The 2019 Roaring Run Review

By: Sam Best
43

Get Me a Show on TV

By: CJ Kovalsky

“Get me a show on TV”
I want to be rich
I don’t want to be homeless
End up in a ditch
I want to travel, go places
see lots of new things
Meet exotic new faces
Hear new songbirds sing
But that’s just a dream;
I don’t have that much
But I’d never trade my life
For 6 billion bucks
As my life is mine, no others’ the same
And for 6 billion bucks we’d all go insane

44

Wreckage

By: Katie Krueger and Haley Gochnauer

Glass Broken, windows shattered, horns beeping, blood gushing, heads ringing.

Skylar’s black tennis shoes hit the road one blunt pound at a time as she painfully made
her way out of her newly wrecked vehicle. She made an effort to stand to her full height and
began limping over to the other car, equally, if not more damaged than hers. With wet tears
streaming down her tan face, she prays that the passengers are still alive. She approaches the
other car, unsure about everything except the feeling of horror she’s never experienced in her
entire twenty years of life.
“What have I done, oh, what have I done?” Skylar utters under her breath, inching closer and
closer to the damage. Unrecognizable car parts are spread widely across the road, causing her
worry to heighten further.
Skylar slides her worried eyes ever so slowly to the driver’s side window. Blood courses through
her entire body; a single thought racing through her mind: this person needs to be alive. She
doesn’t let herself imagine the worst.
Skylar dares not to breathe as she shifts her pale eyes into the driver’s window. A dark brunette
girl with olive skin is propped in a sitting position with bright red blood gushing from her
forehead. Skylar examines the girl--no older than herself--with such intense precision that she
can’t help but see that the girl is breathing! Relief courses through every ounce of Skylar at the
basic fact which circles in her head: this girl is a survivor.  
“Oh thank goodness.” She says in relief, lifting her delicate head to the clouds. She exhales a
deep breath, letting go of the knots that were previously bound tightly in her stomach.
The driver opens her eyes to greet consciousness. She assesses herself for the briefest second
before hobbling out of the car, her heels making gentle clicks as they hit the black top.
Skylar couldn’t contain her intense feeling of relief when exclaiming, “Hi, my name is Skylar
White, I am so so ---” The brunette held up her manicured hand in one swift motion, quieting
Skylar with no words at all. The girl looked at her with such intense rage that no words have
been exchanged, but intentions are crystal clear. The brunette holds herself an entire head taller
than Skylar before speaking in an aggravated and direct tone.
“I don’t care what your name is. You almost killed me, not to mention, you destroyed my car!
Who do you think you are running a red light? Do you know that is against the law? Do you even
care!” Not only did her words sting, but the intensity of her eyes caused fear to run through
Skylar once again.
“Let me explain...,” Skylar meekly began, but ended up not being able to finish.
“I don’t want your explanation! You’re going to --”
“It wasn’t my fault!” Skylar cries out, desperate for her story to be told. In a desperate attempt to
make amends, she reaches out and places her small hand on the girl’s shoulder, only to be
violently nudged away in disgust.
“If it wasn’t your fault, then whose fault was it? Your imaginary friend? A zebra? Whose fault,
tell me?” the driver sneered sarcastically. It was clear as daylight that the brunette thought Skylar
was an absolute lunatic and wanted nothing to do with her ever again.
Losing hope, Skylar tries one last time to ask a mundane question, “can you at least tell me your
name?” At this, the girl stiffens her well-postured shoulders but eventually exhales the faintest of

45

breaths. She turns around so the back of her navy suit is facing Skylar; no eye contact to invite a
personal connection.
Skylar felt herself losing all hope, no one would believe her story, this girl wouldn’t even listen.
There was a long pause of dead silence. Unexplained weight pressed firmly in Skylar’s mind--
this would only end in unrest and disaster.
“It’s Claire -- my name -- Claire Rowan.” Her voice was a soft whisper and for the briefest
moment, Skylar hoped she could somehow be forgiven for an accident she didn’t fully commit.
She glimpsed the pain hidden deep within Claire’s green eyes--there was hope for redemption.
But as Skylar peered closer, she saw the ice in Claire’s glare form at her one chance of true
forgiveness.
Claire faced Skylar. One looking for forgiveness; the other searching for revenge.
“Let me hear your story. I am sick and tired of you acting like a puppy who has just peed in the
house. Be an adult. Tell me your side… I don’t have all day,” Claire rudely stated. She felt no
sympathy for this pathetic reckless driver who was standing before her.
“Thank you so much! I really appreciate it,” Skylar said with an air of relief, but before Skylar
could even blink, the kindness within Claire turned back to brutality and ice.
Claire, already fed up, again rudely snarled, “get on with it Sophia, tick tock.” She stood there
rolling her eyes deep into the back of her head.
“It’s Skylar, but anyways, you see I was planning to stop when the car totally started acting like
it had a mind of its own. The wheel started spinning rapidly, my brakes completely stopped
working, my radio was switching channels, my mirrors were rotating up and down, my horn lost
all sound, and my speed was increasing. It was like my car was a toy and being controlled by a
remote. I am a good and safe driver; I would never run a red light. Extremely weird things have
been happening to me in the past few days and this just adds to it. This incident has been the
worse yet. Please, you have to believe me, nobody will. I don’t know what’s happening, but I can
promise this accident was not because of my driving.” Skylar had tears flowing from her sincere
eyes, black from mixing with her mascara. Her face was white, her body shaking. She was scared
out of her mind and didn’t know what was going to happen next.
Claire, as still as a wall, just stood there. Another pause of dead silence occurred between them.
Appearing to show her soft side, Claire sighed and quietly muttered, “I really want to believe
you, but I don’t know how to.” There was another pause. In that pause, Claire’s attitude quickly
changed. Her eyes grew angrier by the second and she formed a fist in both of her hands. She
then raised her hands above her ahead and then pointed them toward Skylar. “Would you like to
know why I don’t know how to believe you?” Claire’s voice was rising with rage, “BECAUSE
YOU ARE PSYCHOTIC! A PSYCHOPATH! YES! You heard me. Your car is NOT a toy and
it is CERTAINLY NOT being controlled by a remote. Are you serious?! You really thought I
was going to believe that? Do I look nine to you? YOU didn’t stop at the red light, YOU didn’t
hit your brake, and YOU hit my car. It was YOU! So take your ridiculous story and go shove it
up your-!” Claire held herself back, but she was steaming at this point.
Skylar was in shock; she understood Claire was mean, but not this mean. Skylar’s soul was
crushed. Her eyes puffy and red, Skylar managed to say, “You have to believe me. I’m telling
the truth. I know I sound delirious, but Claire, please, I can prove it.” Skylar was an inch away
from losing all hope that no one would ever believe her story. She looked as if she was about to
be eaten by sharks.
“Believe you, ha, funny joke,” Claire snarled, “I don’t want your proof. I have a better idea!
Bring it to the judge!” Claire stalked off to the nearest cop, leaving Skylar frozen in her own

46

mess. There was nothing Skylar could do, nothing she could say, nothing she could fix. From
that moment on, Skylar transformed into a new person. The spark in her eye that once shined so
bright was wiped away with her final tear, the color in her face faded away, and the purity of her
heart was replaced by an abyss of darkness.  
Binoculars, being used from afar, were removed from the face of a monster. A devious smile
came across their face. This was what they had planned for all along. They had broken Skylar
White. Opening their black backpack, they gently placed the binoculars and a remote controller
in their bag. Slowly, the shadow of this monster vanished into the darkness of the night.

