Echoes 2011-12

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

1/50

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

2/50

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

3/50

EchoesTwo Thousand and Twelve

KrakenHannah Pierangelo

The Independent School8317 E. Douglas

Wichita, KS 67207316.686.0152

www.theindependentschool.com

Two Thousand and Twelve

Graphic Editing by Ryan Malone

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

4/50

Table of Contents

Juxtaposition

Poema Numero 20Streetlights

The Brightest Days

Im Not Sure I Can Forgive You

Covered Fortress

Bubbles

Under Your Wings

Childhood InnocenceSmooth Jazz

The Bard

Quirks

What Dreams Are Made Of

SlippersContradiction

Rack City (Panther Basketball)

Fab Five

Mis Palabras

KIA

August Woman

Thoughts on Thoughts

Point of View

Sunbather

iSpeakGirl

For The First TimeTime Lock

Sleepless

Eye of London

The Last Cow Standing

Veni Vidi Vici

London Calling

The Lost Hope of Love

Summer Roses

Ryan Malone

Madeline LevelSam McCoy

Viktor LaFaveHannah Pierangelo

Glenn CoxBen Cartwright

Jessica FisherCassie Heflin

Ashlyn GagneMackenzie Cole

Samantha CarterMackenzie Cole

Mackenzie ColeSamantha Carter

Christian PorterZach Tuttle

Mackenzie ColeSam McCoy

Mackenzie ColeDanielle Allen

Samantha CarterCassie Heflin

Samantha Carter

Samantha CarterRyan Malone

Hannah PierangeloJennifer Steere

Morgan SchreinerMadeline Level

Samantha CarterMorgan Schreiner

Rachel DeMyers

Award Winners:Essays Art

First, My Reality by Ashley Brosius

Runner Up, Strings of Confidence byCassie Heflin

First, Koi Fish by Leah Davis

runner up, Childhood Innocenceby Cassie Heflin

1

23

3

4

4

7

8

8

9

9

10

11

11

13

14

14

15

15

15

16

16

17

18

1819

19

19

20

ii Echoes

21

21

22

22

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

5/50

Hannah Pierangelo

Brian WiseRyan Malone

Nicole FoxTori Ciniglio

Dylan HernandezMackenzie Cole

Ahmad YassineMadeline Level

Braydon BarnesSamantha Carter

Mackenzie ColeMorgan Schreiner

Jessica FisherCassie Heflin

Glenn CoxJessica Fisher

Hannah PierangeloSam McCoy

Ashlyn GagneNicole Fox

Leah DavisDanielle Allen

Sam Wiley

Samantha CarterMadeline Level

Mackenzie ColeMorgan Schreiner

Emily VaydaAshley BrosiusMackenzie Cole

Madeline LevelBraydon Barnes

An Epic Quest

Speak Now: Swifts Life in MusicMasquerade

Green

Winded Purple

Failure

Beauty/Terror

Orb of the Nebula

The House of Targess

Lunar Vista

Storm

Reflection

Panther 5-0

PaintingStrings of Confidence

Day Fading

My Voice

Dave Strauchman

Daisy for Her

Arina Tanemura

Katie

Koi FishOccasionally

Nailed It

Lucky ThirteenWalk to the Sea

I Am Calling Out to You

On the Bench...Mr. Bill

My RealityUrban Melting Pot

A World So WickedPlanetary

Table of Contents

Short Stories PoetryAward Winners:

First, A World So Wickedby Madeline Level

Runner Up, Smooth Jazz by Ashlyn Gagne

First, On the Bench... by morgan schreiner

Runner Up, An Epic Questby Hannah Pierangelo

23

2424

25

2526

26

26

27

28

29

2930

31

31

31

3232

33

33

34

35

36

36

3737

38

39

40

41

Two Thousand and Twelve ii

41

42

42

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

6/50

Ryan Malone

Juxtaposition

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

7/50

Puedo escribir los versos ms tristes esta noche.

Escribir, por ejemplo: La noche est estrellada,

y tiritan, azules, los astros, a los lejos

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.


Yo la quise, y a veces ella tambin me quiso.

En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos.

La bes tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo tambin la quera.

Cmo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.


Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Or la noche inmensa, ms inmensa sin ella.

Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el roco.

Que importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.

La noche est estrellada y ella no est conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.

Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.

Mi corazn la busca y ella no est conmigo.La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos rboles,

Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuanto la quise.

Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su odo.

De otro. Ser de otro. Como antes de mis besos.

Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.

Es tan corto el amor y tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como sta la tuve entre mis brazos,

mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque ste sea el ltimo dolor que ella me causa,

y stos sean los ltimos versos que yo le escribo.

I can write the saddest lines tonight.

Write, for example, The night is starry,

And blue heavens quiver far away.

The night wind circles in the sky and sings.


I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me as well.

On nights such as this, I held her in my arms.

I kissed her again and again under the infinite sky.

She loved me, and sometimes I loved her as well.

How could someone not have loved her grey eyes?


To think that I dont have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the vast night, even more vast without her.

The line falls to my soul like dew in a field.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her?

The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That is all. Someone is singing far away. Far away.

My soul is not content, knowing it has lost her,

My imagination tries to find her, and bring her close to me.

My heart searches for her, and she is not with me.The same night whitens the same trees.

We, of that time, are not the same anymore.

I dont love her anymore, that is true, but oh how I loved her.

My voice searches on the wind to touch her ears,

Another. She will be anothers. And she was anothers before my

kisses.

Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I dont love her anymore, that is true, but I might love her.

Life is so short. Forgetting is so long.

Because on nights such as this, I held her in my arms.

My soul is not content knowing it has lost her.

But make this the last pain that she does cause me,

And the last line I write for her.

Poema Numero 20By Pablo Neruda

Translated by Madeline Level

Two Thousand and Twelve 2

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

8/50

The streetlights tower above the lonely commuters.

Their dim lights guide the walkers on their path.Above the lights, the skyscrapers stand in solitude,

Each holding its own.

As the traffic whizzes by,

A man sits at a street side table

Sipping his coffee.

He thinks, What have I done to deserve this!

The executive looks out upon the city below

Asking, What have I done with all those reports?

The factory laborer walks his way home,

Struggling to make ends meet for his wife and child.

He worries, How will I make it this month?

As people bustle in and out of stores and malls,

The homeless man sits and cries,

Wondering, What have I done to deserve this?

Alone.

Just like the streetlights.

StreetlightsSam McCoy

The Brightest DaysViktor LaFave

3 Echoes

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

9/50

Im Not Sure I Can Forgive YouHannah Pierangelo

Lights were ickering. They were

bright white uorescent lights, but they ick-

ered like candles. A circuit breaker popped

loudly, and light exploded like a grenade.

Everything disappeared into white.

Then black. Glowing black, sharp as a

knife, edged its way in. It erased all thought,

all memory, all senses as something

screeched at an impossible decibel.

............

Wake up, a distant voice yelled. Youre

okay, just wake up!

My eyes shot open to the bright light again,

and an unnatural and unsettling screeching.

The voice came again, but closer.

Its okay, it said calmly, just as my brain

registered that the unnatural screaming was

erupting from my own strained throat. As

soon as I realized it, my voice choked and si-

lenced itself immediately. The only sounds

now were my lungs pumping hard for breath

and my frantic gasps for air. But just under it

all, my ears detected a faint beeping.

Bad dreams? the voice asked. I glanced

up next to me to see a boy lying in a bed

beside me. A bandage was wrapped around

his head over something dark staining his

skin just above his right eyebrow. His face

looked exhausted, but a lively ember glowed

within his sea-glass green eyes, even though

they were sunk slightly into his cavernous

sockets. He did not look well.

Bits and pieces of my surroundings began

to register in my brain, like the clear plas-

tic tube in his arm and the matching one

in mine. The beige blankets on our similar

twin beds, the blue curtain pushed back

between us, and that incessant beeping in

the background. A hospital. By the rush of

young ladies in pastel colored scrub suits, I

figured it was an emergency room.

Yes, I think, I answered the boy. All

I could remember was light and dark. That

didnt seem like it would be such a night-

mare now that I had come back to reality

but something about it was deathly frighten

ing.

Its these meds, I swear. Theyll mess

with your head, he answered lightly. I no

ticed that he was tapping his fingers back

and forth quietly against his leg. My name

is Ferris, by the way.

Jersey, I replied automatically. I would

have extended my hand, but our beds were

separated by an expanse of about four feet

I stayed where I was.

So what happened to you? I noticed

him glancing at my legs. My eyes followed

his gaze, but my legs looked fine beneath

the blanket. In fact, my entire body looked

fine.

An empty silence crept into the conversa

tion. I parted my lips to answer him, but re

alized I did not have one. My mouth closed

again. What had happened to me?

