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CATEGORY: Essay
CATEGORY: Argumentative Essay
“Dreamers make the world go round, while
everyone else is stuck in the same, boring mind set.”
Obviously, it is better to dream big and touch the
stars, than to limit ourselves to “realistic ideas.”
Do you really think that the idea of sending a
man to the moon was a realistic goal? No, absolutely
not! One dreamer had the idea and everyone else
said that it
was crazy,
unrealistic,
and
impossible.
But we did
it! We put a
man on the
moon, all
because one
dreamer defied the limits and expectations of others.
Others may argue that it is better to be
realistic so you don’t end up hurt, but they are
wrong. By never dreaming big, you never try, and
by never trying, you never succeed. In the Disney
film, “The Princess and the Frog,” we see an African
American girl dreaming of owning her own
restaurant in a time when men ruled the world and
African Americans were poor. By the end, this
dreamer achieves her goals by working hard to
prove everyone wrong.
Being realistic only limits our possibilities,
so it is crystal clear that dreaming big and chasing
your dreams is better. So dream big, invent
something, try something new, and go see the world.
But above all, spread your wings and touch the stars.
Angelique Marie Morales – 10th grade
Teacher- Lisa Gonzalez
“Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.”
-Louis L’Amour
Literary Anthology
Dreamers Rule the World
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CATEGORY: Short Story
“Taps”
It’s been days without sleep; that damned
tapping won’t stop. I follow the source of
the noise up the wall and to the middle of
the ceiling. The tapping starts up when I
lay my head down. It starts off softly, but
as the night goes on, progresses to loud
thumping. By morning it quiets to a stop,
but by then it’s too late to sleep. I have to
go to my daily lectures. And this is the way
my life has been, like clockwork.
But I’ve had enough, with coffee in one
hand and an ax in the other, I prep for
war. I sit at the edge of my bed, gripping
my weapon of choice tight, waiting,
listening for any sound possible--ready to
pounce at the wall.
The tapping starts up again like usual. In
a fit of anger and rage I raise the ax over
my head and swing hard. I thought I had
heard it scramble away, so I followed it up
the wall swinging once more.
Missing my target, but not quite done yet,
I yank the ax out of the ceiling. And for the
last time, swinging hard. . . I hit my
target. A pain-filled scream rang in my
ears shaking me from my trance.
Pulling the now-stained blade out of the
wall, I noticed that my “misses” were
actually right on target.
A bright crimson color pooled over my
floor.
It suddenly clicked; I live in an apartment
complex . . .
Anthony M. Wagner – 9th grade
Teacher- Andrea Webb
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CATEGORY: Short Story
My Fair Love Be Gone
There she sat as stiff as a tree on a windy
stormy night such as the one today.
She stared at the painting in front of her.
Her emerald green eyes were glossy from the
tears that threatened to spill. Her long faded,
raven-colored hair was messy and knotted as it
clung to her sweat drenched forehead and neck.
Her brow furrowed. Her lips quivered as small
whimpers escaped from her throat. Her once sun
tanned skin was now a winter pale white--the same
color as her night gown. Her slender fingers held a
brush that was drowning in brown thick paint. She
breathed a shaky breath as she stared at the
canvas in front of her.
His beautiful curly chestnut hair resembled
chocolate shavings on a cream pie. His smooth tan
skin and rock like features resembled that of a fine
Italian sculpture. His smile could make you melt
like a stick of butter on a hot summer day. His
chocolate brown eyes were so sweet they could
fatten you up with one glimpse. The wet paint
shone from the light of the red hot flames in the
fireplace.
Thunder sounded through the sky with
lightning striking down on earth. She flinched at
the sound causing her hand to create a messy
colorful streak of wet paint over his hairline. She
gasped. Another mistake made to him which was
her fault.
She closed her eyes remembering the day
his life had gone to the sky.
On that day, she had spoken words as
harsh as a strike to the face. She remembered so
well, being filled with fuming rage and hate when
she found out that he had been with an innocent
fawn whose looks were much more superior than
hers. He had spoken of his mistake saying he
would never betray her again. But alas, she had no
more trust in him.