47

By: Jack DeMola
48

The Waiter’s Rainy Day

By: Noah Spencer and Dayyan Noble

Another sluggish crawl out of bed. Another bland breakfast. Another monotonous bike
ride to work. This is what every morning was like for Craig Cooper. Ever since he was able to
afford his tiny apartment on the West side of Baltimore, the days began to seamlessly transition
from one to the next. This day, however, was bound to be different; Craig was expecting
something life-changing in the mail that night, and all he had to do was wait.

Craig, as he did every morning, left the house at 7 o’clock sharp. Despite his neighbor
trying to call him over to talk about the previous night’s basketball game, and his dog, drooling
from the jowls, rolling a ball towards his feet, begging to play, Craig ignored them both; he could
not afford any random variables jeopardizing his day. As he biked down the road, it started to
rain. Not unlikely for a mid-April day on the East coast, but for no reason (other than laziness)
did Craig miss the memo. He hit himself for letting the forecast slip his mind. He pedaled
helplessly as the cars on the street splashed him with cold, murky water. Oh, what Craig
wouldn’t do for a car! The closest thing he knew to safe, speedy transportation was the subway
that he took on Friday after work. Despite his rainy ride, the reassurance of what he would
receive when he got back home made him cycle even faster.

He finally arrived at Marlin’s Seafood diner where he had waited tables for just over a
year. Work was the only thing Craig looked forward to; he loved his job and everything it
entailed. His co-workers had become some of his closest friends, and he enjoyed holding
conversations with the people he served. He even thought that his civic duty to the community
was fulfilled as he put smiles on his customers’ faces. His dull life at home completely
contrasted his fast-paced job. His love for the diner was perhaps the only reason that he even
came into work that day; he wanted to say his final goodbyes to the people he had come to know
in the past year. However, for a day to end as uniquely as this day would, something different
was bound to happen, and this day was by far the most peculiar of Craig’s life.

Craig chose to wait until the end of his shift to tell everyone that he wouldn’t be coming
back the next day, or any other day for that matter. The day went by quickly, but minutes before
he was ready to clock out and break the news, in came two customers, and it was Craig’s turn to
serve. The two were like no other Craig had seen before. One was an older man who seemed to
be around 55, his raiment’s were thick and expensive, and he sported a golden ring, studded with
diamonds on each finger. The other was a beautiful, young lady in a lovely dress and six-inch
heels. The two were obviously luxuriant; Craig wondered what they were doing at a low-class
diner such as Marlin’s.

Craig took them to a table and introduced himself, he had thought that the older man was
the father of the lady, but it turned out that they were a couple from Hollywood who were
visiting each state. The age difference of the man and woman shocked Craig. As he talked to the
couple, he became more and more disturbed. They mocked Craig’s wet, worn out shoes, and
made fun of everyone in the diner, as if they were superior in every way. The older man also
continuously made several suggestive comments toward his partner, for everyone to hear. They
made the entire diner uncomfortable. Craig was disgusted; is this what wealth does to a person?
Regardless, Craig continued serving the couple, and responded positively to them no matter how
much they elicited him. When the contemptible couple left, Craig had some thinking to do.
When he got home, a million-dollar life insurance check, the one that had been in the back of his
mind ever since his grandmother’s unfortunate passing, would be waiting for him.

49

Craig made up his mind. He decided not to quit his job, and he contently biked home. He
went to his mailbox and took out the check. He promised himself that the money inside that
envelope would never turn him into the man whom he served that day. He bought a modest car, a
Honda Accord, but continued to ride his bike to work, only driving his car when it rained.

50

Losing Control

By: Emma Leonard

A cold sweat dripped down her back as she sat up in her bed. The dark room cleared as
her eyes adjusted, but a sinking feeling grew in her chest and once again the room became
blurry, only this time because of the tears forming at the back of her eyes. Her grip on the
blankets around her tightened until her knuckles turned white. All she could do was stare ahead,
at least that’s what it looked like to an outsider. In reality, her mind was not present, it was
wandering into dangerous scenes of the past, into a place that she could barely escape from.

Breath, in and out, that’s what her therapist told her to do when she was overtaken by one
of her “episodes,” yet it only became harder for her once she delved deeper and deeper into her
mind like this. Once the tears began and her breaths turned short and her body trembled
uncontrollably, there was still a slim chance she would save herself.

Senses began to shut off, all she could hear was his voice, his sinister laugh. With eyes
shut tightly, all she could do was shake like a Chihuahua and pray for it to end as her mind
relived every second. A dark cloud, that’s what it was. A haze that would not lift, obscuring the
real world from her. To be trapped within oneself, there is no greater pain.

Out of the haze, there were muffled voices. A long whine resounded right next to her ear.
Something touched her, and she instinctively lurched away, cowering into herself more. Then,
out of the darkness, a scent slowly broke through the barrier of her mind. Maybe it was mint?
Now that something focused her mind elsewhere, the sharp aroma purified the air as she
consciously slowed her breathing. A deep inhale, the haze started to lift. Another breath, and one
by one her muscles relaxed, settling into a state of calmness, and yet it was still not over. She
allowed her eyes to open up, relieving her sight to come back, showing her that she was safe in
her room.

Two pairs of eyes peered at her in concern. The hand of Riley’s mother carefully reached
out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, the hand shook as if she was trying to avoid
causing more damage to her little girl. The second pair of eyes belonged to a little head that was
cocked to the side in confusion. Riley cracked a forced smile, her dry lips reaching to show that
she was better, even though everyone in the room already knew she clearly wasn’t. She caressed
the head of her dog who leaned into Riley’s touch. As she continued to pet her dog, her eyes
drifted down to her lap in shame. “I’m sorry mama, I’m so sorry.” A soft hand came up to her
face and wiped away the tears she had not realized were streaming down from her eyes. “My
love, there is nothing to be sorry for.” Her mother cooed in a lilted voice. “I am always here for
you. And little Maggie is here for you too.”