Ferris must have noticed the blank stare

Covered FortressGlenn Cox


8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

10/50

my face.

Dont you remember? he asked. The

rolling of his fingers against his leg stopped.

Something sunk deep in my stomach and all

I could do was shake my head helplessly.

Suddenly brimming with water, my eyes

glanced up to the ceiling in a valiant effort

to keep from blinking hot tears down my

cheeks. I shuffled my feet to attempt a state

of comfort

I shuffled

My feet did not move. An icy shiver

erupted over my skin and I couldnt make

a sound. Move, I begged them. Move. The

brain signals were sent out, but lost in trans-

mission. They faded out somewhere along

the way, and my legs would not move.

I cant I tried to speak, but found thatmy throat was tight. I cant

Hey, hey, its okay. Youll remember

eventually, he soothed.

I shouted over him, I cant feel my

legs.

There was only silence then, except for

the relentless beeping of the monitor be-

tween us. Ferris was staring blankly at me.

We sat in the quiet like that until I could not

keep the tears from falling, and Ferris called

out in a broken voice for a nurse.

............

Flickering stars. No, not stars. They werebigger. Candles? Lightbulbs? They lit up

an indescribable black backdrop. Streaks.

Flashes. A scream.

I awoke in an empty garden. The soft

trickling of water could be heard in the short

distance, like the gentle drip of a sink into a

pond. I was sitting in a wheelchair in the cen-

ter of this garden, surrounded by ripe lemon

trees. There was a short pathway made of

stone to the entrance arch. On it read, The

Lincoln and Bishop Garden for Patience. I

knew this garden. It was located in the center

of the hospital, and was a room made out of

glass and filled with beautiful plants. It was

meant for the long-term hospital patients to

get some sunlight. Sometimes when the sky-

light windows were open, which was a rare

occurrence, a breeze of fresh air would blow

through the leaves and it was almost like be-

ing outside.

Almost, only because the distinct smell

of disinfectant and medicine lingered in the

filtered air, and the ever constant beeping of

machines could still be heard.

I didnt remember ever falling asleep. But

the nurse had wheeled me off to the operat-

ing room when I realized my legs were not

connected to my body anymore.

The damage to your spine is worse than

we anticipated, the nurse told me earlier.

There was a heavy white brace wrapped

around my torso and making it impossible

for me to sit comfortably in my wheelchair. I

had become a plank from the waist up, and

a vegetable from the waist down. I wiggled

my toes. Nothing, still.

A grim voice grasped the corners of my

mind. Trapped, it whispered. Youll be con-ned to this chair forever

No. Theyll fix me, I reassured myself.

Theyll fix me.

Behind the trees, I could hear a sudden

but gentle and quite rapid thumping. It was

not quite clicking, but similar. Something

was tapping against the stone walk. I pushed

my wheelchair forward, and peeked around

the tree trunks and branches. Just on the

other side, sitting on a stone bench, was Fer-

ris. He was tapping his foot speedily, prob-

ably out of nervous habit.

Youre awake, he said when he noticedme at the trees edge. I nodded.

I noticed the small bandage was still on

his forehead from the emergency room,

but the rest of him seemed fine. His light

colored hair hung over the bandage, and it

would probably hide his scar well, once it

had healed. He was wearing street clothes

now, instead of the distasteful hospital at-

tire that might as well have been a prison

jumpsuit.

How are you feeling? He asked shyly.

Im okay, I guess. They gave me a back

brace.

Its supposed to help with the spine

damage. I asked the nurse about it. Ferris

let his foot rest at last, and then his fingers

took up a tapping. Do you remember what

happened? he asked.

An image of my recurring nightmare

flashed in my head. Flashes of light.

I remember lightning. But thats all, I

told him.

Lightning, yeah. He was suddenly

wringing his hands, pushing the blood to

his fingertips, and squeezing his palms. He

seemed nervous as he tried to explain. I

was a pretty bad storm. You were driving a

nightlook, Jersey. Im so sorry.

What do you mean?

The nurse said that you might never walk

again.

His words hit me like a train, and the dark

shadowy voice whispered again. Trapped. I

was right. I would be trapped in this chair

for the rest of my life.

With nothing more to say, Ferris stood

up and began to leave.Where are you going? I asked.

They released me this morning. I just

wanted to apologize before I left. With

that, he turned on his heel and left me alone

in the gardenand the scent of the lemons

was almost too much to bear.

............

Theyre putting me in therapy. The doc

tors are trying anything to regain function in

my legs. No one will come out and say it

like Ferris did, but I know the truth. I know

that disheartening sentence at the tip o

everyones tongues. My wheelchair knowsit too.

I go to the garden everyday now. Ive

memorized its small layout in my mind and

discovered that it is nothing more than a

glass box. The plants are pretty and aromat

ic to keep the sickly patients here hopeful

But there is not much hope in a lonely lem

on tree. No one picks the lemons. No one

prunes the roses. The plants here just grow

and wilt and die. Then they are replaced.

The lemon trees are hearty. They live

longer than the roses, a voice said behind

me as I watched a hired gardener dig up a

brown and papery rose bush.

Ferris? What are you doing here? I

asked confusedly.

I dont really know. I guess I though

I should see how you were doing. It had

been a couple weeks since he was released

Im Not Sure I Can Forgive You | Hannah Pierangelo

5 Echoes

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

11/50

I was surprised that he came back

but grateful.

Im all right, I told him. I have to have

therapy. Theyre trying to make them work

again. We both knew what I was talking

about. I did not need to explain.

Maybe it will help, he answered. It was

an awfully strong maybe, but I nodded in

agreement.

Maybe.

Ferris sat down on the stone bench

next to me, gently jostled his knees, and

we watched the gardener work. I think Fer-

ris liked it here. It was the closest thing to

solitude in a bustling hospital with sick and

injured people going in and out every day.

This was something steady. This was some-

thing sure.I could only enjoy the peace for a fleet-

ing moment before a nurse stole me away

to run tests.

............

Sit still. Hold still. Dont move. Dont

speak. Dont wear metal. Close your eyes.

Hold still. Calm down. Its okay. This wont

last long, I promise. Sit still.

Still was the only choice I had. The

nurses ran a multitude of tests over my frail

body. Needles pierced my skin, machines

scanned my body, but nothing would come

of it. I could not feel it in my bonesthatshow I knew there was no hope of getting my

legs back.

I was so sick of sitting utterly, utterly

still.

............

It was raining today. The air felt colder,

the walls looked grayer. For once, the cur-

tains on the window were drawn, but they

only revealed a gloomier scene than the one

inside. I almost did not want to look outside,

but considering it was a rare opportunity, I

forced my eyes to stay.

This place gave me a stomachache. The

food was miserable, the drugs were miser-

able, my mood was miserable. To make

it worse, I had dreamt last night. Full and

thorough dreams regarding lightning and

horrible screams revived the whole buried

memory of what happened a month ago. A

hauntingly familiar face was burned in my

vision. Every time I blinked, I saw a deep

brush of blood across his forehead as he

struggled behind a layer of shattered glass.

I did not want to talk about it. Not with

anyone.

A nurse came in, cheery faced and bright.

I only asked her to wheel me to the garden.

............

The Lincoln and Bishop Garden for

Patience was quiet. I was out here alone for

once. The lemons were growing overripe

on the tree, but I knew no one would pick

them. They would become heavy and weigh

down the branches instead, turn brown and

soft, and then fall at last to be swept up by

the cleaning crew. I dont know why I cared

so much about the lemons.I stared at the blank beige blanket draped

over my knees. It hid their disfigure well. It

hid their lack of color. But it was best at hid-

ing their lack of life. I sighed, re-tucking the

edges beneath my useless flesh so that the

corners would not get caught in the wheels

of my chair.

It was an accident, I had to remind my-

self. Could happen to anyone. Its difficult

to drive in a storm when the roads are flood-

ed and the thunder is unexpected. When

your heart is pounding in your ears because

its dark and youre lost, and suddenly thelightning runs the red light at a dark and de-

serted intersection.

Accidents happen all the time.

But I knew it was not lightning that col-

lided into me in the middle of the night

with the force of a ton or two. And I knew

it was not a coincidence that the boy I woke

up next to in the emergency was nervously

tapping his fingers away and trying to make

small conversation with me.

Ferris visited often now. At first all he

could say was, Im so sorry. At least he

came. Though sometimes neither of us

spoke, it was never quiet. There was always

something quivering the in the background.

That was enough.

Ferris wasnt here now. I had grown used

to his constant typewriter tapping and the

soft mumbling of his voice, and without his

small noises it was abnormally quiet.

