Perceptions 2022-23
Acknowledgements Perceptions magazine could not be made without the help and efforts of dedicated teachers and committed students. Ms. Maru Fuster, Ms. Vanessa Ortiz, Ms. Dana Erickson, and Ms. Ilanit Edry thanks so much for all your help and advise. I want to thanks all the students in three sections of the Literary Criticism and Creative Composition course for their submissions, ideas and collaboration, as well as the art and photography students who collaboarated with their images and visions. It was a pleasure to read submissions and select images for this publication. I hope it is a fair reflection of our students’ creativity. Ms. Bea Ramírez Betances
Table of Contents Where I am from ……...........................................07 Gazes…………………..........................................11 Strings ……………………………………………....19 Stories..………………………………………….......24 Images: Freya Jackson, class of 2027 …………………………… Cover Ella Faigenblat, class of 2023 …………………………….03 Ella Faigenblat, class of 2023 …………………………….05 Markus Cao, class of 2024 ………………………………..07, top Mariana Bermúdez-Schell, class of 2026………………...07, bottom Anthia Martínez, class of 2024 ……………………………08 Markus Cao, class of 2024………………………………...11 Ella Álvarez, class of 2027…………………………………13 Adriana Marrero Alejandro, class of 2027…….......……..15 Adriana Marrero Alejandro, class of 2027…….......……..16 Ignacio García, class of 2027………………………………17 Kasin Obarski, class of 2027 ………………………………20 Markus Cao, class of 2024…………………………………21 Markus Cao, class of 2024…………………………………23 Markus Cao, class of 2024…………………………………25 Hunter Powers, class of 2025……………………………...27, top Ella Álvarez, class of 2027…………………………………27, bottom Katherine Valentine, class of 2024………………………..29 Lara Villarrubia Egipciaco, class of 2024…………………30
Writing is the last level of communication mastered by anyone, and it requires a reengagement with language, and alienation from it, because by writing our thoughts we free them of our mind’s context and see them outside of our minds. This process estranges the ideas written and forces the writer to see what can be misunderstood, misinterepreted, miscommunicated. Therefore, most writing is re-writing, as our students in the Literary Criticism and Creative Composition course discovered this year. The process taught them to reflect on the possibilities of language and the many paths they could take when creating a text. Besides writing, the students engaged in editing themselves and their peers, and in selecting poems and stories for the magazine. This was a process that made them appreciate their peers’ creativity. Even though most of our writers are seniors of the 2023 class, we have a middle schooler among our contributors, and students from various secondary grades contributed their images to this magazine. We hope you enjoy the issue as we celebrate with it our students’ creativity! Forward
Where I am from Photo by Davide
Where I am (from) Andrea Ávila ‘23 I am from paradox, 100% Boricua (but really only 50%) From oat milk lattes, (with whipped cream please) From saying “I don’t care,” (while the thought keeps me awake) From living on an island, (though I’m never at the beach) From December 21st but a Capricorn (I was born on the cusp) From endless to do lists (but nothing to do) I am from countless contradictions, carefully carefree. An array of antonyms within me perfectly coexist.
Where I am from Marco Antonio Lambert ‘23 Where political corruption has become a normality While the prices of essential goods skyrocket They are destroying our future When we vote for the same people again and again. An island that is said to be a tropical paradise Yet it is a breeding ground for tragedy A government that fails to adhere to its people’s advice Where political corruption has become a normality. A lack of access to physicians and medical facilities From thieves that put public funds into their pockets Shutting down our most important amenities While the prices of essential goods skyrocket. A faulty education system forgotten by its government That fails to educate children on our culture What their greed is making them forget at this moment They are destroying our future. We put these people in charge That fail us time and time again Let us not repeat the same mistakes When we vote for the same people again and again. Where Am I From? Manuela Mendoza ‘23 I am from hesitations over what to say when asked where I am from I am from not knowing what country to root for in the world cup I am from doubts over which box to check in forms I am from “de donde es tu acento” I am from “but you dont seem American” I am from “¿pero tu naciste en Venezuela?” I am from incomplete nationalism I am from a strange mix of accents I am from never fully belonging I am from everywhere I am from nowhere
Where I’m from Alyssa Ríos I’m from the little plot of land in the middle of the Caribbean From the platanos maduros and rice and beans And the “mucho caldito porfavor” I’m from the “Vaquero, ahi” Y el sonido del coquí I’m from los tapones en el expreso And el chocolate con el queso I’m from making headline news Y “Ay, se fue la luz” I’m from wearing your mask por amor al prójimo Y cuidao’ Pipo si no, vas a ser el próximo I’m from the beautiful beaches and the 2022 leeches From Plaza Las Americas and the long El Meson lines To waiting on the sidelines as our island is colonized I’m from the Christmases until February and the impromptu batucadas The frappe culture and the oversized limonadas The best food, the best music, the best people We represent everywhere we go I’m from birthing reggaeton Where I am from Valeria Larrache I am Puertorriqueña I am from la “isla del encanto” I am from year long summers and “paseitos la playa” I come from the waves that hit the shores and from dulce de coco. I am from a place with apagones, huracanes, Ricky Renuncia and earthquakes And I am proud to say I’m from the place who doesn’t stay quiet in the eye of injustice. No matter how far, how close or how long I will always be from the little perfectly imperfect island in the Caribbean I am Puertorriqueña!