A light laugh came from her mother’s lips, and it was soon complimented by a hoarse
laugh from her daughter. No other words were needed to be spoken. Riley’s mother crawled
underneath the sheets and encouraged her daughter to do the same. Maggie, who was also
exhausted, planted herself right between mother and daughter.

Riley’s eyes started to droop down until they were fully closed. Her last thought was of
her father and how she hoped she did not wake him up, before she drifted back to sleep. What
she did not know, was that her father woke up in the middle of the night, only to see his lovely
wife gone. The rest of the night, he had not slept a wink; instead he checked up on his little girl
every hour, tip-toeing between both bedrooms each time. All he could think of was how every
year Riley grew, the more he found himself losing control.

51

That next morning, the house had once again come alive with the light of the dawn. Riley
woke to see her mother had already gotten up leaving almost no trace of her even being there at
all. The sheets and quilt had both been tucked neatly back into place and now it was only Riley’s
side that was strewn about the place in a disorderly fashion. Despite taking a few minutes to
prepare herself mentally for the day, Riley was barely able to get out of bed. She padded over to
her dresser, so she could pick out clothes for the day. It came down to a pair of her most
comfortable sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Downstairs, Riley was met by both of her parents,
both already ready for work. Luckily for her, neither questioned her choice of clothes today.
Instead her father gave her a warm embrace and, although she hated to admit it, she melted into
the hug. At that moment, the strong aroma of pancakes and fresh berries filled her senses; the
best breakfast in Riley’s opinion. She slid into her designated chair and let her eyes flit across the
heavenly breakfast her mom made for her. Within seconds she had dug into the pancakes with a
hungry fervor that had her stomach and taste buds reeling in delight. “Somebody was hungry,”
her mother commented with a quick smile. Just as Riley got up and put her empty plate in the
sink, a loud honk resounded from out front. Riley smiled, kissed both her parents on the cheek,
and gave her pup a big hug before running out to see her best friend, Lana. She sat in a maroon
convertible that was customized just for her which flaunted the obvious money her family had,
but that didn’t matter to Riley.

Lana pulled down her sunglasses to look at Riley with her dark brown eyes that gleamed
with affection and smiled her radiant smile that Riley loved. She waved her hand wildly in the air
to signal Riley to get in the car. She lightly jogged up to the passenger’s side. After she slid in,
Lana stepped on the pedal and they were off to the prison called school. While at a stop light,
Lana spun to Riley and read her like an open book, “Okay girly, start talking. Something is up, I
know it.” Caught red-handed, all Riley could do was stutter until the light turned green. Lana just
gave her a look that they would talk about it later before speeding past the light. They continued
in silence the whole way there with no more red lights to stop them. The roar of the wind could
be heard as it threw their hair in all directions. Riley embraced this small sense of freedom. The
freedom, however, was short-lived seeing as they had arrived at school in just seven minutes.

When they had parked in the school parking lot, Riley jumped out and began a fast-paced
walk to her first class. She could hear Lana yelling at her that she couldn’t avoid talking to her
for the whole day, but she let it fade into the distance. Lana was an amazing friend, always had
been, but Riley didn’t want to burden Lana with her screwed up life and lose control of her
emotions once again. So, instead, her only option was to go to class, a place that only messed
with her head even more. As she trudged through the halls, people passing gave her small smiles
and said quick greetings here and there. Riley, of course, returned their kindness, but only with a
fake smile that was meant to mask how much she dreaded the day to come. It wasn’t that Riley
was a bad student or that she was bullied by anyone; in fact, people were very nice to her and she
always got high grades. The problem was her perfectionistic qualities that gave her anxiety every
time she came to school for fear that she would fail. In and out. Breathe, she told herself. She
knew there was no reason to feel this way. Still, she couldn’t help that crushing feeling on her
chest as she walked into her first and most stressful class, French. “And another day begins,” she
whispered.

The day went by in a blur and before she knew it the last period was just about over, and
Riley had successfully avoided talking to Lana about what had happened last night by changing
the subject every time. She could tell Lana had grown frustrated with her, but Riley feared the

52

outcome of her accidently spilling out her secret to her best friend. Lana finally cracked, “That’s
it,” she screeched. Riley was taken aback, she had never seen Lana get so frustrated with her.
“Please, you need to talk to me Riles.” Her voice softened, and her eyes looked down at Riley,
pleading with her. “You have been so distant lately. You’ve been isolating yourself, ever since...
It couldn’t have been that bad of a break up, could it?”

Memories replayed in her brain. No, not memories. Nightmares. I am strong, she told
herself. I will not cry, she commanded. Her body betrayed her. Tears streamed down her cheeks
as she thought about what he did. The breath from her lungs escaped her and she couldn’t
capture it again. It fled from her lips in a hazardous rhythm, and she ran from the room. Lana
followed her friend. When she arrived, she witnessed the once put together girl crumble into a
heap on the floor. Lana, despite the known fact to never touch someone in such a state that Riley
was in, wrapped her arms loosely around her best friend. “I’m so,” Riley hiccupped, “sorry.”
Lana shook her head profusely as she tried to reassure Riley that there was nothing to be sorry
for; that she loved her. “I never wanted to burden you.” She managed to get out. “You could
never burden me, love. I just wanted to know what had been hurting you so badly.”

After sitting in silence for three minutes, Riley had calmed down enough to lift her head
up. Lana quickly rearranged Riley’s hair so that it was no longer stuck to her face and she wiped
the tears from her cheeks. “You’re right. I need to let it out.” Riley inhaled deeply and began her
story in short. She brushed through the basics of her relationship. How he was kind, how she
thought she loved him. It climaxed to when she retold the mental and physical abuse, and finally,
to the charges she made against him. Riley told of how she went to a judge and how there was
never any justice. And finally, how she fears he will come after her again, because he is still out
there with the idea that he could get away with it.

Lana held Riley in her arms and whispered into her ear. “You are the strongest girl I have
ever known, Riles.” Lana murmured as she brought Riley’s head up so that their eyes could
meet. “And I think I love you even more than ever.”
They stared at one another for a quick beat, Lana asking for acceptance, and Riley granting it.
******************************************************************************
Riley’s peaceful place was interrupted by someone climbing up to sit beside her. Riley never
looked over, and the other person never talked, but she knew who it was.
She and Lana laid there and looked up at the stars above for what seemed like forever. It was
perfect, there was no tension between them, no anger or fear. It was probably the first time in a
while that Riley felt at peace.

