Fall 2024 | Final Project - Long Form Narrative

[JuGamez20]

Julian GAmez

Light at the End of the Wall

In the Saturday afternoon of the local city zoo a crocodile is sitting in his enclosure, the zoo is less fortunate compared to the likes of the San Diego Zoo or the Dallas Zoo. With poor food and low on attractions with very few species of animals, and in poor financial debt. The zoo is in a square environment wall, with it being hot, dull, and grimy setting. The crocodile lives in a single enclosure with shallow water, looks nothing like his true home with c average food. He is depressed with nothing going on in his life apart from seeing people every day that he doesn’t care for and sitting on a single rock in the middle of his enclosure for him to sit on and contemplate life itself. Sitting in the rock looking around the zoo wasting his day away, he sees something that could potentially save his sanity.

He saw the wall behind the flamingo pond from about 15 feet down. was being renovated, he saw beyond the walls of the zoo and see a great big swamp with wide open water, large fish populations, with a pretty good chance of crocodiles and or alligators. His soul felt something he haven’t felt in the entire time of him being at the zoo, it was happiness. He knew right then and there he needed to get out there and be free since the thought of him leaving was out of the question. His brain was thinking the hardest it’s ever been about thinking a way to get out of the zoo.

He thinks about during the nighttime cause the zoo is too poor in hiring security guards. So, he plans to go on, first his enclosure is locked under lock and key in the back of his circular pen. All he had to do is when one of the keepers locks up for the night all he must do is scared them to drop their keys, since he is always depressed the workers don’t think of him as an actual threat. So doing this will be a big surprised for them, so when the nighttime finally hit the keeper walked into the pen, gave the croc his midnight snack and just as when he was about to leave. He decided to give out a massive growl with a fake attack with his jaws ‘attempting’ to chomp his legs off. The keeper runs away in terror with his keys and small items left behind. Using his jaws the croc unlocked the small gate that opens in enclosure.

He is finally set free, now the next step is to leave through the giant hole in the wall next to the flamingo enclosure. He walks his way past his pen and takes a right passing the rusty bathrooms and old junk in corner of the zoo. Since he was a bit unhealthy, he is going at a slower compared to other crocodiles. He was nearly there to the flamingo enclosure, when he heard other humans coming towards him with baseball bats cause the zoo couldn’t get actual weapons. Thankfully after he crosses a bridge after the junk, he’ll reach the enclosure and the hole in the wall. With his quick thinking he burst down the flamingo cage aggravating the flamingos to go everywhere around the zoo, distracting the keepers which gives him enough time to try and go through the wall with wet cement, bricks everywhere in. it was a bit of a struggle to crawl through with the wet cement.

He finally made it through the wall and made his way through the swamp. As soon as he made to the water, he took a deep breath and felt happiness that he haven’t felt in years, he look back and saw the zookeepers gave up because they don’t have the materials to try and capture him again. But at that point he didn’t care, he made it home and he can finally be free and live his life to his fullest. He sees in the far distance and see a whole group of other crocodiles, he’s so excited and travels to them to live his best life.

[Melanie]

Melanie Alvarado


Finding Healing

A wall mounted clock rings out at the chipper hour of seven in the morning. The office is shrouded in darkness as I sit at my desk surrounded by the darkness created by the absence of sunlight. The door to the office swings open and the light flicks on, radiating a bright mechanical sheen over the entire room. I silently prepare myself for a long and grueling day as other co-workers begin to pour in.

Not a moment after, the younger new guy arrived on time as usual. His puppy-like energy emitting off the grin on his face, eager to work. He has yet to be broken down from years of hard labor like the rest of us. He bounds in with coffee cups in both hands, a customary occurrence since he was hired. He sets one of the steaming cups of caffeine to the right of me on my desk. I briefly thank him and take a sip, while he plops himself on his side of the cubicle.

As I returned my gaze to my workspace, my eyes met the ones on a photograph between the coffee and computer. The woman’s sweet, kind eyes stared back at me. A longing deep down began to chip away at my heart. Each second I spare digs deeper and twists the thorn at my side, but I cannot seem to break my gaze.

Suddenly, the trance is shattered by a wall of paperwork appearing before my eyes. I glance up and get a glimpse of the boss marching away from the scene. I restore my attention to the bastion of paperwork in front of me. I suppose I have more work to do.

I look back at the photo; its haunting stare bore daggers through my very soul. The gaze of those beautiful eyes takes me back to when… I frown and shove the photo behind the tower of documents. There’s no time to mull over things; I must get back to work! I take a gulp of my coffee and snatch the uppermost document.

My work was brought to a halt as the clock announced lunchtime, its bells shrieking for all to hear and causing me to jolt in my seat. I hadn’t realized that much time had passed. Being so engrossed in the world of words and ink made me seemingly skip through time. I focused on the documents before me. I don’t feel like I want to stop now. Why should I stop? I don’t allow myself to think very long and bend over to continue my task.

The young guy, on the other hand, arose with lunchbox in hand and prepared to join the others for lunch. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him steal a glance back towards me. He idles in the middle of the doorway and remains still. I turn my attention to him, and he makes a gesture, beckoning me to follow them. Naturally, I refuse. I figured it would be time consuming to temporarily abandon my duties, so I insisted on staying. My work isn’t going to just finish itself, and plus, I don’t need a break.

The kid glances back at the door then at me, like a game of pong. The gears in his head turn as he contemplates his next move. He ought to just hurry to enjoy his break, but it seems his good nature is getting the best of him. He concludes his back and forward game and returns to his workbench. I don’t turn towards him, but I can distinctly hear his lunchbox being set on his desk.
Next thing I know, he appears by my side, startling me. He continues his attempts to convince me to take a break by shoving a sandwich towards me. His eyes are full of hope as he tries to get me to eat at our cubicle instead of going to the cafeteria. While I admire the effort, I reluctantly turn down his offer. Although a sandwich would be nice, I’m not much in the mood to eat and I need to keep myself distracted. I apologize and bring my concentration back to the multitude of documents that must be completed. He almost pouts and heads back to his desk, seemingly taking the hint.

