon drifted off to sleep. The next morning we all got up and walked back to the house, but when we looked for it, it was not there.
One cold, foggy Halloween night my friends and I were out walking around looking for other houses to trick or treat at when we came across a house, not an ordinary house but one that we had never seen before even though we had be living here for 10 years. We anxiously walked up to the door. Just as I was about to knock on the door, it swung open. Timidly we walked in and looked around I felt as if this were a dream, this house filled with cobwebs and dust. The door slammed shut; full of terror I grabbed a hold of my best friend. As she went to try to re-open the door it wouldn’t open. I was now thinking we were never going to get out of here, my friend said, “It will be alright we just have to put our minds together and get out of here”.
“Ok,” I said somewhat trying to stay calm.
We all walked close together and looked for a way out when we came across a door. We wondered whether should we go and see where it took us, or just stay here hoping to get out. We decided to take the door and when we opened it, it led to a library filled with thousand of books. We all stood gazing around at the books looking for some way to get out. Then, we saw a secret passageway. We rushed and opened the door, which led to the outside. All of us ran for our lives to the closes home, which was mine. We got inside and relaxed and soon drifted off to sleep. The next morning we all got up and walked back to the house, but when we looked for it, it was not there.
The Underwater City: Asmosis
By Gabe Valencia
I was in my flight, listening in to the speakers to see if we were there yet. While I was waiting I looked down onto the Mid - Atlantic Ocean. I can see the dim ocean that doesn’t stop and keeps going forever. Then I here screams coming from the pilot room then the next thing you know, I was in the ocean, I saw a whirling wing coming from the crash almost cutting my arm off. I finally come up to the surface gasping for air. There was burning flames all around me coming from the crash. I was starting to swim and once I was out of the burning flames I looked and giant building seeming to come from under the water. Once I first saw the building I knew I was still going to be alive, hopefully inside there will be shelter but at the same time I keep can you make a building in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean? I went inside to find out.
“I don’t know how you survived that plane crash, my name is Atlas and I aim to keep you alive”
Spelling
By Hannah Lambing
“I don’t think many humans know how to spell these days,” Marie shared with her friends on the way to the cafeteria, which was serving pot stickers, rice, and beef. Marie was a vegetarian so she normally just ate a salad and cottage cheese, which she claims, “Is healthier for you than that fatty junk.”
“Why do you say that Marie?” an open-minded Charlotte asked about her statement she had said when the four girls first met together by the math classroom.
“Because on our last vocabulary test,” Marie explained, “Everyone failed except for …” She paused for dramatic affect, “Me of course. I just don’t get it; doesn’t anyone study for their tests or quizzes?”
That question lingered within everyone’s minds, pounding inside their brains as they searched for an answer. The children pranced to the lunchroom and Marie brought her question up again, this time worded differently to see if that would click in anyone’s minds differently.
“Do you think the students in our 4th grade class, in the year 2014, study for their quizzes or tests?”
“No,” several people answered in unison. People these days didn’t think it was important to study and if they failed, well, it wasn’t such a big deal. Marie didn't get it and it bugged her so much.
“I don’t think many humans know how to spell these days,” Marie shared with her friends on the way to the cafeteria, which was serving pot stickers, rice, and beef. Marie was a vegetarian so she normally just ate a salad and cottage cheese, which she claims, “Is healthier for you than that fatty junk.”
“Why do you say that Marie?” an open-minded Charlotte asked about her statement she had said when the four girls first met together by the math classroom.
“Because on our last vocabulary test,” Marie explained, “Everyone failed except for …” She paused for dramatic affect, “Me of course. I just don’t get it; doesn’t anyone study for their tests or quizzes?”
That question lingered within everyone’s minds, pounding inside their brains as they searched for an answer. The children pranced to the lunchroom and Marie brought her question up again, this time worded differently to see if that would click in anyone’s minds differently.
“Do you think the students in our 4th grade class, in the year 2014, study for their quizzes or tests?”
“No,” several people answered in unison. People these days didn’t think it was important to study and if they failed, well, it wasn’t such a big deal. Marie didn't get it and it bugged her so much.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
The Bus Stop
By Margot Richard
I hate waiting. I hate waiting for test grades. I hate waiting for my step mom to wake up so she can actually feed me something besides cheese wiz. I hate waiting for my brother to come pick me up from school. I hate waiting for the bus, which is what I am doing right know. I look to my left, than right. And survey the warm and cozy mittens and coats that the people around me were wearing. Dang weather man, where’s that sunny afternoon you promised? As I thought this I looked at my short bright pink shorts, my tank top that said “I love my life”, and a skimpy red “Stand” jacket. The only things protecting my feet were American Eagle flip flops. Where the heck is that bus? I need to get to school, before that air head, Halle, gets my seat next to Jason.