I wanted to tap my own feet to make up

for the silence. But I couldnt.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

I could tap my fingers but not my feet

Tap faster, like Ferris. Tap slower, to think

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

I guess I wanted to get inside his head

Ferris was a boy who couldnt be still. He

was alwaysmoving. Tapping his finger or

his foot. Jostling his knees. Swinging his

arms. Cracking his knuckles. He changed

positions way too many times in a conversa

tion.

The kid had too much energy. Every mo

mentI swear you could see the potentia

energy building. It bubbled inside of him

and was forced to trickle out through his fingertips. Like all the force of a lake trapped

by a dam, only allowed to flow through a

pin-hole crack in the concrete. There was

never any silence around him, always some

sort of noise.

Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap.

It was amazing, because no matter how

much Ferris moved, he could never expend

his energy. It was always there, just below

the surfacejet fuel in his blood.

Maybe it was restlessness.

It sounded more like guilt.

............Days passed. Weeks. I feel like have been

here forever. I looked at a calendar and real

ized it was just over a hundred days. Ferris

still visited, but those visits were fewer now

and further in between it seemed. There

could only be one explanation for that. I fel

sort of sad at the thought. It was a bit ironic

wasnt it? He had crippled me, and now i

appeared that guilt was crippling him.

Good news, Jersey! the cheerful nurse

reappeared. The doctors have finished

running all of their tests, and your last thera

py session was yesterday. Youll be released

as soon as your doctor signs off. Her smile

was increasingly beaming as she picked up a

clipboard at the end of the bed and hurried

out of the room.

I nodded to myself. Good news, defi



8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

12/50


nitely. In a few hours I could finally leave.

I wouldnt have to worry about therapy ses-

sions or MRI tests, or flashback dreams, or

stale lemons. Or ugly beige coloredevery-

thing.

I could finally breathe.A tug of guilt pulled through me, though.

I hadnt seen Ferris in a week. He did not

know when I was going to be released. And

I had no way of contacting him outside the

visiting hours of the hospital. I couldnt say

goodbye.

Or hello, even. We had become friends

in a way. A horrible accident had brought

him into my life, but now he would disap-

pear from it again just as quickly. I didnt

even have a choice in the matter.

The nurse popped back in.

I found your sweater out in the Gardenfor Patients. She stepped in and laid it

on the bed. A slight frown came over her

face. Hospital patients that is. Not like the

virtue, patience. You know what I mean.

She smiled again, and shrugged it off so she

could help me into my wheelchair.

Patience is a virtue; the old adage skimmed

my thoughts at her mentioning it. Yes, I sup-

pose it was.

My mother was waiting for me in the hall-

way, and walked alongside me as the nurse

wheeled me to the elevator. It was a com-

forting thought to know that this was the last

time I would have to ride this elevator with

this nurse in this hospital for a long time.Though I was not able to gain feeling my

legs again and the doctors were unable to

fix me, I was not afraid. It is what it is. The

concept of time had never been much of a

priority thought for me, but it was growing

to be. A moment had changed my life. A

person had helped me through it. Here I

was, forced to face the changes. Forced to

adapt. And I was probably never going to

see him again.

At the ding of the elevator, the shiny

chrome doors opened to a busy waiting

room. My mother signed a slip of paper,

and then took over the handles of my wheel-

chair from the nurse.

Ferris didnt know when I was going to be

released. Maybe he would try to visit again.

Maybe he wouldnt.

Nurse? I asked, before she walked back

to the elevator. She turned on her heel to

answer my question. I dont know if Ferris

is coming back, but if he does, I paused.

The words I needed to say were going to

take more courage than I had been able to

muster in the last four months, but some

how, he needed to hear them. I only hoped

my message could be relayed. I continued.

If he does, tell him that I forgive him.............

It was a particularly ordinary day. Decem

ber 18th, as my calendar showed. The air

was cold, undeniably, but my mother had

rested my navy sweater about my shoulder

and it was a short distance to the parking lot

she assured me. I could see my breath when

I exhaled into the air. Each breath was cold

and crisp and tasted just like winter. Mos

wonderful was the fact that it was fresh. Hos

pital air was stale in comparison, and the sky

through that glass aquarium in the garden

had never been the same color.The automatic doors of the hospita

closed with a sleekshhh, cutting off all the

noise of movement and incessant beeping

monitors. I heard my mothers footsteps on

the pavement behind me, and the slick roll

ing of the rubber wheels over the concrete

All else was quiet.

Blissfully, beautifully quiet.

BubblesBen Cartwright

7 Echoes

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

13/50

Daddy, you took me under your wings

Can you show me how

To climb a tree

To ride a bicycle

To pass a football?


Can you show me how

To say funny jokes

To make friends

To do a math problem?

Daddy, you took me under your wingsCan you show me how

To pick out cute clothes

To put on make-up

To stand up for myself?


Can you show me how

To be happy

To find the right boy

To search for success?

Daddy, you took me under

your wings

You showed me how

To never cheat

To never lie

To never quit

Daddy, under your

wings, you showed me

how

To live

To love

To fly with my dreams

Under Your WingsJessica Fisher

ChildhoodInnocence

Cassie HeflinTwo Thousand and Twelve 8

Runner Up

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

14/50

Smooth JazzSound

The sweet soundOf music being played on Main Street

Draws people from the heatTo hear the sound of jazz flowing

SmoothAnd so soothes

The worried minds of those who listenUnder stars that glisten

People sway to songs the poor manWrote

With his coatDamp with sweat he plays his sorrows til

His hat on the ground fills

Then he will find a place to sleepSound

The sweet soundOf harmonies faint yet oh so close

All using their own proseJoining and disjoining all night

LongAnd the song

Fades its sweet soft melody changesAs they turn their pages

Of sheet music, this is smooth jazz

Ashlyn Gagne

The Bard, Mackenzie Cole

9 Echoes

Runner Up

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

15/50

1. I bite my nails. I know its gross. I know its dirty. But, alas, I continue to chew as if my life depended on it.

2. I sleep on my stomach. I cant sleep any other way. Believe me, Ive tried. Except on occasion, a side approach works.

3. I pull on my earlobes when I get stressed or angry. I recently discovered this through volleyball tapes. On a side note, I reallyhope the myth that the camera adds ten pounds is true.

4. Im fairly superstitious. During sports, I think that a certain hair tie or sports bra will help me play better. So far I have no

actual proof that this works. Yet, here I am, wearing the same hair tie every time I throw at a track meet.

5. I am a complete arsehole when Im hungry. Low blood sugar is not my friend, or yours. I will go to great lengths to find

food. And you should probably go to the same lengths, maybe greater, to prevent me from eating your hand.

6. I tap the tops of soda cans before I open them. Im fairly sure this does absolutely nothing, but its just a reflex at this point.

7. I will not, I repeat, I will not shower at night when no one is home. Its a weird phobia. If Im going to be murdered by an

intruder, I will be murdered fully clothed.

8. I organize my closet by color. Rainbow order.

9. I only organize the clothes in my closet. My shoes are utterly hopeless.

10. I dont let my dog sleep on my bed. The dog hair grosses me out.

11. I only let my old dog Palmer sleep on my bed. He was my baby. I use the term baby loosely because he was a Great

Dane. Quite large.

12. I am pretty sure Im addicted to Chap Stick. I swear, I apply the stuff like once every ten minutes. I think its becoming a

problemnot that I really care.

13. I knee drive. Im pretty sure I could compete in some sort of knee driving competition and win. Knee driving down Cen-

tral? I could probably do it in my sleep but not really.

14. I tap my feet when Im getting ready to do something athletic. It kind of gets me ready to go. I would venture to say its

easier to do than to explain.

15. I have to be wearing my watch at all times. Okay, well not at all times because thats not possible really, but I have to wear it

any time I can. Ever since the Europe trip, a wrist watch has become essential.

16. I tear 98% of my food before I eat it. I have no idea why, but it always happens.

17. I used to gag every time I ate vegetables. Well, I still do sometimes. I know its gross, but vegetables are grosser.

18. I cuss like a sailor. It can get a little out of control sometimes. My mom used to do it, so I figure maybe its hereditary.

19. I am a perfectionist, yet I am a procrastinator. Its sort of counterproductive if you think about it.

20. I am awful at conclusions.

QuirksSamantha Carter


8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

16/50

PETER: Hey guys! Im Peter. And Im here to tell you a little story. I like to call it Heroic Times and Dashing Deeds- Also known as

the Peter Samson story. Okay, so maybe my life isnt so fantastic to warrant that kind of title. But there is still something a bit...

different about my life. You see, it all started when I was about 12....

(Enter YOUNG PETER)

PETER: Well here I am! 12 year old, prepubescent me. I was basically your average sixth grader. I played basketball, got okay grades,

started liking girls. Except there was one quirk I liked to keep hidden. I loved musicals. The moment I came home from school, I

would run up to my room and let the sounds of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Rogers and Hammerstein fill my brain. What can I

say, I loved it! Musicals had always been a big part of my life, but that role grew exponentially on one fateful day...

