Forest Fire

artwork by Anastasia E.
Grade 8

Forest Fire

As the grey columns of smoke consume the barren sky,

After the smoldering ruin clears,

While the frigid breath of night dissipates,

Before the last of the light dims,

I watch the resplendent flame dance gracefully along the thicket.

  

As the sweet embrace of the flame intensifies,

While the conflagration extends its reach toward the stars,

Before the essence of all life is consumed in the crimson inferno,

The fear passes and all that remains is gratitude.

I gaze into the torrid blaze, felling even the most formidable tree.

by Jeffrey S.

Grade 8

artwork by Julia D.
Grade 8

Another 9/11

In this piece, a seventh-grade student imagines a nightmarish repeat of the events of September 11, 2001.  This is our first piece published in 2015 that is set in the future.

Another 9/11

SEPTEMBER 10, 2020

Its 3:30 P.M. and the bell rings.

"Congratulations to the special winner of my red, white, and blue Luncheon," says Mrs. Claremont. "Tomorrow, you and three friends get to have lunch with me in the teachers lounge."

             I turn to my best friend Jess, who sits across the room, and roll my eyes. What student would want to have a special luncheon with Mrs. Claremont?

"Haven Daniels! Do not roll your eyes! This lucky winner won this luncheon because they looked the most patriotic."

I guess she saw me. Oops.

Mrs. Claremont continues, "They looked the most patriotic by wearing red, white, and blue in honor of September 11^th! " Mrs. Claremont exclaims. "Class dismissed."

10 MINUTES LATER

Jess and I meet in the run down parking lot of our high school, Los Angeles Smith Mount High. We get into her old, junky Volvo. Gross. It smells like In 'n Out Burger.

"What do you want to do now?" Jess asks me, "We finished all of our homework in study hall. There's nothing left for us to do."

I think about what we should do.  I loved the last time we went downtown. Maybe we should go again? I answer her as soon I as I finish my thought.

"Lets go downtown!" I shout excitedly, "We can grab something to eat and update our closets in the process, so it all works out."

              Jess answers me. "Sure," she says, "buckle up!"

35 MINUTES LATER

"Wake up," Jess says, "We have arrived at our destination."

She giggles at her own joke. I guess I was so tired I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and untangle myself from the torn up seatbelt. Jess is parked in front of the Smith Mount Shopping Center. I suggest that we should limit our locations to these: Aeropostale, American Eagle, Converse Factory Outlet, and Starbucks.

"I don’t think we should go to all of the stores," Jess remarks.

Why does she always have to be such a bore? She opens and closes her mouth a couple times like she wants to say something. She finally does.

"You know what, let's do it!" Jess shouts.

2 HOURS LATER

Just as we are about to step out of Starbucks, we feel a deep, violent rumble. Then I hear a big explosion and screams.

            "What was that?" I ask Jess inquisitively.

"Probably just some technical difficulty at the construction site across the street," she replies, "Probably scared some people."

That didn't really sound like technical difficulties. Right then, a man comes bolting past Jess as fast as a gazelle, bumping into her and making her spill her Starbucks drink. I realize he had a frightened look on his face. Maybe something really is going on.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Jess shouts after the man.

I try to get Jess to keep walking but she refuses.

"Aww man, look what he did," Jess whines, "He made me spill my drink my new sweater!"

I don’t really see the big deal. She can just wash it when she gets home. All of a sudden I hear a low whine that gets louder and louder by the second. Then, something strikes the side of the building with a boom. There is another great explosion and a big blast of scalding heat. It is so hot; it singes all the hair off my arms. I search through screaming crowd for Jess.It sends me and my bags of clothing flying backwards. I hit my head on the hard marble with a smack. I struggle to stand myself up so I can run to Jess. All I can hear are screams drowning out more and more screams.

I see Jess get hit in the stomach with a sharp piece of debris. "Jess!" I scream. I sprint in her direction. As I am running I hear a crack coming from above my head. I stop running and look up just in time to see a small piece of debris falling from the roof. I am hit in the back of my head from the debris and I fall to the ground. Then everything goes black.

 1 HOUR LATER

I wake up, and I am in the back of an ambulance. What's going on? I can't see at the moment; everything is so blurry. All I can hear are the sounds of sirens. I suddenly remember everything so quickly; it makes my head hurt. Wait! Where's Jess?!

"Jess!" I exclaim out loud.

"Who's Jess?" the EMT  questions.

"My best friend! She was in there with me!"

            He replies in a worried tone, "What does she look like?"

            Where is Jess? I could never live my life without her.

"She is 5'6", has straight dark brown hair, and has brown eyes."

             The EMT nods and starts talking into his radio asking if anyone had seen her.

I quickly add, "She was wearing a white sweater from American Eagle."