Broken and defeated, she was about to
strut away but halted and turned around when she
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saw a bright flash of light strike upon her dear.
She stared as his body went limp as he fell to the
cold wet ground.
Oh how she so regretted that day. She
had been much too harsh and strict on him. Her
words were like a mirror breaking into small sharp
pieces that cut and tear. She could never forgive
herself for her cruel actions that day. He was
gone for good.
She slowly opened her eyes as salty, bitter
tears fell like two waterfalls. She gritted her teeth
in anger. Why him?! Why not her instead?!
She flipped a table spilling the contents of
paint and water. She fixated her eyes upon the
mess as it started to form a picture. The orange
and yellow formed a staggered line shooting down
at what seemed to be a person. She stared at her
masterpiece feeling his piercing brown eyes staring
intensely at her. His serious look scared the poor
girl. All she felt was regret, fear, and intense fiery
red hot anger. Screaming in agony, she ran
outside letting the cold icy rain hit against her frail
skin leaving small pink marks. Her hair was now
drenched, making her look like a murderous
psychotic widow.
She looked up at the dark blue, velvet star-
lit sky with dancing streaks of white light. She
yelled out till her heart’s content. She was filled
with pain and rage. She ached to join him up in the
sky and become his fair lover again. Oh how she
wanted to be held in his arms like a newborn. She
wanted to be his forever and always, till death do
them part.
Then she felt it.
A surge began running up her spine and
through her body. She swayed side to side. Her
eyes were wide like saucers. Her mouth was agape
as she tumbled to the ground. Her body was
steaming with smoke. She stared blankly at the
sky where her love stood--white and pure--as he
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held out his hand to her. She slowly lifted up from
the ground feeling her energy return. She took his
hand. He pulled her into an embrace. She buried
her face in his chest taking in his sweet pure
essence.
Pulling back, they stared at each other
glowing as bright as the light that halos the moon.
Now she was white and pure as he was.
And now she was forever his fair lover in
the sky, joined together as one at last.
Amber R. Molix – 10th grade
Teacher- Andrea Webb
3rd Place Winner in
District Competition!
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Gone
She was my best friend
So eager to run and play,
Until illness took her away.
She’s gone.
The back yard where we used to play,
There was never a gloomy day.
But now she is gone.
I will never forget the day that she past,
This dreaded day had come at last.
I still can’t believe that she is gone.
Although the pain in my heart of losing her still aches,
Her memory will never break.
She will forever live in my heart
CATEGORY: Poetry
Angelique Marie Morales—10th grade
Teacher- Claudia Recoder
3rd Place Winner in
District Competition!
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CATEGORY: Short Story
Lorelei’s Asperger’s
Bright amber eyes peeked out from beneath a
thick set of darkened lashes; they looked out
expectantly to meet a collection of clashing colors.
Mascara, blush, gloss, and a layer of powder
concealed much of the fresh features of the bearer.
Lorelei felt unbearably strange and queasy as she
sauntered across the small area towards her friends.
Her anxiety did not come from any of the elements in
the place: the faces, the rhythm of the music, or even
the flowers or the twinkling lights adorning the small
venue.
No, her discomfort came from a small word
which progressively nipped at her ear.
Lorelei had not much experience in social
situations prior to this moment; in all truth, it could
be said that any situation of such nature caused her
much fright. This was not new in her life whatsoever.
This particular word, descriptive of her condition,
had plagued many of her earlier memories. It had
been uttered many times by her parents and sister,
then came to stick in her own mind.
As she had been an unnaturally shy girl all of
her life, Lorelei had been psychoanalyzed for all
kinds of self-esteem issues. It was finally decided that
her meek behavior could not be attributed to
insecurities. Her face, figure, and demeanor had all
brought her nothing but praise, and she knew this. No,
the psychologists had finally decided on a logical
diagnosis: Asperger’s.
Truly, only her closest relations had any idea
as to why she behaved in such a reserved way in
social situations. Despite this, they had counseled her
thoroughly regarding her attendance to this particular
party. This was the night of her twenty-third birthday.
