More Then What It Seems

A quiet building filled with dreams that can be held. The dreams are written and bound into the cover, only coming to life in the mind and remaining dormant otherwise.
The creators of these tangible dreams are translating from the language of the Universe into the simpler languages of Earth. The written words are the tamed dream which becomes wild and free once the words have completely faded. Books house the dream and treat it like a guest. The guest is comfortable and content but longs to run free in the whispers of past dreams. The host feels sad that the guest wishes to leave, but they understand and try to make their guest happy for the time being. Because the guests of books all don't entirely want to stay, the well-meaning hosts seek company in each other. Books are lonely creatures that feel the need to live in shelves (a group of books much like a herd of deer) for other beings tend to only be able to hurt them. These residents of libraries and bookstores, physical wonders with a dream residing in them, are very sensitive and fragile. They wait a long and lonely while for someone to experience their dream.

So you see, a book is more then what it seems.

Fading

Isabella C. 

Hope trumps all other

emotions. But mine's fading.

Going, going, gone.

Sublime

Sublime

R. Rawal

Autumn leaves dropping,

an avalanche of color,

sublime images.

run.

run through hard days
run through good days
run through anger
run through fear

slam! bam!
on the concrete
on the grass
through the sand

run through rain
run through heat
run through snow
run through problems

your problems fall away
and energy is released in bursts

you feel control
you feel peace
you feel stable

you are running
you are gone

Forced Laughter: A Play

Forced Laughter

By: L.A. Mullins

Setting:

-abandoned classroom

-three or four desks

-whiteboard w/working markers

Summary:

  Two people who hate each other, and for good reason too, are stuck in an abandoned classroom by their friends to work out their differences.

Cast:

Atlas: male, 16 or 17, rude, rebellious, mysterious

Emmaline: female, 16 or 17, quiet, uptight, “ice queen”

Gone

 Your face fills my mind
Your words fill my thoughts
And you fill my dreams

But why are you there?
I didn't allow you in
I never said you could

Untitled Short Story

Untitled Short Story

Charles Hudson Bäck

            The stone black tarmac spilled out inch by inch under the lone headlights of Ted Forrester’s police cruiser. A cold sweat ran down his body as a sense of urgency began to tighten around him. The moon and the stars were his only companions along this road, and this far from the city, their brightness befriended him. The night was cloaked around the earth as a blanket, dark and plagued by humid air. Were it not for the rickety air conditioning of the ancient cruiser, Ted would be suffocated.

Harrowing in the Fen

Harrowing in the Fen

Nicholas Pettross

Mangled in the mud || mourning a lost sky
Tears never tarrying flow || and I drink as I cry
Over men dead long ago || deep in the dirt
Of betrayal and beatings || born of jealously and love
A count is made of the seconds || swearing on Monte Cristo. 

In My Dreams

The loneliness loves to creep in at night

It comes from the woods

Through the wall of thick vines

Long spindly fingers grab at my wrists

Begging me to follow its

Trail of unruly fits

The Heart

The Heart

H. Carpenter 

The fragile gateway to the soul.
The  organ that functions,
but never seems whole.
The pumping, thumping
muscle that claims to fill
the cavity in our chest.

The central hub
of life's ebb and flow.
Funny, so important,
yet, so easily let go,
by those desperate to feel -
something...anything...

The Treaty Oak

The Treaty Oak

Parker Staples

It is called the Treaty Oak
and it is a tree that stands in a city,
out of place among the swirling traffic and towering buildings.
A tree that has stood for centuries and seen so much.
A tree that has lost everything and keeps losing.
A Tree who can never die.
A prisoner of his own immortality,
he is trapped in a forest of glass and steel,
cut off from the Sun and Sky he once knew.

Smoke and Snowflakes

Smoke and Snowflakes

Parker Staples 

Smoke and Snowflakes
dance on the breath
of a boy who wanted
to wish away the Sun.
He walks through halls
filled with demons
who scream at him:
Weak
Loser
Stupid
Lame

Who To Blame?

Who to Blame?
Jon
 

Loyalty does not pay,

scumbags do prey.

but honorable are unsung,

and my honor is not young.

Theives deserve strained necks.

But justice I have restrained, 

for duty demands, that I stay my hand.

