EQUUS Magazine • 2020 • Vol. 26

Literary and art magazine of ST FRANCIS DESALES SCHOOL
HIGH
E Q UUS

2020

Dedication

to retired
faculty member

Bill Kerwin

who created Equus to
showcase the creative voices
of the students of
St. Francis DeSales High School

2020 Literary and art magazine
E Q UUS
Volume• 26

Designed by:

Annie Aumiller

Writing edited by:

Kate Reither

Art edited by:

Lori Aumiller

Cover art by:

Natalie Hoffman

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TAB LE OF CON T E N

L i t era ry a rt: T S

Abby Groff...............................................................07
Abby Groff...............................................................10
Kathryn Stone.........................................................14
Kathryn Stone.........................................................17
Aiden Zacherl..........................................................19
Dominic Le...............................................................22
Aiden Bee................................................................26
Anna Schneider.......................................................28
Kat Gunther..............................................................29
William Shaffer.........................................................31
Mariana Perez Flores..............................................35
Catharina Lu............................................................36
Clarissa Le...............................................................38
Abby Groff...............................................................40
Mariana Perez Flores..............................................46
Catharina Lu............................................................47
Caden Lester............................................................49
Mia Koniki.................................................................52

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TABLE OF CONTEN

Visual art:

Abby Groff...............................................................10
Anya Vanasdale.......................................................12
Molly Teets...............................................................13
Abby Groff...............................................................10
Anya Vanasdale.......................................................12
Molly Teets...............................................................13
AnnaMarie DeGuzman............................................18
Abigail Waldren.......................................................24
Brianna Stokes........................................................25
Katrina Gunther.......................................................27
Abigail Waldren.......................................................33
Rebecca Palone.......................................................34
Jasmyn Mohamed...................................................35
Zofia Jaqerova.........................................................39
CaroleAnn Green.....................................................43
Gabriella Gualtieri...................................................44
Gabriella Baiges......................................................48
Jade Forte................................................................50
Gabriella Gualtieri...................................................51
Catharina Le............................................................53

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NTS

6 word memoirs:

AP Language and Composition students

AP Language students were asked by faculty member Mrs.
Danielle Polemeni to compose a six word memoir describing
their current reality, state of mind, or grand statement to the
world regarding their experience during the COVID-19 pan-
demic quarantine. The six word memoir was purportedly made
famous by Hemingway, who was tasked on a bar bet to write a
six word story. He won, of course.
These are scattered throughout the magazine and labeled as 6
word memoirs.

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short story

Coming Untied |

Abby Groff

Shouting consumed the room and words were exchanged.
Lilly heard a loud crash come from the other side of the wall. She
couldn’t hide behind her cascading blonde hair much longer. Tears
became entangled in her hair as she heard her father’s words.
Hurtful, mean, nasty words. Words that burned a hole into little
Lilly’s heart. Lilly peered around the end of the dry wall dividing the
small apartment into two rooms. Lilly felt more tears roll down her
freckled cheeks as she turned away from the fight and pressed her
back into the wall. She got her freckles from her father, but at this

moment she wished she hadn’t. Her long hair was
pinned between the wall and her small narrow shoul-
ders now.
She could hear the words growing more and more
vile. They were being thrown at her mother at unman-
ageable speed. Boom! Another loud crash, her father
had taken his fist straight through the wall that was
originally behind him. He was a smaller man but he
was powerful, and the wall he had turned around to
had just felt that power. The words paused for a brief
moment and Lilly began her way across the room.
She was in, to the stairs. Her little legs could not
stumble up the stairs fast enough. The pause ended
with a door slamming and Lilly making her way up the
stairs with unstoppable tears.
When she reached the top of the stairs she
made her way to the landing. She was barely tall
enough to see over the banister but gazed down on
the room below. There she found her father alone in
a chair at the end of the table. His face was buried
in his burly hands, one of which was now covered in