YOUNG PETER: WOAH! What is this!

PETER: So bear with me on this... One day some fancy lamp showed up in my room. To this day I have no clue where it came from.

So, like any kid, my gut instinct was to.....

(YOUNG PETER rubs lamp. GENIE enters, wearing gold chains, slightly resembling an Italian gangster, has a Jersey accent.)

YOUNG PETER: IT WORKED!

GENIE: Of course it worked, kid. What did you expect when you freaking rubbed the lamp? That doves would fly out? A rabbit

would appear?

YOUNG PETER: I dont know... I just didnt think this would happen!

GENIE: Well it did. So now Im here. So what do you want, kid? Whats your wish?

YOUNG PETER: My wish? Hey..... arent I supposed to get three wishes? Are you trying to rip me off?

GENIE: Do I look like Im made of money? We are in a recession! My magic wallet is a little tight right now; everyones trying to cut

back. So either be grateful that Im even here in this dump and make your wish, or Ill leave! Im fine either way!

YOUNG PETER: No no no!!! I want you to stay! I just.... Can I have a moment to think?

GENIE: Sure. Take all the time you need. But not really. You got 30 seconds, kid. Think fast.

PETER: So there I was, faced with the biggest decision yet in all my twelve years. And naturally, I wished for what every young boy

dreamed of.

YOUNG PETER: I wish that my life could be a musical!

GENIE: Well alright then. Its your wish! Alakazam! Ka-pow! Shamalamadingdong! Whatever...

(GENIE exits.)

YOUNG PETER: Cooooooool! I wonder... (starts to sing) The hills are alive....

(VOICES can be heard as SINGER ONE and SINGER TWO enter stage.)

SINGERS: With the sound of music!

SlippersMackenzie ColeWhat Dreams Are Made Of

Mackenzie Cole

11 Echoes

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

17/50

YOUNG PETER: No way!!! This is awesome! I even have backup singers!

SINGER ONE: Excuse me? Backup? No way brother, we are all equally important!

SINGER TWO: Well, you two might be equal, but we all know that I am the star!

PETER: And so that was that! I was on my way to music heaven. Although I soon came to realize that I was not totally in control of

my singing friends. I learned that they would appear sometimes when I just spoke the words to a song, and it didnt even have to be

a musical. My wish is a bit of a blessing and a curse. When Im with family and friends, its great fun. We sing and laugh together,

and it makes for entertainment at parties. Its when Im with people that dont know my situation as well that things get a little

hinky. Ive learned over the years to watch my phraseology to avoid a spontaneous song at all possible, but every once and a whileone happens to slip out- which is why Im so nervous about tonight! I met this really great girl, Sophie, and shes coming over to my

place to hang out and eat pizza and just have a good time. It should go well... As long as I can keep my friends under control.

(Doorbell is heard)

PETER: Thats her! Here goes nothing... Hey Sophie!

SOPHIE: Hey Peter! This is a nice place you have.

PETER: Thanks! This is a nice uh... shirt you have?

SOPHIE: Hey Peter... this is a really strange request... But by any chance do you have any bananas? Ive been craving one all day, and

I didnt have any at home!

PETER: Yeah sure! Ive got a few somewhere. Ill find them then bring a banana right out to you.

(SINGERS appear behind PETER)

SINGERS: This --- is bananas- B-A-N-A-N-A-S

This --- is bananas- B-A-N-A-N-A-S

A few times Ive been around that track

So its not just gonna happen like that

Because I aint no hollaback girl

I aint no hollaback girl

PETER: No no no no no... Not right now... go away!

SOPHIE: Peter, what the heck is this? Is this some kind of sick joke?

PETER: No, its not. This is just something that happens every once and a while... Really, its no big deal! So, this all started when I

was about 12. This part is really going to sound crazy... But I found a genie in a bottle.

(SINGERS reappear.)

SINGERS: Im a genie in a bottle, baby.

Gotta rub me the right way, honey.

Im a genie in a bottle, baby,

Come, come, come on and let me out.

SOPHIE: Nope! Thats it, I cant do this. This is too weird for me. Sorry Peter, but please, do not try to call me again. It was nice

meeting you, and I hope you have a nice life with your freaky magic singing ghost things or.. whatever!

(SOPHIE leaves. PETER returns to couch.)

PETER: (Wailing) NOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Look what you guys have done! A perfectly good girl just walked right out of my

apartment. And it is all thanks to you! Cant you guys have a little bit of restraint? Help a guy out every once and a while? If

anything, just please, PLEASE, dont mess anything up at my job interview tomorrow.

SINGERS: The sunll come out

Tomorrow

So ya gotta hang on

Til tomorrow come what may

Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya Tomorrow!

Youre always

A day away!Two Thousand and Twelve 12

What Dreams Are Made Of | Mackenzie Cole

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

18/50

(Next scene. Job Interview. CHARLES is the snooty, uninterested boss. CHARLES and PETER are sitting at a table)

CHARLES: So, Peter, you are interested in being our new office coffee boy?

PETER: Um, no sir, Mr. Scottson, Im actually interested in your position available in your creative team.

CHARLES: Ha! And what makes you think that you deserve to be here over all of the other highly qualified, experienced applicants?

PETER: Well sir, I know this sounds cheesy and cliche, but I just feel like theres this fire inside my heart, and I am passionate... (cutoff

again by SINGERS)

SINGERS: Theres a fire starting in my heartReaching a fever pitch, its bringing me out the dark

Finally I can see you crystal clear

Go ahead and sell me out and Ill lay your ship bare

(PETER is sitting, unresponsive, with his face in his hands)

CHARLES: What is going on here? Is this some sort of prank? SECURITY.

PETER: No need for that, I can just see myself out.

CHARLES: You better leave my premises right this instant young man, and DONT COME BACK.

(End scene. Next scene opens back at apartment. PETER skulks to the couch.)

PETER: I thought I had hit rock bottom before... I was wrong. THIS is rock bottom. No job... No girl... It just really really sucks to be

me right now.

SINGERS: It sucks to be you.

On Avenue Q.

(sucks to be me)

On Avenue Q.

(sucks to be you)

On Avenue Q.

(sucks to be us)

But not when...

PETER: NOT RIGHT NOW GUYS!

13 Echoes

What Dreams Are Made Of | Mackenzie Cole

ContradictionSamantha Carter

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

19/50

Rack City(Panther Basketball) Fab FiveZach TuttleYeahMr. Porter

Wichita Independent PanthersStand up!

Rack city, rack, rack city.

Rack city, rack, rack city.

Rack city, rack, rack city.Rackin up twos and threescall it rack city.

(Chorus) (Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 1)

We goin for courtslike a gallon

Got milk? Gallon challenge

Got em shocked when we dish it to the outlets

Dont say yall ball if yall really aint about it

Throw up the Dubwe stay winnin

Wichita.. Independent

Yall can talk the talk, but yall cant walk the walk

Yall think yall ballin till we runnin out the clock,

Droppin shots, like a nervous doctor

Lowerin your heads when you head to the lockers

Cause yall know yall coach finna be off his rocker

Next practice bet hell have yall shakin like maracas

We take shots like pop, pop, pop, pop

Once we get the rock then we wet it like a mop


Coach Fields, but this a winter sport

Show skill, rackin up points on the scoreboard

(Chorus) (Repeat Chorus)

(Verse 2)

Most of these no name teams always doubt usBut at their homes games our student section is the loudest

They leavin early cause we shut it down

Were just getting started, yall should hang around

If they call us out then you know were gonna answer

Our team make your players wanna transfer

Top of the key or hard in the paint

Stay in the lead, we could do this all day

We dont break a sweat, they look like they broke a fever

All net, makin baskets like a basket weaver

Yall callin out SHOOTER every time the balls passed

Got em on the break because were all gassedclutch in transition like a stick shift

Never let up cause were relentless

yall got guards, but yall cant guard us

Mismatch on every player so we put the arc up

(Chorus)

Lyrics BY Christian Porter

Listen toRack City (Panther Basketball) on our website at

echoesliterarymagazine.wordpress.com

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

20/50

Tears strewn down her cheeks,Sadness dripping from her chin,Head lowered like the casket.That splotch of black in a field ofgreenAnd white tombstones.

The 21 gun salute.She takes the Triangle ofRed and blue and white.6 months. 1 week. 4days ago.The day he boarded the plane tohis own funeral

It was five days ago she wasIroning her blouse. Ding dong.

She answered the door, anklesbuckle under her.The We are sorry casserolesbuilt upAnd the family torn down.

Courageous he was,Fought for the land of the free.Surrendered his name to the USA,Who changed his initials to K.I.A.

Yo voy a volar

del cielo oscuro y

susurro oculto.