I once again continue my duties when I hear shuffling from behind me. It seems he couldn’t take a hint. Expecting it to be some attempt of his to get me to leave, I sigh and turn around to face him. This time, it’s only to witness him return and take a quarter of the untouched documents to his own desk. I stared helplessly in mild surprise. Did he really take those documents? I grimace and whip my head towards my remaining papers, this time working a bit faster.

Paper after paper gets done. For every few that I finish, he matches with his own stack. Occasionally, the kid will hop over and snatch a portion of the main stack, but that only makes me work harder. The harder I work, the less effort it takes to fall into the pitfall traps of my mind.
I reach out to grab the next document, but my hand just slaps the desk as it finds nothing. I whip my head towards the tower of papers, only to find that it’s missing. My eyes darted to locate the documents. They cannot all be done. Right? My eyes, instead, find the photograph still resting where I hid it behind the now absent tower. Those frozen eyes met mine. This time, those eyes held no comfort but rather revealed the sorrow of what I lost.

The cracks in my heart grew wider, the chasms breaking the very surface, and a great pressure bubbling outward. I hold my head in my hands as the emotion becomes harder to bear. The pain of the breakup suddenly made itself known. A hand on my shoulder was the last straw and I finally let the flood gates open.

Memories flow back of her when we were together, happy and laughing. I remember how she was always physically active and passionate about public speaking. She always made me laugh. But then she ultimately left, and then I tried to busy myself afterward.
I lifted my head from my hands and forlornly peered at the photo, then turned my eyes to the owner of the comforting hand. The kid flashed a sad, yet comforting smile then offered the sandwich again. I returned the smile and accepted his gift of a sandwich this time around. He provided my back with a firm pat before collecting his lunchbox, then he strode towards the door again.

I remained in my spot for some time, I granted the photograph yet another look. Now, I felt no obligation to stay. There was no comfort in those eyes, but now I felt no grief either. I lifted the photo and looked at it closer. I realized in this moment that I’ve been holding myself back, I can’t ever be happy again if I don’t move forward.

I tossed the photograph into my desk’s trash and glanced back up to my young co-worker who was watching and waiting. I left our cubicle and began walking forward to reunite with my good friend. Once we were side-by-side, we walked through the doorway together.

[uggievin]

Vinnie Melendez

Nine lives to love you still




To lose everything at once is to feel nothing at all. To feel nothing as the weeping condolences grew muffled and distant on the phone pressed to her ear. To feel nothing as the world spun faster and did not wait for her to catch up. To feel nothing as she was given the news that her dear grandmother, the only person keeping her tethered to this world, had passed.




Mari was the last to leave what was once her grandmother’s house, and her warm escape from all things daunting. Now it stood tall and empty, only a glimpse of the life it once cultivated. She sat on the steps leading up to the porch where she could almost see the shadows of all who had passed this threshold before.




How could it be? That her grandmother should leave her like this? Unfairly so, as she had always seen others experience this kind of loss, but it was never supposed to be her! But of course time and fate are not concerned with what she may deem untimely or meant to be.




She said there with her head in her hands and wept for the first time since hearing the news. Weeping quickly progressed into wailing and she sounded no different than a child crying for their guardian, which is exactly what she was. All twenty-seven years of Mari poured itself onto that porch, and for a moment she thought she might die.




Rrr!




Mari almost didn’t hear the gentle rumble beside her over the sound of her uneven breathing and erratic sobs. But she certainly felt the abundance of warmth that brushed against her arm, followed by a soft chirp.




Twenty pounds of fluffy black chub looked up at Mari with a round, gentle face, two amber eyes, sharp and tufted ears and long, scraggly whiskers.




Rrreow!




Mari’s crying slowly quieted as she looked down at the soft and round cat beside her. The animal did not don a collar, and was a bit dusty around the edges, but clearly very well loved. The cat’s fluffy black coat mirrored her own big, dark brown curls. But the soft and delicate face the cat beamed at her with held a likeness to the affection and pride she could find in her grandmother’s eyes.




Tears streamed hot down her face once more as she held out her hand for the cat to sniff. She had learned from her grandmother that you must first establish trust before entering an animal’s personal space.




The cat accepted her immediately and rubbed its gentle face against her hand with rumbling purrs. She began to cry harder. Because in that moment she felt as though her grandmother had heard her pleas.

[MonsterMegalodon]

Cassandra Rebolloso Hanson

Soccerphobia

The soccer field was filled with joy and laughter. On that soccer field, filled with joyous laughter was a girl, a boy and their parents. While the parents are sitting off at the side of the soccer field talking, the little girl and boy, were playing around with the soccer ball. Each one were taking turns passing the ball to each other, shooting it into the net and even playing goalie.

While they were playing around, the little boy was slowly getting frustrated with the little girl because she had a knack for soccer. The naive little girl didn't really understand that the boy was getting frustrated, so she just kept playing along thinking he was just joking around. The little boy started getting annoyed of her laughter that she kept stopping all his kicks from making it into the net. So the little boy started kicking the ball straight at her. That little girl, thinking that he just wants to start playing something else, starts kicking the ball at him as well.

The little boy was getting tired of the little girl's antics so he called over his father. He gestured to his father that he couldn't make a goal as her being goalie So the little boy wanted his father to show him how to kick to score. The little girl, not understanding what was going on but saw the gesture at the net, headed towards the net. She thought that the father was going to show the little boy or dresser to him how to kick the ball. Not expecting the father to kick the ball. Even though this little girl was very exceptional in soccer. She has not gone up against a lot of the adults kicks or if an adult has trained with her they were a bit lighter. She got ready in a goalie stance to be ready to catch the ball. Expecting the little boy to kick. She tensed up a little bit once she saw that it was actually the father kicking the ball, but she thought she was ready. She made a confident face, thinking I can catch the ball, I can do this. What she didn't know was that when the father kicked, he had actually kicked straight for her. She froze. Wide eyed. Thinking that she was going to catch the ball, putting her hands out in front of her, not expecting how hard the kick was going to be. The ball had such force that it ended up slipping through her hands, hitting her in the chest. She falls back and the ball goes in the goal. The little boy starts cheering with the father that they finally made a goal.

