The Flame in My Eyes

Flames in the reflections of my eyes, broken glass in my hair, but most importantly, exorbitant terror in my heart.

Such little time, what do I do? Where is my family? What happened? Why am I so hot?

I immediately dash for the stairs to get away from the scolding hot flames on my soft skin. Careful, the railing is on fire. I gasp, yet all I inhale is the smoke permeating through the air. My vision is blurred but my only option is to attempt to make it down the stairs. If I lean too close to the railing, I either touch fire or fall off the stair case. If I lean too close to the wall, I face extreme burns. This is was a tortuous obstacle, though I keep my thoughts quick, and smart. I run through the fire, down the stairs, and exit the scene through the garage where I search for my family.

Flames still in the reflections of my eyes, but now with tears as I see my sister being carried out by firefighters. I yell to the firefighters, no response. I yell to the neighbors watching from across the street, no response. Just when I realize no one can see or hear me, I see myself being carried out of the fire, unconscious, and hear the screech of my mother's cry as I float away.

~ Kelly D.

My Finger is NOT a Carrot

AHHHHHHHHHHHH! He bites my finger and the nightmare begins.

A hot summer day in the middle of Texas. A steady wave of heat bears down on my little body. I have just finished playing with the dog and have been asked to help feed the horses. I am so excited! Ever since we got here a few days ago that is all I have wanted to do. My brother’s friend’s sister, Katherine-Carter, leads me to the horses.

I feed the young ones first, one carrot at a time, at first being worried about getting bit, but after awhile I don’t worry because now I am a professional horse feeder. I have an aptitude for feeding horses and my young cocky self knows it.

I make my way along stretching out my hand with a carrot in it and letting the horses snatch it up from my small hand. I love the way their tongues slides over my fingers as they pick up the carrot. Katherine-Carter watches as my little five year old self, goes along squealing and jumping through the stables. She laughs as one of the horses licks my face.

My sister comes into the stable and begins joining Katherine-Carter and I as we go from stable to stable feeding all the horses and forgetting about everything that has ever troubled us. My sister is jumpy and scared of the horses, she sometimes drops the carrot before the horse even gets. It is clear that she accepts mediocrity in the field of horse feeding.

There are only three horses left to feed; the first horse is a young purebred horse. He is jumpy and excited for feeding time; Katherine-Carter tells us to be careful because he is young and hasn’t learned the ropes of the ranch yet. We don’t care, we feed him as carelessly as any other horse and keep going along.

The second horse is an old quiet horse. Benjamin. He has a blindfold over his eyes to keep the bugs out. He is the most innocent horse anyone had ever seen; we could tell he was weak and that he had little time left. I reach my hand out to give him a carrot. Not paying attention I let my middle finger slide up. Not being able to see, he reaches his tongue out to find the carrot. The most immense pain I have ever felt shoots through my hand.

~ Malachy D.

Red and Orange Polka Dots

I walked around with red and orange polka dots for the first 7 years of my life. I could not go anywhere without it. It was my world. I took it to gymnastics; I took it to soccer; I took it to school; and I took it out to dinner. It became a part of the family. I felt as if it was a part of me.

People said that I was obsessed. They would always say things like, why does she still have that ancient thing? And she is way too old for that thing, anyway!.

But I was just attached to it. Plus, it is normal to have a trinket around all the time as a child, right? All of my friends had bunnies, or pacifiers, or bears that they carried. I just had something different and more meaningful.

When I was 4 days old, I had been given this object . This was not just some “item” that you could buy at a toy store or replace. No. This was a piece of my childhood. It was the reason I woke up in the morning.

I had a sister, Stella, and a brother, Spencer. They were both old enough that they were able to mock and tease me and my mom would not notice.

Even when she would notice, the only punishment they got was a scolding and a small talking too, “That was quite impertinent Stella,” or “That was a very astringent comment, Spencer,. Don’t make it again.” But, I knew they always would. Spencer and Stella were just able to slip in an insult me in the most covert way. Even a glare from them could make me run into the arms of my most prized possession. It could hold and love me as long as I wanted it too. I knew that nothing would ever happen to it, it could never hurt me.

Stella and Spencer loved me, in their own special way. I abstained from tattling or trying to get in the spotlight. I was never noticed by my mother, if only to tell me to let go of my love for it. It was my shield from reality. It was all the comfort that I never got from my family.