Gazes “
Dear pen pal Katherine Valentine Dear pen pal, When was the last time you played outside? I’m embarking on the hero’s journey Greeting Spring with a tight hug I know change is the natural way of things But I’m not little anymore My ideas are sharp and abundant I keep blooming again And again And again Dear pen pal, Does a memory hold weight in the fabric of space? The sun is shining I’m lying in bed Thinking about you But joy never left the room It’s been waiting patiently in the same minute as seasonal sadness And humming along the whole time Find out what brings you peace and follow it Sending you kindness always, Katherine. The sun and the moon Anna Cruzado I try and I try I carry the world But the moon you hold I create the cosmos Light the stars But the moon you hold The sun my invention Comets I throw But the moon you hold The galaxy so bright I did it all But the moon you hold Sweet Mother Nature Anna Cruzado Bury me under the piles of dirt beneath the fallen leaves May you please swallow me down to the core and engulf me in your flames Where hidden is a chance an opportunity to become Tend to me like you would the seeds and the eggs Bury me so I may start anew and grow from the ashes
small details Emily Zou When I was young I noticed the small details. I'd entertain myself with the little things. I'd pretend that the telephone poles had zip lines And imagined someone riding on them As the car drove away. I'd watch as the raindrops landed on the window And pretend they were racing to the finish line As they dropped past the window sill. I'd watch an army of ants walk in a line, Bumping into each other, Listening to their imaginary dialogue. I'd look at the clouds And find shapes in their abstract forms As they float away in the sky. I wish I could still easily notice these small things in life Now everything is just as it is. I barely notice the telephone lines as we drive past them. Raindrops simply fall because of gravity. Ants are just trying to Find their food for dinner. My head doesn't turn toward the sky to look at the clouds, anymore. The beauty of life was so much more vibrant when I appreciated these smaller details.
Maya Diana Pujals Maya, our kitchen still smells like your cinnamon skin; perfume of Santo Domingo, To vanilla with caramel, to that affection with which you called me “Cuka”, To your cassava; your burning salami with maca, To papaya with mango, sweetness from our tree, Although you are no longer here, I see you in every corner, At every breakfast, on every plate, your memory always snuggled up, In each cup of coffee, the memory of your eyes and your brown sugar hands, I see you even in napkins, because your advice wiped my tears of doubts, You are in my entire house, Your memory lives in my patio, in each leaf and in all the grass where you saw me learn to walk, You made a deep nest of conversations and advice, You even weaved in the googoo ga gas, And in the firm fullness of your absence, You will continue sitting with the same sandals on your feet and popcorn in your mouth, sipping on your ginger tea, Disguising eternity in each breath; your heart is always alive, And meanwhile, I keep growing, always with you, You can imagine how much I miss you, Maya, You are the seed of my crop Thank you for being my angel here on earth, I Want you to know, I will never forget you
Weak Mía Michelle Rodríguez My mind is weak. Some say I’m fragile, others think I’m pitiful. I miss my skin, Never felt comfort in it, But I want to wrap it around me. Life isn’t sweet Being a woman terrorizes me. The constant man patronizes me. Being a woman isn’t weak, but they make it out to be. Crying is fragile, Not crying is heartless. Will I ever meet the standard I’m supposed to meet? Sick of pain. Sick of fear. Sick of men. If this is a man's world, why are we here? Why can’t they burn as we’ve burned? Cry as we’ve cried? Why can’t they feel pain as we’ve felt? My mind isn’t weak. I’m not fragile like men make me out to be. Not a thin piece of paper. Not soft petals. Not a crystal flower. We are fire, And with that fire they will burn, Like my skin burned. They will feel pain equally the one I’ve felt. They will be the weak ones, and me? I won’t have pity. The invisible man Mía Michelle Rodríguez Breathing gets heavy, Heart starts racing, Chest is compressing. Can’t breathe. it's starting. Counting down to 3, Touching my 5 senses, Nothing helps. I’m still shaking, when I’m not shaking, I’m stiff. Drowning in my own body, No outside air coming in. My left finger numbs. Impatience comes in. Am I broken? He says I’m just weak-minded, He doesn’t know the pain. Pain of feeling attacked. Attacked by your own body. As if an invisible man’s grabbing your lungs tight. They don’t know how much I’ve cried. Cornered in a room Arms hugging my legs I don’t feel alive. No control of my breathing. No heart beating. I’m slowly fleeting. I get panic attacks. But, panic is not the feeling. The feeling is pain, dying, fear.