The little girl lays on the floor thinking how did she not catch that? It was right in front of me. Her thoughts were slowly overcome with a sense of pain in her chest. The little girl sits up a bit dizzy, but starts clutching her chest. A little girl starts panicking, starts wheezing. Why is my chest hurting? This hurts. This hurts. The cheering father and the mother sitting on the sideline. Come over to the little girl trying to see what is wrong. The cheering little boy is confused on what happened? He soon sees the little girl and starts feeling guilty seeing her panicking. The mother helps the little girl off to the side to catch your breath. As the girl is sitting on the bench on the side, she is seeing the little boy and the father playing with the soccer ball. As she slowly coming down from her panic. She sees the ball rolling towards her. She gets scared again, pulls her feet up onto the bench that she was sitting on. And slowly starts panicking again. the mother seeing this kicks the ball back to the little boy and the father. After that little girl just sits there staring at the little boy and the father cheating the ball back and forth. Seeing that neither one of them are getting hurt and neither one of them are getting scared of the ball. Thinks she can go back out there. She looked at her mother, With a determined face saying I can go back out there. The worried looking mother just stares at her daughter pleading to go play some more slowly, nodding her head and gestures towards the little boy and the father.

As she slowly approaches the boy and the father, she starts getting scared. She doesn't understand why. The boy, the girl and the father. slowly get into a triangle formation. And start kicking the ball back and forth. But when the boy kicks the ball high towards the little girl, she gets scared. She froze as she sees the ball just hurtling towards her. She thinks I'm a good soccer player, I can take this. I can bring the ball down and as it slowly comes towards her she realizes I can't do this, I can't do this and sidesteps the ball. The little boy and the father looked at her confused. And the little girl tries brushing it off with a sheepish smile. She kicks the ball to the father and he kicks it to her back. But high this time. Again, she freezes. She sidesteps the ball again. This time the little boy and the father notice something is wrong. The little girl brushes them off, thinking one more time, I just need one more time. The little girl gestures to the little boy to kick it high. So slowly the little boy and the father back up again, wait for her to kick the ball. She kicks the ball to the little boy. He ends up kicking it high Just like the little girl gestured. But it wasn't directly to her. It was a bit off. So this was her chance to go to the ball. And bring the ball down or for her to stay away from it. And not come over her fear. As the ball is high in the air. She looks at it, contemplates looking scared. But as the ball slowly comes closer to the ground. She thinks I can do this, puts on the determined face and stops the ball with her chest.

The little boy and the father start cheering for the little girl. Since she was able to bring the ball down, the little girl starts cheering as well. Realizing I did it, I did it. The soccer field that was filled with sorrow for the little girl. Became filled with joy and laughter again.

[SamseraiLopez]

Samserai Lopez

The Art of Remembering

Clara sat alone, the dim light seeping through the window, projecting the trees as a shadowed choreography dancing across the worn wallpaper surrounding her. The winds whistled through the trees just beyond the window. She absentmindedly stirred a cold cup of tea, tracing her finger along the rim, each movement pushing her further and further into thought. The air was thick with silence, punctuated only by the muffled hum of the settling storm just beyond the window. She stared at an empty canvas sitting on an easel ridden with remnants of a well-loved past. Now, it sat in the corner, collecting dust. The walls of her home that once echoed laughter and warmth have since been replaced by an unsettling hollowness.

Without warning, a box behind her teetered from its home on a shelf and crashed straight into the ground, its contents spilling across the floor. Clara’s eyes widened, startled from the trance she found herself in as art supplies scattered: brushes, tubes of paint, pencils, and crumpled papers all over the hardwood floors. She glanced at them, all vague reminders of a life once vibrant with creativity. Kneeling, she gathered the items to return to their dusty shelf, where she had placed them to be neglected and forgotten weeks ago. While grasping for items aimlessly, she finds her hand slowing as her fingers brush along an all too familiar worn wooden handle with soft bristles nestled atop. A brief wave of warmth enveloped her, and she was transported back to a bright, sunlit room filled with color and love that held you in a tight embrace.

Memories flowed into her mind transporting her to a different time—her grandmother’s gentle smile, her hand guiding Clara’s small hands to the canvas on a youthful and hardly worn version of the same easel she was just staring at moments ago. In her childhood memory, it towered above her; sitting on her grandmother's lap was the only way she could reach it. Since then, she’s grown into the easel—in fact, she’s grown with it. Painting had once felt as natural as breathing for Clara, and she did it just as often. It was an expression of love and joy passed down to her by her grandmother, something only they shared. It was a sweet memory; for a second she felt the warmth in her heart, but it quickly dissipated and was replaced with the weight of loss creeping at the back of her throat. Trembling, she placed the brush into the box, ready to be forgotten again. She decided she would worry about putting everything away later while she regained her composure. She paused to wipe a tear gathering at the corner of her eye right before it fell. She set the box along the wall and turned to grab her tea from where she’d set it on the table next to her easel. Confusion washed over her as she focused on the brush that lay next to her cup. The same brush she thought she had just set into the box. Surely, with the wave of emotion she narrowly avoided, she likely mistook where she placed the brush. Right?

She decided not to overthink it and placed it in the box, but this time she decided to move the box to the closet, pushing it further from her thoughts. She gently closed the door with a finality that felt suffocating and went back to the table. Leaving the brush, once again, untouched in the same spot it had just been, but this time she knew she hadn’t mistaken where she placed the brush, and she certainly didn’t leave it on the table. How did it end up exactly where it shouldn’t have been? She had no idea.

