I looked through the small window of my new room, watching heavy streams of water galloping through the streets. Fortunately for me, our house was located high on a hill. My parents had run down to try to help the other villagers. Flood season had come. All I could do was stare, and watch in amazement and horror. Waves and waves of powerful water were streaming down the mountains, tearing everything. It was terrible. I lifted my head, seeing the great Deer Mountain. The Deer was tall, elegant, and dangerous—especially now. What had once been the beautiful white snow of the peak of the Deer’s horn was now gone, and the watery wrath of the Deer was upon us. All I could do was stare, and watch in amazement and horror I did not know why the great Deer was doing this. Perhaps it was because spring had interrupted his peaceful winter sleep. I closed my eyes, hoping that the Deer would find it in his heart to cease. If the Deer would not forgive us, or whatever the cause, our little settlement would soon become a watery grave. My head turned away from the window, eyes red with fright. I walked over to my small bed and lay down. However, I could still hear the splashes outside and the occasional scream. The Deer was especially angry. What a pity. I heard a knock on the door. I didn’t budge. To me, the tap! tap! sounded like the galloping Deer, calling to me. Calling me outside, to its wave of terror. I did not open the door. I would be brave. But, I noticed the cease of splattering and yelling. There was hope. Was it possible that the invisible bear had come, and defeated the Deer? I found the small portion of courage remaining in my heart, and opened the door. It was my father, and he was smiling. Steven Lu, 12Anaheim, California Ashley Burke, 11Cedar Park, Texas
March/April 2005
My Last Summer’s Night
“Mommy! Mommy! Look what I found!” Trish squealed as she entered the living room, dragging behind her what appeared to be a giant book. I set down the magazine I had been flipping through; there was something familiar about that book, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. “What do you have there?” I asked. “It’s a photo album.” Trish plopped down next to me on the couch. “And look, it has your name on it.” Sure enough, there was my name scribbled on the cover. “Oh my, I used to keep this when I was just a few years older than you. I haven’t seen this in years,” I murmured wonderingly, running my fingers over the worn and creased edges. As I opened to the first page, deeply buried memories came flooding back. “Who’s that?” Trish asked, pointing to a middle-aged woman smiling up at us. “That’s my mother, your grandmother, way back when I was a kid.” “That’s Grandma?” Trish said doubtfully. “Yep.” “And who’s that?” “That’s my old dog, Suki.” Next, Trish pointed to a trio of young girls. Their arms were linked together and they wore huge smiles from ear to ear. “Is that you?” Trish asked, pointing to the middle girl. “Mommy! Mommy! Look what I found!” “Yes it is. And those two girls are Clara and Megan. We were the best of friends up until high school.” “What happened at high school?” “Oh, nothing. We were just districted for different schools and after that we kind of drifted apart . . . we were such good friends . . .” As my voice trailed off, my mind drifted back to that last summer’s night I had spent with those two . . . * * * Night had already set in when we stumbled out of the movie theater, doubled over with laughter. “Did you see that guy?” Megan squealed in between giggles. “He was such an idiot!” I agreed. “What are you talking about?” Clara cried indignantly, wearing an expression of mock disbelief. Then she leaped forward and brandished an invisible sword, mimicking the character perfectly. “Art thou thy dragon I musteth slay?” “Musteth?” I inquired. “Whatever.” And we all fell over in another wave of laughter. I lifted my jacket sleeve and wiped away mirthful tears. “When’s your dad getting here?” I finally managed to ask once we had settled down a bit. Clara glanced at her watch. “We still have about ten more minutes.” “Any of you have some money left?” Both Clara and Megan shook their heads solemnly. “Sorry, spent mine on that last bag of popcorn,” Clara said. I sighed deeply and sank down onto one of the steps leading to the theater entrance. “Well, what do we do now?” We all stared down at the ground, the same thought passing through our minds, but no one wanting to speak it aloud. Finally, Clara whispered out the painful words, “You know, school starts up tomorrow I guess we won’t see each other for a while.” I bit my lower lip and nodded. “It sucks we all have to go to separate high schools,” Megan muttered, sadness and rage blended deep within her tone. “Sure does,” I said. Thinking back, I tried to recall just how long ago we all had met. Was it second grade? Maybe. But ever since that fateful day many, many years ago, the three of us had been inseparable. It seemed a rather cruel punishment to split us apart this late in our friendship. “But it’s not like we can’t still be friends,” I added, my voice brimming with hope. “I’ll call you both right when I get home tomorrow.” “Yeah, I guess,” Clara sighed. No one spoke