Human Being Olav Freese ‘23 Sword, Bow, knife Sword Others see it and enjoy it It impresses creates jealousy Slow, large and heavy everyone wants the sword Bow Strikes in a flash Safe at a distance Unreliable in the face of change Lives to impress Everyone wants the bow Knife The unknown Greatest weapon As hidden as a thorn Underestimated and hated Nobody wants the knife Night Beckons Fabiola Garcia Night Beckons, yet I can’t heed its call For something silences its whispers Until they aren’t heard at all Is it rage? Regret? Over a past ravaged by hate? By hatred for others, and the hate they radiate? Or is it fear? Dread over the future instead of the past? A lingering feeling, like a wound it lasts. A wound not dealt till tomorrow, yet it withers me fast. Perhaps it is sadness? A mix of all three Of future, of past, and the present I see. Tears that cripple a heart like a knife never could. Tears that stain fabric, that become a river, then a pool. Whatever the feeling, I pray for its end. I pray for tranquility, one that ends all regrets. I pray for fear’s end, for the exile of dread. I seek the feeling of joy, of being surrounded by friends. I seek to heed night’s calling, if it’s even there in the end. Strings
Revelation Desirée Morales Save me a seat in heaven, When there’s no air to breathe. The world is beyond reach, And our souls fall asleep. As the earth crumbles below, People scream in fear, And the fire shows its wrath, Save me a seat in heaven. The wildlife is hiding, With the wither of the trees, And the death of all green, When there’s no air to breathe. Bombs fly high, Guns will shout, Tolerance is the past, The world is beyond reach. Spare our eyes, As well as our lives, Praying away this agony, And our souls fall asleep.
Poetry as thought Félix González poetry… what is it? They told me to be consistent “Consistency is key!” but what if I don’t want to be. Isn’t poetry supposed to be Freeing? A way of expressing yourself? My brain isn’t “consistent” neither is my heart, if that’s what makes poetry It goes one way Then another And another It has tipos typos it has spaces and sometimes It gets very filled up and overwhelmed and things stop making sense and i get stressed and it and I dont understand and it i think too much but i dont know what i think and and and and and and and…… it turns into a headache It’s not always pretty And it doesn't always rhyme It’s seldom times witty What word rhymes with rhyme? There are rules, sure But then they tell us to break them “don't try too hard” “put more thought into it” Why can’t poetry be thought? Just the thoughts my brain thinks The free representation of my brain. It has feelings, it conveys a message so is it poetry? Yes, it is.
Liberation Ian de León Inhale deep, and feel the calm, As the fragrant smoke fills my palm, The scent of earth, the taste of peace, A moment of release, that doesn't cease. The haze descends, and I am free, My mind and body in harmony, The weight of the world, lifted away, In this moment, nothing can sway. ⁃ Liberation Beautifully mundane moments Isabella Bogaty The moments, when I feel the warm sun, on my eyelids, Making my world turn red. Or when I read a book, And the words on the page, perfectly capture and understand, better than anyone, A lived experience or thought. Or when I listen to music, Allowing it to permeate my soul. Absorbing every chord, Basking in their reverberation, As waves of sound wash up at your feet. Feeling so moved, Causing the hairs on my neck to stand up. Or that cathartic moment, When a tear crosses the border, From lash to cheek. Or writing so much And so passionately My hand burns At my mind’s demand for expression. Or being held in an embrace That carries years of stories Years of laughter. Or the simplicity of feeling your heart pumping. Lungs expanding at every breath Fueling life into every moment. I feel alive, In the simplicity of life. The beautifully mundane moments, That subtly make our days, Worth our time.