A flicker of fear crept in as she picked up the brush again. She was surely losing it—she fought with this invisible presence and desperately tried to hide it wherever she could think to– under notebooks and papers, in drawers, only to find it returned each time. With each attempt, she lost more and more of her calmness until she frantically threw the brush into the hallway, hoping that would do the trick, leaving her feeling incredibly silly for overreacting... until it rolled back towards her as if it were drawn to her. It was like something—or someone was urging her to let herself remember and feel.

Her frustration quickly turned to defeat as she slumped into her chair with her head in her hands, and sure enough, as soon as she lifted her head the brush was in the same place, right next to her tea, but this time a palette of paint accompanied it. She could no longer fight the absurdity of what was going on. As she stared at the supplies laid out for her, she couldn’t help but think of the only person she knows who’s stubborn and persistent enough to push her like this. Her grandmother. Her heart sank again.

Someone she knew, she corrected. She hadn’t cried since her grandmother passed and didn’t want to start now. It had been weeks, and she knew as soon as she cried the feeling of loss would become reality. The grief began to envelop her, and she was ready to stuff it back into its designated box to put on a dusty shelf to be forgotten in her mind again, but this time she felt something new at the edges of her grief, a glimmer of warmth urging her in. She hung on to that warmth and let herself lean into the emotion. She lifted the palette of paint to appease the unseen force’s will to have her paint again. She feared the pain that would wash over her when she did and wasn’t sure if she was ready to do this—in fact, she knew she wasn’t. She wanted to be but just couldn’t muster the strength.

She couldn’t let herself face this, especially now that she was alone. Full of shame for failing, she went to place the palette down. Just as she accepted her failure a sticky note she hadn’t noticed had been stuck to the bottom came unglued and fluttered to the ground. As she leaned to pick it up, she gasped, her voice catching as it escaped her mouth. It was a note sprawled in her grandmother’s delicate handwriting.

Make something beautiful, Clara.

Tears welled into Clara’s eyes, this time she didn’t fight it. Instead, she let them flow, and with each tear, her sadness began to lift. With a newfound strength, Clara gripped the brush with a trembling grasp that steadied with her determination. The first stroke on the empty canvas felt electric in her veins, awakening something that had been dormant for far too long. She painted with abandon, colors spilling across the canvas, breathing life into the room with a vibrant energy she had long forgotten.

She lost herself in her art, painting the way she had learned—the way her grandmother had taught her—with love. As she painted, she felt an echo of a hand on hers—a hand she knew so well. A hand she was afraid she would forget the feeling of. And for a split second, the grief dissipated, and she felt her grandmother’s presence stronger with each brushstroke. She wasn’t alone anymore. A gentle reminder that letting herself feel was vital to staying connected. The clouds lifted and the sun shone through, the warmth at the edges of her grief stronger than the pangs of loss. She had found her way home.

In a bright, sunlit room filled with color, Clara sat in front of a canvas, sitting on an easel ridden with remnants of a well-loved past. Tears streaming down her face, she smiled as she sat back to see what she… no, they had created.

[nick_fite]

Nicholas Fite


Social Parenting


The child sits at the dining room table. The mother stands at the stove. The stove has 2 pans on the 2 front burners. One has 2 eggs with 2 strips of bacon, and the other has a pancake that's ready to be flipped. With grace and love, the mother plates a strip of bacon, an egg, and a pancake onto a large plate. She sets it down in front of the child. The child, astonished by the grace and beauty the mother exhibited, couldn't help but feel loved. They scarf down the food and hug their mother thankfully.


After having eaten, the child goes outside to play in their backyard. The pink and blue cotton candy sky is beautiful and scenic. The clouds dot the scene, they’re small, few, and far between. They gracefully cut holes into the sky. The sun is almost dull in the best of ways. It lights the world and not much more. The child sits on a swing, his short and stumpy legs can’t quite reach the floor. He frustratingly tries to push himself just with his arms, the rope moves but the seat stays still. The mother, as caring as ever, walks up behind him and gives him a push. His frustration is replaced with relief and fun, as he experiences gravity so intimately.


Tired from the events of the day, the child gets ready for bed. He snuggles into his bed but he somehow feels incomplete. His bed is warm, bed sheets dotted with stars and the moon. His shelves are covered in trinkets and knick-knacks. His toy chest overflows, a lot of which he hasn’t touched in years. The dark is scary and isolating. The mother comes and sits on the side of the bed. Book in hand, she tells a story to the child. The world becomes lighter and easier, and not as scary as it once was. The room becomes warm and welcoming.

[Sebastian Jurado]

Sebastian Jurado

---

Spark

As I go out my front door I am greeted with the soft warmth of the morning sun with the fresh countryside breeze blowing against my face. I follow down the same trail I always do; the one mixed with crunchy gravel and moist mud that would sometimes make me slide and almost slip. I continue down the trail which leads me towards the horse stables. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my neighbor, Martha tending to her garden. She lives alone; giving all the love she has to her garden and plants. I glance in her direction and raise my hand to say hello. She is wearing a white nightgown with a picnic-plaid patterned apron. Surprised, Martha looks over at me and waves back with the sweetest smile on her face. I’ve always admired her and how she lives such a simple life; distracted in her own little world.

I arrive at the horse stable and walk through the aisle of wooden lumber stalls, reminiscing of all the times I would go in and feed all of my horses. This stable used to be full of life with all the sounds of neighing and occasional snorting. I stop at the last stall, the one that belongs to my childhood horse, Jett. I found someone who was willing to adopt him and today was the day they were going to pick him up before I leave for the city. I hugged Jett as a final goodbye and gave him over to his new owner. At that moment, I truly wanted to just take him with me to the city or just forget about leaving my home at all. I wanted to ride away with him into the sunset and never look back. Saying goodbye to Jett like this evokes certain feelings of grief and sadness in me. I think of all the times I went riding with him in the open pastures, with the wind blowing through my hair and Jett galloping as fast as he could, with my dog Cosmo following behind us.