Los corazones

rompen en nuestros manos.

La sangre cae.

Nad contra la

gran ola de tus aguas

del alma solo.

August Woman

Mis PalabrasPoem and Translation by Mackenzie Cole

I am going to fly

within the dark sky

and hidden whispers.

The hearts

break in our hands.

The blood falls.

I swam against the

grand waves of your waters

of the lonely soul.

Mackenzie Cole

K.I.A.Sam McCoy

15 Echoes

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

21/50

Thoughts are like thousands of people.

Some are fleeting like faces in the crowd,

While others form relationships like family.

Many whisper quietly not

disturbing your sanity,

And protesters state their opinions outrageously

loud.

Thieves steal away moments,

precious and frail.

And campers stay long enough to muddle your

trail.

Its the character of a nation in the globe of yourmind.

Thoughts are like multilateral conversations.

There are diplomatic talks and negotiations.

Resolutions are made to resolve war,

But there are constant conflicting values.

One half is leaning left, while the other half is

leaning right.

Youre torn up the middle, more partisan than

before

Reasonability serves as the mediator.

Its democracy at its finest. The choice is yours.

Thoughts are like secrets, peoples hidden

treasures.

A select few can have your map.

Some may find and never look

or look and never find,

Though the clues were there the entire time.

The thoughts said yes, but the mouth said no.

The mind said stay, but the hands said go.You buried your thoughts shallow, not deep.

So no one reads your mind

because your thoughts speak.

Thoughts are whatever you think they are

I think?Point of View

Thoughts on ThoughtsDanielle Allen

Samantha Carter


8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

22/50

SunbatherCassie Heflin

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

23/50

The way girls talk is, and always

will be, an utter mystery to those outside of

the female species. Dont be fooled boys--your language is quite cryptic as well, but I

am a girl myself, so my offerings only delve

into the world of girl talk. So boys, sit down

and buckle up, because your mind is about

to be blownor at least jostled slightly.

The first subject Im going to cover is

time. Time in a girls mind is, shall we say,

elusive. Now this is not true for every girl,

like myselfI am very punctual. However,

I am part of the one percent. The other

ninety nine percent are late by ten to fifteen

minutes. Therefore, one should expect a

girl to be ten to fifteen minutes late. A girls

internal clock is much different than a real

world clockfashionably late is a way of life.

So when you ask a girl where she is, and she

says, Im on my way! she really means,

Im leaving my house in about five min-

utes.

Now, when a girl hasnt been prompted,

and says on her own accord, Im on my

way, she is really on her way. I know its

bizarre, but its how it works. Scenario: you

are meeting a girl, or girls, at the movies.

You are given the job to pick the movieand time. The movie starts at 9:30, so when

should you tell the girls to be there? And

the answer is 9:00. Why, you ask? Simple.

If you tell a girl the movie is at 9:15, shell

show up around 9:25-9:30. So you tell her

9:00; she will arrive around 9:10-9:15 andyou will have plenty of time to gather your

snacks and find a cozy seat that is not too

close to the screen.

Now on to the word fine. This word is

not something you ever want to hear spring

forth from a girls mouth. When you do, she

is most definitely not fine in any sense of

the word. The response fine to a question

is, quite literally, never a good thing to hear.

Only on the very, very rare occasion does

a girl really mean she is fine. The quest to

finding out if she is upset or if she is fine

is tricky, even to us girls. If a girl at school

looks glum or down in the dumps and you

ask, So-and-so, are you alright? and her

response is, Yeah, Im fine, with no hint

of attitude, or maybe even a small smile,

then odds are she actually is fine.

If you ask her the same question after

you tell her you cant do something and her

response is also the same, take caution when

proceeding in conversation. And again, this

is not in all cases, but ninety-nine percent of

the time I am rightI know, shocking right?

The response fine, translated into girlcode actually means, Im extremely angry,

or, Youre incompetence never ceases to

amaze me, or, Youre an idiot for actually

believing Im actually fine. Now, here is

how to approach a girls fury after you have

entered into the World of Fine. First ruletread oh so lightly. Do not push a girl into

telling what is wrong because nine times ou

of ten, you will take twelve steps back from

the initial fine. However, do not just let i

go like nothing happened. If you change the

subject right after the fine, then you come

across as ignorant and that is not going to

help your position what-so-ever. Instead, ask

her if you upset her or tell her you will make

it up to her. Second rule: never, and I mean

never, tell a girl to calm down. If you so hap

pen to find yourself in the not-so-silent-fury

of a girl and she begins to get sassy in a text

or real conversation for those of us who stil

have them, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT

tell a girl to calm down. The words calm

down never calm a girl down; they do the

exact opposite to be precise. Instead listen

to what she has to say, and then prepare

your rebuttal. If youre lucky, youll have a

chance to winbut dont get your hopes up

Now I know I have barely scratched the

surface of the sophisticated, yet confusing

language of the female. But now it is time

for me to bid you adieu. Boys, keep thesehelpful hints in mind. In my parting, I of

fer you all these words of advice: stay classy

Independent.

iSpeakGirlSamantha Carter


For The First TimeSamantha Carter

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

24/50

I sit, watching the minutes congeal

as I think about why I shouldnt feel.Why I constantly think and lie to myself

About how we rhyme,

feeling numb with time.

I have my Secrets, the ones that rot

Only God knows, the ones I forgot.

Thats me locked away,

Thats me and thats you.

We are behind our own mental coup.

In a way, its satisfying

but really its not

Acknowledging ambivalent,

equivalent thought.

I hate that you ignore it.

I love that you do.

I hate that you hint at it,

but Ill have to make do.

Now for the time being, I sit in decaythe rot in the thought of our dismay

If you could just see

what I have unlocked

the way we rhyme

that youve all but blocked.

But now we sit,

while we watch the clock

our feelings trapped

in our own mental lock.

Time Lock

Its two a.m, Im thinking

With my eyes glued to the ceiling,

Missing happy feelings,

But I didnt have a choice.

My fingers feel like breaking

From the beating theyve been taking.

Not holding your hand is making

Me forget your voice.

And its getting harder to remember

That Christmas is in December,The definition of forever,

Or just how to count to ten.

I dread when I start dreaming

And deciphering my feelings,

I always end up screaming,

I dont think Ill fall asleep again.

Sleepless

Eye of LondonJennifer Steere

Ryan Malone

Hannah Pierangelo

19 Echoes

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

25/50

In a field of vast green

Lived a herd of cows, who were very lean.

They lived in peace and roamed around

Until it was their turn to be ground.

They were doomed to become beef,

And thinking there was nothing to be done

they stood chewing on leaves.

However there was one cow of average size,

He was quiet and shy but very wise.

His name was Milky and he liked to dream

Of one day when cows would be freed.

Milky watched as each of his friendswent into the building

Only to meet their meaty ending.

His voice grew loud as he shot through the field,

No longer would he let this happen,

no longer would he yield.

One day the farmer came out

To examine his field and see what was about.

Striking him with a vehement force

Was a cow who yearned for freedom,

a cow who would not be coerced.

Passions were inflamed inside this cow

He wanted freedom and he wanted it now.

Milky mooed at the top of his voice,

It is time for bovine justice,

It is time for what is rightfully ours.

I will not be imprisoned only to become food,

I want to run and be free. This is wrong to treat us so

We are brethren, all mammals you know.

Joy is something we desire too, and it

Shall be ours once we choose to no longer sit.

Milky gathered a crowd

And they heard his pleas and wants, for he was loud.

They all gathered and formed a mighty bunch,Broke the gates down with a unanimous punch.

Then they took gasoline and burned the farm,

Nothing could stop them from causing damage and harm.

The fire in Milkys heart was burning bright,

His wish for freedom was coming true,

and this filled him with delight.

The cows had pleaded for many years to be free,

Yet no human ear would listen, and no eye could see.

The truth that existed deep in cows hearts

Was that roaming around with no restrictions was

their part.

To chew on some grass and not care,

Not to be ground or sold whole at some odd fair.

The cows all rushed out.

They ran and played as they romped about.

Milky shed tears for his dream was achieved,No more waiting, he was full of relief.

However before they could rejoice,

They were shot down with no remorse.

Milky watched as they all died

There was no more joy, but still he cried.

They captured him and locked him away,

Only to be executed the very next day.

Milky was defeated and his head hung low,

But there was nothing to be done, nothing could slow

The inevitable fate that he would come to face,

He walked away with style and grace.

When the axe raised high over his head,

He thought about what he did

and what could have been done instead.

Then he remembered the taste of freedom and

What a glorious taste is was to walk

without out care over the land.

He would do it again if he was allowed,

And keep his bovine head high and proud.

Justice was served on that very day,

He just hoped it could happen again,

but the effects should stay.

Milky closed his eyes one last time

And he could hear the moos of cows,

and began to whine.