As I was walking downstairs for my first day of second grade, something was off, like a picture was out of place or a cup had been broken. I felt different, but not in a good way.

I figured out that I had just left it upstairs. That was peculiar.

As an innocent child, I ran upstairs suspecting nothing. But then my world came crashing down.

I had left my blanket in my room, on my bed, as I always do...Where was it? This is not ok, I have never in my entire life misplaced it. Ok, calm down, what did you do with it last. Ok so I ate dinner with it and then left it on my bed before I showered, I then took it with me in the bathroom to brush my hair; Ah ah I don’t know! This cannot be happening, where is it. Where is it. WHERE IS IT?! My universe is spinning, all that I ever loved is gone.

I screamed, “Have you seen my blanket?!!”

No response. So I run downstairs and find my mom just sitting in the kitchen.

“Mom, where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“WHERE’S MY BLANKET!!” I wail as loudly as I can, already bursting into tears.

“Sit down, sweetheart, just eat your breakfast, you don’t want to be late.”

I stood frozen in shock; she ignored me, like a hurricane hadn’t just struck on the house.

~ Nicole G.

The Mission

We were on a mission. Defend the house. We took our nerf guns and we prepared for an assault. We had to be tactical. They had a genius leading them. We were planning on what to do when suddenly, out of nowhere, they came. We scattered into the woods as they took the house from us. It had taken a tremendous amount of trickery and time to take it from them, and now, we had lost it in a second. They had the tactical advantage, but I was not about to let them wait the day out. We gathered around in a clearing in the forest that was close to the house, and we planned. It was very uncomfortable, as the space was not very commodious, but we saw that they had men patrolling the front and back yards, and we had seen scouts running into the forest after us. We planned to pick them off first. We would then charge the four foot fence encircling the house, and use that as cover. We would make a plan once we were settled down at the fence. We each went to our posts, while we went searching through the woods for scouts. I finally found all four of them, but I was only able to shoot three. The other one started sprinting through the forest towards the house. I relayed to the rest of the team what was going on through my walkie talkie. I was not able to gain much ground, and he was about to hit the edge of the forest when suddenly, a green nerf dart flew through the air, and hit his nerf vest. He was now dead. I looked around and realized that my friend Andrew had shot the bullet. I heard over the walkie-talkie that the men in the yard had been shot down, and I sprinted out into the open. They had snipers as well, and as I ran, I felt orange bullets whizz past me as I ran.

As we took the fence, I could feel the adrenaline rushing through me. Subsequently, I heard Andrew’s voice over the walkie talkie. “We’ve gotta hit the right flank. They’re concentrating on your side, because you have the majority of the men.” At least that’s what he thought. As I used my men to avert their attention, Andrew and two of my other friends went around to the other side of the house. I could see them from where I was and I saw immediately what was going to happen. The opposing force had seven men right where Andrew was going to enter, and I was too far away to do something about it. Their walkie-talkies had been turned off, and I could not get to him without attracting attention. I was able to snipe two of their men, and that got their attention, but it was not enough. As Andrew burst through the door of the fence, all havoc broke loose, and at the end, they had all canceled each other out. The remaining five orange team members on that side had been shot, but so had Andrew and my two other friends.

I then remembered overhearing the scouts back in the woods talking about how the Orange army planned to surround us in the woods, and that the plan had already been put in action. I then realized that we were going to be attacked from two sides, and that we would be sitting ducks. I started to yell for everyone to get back into the woods, and we all started retreating, but then, five people from the Orange army came out of the woods. As we tried to round to the other side of the fence, I realized that they were people from our team, in the scouts uniforms.

I as they jumped over the fence I thought we had tricked them, but they were not fooled. As my friends were hit with nerf bullets, I realized that our defense was breaking down, and that we were now surrounded by the Orange Army. What could I do now? How was I going to get out of this one?

~ Sebastian H.

My New Dog

“C’mon mom, drive faster! I want to see the dog!”

“Calm down you’ll see her soon enough.”

My mom is driving me home from tennis practice after she drove down to Delaware to pick up our new puppy this morning; she was born nine weeks ago, and today we finally were able to pick her up. The breeder sent pictures of her before and she looked soooo cute; she was a black miniature poodle.