Expectations Thomas Bannet Everyday my father seemed colder than the last. Something was up, I had to know what. I began investigating, looking through his things when he wouldnt find me doing so. At first I never found anything, his drawers impeccable, his bathroom impeccable. One day I checked his study, there I found a gold mine, his checkbook. Every check I read which he had addressed made me more befuddled than the last. What was this florist? When was the last time my dad was in France? Why was he burning through our family's money so recklessly, is he not aware that that drastically influences my future? It was time to confront him, I couldn't keep allowing him to do this. When I did confront him, things went south, now retrospecting I know I shouldn't have talked to him or cared about my inheritance. If I'd made my own money rather than expecting his, maybe I’d still be alive. Ordeal by cheque Rhett Applestone A life underwater (Aug 26 - oct 15) •The time felt like water passing by slower than the stream in a still pond. Hours in, hours out, but I didn't have anything to show for it. No progress, nothing learned, nothing lived. The affair (Nov 18 - Nov 22) •Boom! Pow! (look left) (look right) GO! GO! GO! Sirens going off. The house is on fire. You’ve never felt more alive. Inside a brain hollow( Aug 30 - May 28) •Going through a supermarket with no aisles, no food, no light. Who said it was a supermarket? Could it be a prison, or a morgue? Keep walking around and around. There was nothing there but a single water drip from the ceiling. Drip.. Drip.. Drop… Gone. Stories These next stories are inspired in the micro story “Ordeal by Cheque” by Wuthur Crue The First Santino Bazzinni Jacob (son of Lawrence Exter) always imagined becoming 18 and finally being able to obtain his driver's license. Yet he could never have predicted the birthday surprise that was in store for him. His family surrounded him as he made his way outdoors, and his pulse was thumping with anticipation. A brand-new automobile was there, gleaming in the sunlight as it sat in the driveway. Jacob found it hard to believe. He hurried up to the car and unlocked the door before climbing inside and grinning broadly. His proud parents were standing next to him. His father wished his kid a happy birthday. We wanted to make sure that you started off your new life as a licensed driver in the greatest way possible. Jacob gave them both hugs as he was overcome with passion and gratitude. Every time he got behind the wheel, he would think back on this amazing event and the affection of his family since he knew he would treasure this automobile for many years to come. What just happened? As a car careened out of control, the sound of the tires screeching resounded throughout the calm suburban street. The driver, a young man, struggled mightily to take back control of the car, but it was too late. With a loud bang, the car slammed into a parked car by the side of the road, sending pieces of metal flying everywhere. The air was filled with the sound of glass breaking and metal wrenching. A little while later, the men emerged from the debris, confused and puzzled. His face was injured and his ears were ringing as a result of the airbag's deployment. He went straight to his father and asked for a check so he could fix the brand-new car that he got only 4 days ago.
The Essentials Lucía Alcedo A phone. Something so essential can be found in the hands of about 6 billion of the 7 billion people on Earth. Although it has many capabilities, it is a fairly small object. People need it to fit in pockets, purses, and hands, and it needs to be easily portable. Since it can be taken anywhere, it can be lost anywhere. Susana. A mom of three girls who are constantly busy and constantly calling for her. A busy day in her life consists of losing her phone at least once every hour. Especially when it is time to leave the house, her phone is nowhere to be found. First, we hear a scream. Susana is yelling at everyone to call her phone so it can ring and she can find it. Usually, we find it after a couple of rings. But during that busy day, her phone was not found. Chaos began. Julieta, the youngest, was in a hurry to get to her volleyball game. Diana, the oldest, was in the midst of getting ready for the day. Lucia, the middle child, still fighting to get out of bed. Despite everyone doing their own thing, they all know what is about to go down. Susana continues to yell, asking for everyone to help locate the most important thing she needs in order to leave the house. There is not much ground to cover so we all split up and begin a very important search. Lucia, barely awake, begins in the kitchen. Diana, just out of the shower, looks in the bedrooms. Julieta, almost in tears because of her tardiness, searches the living room. After about 3 quick minutes of searching, we hear a ring. We can hear it, there is hope. At this point, the only person still looking for it is Susana. She needs her phone but the rest are tired of searching. Julieta has one foot out the door, in a hurry to get to her game. Diana, back to her room. Lucia, finally fully awake, head to the kitchen to make breakfast. The fridge door opens and there it is. In the cheese drawer between the cheddar and the swiss. Susana’s phone. All is well. The essentials are acquired. Susana and Julieta can finally leave. .