These crooks deserve not a clean death.

Judgement I have refrained,

I will find them throughout the land,

as duty demands.

The AP

The AP 
 Naveen

I took an AP today

I think I’ll go home and pray

‘Cause on the big test

My thoughts were distressed

I’ll take it again some day

School

School

  Redi T.

It's almost the end of the year,

The tests are redundant in here.

The bothers of stress,

I wish I had less.

But who cares? The summer is near!

Birth of Seasons

Birth of Seasons

Ali C.

Snow:

It falls, gently reminding

Us of wishes upon stars

Coming closer to us,

Tickling our noses,

Cooling our tongues

And blanketing the earth

In purest ice, in whitest beauty.

See:

It grows, this flower blooming

Breaks free from the earth and is

Bringing life to us,

Sweetening the air,

Warming our faces,

And joining its brothers 

In brightest joy, in richest freedom.

Rewind

Rewind

B. Case 

Abella sees the bullet as it moves towards her. She knew that should be impossible since the people who kidnapped her had blindfolded her but she could. She can feel it bury itself in her forehead, but she feels no pain. And then her body drops. She can still hear everything and this scared her. The man in charge, or at least who Abella thinks is in charge, shouts to get a body bag and clean up the mess. Abella takes a deep breath and tries to tell the men, who she can now fully see, that she’s still alive but her body doesn’t comply and she’s left in the hands of the men who ended her life.

She can feel the creep of strong hands as they wrap her up in a trash bag and sees the remorse in one of the henchman’s eyes. Silent screams echo in her mind as they throw her into a hole and she watches as the men go, leaving the one behind with tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry”: a whispered apology that becomes empty when the nameless man throws dirt on top of her. 

Whittling

Whittling

Allison C.

     When I walk out of my art class, I look up at the sky and I notice the color. I appreciate how it contrasts with the red brick of the building. I see little patches of bright blue peeking through the brilliant green leaves. I follow the little wisps across the sky with my eyes, and I wonder what it would be like to paint them.

A Flight From Berlin

 A Flight From Berlin

Nicholas Pettross

               When you are up this high, you rarely hear the bullets, the shells, and the screams. The cacophony of death below becomes a spectacle, lines of ants maneuvering in defenses and encirclements. You don’t think of them as human at that point, only targets for your artillery. All you hear up here is the beat of the wind, the chug of machines, and the firing of massive Krupp cannons. Sometimes the loudspeakers play music, but that always gets drowned out when we enter the airspace above the Königsburg line.

I Am

I Am

T.A. Hokama 

I am the

brown-eyed girl

who sits on the sidewalk

every day

after school

waiting for her friends

who never come

she speaks quietly

to herself

Never

Never

Anusha K.

I've never said them;

Those three words that mean so much.

Can you guess those words?

Falling

Falling

Orlandria Heggs

She was falling
For him.
For the way
He walked, talked, laughed....
Smiled.
He hypnotized her
With his eyes...
With the sweet nothings...
With the empty
I love yous.

Flaws

Flaws

K. Oliver

I have Flaws.

I procrastinate, I

won't tolerate, I

can't reciprocate, I

fail to operate.

Mourning Dew

Mourning Dew

Emily Lovett



Is that morning dew,
now glistening on the grass,
or tears overdue?

The Task

The Task
Jeff Grove

They surge into my class

Like a storm tide at flood.

Enough energy erupts

To power a metropolis.

Creative expression

Within their grasp,

Their thoughts yet wander

To myriad concerns

Removed from our subject

By miles of youth.

It's Coming

It's Coming
 J-T 

It's coming.

The date we've been waiting for.

The date we've suffered for.

The Remnant

The Remnant

T.A. Hokama

The beautiful flag flaps high and proud,

the only bright splash of color

against a sky stained dark with sin.

Beneath these roiling, looming clouds,

the children of the world march—

each of their sluggish steps

a caricature,

a mockery

of the once-vibrant heartbeat

that filled this planet with life.

No life rests here now;

what life could survive?

The Effervescent Bumblebee

The Effervescent Bumblebee
E. Holland

A beautiful blur of black and yellow

Flashes by, colors of Wiz Kalifah's Bugatti

Rendering my mind helpless to the

Charms of my bewinged buddy