“I’m not what you deserve, Lana.” Riley’s voice shakily responded. “I’m messed up and
I don’t even know if I can love, in fact, I’m scared of love.”

“Then take your time, but I won’t leave your side as you take each step towards your
happiness.” Riley sighed with content and closed her eyes. Despite feeling as if she was losing
control once again, it was a good sensation. The full moon lit up their secret spot on that roof and
the both of them were able to fall asleep. They soon entered the best slumber both had received
in a long time.

53

Heart Broken Like a Wooden Board

By: Josie Henderson

Bennie Angela Davis was the name echoing through her head one cloudy day in
September. The young teen stared at her notes. She had done it again. “Urgg.” Emily quickly
erased her crush’s name off her notes along with the heart. Wait. My last name isn’t Davis...
Great, another mistake. Right before lunch, too! Emily Johnson. There, all fixed! Thank goodness
no one— “Hey weeb!” Darn. “What do you want this time, Andy?” Emily muttered to the overly
energetic boy she called her friend. “Did you see that I dyed my hair?” He said with his huge
smile on his face. Emily looked up and saw that her friend had dyed his hair yet another crazy
color. It was a minty bluish color that looked awfully familiar. It looked like Bennie’s favorite
color. “Ah-ha! You hadn’t seen before! Anyway, I dyed it blue because as you know K-Pop is
my lifestyle, like anime is yours. My favorite member of my favorite band, well my favorite for
now, dyed his hair this color and I absolutely had to match him because he’s so amazing and—”
Emily decided to space out at this part because Andy could talk for hours and hours about K-Pop
without stopping. Emily saw the teacher come back and tried to get Andy’s attention, so he
wouldn’t get in trouble, but Andy was too occupied by the one-sided conversation that somehow
went from hair dye to fan wars. “Mr. Finnigan get into your seat right now!” the teacher
bellowed as he entered the room. Andy quickly scrambled back to his seat. The lesson continued
as normal. Emily daydreamed about her helpless crush, Andy watched “Weekly Idol” in the back
of the room, and most others paid attention.

After class, Andy cornered Emily as she was trying to leave. Emily was not in the mood
to have her ear talked off about BIGPINK Entertainment, or whatever band he wanted to talk
about.

“I saw you writing Bennie’s name on your paper. Isn’t she that girl from your karate that
everyone calls bad?” Oh yes. The nickname she got. Bad. She’s good at karate and her initials
spell it out. Why bad? Because she broke someone’s arm on accident.

“Yeah, she’s called that. But she’s too nice to be called that!” Emily exclaimed in
frustration.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
After school, Emily waved goodbye to Andy and sprinted home to get ready for karate.
She pulled on her uniform and raced to her car to get there. It’s not like she was late, but Emily
knew that the demo team had a practice right before her class. Lucky for her, Bennie was on the
demo team. Emily arrived just as the demo team was starting. She quickly looked at her
reflection in the mirror. What she saw was boring, brown eyes matched with brown hair. Her
face was full of acne, and her skin was so pale that it looked as though she hadn’t seen the sun in
years. Well, it’s better than I thought I’d look. She mused. Emily rushed inside, quickly setting
her shoes and hanbo in a cubby, and grabbing a seat.
Looking through the viewing glass, Emily saw her. Bennie. Bennie’s black hair was dyed
red at the tips and swayed back and forth while she was concentrating on her technique. Her
beautiful tan skin looked as flawless as ever. Emily sighed, wishing that she could be courageous
enough to ask her out. Then, Bennie saw her and waved. Okay, Emily, don’t freak out. Just wave.
It’s simple. Emily attempted to look cool as she waved, but ended up looking desperate for
attention. That couldn’t have gone worse. Emily thought to herself. Before long, it was time for
her class. Emily partnered up with Bennie, despite being so nervous about being close to her
crush.

54

“Hey BAD!” Ugh, Shane. The most annoying person in the whole dojo. He gives
everyone their nicknames. He hates Emily, which is probably why her nickname is “anxious
Emily.”

“Yeah Shane?” Bennie, no! Please don’t talk to him. Emily pleaded through her mind.
“Someone in this dojo has a huuuuuuuge crush on you!” Shane said, dragging out the u sound.
Emily attempted to plead through her mind again, this time to Shane. Please don’t reveal my
secret.

Bennie looked surprised. “Really? Someone has a crush on me? Who?” Shane smirked,
“I’ll tell you if the person doesn’t confess by Friday.” He then stared directly at Emily. “And I
definitely will tell you.” Emily’s face paled as she filled with panic. She had to tell Bennie how
she felt in less than three days!

Emily went home after karate. She grabbed the leftover chicken lo mein in her fridge and
ate all of it. She then proceeded to watch a show that she was sure would help her out, “Ouran
High School Host Club,” a desperate excuse. As expected, Emily didn’t learn how to confess her
love to Bennie, but she laughed a lot.

“I made a mistake.” Emily repeated for the twentieth time. It was currently two in the
morning, Emily just finished every episode of “Ouran High School Host Club,” and she still had
homework. Luckily, she ended up finishing her work in two hours, allowing her a whole two
hours of sleep.

“Emily! Emily! You will not believe what happened last night! BTS ANNOUNCED
THEIR UPCOMING TOUR! AND NCT127 IS PERFORMING AT MICKY’S 90th
BIRTHDAY I CAN’T WAIT!” Andy screamed. “Wait! Why do you look so upset? Did Shane
try to embarrass you in front of Bennie again?” He suddenly looked extremely concerned. Emily
broke down into tears. Andy quickly pulled her into a secluded area and hugged her.

“I-I-I have to confess to Bennie before Friday, or S-Shane will tell her that I love her.”
Emily sobbed. Andy tried his best to comfort her. “I can help you with confessing,” he started. “I
know a lot more about romance than you do.” That was true. Andy had a fair share of significant
others in his high school years.

“That would be great,” Emily muttered.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. Andy even refrained from talking about K-Pop.
After school, Andy went home with Emily where they would discuss how Emily would confess
to Bennie.
“Urgh! Musical fans are so weird!” Exclaimed Andy, frustrated that he couldn’t find a
good enough love song. “You could say the same thing about K-Pop fans,” Emily shot back.
“How dare you! I offer to help you out of the goodness of my heart and you insult me!”
Andy exclaimed with fake anger.
“You waited outside for two weeks to get to the front of general admission, in LA, for
one concert. Two weeks! There were even people in front of you! How is that not crazy?” Emily
exclaimed, not realizing that Andy was pretending to be upset.
“Your true words wound me Emily. Anyway, I found a good song. You said that
she likes ‘Dear Evan Hansen,’ so you should sing a modified version of ‘Only Us.’” Andy
shouted excitedly. “Why not,” Emily said with a smile.
The pair set to work on rewriting the lyrics to fit the situation. They spent hours on it.
Afterwards, they went out and got a small plush panda, Bennie’s favorite animal, and a box of
chocolates. Emily was feeling ready for her big moment. She even got permission from the head
Shidoshi to play the background music on the speaker at the dojo.