It’s only been a month since my dog Cosmo passed away. I actually wasn’t sure how I would arrive in this new city, as I haven’t even learned how to drive cars much less even know how to ride a bicycle. I asked Martha and she helped me “call a cab”. I was raised on this farm by my grandparents and have been passed down this farm for centuries. If it were up to me, I would stay here forever. But unfortunately, I went bankrupt and lost the house. There was nothing I could do but grieve.

I could hear a loud beeping horn coming from the nearby trail. It was the cab, painted in bright yellow paint and big bolded letters that had what seemed to be a phone number for their company. It was larger than any horse I had ever seen. I packed all my stuff into the back of this cab vehicle and took a seat in the back row. The seats were worn down and the floors were filled with food crumbs and candy wrappers. It smelled like cigars and alcohol, a smell I could never forget. It reminded me of my father, who used to smoke daily and always had his buddies over to our house for drinks. I said hello to the driver and smiled at him. He doesn’t even look back at me, he just keeps staring forwards. Still looking forward, he passes back a map and mumbles something. I assume he wants me to show him where I want to go, so I look at the map and point to Metro City. He nods and we are off.

As we drive away from my home, I look out the window and see my old home fade away into the distance as it is drowned out by the surrounding trees and hills. We passed by the huge old oak tree on a hill, which is where I buried my dog Cosmo. I left a picture of us there with a bouquet of flowers and his old chewed up dog toy. Memories of him beginning to come back. I remember I would let him try on so many types of bandanas until one day I put a white and blue striped bandana on him. For some reason, this one bandana was the one he never wanted me to take off. I rummage through my backpack, looking for his old bandana. I clutch it in my hands and hold it close to my chest, as if I was giving him one last hug. I look away and close my eyes, trying to hold back the tears.

We arrive at the city and the cab driver drops me off in the heart of Metro City, bustling with other cars and crowds of people. I had never been to the city before. I had only ever heard about old stories my father would tell me and occasionally I would see certain videos of the city on the news. Although, none of the news was ever good, I would only really hear about the most recent theft or crime or how the weather was going to be the same as it always is. I get out of the cab and take out my suitcase. I take a deep breath and take in my surroundings. The buildings around me are taller than the oak trees back home. The air is not as crisp or fresh as the countryside, with a dirty smell and dry air. I decide to go to the nearest park, in hopes to be reminded of my home back in the countryside.

I arrive at the park and feel like I’m back at home again. The trees take up a lot of the park space, with only a few empty patches of grass and the walking trail. I walk down the trail reminiscing about my old life, and imagining what my new life here would be like. Until suddenly, I hear rustling behind me and see a stray dog come out of a bush. Shockingly, the dog looks very similar to Sparky. Could it be? I start heading towards the dog to get closer but it seems startled the dog runs away back into the bushes. I look around and can't find the dog anywhere. Could it have been him?

Tired and hungry, I give up looking for the dog and decide to find a hotel to stay the night at. I walk around the streets, trying to find a hotel that I could afford and is decent quality. As I cross the street, a man passes by and bumps into me. I apologize profusely and he starts to yell at me, cursing at me telling me to watch where I’m going. When suddenly I hear rustling behind me. I turn to the right to look behind me when suddenly I feel something pulling against my left shoulder. I turn around and see a man running away with my purse. I yell at him, screaming at him to give it back. As I turn back at the man yelling at me, I see he starts to run off with my suitcase. I run after them and see them go around into an alleyway. As I run towards them, I can hear louding barking and the men groaning and yelling. I arrive in the alleyway and see the two men run past me, running away in fear. I look into the alleyway and see my purse and suitcase there, but nothing else. “How did this happen?” I thought to myself.

[benvaz722]

