Creative Thoughts - Featuring Middle School Students
Mirabella and her Admirers: the Adorable, the Hopeless and the Murderous by Rosie Kingston
Luna and the Stars by Jordan Martin
Fragile Bones by Jordan Martin
Cheap Wooden Graves by Jordan Martin
I am by Donae Herd
The Paris, France Take Over by Marisa Meeks
Lost or Not? by Marisa Meeks
The Chase by Michaela Frank
Right Now by Michaela Frank
The Last Scream by Michaela Frank
FlapJack the Hobo by Joshua Steinbrugge
Mirabella and her Admirers: the Adorable, the Hopeless and the Murderous
by Rosie Kingston
“There’s never enough embalming fluid, darn rotting flesh, gross dead…” he grumbled in a quiet breath. He slumped over each ancient step, gripping the loose railing which he relied on to support his perfectly capable body as he emerged from the cellar of his beloved mortuary. A wooden door swung open to expose a scruffy, broad shouldered boy.
“Mr. Rook, Mr. Rook!” the boy yelled, but received no answer. “We have new business.” He ran after Mr. Rook, skipping the cracked steps with one large stride. He was able to catch up once he dropped the boxes of papers he had been carrying. Everett Rook stopped with his back to his assistant.
“What is it, Henry?” Everett asked, slowly turning his shadow-hidden body towards his assistant. That’s how Everett preferred to be—in the shadows.
“Three new bodies arrived early this morning,” Henry announced in a nonchalant tone. He watched as Everett turned to walk away. Though Mr. Rook was most apt to endure living connection when it was with his young assistant, even that was sometimes too much for him, but Henry knew him too well to take it personally.
The iron door knob turned, unleashing three breathless cadavers. The first—an old lady. He grabbed the bag sent by her successors that gave her name and instructions regarding her clothes and make up. He stopped reading after bright blue eye shadow.
The second body was a teenage boy. His parents wanted for him to be cremated and with good reason. His eyes met the bottom of his nose and his wrists were thin with slices. Ugly little booger, Everett thought.
Before looking at the card of the third body he stared at it anticipating it to be a child or perhaps Mrs. Parvati’s spinster sister just because of the creature’s thinness. It was neither.
The card dropped to the floor, and Everett stood with shaking hands. Though Everett Rook had spent his life among the dead, he had never felt closer to it than he did at that moment. So close did he feel that it seemed it may take him then and there. He wished the name on the card was anyone’s but hers.
He ripped the sheet from over her bone white body, combing his fingers through her delicate hair, smoothing away the strawberry blonde curls. The card lay on the ground under his foot with his secret beloved’s name printed on it.
Mirabella Bellacosie slept breathless under Everett’s tight grip. He held onto the woman who he’d secretly loved for many years, until several minutes later his assistant burst through the door.
“What Henry?” he startled, retracting from Mirabella and standing over her defensively, “What’s so important?” He put the cover back over her pale body, leaving a few strands of fallen hair.
“Mr. Stone is here for his mum is all. I could come back at a later…” he was cut off.
“Well, we‘re not finished with her,” Everett snapped. “You tell him that he can come back tomorrow. You tell him he can’t have her yet…” Mr. Rook’s voice trailed off and became a bit wondrous and distant. Henry was happy to leave the chamber.
“They can’t have her. She’s mine,” Everett said to himself, but he did not refer to Mr. Stone’s mother. Mirabella Bellacosie wasn’t due for pick up for another two days. Cremation. How could someone want a person so beautiful to be cremated? he wondered. He sat thinking. He understood then that no one would want to give her up as she was- especially not to the cursed world that took her. No matter, the request for cremation was a God send. It would make it possible to carry out the plan which had formulated in his mind, to carry out the plan that would, at last, bring him together with his beloved Mirabella.
Everett lay in his small room above his mortuary. He dreamt while he lay awake, and his eyes glistened as he remembered her beautifully-figured body and the way her luscious curls caressed around her plump lips as she sang to herself when she roamed the narrow streets of the English shire, where she dwelled, mingling and weaving confidently as he never could. The rhythm at which her hips swayed was tapped permanently into his memory, and he resolved to make them sway to her alluring tune once again.
When Mrs. Bellacosie came to fetch the remains of her daughter from his mortuary, he stood on the stairs and watched through the crack in the cellar door as Henry handed over half of the ashes of the young boy whose parents had so conveniently forgotten to pick up. After seeing that the large woman had accepted the substitute and waddled through the front door, he returned to the cellar to begin work on Mirabella. He transferred her from the basement to the small flat above his shop where he slept and laid her tenderly in his bed. Then he started.