Decay Alejandro Hernández The water was cold. I couldn't bear it. I hate getting wet and now I find myself going downstream in a river, because of one bad jump. I eventually lost consciousness. During that time my friends flashed before my eyes, and a very specific image of my mother lying on the ground came to me as well. I thought I died, but then I woke up. I coughed up the water in my lungs and quickly checked my surroundings. I was lost. I had no idea what part of the forest I was in. I panicked but quickly calmed down. The relief of still being alive finally set in. That thought kept me going. I proceeded to dry off my fur with that new found confidence. I hate being wet so of course that was my next priority. Then naturally I cleaned myself after that. I also greatly dislike being dirty, but as I was licking my leg I noticed in the distance a series of tall gray structures. “What is THAT?!” I thought as my curiosity got the better of me. I soon found myself en route to that place. What was I going to find? As I approached the structures I noticed a hint of green shine through that gray. There were plants growing out of them. Odd to find something so familiar in something so foreign. I pushed forward non the less. There were these weird contraptions made out of this shiny material all over the place. They had these weird black circles under them, but they all looked really dirty so I steered clear of them. I found so many interesting things. My curiosity had gotten the better of me. One time I was exploring and I smelled a very pleasing and addictive scent coming from one of the gray structures. I couldn’t help myself. I HAD to check out the source of that smell. So I made an instant beeline for it. I immediately regretted it though, because (BAM) I ran into a wall without noticing. I was a little out of it after that but came to my senses and realized that I didn’t see a wall anywhere. At that moment a sense of wonder instantly engulfed my mind. I had found an invisible wall! It wasn’t completely invisible though. It reflected a little bit of light. It reminded me of when the rivers were calm back home, and I could see through them but also see myself. Mom loved the calm rivers. She used to say rivers were an example of the world's wonderful unpredictability. She had no idea how right and wrong she was at the same time. That brief sense of joy quickly faded when I caught a whiff of a smell I hoped I would never have to smell again. I was only a small kitten when it happened. I don't know how or why it happened but one day my mom just stopped moving. She just laid there unconscious doing nothing for days. That’s when that awful smell hit. The leader of our litter passed by and told me that that was the smell of those who had passed on to the next life. I didn’t understand at the time but that turned out to be my first experience with death, and now it’s back. Who was it this time? That thought sent chills down my spine, but I knew I had to find out. If it was one of my friends I couldn't leave them there to rot. I marched on closer and closer to that smell. I felt dizzy. I hurled a hairball, but I kept strong. As I finally approached the source of the smell I almost passed out. The smell was at least 10 times as strong. It was now just around the corner. As I slowly peeked my head around I found myself confused. “What am I looking at?” I thought to myself as I stared in disbelief. It was a large creature with no fur and this weird colorful fake fur that I can only describe as one of those exoskeletons that bugs have but are very thin and not covering the whole body. I had no idea what this creature was or what happened to it, but I couldn't help but feel sad. This sight reminded me of my mother. No signs of any injury, just one day dead, and by the smell I could tell it was relatively recent. I gave it at most 4 days of decay. Almost exactly at the moment I determined how long it had been dead the wind blew downstream revealing that same smell only 1000 times worse. I panicked, but I had to check it out, so I ran as fast as I could. I eventually found an open area which horrifyingly had hundreds if not thousands of that same creature all over. The smell made it very clear that they had all died around the same time as the first one I saw. “What happened?” “What caused this?” Those questions all rushed to my mind but in that sea of us thought one thing remained constant. “This was just like mom.” Whatever killed these creatures also killed my mom. Is this the same unpredictability my mom talked about? I don’t like it.
The Death Crystal Luca de la Rosa “I do.” Jessica replied, watching her husband John slip the ring onto her finger. The newly wed couple walked down the aisle past all the friends and family they had made in the past ten years together, thinking to themselves how lucky they were to have such a wonderful life. Suddenly, John fell to the floor, extremely lightheaded, as everything around him faded to black. A few seconds later, John began to see color again. “Thank goodness, I thought I had lost you for a second.”, said John to Jessica. As he looked to his side, instead of seeing his wife John saw a vast desert landscape with only a green light reflecting off of a gem now on the floor. This reminded him of when he used to explore the desert with his brother and grandfather, getting a sudden burst of nostalgia. . Photo by Claudiu Maxim “What just happened?” John wondered, convinced he was in a dream. He grabbed the gem once more, and Jessica suddenly appeared again, but so did everything else. John not only saw Jessica in their wedding again, but he could see his children's birth, his retirement, and even his own death. Quickly letting go of the gem, John felt extremely lightheaded again, overwhelmed by everything he had just seen. “Boys, remember what we came here for, keep on looking for those ancient gems.” John could hear a faint voice over the dune he was laying on. “Rick, go check on your brother.” This voice reminded John of his grandfather, and this name, Rick, was his brothers. “What's wrong, John?” Rick appeared through the dunes of sand, worried about his brother’s strange behavior. Confused, and getting caught off guard, John swiftly replied with “Nothing, I think the heat’s just getting to me”, so Rick wouldn’t look more into what had just happened. “In that case we better go on our way home soon then”, replied their grandfather. John and Rick agreed, and without hesitation, John grabbed the gem off of the ground and put it in his backpack.