for a long while. I glanced from one sad face to the next, not sure of what to do or say. Our silence was only broken when the theater door swung open behind us, and two people strode out. Megan quickly shielded her face with her hand and whispered through gritted teeth, “Look away! Look away!” Almost instinctively, I turned to see who it was. Clara grabbed my arm and tried to yank me back, but not before I had caught a glimpse of them. The two most irritating people, Shauna and Zack, were walking hand in hand down the theater steps. I waited a few moments, making sure they were far enough away, then turned to my friends and raised an eyebrow. We watched as they walked off, slowly being swallowed by the night. Once again alone, we were consumed by another fit of hysteria. “We were the best of friends up until high school” I was clutching my stomach, giggling like crazy, when Clara’s dad pulled up in his old wreck of a truck. Most of the paint had chipped off, revealing a thick layer of rust, and the engine made a mysterious clunking noise at spontaneous moments throughout the ride. We didn’t give it a second thought. Rising from our seats, we piled into the dilapidated truck. “So how was it, gals?” Clara’s dad asked as I pulled the door shut and strapped myself in. For some odd reason he always emphasized the last word of every sentence. But we were used to it by now. “Not worth the time,” Clara said. We both agreed. “Ah, well. So are you gals ready for school tomorrow? First day of high school, that’s a big deal. Shame you’re all going to different places.” “Yeah . . . a shame,” Megan said. Then, we all grew quiet, each staring out their own window into the dark, moonlit night. Regret hung heavily in the air, nearly choking me. Why did it have to be this way? Why did we have to be split up now? Clara finally ended the mesmerizing silence. “You won’t believe what I saw this morning . . .” And the spell was broken, our words slurring together in our haste to
Where Time Forgot
“Sophia, honey, where are you going?” My mother’s voice rises above the creak of the screen door. “Outside,” I call back. The door slams behind me as I step out into the purpling spring evening. I smile. How could “outside” describe where I’m going? Stepping off the edge of lawn, I run through the woods. Moss is thick and damp beneath my feet. Weeds grip onto my legs, friendly greeting hands. Trees rustle, in infinite patience. The sultry air fogs my glasses, and leaves drops of dew dazzling a spider web. I walk across Jordan Creek, hopping from ancient rock to ancient rock. Water sighs its way down the waterfall, and then sings into a small pool, hidden by softly curling ferns. The water shines with a light from beneath its surface, dreamily glowing to an orchestra of crickets. My feet squish on mud. One by one my worries sink into the mud; I grind my heels into their ghoulish faces for revenge. And I smile. The ground shakes as deer leap through the forest. I watch them, their eyes constantly searching for something that never was, ears swiveling in anxious questions, tails held tense, stiffened with warnings and apologies and regrets. They lope out of sight, and I look ahead. I’m almost there. Almost. And then, finally, I’m there! The ground shakes as deer leap through the forest I relax into the constant tide of peace that splashes about my shoulders and sit cross-legged underneath a small maple tree. The clearing is small, surrounded by thick-leafed trees. It maintains seclusion from the world, a secret place that time passes by, but still I can feel waves of energy whistling through. High in the slender, supple branches of a wild apple tree, a squirrel sways in her nest of dead leaves. I close my eyes and suddenly I am that squirrel. I can feel the dead leaves damply frail against my fur; feel the heavily lazy wind raking over the branches, spilling into my nest. I chatter my annoyance at a curious magpie that comes too close, and swell with aching pride over the nestful of innocently pink, squalling babies beneath me. My eyes snap open. And I lose my thread of connection to the gray squirrel. I lie on my back, raise myself up by my elbows and gaze up at the dusk-thick sky. A robin flies ahead and in a moment of looking I am that robin. I can feel a twig roughly grooved in my beak, feel the sultry air straining against my wings. I chirp my joy for all to hear, and fester with impatience for the nest to follow the twig, the eggs to follow the nest, and the chicks to follow the eggs. A blade of grass twitches against my elbow. I become folded into it. I feel my roots soaking up nourishment from the thawing soil; feel crowded by a thousand other grasses. I feel chilled by the lowness and am stretching, stretching, growing, growing to reach the sun. I expand to my human size. Sighing, I stand up, and begin the journey home. Darkness is beginning to slash over the dusk, and Mom will be worried. But I smile, straighten my back; swing my arms in uneven rhythms. I am refreshed, rested, in all senses of those two words. I am ready to stare at the darkly ghoulish eyes of realities, and enter life again. Sophia Stid, 11Potomac, Maryland Melissa Moucka, 13Hinsdale, Illinois