I’ve always wanted a dog since most of my friends have one, and they are so fun and nice to have; they play, cuddle, listen, and show so much affection towards you. My family had a German Shepard before, but it died when I was about three; I had to beg and convince my parents a lot to get another dog, and finally after one year of it they finally cracked and decided to get a dog. We decided to get a poodle because my parents do not like shedding and we wanted a small dog so we could hold it, it could lay on our lap, and it would be easier to take care off.

We drove into our driveway; I was exhilarated as I jumped out of the car, ran through the front door and into the family room. There she was. A cute tiny black furball. She ran up to me and started jumping and standing on her hind legs, shaking with excitement. I petted her soft curly fur; it was like petting a soft blanket. I could already tell she was going to be an extroverted type of dog rather than a timid introverted dog.

I played with her all day until I had to go to bed. We had a circular gate (with small rectangular holes, that was about 3 feet high) for her to sleep in at night. As I go upstairs and lay in bed I think of how happy I am to finally have my own dog, I let this thought drift me to sleep.

I suddenly woke up to barking and whining. I looked at my clock, it read 4 A.M. I went downstairs to go check on the dog, as I walked into the family room, she climbed up the gate and went over the side.

I stood there in amazement. The first day we got our dog she already managed to escape the gate by putting her paws in the rectangular holes and climbing out. I then moved the gate into the laundry room, put her in it and closed the door so she couldn’t escape.

I went upstairs and chuckled as I thought how crazy and fun this dog is going to be.

~ Colin L.

Will He Ask Me?

I am in seventh grade, and like all of the other people here, I am going through my awkward phase. I am a total introvert. I am the kind of person that sits and listens. I’m not particularly funny, and I don’t get straight A’s. I don’t even play any sports well. But, there is one thing that is similar between the girls in my grade. We all have a crush on Austin Brooks.

Austin Brooks, he is the heartthrob of Dale Middle School. He has silky brown hair, bright blue eyes and tan skin. He is five foot seven, he is the captain of the football team, and he is way out of my league. Or so I thought.


Spring break is edging closer, and that means the dreaded Spring Formal was too. I have dreaded the formal since fourth grade. The idea of not getting asked by a guy, going by myself, sitting around the whole time, and being totally miserable for some reason does not appeal to me. There was one guy I wanted to go with, and that was Austin Brooks.

My friends have been hinting to me all day that a certain someone was going to ask me to the formal. I was psyched! Austin Brooks was going to ask me to the spring formal, Me! I grabbed some lip gloss and a hairbrush from my locker and ran to the bathroom, I mean who cares if I miss conjugating verbs? It is Austin Brooks after all.

I stood in front of the mirror for twenty minutes parting my hair, deciding I don’t like it, then parting my hair again. It wasn’t until thirty minutes into class when Mrs. David walked in. Not Mrs. David! I thought to myself. My life was over. Mrs. David was the secretary, she seemed ancient. My whole life seemed to freeze when she walked in and saw me. Of course the first thing she did was ask for my hall pass. I hesitated, took a deep breath, and ran for my life. I was down the hallway and in the janitor's closet in less than a second. I slammed the door, sat down on an upturned bucket, and breathed. What have I done? I thought to myself She surely saw me, I’m dead! If I get suspended, I’ll never be able to go the dance with Austin! Being a seventh grader, that was my biggest concern.


I waited for the bell to ring, dismissing D block, and I waited until I heard footsteps outside of the door. I quietly opened the door and snuck into the mob of people. I crept to my locker, making sure Mrs. David wasn’t around, and grabbed my history binder. I snuck off to history and sat down in the middle row so nobody would pay attention to me. I started drawing in my binder to pass the time. I looked up from my binder to see Austin Brooks writing on a small piece of paper. I looked down again so he wouldn’t notice me staring. A few seconds later I got a tap on my shoulder and someone handed me a note, they whispered, “It’s for you, from Austin.” I was out of my mind excited! I slowly unfolded the piece of paper, I looked up at Austin, smiled, and looked down again, I read the note.

Hey, Cody Smith wants to ask you to Spring Formal.
- Austin

I swear, I almost started crying. I looked up at Austin, he was smiling at me and giving me the look of Yes or no? I shrugged and forced a smile, then I immediately looked back down. Cody Smith was Austin’s jester. He followed him everywhere. Cody was Austin’s idiot friend that was just there to make a perverted joke every once in awhile. Cody? I thought to myself, Cody Smith?