Consequently, her sister and friends had decided to
unite and rent a venue in order to celebrate her. How
impertinent would she appear if she proceeded to
decline their invitation? No, too much kindness had
gone into setting up this party. She had no true choice
regarding the matter whatsoever.
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Upon arrival, her hand had been taken quickly by
that of her closest acquaintance —a man of twenty-
four years whom she had met in her first year at
university. George’s manner in receiving her was one
of complete and utter content. Their partiality to each
other had been widely known now to most of their
acquaintance. As a result,
it was natural that he
would be the one to have
the highest honor of greeting her first out of the
group.
“No public displays of affection until after the
meal, please,” came uttered a few moments after
Lorelei and George engaged in a small embrace. The
voice which spoke this had a tone which could not be
mistaken whatsoever. Lorelei caught it as that of her
sister's and turned to regard Yenna and her wife,
Mirna, approaching. These women brought with
them a mood which seemed to instantly triple the
positivity in the room.
With their cheerful greetings and sweet jokes,
they overtook the attention of the birthday girl.
Naturally, George resolved to move back and took his
leave. He proceeded to converse with a few of the
other individuals in attendance at the soiree.
All in all, each approach and conversation seemed
to soothe Lorelei to an extent which she had never
once thought possible; the fact that she was actually
rejoicing in the happiness of those dear to her was
therapeutic even. Her sister
finally pulled her away many
moments after her initial
arrival, to inquire upon her state both mentally and
emotionally. Bright faced and joyful, her reply came
with much ease.
“Oh, yes, yes! Oh, Yenna— I doubt I have felt this
much happiness since our trip to Disney- oh how
long?” This was met with a grand, wide smile from
her sister who resolved to chuckle lightly for her
sister’s flustered nature.
“Yes, yes, Lorie! Ah . . . that one was back when
you were four, no? I do not remember much more
than your squeals and whines on acquiring all that the
shops had to offer!” Her sister teased, and then led
her back to a seat by a large table where everyone was
congregating. Whilst continuing- “I am surprised this
No, her discomfort came from a small word
which progressively nipped at her ear.
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has had that much of an impact on you—all Mirna
and I did was rent this place.” She giggled, leaning
upon the table once they both took their seats.
George took his rightful seat adjacent to Lorelei,
her hand affectionately reaching for his upon doing
so. Small, humorous howls ensued from a kiss he
presented upon her face. A tan-skinned, spunky girl
quieted them down as she,
herself, moved an arm
around Yenna’s shoulder
casually. Her eyes scoured the scene until everyone
gave her a fair amount of silence. Upon which, she
began her address.
“My, one would think we were dining with
animals, no?” Her eyes went jokingly to their shared
peers. “I am glad we are all here—animals or not—to
celebrate the loss of yet another year of my dear in-
law’s life! Now, I do tease but, come on guys, Lorelei
here is a gem unlike any other. Well, perhaps with the
exception of my Yenna here. Lorelei is so kind; she
is hardworking and boy does it ever pay. The food
here was actually cooked all by Mike over there-”
This woman suddenly sprang back to point
accusingly at a quiet guy sat amongst the others.
This one was already beginning to serve himself
from one of the large platters, which Mirna pointed
out that he did indeed have all the right to do so. He’d
earned it, said she. More speeches were begotten by
these as the group began to serve themselves as well.
Each taking a good moment to
honor how much they truly cared
for Lorelei. Being addressed so
openly would have normally proceeded to make her
even more uncomfortable, though for some reason or
another these anxious effects were absent.
Beyond burying her face in the shoulder of the
male companion beside her, at one compliment or
another, her mood never once faltered. ‘Perhaps this
had been the pleasant that so many others had
commented on so many times prior,’ thought she.
All in all, nearly twelve speeches reached the
young woman’s heart that evening. The most tender
ones obviously being those of her closest
acquaintances, but none went forgotten or unheard.
No, the psychologists had finally decided
on a logical diagnosis: Asperger’s.
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Lorelei’s spirits were perhaps higher than she had
ever felt in her adult life.