Everett worked all night. Rosy cheeks brightened the new beige color of Mirabella’s skin. Her lips were painted a bright red to match her new expensive dress and fresh nails. Her hair was pulled back in a soft pony tail that trailed down her stretching back.
For the first time in the shop‘s existence, it was closed. Henry was given the day off. It seemed as if that day people began to drop like flies, and their families had nowhere to take them.
The town was buzzing with gossip, but all resumed as usual when Everett reopened his shop the next day and took in an onslaught of already-stinking cadavers. However, he couldn’t keep his mind or even his eyes on his work. They were glued to the beautiful corpse hung from strings connected to the ceiling of his cellar. Mirabella was his own marionette, and he lingered for closing time when he could again dance with her as he had done on his day off. For several nights, he carried on his waltz, but the emptiness again began to fill him. She was truly but a ghost of that vibrant figure who had weaved so effortlessly throughout the hoards of people in the streets. “That’s what we’re missing—” he decided, “more people!”
Four bodies came the next morning. Everett wanted them, needed them. One was a woman with stringy black hair. A knee length dress with violet taffeta was placed on her pale body. The second was a middle-aged man with a handle bar mustache and blue lips. His hair was parted to the far right, and he wore a tummy-hugging brown suit with a teal tie. The third body was a little girl with two bows that separated her hair into pigtails. Her dress was navy blue with giant polka-dots. The last was a man that was around thirty. Everett wanted nothing to do with him. He was too good looking to be placed around Mirabella—she was his. His body was carelessly thrown into the chamber. No one would steel Mirabella from him.
The three he had transformed hung in the cellar beside Mirabella, all beautifully preserved. Everett stood staring into Mirabella’s unblinking, milky eyes and grabbed her for another waltz. The show that he put on that night with his newly chosen cast was, he believed, a masterpiece. The young girl looked up to Mirabella as a role-model, the man with the handle-bar mustache secretly loved her—but, of course had no chance with her- and the woman in the purple taffeta’s jealously conspired against her from across the room- but, of course didn’t manage to bring her any harm. The play was too good not to be shared. Everett—far from narcissistically—began production on his masterpiece.
When it came time to hang signs and pass out flyers Everett didn’t have Henry do it. Henry was stunned to say the least. In fact, Henry tried to remember if he had ever seen Mr. Rook in the sunlight. As he walked out of the front door of his shop, he looked like a fugitive corpse escaping.
Again the gossip surged. People gawked as they were approached by the pale young man who sported an awkward, nevertheless friendly smile.
“Come to my play,” he said, oblivious to the streetwalker’s fright.
When the night came, he had cleared the cellar and erected a set fitted for the fine performance he was soon to display. The entire town was left wondering about the cast for they all sat before the stage.
Guesses and gossip gripped the room with an unknowing creativity.
However, all fell silent and the lights dimmed. The audience sat waiting for what came next. Everett appeared on stage with a shy light reflecting on him, contrasting his shocking outgoingness as he addressed the crowd.
“Presenting for your enjoyment and pleasure, Mirabella and her Admirers: the Adorable, the Hopeless and the Murderous. Enjoy the show!” Everett bowed as the curious audience clapped, and then he elegantly backed off the stage.
The velvet red curtain rose. Shadows of figures were the only objects visible. Children had smiles from ear to ear, adults squeezed each other’s hands in excitement, the elderly members turned up their hearing aids and everyone sat in an unsettled silence.
One light hit Mirabella’s exquisite figure and the crowd leaned closer. One by one the lights flashed across the stage until all the figures were revealed. Family members of the cast were practically off their seats trying to get a better view of what they thought they were seeing. A teenager in the front row began to viciously point something out to his mum. The cadavers danced and moved so realistically it was hard to tell they were dead. A scream came from a woman in the fifth row. She pointed out a few spots of rotting flesh. Mirabella was the first to be recognized. The audience sat in awe, unable to shield their eyes, but terrified for their own lives in the presence of a mad puppeteer.
Everett had been very hopeful that the audience would see the magnificence, the brilliance, the utter perfection of his idea and overlook the slight detail that he had stolen and strung up the bodies of their beloved family members. But, when they did not, he reluctantly stopped the show. Taking advantage of their shock, he threw the light switch and left them in the complete blackness of his cellar. Nimbly, he retrieved his dear Mirabella and slipped out through a window.
Years later, Henry would run the mortuary, and he would spread the legend of the anthropophobic man who put the performance of a lifetime—of a death time—on for the entire town. As time passed, and even when Henry was certain that his former boss must have been dead, he often thought he could hear the sound of Mr. Rook’s voice mumbling over the bodies he had once cursed. “There’s never enough embalming fluid, darn rotting flesh, gross dead…” he had once grumbled. Now his spirit whispered, “Oh, you delightful little specimen, what potential, what potential. Never has there been a more beautiful corpse as this … of course except for you, my dear Mirabella, except for you.”