“Well, hello!” I turned my head pretty quickly making my short black hair move into a straight up afro. Lovely.
“Hey” I dimly said, it was Edger, the nerd from my school. I usually avoided him; he usually told you some stupid fact whenever you stopped to chat with him. Like yesterday my friend, Julia, said hello to Edger. His response to this was: “Did you know that you can fit 6 tennis balls in a kangaroo’s mouth?” really he is an interesting boy.
“Did you know that......” Than my mind zoomed out knowing that it was some fact about how many mice a human could fit in an average pair of pants. “….I like you?”
I turned to him as I was still processing what he said, he kissed me. The bus came. The waiting was over.
I hate waiting. I hate waiting for test grades. I hate waiting for my step mom to wake up so she can actually feed me something besides cheese wiz. I hate waiting for my brother to come pick me up from school. I hate waiting for the bus, which is what I am doing right know. I look to my left, than right. And survey the warm and cozy mittens and coats that the people around me were wearing. Dang weather man, where’s that sunny afternoon you promised? As I thought this I looked at my short bright pink shorts, my tank top that said “I love my life”, and a skimpy red “Stand” jacket. The only things protecting my feet were American Eagle flip flops. Where the heck is that bus? I need to get to school, before that air head, Halle, gets my seat next to Jason.
“Well, hello!” I turned my head pretty quickly making my short black hair move into a straight up afro. Lovely.
“Hey” I dimly said, it was Edger, the nerd from my school. I usually avoided him; he usually told you some stupid fact whenever you stopped to chat with him. Like yesterday my friend, Julia, said hello to Edger. His response to this was: “Did you know that you can fit 6 tennis balls in a kangaroo’s mouth?” really he is an interesting boy.
“Did you know that......” Than my mind zoomed out knowing that it was some fact about how many mice a human could fit in an average pair of pants. “….I like you?”
I turned to him as I was still processing what he said, he kissed me. The bus came. The waiting was over.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Starting Over
By Maddy Price
My dark black hair was swishing in the wind as we were riding on the ship going across to America. I am from Iran where it is harsh living, my parents were killed when I was 11 and I have been living alone with my brother. Now I am eighteen and my little brother is fourteen. We are sailing to America to start our new lives and find new places, and try to forget the tragedy of our parents.
The boat speeds on, and the smell of the sweet ocean breeze trickles into my nose as my brother and I look outward on the bow of the boat. I can only speak a little bit of the language they call English, but my brother and I will learn as we go along our journey. It’s hard not speaking English, but we are on a ship filled with Iranians, but the people that work on board couldn't speak our language at all.
"All hands on deck!" yells the captain, asking us all to stand before his intimidating sight.
His white pale American skin gleamed in the sun as his dark blue eyes stared into my own.
“Young lady, will you please go make me my coffee, this is a very important job.” said the captain.
I barley understood him but I could make out “make me my coffee”.
So I tried to answer him in the best English that I could.
“ Yes sir.” I answered.
I hurried into the galley and made the cup of coffee for him, and ran back out handing him the steaming cup. He took a sip and he liked it so everyone started to cheer, I think that meant that we were going to have a good rest of the trip.
My dark black hair was swishing in the wind as we were riding on the ship going across to America. I am from Iran where it is harsh living, my parents were killed when I was 11 and I have been living alone with my brother. Now I am eighteen and my little brother is fourteen. We are sailing to America to start our new lives and find new places, and try to forget the tragedy of our parents.
The boat speeds on, and the smell of the sweet ocean breeze trickles into my nose as my brother and I look outward on the bow of the boat. I can only speak a little bit of the language they call English, but my brother and I will learn as we go along our journey. It’s hard not speaking English, but we are on a ship filled with Iranians, but the people that work on board couldn't speak our language at all.
"All hands on deck!" yells the captain, asking us all to stand before his intimidating sight.
His white pale American skin gleamed in the sun as his dark blue eyes stared into my own.
“Young lady, will you please go make me my coffee, this is a very important job.” said the captain.
I barley understood him but I could make out “make me my coffee”.
So I tried to answer him in the best English that I could.
“ Yes sir.” I answered.