The bell rang at 10:45. My stomach felt like it had two-hundred rubber bands wrapped around it. I walked to the water fountain, took a big gulp of water and, passed out.


I woke up in the nurse's office confused, scared, and with a giant headache. I sat up to see my friends, the nurse and, my mom. I was overwhelmed by the questions: Are you ok? How do you feel?l DId Austin ask you to spring formal? Are you going to pass out again? And a loud, “Everyone, I need you to leave!”, that was the nurse.

The nurse inspected me, she checked my eyes, ears, skin, mouth, and so much more. I still felt dizzy, but not as bad as before. She asked if I knew why I passed out, Because I was asked by Cody Smith! I wanted to yell, but I thought the nurse would think I’m weird. So instead I told her I was stressed. I had to leave school early that day.


After school, around 4:00, I got a call from my best friend, Cindy. “Are you ok?” she yelled into the phone.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I sighed. “I guess I was just stressed.”

“No!” Cindy once again yelled into the phone. “What is wrong!?” I didn’t want to talk so, I hung up on Cindy. I got another call about two minutes later.

“What Cindy?” I said frustrated, “Can’t you tell I don’t want to talk?”

“Um, sorry?” I heard in a low voice, “Do you want me to go?” Oh. My. God. That was Austin! What are you doing? Go back onto the phone!

“Sorry, I thought you were Cindy.” I apologize. What are you doing? Of course he knows you thought it was Cindy! Grow up and talk to him!

“Um, yeah. So, are you ok? I heard you fell. Also, did you want to go to the dance with Cody?” He asked a little confused.

He knows I passed out! Wait, here’s your time. Tell him how you feel! “Actually, not really.” I explained. “But,” I hesitated, “are you going with anyone?” I swallowed.

“Actually, no. I was too scared to ask the girl.”

Wait, is this happening? Someone pinch me! “Maybe you could tell me, and...and I could ask her.” I inferred.

There was a long pause. “It was you.”

“Yes! I’ll go with you!” I almost screamed in the phone. I said bye then hung up. I didn’t want him to change his mind. I laid down on my bed, and took a big breath. This was going to be a good year.


It was the day of the dance. I had a long blue dress on and my hair was very curly. I was wearing a little bit of blush, and a little bit of mascara. I was looking in the mirror for the billionth time, and I was out of my mind nervous. I hope this goes well. What if he kisses me? What if he hates the way I dance? Then I took a breath, looked in the mirror, and the doorbell rings. I hesitate. Should I go downstairs? No, I can’t look desperate. Besides, I can make a dramatic entrance. I wait another five minutes, then go downstairs.

Austin stands up. “Hi.” he says in a magical voice. I couldn’t speak. All I could think about was man, he looks good in a tux. I say goodbye to my parents and get into his dad’s car.

The dance was wonderful. there were fast dances, slow dances, and group dances. We participated in all of them. And at the end, something happened that I’ll never forget. He kissed me.

~ Harper M.

the Penthouse

one day i would like a large Penthouse with a husband a son and a daughter. we would be really happy-- really really happy together. one day i want to have a job at a newspaper or magazine and become a reporter. whenever i think of leaving I always think of that Penthouse so i stay around.

as i get older the Penthouse should seem closer, but everyday the Penthouse seems farther. as you age you realize the Penthouse is farther away because you continually receive more responsibility. you have to worry about grades and money and things you say and do and whenever you stop worrying you fall behind or do something bad and you have to worry even more. everyone knows those kids who don’t have to worry-- everything just seems to work out for them. supposedly those kids actually do worry but are just really good at hiding it; i don’t think so. those kids are so calm-- no one who worries is that calm.