Luna and the Stars
by Jordan Martin
Luna, my sister, used to tell me that the whole world was wrong.
“Wrong about what?” I’d ask her.
“Just wrong about everything,” she’d say, her voice strained.
“Oh,” I’d murmur, mesmerized by Luna. All it really took to entrance me was for her to tell me something.
My sister had these ideas about how everything was created. Sometimes, when she would get so passionate about it, I was almost scared of the ideas. I was jealous of how sure she was in her beliefs. I felt more alone than ever.
She used to write down everything that she believed in this old, tattered notebook, and she carried it around with her all the time. One time, she caught me looking in it, and she told me that if I ever did again, the gods would get mad, and then I’d be cursed. After that, I stayed clear of it.
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During one summer, Luna got really into black-and-white photography. I was her only model, and we used to traipse around the whole city to find cool spots to shoot.
Luna would smear thick lines of eyeliner on my eyelids and tons of powder on my face so I would look pale. I would have black eyes and white skin, so it maximized the contrast. Usually, she would dress me in some ridiculous ‘couture’ thing that she saw in magazines.
Even though I complained about it to Luna all the time, I loved being the center of her world. I would give up everything if I could go back to that summer.
If I could have Luna back.
There was one story, one of Luna’s creations, one that I loved. I made her read it to me all the time. I think that she ended up regretting telling me about it.
But when she got taken away, when our parents turned into ice, the stories all went away. I never imagined, not even for a second, that there was anything wrong with Luna. That she made everything up, and that she wasn’t really with me. At least not all the time. But it didn’t make any sense to me.
Luna and I used to spend hours in the kitchen, while our parents were at work, experimenting with different recipes. We mostly baked, and Luna loved to make up new cupcake recipes. If I tried to use a cake mix, she would grab it and throw it out, claiming that it was garbage.
Luna knew how to do everything, and could do it all perfectly. She once told me that the gods had given her lots of gifts.
“I’ve been blessed,” she used to tell me, over and over.
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Before Luna was gone, we used to lay in the front yard and gaze up at the stars. That’s when I would make her tell me the star story.
Long ago, a single planet was in the night sky. It didn’t ever move, and it didn’t have any friends, because the gods hadn’t created the rest of the universe yet.
On this lonely planet, there was a kingdom called Rozen. It had everything it needed to be a rich and big kingdom, but the ruler was very cruel.
The king, King Hall, was mean to everyone around him. He was very greedy, so he made the people pay him lots and lots of money every month. Almost everyone lived in the streets, poor and starving.
“Don’t you ever be like that,” she’d warn me.
“I promise,” I’d whisper back.
There was a girl named Verity, who lived by the marketplace with her three younger sisters. Her parents had died long ago, so she tried to take care of her sisters.
She used to get food for them, but when she had no money left, she began painting things for the merchants in exchange for food. She used everything and anything for paint.
For a very long time, she wasn’t able to get very much food. But one day, she was painting someone’s portrait, when King Hall came riding down the street.
“Merely a coincidence,” Luna’d tell me.
“I’m sure,” I’d sigh.
He saw Verity’s painting, and insisted that she come to the castle and paint decorations. She agreed, and went to gather all of her paints. They went back to the castle, and he put her in a room and told her to paint.
So, Verity painted. She stayed in that room for three days, and painted majestic paintings. Scenes that depicted beautiful queens and kings and wars and happiness and stories from the Rozen religion. Her work was so beautiful that the king decided to be generous and pay the girl.
“After all, she doesn’t have much else,” he whispered to one of his servants.
King Hall gave Verity enough money to buy a nice house and provide her sisters with plenty of food. She even had enough for new paints and a house servant.
Verity thanked him and ran back to the village, the money safely in her pocket. When she got back to her sisters, they looked excited. She pulled out a generous amount of money, and told them to keep it safe.
Then she went around the entire village, distributing the money to everyone. It was enough for everyone to get a little food, and she thought it was a good thing to share.
“She’s so nice,” I’d whisper.
“Yes. She’s one of the nicest,” Luna’d agree.
But after the money ran out, Verity went back to struggling for food. She moved around so much, she got sick. She was coughing and shaking. Once, she started to shake uncontrollably. Her sisters were terribly scared. So they begged for money, and eventually got enough for her to see the doctor.
The doctor told Verity that she had a bad disease, consumption, and that she wasn’t going to last for a long time. He also said that it wasn’t treatable. She paid him, and went back to her sisters.
“Merely a cold,” she lied. She continued painting, and continued getting food. She painted extra, so her sisters could sell them after she was gone.
“How could the gods let her die?” I’d ask, my voice upset.