             He nods again and repeats what I said into his radio. I can't hear what the response is, but I know by the EMT's expression it must not be good. My stomach drops. He tells me what he heard.

"We found her before you, and she was in critical condition."

           I start to feel tears. Please, oh, please make the rest of this good news.

"She had a shard of glass stuck deep in her stomach. She was already bleeding a lot and we knew that if we took it out she would die of blood loss."

            Please let her be all right. The EMT continues.

"We took at chance at removing it, but we lost her. I'm so sorry."

I just lie there. I don’t move. I don't accept his apology. I don’t even blink. I feel like my lungs have run out of air, but I'm still breathing. I just start to cry. So many tears pour out of my eyes; it is like a flood. I cry and cry; I cry so hard that everything goes black again.

THE NEXT DAY

I wake up the next day with the bright sun shining in my face. I try to move my arms to fix my bed head, but excruciating pain shoots through my whole body.  I have an ice pack on the table next to me. Hurray! The ice pack has saved the day! I reach to grab it. The pain to get the ice is worth the relief. My heart is heavy from the loss of my best friend, but I will survive. She would want me to live my life with or without her.

I turn my head to the television to notice that the news is covering last nights events. I reach over to grab the remote.  I grimace as the pain shoots up my shoulder and to my fingertips. The news reporter gets louder as I turn up the volume.

"Many highly populated areas were fired upon last night," the reporter states, "Smith Mount Shopping Center was struck the hardest and had the most injuries and fatalities."

            Who is doing this? As the news reporter continues she answers my question.

"The terrorist group ISIS were the ones committing these acts of terror. Many people thought that they would attack years ago, but they have selected the anniversary of the last September 11th to do so."

I guess I was always prepared for the idea of hearing of another terrorist attack. I just never thought that I would be the one experiencing it. There should be no terrorist attacks though. This is America in 2020! We should feel safe and secure. Surely they can stop this group before another 9/11.

 by Trinity E.

Grade 7



artwork by Christian R.
Grade 7

A Fish Out of Water

This month we bring you an infographic, created by one of our ninth grade students, that examines what some of the best YA novels all have in common, and a memoir with a title that works on more than one level.  Enjoy!



by Ashley W.
Grade 9



A Fish Out of Water

The silent ripples of the water slowly decelerated, gaining more distance between the miniature waves. A flash of light, a projectile, a splash. A menacing metal hook enters the dark waters. Shadows dart away against the green atmosphere of the murky water. A glimmering line remains taut on the stern fishing rod. A small band of boys walk around the round pond, surrounded by the concrete divider. Solemn faces of fishermen wait patiently, staring with slim eyes, filled to the brim with expectation.  

We carry a grimy, white bucket around along with a tackle box that has a vibrant red lid. Each of us three boys carries our own fishing rod, taking quick glances at the water searching for our next catch. The experience was new to me, a novice in this field, but to my cousins--Kyle and Josh--it was a child's game. We perch ourselves around a large plant that cantilevered itself over the water, casting a dark shadow. 

 Kyle's eyes examined the dark area intently, "See over there," he pointed, leaning closer to the water. "There are some good-sized bait fish in this area." 

He turned to Josh and I, and we stepped to the white bucket to find the Styrofoam white package bound with a rubber band. We opened it up and revealed to the light the squirming, glistening worms, weaving themselves through the thick dirt.  

"Here's how you really secure these worms on tightly," Josh stated. He took the worm and in one fluid and quick motion, was able to pin it securely on the hook in an overlapping ball. 

I tried it myself and ended up with a sloppier, looser version of his example, but nonetheless it would suffice. Josh and I trailed our lines in the water.  Our eyes sometimes spotted a pack of these small sunfish at one end or the other. We recognized the rippling water, moving silhouettes, overshadowed by the shady patch covering the water. The words, "Come on, over here," and, "Closer...Closer..." were muttered at these fish in spite of the fact that we knew they couldn’t hear us. The occasional thief would quickly strike at our bait, sending a jolt through the rod that transferred into a shock of excitement. The hooks would then surface along with the hope that we could salvage some of our precious bait, even though most times we were left disappointed.  

"WHOAAAAHHHH!" Josh's diminutive voice exclaimed, gathering the attention of the other silent fishermen. He picked up his line to reveal his prize. His golden trophy was a small yellow fish with a stern look and a determined demeanor. It wiggled and tried to free itself from the bond of his hand, but all to no avail. The white bucket was emptied and replaced with a scoop of murky green water. The prize was dropped in and occasionally admired by us.  

"Now we can direct our attention to the Largemouth Bass," Kyle announced to us with pride. Kyle carefully hooked the fish onto his line, making the catch, the bait.  