55

The next day was Thursday. It was the big day. “EMILY!!!!” Here comes the big
complaint of the day. Emily thought. “Okay, remember that band of small children that I told you
about?” Andy asked, waiting until he saw the nod from Emily. “Well…” Andy continued to rant
about how China wanted him to suffer and how Singapore wasn’t a country worth an exclusive
album while Emily tunes him out. She occasionally nodded to appear like she was listening. She
was more concerned about confessing to Bennie later. She was terrified. Unfortunately, Andy
wasn’t much of a distraction as he kept talking about Singapore. Just hope for the best. Emily
thought. The bell then decided to ring and the duo rushed off to their classes.

After school, Emily raced home. She ran in, got her karate uniform on, grabbed what she
needed for her confession, and got in her car to drive to karate. Emily arrived before class. Today
was a very lucky day, as there was a break between the demo team practice and her class. Ten
whole minutes to confess. Emily got ready to start singing. She then saw Bennie.

“Bennie, I need to tell you something. I-I can’t really say it, so I’ll just sing.” Emily then
began singing her version of “Only Us,” waiting until the very end to ask her question.

“Bennie, will you be my girlfriend?” Emily asked holding out the panda and the box of
chocolates.

Bennie scrunched up her nose in disgust. She snatched the chocolates and panda away
from the hopeful girl. “No. I’d never go out with someone like you. Look at yourself! You’re
boring, ugly, and a weeb. Your pathetic attempt at a song was the worst thing I’ve ever listened
to. On top of all that, you’re a freak of nature. You shouldn’t even exist.”

Bennie hadn’t just stomped on Emily’s heart, she’d snapped it in half. She’d broken it as
easily as she breaks wooden boards. Emily’s eyes filled with tears as she choked out an, “I
understand. Thank you.” She then turned and ran out of the building and drove home.

Emily went inside her house and picked up her phone. “Andy? Can you please come
over? With all the ice cream you can. Oh, and if you have any of my favorite shows, can you
bring them?” She hung up.

Emily sat on the couch in her living room, staring at the blank TV. Why? Why did I have
to fall for her? Out of everyone. Emily broke down and let herself cry until she heard a knock on
the door. “Open up! I’ve brought cookie dough and vanilla ice cream. I also have ‘Kiss Him, Not
Me’ and ‘Death Note!’ Your pick!” Emily walked to the door and opened it, inviting her blue-
haired friend inside.

Andy immediately noticed her red eyes and set down the bags and embraced her. “Just sit
down on the couch. I’ll go get your fuzzy blanket and your favorite bear, Rilakkuma!” Andy
said while guiding the heartbroken girl to the couch. He went upstairs and grabbed her favorite
plush bear and her fuzzy blanket with the smiling faces of Eren Yeager, Armin Arlet, and Mikasa
Ackerman. “You guys better make her feel better,” he said to the inanimate objects while
walking downstairs.

Andy came back down and wrapped Emily in the blanket and handed her the plush bear.
He gave her a tub of ice cream and a spoon. “There’s cookie dough too, if you want that. For
now, do you wanna watch ‘Death Note’ or ‘Kiss Him, Not Me?’” Andy asked.

Emily whispered something that sounded like “Death Note,” so Andy popped in the first
DVD. The theme song for the so-called horror show echoed through the house. At the sound of
the hyped-up theme song, Emily smiled through her tears.

Twenty-five episodes later, Emily was a sobbing mess. “L didn’t need to die!” She
sobbed. “But Rem was only trying to protect Misa, because she loved her so much! Why? Why

56

do my favorite characters die? No! Not Watari, too! But Rem only wanted Misa to be happy. She
loved her so much.” Emily bawled. Andy quickly paused the show to comfort his friend.

“Emily, it’s just a show. It’ll be okay.” Emily shoved another spoon of cookie dough into
her mouth to try to calm herself down. “Pweashe play it.” Emily said with her mouth full. Andy
rolled his eyes, but obliged. He wanted her to smile again. He missed his friend already.

The two missed school on Friday. Andy was still trying to help Emily feel better. They
decided to sleep the day away. When they woke up, they both went to get more ice cream. Even
though Emily was still hurting, she was extremely grateful for her best friend, for helping her.
She felt different after getting rejected. She felt free. She also felt stronger.

“Andy, I’m feeling better. Didn’t you mention something about a movie that you wanted
to see?”

Andy looked excited. “Yes! Will you really see Burn The Stage with me?!” Emily gave
her friend a weak smile.

“Of course. You watched thirty-seven episodes of a show you probably don’t care for.
This is the least that I could do.” Emily responded. With that, the two headed off to the movie
theater.

Several weeks later, Emily was back. She felt a lot better, too. She walked into school
with her head held high and looked confident. Her entire personality had changed for the better.
Her crush had faded completely, along with the pain she felt. She had resumed karate and pushed
herself until she was the best in her class. She threw herself back into her studies and decided
that she wouldn’t let rejection keep her from being a doctor. She jumped from a straight B
student to a straight A student.

Two weeks later, Andy approached her. “Hey there buddy. Remember when I watched
thirty-seven episodes of Death Note while letting you cry on my shoulder? Can we please do the
talent show together?” Emily rolled her eyes

“You didn’t need to guilt me. I would have said yes even if you didn’t add in the part
about me being a sobbing mess. What are we doing? Wait! Let me guess! Hmmmmm... Kpop?”
Andy let out a chuckle. “You know me so well, Em. We’re dancing to ‘Not Today!’” The duo
agreed to meet twice a week to practice on the condition that Andy would join karate with Emily.
The two worked hard and tried their best. They managed to memorize the whole dance by the
time the talent show rolled around. They didn’t get first place, but they had a great time. She felt
better than before, and it was all thanks to her heart being broken like a wooden board.

57

My Last Name

By: Sydney Smith

The old, tasteless cracker left on a snack dish of last names. Ancient. Cliché. Tired.
Smith. Because a thousand years ago there were too many people that had the first name Frank.
So, people needed another name to distinguish themselves. When their last names were decided
with their occupation that is when it all started. “One who works with metal.” Now there are
about 2.5 million Smiths in the U.S. alone because there once were too many Franks, or
something. Now I’m left with the milk of all last names.