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Coming Untied

dust. It would bruise soon enough. She moved to the opposite side
of the loft where a large bay window was placed. She had spent so
many nights stargazing with her mom here, peering out the window
with eyes to the stars. She would nuzzle into her mother and all
would be calm. For a brief moment that memory brought back the
smell of her mom’s hair. It was a lot like her own, long and blonde
with a slight wave. Now the window that brought good memories
was being used to gaze at the street below.
She watched as her mother ran through the street despite
having no rain jacket. Lilly thought about how sad her mother must
have been to leave behind a coat. She was always badgering Lilly
about how she needed to wear her raincoat to keep her warm. She
must have been so upset because she left her shoe untied too.
Lily examined her entire outfit once more. Her mother was small so
there wasn’t much to look at but Lilly couldn’t take her eyes off her.
Lilly’s eyes continued along her mother’s body until she fixated on
her mother’s untied left shoe once more. Lilly had just learned to tie
her own. Her mother had pestered her about it, saying “sweetheart
you’re going to trip; you must learn to tie your shoes.”
Lilly decided at that moment to follow her mother. She raced
down the steps avoiding her father as she fled the little apartment.
She had to help her mom. They were both so sad, they could help
each other. She just had to find her. She knew she couldn’t lose
her mom. Lilly reached the bottom of the steps out front, looked
both ways and crossed the street. She headed in the direction that
passed the large bay window.
Lilly was now in a full sprint. She was small and stumbling in
the rain but she was determined. She ran through the rain as the
drops blended with her tears as they hit her face. Then she reached
a corner and stopped dead in her tracks. Across the street was a

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Coming Untied

bus stop and a divot in the sidewalk where the sign was placed.
Water had flooded the small divot. She saw a single shoe now
soaked with the puddling water. She knew that everything changed
for her at that moment. She didn’t fully understand why, but things
would be different. She would never see her parents in the same
room again. •

Dream come true for an introvert

6 word memoir

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photography

| Abby Groff

10

Living in a future history lesson.

6 word memoir

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photograpy

Tub | Anya Vanasdale

12

pencil drawing

| Molly Teets

13

poetry

Seasons of Home

Kathryn Stone

Seasons of home
The air is warm yet cold, with a comforting feeling of serenity bound

in silence.
I take a seat on the ancient wooden bench as I look out upon the
life I once knew. My mind drifts towards distant memories of days

long gone.
A boat sails across the kinetic waters,
her smile sparkling brighter than the sun’s reflection, The wrinkles
around her eyes show the battle scars of age and the refusal to
give up upon a childhood dream. “You will get there one day” she

says.
The wind sweeps through the grass like a herd of wild cattle

scuffing up my skirt and flowing through my hair.
The wind whispers regrets of which I don’t
remember and the feel of home among mid
December

The snow descends from the dark sky like angels
upon a dream

The trees tower around us, being our defense
against the winter’s harsh bite. Her laugh rang

throughout the white fantasy,
Like she was the only being on the planet.
“It won’t be easy, but it will be better.” she

whispers

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Seasons of Home

The glow of the stars fill the void around me like they remembered
where I was.

I look out at the vastness of space and smile at the thought of my
inanimate companions.

Leaves cascade around us like a spirit of long forgotten days
The chill of fall whispering carefree promises of days spent well.
Her grey hair flies with the wind around us as she dances with the
leaves “The fun is found in the journey, not the destination.” she

laughed
I look out at the spinning planet before me and reminisce on my

days of life spent there. My days of life in the sun.
And I can’t help but wonder what happened to those days, and if I
ever might see them again. But as I look out on the grassy plains

before me I can’t help but smile at the memory.
The scent of spring filled my lungs as we lay in the fields of tulips

and roses.
The sun’s warmth brought the newfound joy and rebirth that came

with spring.
Her old age revealed itself in her eyes as she watched the clouds
float on by to another lifetime . “Someday will be one day, don’t ever
forget about that.” her wise words echoed. “Promise me you won’t

ever forget, okay?” She smiled
I feel a familiar presence of home and my heart warms thinking

back upon those days.
The life now will never be the life then, but beauty is found within

the strength to change and the patience to remember.
The seasons may not be as full of life, weather not as beautiful, or

life not as vibrant. But the memories still are.
“Okay” I say“I promise” •

15

Can I-- No. What about-- No.

