Entries 2019


Rylie VENTO – If Each Day Was A Person – was in 4th grade at Temple Beth Am .
Teacher: Jaime Williams. 

Excerpt from the story
Dear People of the World,

It’s Monday here, and you might be thinking that I am actually a day of the week,  but I am a real person. I have been watching people for years now, and I still don’t  understand how people complain about me. I mean, I’m not the person who came up with  the “genius” idea for everyone to wake up in the morning and drag their lifeless bodies  to school and work everyday…..

Dear lovely humans,

Its me Tuesday! Isn’t it such a wonderful day today?! I woke up bright and early to the chorus of birds chirping and the sun peaking through my window to say good morning. In that moment, I knew I was ready to take on the world and excited to start a brand new day!……

Why hello there my best friends!

Wednesday here, and I have SO MANY QUESTIONS to ask  you. Actually, maybe I should start by telling you guys about my  week instead, since it has been so long! I heard some SERIOUS  gossip because I ran into Monday, and she told me that people  have given me the nickname “Hump Day”……

Isabella ZIARNO – A Boy Amongst Marching Men – was in 8th grade at Air Base K-8 Center for International Education. 

Excerpt from the story
…….. Somewhere in a place not too far from our own, there was a boy who was always
moving. To say he was an extrovert would be a dramatic understatement. He was a spawn of
pure energy, his mind racing faster than his lips could move. Granted, all children are bundles of energy, with their vivacious personalities that never seem to take a break. But this boy
preferred to tackle the world on his hands and knees, perpetually needing some sort of
stimulation for his wits. Though this boy had climbed trees higher than you could imagine in
places that are far beyond what our minds could comprehend, his view from such heights never
gave him a perfect view of the world below. He heard muffled voices and saw smudges of
silhouettes that had never been quite identified. As much as he strained his young eyes to see
what was around him, the blurry shapes never seemed to clear up. At home, he was just as
rambunctious as he was when he was scouring the yard for the best makeshift sword with his
invisible companions. However, his character was stunted whenever he walked into his home.
His words and creativity were constantly shot down with whips and slaps that would ring in his ears for days. His constant questioning of the world left him with marks and bruises that riddled his body and always seemed to swim back to the surface just as they seemed to drown………

Nathaniel GORDON – The Room Outside Reality – was in 10th grade at MAST Academy.
Teacher: Otto Zequeira.

Excerpt from the story
…….. The four white walls of her New York City studio apartment’s windowless bedroom had become a hauntingly familiar sight for Iris. Each crack within its concrete, the grooves and indentations
that lined every inch of the wall, had become a vision so closely etched within her mind that she
could close her eyes and it would still be the same, ever so still. Iris occasionally wished the domain within those walls would transform into something greater than a cold, industrial
apartment, but reality could only outstretch its hands so far no matter how much she willed it
otherwise. Nevertheless, Iris refused to leave. She could work from home quite comfortably, and there was no need for her to go out of her way for groceries, since her father would always buy them for her and drop them off every Friday night along with the mail while she was asleep. Iris was truly alone, and she gradually learned to like it that way. For nine years, Iris had chosen to live within those familiar four walls, and for nine years, Iris had not seen a single soul beyond her own front door.

But something about that day in particular did not sit well with her. Iris leapt out of her bed
unusually alert, each step she took on the creaky wooden floor undulating against her skull like a broken metronome. Rather than secure, she felt suffocated within her room. The smooth ridges that usually rode along the white walls like waves instead swirled erratically and aimlessly above the plaster surface. The comfortable, rhythmic hum of the AC that usually brought ease instead felt sharp and loud, like the buzz of an electric saw. For the first time in nine years, her own apartment felt like a prison instead of an oasis………

Emilia RAMOS  Golden Chains – was in 3rd grade at Saint Philip’s Episcopal Day School. Teacher: Ms. Nuell.

Excerpt from the story
…….. Long ago, in a kingdom far from the imagination of mankind a woman suffered….

….. Just as the memory faded away completely she fainted into the trap door with a gentle cry of pain. She welcomed the darkness. It would ease the pain of her confused mind.

She woke meters underground where everything was dark except for a dim light at the center of the room where a hole led further underground. She desired to jump in. Maybe there she could escape and have a hap p y and peaceful death where no one would ever find her, so she jumped. This time when she land ed she felt a splash of water. gold lay in a glimmering pool of indigo water. She submerged herself to hear the voice of her grandfather. “I knew you would find it darling. Even if your father did hide it from yoµ. This is the Pool of Truths. Are you read y to find out who you really are?”……..

Julia BUENO – Ouroboros – was in 8th grade atGulliver Academy.
Teacher: Maria Gonzalez. 

Excerpt from the story
…….. As it always has been, she waits by the river. The sun dips its weary head behind the horizon and beckons the night to take its place, and while waiting for its dutiful and fated respite she sits there among the darkening blades of grass. The bird jumps out of the tree and flutters in the air, releasing three caws just as always. Predictable, expected.
As it has always been, he appears after the dusk,.his hair a tangled bush of brown, his eyes ancient and embedded in the smooth skin of youth, gloriously shattered and yet whole. He reaches out his wrinkless hand, half in and half out of reach, and asks the same question as always.
“Are you ready to go?”
The gravity of fate pulls her hand towards him, intertwining their fingers in the awaited future.
By the river they walk a one way road, lined in repeated memories. He asks the next question as they pass the cedar tree, the one with the broken branch and the bird nest. She does not need to look up to know that it is there; it always has and always will be………

Daniella GARCIA-NOVAS – Avian – was in 10th grade at Palmer Trinity.
Teacher: TJ Murray.

Excerpt from the story
…….. Cold black tea rests untouched on the nightstand. I’m lying on an old and dusty grey couch. In a room with dim lighting, just the right amount to leave an eerie feeling in my fragile bones. I look down at my beat-up hands and I see them tied together with a rubber band. I know I could easily snap the rubber bands and free my trapped hands but I don’t seem to want to. I look around and try to escape the scent of gasoline but it’s creeping up my nostrils and sending the message to my brain, something’s off. A part of me remembers that I never liked black tea but this thought keeps pushing its way into my mind and suddenly I’m convinced I love it. I down the glass. A part of me is attempting to put the pieces together of this unfamiliar couch, but when I look at it, it seems to remind me of home. I feel so comfortable in the unknown, my mind is asking itself if its playing tricks. And then it goes blank. I opened my eyes, shivering on my bed, my covers seem to have fallen off whilst I slept. I stand up on my white floors, in my white nightgown, as I graze my hands across my white walls to make my way to my bright white bathroom. I look in the mirror, my blonde hair and grey eyes, my pale skin settles me. I hear a beep come from my neck, a reminder to go downstairs. I make my way down the white steps and sit down at the white table. My father hands me a plain bagel, cold, of course. As is everything. We cannot risk toasting the bagel, what if it burns. That unholy color can get us kicked out of Avian, and this is all we have………