i’m not calm and i’m not so good at hiding it; i’ll say things and do things that make me seem stupid or makes people concerned about me. sometimes I mean the things i say and do but other times i’m not really thinking. i’m not good at thinking-- that is what people tell me. they say i’m dumb. they say i’m worthless. so i say that i’m dumb and worthless. the more others say it the more i believe it. sometimes when i’m forced to listen to parents or teachers or therapists and they say you are smart or you are beautiful or you are worth it i say in my head you are not smart you are not beautiful you are not worth it-- that’s what all the other kids tell me.

~~~

one day i wanted a large Penthouse with a husband a son and a daughter. we were going to be really happy-- really really happy together. one day i wanted to have a job at a newspaper or magazine and become a reporter. whenever i thought of leaving i always thought of that Penthouse so i would stay around.

~ Michelle M.

Stitches in the Dark

It was February 6th, 2010. The same day as the huge snowstorm. Snowmageddon.

Our next door neighbors came over for dinner after a extremely fun-and snowy-snow day. There are five people in our neighbors family: a Mom and Dad, Caitlin and Daniel, who are both older than me, and Andrew and Brendan, who are my age. Daniel had a friend named Peter over that day, so we decided it would be fun to have him over also. The funny thing was that Daniel was a huge extrovert, but Peter was an introvert, but they still ended up getting along very well.

Peter, Daniel, Andrew, Brendan and I were all in the basement running around and playing tag. Suddenly, Daniel decided that it would be fun to play ball tag with the lights off. Daniel explained what ball tag was to us, and we were exhilarated because it sounded like so much fun-it wasn’t.

So we turned the lights off and Daniel started with the ball. I crawled to the back corner of the basement because I was scared of the dark. All I heard was a bunch of screaming and the crashing of the ball hitting the walls. I got really scared and started crawling back to the stairs to get upstairs. To do this, I had to crawl around the corner where the game was taking place.

As soon as I thought I had passed the corner, I suddenly felt a huge push at my side and I felt my head smack straight into the wall. I couldn’t feel any pain, but for some reason I started crying and flailing on the ground. They turned the lights back on once they heard me, and I could hear them saying things like “Oh, my god” and “Holy sh*t!” I was wondering what had happened to me that would make them say things like that, until I looked in the mirror.

I had a huge stream of blood that was coming down from the top of my forehead that was almost covering my eye entirely. I started freaking out and Daniel had to carry me upstairs to the parents. They set me down in a chair and used ice packs and paper towels to try and stop the bleeding. We were wondering if I had to go to the hospital or not. I was terrified of the hospital, so I was trying to convince my parents that I was alright. We ended up having to drive to the hospital during the huge snowstorm get stitches in my head.

As soon as we got to the hospital, we were rushed to the emergency room where they immediately laid me down and stuck a numbing needle in my forehead. I started screaming and my mom let me squeeze her hand while they were giving me the stitches.

Every time we hit a bump on the drive back, I got a shock of pain from my head, so my dad had to drive really slowly.

Once we got home, we checked in the basement to see if any damage had been done. We didn’t see anything until we turned the corner where I hit my head. There was a ginormous hole in the wall, and blood stains were all over the carpet.

~ Nick S.

Angus

It was the day, about 6 years ago, that my life changed forever.

In 2009, I was about 7 and my brother, David, was 17, almost heading off for college. My family and I, my Mom, Dad, and Sister, went to visit David. David lived on our family farm in Middleburg, Virginia.

Just as we were about to turn into onto our farm, we saw my brother’s truck, a white Ford F-150 with blue stripes, pull out of the farm next to ours. Inside the truck we saw my brother, a huge beast of a person whom you could never miss, and next to him a 2 week old puppy named Luther. Luther was as happy as ever, hanging his head out the window.

Luther was an English black lab born on the farm next to ours. He had 4 brothers and 2 sisters, all born on the same day. All had been sold but one, the runt of the litter.

Subsequently we went to see the puppies, for my 4 year old sister loved fluffy animals, as does every child. Not all of the puppies had been taken to their new families yet. When we entered the farm, there they were, happy as ever but terribly misbehaved. All of the puppies were running around with their mom, for their dad was elsewhere. Not all of the puppies were black like their mom - some were brown and others were white.

All of Luther’s siblings were in a commodious pen, like pigs - but not Angus... Angus had escaped the pen and was running with the horses in the field. After the first 20 minutes playing with him, it already felt like Angus was ours. It was not our intent to bring a dog home with us, but we did, and it was the single best decision our family has ever made.