“The Gods had bigger plans for her,” Luna’d say.
When Verity went, her sisters were shocked and horribly upset.
But Verity was sent up to the gods, for she had been a gracious and compassionate person while human. They made her the Goddess of Light. She was to bring light and beauty into the empty world.
When Verity looked down upon Rozen, she felt sorrow for the people. So she cried tears that drenched the blackness. The tears turned gold in the inky darkness, and lit everything up. She cried a tear, bigger than the rest, and it became the largest in the sky.
When the people on Rozen noticed, they rejoiced. There was light. Verity’s sisters saw the biggest star, and immediately thought of Verity. They told people that if they wished on that star, then the goddess would grant the wish.
Verity decided that Rozen shouldn’t be alone, so she painted the sky full of planets and stars. The darkness was no more.
“Wow,” I’d say.
“Wow,” Luna’d repeat.
Luna never told me that she was making it all up; she never told me that she wasn’t okay. I learned when she was taken away from me, kicking and screaming, that nothing she’d said was real. But I still believed in Verity, because she was a part of me somehow.
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When I was fifteen, young and naïve, Luna was taken away from me. I sat on the porch in the middle of the afternoon, when I saw my parents pull into the driveway. They were together, which wasn’t normal, and their faces were grim. They didn’t even acknowledge me when they went into the house.
I got up, silently, and followed them inside. Luna had been in her room for the whole day; she had slept a lot that summer. I watched my parents pry open her door and start packing clothes, throwing them into a huge duffel bag.
Luna was curled up, her eyes wide open and red, but she didn’t make a sound. But then my parents went to get Luna off her bed, and she started to scream. It was a bloodcurdling scream that woke the whole world. I ran to her and tried to cover her, but my parents peeled me off and picked up Luna.
She kicked and hit them, but they just carried her into the car and locked the doors.
That’s the last time I saw Luna. She had her face pressed against the window, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her lips mouthing, I love you.
I’m sorry.
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The day after she left, I decided to risk being cursed, just once more, and peeked into her journal. Written at the end, was something for me.
Remember the stars, and remember me.
Fragile Bones
by Jordan Martin
no one reaches out
to grab our fragile bones
mouths wide open,
we are wanting more
than we could ever have
falling with grace
numb bodies, numb minds
fingertips searching,
for something unknown
for something we need
tears rolling down
our frozen cheeks
souls spreading,
flying high above
our broken bodies
time suspended
reality unrealistic
fears sink into
the frosted air,
leaving it with a bitter aftertaste
we all had things we
had to live for
as we drift,
memories and photographs flash
and remind us of who we used to be
Cheap Wooden Graves
by Jordan Martin
Nails seal us in these
Cheap wooden graves
You can hear the
Scraping behind the covers
You can hear the bells ringing
But you are scared
And you stay still
So we break out of
These forced prisons
We creep along,
Silent as the night
You can feel it
Something’s not right
Our hands cover your
Barely open mouth
Spiders come out of
Our spindly fingers
And weave webs
Over your face
Covering up
All your lies
We float out and reclaim
Everything we had
They won’t ever know
We did this to you
A lie you told
Now you pay
For these cold
Injection lines
But now, it’s all over
Nails sealed us in those
Cheap wooden graves
by Donae Herd
I am the prize in a cereal box
Quietly waiting at the bottom, as you sort through the top
I am a small light that’s only seen at the end of the hallway
Shinning bright, ‘til you walk down my way
I am a torn pair of jeans
Within a hole, my whole life screams
I am the lyrics to your favorite song
Without me, everything will go wrong
I am a faded rainbow that appears after a day of rain
My colors bring confusion and sometimes pain
I am the brightest star that shines at night,
Seen all through the dark, and disappears in the light
I am the roar from a tiger’s mouth
After every single tear has been burnt out
I am a small leaf, gripping a broken branch
Still sometimes in the wind, I’ll spin and prance
I am the “A” in the alphabet
Without me, there will be nothing to begin with
I am Donae Eshae and no, I will never change
The way I do me will always be the same
The Paris, France Take Over
by Marisa Meeks
In the year 2008 in Paris, France it was very hot and humid but it had a few breezes. Lots of people were roaming the streets, pushing people out the way to their destination. In the LaDelae’ restaurant in the basement men in business suits were keeping me hostage.
“Please sir why must you keep me hostage in this basement, what did I do wrong?” I said to the men in the black business suits
“Shut up be quiet or you’ll die!” The biggest man of them all said.
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!”He pulls the gun out and puts it in my face.
“I will blow your brains out!”
“Do it I have nothing to live for anyway! I did nothing wrong but do what you have to do.”