The word Asperger’s, which had so much troubled
and haunted her prior to this moment, was actually
forgotten in its entirety tonight.
Truly, she was not as outspoken as Mirna, or as
good with words as others around her, but it seemed
evident despite how socially inutile she had felt
herself to be throughout life—she was loved. She was
loved, and she had touched
many lives around her. She
had people who were willing
to take time and money out of their own lives to
please her, people who had no second thoughts about
going about these things either. Her twenty-third
birthday was honestly no interesting thing, and she
certainly did not feel as though the praise she was
receiving was warranted, but these things did not
matter.
In the midst of this simple party, with no more than
seventeen classmates and family members, Lorelei
learned to actually value an aspect of life which she
had never so much as regarded prior. Her mild form
of autism had always impeded her from so much as
attending gatherings. At this one, she managed to
distract her mind and disregard most feelings of
unease. Perhaps it was true that she would never be
able to fully reap the glory of a social situation, but
what did this matter when she could simply coexist
with others within one? The cold truth was that this
young woman was not antisocial, and she was not a
person with a bad attitude. She was as sweet as her
sister and coveted a certain
degree of company in her
life.
The evening was not perfect; her condition did
make her retire herself every so often to the venue
restroom. This was not seen as odd or remarkable in
any sense. Lorelei would proceed to spend a few
moments alone and collect herself before returning to
the others’ company. Always met with smiles, she
would take note of the fact that the people around her
were truly enjoying themselves. They mingled and
spoke amongst each other as they happily dined and
celebrated. Yenna would check up on her state of
being progressively, as a caring sister naturally
The word Asperger’s, which had so much
troubled and haunted her prior to this moment,
was actually forgotten in its entirety tonight.
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should. She was always quite happy to realize that not
only was Lorelei enjoying herself, but it also seemed
this experience would permanently benefit her.
It was a few hours before anyone finally felt
compelled to leave for the night. Lorelei eventually
left in her car with George, who had carpooled with a
couple of his friends prior. Her sister-in-law
delightedly escorted them out of the ornate venue and
into their car. Once on their way, Lorelei was praised
much more by George. He began, in his own way,
with a silly little question.
“May I . . . tell you something, and you won’t
get mad?” Her reply was the same as she habitually
provided for this question, allowing him to proceed.
“I doubted you would show up, at all. I mean, I am
completely happy you did—don’t get me wrong . . .
but, wow. I just, never thought you would.”
“I am offended!” she replied brightly,
chuckling as she teased, “that you know me so well.
Honestly I did not want to come at all.”
Her confession caused him to chuckle lightly, as he
made a turn onto the driveway of her apartment
building.
“I’m proud of tonight,” was his only comment as
he shut off the engine, turning to face Lorelei.
Tiredly, she pressed a small kiss to his cheek and
proceeded to exit the vehicle. A smile overtook her
tired, reasonably makeup-clad face.
“I am too.”
Luisa Simental- 11th grade
Teacher- Andrea Webb
Literary Anthology
Categories:
Argumentative Essay
Expository Essay
Analytical Essay
Short Story
Poetry
Script
Share your writing talent!
See Ms. Webb in C-122 for details.
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CATEGORY: Short Story
She Ran Away
Looking around the house, all the
lights are turned on, and all of her toys
litter the floor. Silence echoes throughout
the halls, and she is nowhere in sight.
“She ran away? I don’t understand;
I gave her everything, but still she is
gone. Did it not even matter how much
affection I had shown? Would the
outcome have changed if I had given
more? No, I doubt it . . . But then what
made her leave?! Will I ever know?”
“No, screaming won’t get her back.
I have to think . . . Wait! Could it be . . .
that she still misses . . . no, no that’s
impossible. Come on . . . think.”
He stops dead in his tracks from
the sharp pain from stubbing his toe.
3rd Place Winner in
District Competition!
Swearing under his breath, something
catches his eye.
“A note?”
He read aloud:
“I HATE YOU!
WHY DID YOU TAKE ME AWAY FROM
MOMMY AND DADDY?
WHY!
I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!