I hurried into the galley and made the cup of coffee for him, and ran back out handing him the steaming cup. He took a sip and he liked it so everyone started to cheer, I think that meant that we were going to have a good rest of the trip.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The Robber
By Willy Lee
The cool breeze hit the man’s face as he looked at the luminescent light of the moon. The moon was the only thing that lit the dark silk that shrouded the city during the night. He had a black beanie slick and tight on his skin. It protected his identity and was the only thing that would keep him hidden from the others around him. His eyes open and had the look of regret. The man took one last look at his home and left. The man was fast, quick and moved without a sound. His clothes were black too to keep him concealed from the observing men who sat in their car wearing a blue uniform. To other people they were there friends and allies. But to him they were the one-soul things that stopped him from his objective. He perched himself on a tree in the park and staked out for what he was looking for. The man glanced at the lighted sign people used to attract people to spend money. To him it was a chance to get his life back. The man stood there and walked in the street with his head down as he mischievously walked in the dark alee. He could smell the potent smell of garbage next to him. It was time. There were no regrets for this man as he took out his glimmering weapon. It was cold in his bare hands. No one would understand why he was doing this. He had no other choice. He closed his eyes and prayed for success. The man took a breath and let it out. The warmth of his breath left his body and made a cloud like smoke. He walked in the bank, “Freeze!” he yelled.
The cool breeze hit the man’s face as he looked at the luminescent light of the moon. The moon was the only thing that lit the dark silk that shrouded the city during the night. He had a black beanie slick and tight on his skin. It protected his identity and was the only thing that would keep him hidden from the others around him. His eyes open and had the look of regret. The man took one last look at his home and left. The man was fast, quick and moved without a sound. His clothes were black too to keep him concealed from the observing men who sat in their car wearing a blue uniform. To other people they were there friends and allies. But to him they were the one-soul things that stopped him from his objective. He perched himself on a tree in the park and staked out for what he was looking for. The man glanced at the lighted sign people used to attract people to spend money. To him it was a chance to get his life back. The man stood there and walked in the street with his head down as he mischievously walked in the dark alee. He could smell the potent smell of garbage next to him. It was time. There were no regrets for this man as he took out his glimmering weapon. It was cold in his bare hands. No one would understand why he was doing this. He had no other choice. He closed his eyes and prayed for success. The man took a breath and let it out. The warmth of his breath left his body and made a cloud like smoke. He walked in the bank, “Freeze!” he yelled.
Freight Train
By Danny YEE
Bam! He slowly opened his eyes. Blurred colors and shapes surrounded him. He struggled to sit but his muscle failed. Had he been hit by a freight train? Joe looked around and saw the hulking giant that just slammed into him. The giant’s face seemed to say, “Welcome to college football”.
“Maybe I can’t hang with the big kids,” thought Joe disappointingly. Joe, a new freshman, had been recruited not even a year ago. He was the starting quarterback on the struggling BYU University football team and this was his first game. His teammates offered him their hands and pulled him up. Joe could feel the sting of their disappointment and disgust. Joe had not been paying attention and had gotten sacked with only two minutes left and his team behind only by three points. The next play was third and inches. Joe called out the play and hiked the football.
“Running bear! Chambers!” he called out.
He rushed to the left, faking a handoff to the fullback, then he handed off the football to the running back. He watched as the running back crossed the line for the first down. Next, he hiked the ball and drew back into the pocket. From the corner of his eye, he could see one open receiver. He quickly threw his arm back, grasped the ball a little better and started to bring his arm forward with the speed of a charging rhino. Joe released the ball just at an exact 45-degree angle. His perfect throw shot right into the hands of his intended receiver. The receiver took off like a Lamborghini speeding on the autostrada and crossed the touchdown line. The whole team started jumping up and down with excitement.
“Maybe I can hang with the big kids,” he thought ecstatically.
Bam! He slowly opened his eyes. Blurred colors and shapes surrounded him. He struggled to sit but his muscle failed. Had he been hit by a freight train? Joe looked around and saw the hulking giant that just slammed into him. The giant’s face seemed to say, “Welcome to college football”.
“Maybe I can’t hang with the big kids,” thought Joe disappointingly. Joe, a new freshman, had been recruited not even a year ago. He was the starting quarterback on the struggling BYU University football team and this was his first game. His teammates offered him their hands and pulled him up. Joe could feel the sting of their disappointment and disgust. Joe had not been paying attention and had gotten sacked with only two minutes left and his team behind only by three points. The next play was third and inches. Joe called out the play and hiked the football.