The axe came down and that was the end,

Of our revolutionary bovine friend.

The Last Cow StandingMorgan Schreiner


8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

26/50

The most peaceful place I know of,

Is the grocery store on a weeknight.

No one dares do their shopping past

nine,

On a Tuesday evening,

When the hum of coolers is the only

thing,

That accompanies you on your journey,

Past the fresh turnips being showered

with water,

Bathing them in the smell of sunshine,

Making them appear to be almost edible,

Through the sea of multi-grain bread,

Which no one but your Grandma seems

to buy,

Around the arrant employee placing

cylinders,

Of soup on the highest shelf they can

reach,

And down a corridor of cookies,

Which all seem to call out to you,

Eat me, but you inevitably pass the

critics,Continuing towards the front of the

fortress

You entered some time ago,

With a list that contained only a few

items,

But gummy bears, pomegranate juice,

and gum

Materialize in the cart, so of course,

They all must be transported down,

The cold, black conveyor belt,

Nearing the scanner

Beep.

Your adventure is over.

Veni Vidi Vici

London Calling

Madeline Lev

Samantha Carter

21 Echoes

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

27/50

The Lost Hope of Love

Summer RosesRachel DeMyers

Morgan Schreiner

Help me I am trapped within myself

Life surrounds me and the walls are closing in

The repetition and injustice makes this a bleak blur

Blindly bustling about the world continues on for vain reasons

It seems I have all but given up, hope abandoned

However then I saw you standing by yourself

I was flustered with strange feelings when

You begin to talk, pulling me closer and my heart begins to stir

My emotions were changing just as rapidly as seasons

A beacon now bellows forth a note, which I follow, hope

regained

I begin changing form, my heart calls back to the beacon

No longer dwelling in doubt

My bitterness no longer so strong, becomes less stout

You have captured my soul and my very essence, but what do

I feelMy emotions boiling, my heart singing, and all I can do is

come closer to you

Love has grasped me, but what should I do

When I speak its clear you do not want to be near, hope

forgotten

I can see though, I no longer wish to be just with myself

I want to be with you and your heart I shall win

Now my days are brighter, I have reason for the repetition, and

if it were

That you would have me too, I would have a reason

To live my life with love and confidence, hope empowered

I love you for your courageous strength

You are beautiful even from great lengths

It is clear your heart calls out for companionship

I see it in your eyes of copper blue

But as I approach you recoil, but even if that is trueMy love shall be unchallenged and undenied, hope unchanged

Even if I have to wait eternity by myself

I will not falter and I will not give in

My heart yearns to sing in harmony with yours, my love endures

Still through the forces of time, pain, sadness, and the seasons

It is the same, I will wait, hope tested

I try to speak again, but it seems I have lost my voice

My heart though passionate is immersed in a cold slumber

I cannot tell if the moon or stars control the skies

Inside a battle for hope or courage occurs

But my voice is still locked into the devastating abyss of my heartChaos swirls, depression hurls my mind through the universe

Of those braver than I, I know you do not love me

For you taught me to see, and although I am no longer blind

I wish to close my eyes as raining sorrow falls

Because I love you I shall choose to stay away, because

I know your heart does not belong to me. Still your heart cries

I hope you find love soon, so you can be happy and fulfilled

What is left in life when paths shatter, and pieces

Scattered like marbles. To see the truth a love, the only

Piece that matters. Hope is lost, abandoned, and forgotten

But love cannot be

If only you could see the truth

And know the pain of vision


8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

28/50

You know, youd think a day

couldnt get any worse when it starts out

with a missed alarm, an empty tube of

toothpaste, and not a single pair of clean

socks in the drawer. Youd think that your

day would start out pretty bad if you knew

you were going to have to ride your bike to

school because the bus was long gone, and

that you were going to have go sockless in

your sneakers, hoping that no one could

smell your sweaty feetor your breath for

that matter. Youd think that maybe, maybe

that bad day would look up if you actuallymanaged to make it to school on time, or if

some one at school was willing to part with a

piece of peppermint gum or something.

Yeah, I thought that too, all up until the

Pop Tarts disappeared from the pantry. Lit-

erally, disappeared. One minute, there was

one last scrumptious, strawberry flavored,

confetti colored, icing covered pop tart wait-

ing for me on the shelfthe next, it was in the

greasy grasp of my little sisters hand and out

the door to her bus. She was gone with my

beloved breakfast before I could stop her.

Damn those quick and tiny feet of hers.7:32. The clock on the microwave teased

me with a new possibility. School was about

three miles down the street, but there was

a grocery store on the way. Could I make

it? Did I dare try? Well, of course. Noth-

ing stands in the way of my perfect, precious

Pop Tarts.

I dont think Ive pedaled faster on my

bike in my entire life, not even when Ally

ran to the park with my radio control mon-

ster truck, threatening to bury it in the sand-

box. I was flying down the sidewalk to the

store, and made it in record time. Inside,

I streaked through the aisles, searching for

the breakfast pastry aisle. My sneakers slid

and skidded on the tile as I turned corners,

searching for my treasure.

And then a furry little beast jumped on

me and tackled me to the floor.

RAWWWRR! it screamed in my left

ear while shoving plastic dinosaurs in to the

crevices of my face. The robot dinosaurs

have successfully captured a live subject for

their alien experiments!

Robotwhat? I pushed the little beast off

of me, and saw that it was merely a small

child with an army of Crayola colored dino-saurs scattered around him.

Dinosaurs, gosh, he said, as he pushed

the glasses up on his nose, wiped his runny

nose on his navy shirt sleeve, and began

gathering his toys. A stuffed penguin, who

seemed to be their king, appeared from

underneath the kids shirt and began com-

manding the dinosaur army. You have to

come and be their experiment now.

Look, kid, I dont have to do anything.

Dont you have school? I asked as I got to

my feet.

Yeah. But my mom has to get her cof-fee first, he said. He pushed his glasses up

on the bridge of his nose again. Extra Ex-

presso.

Okay, whatever. Look I gotta go

No! You have to play alien robot di-

nosaurs with me! He screamed suddenly.

This kid was getting temperamental, fast.

And I had already wasted too much time on

him. I had to find the Pop Tarts, and I had

to get to school before the home room bell.

I ran for it. The child threw a purple bron-

tosaurus at me, but I ducked just in time.

I heard him wail, How come no one everwants to play with me? before I dashed

around the corner intoAt last. The Aisle of Deliciousness. Every

thing lovely and good in the world resided

here, on the humble shelves of awesome. I

took a moment to admire it, the way I always

did when mom dragged me to the store

Oreos on my right, Capri Sun pouches to

the left. Goldfish and animal crackers and

fudge covered cookies and Fig Newtons and

Cheez-Its! At last, I had found the temple

of perfection. I sped to the end of the aisle

where I knew the Pop Tarts would be.

And there they were. A pristine and

picturesque box of Pop Tarts, and there

werent even any dents in the cardboard

The day was finally looking up. I snatched

it off of the shelf, and raced to the checkout

I managed to find three dollars and forty-six

cents of change in my pockets and backpack

to pay for my prize, and was soon back to

racing along the sidewalk toward school.

Well, the ride was awkward, trying to hold

the box under my arm as I rode, but I did

it. I slid my bike into the bike rack and sped

to my homeroom on foot. The hallways

were empty, which made me nervous, buI didnt think the homeroom bell had rung

yet. When I finally made it to Mrs. Garken

steins classroom, the bell rung just as I wa

turning the handle. I swung open the door

wildly, and burst into the room, desperately

hoping that she wouldnt count me late. Bu

she wasnt in the room at all.

Mrs. Gs in the bathroom, a student said

from their desk. I smiled.

Success! I shouted to the classroom. Mos

of the kids just laughed at me, but I didn

care. I had Pop Tarts.

An Epic QuestHannah Pierangelo

23 Echoes

Runner Up

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

29/50

Speak Now:Swifts Life in Music

The track record of awards and

nominations of country star Taylor Swift isself-evident. But the often overlooked as-

pect of her music is the personality behind

it.

Taylor Swifts latest album, Speak Now,

is her first completely original album with

no co-authors, no major guest appear-

ances, simply her writing. Swift stated

in an interview with theNew York Times

Style Magazine thatSpeak Now is almost

completely autobiographical. The fanciful

love stories that are typical of Swifts music

become even more real in Speak Now

because they were inspired by her real-life

experiences. Some of the songs really hit

home for many listeners going through the

same troubles that Swift encountered.

While some would argue that only

young girls listen to Taylor Swifts music,

many guys are affected in similar ways by

the stories in the songs. Swift writes her

lyrics in such a way that her stories, which

come from one side of a relationship,

can be applied to both sides rather easily.