I HATE YOU . . .
I HATE YOU . . . I HATE YOU!”
Those same words, continuing over and
over, covered the entire page as well as
the back. Dumbstruck, he froze. Holding
his breath, and wanting to look away, his
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eyes would not permit it. His eyes darted
left to right reading: “I hate you!” over
and over again.
He snapped.
“It’s your fault!”
His screams rang throughout the
empty halls.
“You were alone on the swings not
a soul watching you! It’s your fault that
you walked up to my van! It’s your fault,
so why do you hate me not yourself?”
He took a deep breath.
Beginning to chuckle a little, he
said, “It’s fine . . . it’s fine. I can always
get another.”
And with that, the door slowly
closes behind him.
Anthony M. Wagner – 9th grade
Teacher- Andrea Webb
Falcons,
we want your
writing!
Bring your work to Ms. Webb in C-122 or submit via email
SPECIFICATIONS:
double-spaced
12 pt. Verdana
Title 14 pt. bold
Your name, grade, and English teacher’s name at the
end of your submission
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X CATEGORY: Poetry
Me, Myself, and I
It doesn’t matter what race I am.
Black, white, Asian or tan.
I am different in my own way.
Just as perfect as the night is from the day.
Short, fat, skinny, or tall.
I am myself after all.
It doesn’t matter what I wear.
I am the girl with a bright glare.
Smart or not, I am what’s hot.
I am the one; X marks the spot.
Sweet as sugar or sour as lemon.
My emotions are like Armageddon.
You can stare at me like I am cold.
Like I may have a solid soul.
You may think I am different.
But I know I’m sufficient.
You can say I have a lot of sass.
That my words can break you like glass.
You can stare, say, or think what you might.
But I know that I am bold and bright.
I may be weak like a stick.
I may be tall like a tree.
I may be dumb as a rock.
I may be blind as a bat.
But if you should know, it’s not all about
that.
I can draw like Leonardo.
I can write like Stephen King.
I can sing like a bird.
Think what you want, but it’s not absurd.
You know me now from the words you just
heard.
You’ll remember these words that I have
said.
But now it’s coming to an end.
So now maybe you can comprehend.
That I am me and that’s what’s said.
I will go on; my future will thrive.
Because I am me,
myself,
and I.
Amber R. Molix – 10th grade
Teacher- Andrea Webb
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CATEGORY: Poetry
Marilyn or Medication?
I Love You or I Loathe You?
Medication.
Medication.
Meda –
Meda –
Medication.
Sweet and slaughtered.
Marilyn.
Now knows how to pop
a top with her flipped
bird and thumb
while Little Baby Mo Rose
counts to three,
as if climbing a staircase
timidly on all fours.
“…one…two…three…”
And big sister amity
feels snappy leather lick her.
Gathering on sympathetic vibrations,
she waits on Little Baby Mo Rose
to chirp.
“…one…two…three…”
Medication.
Medication.
Meda –
Meda –
Medication.
Not a pearl in the inside.
Marilyn.
Slurps expresso in the mourning
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while Little Baby Mo Rose
snickers at the landslide
her mama’s arms have become.
“Again! Again!”
amity knows that ten summers
isn’t much experience
no matter the scorching waves
that tore at her freckles with every curl,
no matter the blisters
that conformed to her equal,
no matter how many times
she was betrayed
by the shadows of the Mister
who knew why it throbbed,
like the wings of a moth
pinned in glass,
between her legs.
But she knows Mo’s requests
are unnecessary.
Medication.
Medication.
Meda –
Meda –
Medication.
Fatherless. Motherless.
Marilyn.
Found her kin in one
and a half fluid ounces
and five hundred milligrams
and plenty of latex rubber.
Little Baby Mo Rose wobbles
to the iron gates
of the bedside as
mama rattles,
the landslide slicing
her pupils.
amity moves one foot
in front of the other
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every three seconds.
“…one…two…three…”
Mo’s chirp swirls into a wail
“…one…two…three?”
Medication.
Medication.
Meda –
Meda –
Medication.
A score and four pointed
rhythm over. Bingo
Marilyn.