6 word memoir

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poetry

The Mask | Kathryn Stone

The mask is a sense of comfort,
The mask is a sense of peace.
The mask is a safe fortress from the outside,
But that mask will one day crack.
And the ravine it creates will cut so deep
That no water can fill,
And no light can find.
This crack will open to reality one’s hidden state of mind. •

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drawing

Study |

AnnaMarie DeGuzman

18

found poetry

| Aiden Zacher

A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas river drops in close
to the hillside bank and runs deep and green
There lived a boy who dreamed of a new world
On one side of the river the golden foothill slopes
Where he read of adventure
On one side the green foothill slopes curve up to the strong
rocky Gabriel mountains.

Where danger was lurking.
But on the valley side of the water is lined with
trees.
Where he explored in the days of his youth
There is a path through the willows, and among
the sycamores.
This is the trail where his adventure started.•

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painting

Farewell Lake |

Molly Goldsmith

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I drove to school for fun.

6 word memoir

21

free verse poetry

| Dominic Le

The Slug lethargic
As it slowly
Goes by the
Spider’s large web
Flies caught, struggling
To be free.
Slowly the spider
Creeps towards the
Flies. The spider
Wraps the flies
And saves it
For later. The
Slug continues to
Find a Leaf
To eat. The
Slug found a
Nice leaf to
Eat. And now
He rests in
The Moon’s light. •

22

I used to like my family.

6 word memoir

23

mixed media

| Abigail Waldren

24

drawing

| Brianna Stokes

25

short story

| Aiden Bee

Waking up on a summer day, Light filling the room, The clock reads
ten fifty-three, Meaning the man slept far too long, As he jumps out
of bed in a hurry, He wonders how he slept in, He grabbed his be-
longings and sprinted through the door, He is driving along trying to
make it to his work, When he sees an old man holding a sign, The
sign reads, “Today is Saturday and you have no where to be”. The
man sits and thinks, then turns around to home. •

26

photography

White Flower |

Katrina Gunther

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free verse poetry

| Anna Schneider

thought of the days
I sat in the classroom, heartbeat racing
My foot on the floor, bouncing pacing
I need to get out of here I need to stop
My mind is twisting my hands just fidgeting
I can’t stop moving and can’t stop thinking
I wanna go home like can I just not
I wanna stop thinking I wanna stop moving
I wanna stop fidgeting I wanna stop
I NEED to go home I need to rant
I need some friends I need to—
BriRRRRring •

28

poetry

| Kat Gunther

Like the waves of the
ocean Rocking back
and forth Sometimes I
get lost in the sea of my
mind Thoughts swirling
about Creating a
whirlpool It’s hard to
stay afloat But I know
how to swim back to
shore And let the water
stay behind As I enter
the shore of reality But
the ocean never leaves
So it’s always there If I
want to dive back in •

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An endless cycle of restless relaxation

6 word memoir

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free verse poetry

A Simple Man |

William Shaffer

As i had grown up,
i was always told
i was destined to be a simple man.
This wasn’t fair, it couldn’t be true.
i wouldn’t grown old
Watching my hard work taken by my Master as His own.

i had to go.
But when? How? Where to?
Always someday, but never today.
At last, the opportunity came

To escape,
To start life anew.
As my Master left to do business in some other place,

I ran.
I ran as far as I could.
With me, I took My hopes, My dreams, My ideas
Praying the opportunity had come to Me at last

To be Somebody.
I joined a crew of simple men like Myself.

All hoping to be
The next success story to be remembered through the ages.

They loved Me.

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a simple man

They loved My ideas.
They said the Master would love them too.

“The Master?” i thought to myself.
Every ounce of pain, anger, and failure came flooding back.

“Here He comes,” i heard one say.
It couldn’t be.