There are so many Smiths; there’s a Smith College, Smith Tower, dozens of towns
named Smith. It’s so common I’ve just come accustomed to assuming people know my last
name. Smith. The commonality of it has made my last name a joke to many including me. All
because there were too many Franks.

The beginning of Smith is almost as bland as the name itself, along with all that has
happened between then and now. Everyone that knows my last name knows the summary of my
past. Irish, German, Welsh, pretty much every European country mixed together in a pot to make
milk. I don’t want to be like my stale, grey last name, blending into the crowd. I want to be like
any last name that comes up with a red line under it when you type. A last name that’s more than
just milk: white, plain, basic. One that’s more like a sour lemonade on a hot summer day. Or a
Coke paired with salty fries at the state fair. But for now, I’m limited to Smith. All because there
were too many Franks.

58

By: Jessica Silverman
59

Am I real?

By: Luke Frey

Darkness. Screaming. Death. Bright lights flashing through his head. He felt like he was
in a raging tempest, which hurled him every which way.

Jay woke up in a cold sweat. Again? These dreams had been becoming more and more
frequent lately. He would have to go see his therapist again, which was just a bother. He
stumbled out of bed and walked dizzily to the mirror. The 2050 new year’s sticker hovered dully
in the corner. He looked into the mirror, and all that stared back was a hungover man who had
stayed out too late last night. In the kitchen, Jay got out a bowl, Cheerio’s, and some milk.
Sitting down, he poured everything together and started to eat.

He was startled by the “ding” of his phone. Had he really been scared by a simple
notification? He really needed to get it together. He headed out the front door with a glass of
water and drove off to the office. Once he arrived, he buzzed for his therapist, Leanne Carter.

As the meeting progressed, he became more open about his thoughts. “I don’t know why,
but I get this feeling the world isn’t what it seems to be” Jay muttered.

His therapist Leanne replied, “Don’t worry, they are only dreams. They will go away
with the medication I will prescribe you. You’ll be fine!”

“I- I don’t know, it’s just-”
“Shhhhhh, It’s okay. People get these dreams all the time!” She interjected.
“Thanks,” he said. “This really helped. Have a nice day”
After his meeting, he got in the car and broke down. Had he really just explained
everything to her? He swore to himself that he would keep it a secret, but his meeting played out
otherwise. He told himself that it was just him going crazy, but he had a feeling that he was
right. What were they hiding?
He started to regret his decision, as he noticed at least three cars were tailgating him. Jay
started to panic. Why were these cars following him? It was just a theory that this world was
fake. It’s not like it was real… right? Anyways, there was a more important matter at hand; he
needed to find a way to get these cars off his tail! Jay took a hard right at an intersection hoping
it would throw the cars off. Unfortunately, this did not work as the cars continued to pursue him.
He took a U-turn, and this succeeded in throwing his pursuers off course. That would do the trick
for now.
Later that night at his apartment, Jay packed up his things in an attempt to leave his old
place behind. He would not be safe anymore as he clearly was wanted for something. But he did
not know what! He would travel to Russia, where the government was not as corrupt as America.
And they had vodka, but that wasn’t as important.
Several hours later, Jay finished packing and went to bed. He laid in silence for a while
trying to figure out what it all meant. Finally, he drifted off to sleep.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
Jay bolted out of bed to knocking on his front door. He almost fainted when he saw five
men in suits standing calmly at the door. Why in the world were they there? He was terrified! Jay
grabbed his stuff and opened up the window. He said goodbye and jumped.
Waking up from his dream, he was surprised at how realistic they had become. Then, he
gasped and awoke to a man standing over his bed.
“You’re coming with us,” the man proclaimed.
Jay ripped of the bedsheets and backed up. How did this man get into his apartment?

60

The man came at Jay and succeeded in getting him into a headlock. Jay fought with all of
his strength, but it was to no avail. Jay felt his consciousness draining. Floating, drifting,
carefree.

And then all went black.
Jay woke up strapped to a chair. His vision was dizzy, and his head spun. Suddenly, a
bright light shone from a hallway within. And then, all of the sudden, a man walked in wearing a
suit and tie. Jay tried to flee but he was stuck. He began to panic.
“Bring it in,” the agent said. He looked at Jay and spoke bluntly, “You have no purpose
in knowing the truth. We are going to have to…you.”
Jay was horrified at what the agent had just said. Was this it? He had friends, family!
This couldn’t happen! Surely this must be a joke…
All of the sudden, the images came. A world seemingly made of code and numbers. A
programmer behind the screen, directing everything. Knowing all. Seeing all.
He snapped back to reality. The agent said, “See? You know the truth now. And the truth
is something we cannot allow you to know. I’m sorry.”
The agent injected a liquid into Jay’s neck, and he felt himself becoming sleepy. His
senses dulled. Was this it? Was this the end? It did not matter to Jay, for he was free. Not a worry
in the world. Floating on the wind, Yet he was in a chair in a laboratory. He slumped in his chair,
drifting… floating… darkness. He could barely mutter one last goodbye and drifted off, now and
for the rest of time.
*
Year: 2051.
Name: Jay Scalar.
Last seen: 2050.
Status: Unknown.

61

Déjà vu

By: Johnny Hood

“Barry don’t leave!” “You’ll be nothing in this world!” “You really think you can make a
difference in this world?” “You’re just a drop of water in an ocean…” “We have to leave Barry,
there’s no other way!” “BARRY HELP!”

I suddenly awoke from my night terror catching my breath. I look around my disgusting
room full of bugs and unrecognizable stains on the floor to see if anything has changed, yet here
I am. I still lived in a crappy apartment by myself living my crappy life. What a way to live,
right? I wake up every day from Monday to Friday at 6:30 in the morning, get dressed, brush my
teeth, and leave the apartment at 7:00 to head to work. Saturday and Sunday, I have off like a
normal work week. I turn to my clock to see it reads 3:30 Sunday morning. I should be asleep,
but I am always abruptly awoken by my night terrors almost every night. If it’s not a night terror,
it’s just a normal nightmare. I’ve been asked before what the difference is between the two. A
night terror usually consists of a nightmare scary enough to physically affect the body while
asleep, causing the subject to wake-up sweating, breathing heavily, and in some cases screaming.
A nightmare is just a normal bad dream. Since I was up, I decided to manage my time well and
get things done.

I first decided to brew some coffee since I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep. As the
coffee brewed, I turned on the TV to look for something entertaining to watch, but what is there
to expect at almost 4:00 in the morning. Hundreds of channels and yet not one, NOT ONE
stinking channel has anything good on. It’s all either paid advertisements, off-the-air channels,
and of course, political news channels. How I despise the government of the United States,
especially for the last few decades.