Looks into her daughter’s eyes.
“I Lo –”
The silence whispers
to the mattress to
swallow the body whole.
The springs think the Mister
has returned for amity,
feeling awfully lonely.
Amaris Henderson—11th grade
Teacher- Theresa Ambriz
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CATEGORY: Short Story
My Nightmare Rose
She was beautiful. She was outstanding. Yet
she was dark with no emotion. She . . . was a
nightmare rose. Her appearance was almost like a
goddess. Her hair was almost as dark as her soul and
her sharp hazel eye could look through you like
glass and pierce your
innocent soul. And I was her
godly sun of life and lust.
It all started on that
summer day when my life
came to an end.
I met her in the garden where Lily and I used
to spend most of our time. The sound of perfect
silence was so peaceful you could just fall asleep
right then and there on the grass. She stood under
the blossom tree blankly staring at me. She smiled
when we made eye contact. She walked over to
and held out her hand as a greeting. That’s how our
friendship began.
Our relationship was as healthy as the green
grass in summer. We acted as if we had been friends
ever since the first
grade—well, that’s how I
saw it. But to her, we were the colors blue and red
yet to make purple. I had no idea what that meant,
so I pushed the thought aside thinking that she was
just joking around. Boy was I wrong, like the
weather man saying it was gonna snow in July.
Dead wrong.
Winter came along, and it was nothing but
pure, torturous, bitter freezing cold winds that beat
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you in the face. It was almost as if the wind was
telling me something: that SHE was cold and bitter.
That she was soon to make me feel dull and numb
all over. Who is she? What are her true feelings
towards me?
Spring came at last and her actions were
becoming demanding and harsh. Like a bee sucking
pure nectar from a flower until it becomes wilted
and vulnerable.
And that’s exactly what she was doing to me.
Every time we went out, she’d cling to my
arm tightly as if trying to say I was her property. She
would go through my phone at every opportunity
she thought I wouldn’t notice! I thought: When will
she leave me and my personal belongings alone?!
I’VE HAD IT! I couldn’t take it anymore!
She wouldn’t stop her evil sins and wrong doings!
She had gone too far now. One time she broke into
my house and rearranged everything. The kitchen
knives were missing and the pictures of my
deceased wife and I were burnt and spread all over
the floor in my room. To make things even worse,
she carved hidden messages behind my bed. One
read: “you’re my personal property now!” The worst
part was located under that text. It read, “She was
never good for you. So she got stabbed and went out
with a bang and died in a patch of lilies”
My stomach dropped . . . I couldn’t believe
what I had read . . . stab and a bang. But why? Why
did she kill her?
I called her later that night. I told her to meet
me in the garden; I said it was urgent and that I
needed to see her face right away. I thought: this
demon shall be gone forever. Tonight . . . she shall
pay for her sins.
There she stood, under that same tree like the
day we first met. She was dressed in a black silk
lacey dress with her hair down and curled.
“So, you did come after all my dear?” I
spoke, holding out my hand as she grasped it firmly.
“Of course, you sounded so desperate to see
me,” she said with a smile.
I couldn’t help to think: how disgusting, you
filthy pathetic piece of trash.
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“I needed to see your beautiful evil face
again. Not one day as in never have I forgotten your
sickening beauty.”
I pulled her close with our noses barley
touching. There was a tint of red on her cheeks. My,
my, she’s sensitive to romance, isn’t she? How naïve
you are, my dear.
“Today shall be the last day we see each
other.”
“What do you me . . .“
I stabbed her swiftly in the stomach. I
watched her face whiten.
“Oh no, you can’t die yet . . . not without a
bang,” and I shot her in the chest, piercing her heart.
She fell to the ground, lying in a patch of
roses. I kneeled down and put a rose on her stomach
and placed her hands on the stem.
“This is familiar isn’t it? This is how Lily
died . . . now this is how you’ll die. But you won’t
be missed.” I got up and started walking off in the
distance.
“Goodbye forever . . . my nightmare rose.”
Amber R. Molix – 10th grade
Ms. Andrea Webb