Some people think that monsters are bad, that monsters are scary hairy and mad, but maybe just maybe if you hear a roar outside your bedroom door and you invite the sound in, maybe you won’t see a scary, bad, mad, monsterest creature; you’ll see a scared, sad, lonely creature instead. And when you say “come to my bed,” you see the monster shrink just a thread, and when the monster is snuggled up close, you feel the monster shrink a foot. By the time you’ve laughed and played a game, the monster is the same size as the helmet you wear when you’re polluxing the polluxes out of your hair. After you read the monster a book about a band, the monster could fit in your hand. As your eyes were trying to stay awake, the monster disappeared just like that but all you can do is hope the monster hopefully, just hopefully, will come back. Ivy Cordle, 9Princeton, NJ
Poetry-Mythology
Icarus Falling
I awake early in our small, candlelit prison a stone tower high above the sands of Crete. Father melts hot wax from his thick candle dripping it on my shoulders his gentle hands press something into place. Wings! Giant, feathery white wings unfolding from my bronze shoulders I stand in awe. Suddenly guards pound on our bolted wooden door breaking the rich silence I hear loud shouts of rage and sharp panic cuts me like a knife. A whispered warning a soft shove I stumble out of the tall window nothing to hold onto and I’m plummeting toward the ground and armed guards my heart pounds wildly I squeeze my eyes shut waiting I’m a heavy stone dropping into the deep death abyss. Then my wings snap up trapping the cold wind I glide softly through the blue sky I’m alive! The wind rushes past me tangling in my black locks and slapping my flushed face exhilaration locks away my thoughts of dark, suffocating towers and nightmare labyrinths. I look down the sea is blue a deep, glittering mass of rolling waves spread forever before me I skim the cool surface feeling the tingling spray breathing in the scent of salt and freedom. Behind me Father whoops loudly “Icarus, my boy! We’re free!” I break into happy laughter, and he smiles. We fly together father and son beating our wings to a lulling rhythm we claim the vast sky. I see the sun a blinding golden sphere hanging high above I can reach it! Up I soar higher and higher leaving Father below passing astonished seagulls the sun burns hotly and my face glistens with sweat I reach out to the bright light. Then I feel it the hard wax softens in the raging heat and trickles slowly but steadily scalding my bare skin I’m terrified. Now I remember Father’s urgent warning Don’t fly too close to the sun! It’s too late. Feathers fall around me drifting away suspended in midair I flap my arms desperately and I scream to my father the harsh sound of sharp chilling fear but all he can do is watch helplessly the seagulls don’t catch me in their beaks and I sink into the black, icy depths of the sea all that is left is haunting silence and floating white feathers. Leila Yaghmaei, 12Aliso Viejo, California