"Will and I are gonna catch more bait fish over here," said Josh, who beckoned me over to him. We continued to bait for the small yet sly little dwellers. We would wait and see a ripple, feel a tug, and lift a soaking wet line covered in watery plants and disappointment. Kyle kept his distance from the underdeveloped parts of the area, all the way to the side  that faced the grassy cemetery. There he knew he would find the mature bass that preyed on the small sunfish on the other side of the pond-- a secret of the area. 

Several small catching escapades passed, the clear wind blew and a silence fell upon the pond. A small family mourned over a snapped line on a legendary sized bass. We had a small collection of bait fish accumulating, curious glances given as they swam in their tight quarters.  

Kyle methodically used one of these fish and placed it on my line. Rather than the stereotypical whip of the fishing rod to send it soaring, I released him back into his home with a simple drop. The small being took a speck amount of time to reacquaint himself with his natural pond habitat. Shadows lurked and traveled with the elastic waves of the water above. The confused creature presented his acceptance to this newfound habitat by travelling hither and thither, but then quickly turning back as if the water had gotten harshly cold. It seemed to repeat this process in every direction, until I coaxed it along by taking careful steps near the ledge of the pond, showing it new areas at its own pace, like a dog on a leash. 

"Hey, stop there!" Kyle commanded in a lighthearted but forceful attitude. 

"What's wrong?" I asked naively. I observed Josh walking fervently down towards us. 

"Look at the fish. It is afraid of something, notice its nervous and jittery attitude." I looked and saw the feverishly squirming nature of the small creature. 

"Yeah, it's definitely being followed by something," Josh added. I knew a large bass was somewhere in the vicinity. Either that or a formidable snapping turtle that patrolled these waters, one with which I had encountered last time I fished here. I assumed it was more likely the former bass.

Splash! From the water arose a green creature, contrasting against the deep blue water, which revealed the beast in all its predatory honor. It was my turn to be the predator. The tension on the rod increased, the top curved down as if to point to the beast that pulled it. 

I handed the line to Kyle, who was able to guide the aggressive challenger to a better spot. He handed the rod back to me with an encouraging nod. I would systematically switch between intensely pulling  my line and drawing it in with a furious turning of the reel. It occasionally leapt out of the water, showing its glorified black stripe on its green, scaly body.  

After a large amount of turns taken behind the fishing rod, the pressure was back on me. The fish had fought strenuously. Josh had his net at the ready. The silent beast gradually drew closer towards me and I could tell it was losing momentum. A furious amount of reeling and pulling was able to produce a mountainous splash and a green, flailing being. As the net was placed under the fish in mid-leap, the distressed bass's capture became inevitable. 

The wide jaw of the fish acted as a grip for my hand. The sandpapery abrasion that I assumed were his teeth wore down the skin on my fingers. I felt the slippery belly and used it to support his other side. The typical post-fish-catch ritual started, a measurement of the fish, a picture, and an inspection for clues about its previous activities. Initially, I would have never guessed that I would have caught a twenty-seven inch bass, let alone a catch at all.
"A twenty-seven inch bass at Redd's Pond, that’s one of the biggest!" Josh shouted in his seemingly bewildered tone. 

"Is this the biggest you've caught?" I inquired. 

"Probably on the better end of what we've caught here," Kyle replied in his knowing tone.

         The fish's eyes gleamed, and we soon released it with a single graceful throw. We caught two others, but none seemed to hold a dime to the esteemed fish that was initially caught. We returned home with an air of pride and a bounce in our step, the kind when the payoff is as rewarding as the cost of the hard work. To Kyle and Josh, it may have been good for the given location, but for me it was mountains beyond what I could have ever expected. I would return ready for whatever the pond gave me, expecting its next biggest challenge. I was never faced with a more formidable challenge than at Redd's pond, but the world is an ocean of possibility. I was unaware on the day of my triumph that when I lifted my line and saw the fish's dark empty eyes, that I had surfaced a fish, a record, and a tradition.

by Will F.

Grade 9

Stallions of Zeus

artwork by Evelyn H.
Grade 8

Stallions of Zeus

While a bitter wind moaned,

Whose keening pleas rose above,

Until engulfed by screeches of mercy,

So that the branches shivered with fright;

Brooding clouds hung imminent in the charcoal sky.

How suddenly it struck,

As a fork of light speared,

Splitting the sky in pieces,

While it crackled with electricity,

The air fizzed with static.

When a thousand drums beat,

So that the cacophony deafened all,

After it trampled the ground,

As if stallions galloped throughout,

They crushed everything under vicious hooves.

While the chaos raged on,

After all Cain broke loose,

So that the pandemonium sailed the tumult,

When lightening flashed and wind howled,

Thunder growled in its cave of storm clouds.

When suddenly it was gone,

So that the silence hung in the air,

As if the stallions dashed off,

Until no more of them were heard,

And the wind, neighing in terror, was quenched like a candle.

Vita M.
Grade 8