“Running bear! Chambers!” he called out.
He rushed to the left, faking a handoff to the fullback, then he handed off the football to the running back. He watched as the running back crossed the line for the first down. Next, he hiked the ball and drew back into the pocket. From the corner of his eye, he could see one open receiver. He quickly threw his arm back, grasped the ball a little better and started to bring his arm forward with the speed of a charging rhino. Joe released the ball just at an exact 45-degree angle. His perfect throw shot right into the hands of his intended receiver. The receiver took off like a Lamborghini speeding on the autostrada and crossed the touchdown line. The whole team started jumping up and down with excitement.
“Maybe I can hang with the big kids,” he thought ecstatically.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
The Math Test
By Yasi Agah
Slowly I hobbled into the classroom. Sweat streaming down my face. Oh no Math Test. This test was going to count as 80% of our grade! And if I didn't do well…my mom would make me transfer to some horrible school in the middle of the desert. Okay not the desert but it was in the middle of nowhere! I got all my binders and books together and sat in an organized manner. I had to impress the teacher.
"Alright class, everyone take everything off your desk except for a pencil. Once you get the test you cannot talk. If you talk you will get 20 points marked off. This is a 100-point quiz. Good luck."
The teacher slowly took a sheet of paper and slammed it on a student's desk. I hoped she would forget I was there and miss me. But she didn't miss me. The first problem was by far the hardest. I didn't know any of this! I rushed through it and got up and handed it to the teacher. That's it. I know I failed. I just knew it.
Two weeks later I walked into math and saw on the board, 'Tests will be returned today.' I completely freaked out. I aced all my other classes but math…that was my struggling class in the 9th grade. I sat in my desk and waited for the teacher to hand me back a piece of paper that had millions of red marks. She slowly got up and ambled to my desk. She gave me my test and walked over to the next desk and handed that child the paper. Oh my gosh.
A tear of joy ran down my cheek. How was I going to tell my mom I got 97%?
Slowly I hobbled into the classroom. Sweat streaming down my face. Oh no Math Test. This test was going to count as 80% of our grade! And if I didn't do well…my mom would make me transfer to some horrible school in the middle of the desert. Okay not the desert but it was in the middle of nowhere! I got all my binders and books together and sat in an organized manner. I had to impress the teacher.
"Alright class, everyone take everything off your desk except for a pencil. Once you get the test you cannot talk. If you talk you will get 20 points marked off. This is a 100-point quiz. Good luck."
The teacher slowly took a sheet of paper and slammed it on a student's desk. I hoped she would forget I was there and miss me. But she didn't miss me. The first problem was by far the hardest. I didn't know any of this! I rushed through it and got up and handed it to the teacher. That's it. I know I failed. I just knew it.
Two weeks later I walked into math and saw on the board, 'Tests will be returned today.' I completely freaked out. I aced all my other classes but math…that was my struggling class in the 9th grade. I sat in my desk and waited for the teacher to hand me back a piece of paper that had millions of red marks. She slowly got up and ambled to my desk. She gave me my test and walked over to the next desk and handed that child the paper. Oh my gosh.
A tear of joy ran down my cheek. How was I going to tell my mom I got 97%?