The man who was going to blow my brains out looked at me like he felt sorry for me. He then made a mean face and shot me in my chest and arm. I screamed as the bullet pierced holes in my skin. The man looked at me with a face that could only be read as regret. I started to get dizzy and my mind rolled to the back of my head as my body fell, limp to the cold basement floor. Pain was over whelming me and I think I’m still screaming but I can’t tell because the pain is the main focus right now. I heard sirens and then a couple of people ran and started trying to receive me.
“Is she still alive?”
“Well I think so she keeps screaming.”
“She may be alive but she’s barely holding on.”
“Oh no, I’m losing, I’m losing-- huh!”
“But wait! Somehow Jessica may be still alive!
“While I feel bolts of shocks going through my chest hoping that it may bring me to life I hear myself talking in my head!”
“Is that a sign that I am alive?” I’m thinking subconsciously.
The ambulance and police sirens turn onto the scene as if this was the last mission of their lives! With everybody speeding towards me I finally breathed my last breath. Felt my last touch. Thought my last thought, I was appeared on the scene dead!
“Hello, this is Michelle Foxx on New Center 6 live; we appear on the scene of a murder case at the famous restaurant LaDelae’. In the basement blood and bullets were scattered everywhere! The court hearing will be settled on February 6, 2008. Our cameras and crew will be on the scene.”
February 6, 2008
“Order, Order! Can we have Jessica’s attorney up to the stand?”
“Well the alleged victim Jessica Burnstein was murdered by 3 men. Wake up court! Wake up!”
“Jessica!” Her mom said.
“Mom, Jessica said confusingly! Oh it was all just a dream?”
“Honey what are you talking about?”
“Oh never mind!”
So to say, it was all just a dream? I just had a bad dream I guess.
“Oh ok well, your soccer game is at 3:00, piano lessons at 5:30 and you need to get ready for a dinner at 7:00!” Jessica’s mom said intensely while picking up her dirty clothes.
My mom was one of the moms that would live out her dreams through her children. There was nothing you could do or say to her that would change her mind. That was the only thing I disliked about my mom.
“Mom do I have to?”
“What?! Of course you do.”
“But, don’t you think I could take a break from my busy sssche--, what was that?”
All of a sudden a loud shot is heard from down the street. I could hear it because my freshly painted window was open while the summer breeze blew through. My mom suddenly rushed towards the kitchen as if her life depended on it. I shut my window as soon as possible. I try to hear if my mom was coming back to my room but I stood there and heard silence. I then got worried!
“Mom?” I say softly and curiously.
I get no answer. So I slowly pick up my phone to call 9-1-1. For some reason the phones aren’t working. By this time my whole back side is sweating, my stomach is turning and my head is throbbing with thunder bolts of pain. So as you see I am scared for my life!
“Is anyone home?” an old lady says softly.
“Umm…yes.” I say nervously.
The old lady pushes the door open as if this was her house. She comes in and I start to look confused. She looks like another lady that lived on my block before Mrs. Maryweather.
“Hello deer, I happen to have been watching the news channel when my power went off and I was wondering if I could watch it here?”
I was thinking to myself what the heck? But what came out my mouth was total opposite.
“Sure come on in!”
“Oh by the way my name is Mrs. Scott.”
“Oh ok hello Mrs. Scott my name is Jessica.”
“Well nice to meet you Jessica. By the way where is your mother?”
“She’s… umm at work.”
Knowing that I was lying I got even more nervous because my mom was probably dead! When I turn my back the old lady jumps up. She starts looking for things inside of my couch.
“May I ask you what you’re doing?”
“Oh umm…ok I can’t hold this in any longer I am a spy. I have been spying on you by playing your mom.”
“What! But, wait I’m adopted?”
“Yeah when you were younger your dad had a business that was very successful. But you didn’t get a chance to be seen with him or interactive because he would always say he never had children so the media wouldn’t be all over you.”
“So you jus adopted me because of who my dad is?”
“No, no just…”
“No I think that’s why, so I guess nobody truly loves me for me.”
I start to get very emotional so I run out the house and find my way back to my friend’s house her name is Alesha.
“Ugh, why are you so sweaty?”
“Long story but I need to talk to you.”
“Oh ok sure.” Alesha said nervously.
Jessica told Alesha what happened. Alesha was totally confused when Jessica told her what happened!
“So this is why I must run away A.S.A.P!”
“Ok but don’t you think you should really think about this?”
Jessica took her advice and thought about it for overnight. By the morning of the next day she was gone. Alesha was not with her. So Alesha started to get scared and called the police. The police have been searching since the year 1990 and to this day they have not found her yet. Hopefully there is luck because she has been through this many times before and has always had a scary past behind her. On Saturday November 3, 2009 a man turned him self into the New York City jail. This man was her killer!