Back at our farm, we saw Luther frolicking in the field but with another dog. The dog, like Angus and Luther, was a small black lab puppy. Little did we know that David’s cousin, Sam, had also gotten a dog from the same litter. His name was Rufus. Later when we were having lunch, Rufus was under the table, ready to eat any scrabs that fell.

Now, 6 and a half years later, all three dogs are still together. For a couple years, Rufus lived in Mississippi while Sam attended college, but now Sam moved back to Middleburg to pursue his dream of owning a brewery. When the dogs were smaller and you put all three together, you could not tell them apart; so we put different colored bandanas on them. Angus had red, Luther had green, and Rufus had Blue. After all of these years the three dogs now have their differences. Angus is fit and thin, Luther is thick and strong, and Rufus is big and fat.

As these 6 years passed nothing has changed: Angus wears his red bandana, Luther wears his green bandana, and Rufus wears his blue bandana. Luther still hangs his head out of the window of the truck, Rufus still eats anything he finds, and Angus still is the same escape artist he was 6 years ago.

~ Jack Ste.

The F-5

Sirens ringing, seagulls screaming as darkness closes in on the little light that is left of the sun. The intense storm assaults the seaside city with hail and heavy rain as the screams of innocent civilians pierce through the once peaceful sound of a scanty beach town.

While the harsh winds speed up, all of time seems to slow down. The dark green and black clouds start to spin while the city starts to realize what exactly is coming. As the clouds spin faster and faster the screaming only gets louder and louder. Radio broadcasts start to come, all bringing emergency warnings, telling people to get out of the streets. While everyone is still trying to find cover, they all know that it’s too late. The spiraling winds touch down on the Earth and immediately starts to rip and tear everything in its path; buildings torn out of the ground and houses flung out in the air.

It’s over. What felt like ten, hours only ten minutes. The carnage of the furious winds is all that is left. Cars flipped, the rubble of defenseless building, and the sobs of the mourning civilians as they realize that all that they ever had is gone. The grey leaves the sky and finally allows the sun to shine again. Seagulls calm and quiet as rescue boats patrol the streets with seamlessly endless stretchers traveling to the calls of help.

Days became shorter. People left faster and faster. The famous F5. The one that took away homes. 10 minutes and hundreds dead. And it’s gone. Most of the people gone. Nothing left.

~ Martin T.

Not Quite Anything

The sound of a ban saw fills the air. The clothesline squeaks as my mother tugs it nearer to hang wet clothes on. The back door slams shut with a small squeal of objection. Hot summer sun and steamy, humid air hit my face as I race down the back steps.

Oh. Right. Let me backtrack. Start from the beginning. I’m from South Carolina. You might not know because I don’t sound like it. I’ve little to no accent. My last name does not drip gentile lineage. 

My family is first generation Southern. So it doesn’t count. We don’t hail from the Old South. I didn’t take cotillion lessons. I was never a debutante. I was never in a high school sorority.

That was for my friends. The Van Antwerps from Lancaster. The Walpoles from Beaufort. And the Kirks from Camden. 

My life was always defined by being not quite Southern. And not quite anything else. In between. I always longed for that sense of heritage. Ancestry. But even when my grandparents took me to Massachusetts for the summer and we stayed in my grandfather’s boyhood home, I didn’t feel like I belonged. I certainly wasn’t a Bostonian. Yeah. Maybe my great-greats-greats had come over on the Mayflower, been past presidents, or owned large, thriving companies before the big Crash.

But that wasn’t me. That had little to do with me. 

Thus, when my grandfather packed up the family and moved south to teach law at a local university, my life was destined to be displaced. Uncertain. Unsettled. 

Forever lost was the familiar line broken. The heritage, ancestral connection gone. Now dysfunctional. Displaced. Dispersed.

So I grew up a Collins in a world of Smiths. A liberal in a conservative world. Awkward Alice in a lonely Wonderland. One of a kind. And kind of alone. 

Switching schools didn’t help. Heathwood Pre-K, St. Peter’s Catholic, Brennan Elementary, Crayton Middle School. So many changes. 

The one thing that never changed was the sound of my dad in the garage, cutting away at wood, sawdust collecting at his feet, and the high pitch whine of the circular saw. 

Clothes flapping in the breeze, nature’s hot breath on summer’s neck.

The backyard, overgrown and weedy, beckoning adventure, like an unexplored jungle restraining a monkey’s afternoon cry.

These were my family’s roots. These were my comforts on lonely days. These were.

Until they weren’t.

~ Ms. Green