Benjamin Vasquez

Lost in the woods

Edit for release

Eli Terradew was born to Joan Terradew and Mark Terradew. They lived in a remote dinky farm at the edge of a vast flat land of grass known as the grand wilds. Due to him being secluded with his family and rarely going into the nearest town of evergreen, a lack luster dim little town, he developed a lack of social skills. Nevertheless this didn't stop him from being an energetic child, he loved exploring the woods, helping with farming, and tending the animals. His mother who used to be a school teacher would teach him how to read and write, about the different gods that existed, basic magic for everyday life, and about the many creatures and plants in nature. In the few times he got to visit the town of evergreen for trade, he would manage befriend a ill looking girl by the name of Anne. She had mayted jet black hair and azure eyes that stood out against the dirt on her skin. He adored visiting her and her family as they were one of the few people not afraid of the heavily clothed outsiders. She even got to visit his farm from time to time. All was well in his little world, some years later, until the war struck the grand wilds and devastating sections of the woods. the terradew family always thought the war would never reach them this far from civilization, yet when Eli went to visit the town of evergreen on a lone trip to sell some goods, he saw the aftermath of the two armies clashing. Buildings were ruined or reduced to pebbles and the bodies of village folk were splattered all over the ground. His first thought was to check for Anne and her family, so frantically looked for any signs of them. He found the corpse of Anne's father laying on top of carpet in a corner of his shop, but when Eli moved the body the carpet under him moved too, revealing a hatch that lead outside the city. He sprinted on his way back home, and told his parents everything he saw. Concerned his parents began to make preparations to leave their beloved home. However, that morning as he woke, he heard yelling coming from the front yard. It was a enemy guard captain talking to his father attempting to take the take their good for his army. Eli father resisting, the enmey captain ordered his soldiers to grapple and kill Mark terradew for resisting. Realizing what was going to happen Mark yelled for Eli, who was waiting by the the door, to take his mother and run, all while Mark fought off the soldiers the captain brought as back up with the little magic that he knew. Eli and his mother ran, and hid in specific spots that Eli could remember as he played in these woods. They traveled for 3 days straight, only stoping for 4 hours a night, so Mark could find food and water for his mother. One night, he left his mother to rest down next to a tree and he could forage for food. While on this trip he stumbled on a small shrine under a large divot next to a cliff. The shrine was made of stone covered with all kinds of greenery with a symbol of what looked like a dragon fly on a maple leaf, He cried at the sight of it remembering the stories that his mother told him of Gods offering miracles to believers. So he layed what little food he had on the plate for God and prayed. He fell to his knees and begged the God of this shirne to help him and his mother, and to alleviate all the pain they were going through. He did this for hours and eventually he fell asleep on the shrine. He then heard a kind soft voice and woke to see only balck. The voice said ," leave here, son of Mark, for I cannot offer you protection or blessings. I am only a weak fairy not a god, I cannot protect my forest from the war, I cannot protect you". Eli pleaded to the voice," please... Im scared and lost my mother and I just need a place to rest". The voice said ," I have seen you play in my woods, I have watched you, I have witnessed how you loved my creatures and forest. Yet, I cannot protect you, I am far too powerless. All I do is make sure my plants grow healthy. I am the one who waters the morning with dew. I am the sadness that comes during the changing of the leaves. The force that helps bring creature life. You need to pray to a God who is able to stop this war, to grant you great power and safety… not me." Eli said with all kindness of his heart ,"if you are the same being that cared for these woods that I loved so much, then I am eternally grateful. I loved dancing by your roots and sleeping in your trees, I will not leave! Until you grant us help!" Eli felt warmth running through his body as if he could sense the spirit's joy, then a flash of light surrounded him and he was able to see again. There was soft grass beneath his feet and a forest started growing around him. He heard a soft humming and started walking towards it, the forest still gradually building around him. He noticed what looked like a petite female sitting on a brightly lit moss covered stone. She notices Eli and stops humming. she smiles, Eli becomes spell bound as the soft rays of sunlight bounces off her orange hair and pale white skin. She had small branches growing from sides of her head ordaining her like a crown. She also wore a light green sundress that looks like it was made with thousands of small leaves. She stands up on her rock and then levitates near Eli and grabs his hand. "My name is Les, and I can't protect you my dear Eli as terrible repercussions can happen if I use that much power, but I will help you find patches of berries and good cover to alleviate some of your troubles," she says with a kind smile. She pulls him towards herself and hugs him. As soon as that happens Eli wakes up with his arms warped around the shrine and leaves to get his mother. Eli eventually builds a small tent for his mother and himself in the large divot next to the shrine. A few months past of them living in the only few sections of the grand wilds that weren't burned down from the flames of battle. Eli was able to build a small cabin and would talk to his new "god" almost everyday. He would make offerings with what little they could spare daily. In exchange the god will tell Eli about the fauna, where to find fresh water and ripe fruits and veggies, and a story on how she got to live in that shrine. How centuries ago a lonely farmer built it to see what God will show up to live there, how close the two became, and how sad she was to see him go. One day early in the morning while Eli was doing some scavenging he came across the captain and the dwindling remaining men he had after mulitple battles. Rembering eil, he soon picked a fight and began to charge at him. Eli was able take some of his out with his hand ax, but the gang soon started to over power him. Eli was then got knocked out by a stray right hook from one of the soldiers. In the darkness the image of Les came to Eli, as Les feared losing Eli, so she held out her hand and offered to make a pact with Eli. Eli refused as he knew what could happen to Les. "It's ok, everything is going to be ok," Les exclaimed with kind smile as she placed her hands on Eli's face and then placed her head to his. Eli knew she was lying, but he then woke up as one of the captain was going to take the killing blow on him, but eli moved out of the way. Eli enraged and fueled with magical power defeated the remaining soldiers and captain with the new powers he gained with his pact. He ran back to th2 shrine and started praying to Les, but nothing. He spent all night at the shrine, Joan saw her son sleeping at the shrine and she placed a warm blanket on him. For the next year after the war ended, Eli spent his time at the shrine hoping that Les would come back. He was losing hope until he heard Les familiar voice in his dream, he ran to her and hugged her. She was equally happy to see him, she told him how she was on the brink of death after expending that much power and had to day goodbye. years later on his mother's death bed, she told him why they were so secluded, and why they wore heavy clothing everywhere they went. It's because of a Mark that Eli has on the left side of his body. People would often see the mark and feared it. Eli's father Mark and the same marking on him and was why they were able to use specific magic. Eli's mother died later that day. Eli spent some weeks mourning his mother, but finally emerged out of the woods to find a new home.

[CKing]

Cara King

A Haunting Shot

The house was stunning. It looked straight out of those celebrity house tour videos, making you feel poorer by the minute. With dozens of rose bushes, stone walkway and ivory wood. Who wouldn’t want to buy a house so beautiful. There was even a gorgeous sunset accompanying it, almost as if even mother nature herself knew this house was a spectacle. However, that picturesque house was long gone.

Amber put the photo down from obscuring her view, revealing the horror the house became. The house now littered in weeds and thorns, crumpling day by day, wood rotting. A relic of itself. Instead of the pleasant hues of red and orange from the sunset, a foggy night was in its place. The moon illuminating the pearlescent spiderwebs littered around the vast holes. She swore to herself she heard a wolf howling that was then accompanied by the sea of bats leaving a shattered window. The only thing missing from the horrific scene was lightning striking or evil laugh.

She stood there for a moment twisting the lens of her camera repeatedly. This was stupid, beyond stupid, it was idiotic. Why did she agree to take this job offer? “Oh right, the pay.” She thought to herself, more as a means for motivation than a statement. Just get pictures of the ghost and she could get out with a nice pay out.

The night wasn’t getting any younger and she was in dire need of money. Amber opens the door, an obscenely loud creak admitting from it. The dark house being illuminated, causing the various spiders and creatures to scurry. She coughed as the gust from the door caused dust to swirl right into her face. Amber stood at the door surveying the area, the inside being worse than the outside. Cobwebs in every corner, floor covered in debris, decaying floor. This wasn’t going to be an easy task. Amber swallows the lump in her throat, taking a step into the house. A chill ran down her spine, as she walked in fully, the door immediately shutting behind her with a loud BOOM. She kept repeating the words money in her head trying to calm herself.