Lost or Not?
by Marisa Meeks
"Rrrrrrr” (Fast whirling of a sewing machine)
“Ring, ring”
“Hello, this is Amari Jones.”
………. (Silence)
“Hello?”
“Oh, I’m sorry I couldn’t hear you correctly.”
“Well may I ask who is calling?”
“This is Simone Robinson……you know from the old fashion label “Skunk”
“Oh yes I remember you, I now know why I left that place.”
“Ha, ha, ha, well the reason why I was calling was because I wanted to invite you to our open house next week.”
“Open house? Well I have to see because I am going to a fashion show in Paris and won’t be back until next week on that Tuesday. But maybe I can come next time.”
“Awww…well that’s too bad but enjoy the fashion show and talk to you later.”
“OK bye.”
When I hung up I didn’t really know why Simone would call me because we aren’t really the best of friends. I really didn’t have time to figure out because I was on my way to the top! As I continue working I hear a knock at the door. So I walk over to see who it is.
“Oh hi may I help you?” A woman with a pony tail, torn and ratty clothes, with a basket approaches me.
“Yes, I need a place to stay I just got kicked out of my home,” She said in a soft peasant voice.
“Well I’m sorry I don’t really have a place for you in my home.”
“Just for a night?”
“No, but I have to be going now.” I’m thinking what, and who is this old woman and why my house?
“Ok well I will leave.”
“Bye ma’am”
I begin to close the door and all of a sudden the woman pushes me out the way shockingly. She then takes me by my arms and pulls me. I try my hardest to pull away but she is so strong. I’m thinking to myself how is an old woman like her strong enough to hold me down? Then I start to think and look at this woman very closely. When I look I see a Purple Heart nose ring and a star tattoo on her neck. I say to myself Simone! She tried to disguise herself!
“Simone you are Si-” hmm, hmm, hmm by this time she has tied my arms, legs and mouth. Why would she do this to me?
“Ha, ha, ha now you will never succeed as a designer, I will!”
Then she takes me out of my house out of the back door so the neighbors wouldn’t see us. All I could think is what did I ever do to her to make her do what she’s doing? When we get into this black, dark and vacant van out of nowhere I feel my phone vibrate. All I am thinking is yes, now all I have to do is get help.
Simone starts to drive and out of a petite and dusty window I see the airport. Why would we go to the airport I wondered? Then Simone slides this piece of glass over that goes to the back seat where I am.
“Ready to make my dreams come true Amari?” She then removes the tie on my mouth.
I exhale as if I just ran a marathon because of all the fear I had.
“What are you doing? What is wrong with you?”
“I am getting my dream back something you took away from me.”
“I never took anything away from you but just because I started my career before you doesn’t mean anything!”
“Well I don’t care until I get my name on “JET” magazine I won’t rest. So you will be my designer and you will be kidnapped until then.”
I start to pray and to hope that this is all a dream but when I open my eyes it’s totally not! So we arrive at the shuttle in the Air Port and Simone is in another disguise. We then get on a plane and we were going to Paris the same place I was supposed to go for the fashion show. When we arrived in Paris we all had to show our ID’s. This is when Simone had a problem. Her ID didn’t match her appearance. So when I showed my ID I was free to go so I walked as fast as I could to get away but when Simone saw me she ran after me. And guess what…….she caught me. So then we had to rent a car and stay in a house where Simone had bought before.
“So what are we supposed to do now Einstein?!”
“Now we make me famous.”
Years pass by and I have been kidnapped for 3yrs now my business has closed down and all. I am now in a dump while Simone is living her life all because of me.
“Pack up we are going to Italy!”
“Cha Ching!” Simone says with dollar signs coming from her eyes.
“Sure what ever.”
Wait! My mind just gave me a spectacular idea. When we get to Italy I will destroy her fashion show and all. We arrive in Italy and we stay in this hotel. Make yourself comfortable because this is your home for the night right now.
“We will start speaking other country’s language so the cops won’t find us easily!”
I say nothing all I’m doing is giving her the longest and hardest stare.
My neighbor at home in New York is like one of my sisters. She didn’t know I was kidnapped she calls me,
“Video phone like a cameo take me on your video phone I can handle you…” (Ring tone)
“Hello.” I said in a soft low voice.
“Hey girl it’s Monica!”
Monica is tall, has medium length hair, and loves shopping like me!
“Oh hey umm I need to tell you something.”
“Ok?”
“I am kidnapped and I am in Italy I need you to call the police.”
“What! Kidnapped! Why didn’t you call me earlier? But ok I will call the police and get help.”
So she went and got help and finally someone found out and got Simone arrested and I have not talked to her since. For me my business is back, I found out that there was no open house for Skunk, I am careful about who my friends are. I didn’t make the Paris fashion show that week but in return I got myself back where I was supposed to be!!
by Michaela Frank
“No! Wait! Stop!”