It just couldn’t be.
But alas, it was.
i guess it was true.
i would always be
A simple man.•

32

mixed media

| Abigail Waldren

33

painting

| Rebecca Palone

34

free verse poetry

Ride | Mariana Perez Flores

A city of splattered paint
Double sided and dripping with tears
Has tiny suns
That illuminate the path
While a law sits on the right side
A River sways ships down alley
And a set of green eyes bat for you
Passing underneath ruins
A hunter wears down his journey
Once more through old land •

photography

| Jasmyn

Mohamed

35

poetry

Please Give In |

Catharina Le

You would always try to look slim,
Try to fit into yourself.
I never wanted to care.
I never wanted to know how a woman is depicted.
I never wanted to know the standards I HAVE to fill.
I look and look and see a piece of meat that the world disagrees
with.
You say just eat little bites.
Just a little jog.
No soda,
No fries,
No chips.
They say that it’s easy.
They only praise a certain size.
They sit and respect a stick,
But stand and holler at a cow.
I never wanted to know but words and experiences sink in.
Through my skin,
Through my brain,
Through my heart. •

36

Please Give In

But you don’t care.
The only thing they care about is whether or not I want to have kids.
If I am gonna use the thing God gave me .
They care about my body,
They care about my looks,
I never wanted to know that I don’t fit in the standard,
I never wanted to know that I needed to fit the standard in order to
feel loved. •

37

free verse poetry

| Clarissa Le

My tears had finally disappeared, once again
As I walk along the seashore

Hearing the waves splash against the sand
Bewitching me, my eyes couldn’t let go

Without realizing how many hours have passed
the sun was slowly descending

As I stared at the sunset I could feel it’s eyes on me
Everything around me was moving but I stood in place

standing there, like I always do
Catching a glimpse of the soft waves that pass

Feeling the breeze against my skin
Admiring the sand grains rubbing at my feet
Twisting my head to look into the vast sea
It was calling to me, reaching out to lure me in
Without hesitation my legs had moved on it’s own

Placing my body in with the currents
Embracing the ocean’s hug

The worry and sorrow I had, vanished not to be witnessed again •

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photography

| Zofia Jagerova

39

poetry

Blessed Breeze |

Abby Groff

My window has a crack in it and it lets in a breeze every morning
that never fails to wake me up. I have dragon skin shades, but only
the standard, not the fancy charcoal studded curtains. While my
shades block out light they fail to stop that antagonizing breeze.
Most mornings I’m bitter due to my rude awakening. However this
morning, I don’t mind. Actually I am rather grateful. I don’t know
how much longer I could live in that mundane world, it was truly a
nightmare my mind conjured up.
I never really understand how my dreams begin. I’m only
conscious enough to remember at the end. This one was truly the
most terrifying of them all though. By the time I became conscious
enough to remember the happenings I was in a classroom. At
least I think it was a classroom, but instead of the usual instructor
dressed in chain link and fire forged armor, they were dressed in
pants. Pants I guess could be described as tan, but it was not near-
ly as vivid or interesting. There was no movement of the color in the
light. It was boring. I assume it was a classroom because the man
dressed in the uninteresting pants and ugly lined shirt was teach-
ing. Instead of teaching something necessary though, like how to
grow a frog in order to get to school on time, he was describing how
to turn a wheel. “Hands at 9:00 and 3:00” he kept saying. I didn’t
understand. I just felt an overwhelming feeling of tiredness. I want-
ed to sleep. I’ve never felt that in my classes before.
I tend to follow the procedure of: get to school, watch my
brother shrink the frog, place him in his cage and put the cage in