Frightened to Death
By Alex Bambos
I lie in bed, still awake, thinking about what might put me to sleep. I count sheep, think of the day ahead, and try to make up a dream, but nothing, nothing works. As I lie awake, desperately trying to think of something, I hear it: the noise that changed my life forever. It is the creaking of a floorboard, but this one is most unlike anything that I have ever heard. It does not sound like a floorboard creaking, but more like a floorboard being cracked. None of that matters to me now, as I lie awake in bed, trying to reassure myself that it is only a floorboard, nothing scary. I close my eyes and try to think of something, anything, other than the floorboards. Just as I get that happy dream that puts every child to sleep, I hear another noise. It is the sound of running water. “Be calm,” I tell myself. “Everything will be all right.” Just then, the water shuts off, leaving me as scared as ever. I want to scream, to pile my furniture against the door, to turn my bed sheet into a rope and lower myself out of the window. I am paralyzed however, because of fear. I hear a sound, a growl, like that of a bear, protective of her cubs. I grab my flashlight and my Nerf gun, and aim both at the door. Now, I hear footsteps, closer than ever. My brain is racing faster than it ever has, and ever will, I think of what it could be. A burglar? An assassin? Or even a monster? The door slowly creeks open. I grab my flashlight; aim it and my Nerf gun at the door, and fire…
I lie in bed, still awake, thinking about what might put me to sleep. I count sheep, think of the day ahead, and try to make up a dream, but nothing, nothing works. As I lie awake, desperately trying to think of something, I hear it: the noise that changed my life forever. It is the creaking of a floorboard, but this one is most unlike anything that I have ever heard. It does not sound like a floorboard creaking, but more like a floorboard being cracked. None of that matters to me now, as I lie awake in bed, trying to reassure myself that it is only a floorboard, nothing scary. I close my eyes and try to think of something, anything, other than the floorboards. Just as I get that happy dream that puts every child to sleep, I hear another noise. It is the sound of running water. “Be calm,” I tell myself. “Everything will be all right.” Just then, the water shuts off, leaving me as scared as ever. I want to scream, to pile my furniture against the door, to turn my bed sheet into a rope and lower myself out of the window. I am paralyzed however, because of fear. I hear a sound, a growl, like that of a bear, protective of her cubs. I grab my flashlight and my Nerf gun, and aim both at the door. Now, I hear footsteps, closer than ever. My brain is racing faster than it ever has, and ever will, I think of what it could be. A burglar? An assassin? Or even a monster? The door slowly creeks open. I grab my flashlight; aim it and my Nerf gun at the door, and fire…
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Alex
By Henry Walker
Hi my name is Alex and I play baseball. I graduated from Belmont High School in California back in 1992. I was 18 years old when I graduated. I played baseball for all four years in high school, and I entered the 1992 Major League draft. The Cincinnati Reds drafted me in the 1st round 18th pick, and as I walked up to that stage I couldn’t get any happier. I had a smile on my face that wouldn’t go away I was stunned. As Bud Selig called my name I was astonished. It was Bud’s First year and I couldn’t be more proud.
Two weeks later after having a smile on my face for the whole time and people knowing my name everywhere I went, I learned that professional baseball isn’t all fun and games. The Reds sent me down to AAA so I could gain some experience; you know you have to start somewhere right? So they sent me to there Minors team, the Louisville Bats. I have been in the Minors for three years now, just the same old news. I play shortstop for the Bats and I start every game. I have no errors on the year so far and my batting average is .356. I really want a shot at the big leagues; I want to prove that I can play up there.
My phone rang; beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. I answered the phone. A deep voice called my name.
“Hey Alex, were bringing you up to the big leagues.
Immediately I knew who it was it was Mr. Baker, the manager for the Reds and one of the most famous names in baseball. “Mr. Baker, thank you, I won’t let you down. I hung up the phone. “I have finally made it.”
Hi my name is Alex and I play baseball. I graduated from Belmont High School in California back in 1992. I was 18 years old when I graduated. I played baseball for all four years in high school, and I entered the 1992 Major League draft. The Cincinnati Reds drafted me in the 1st round 18th pick, and as I walked up to that stage I couldn’t get any happier. I had a smile on my face that wouldn’t go away I was stunned. As Bud Selig called my name I was astonished. It was Bud’s First year and I couldn’t be more proud.
Two weeks later after having a smile on my face for the whole time and people knowing my name everywhere I went, I learned that professional baseball isn’t all fun and games. The Reds sent me down to AAA so I could gain some experience; you know you have to start somewhere right? So they sent me to there Minors team, the Louisville Bats. I have been in the Minors for three years now, just the same old news. I play shortstop for the Bats and I start every game. I have no errors on the year so far and my batting average is .356. I really want a shot at the big leagues; I want to prove that I can play up there.
My phone rang; beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. I answered the phone. A deep voice called my name.
“Hey Alex, were bringing you up to the big leagues.
Immediately I knew who it was it was Mr. Baker, the manager for the Reds and one of the most famous names in baseball. “Mr. Baker, thank you, I won’t let you down. I hung up the phone. “I have finally made it.”
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Reinforcements at Stalingrad
By Efe Sarinalbant
Private Vasili Koslov sat at the back of the jeep wondering that each and every step he would make on the battlefield would make the difference between life and death. He examined his gun. It was a grey colored Tompson with a few scratches on it. He felt the smoothness on its exterior. He closed his eyes and just imagined home. He saw his mom making his favorite dish, apple pie. He could almost taste the crispy, outer crust. Suddenly a loud, echoing gunshot interrupted his fantasy. He saw the comrade to his right fall on to the ground as if he lost control of his whole body. The jeep swerved on the muddy ground and feel to its side. Private Koslov thought it was all over.