Many guys will say that Taylor Swift isnt

for them, and refuse to give it a listen. But

with just a little exposure, many guys will

find that is does apply to their own lives

too. Speak Now is littered with these stories

of love and Swifts climb to the top of the

country charts, as well as catchy melodies.

All of Swifts music, along with mostcountry music, is easy to sing along with

and gets stuck in peoples heads. One

thing that is different aboutSpeak Now is

the country-pop crossover style. The new

success that Swift has found is a manifesta-

tion of her ability to gain new fans from her

new pop-influenced style while still retain-

ing her country music fans.

From love stories to a song about a

scathing reviewer, Speak Now is truly an al-

bum full of diverse styles and sounds worth

a listen from everyone.

Brian Wise

Ryan Malone


Masquerade

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

30/50

25 Echoes

We stood there, nature all around us.

His eyes glistened, bright and sparkling

like the car that wed left far behind us.

They sparkled like the color I knew streaked through my

own hair.

It was how we were connected,

how we had always been connected.

There wasnt much left to say.We had walked all the way down the path.

Past the playground equipment that reminded me

of the childhood memories we had shared together.

Past the car wed driven. The one that reminded me

of our first cars, the ones with matching bumper stickers.

Past the house with the small garage that reminded me

of countless nights sneaking out to meet him.

I didnt know what to do.

When we had come to the entrance of the forest,

and stood there for a minute, reminiscing,

We looked at the trees.

We looked at the leaves.We looked at the grass.

It was all green, the color of our love.

Where was there to go from here?

We had reached the end of the forest.

There was no fork in the road,

no option for us to take divergent paths,

or to chose the same, to stick together.

The luscious green grass that we had often

walked barefoot through, fingers intertwined,

was now dead. There was nowhere to go.

Green was the color of our love.

But everything was brown.

GreenNicole Fox

Winded PurpleTori Ciniglio

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

31/50

There was a man whose successes amounted to their normal successful amounts

And whose failures amounted to their own unique quantitiesThere were moments of more incredible success than usual for him

As well as moments of more memorable failures than common

His work schedule every day was tolerable

But by no means optimal, a grind by all definitions

His love life was at best a mind game that could be failed by even the most hardened emotional veterans

A normal human being by all sets and standards

Yet no man was more confident than he moving through the portal of sleep day after day

For he knew himself greater than he let anyone define him as

For he was familiar with the idea that his ability, his realm of the possible could only expand and never shrink

For whenever one of his orbs goes out of orbit, nothing pleasures him more than figuring out how to put it back

For he knows that his calm will withstand the most haphazard circumstanceFor he knows with each loss comes a piece of information to improve

For although the stress of having to breathe twenty four hours each day bears down upon him

Just as it does for every other man

He lets an idea sit quietly in his mind

That simply says

To never be afraid of failure

FailureDylan Hernandez

She walks in beauty, like a wind

while floating through my gentle mind

Each touch, each turn, each pleasant glance

is all for me, another chance.

But little did I know, her past

is scarred with fear still from her last.

The jagged whips upon her heart

have forced our distance more apart.

She runs in terror, like a ghost

while gliding through her chilling thought.

Each soft and meek touch of my hand

does take her to a cruel land.

Beauty/Terror

Mackenzie Cole

Orb of the NebulaAhmad Yassine


8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

32/50

The cockpit of the Blazer-540 was

in pristine condition, considering it was

nearly fifty years old. A couple of the in-

dicator lights were broken, which caused a

couple problems, but not many. The fuel

indicator was not acting properly though;

it had never done that before. According

to the readings, the Blazer was running on

fumes.

That couldnt be correct. The task forcesystematically calculated the amount of

petrol that would be needed to get from

Perseon to the docking station on Thea, a

nearby moon. The weight of the intended

cargo and the pilot were added together and

then the least amount of fuel possible would

be pumped into the spacecraft. Something

had to be wrong with the indicator, that was

the only explanation.

The long fingers of the pilot ran over the

dashboard. Back and forth, back and forth

upon switches and buttons that beeped and

blinked. Breaker, this is Dormir, my ETAis 17:42, he interpreted the echo of static

that ensued, as a confirmation of this data.

Silence followed for several moments.

The pilot contemplated putting his craft on

autopilot and retreating to the sleep cabin

when he heard a noise. The mans hands

reached for the gun resting on its shelf un-

der the controls. More shuffling came from

behind him.

Gun poised, the pilot opened the por-

tal to the cockpit. A young girl spilled out

of the containment closet. Her long braids

whipped about wildly; she looked like a he-licopter ready to take off. The girl crawled

up from the floor, stood up, and straight-

ened her maroon dress.

Please, she whimpered. Her brown

eyes screamed for mercy. The man lowered

his gun. What are you doing here? This

is a restricted government vehicle! He said

very precisely, Im assuming you dont have

proper clearance to be here, so under Ar-

ticle 7 of the Perseon Court of Law, I must

sentence you to

I know. I was hoping you wouldnt find

me until we were on Thea.She wouldnt look her captor in the eye.

What are you doing here, then? the

man calmly asked.

The girl with the pigtail braids and the dress

that was several sizes too big on her, stood

there, reluctant to tell the pilot anything.

Put down the gun, and Ill tell you.

Carefully, the pilot placed the gun on the

pallid white floor and raised his hands away

from it. Thank you, the girl said, and my

name is Kahli, by the way.

The man looked slightly confused and

then gave his name as Dormir and askedwhy the petite Kahli was on board his ship.

Kahli gave a very specific answer: she wanted

to see her brother. He was a Perseon soldier

stationed on Thea, and Kahli believed this

was the best way to get in touch with him.

However, the consequences of her actions

did not seem to cross her mind.

You know that you have trespassed and

that you have risked both of our lives here,

right? Dormir questioned Kahli. The girl

nodded, her braids waving back and forth

over her shoulders. Then the conversation

turned grim. Then you know what must bedone.

Kahli walked over to the pilot and stopped

a few inches from him. She barely came up

to his chin. Her right hand dug out a piece

of paper from her dress pocket. Here. Give

this to Kahlo Targess, she said sheepishly

As a lone tear rolled down her cheek, she

finished her thought: Thats my brother

Tell him that I love him. A lot.

Dormir took the piece of paper, folded

it in half, and stuck it into his boot. I will,

he said with a smile. He was trying to be

encouraging and comforting at this pointbecause he knew what was going to happen

next. The little girl, who only wanted to see

her brother would be corralled into the jet

tison lock, sealed in, and released into the

dark, cold, airless space that surrounded

them, all because of Article 7 of the Perseon

Court of Law.

Without begging for her life, or even say

ing a word, Kahli opened the screen to the

jettison lock herself, and stepped in.

I cant do this, she doesnt deserve i

screamed the shred of humanity in Dormirs

brain. But if you dont, youll both die out inspace. Youll run out of fuel and no one wil

come to save you yelled the part of his brain

that was programmed for survival.

A war was raging on inside of a man

that tried to remain composed, for the girls

sake. A click from the jettisons door, and

there was no turning back. The little girls

hand reached up and touched the glass tha

separated them. Im ready, she said, trying

to veil her fear.

And with that, she was gone. She had

done nothing wrong, but she had. That wa

the justification that sat with the pilot on therest of his flight. She had done something

wrong, but he couldnt help feeling he had

too.

The House of TargessMadeline Level

27 Echoes

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

33/50

Braydon BarnesLunar Vista

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

34/50

29 Echoes

StormSamantha Carter

Listening to thunder soothes me,

The rumbling takes me to a place

Where all I can do is listen.

The sound bubbles under the clouds

Then bursts into a roar, then boils

Back down to a quiet simmer.

It never really leaves, the rumble.

Its always waiting, wanting to beLouder and when it is, it is heard.

More quiet in its approach is lightening.

It strikes the ground with a subtle zing,

The silence makes it brilliant.

The light leaving peripherals before it

has registered,

Its over before realizing it has begun,

But when you get a glance, it is beauty.

Next is the pitter patter on the roof,

It hits the dark ground in teardrops,

The wondermentthe skys grieving.

As the tears fall they pop on the

ground,

The bubbles from the force are re-

markable,

Watching it is almost mesmerizing.

Too soon it will all be over,

My peaceful place for thought will leave

me,

Mourning its loss, waiting for more.

ReectionMackenzie Cole

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

35/50


Scene 5: Breaking It Down(The scene starts with Morgarret rolling around the corner with Danno tagging along behind him.)

DAN: You know, I am done!

MORGARRET: Done what?

DAN: Done with this! I am done walking around these hallways finding nothing and being in bad standing with the head of school slash

technology teacher.

MORGARRET: Well, we tried your way and that didnt work, and Mr. Coach Watkins Sir gave us permission to do this.

DAN: You want to know the truth? We arent finding anything with your method or my method, because there is nothing to find. I quit

Im tired of it.