Unbeknownst to her she had awakened something sinister, something supernatural, something…small? A little ghost emerged from a dusty bookshelf, yawning being awoken from their slumber, hearing the door slam. Another person clearly here to witness the spectacle of this haunted manor. This had to happen at least twice a month or more, the ghost had lost count at this point. The ghost watched in curiosity at the balcony, as Amber observed her surroundings. Amber hugged her camera close to her chest walking around the foyer surveilling for an interesting composition to capture.

In the corner of her eye a spider crawled swaying as it created a labyrinth of webs. That seemed interesting enough, she walked over to the corner where the spider was. Before she could get the photo, she felt herself being pulled away. Panic started to rise, as she thought these were her final moments. The pulling stopped as she gained back her balance, now spotting the hole in the corner where the spider was. That could have been terrible, she thought to herself. Standing away from the hole, she zoomed in the lens focusing in and out to get the photo. Getting the perfect shot, the blinding flash illuminated the area, casting harrowing shadows behind her. Amber inspected the photo, it seemed well enough for the dark and unlit environment. Carefully walking around the hole she went to another area in the house.

The ghost followed her every move, trying to keep up with her. She seemed fast for a human, the ghost continued gliding behind her as she went from room to room. Amber took photo after photo frustrated with each shot. Whereas the ghost fought with Amber and her multiple attempts to accidentally unalive herself. From a chandelier nearly falling on her, the rails of the balcony coming apart and bats swarming her. Still she persisted, through the house. Yet after all that work and effort, there was no supernatural activity in any of her photos. Amber huffed walking around the house aimlessly, her eyes more focused on the camera. The ghost continued to fly at her side, until she abruptly stopped.

They now found themselves in the kitchen. Amber inspected the kitchen, the rusted cookware and appliances called to her. Maybe this was an area with spectral evidence. She took photo after photo inspecting them, but still nothing. Her expression grew more and more agitated, frustrated with not getting that perfect shot. The perfect shot that would allow her to leave this place and paid an amazing sum.

The only sound in the room was the soft beep of her camera as she went through photos again. With her defenses lowered the other spirits sought their chance. Suddenly the rusted knives hung upon the wall began to rattle, the sight of direction being lifted pointing directly towards her. The ghost watched in panic, not sure how to stop the knives. The ghost dives into her camera possessing it, the camera falls out of her hands. Amber dives for the camera, nearly missing the knives. She catches the camera, letting out a sigh of relief. Amber looks back noticing the knives stuck in the wall, that being her cue to admit defeat. No photo of ghosts was this much trouble nor her life.

Amber inspected the camera making sure there were no scratches. She dusted herself off and the camera, the camera then began to float. The ghost exited the camera, appearing in front of her holding it. Amber sat on the floor in shock as the little ghost looked at her. The ghost went through her photos before handing her the camera. She sat there still in shock seeing the ghost in front of her. Sure this was a haunted house rumored to have spirits, but she didn’t expect for there to be an actual spirit. Nevertheless interacting with her. Amber snapped out of her shock as the ghost attempted to converse with her. It motioned to her camera, then to itself wanting her to get the photo. Seeing as she went through nail and tooth to get a photo, the ghost decided she needed a win. She snapped the photo for the joke of it, this couldn’t be real.

After a couple more shots, Amber had the perfect shot. The ghost gathered her things and herself, guiding her to the door. She stood there as the door immediately shut on her. Amber slowly turned away from the house standing there in disbelief. The sun was now starting to rise as she stood there. How long had she been in there? Was any of that real at all? Nevertheless, Amber had gotten the perfect shot.

[EvelyT]

Evely Torres

Home



There’s only so much that can be done from within a small cage to hide away from the world, especially when the world makes every effort to be known. Non-stop barking fills the room day in and day out, sometimes frantic, sometimes hopeless, but never is there a moment of peace. Occasionally there is hope, excited voices mixing with barks as someone looks for their new lifelong friend, offering a break from the gray, dreary enclosures many animals have come to call home. In those moments the world is worth knowing, strays eagerly awaiting for their chance to meet the bright, warm rays just beyond the gray bars, to feel a love they’ve only seen in posters on the walls all around. Yet they always go and leave behind a heavy disappointment. The world seems to stop every time people leave, as if to let reality truly sink in as the hope gets washed away with yesterday’s uneaten kibble. After the first two months, you stop trying to play to the endless cycle and accept defeat, at least Milo did as he cowers within a claustrophobic kennel, tail tucked between his legs. Despite only being 5 months old, Milo already had enough of the world, opting to simply hide away as best as possible.

He did really try at first, keeping his fur in pristine condition and wagging his tail so hard he could almost fly away, but people never looked his way despite how hard he tried. German shepherd to his left, husky to his right, a humble chihuahua couldn’t possibly stand out, after all, would anyone notice an ant among mountains? Those chance moments that he was given the time of day weren’t any better either, people’s comments tearing through his being for having “ears like satellites”, a “typical nasty attitude ”, and for being “a genetic mess of a purse dog.” Not bothering to try to exist in a world he felt so unwanted in, his next best choice was to just wait in the corner away from it all, the cold hard metal beneath his feet steady as always to remind him he indeed still existed.

Then one day the cold hard metal was taken out from under him, the world he so long ignored suddenly flashing before him through the bars of a small kennel. It was… quieter than usual and a lot bumpier than before. A smooth humming filled the space, rhythmic and almost soothing if only Milo knew what it was or where it was coming from. It was then that a strange structure came into view, a building that he’d only seen in posters all around the shelter. “Home”, was it? He’d never been to one, so he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was steadily growing as he seemed to slow down and stopped right before it.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

Being a first time dog owner is no easy feat, anxiety yet excitement is all that Maisy could feel as she finally arrived home. Soft clicks filled the new silence as she got out of the car and made her way to the precious cargo in the back. She really won big, having found the most precious small dog with ears so cute and big as satellites, it was baffling no one had snatched him up sooner! Standing before the back door now, she swiftly opens the door and pulls out the kennel, excitedly rushing inside the small house to introduce him to his new life. She had pulled all the stops: new toys strewn in a mess on the floor akin to an “I Spy” puzzle, colorful, yet loud decorations lined the walls leaving no empty space, a clearly homemade banner with the words “welcome home” was haphazardly hung up, and new boxes of treats stacked like Jenga in the corner. Any dog would have no question that they belonged here, and Maisy was eager to show her new dog that she means business.