When he came to he saw himself behind a group of men. He couldn’t tell who they were. He squinted his eyes, trying to make the small symbol on their uniform. He saw an “X” like shape. It was bright red with a black and white design on it. They were Nazis! Private Koslov almost choked. He covered his mouth to make no sound. He tried to relax and played dead. Leaning his head towards his right, he saw the Tompson he had in his hands earlier. It was about two meters away from his hand. He could feel the heavy grasp of it in his hand. He glanced back at the soldiers. They were concentrated on something else. He silently and slowly got up. He tiptoed toward the handsome machine gun. He picked it up and opened the cartridge. He saw that there was a whole round of bullets. He closed the cartridge up and aimed at one of the soldiers heads. Trembling he said
“God forgive me.” and pulled the trigger.
Private Vasili Koslov sat at the back of the jeep wondering that each and every step he would make on the battlefield would make the difference between life and death. He examined his gun. It was a grey colored Tompson with a few scratches on it. He felt the smoothness on its exterior. He closed his eyes and just imagined home. He saw his mom making his favorite dish, apple pie. He could almost taste the crispy, outer crust. Suddenly a loud, echoing gunshot interrupted his fantasy. He saw the comrade to his right fall on to the ground as if he lost control of his whole body. The jeep swerved on the muddy ground and feel to its side. Private Koslov thought it was all over.
When he came to he saw himself behind a group of men. He couldn’t tell who they were. He squinted his eyes, trying to make the small symbol on their uniform. He saw an “X” like shape. It was bright red with a black and white design on it. They were Nazis! Private Koslov almost choked. He covered his mouth to make no sound. He tried to relax and played dead. Leaning his head towards his right, he saw the Tompson he had in his hands earlier. It was about two meters away from his hand. He could feel the heavy grasp of it in his hand. He glanced back at the soldiers. They were concentrated on something else. He silently and slowly got up. He tiptoed toward the handsome machine gun. He picked it up and opened the cartridge. He saw that there was a whole round of bullets. He closed the cartridge up and aimed at one of the soldiers heads. Trembling he said
“God forgive me.” and pulled the trigger.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Addiction
By Kate Huneke
Dylan slowly reached for his first chocolate cupcake. The smell enticed him nearer and nearer to the crumbly cupcake. He was a starving wolf, searching for a fulfilling animal, and the cupcake was his prey. He snatched the delicious flavor up into his skinny hands, and dived nose-first into the cupcake. Once he had finished after his two bites, his face was covered in icing. He took his index finger and swiped it across the places where the icing had landed, cheerily devouring it off of his finger.
He heard a knock at the large wooden double-doors. Dylan took his stash of Hershey bars, chocolate kisses, truffles, and every other sort of chocolate substance you could imagine, and stuffed it into his bedside tables’ pull out drawer. Without calling for permission, a thin and frail woman entered his room. She was wearing an ugly green pea coat, unmatched with ironed black slacks. Without a single word, she came across the brown woven carpet, leaned across his duvet covers, and wiped something off of Dylan’s face. She held up her dirty thumb and raised her eyebrows, “We’re concerned about you, Mr. Saffry. Your addiction is getting stronger.” She pulled open his tables’ drawer, to find a massive amount of chocolate. Her eyes widened with surprise.
“There is nothing more the school nurse can supply you with, Mr. Saffry. I will be appointing the school’s pyschiatrist, Ms. Quil, to help stop this dangerous attraction between you and chocolate!” she spat angrily, each word raised a pitch higher.
So Dylan went. He visited Ms. Quil every day a week, for twenty-eight weeks. His addiction to chocolate had gradually slowed down, and now he hardly ever ate it.
He thought about his past while laid he in bed and sucked on his twentieth lollipop.
Dylan slowly reached for his first chocolate cupcake. The smell enticed him nearer and nearer to the crumbly cupcake. He was a starving wolf, searching for a fulfilling animal, and the cupcake was his prey. He snatched the delicious flavor up into his skinny hands, and dived nose-first into the cupcake. Once he had finished after his two bites, his face was covered in icing. He took his index finger and swiped it across the places where the icing had landed, cheerily devouring it off of his finger.
He heard a knock at the large wooden double-doors. Dylan took his stash of Hershey bars, chocolate kisses, truffles, and every other sort of chocolate substance you could imagine, and stuffed it into his bedside tables’ pull out drawer. Without calling for permission, a thin and frail woman entered his room. She was wearing an ugly green pea coat, unmatched with ironed black slacks. Without a single word, she came across the brown woven carpet, leaned across his duvet covers, and wiped something off of Dylan’s face. She held up her dirty thumb and raised her eyebrows, “We’re concerned about you, Mr. Saffry. Your addiction is getting stronger.” She pulled open his tables’ drawer, to find a massive amount of chocolate. Her eyes widened with surprise.