I was born in Charlestown, South Carolina in the year 2099 to my mother, Elizabeth
Lancaster. I was given the name Barry for reasons I am unaware of. I never got the chance to
fully ask my mother for reasons. I’d rather not explain. I did not have a father growing up. I was
solely raised by my mother until I was about 12 years old. At that point I learned to live on my
own and raised myself. I taught myself how to do everyday, basic things, but most importantly
how to fight and earn money. Growing up I made money in a dishonorable way I still regret to
this day. I used to fight for money. Now you may be thinking to yourself, “That’s not too bad,
you fight an opponent and whoever wins gets the money,” right? The issue with my fights was
none of my opponents could defend themselves. I would meet at the fight destination to find
either a homeless man or a weak wealthy man waiting for me in the ring looking scared and
confused. When I first started these fights, I refused to fight them knowing they were innocent
people, but the fight would end with me being beat by the people who set up the fights who I still
only remember as a picture in my head. I wasn’t allowed to know who they were. After a couple
of beatings, I learned it was either to fight and get the money or be beat myself and earn none.
Even as I ruthlessly beat those innocent people, I still regretted every moment of it. I still try to
forget about it every day. Why did I do this? I was a broke 12-year-old who needed money and
lived in a society where you weren’t allowed to get a job until you were at least 14. I also
decided I was not going into a foster home. When I lost my mother, I learned I couldn’t trust
anyone but myself. I wanted to live in solitude.

When the coffee finally finished, the clock read 4:07. I passed my calendar to see what
day it was and to my surprise it was already April 23, 2124. My birthday was only a week away
and I couldn’t dread it more. I dragged my feet across the floor towards the window. I looked out

62

the window and pondered, “Why me?” “How did I end up like this?” “What did I do to deserve
this?” The questions were limitless. I felt anger as I clenched my fist, sadness as a tear ran down
my face, all while drinking my coffee trying to act like everything was okay. The sounds of
noisy New York City were loud enough to silent all the little creaks and noises my apartment
made. I have to say the street noises truly helped me stay calm with all the anger and sadness
inside of me.

My thoughts were interrupted when my cell phone began to go off. My phone read off
the words, “BREAKING NEWS” I opened the article to read that the last known vigilante will
soon be arrested as information begins to close the case. You see, in my society, humans
continued to evolve to the point of manifesting super powers as some call it. No, they weren’t the
powers you see in movies and stories, they were just people more advanced in society. For
example, someone could run faster than an average person and beat the record by a couple miles
per hour, but nothing extravagant like the flash. Many of the people with these “powers” would
act heroic to save people; A smart idea if you didn’t live in a country that gave you a set life and
watched your every move. It felt almost like a prison.

I spent the next couple of hours going on the web, playing video games, and just thinking
about anything and everything. My clock finally read 8:30 and society was finally awake. Since
it was the last day before the workweek started again, I decided to stroll New York just to
explore. I left my apartment and began walking towards the subway to take the train to Times
Square. How I’ve always loved Times Square, just watching the tourist get lost, the vendors rip
off the tourists with cheap products, the noise of taxis honking their horn played like an orchestra
to my ears. It all felt perfect in a terrible society. As I was walking to the subway, I got the eerie
feeling I was being watched. Paranoia began to fill my brain as I constantly looked over my
shoulder to make sure no one was following me. Once I got to the stairs, I began to run to the
train to create as much distance as possible in case anyone was following me. To my luck the
train was there, and I just beat the doors closing. I sat in my seat and let out a sigh of relief
knowing I got away for now. Why was I running you might ask? Like I told you I can’t trust
anybody, hell, I mean I don’t fully know if I can trust you, but I feel like this is the only way I
can keep up with my life.

The train finally reached Times Square and I was hungry, so I decided to stop for lunch. I
found a cheap pizza joint and got a slice of cheese pizza and began to start heading towards
Times Square. I spent most of the day sitting on a bench watching tourists pass and just watch as
the streets came alive. Hours passed in what felt like minutes. It felt almost unreal, was it? No, of
course not, I just got caught up in watching tourists I lost track of time. I checked my phone to
read the time was 15:41. I wondered whether I should start to head home or do something else. I
decided to visit the dry bar once known as Planet Hollywood. Decades ago it was lively, full of
people and actors looking for somewhere nice to eat. Now it was some random bar with no
name. I knew some people there, not as friends, but just acquaintances. Many of the regulars
there liked me since I was so contained and quiet and people wanted to crack me open like a 500
year old treasure chest. Little do they know that this treasure chest can’t be opened.

I decided it was time to head home when my phone said the time was 16:26 when a
sudden voice spooked me. “Don’t leave Barry!” said one of the women still sitting at the bar.
The voice sounded familiar I just couldn’t put my finger on where I’ve heard it before. I brushed
it off and said, “Thanks, but no thanks. I should really be getting home.” “You know you’ll be
nothing in this world, Barry. Especially if you stay contained in your little, private life” said the
bartender. Once again, I was startled by how familiar the voice sounded; however, the comment

63

annoyed me. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I said in an irritated tone. The bartender began to
raise his voice as if he was irritated as well, “What I mean is all you do is sit here, have a drink,
and think to yourself until someone forces a conversation with you that you obviously don’t want
to be a part of. Instead of moping around, engage with people here. You want to do something
about this terrible life we live in, yet all you do is sit and mope, sit and mope, and sit and mope
some more. You’re just a drop of water in an ocean… unless you do something about it. So
instead of—” I quickly interjected after hearing yet another phrase that sounded way too
familiar. “You haven’t experienced what I have so don’t go snooping into my business, got it?” I
said, “also you just lost a customer.” I slammed the door behind me and began to head towards
the subway. As I walked to the subway, I couldn’t understand why those voices sounded so
familiar. I’ve experienced déjà vu before, but never to this extent. My mind was boggled, and I
tried to look for clues. I pondered on all the possibilities of how I recognized the voices, but
nothing clearly stood out in my mind enough. I did this all the way home until I was abruptly
stopped by to men in dark suits at the door of my apartment.

“Are you Mr. Barry Lancaster?” one said very stern. I nodded. “We’d like to ask you a
few questions referring to your recent dreams you’ve been having” said the other man holding a
clipboard with papers. You see, our dreams get monitored and can be visited if whoever is
watching is troubled by them. This is not necessarily bad, but majority of the time it is. I began to
sweat as I trembled the word “sure” out of my mouth. “Is there something wrong?” I said more
nervous than I’ve ever been before. One of the men began to open his mouth, but before
anything could come out, his cell phone rang and said he’d be a minute. The man walked away
to take his call. I observed the other man to see how clean shaven he was and that he had a scar
on his left cheek. I was too nervous to ask where he got it although I was profoundly curious.
The man on the phone suddenly shouted out, “Johnson! Get over here!” “Don’t move!” said the
supposed ‘Johnson.’ I was scared and tried not to panic for I feared what might happen.