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Blessed Breeze

my locker. My brother says he doesn’t want his locker smelling like
a frog, so I have to keep the frog in my locker. Next, I dress in my
armor, but I only have the snakeskin armor. I’m working my way up
to dragonskin. Then I make way to my first class. I haven’t learned
how to drive a frog yet, so I usually watch Clyde, my older brother,
do that part on the way to school. I am in driving classes now, so
I’ll get there. When I get to class I gather my materials. I grab a
training frog out of the cages in the back of the room and then take
my positions in formation. The professor then demonstrates how
to grow the frog, but since they are training frogs they only grow
to half the size. The formation my class is in allows us just enough
room where we can jump back if we need to.
In my dream we were not in formation for the day. I didn’t un-
derstand what this sitting in desks was meant to do, and what is a
“motor vehicle”. It is so much easier to just tell the frog where to go,
then let him hop. As I was pondering the purpose of these wood-
en tables everyone around me stood up one by one. I got up and
followed them to a black lot filled with these “motor vehicles”. Then
they all got in different cars from the left side. They all grabbed the
wheel while I stood still and watched. They turned it and the thing
they were sitting in moved, the whole thing. Then the instructor in-
dicated to me it was my turn. I stepped up to the rolling box but had
no idea how they got in. I wondered why they got in and didn’t just
sit on top. Then, everyone began to pull out of the section of the
ground that was black with yellow lines. How and why didn’t these
things hop if they were meant for transportation?
The man in the boring pants got in on the opposite side of the car
by pulling a latch on the door, so I did the same on my side. He put
a strap across his chest that led to a hole near his side. I realized
I had one too, so I did the same. Then he said, “Okay, now go and
pull into the parking lot across the street”. What in Euphoria’s gal-
axy is a parking lot, I thought. I put my hands on that wheel thing
and I could feel his stare on me. I turned but his eyes didn’t turn

41

Blessed Breeze

orange like they were supposed to when you lock eyes with some-
one. Wherever this place was it wasn’t home. I went to press on
the thin strip near my foot, the one attached to the “motor vehicle”
near the bottom. That was when I felt a cut of coolness through the
sensation of heat I was feeling. While I wanted to know what would
happen if I pressed my foot to the lever. I was overall okay with
never finding out. The cold pulled me away. It cut right through the
heat of my anxiety.
I was all of a sudden back in my room. The cold air was from my
window. I looked up and the kitchen was on the ceiling just where
I left it. Although I was curious about how things worked in that
mundane universe, I am now filled with overwhelming gratitude and
security. The coldness pulled me away from that nightmare. Thank
goodness, because the heat I was feeling was intense. Stress has
never overpowered me like that before. While I am curious about
that other living style I am relieved to be right back here. For once
that annoying breeze actually had a positive effect. I will be more
grateful for the normal things in my real life from now on. However,
I am definitely still going to get George the hedgehog fairy to fix that
crack.•

42

Self P o r t mixed media painting

rait|

CaroleAnn Green

43

painting

Through a Window |

Gabriella Gualtieri

44

Am I hungry or bored? Yes.

6 word memoir

45

poetry

Homeland |

Mariana Perez Flores

In the heart that was formed on southern region
Molded by angels
Where they played with mud
And built a fiery mountain
Where God blesses the soil with children
Who were colors on a rainbow
Whom I love
Who swayed the sky on their hips
And played dress up
They adorned their hair with ribbons and feathers
Where flowers started to sprout
Because they are the whole earth inside
Is where my soul and heart beat. •

46

free verse poetry

Burning | Catharina Le

My blood would always boil,
Breathing in that energetic fire of song and dance.
As my eyes see all the colors
Burn away together into a passionate show.
As the people are burning so brightly,
Showing off their skin with pride and joy.

Shamelessly we nod our heads to the beat we know in our
minds.
As our bloody feet beautifully dance with nothing but the
buzz of music in our ears.
As our screams fill the vibrant air,
This is our song,
This is Us.
And with this fire, may our souls keep burning.
Through wind and storm, may this passion never die.
It will be passed on, to the wild fire. •

47

Pastel Drawing

Daniel | Gabriella Baiges

48

poetry

My Love, My Love
is With You | Caden Lester

If you think That you cannot
be helped I can promise you
will be better No matter what you

have felt It will get better
Now If you think You will never recover
From all this suffer I can promise you

We can make everything new and
better •

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