“There is nothing more the school nurse can supply you with, Mr. Saffry. I will be appointing the school’s pyschiatrist, Ms. Quil, to help stop this dangerous attraction between you and chocolate!” she spat angrily, each word raised a pitch higher.
So Dylan went. He visited Ms. Quil every day a week, for twenty-eight weeks. His addiction to chocolate had gradually slowed down, and now he hardly ever ate it.
He thought about his past while laid he in bed and sucked on his twentieth lollipop.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The Girl
By Colin Johnson
I sat and watched the two of them play ping-pong. I wanted to join them but they obviously were trying to ignore me. She looked at me, and I looked back at her. I knew I would have my chance but that annoying boy who followed her everywhere hated me. He was 14, I was 12, and she was 16. All my friends liked her to. Her eyes glimmered in the sun, her hair flew in the wind, and her voice was as soft as rabbits fur. I couldn’t help but follow her in every activity we did at camp. If she did tennis, I did tennis. All of my friends came too. One day at kickball, everything changed.
Fifteen minutes into the game, I noticed that she happened to be there. Luckily, I was on her team. I played shortstop and she played third base. After three innings it was my time to shine. Although the same boy that followed her around was there, he went to get water and she was sitting on the lawn alone. I walked over to her, sat down, and awkwardly thought of a word that could spark a conversation. My friends didn’t help by laughing and pointing. So I sat there, for about one minute and then it came. She started the conversation first by saying, “How have you been?”
Bursting out of my skin I replied, “Good.”
“So I heard you and your friends like me,” she said silently laughing.
“Uhhhhhhh kinda,” I stuttered in embarrassment, “Just as a friend though.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Yeah, that would be weird,” I said.
“Not really,” she said.
Surprised, I slowly said, “I have to go!”
“Alright, bye,” she said smiling and waving goodbye.
Out of all the girls at the camp, she was the one.
I sat and watched the two of them play ping-pong. I wanted to join them but they obviously were trying to ignore me. She looked at me, and I looked back at her. I knew I would have my chance but that annoying boy who followed her everywhere hated me. He was 14, I was 12, and she was 16. All my friends liked her to. Her eyes glimmered in the sun, her hair flew in the wind, and her voice was as soft as rabbits fur. I couldn’t help but follow her in every activity we did at camp. If she did tennis, I did tennis. All of my friends came too. One day at kickball, everything changed.
Fifteen minutes into the game, I noticed that she happened to be there. Luckily, I was on her team. I played shortstop and she played third base. After three innings it was my time to shine. Although the same boy that followed her around was there, he went to get water and she was sitting on the lawn alone. I walked over to her, sat down, and awkwardly thought of a word that could spark a conversation. My friends didn’t help by laughing and pointing. So I sat there, for about one minute and then it came. She started the conversation first by saying, “How have you been?”
Bursting out of my skin I replied, “Good.”
“So I heard you and your friends like me,” she said silently laughing.
“Uhhhhhhh kinda,” I stuttered in embarrassment, “Just as a friend though.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Yeah, that would be weird,” I said.
“Not really,” she said.
Surprised, I slowly said, “I have to go!”
“Alright, bye,” she said smiling and waving goodbye.
Out of all the girls at the camp, she was the one.
Incredible Ride
By Wyatt Driscoll
I just strapped in to the scariest ride at Great America, Invertigo. Butterflies were flying around my stomach. I was so dizzy before the ride even started. I was only seven but all my friends made me do it. Then they all ditched me and wouldn’t go on the ride. I waited in line for an hour, watching people throw up while they were on the ride and well they were getting off. It did scare me, but there was no turning back now, I had already strapped myself in. I watched as the yellow pieces of steel flew through the air, twisting and jerking the people’s helpless heads.
Then the death ride started. It jerked me around as it spun upward and then it felt like it almost selflessly fell and kept falling, twisting and turning in a downward spiral, much like how an airplane does when it’s crashing. Out of nowhere it jerked back upward and felt like I almost fell out. Then I looked down and saw that one of my straps had broken. Now it wasn’t a fight to just get through the ride, it was a fight to stay alive.