MORGARRET: But Danno

DAN: I told you my name already and it is not Danno, its DAN. Have fun wallowing in your delusions.

(Dan walks off and Morgarret is stunned. He almost looks sad. Camera stays on him for awhile then moves to Dan walking through

the hallways.) Gosh! I cant believe him! He is so frustrating. Maybe I was a little harsh on him; no, he deserved to hear the truth.

But I did almost have fun and enjoy life, but it was completely pointless. Err I dont know. I need something to drink. (Dan startsto walk down to the cafeteria. He notices a gathering of people in the lunch room he hesitates then he hides behind the door and

listens.)

GANG LEADER: Greetings to all the members of the Octonity Gang

DAN (in quiet voice): Oh my God, he was right!

GANG LEADER: Tomorrow, we will enact our plan to flood the school with a certain item. One that we will sell to the students to be

come wealthier than kings!

DAN: I cant believe what I am hearing, this whole time he was right.

GANG LEADER: We have already eliminated all those who know of this plan I take it?

GANG MEMBER 1: No, Cronos, but we are trying our best.

GANG LEADER: You sent Alpha One?

GANG MEMBER 1: Yes Lord Cronos.

DAN: They must be talking about Morgarret! I have to warn him! (Dan quickly, but quietly, runs up to Mr. Coach Watkins Sirs room.)

DAN: Mr. Coach Watkins Sir! No I mean Mr. Coach Watkins! No!! I mean Mr. Watkins! Where is Morgarret?MR. COACH WATKINS SIR(after a few seconds of typing): He went home, said he thought he did not do the right thing or some

thing.

DAN: May I use my phone real quick?

MR. COACH WATKINS SIR(pausing to think): Sure.

DAN (starts dialing a number is looking at the watch on his wrist): Come on Morgarret pick up the phone. (The camera then shows

Morgarret in bed with his face in his pillow then his phone starts to ring.)

MORGARRET: Go away. (The phone rings.) No. (The phone rings again mercilessly torturing Morgarret.)

DAN: Pick it up!

MORGARRET: Fine! Hello?

DAN: Morgarret, you were right!

MORGARRET: Wha? What do you mean?

DAN: There is a freaking gang and they have someone called Alpha One who is supposed to whack you. (Pause) They want to kill

you, get your mind out of the gutter!MORGARRET: I thought Panther Five-0 was a waste of time and there was no reason for it.

DAN: Well, I was wrong and I need you now. Partners? (There is long pause.) I am telephonically holding out my fist for you to

bump.

MORGARRET: I am telephonically not pounding it. But Im on my way. You can count on me.

Panther 5-0Morgan Schreiner

To read the script in its entirety, visit echoesliterarymagazine.wordpress.com.

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

36/50

The swirling sun shrinks into the night

And still I know that in my heart,

when you left me standing alone, I was right.

I was the one that should not have had to resortto the measures I did; corrupting my world and splattering

my emotionsraw, striking, dirtyacross the sky

leaving sparks and streaks of old memories dripping

from it; a memory of our last good-bye.

It is a memory which forever stains the canvas of my life;

a nasty, overbearing ink blot among the dazzling sparks

that clouds my starry night. No knife

can cut the mistake out or eraser can dull the marks.

There is no change that could possibly be

that could erase the image of what was you and me.

Life is connected through strings.

Sometimes people are afraid to try for

strings that are within reach. That is where

I was: scared to try but desperately wanting

to. Through the strings of my vocal cords,

and with the help of a voice teacher named

Kathie Abel, I overcame this fear, gained

confidence, and learned to navigate lifes

tightropes. When I began voice lessons, Ka-

thie began warming up my vocal cords and

untying the ropes of shyness that kept me

paralyzed with fear and unable to fully par-ticipate in life as I longed to do.

When I was in eighth grade, Kathie in-

sisted I take a vocal solo to Festival and audi-

tion for the school musical. She forced me

to step onto strings that appeared rickety to

me, but the farther I stepped onto them, the

more confidence I developed in the strings

and in myself. I enjoyed doing both activi-

ties. Since then I have taken solos to Festival

every year and have been in every musical

possible.

My newly-won confidence also benefited

my schoolwork. Before, I despised oral pre-

sentations, fearing extreme embarrassment

if I messed up. Now, I do not mind present-

ing. If I do make a mistake, I am not alone;

others will do so as well. The same applies

to writing. I have accepted that I do not have

to be perfect. I can laugh at my mistakes

and, like an artist, manipulate a misstep on

the strings of life in my favor.

Manipulating the strings is not easy.Sometimes it takes corrections to discover

the long-term winning string. Twice I have

had to adjust and learn. Both times were at

State Festival. Sophomore year, Kathie was

ill and could not give me a lesson before

State. This made me complacent. Because I

did not practice as much as I should have, I

received a II rating instead of the I of which

I was capable. Junior year, we arrived late

so I could not run through my songs before

performing. The result was a loss of confi

dence and consequent poor breath support

Once again I received a II rating. A rating of

I would have been ideal but I learned more

from my IIs. I now know that parents and

voice teachers push people onto the practice

string for a reason. That string leads to bet

ter results. I corrected this and moved on

The next year I learned that being early i

best. I was not calm therefore had no breath

support and lost confidence. Without sup

port and confidence, vocal chords, as welas the strings of life, are less sure.

Through my voice and Kathie, I have

learned much about navigating strings. I

no longer fear minor mistakes. I have con

fidence in myself and in the strings. I use

missteps to guide myself in the long run

The strings can be manipulated and I am

learning how.

PaintingJessica Fisher

Strings of ConfidenceCassie Heflin

Glenn Cox

31 Echoes

Day Fading

Runner Up

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

37/50

In the morning, the breeze sings a whistling

tune of longing and love,

and yet I am silent.

I hear the birds singing to each other with a

merry tune that echoes from the sky,

yet I am silent.

In school, the chatter, the laughing, the general

mirth of the students fills the halls,

yet I am silent.

The teachers lecturing all hour, encourage

students like me to join in,

yet I am silent.

I hear the cars rushing by, creating a new beat,

yet I am silent.

I tap my foot impatiently waiting to go home; I

hear the jarring sounds of anger,

yet I am silent.

I leave to the gasping sounds of sobs,

and I realize something.I dont need to be silent to experience the

melody of life.

I must experience my own song.

I go home and hear the steady hum of the

washing machine,

and I hum with it.

I wake up to the piercing sound of my alarm

clock, and I laugh at the sharp noise.

I walk into the school to the

chatter of the students

welcoming a new day,

and I join into the

vivacious commotion ofthe school.

I have found my

voice.

My VoiceJessica Fisher

Dave StrauchmanHannah

Pierangelo

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

38/50

Arina

Sitting on the back porch

swing,

Serenaded by the bluebirds

song.

Breathing in the day. Soaking

up each other.

Living in the moment and

forgetting the past.

The sun is slowly disappearing

Behind the cottonwoods inthe distance.

Bare feet feel the breeze of

springtime.

Dirt left on the bottom of

them.

Remnants of running through

fields and

Placing a daisy in her hair

Just because it brought out the

green in her hazel eyes.

But just then he brushes back

her hair

Kissing sweetly, softly, beauti-

fully.

Keeping fingers laced, they

release

And just then the petal falls

from the daisy,

And in that moment she

knows He loves me.

They sit and talk before shefalls asleep in his arms.

No care in the world.

Just each other.

Daisyfor Her

Sam McCoy

Ashlyn Gagne

33 Echoes

Tanemura

8/2/2019 Echoes 2011-12

39/50

It was dark outside. I remember

that very distinctly. The white walls bright

sting was blunted by the lack of natural light.

I was thankful for it. The brightness had al-ways hurt my eyes. I blinked a few times,

trying to remember where that thought had

come from. In fact, I couldnt remember

anything at allnot who I was, not where I

was.

I sat up on the small bed I had been ly-

ing on, and tried to take in my surroundings.

They looked familiar, but again I couldnt

place them.

Whats happening to me?

I stood, and found my legs were weak

and wobbly. That should mean something,

I knew it should. I stumbled towards thedoor, bracing myself with one hand on the

wall. With a deep breath, I wrapped my oth-

er hand around the door and pulled it open,

stepping into the lighted hallway.

The sheer whiteness of it all blinded me

temporarily, and I was unable to take in

my surroundings. My breath became more

ragged, and I started hyperventilating. A

blast of cold air hit me as well, and I was

aware for the first time of how paper-thin

my dress was. On top of everything else, I

was aware of a bodiless voice speaking to

me.

Remember.

Unable to take the sensory overload any-

Date post:	05-Apr-2018
Category:	Documents
Upload:	ryan-walter-malone
View:	228 times
Download:	0 times

Echoes 2011-12

Documents