Slowly opening the kennel, Maisy practically climbed inside herself to greet the new puppy she brought home. It was all she could do to keep herself from eating him up on the spot, he was just so precious and had the biggest eyes. Milo, on the other hand, had his golden brown coat turn gray as all the color drained from his being. He was absolutely petrified and sure that these were his final moments before he’d be eaten up. Upon seeing Milo cower away, Maisy opted to try and lure him out with toys and treats in an attempt to make him feel much more comfortable.

Milo might as well have been back at the shelter, it was just as loud anyway, except instead of barks, all he heard was high energy rambling and whatever new strange sound the human could present to him. A bright box of biscuits shaking right in his face, a strange toy that emitted the most obnoxious, car honk of a squeak, high pitched gushing over how cute he was, it was all too much. Like at the shelter, at first he really tried hard, but after almost getting crushed by a stuffed animal the size of a child, he chose to cower away back in the kennel. Day in and day out it was the same, not a moment of peace as he desperately tried to hide away and find some stability in his new environment. All he knew was the cold, dull gray of the kennel, and that was all he had to keep him grounded.

After about a week, Maisy was sure Milo absolutely despised her. They say chihuahuas are very picky and full of attitude, but she had truly hoped this wasn’t true. Any new treat she bought, Milo would turn his nose up at it as if he were a snobby French critic. Any toy she tried to play with, Milo was a deer in headlights, never having seen one and being quite frankly terrified. Taking him out to the park was no better. Maisy might as well have been walking the park bench, that’s what it looked like anyway as the leash would always lead back there where Milo hid away.

Coming back home after another failed “walk”, Milo ran to his kennel as Maisy hopelessly slid down the front door. She had absolutely no idea what he wanted and no idea how to even bond. Looking up, the “welcome home” banner hung lower than it once did, almost taunting and daring Maisy to give up. But she wouldn’t, and just like that she hopped to her phone for answers. Scrolling fast enough to give anyone an arm cramp, she clicked from site to site, hoping the dog experts would shine some knowledge on her. It was then that she got her answer, if she didn’t know what Milo wanted, why not ask him? Plenty of videos she found showed how dogs were taught to communicate via colorful buttons, a feat she could surely accomplish in one afternoon without months of training. A swift online purchase and all was set, surely this HAD to work.

Milo awoke to clicking. Nothing he couldn’t ignore, he was used to noise by now, so he fell back asleep. Until the clicking continued, one after another after another. Closing his eyes tighter, it wasn’t until the clicking made its way right to him that he woke up. He saw Maisy at the entrance of his kennel holding something bright out to him, yet again. It was the same routine as always, but today he decided to humor her. Slowly walking out from the kennel, Milo sat and waited to see what Maisy had in store for him today.

Maisy was surprised, Milo never even gave her the time of day, so surely this was a good sign. Taking initiative, she started trying to get Milo to press the buttons, taking his paw gently to try to persuade him. He was like a statue, no thoughts behind his eyes, and she wasn’t even sure if he’d blinked. Maisy gave him a sideways expression, not trying to lose hope yet. As if coming back to life, Milo stopped his thousand yard stare to look down at the buttons before him. He didn’t understand what any of them meant or what they even did, all except for a bright blue button with an image of “home” on it. He tried to understand, but it was too much, and so again he made his way to his trusty cell, the one thing he could understand.

Maisy was frozen in place, only coming to when the “welcome home” banner finally fell right over her. Holding the banner as if it might shatter, she stared before tossing it aside in frustration. Taking a look around her home, most decorations had fallen off the walls, mixing with the mess of untouched toys. Everything was devoid of color, matching the lone kennel in the middle of the room, she couldn’t look at it without feeling like crying. To stave off the tears, she rushed into an adjacent hallway and slowly fell against the wall until she slid down completely. This was it, Milo hated her, after all she tried she just wasn’t a good dog owner. She didn’t want to have to return him, but it might be for the best. Trying to fight the thought, she simply sat as if she was a deflated balloon.

Meanwhile, Milo sat alone in his kennel and for the first time heard… nothing. After such a long time of noise, now there was a silence so thick you could almost hug it, which was strange. Milo took to investigating, now gaining a confidence he’d never felt before. Upon stepping out, he heard a strangled squeak of a toy he’d accidentally stepped on. Eyeing the strange item, seemingly shaped like a hotdog, he cautiously took it into his mouth and squeaked. This was… fun! He went around sniffing at anything he could reach, exploring high and low, climbing and crawling over and under. He started to run, working through a maze of toys and bumping into furniture, but this was fun! Why hadn’t he tried this sooner? Making a ruckus and an abstraction of toys he threw around, he suddenly stopped. Where was Maisy? Did she know how fun this was? She needed to try it too! But she was nowhere to be found, no matter how much he looked around. How would he even connect? He always turned her down when she tried to play with him, there was no way she’d want him now. He then had the brightest idea, he’d give her a peace offering and bring her one of his new toys, but which one? He remembered the bright blue button that caught his eye, that would be perfect!

Maisy heard a quiet ruckus in the next room, which was strange. Did someone get in? It surely couldn’t be Milo, but then it got quiet again. Looking around the corner, Maisy was shocked to see that Milo was approaching her with something. Watching him carefully, Milo slowly approached and set down the button before her. He sat and looked up, beaming and full of confidence. Maisy wiped her eyes dry as she looked at him quietly, and as their eyes met he lifted his paw towards the button and pressed.

“Home”.

[Roberto]

Robby Garcia