I started shouting,”Stop the ride!” In utter panic I kept shouting. Those were the longest two minutes of my life. It felt like I was on that ride forever. It went upside down three times as I tried to hang on, not trying to fall the one hundred feet from the top of the ride to the ground. Then it stopped and slowly pulled into the exit area. It was over and I trotted back to my friends to tell them all the details of the ride. That ride really symbolized the rest of my life: rollercoaster ride that just seemed would never stop.
I just strapped in to the scariest ride at Great America, Invertigo. Butterflies were flying around my stomach. I was so dizzy before the ride even started. I was only seven but all my friends made me do it. Then they all ditched me and wouldn’t go on the ride. I waited in line for an hour, watching people throw up while they were on the ride and well they were getting off. It did scare me, but there was no turning back now, I had already strapped myself in. I watched as the yellow pieces of steel flew through the air, twisting and jerking the people’s helpless heads.
Then the death ride started. It jerked me around as it spun upward and then it felt like it almost selflessly fell and kept falling, twisting and turning in a downward spiral, much like how an airplane does when it’s crashing. Out of nowhere it jerked back upward and felt like I almost fell out. Then I looked down and saw that one of my straps had broken. Now it wasn’t a fight to just get through the ride, it was a fight to stay alive.
I started shouting,”Stop the ride!” In utter panic I kept shouting. Those were the longest two minutes of my life. It felt like I was on that ride forever. It went upside down three times as I tried to hang on, not trying to fall the one hundred feet from the top of the ride to the ground. Then it stopped and slowly pulled into the exit area. It was over and I trotted back to my friends to tell them all the details of the ride. That ride really symbolized the rest of my life: rollercoaster ride that just seemed would never stop.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Sixteen Minutes
By Mr. Silverson
Grady spent every single morning of the twenty-second year of his life taking sixteen minutes to complete his “8 Minute Abs” and “8 Minute Buns” videotapes back-to-back without a break. As he began his sit-ups every morning, his heart still racing from the surprise of the alarm clock, the odd details of the night’s dreams would linger in his memory: a dog that could talk, a witch, the back of an old girlfriend’s head, whatever it was, it would be gone by the time Grady had moved on to bicycle crunches.
Except one, which came in the third month.
He lies on an operating table, his body frozen with anesthesia. A doctor appears in his view, with a surgeon’s mask and a great explosion of Bozo red hair and injects him with a clear solution into his stomach and buttocks. With his eyes only, as his neck is stiff, he tries to look down at his torso. There is something growing beneath the skin, moving.
In his waking life, Grady’s body was changing as well. Bulges of muscle began to appear through the flab of his gut and his rear end looked fantastic. And he kept dreaming the dream, the colors vivid in his mind as fresh paint as he lunged in time and sweated during the dark mornings.
“Foolish,” he thought to himself as he prodded suspiciously into his abdomen while waiting for his bread to toast. “Foolish,” he thought again later, poking his new butt muscles while in line at the supermarket. The next day it took him an hour to work up the courage to insert the videotape into the VCR.
On the morning of his twenty-third birthday, Grady woke up, devoured a piece of chocolate cake and never worked out again.
Grady spent every single morning of the twenty-second year of his life taking sixteen minutes to complete his “8 Minute Abs” and “8 Minute Buns” videotapes back-to-back without a break. As he began his sit-ups every morning, his heart still racing from the surprise of the alarm clock, the odd details of the night’s dreams would linger in his memory: a dog that could talk, a witch, the back of an old girlfriend’s head, whatever it was, it would be gone by the time Grady had moved on to bicycle crunches.
Except one, which came in the third month.
He lies on an operating table, his body frozen with anesthesia. A doctor appears in his view, with a surgeon’s mask and a great explosion of Bozo red hair and injects him with a clear solution into his stomach and buttocks. With his eyes only, as his neck is stiff, he tries to look down at his torso. There is something growing beneath the skin, moving.
In his waking life, Grady’s body was changing as well. Bulges of muscle began to appear through the flab of his gut and his rear end looked fantastic. And he kept dreaming the dream, the colors vivid in his mind as fresh paint as he lunged in time and sweated during the dark mornings.
“Foolish,” he thought to himself as he prodded suspiciously into his abdomen while waiting for his bread to toast. “Foolish,” he thought again later, poking his new butt muscles while in line at the supermarket. The next day it took him an hour to work up the courage to insert the videotape into the VCR.
On the morning of his twenty-third birthday, Grady woke up, devoured a piece of chocolate cake and never worked out again.
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