On their way back, John thought about what he had seen, and slowly realized that nothing he had been living was real, and he was seeing his future for all of those years. John then realized the power of the gem he had found, and decided to make it back home without telling his brother or grandfather about it. The next morning, as soon as John woke up he put his shoes on and hid the gem inside his shoes. John knew that if he had constant access to this power, we could stop many potentially catastrophic events. After coming back from school, Rick asked John to take a walk with him, as they usually would in the evenings. Rick and John left their home and began their daily walk down an abandoned road. Since this road was barely used, the twins decided to make it their path for whenever they wanted to walk and spend time alone. “Let’s take a break” Rick told John, as he sat on the side of the road. John sat alongside him, and they began talking about their day in the desert. “Why do you think grandpa wanted to look for gems so badly?” Rick asked. John, trying to avoid the subject, simply replied with “I don’t know”, and would answer this for every question Rick would ask him about the subject. Realizing John was hiding something, Rick offered to go back home. Suddenly, while they were on their way back, John pushed Rick as hard as he could off of the road, jumping quickly out of the way as well. About two seconds later, without making any noise a car sped through the road, almost hitting both twins. "I haven’t seen another soul on this road in years, how did you know that car was coming?" Rick asked, confused. "I just had a feeling," John replied, avoiding the truth. Rick began to grow suspicious of John, and one night decided to sneak into John’s room as he was sleeping. There Rick saw a dim green light coming from John’s shoes. As he picked up this gem, Rick could see everything, every future possible and every path he could possibly take in his lifetime. Realizing the truth about John’s powers, Rick now knew how John had saved him from that car and why he had been acting differently so often. Rick quickly left John’s room after touching the stone, and decided that he wouldn’t tell John he knew about the powers of the gem. As time passed, John changed more and more. He began using his powers to manipulate others to work under him, since by seeing into the future he knew exactly what he had to do and say to convince everyone to do what he said. Being the person closest to him, Rick once again had realized that John was changing, now being more selfish and reckless around the house than ever before. One afternoon, as he was walking back from school, Rick passed by a convenience store to get some snacks. As he walked around the store, he heard a loud scream from the entrance. There, Rick saw the store’s cashier handing money to someone, and as he turned the corner, he could see it was his brother. “What are you doing?!” Rick yelled across the store. “Nothing you can stop.” replied John, which was nothing like the John Rick knew and loved. John had been corrupted by the power of the crystal, and Rick knew he had to do something to stop him. Rick knew that even though John could see into the future to avoid his plans to stop him, he still had to try to get his brother back. Rick sprinted towards John and tried to tackle him, with John swiftly dodging. John then tried to knock his brother to the floor, but to his surprise he dodged as well. Rick took advantage of John’s surprise and was able to pin him down, take off his shoes, and remove the crystal from his possession. Rick smashed the crystal into the floor with as much force as humanly possible, shattering into hundreds of pieces. The twins looked at the crystal, and saw how it was now a dark purple color, and looked nothing like how John had originally found it. John then realized everything that had happened and apologized to Rick for letting the power of the crystal control him, and for not telling Rick about the crystal sooner. The two then make up and decide to walk back home together. Once in their house, Rick and John both go to their rooms to get changed for dinner since they were both dirty from their fight. While taking off his clothes, Rick reaches down for his shoes and pulls out a green crystal. “Thank goodness I brought this with me to the store” sighed Rick as he hid the gem in his closet. “And thank goodness my brother was too stupid to check if his crystal had gotten replaced.” Rick thought, as he brought food to the dinner table, with a hungry John waiting on the other side.
Photo by Svante Berg
This work may not be reproduced without written permission of The Saint John’s School administration, and the writers showcased in this magazine. Created in San Juan, Puerto Rico on July, 2023 Perceptions is published thanks to the support of the Saint John’s School Secondary English Department