“Are you kidding, I’m going to California! Vanessa yelled back at me as she ran towards the tour bus.
“But you can’t!”
“Ha ha bye!” she squealed as she blew me a sarcastic kiss and hopped on the bus. I watch hopelessly as the bus drove down the twisty, road out of sight. I broke out into tears and sat down on the curb. I was supposed to go to California, not Vanessa! I was going to go on a singing tour but now Vanessa is going to disguise herself as me, which won’t be very hard because quite frankly we could be twins. Vanessa is always picking on me I thought as I ran home tears still streaming down my face. I ran up the steps to my house and rushed through the door. My mother immediately saw my tears and ran over to me.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Vanessa.”
I began telling my mother everything that happened and she listened to every word carefully. When I was finished explaining she ran to the phone.
“Mom what are you doing?”
“I’m calling the tour bus!”
“Mom don’t be stupid they won’t believe you Vanessa looks exactly like me they
“Your right, so pack your bags and get in the car we’re gonna chase that bus to California!”
~ ~ ~ ~
Since my mother spent lots of money on and I quote “me and my dreams,” she decided that an airplane would be too expensive so we had to drive. The drive was ridiculously long and I was getting carsick.
“Mom, are we almost there?”
My mom sighed,
“No honey about eight more hours.”
“Ugh!”
We would never make it there at this rate. I decided to take a nap to get my mind off things.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In my dream I was standing on the big stage singing for an audience made up of screaming fans. Vanessa was sitting in the back row scowling towards me and I couldn’t help but give her a smirk that I had been holding in for a long time then all of the sudden I was in the audience watching myself sing. I looked around to see if anybody realized this. Slowly I began to realize that it wasn’t me up on that stage, it was Vanessa! And she was the one smirking at me! This made me furious and angry tears rolled down my face as I screamed!
“Honey, what’s wrong? Honey?!”
“What?”
“You screamed!”
“Oh, yeah, it’s just a bad dream.”
“Okay, well we’re about two or three hours away so you slept quite awhile.”
“Yeah I guess I did.”
Then what I dreaded might happen to my mom’s old rickety car, happened! The car started shaking violently and the engine started making a noise like it was popping popcorn.
“Mom?”
“Oh crap, stupid car come on!”
“No, no, no, no, no!”
The car came to a complete stop and we were stuck on the side of the road teetering on the edge of a ditch.
“Now what?”
My mom laughed nervously,
“Well, carefully get out of the car on the right side other wise we will slide into the ditch.”
“Right, okay I can do this.”
I climbed out the side of the car at the same time my mom did and my suitcases slid to the left side.
“Nooooooooooooooooooooo!”
The car tipped to the left and tumbled down into the ditch.
“Great, well that car had to go anyway.”
My mom laughed,
“Yeah it did.”
I looked down the country road and to either side no cars were approaching.
“Well how are we getting there now?”
“I don’t know sweety, I don’t know.”
Just when she said that an old cab drove down the road.
“Hey, wait!”
I yelled waving my hands wildly at the cab. The cab screeched to a stop with a confused look on his face.
“Need to be somewhere?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yes, thank you,” My mother said.
“It’s no problem where to?”
“The California stage please!”
“Alright here we go!”
My mother and I settled into the backseat of the cab and sighed a sigh of relief.
“I think we’re gonna make it now honey, I think we’re gonna make it”
I beamed at my mother and started to plan how I was gonna get Vanessa’s but off the stage.
Right Now
by Michaela Frank
Each and every day I see my friends,
They’re being badly judged by the color of their skin.
I don’t understand! What did they do?
Cause on the inside they’re like me and you.
Although we’ve overcame some nasty things,
There are still some people who think they are our kings.
We still have racism, hatred, and disrespect.
We need to, need to stop it now; we need to get this perfect.
Each and every one of us has a human right.
Right now, some of them seem outta’ sight.
Different religions, different colors, different ways of thinking,
People listen up ‘cause our economy’ is sinking.
These are some things we still must overcome.
We’re gonna’ need some input from everyone.
Now is the time to change our former way.
Not tomorrow people because today is our day!
The Last Scream
by Michaela Frank
Part 1
As I bolt through the unused, heavily greased, metal door, slamming it behind me I can hear my unsteady heartbeat echoing off the old laboratory walls. I panic as my fingers feel around desperately for a lock. Finding it, I shove the rusted dead bolt to the right as I spin around to look for a hiding place. On the other side of the door I can hear the monsters ravenous cry of thirst. Each breath I take is uneven and worried. I rack my brain for ways of escape from the bloodthirsty monster. The vampire thrusts his fists into the metal, leaving large protrusions in it. As the old door was giving out I slid under a paint-chipped, black lab table. I watched as the door completely gave way and flew across the room with such force that it broke through the concrete wall directly across from it. Frightened, I clenched myself up into a tight ball, knowing that the crazed vampire would find me no matter what I did. I tried to calm my breaths but it did no good, he heard me and his head whipped around to look at me, pitifully curled up into a ball under the lab table, wide eyed with fear. Now I knew for sure that he would be the last thing I saw before I died.