Out of the blue I hear a woman call my name. I frantically look all around for her until
she said my name again, I spotted her peeking her head around the corner of the building into the
alleyway. “Barry, come on I’ll keep you safe.” She said. I froze not knowing what to do. I knew
the men in suits only meant trouble, but how could I trust this random woman? The men turned
around and began walking towards me again. My fear rose as they came closer. Suddenly I
heard, “We have to leave Barry, there’s no other way!” Without hesitation my body began to
sprint towards the woman as if my body took control over itself. “Hey! Get back here!” one of
the men shouted. I reached the woman as we began to run with one another. “Just follow me, I
won’t let them hurt you.” Said the woman. “Hurt me?! What do you mean hurt me?!” I said in
panic. “No time for questions, wait until we get to safety” the woman said as her breath began to
breathe heavily. I only became more panicked, “What did the men want? What did I do? Why do
I deserve this? Who was this woman? How did she know me?” All these questions flooded my
head until we were cornered by more men in suits. “Nobody move!” said another man in a suit.
The woman grabbed my wrist and began running towards another alley when she was tackled. I
froze again not knowing what to do when suddenly I was tackled myself. I struggled but couldn’t
budge. “BARRY HELP!” said the woman. Yet again the voice sounded familiar and I was struck
with déjà vu. I looked up to see the woman’s screams and struggles came to a halt as she was
knocked out only to suddenly see black.

I awoke, laying in my bed catching my breath. I turn to my clock to see it reads
3:30 Sunday morning. I should be asleep, but I am always abruptly awoken by my

64

night terrors almost every night. I first decided to brew some coffee since I knew I
wasn’t going back to sleep. As the coffee brewed, I turned on the TV to look for
something entertaining to watch, but what is there to expect at almost 4:00 in the
morning. Hundreds of channels and yet not one, NOT ONE stinking channel has
anything good on. It’s all either paid advertisements, off-the-air channels, and of

course, political news channels. My thoughts were interrupted when my cell
phone began to go off. My phone read off the words, “BREAKING NEWS” I
opened the article to read that the last known vigilante has been arrested as new
information helped close the case. I spent the next couple of hours going on the
web, playing video games, and just thinking about anything and everything. My
clock finally read 8:30 and society was finally awake. I decided to stay home.

65

By: Jack DeMola
66

The Story of Francis Fynnwilliams

By: Francis Fynnwilliams

In English, my name means free. In Latin it means Frenchman. It means unrestricted and
laid-back. It is like a freshly grown tulip. It is bright and colorful. It is the humor found on stand-
up comedy routines. It is like a spa day, relaxing and without a care in the world.

To be completely honest, my name isn’t original. It belongs to my father, he had it before
I did. But he wasn’t even the first. My great-great grandfather was actually the first in my family
to have the name Francis. He was named after Francis of Assisi, an animal-loving saint. It is said
in my culture that if you want your firstborn son to be successful, you name him after a
successful man in your family. My father wanted me to have his success, so he gave me his
name.

My name is an absolute reflection of who I am. I am free to do what I want and to be who
I am. There is nothing holding me back, no one telling what I should be like, it is all of my
decision entirely. I am simply a bird, flying high and free—flying through the blue sky as the
crisp air hits my face and the sun warms my back—flying high and free. Free to go anywhere
and do anything.

There is nothing in this world that could get me to change my name, nothing at all. My
name is a blessing. It is the glue that holds my personality together. Without my name I am just
another suit of flesh that walks the earth. My name gives me uniqueness. It gives me the
independence to act as I choose to. I would never give up the liberty that comes with my name.

67

By: Drake Miller
68

The Disfigured

By: Ben Kulbak and Christian Jerez-Roemer

The world as we know, it is dead. It's been two years after the apocalypse, and two weeks
after those beasts showed up. They numbered in the thousands and indiscriminately feasted on
everything that they saw. These monsters were extremely formidable and every single other
living thing on the earth had feared these mutated beasts. The “disfigured” as we call them had
recently appeared, most likely due to the abnormal amounts of radiation. The more radiation the
more they outnumbered us. They looked gruesome and had a putrid smell. They had long lanky
arms had short black hair and the skull of a dead deer. Eventually, there were only pockets of
humans left who were slowly being wiped out.

Today is Thursday March 28th, 2030. Tim and I have been together since the beginning,
after the nations of the world decided that nuclear annihilation was the best alternative to war.
We are currently holed up in a military outpost thirty miles outside of Atlanta waiting for
daybreak. We can hear the disfigured outside looking for scraps. Since the beasts feed on living
things, there isn't much left for them these days. We, however, have plenty of food and water at
the base. The troops seemingly left in a hurry. We mask the scent of our bodies with the
oppressive smell of the beast that we killed yesterday and put outside the entrance. When night
falls the beasts signal their feeding time by letting out a guttural cry. This cry can be heard from
all around us and is a very useful alarm that tells us when to get inside. We have been trying to
get the disabled military helicopter at the base working for months as Tim is a pilot and we heard
that there is one remaining outpost up north in the wilderness of Canada. We have been needing
to go further out every time to find the correct parts and it is getting more difficult to get back
before nightfall. Yesterday was a very close call as Tim sprained his ankle trying to get away
from a feral dog. I had to carry him two miles back to the base and was only left with an hour of
light. I was exhausted as we got on the premises of the base and started to hear the disfigured
cries. I put all my effort into a final sprint to the entrance of the base as the beasts started to
sprint towards us, jumping over themselves to get one more meal. We were very lucky that day. I
had managed to shut the door just in time as the beasts slammed into it. We had also managed to
obtain the final piece needed for the engine of the helicopter. Tomorrow we will leave this
godforsaken place.

I added the final piece as Tim was resting inside the base. We would head out early and
land before nightfall. I am worried how coherent Tim is after taking painkillers, but our only
option is to leave after they almost broke through the door. The beasts are seemingly getting
more formidable as they evolve to suit the environment. They also have erratic movements and
can dodge gunfire from us. We are hoping they cannot survive as well in the cold and it will slow
them down. I will be leaving this journal here. Good luck to anyone who finds it.

69

Acknowledgements
We would like to thank Gerstell Academy’s President Emeritus, Dr. Smith, President John Polasko, and

the administration for supporting our Creative Writing class and for giving the students an opportunity
to publish our works in the “Roaring Run Review.” Also, a special thank you goes out to the artists,
writers, and editors who contributed their time, talents, and treasures in order to publish Gerstell
Academy’s 2019 Literary Magazine.