Part 2
“Please, please, don’t hurt me! Please! He smiled and his razor sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight that was streaming through the broken concrete wall. He cackled an awful laugh as he said, “Do you really want those to be your last words?” I inched back towards a scalpel that was lying on the floor. Then, it all happened very fast, I grabbed the scalpel and immediately the vampire realized what I was doing. He raced towards me snatching at the thin silver blade. As he snagged the scalpel I it one good shove into his eye and quickly turned around to dart out the door less entrance way. While I ran towards the door I looked back at the vampire that was now more ravenous than before, as he yanked the bloody scalpel out of his eye and threw it on the ground. I was almost to the door, just a couple more yards and I would be out of the old laboratory. He was already two feet behind me exposing his blood splattered fangs again. He grabbed my arm and yanked me towards him his cold breath beating down on my neck. “No, please, stop! I screamed as the beast opened his mouth to bite into my warm blooded neck. And that was my last scream as a human!
FlapJack the Hobo
by Joshua Steinbrugge
“Order up,” Mister Jacobs said at the Flapjack House.
“Thanks Mister Jacobs, says a customer. You make the best pancakes in all of New York.”
Wee!! Woo!! Wee!! Woo!!
“Mister Jacobs. We have an order to shut your restraunt down.”
“Why? What did I do?” said Mister Jacobs.
“I don’t know” the cop said.
“Then who ordered you.”
“I can’t tell you.”
Wee!!! Woo!!! Wee!!! Woo!!!
“Mister Jacobs, why did you leave the fryer on? You burnt down your whole restraunt,” says a fire fighter.
“Well if those idiot cops wouldn’t have shown up we wouldn’t be in this mess.” “Slow down Mister Jacobs it’s not your fault,” says the fire fighter.
“Yes it is, said the cop. He burnt down his own restaurant.”
“Shut up I didn’t,” said Mr. Jacobs!
Later that evening…
Knock! Knock!! Knock!!! …
“Open up Mr. Jacobs!!!!”
“Yes, “says Mr. Jacobs opening his door.
“Mr. Jacobs we have an order to evict you from this apartment. Now gather your things and get out,” said the cop!
I have all my tools to cook, very little money, and my cookbooks. I just have to … hey there’s a box! I could sleep right here inside of it.
Zzzz! Zzzz!
Arf! Arf!! Arf!!!
Ahhhhhhh!!!
Mister Jacobs wakes up and sees a dog.
“Easy boy wait I could cook him a pancake. Good b-”
“Hey, you messin’ wit my dog!”
“Hi, my name is Jack. Jack Jacobs. Owner of the-… well former owner of the Flapjack house.
“What kind of name is that?”
“Excuse me?!”
“I said what kind of name is that dirt bag. Yer name kin be Flapjack.
“Oh! I’m Flapjack the hobo.”
“Yeah. I’m Big Dawg. I live here.”
“I need to get back to New York City to find out why my stuff was taken”
“I could use dat pickup over there it just needs some gas.”
“Here’s fifty bucks.”
“Good now where do I need to take you.”
“You need to take me to the Big Apartment building on Main Street.
The next morning…
“We’re here to dat Big ‘partment buildin’”, mumbles Big Dawg.
“All we need to do is get to apartment #30 on the third floor.”
“I gots ladders we kin use in my pickup.”
Ahhhhhhh!!
Oooffff!!! “Yo ka Jack. Jack!!!!!!
Oh my gosh!
“Someone help a man has taken the apartment building hostage!”
Big Dawg goes into apartment #30 and finds out the Truth.
It turns out that the idiot cop burnt down the restraunt down because he
Was angry about his food. And he evicted him from his apartment because he was tired of him complaining.
“Wat kind a man gots a diary,” says Big Dawg.
“It’s a journal, and you’re under arrest for trespassing.”
“No! You’re under arrest, Officer Finklebottom, for burning down a restaurant and evicting a man for no reason,” said the captain.
After this, the cop was sent to jail for 34 years. Big Dawg was awarded owner of the apartment building. And Mister Jacobs got his restraunt rebuilt and his apartment back. Everyday Mister Jacobs goes and laughs in the face of Mr. Finklebottom.
Ha!!! Ha!!! Ha!!!
