MS Literary Magazine, section 5

A long time ago, in a faraway place,
lived the epitome of beauty in the human race.
Her smile sparkled and shined like a star in the sky.
Her presence filled the air with a warm and loving aroma like hot apple pie.
In her castle, the breeze of air flowed gently.
The flowers in her garden sat quite contentedly.
The music sang sweet, melodious tunes.
The diligent servants shined the brightly colored balloons.
All was well except for one small thing:
This Queen was without a King.
As years passed, her strength grew weak,
Her smile did not shine, she could not speak.
She could not find her Prince Charming to wed.
So she wept for days and days in her cold empty bed.
Her heart blackened each day that passed.
She found a decrepit old gypsy, with no spells to cast.
The gypsy begged for room and board.
But the Queen, with no mercy, gave her nothing but a rotten gourd.
You selfish fool, snarled the gypsy, you will pay.
Not, replied the arrogant Queen, in my day.
The Queen wandered through her lonely garden. In the air gloomed a chill.
She found what she needed—the man who possessed a silver daffodil.
Of course! Only he could bring her joy and happiness.
So the search began, so starting a huge mess.
But unbeknownst to the Queen, the gypsy, now fully well,
was watching from afar and casting spells.
Men from all over the world came with silver flowers.
But the Queen would not hear of it. She wanted the silver powers.
Nay, she refused. The daffodil is what I need.
Stubborn! Spoiled! They accused,
But the Queen took no notice.
Within five years the search ended, and the Queen was now a lost
soul drowning in a deserted sea of tears.
She lay there no longer fearing her fears.
Her beautiful ray of sunshine burned a hole in her heart.
But alas! She could hear the trot of tiny hooves. It was her
King with the daffodil, she had finished the puzzle, this was the missing part.
Or so she thought.
Just as her heart healed and the sunshine became a rainbow,
a dark lightening bolt killed her with a crash.
The gypsy was happy and died, too, holding the daffodil,
then breaking it, her justified last smash.

Alexis D.
eighth grade

The Ridiculous Spider

        It left a gooey trail as it slithered stealthily toward me at a sluggish pace. I remained stiffly and fearfully still as it slid to a stop near my foot.
    "It's within squishing distance," I radioed down to my toes, alerting them of the chance to be rid of the intruder.
    It started to slide some more, but the wind stopped blowing and it slowly came to a halt. Suddenly all became silent. I looked down at the supposedly slippery arms, all eight sprawled upon the smooth cement. Tiny hairs stuck out from the body and black flesh protruded out from the small confines on the bony body.
    Out of stupendous boredom, I spontaneously stooped over. Once and for all, I would bear the filth and slime and go and destroy it. I knew I would achieve momentous satisfaction if I squeezed it in my hand, and so my plan was to let its guts ooze out through my fingers.
    As I approached it, I began to second-guess myself, but as the gap between us became smaller and smaller, and I could sense victory in hand, I shoved my skepticism aside and reached for it.

Dylan T.
seventh grade

In the early hours
of the morn,
its leaves are weighed
down
with dew.
Its petals are just
beginning to open.
A few minutes later
the petals are
bursting out
with color,
taking the gaze of
passers by.

Lucy K.
sixth grade

The Train Operator

    Jim Parker walked down the night street. He was a young man of twenty-three. He was tall and had bright red hair.
    His family was somewhat rich and Jim had planned on not having to work because of that. Somehow, when his parents died a year ago, some paperwork was discovered by the maids who thought they deserved a part of the inheritance. The papers said that the will was not written for the son, but for an old man who helped them as children.
    Jim was not the most intelligent person in the world and so it was not very easy for him to get a job. For the past year Jim had been working at many places for low pay.
    Jim was walking to meet a friend of his who was trying to help him out. This friend was named Jack. Jack had gone to college and had gotten a degree in law. He knew he couldn't get Jim a really great high paying dream job, but he did have a couple of okay job offers. This particular night he had a train operator job that Jim could try. However, Jim did not want to work. He took it as an insult.
    Jim arrived at the building, 482 Bombay Plaza where the chief of operators was interviewing. The chief was a big man with a beard and a gruff voice.
    "You Parker?" he asked.
    "Yes, Jim replied.
    "Well get in here!" the chief said in his deep, gruff voice.
    Jim walked into the small room where the chief was signaling. There was a desk with a xerox of a control panel taped on.
    "This is an exact replica of the control panel you will be using," the chief said.
    "Are you saying that I got the job?" Jim asked.
    "Well, you're the only one here so I guess so," the chief replied.
    The chief went about explaining how the switched worked and how it was important for his to know them.
    Jim partially listened to the chief.
    The day finally came that Jim was ready to stop operating the real machine. It was deep down in a tunnel where his station was. There were other people in the tunnel separated by thin walls. It was like an underground office building. The next couple of days were boring. Jim flipped switches and found he was good at it. As with all work Jim had ever had, he thought it was boring and useless.
    He went home that day and turned on the news. "News flash! Today an operator held up trains for over an hour and a half," the newscaster said. There was a picture of Jim flashing on the screen.
    Jim threw his shoe at the television to shut it off.
    His brain raced and his face slowly started to turn red. He moved slowly and carefully; he was in a state of anger. He went to his room and put on his train uniform. It was all blue, with a light blue collar.
    Jim went outside and got into his car, a black Mercedes Benz, the only fancy possession that he still owned. Even this was getting junky. He drove as fast as his car could go down to the railroad station. He got out of his car and went to the elevator that went down to his office. He walked through the narrow halls to his station. Jim unlocked his station door and walked into his office. He had a psychotic look on his face and was turning bright red.
    Jim sat at his desk surrounded by radar and machinery. The technology was so advanced that Jim could see a train coming two-hundred miles away. His office was dark. Jim had only a small desk lamp. The switches and radar glowed in the dim light.
    Jim remembered the chief saying, "If you mess up once, a train can crash."
    There was a train only ten minutes away. Jim's eyes now glowed along with the switches. He locked his door. He started pressing random switches. His mind was overloading, and his face was now completely red with anger.
    Jim started to shout things out; he couldn't contain his anger within himself. He kept flipping random switches until the computer started to spark. His office was now filled with smoke.
    The train derailed and crashed. In a way, Jim derailed also.

Jon C.
fifth grade

At the end of the road,
A house lies in the middle of a field.
There is a candle in each window,
Letting off beams of orange light.
Inside the lights are all on.
Images of people laughing, dancing,
A few holding wine glasses,
Others holding plated appetizers.
A flake falls,
And then another.
The trees around the house create windy black shadows
Against the navy blue sky which holds only a few stars tonight.
Smoke flows out of the chimney,
And a fire is visible inside,
The dark shape of a vase of roses on a sideboard,
Frozen ground producing browned grass,
A piano player swaying to the brisk, cold wind,
As the wind revolves to the beat:
What is inside, converted to bare the roughness,
What is outside, trained to restrain to a simple melody.

Julia F.
seventh grade

Castra's Curse

A dark cloud goes over Bermuda. Bermuda's farmers and merchants run to their homes. Castra is the god of this tribe. Dark clouds mean Castra will come out. Everybody must be inside when he comes. For, if somebody sees him, they will never be able to talk again.
Gregory, a young boy, was cursed, for he had seen Castra. He was from a small island right off the coast of Bermuda. It had been dark rainy day like this one when he was cursed. Jacob, his father, had sent him out to go fishing, and on his way home it started raining. Kind folks asked him to come inside but he refused. Let me tell you what happened: Castra appeared. Milkiness went through Gregory's throat, and he could not talk. Never again could he open his mouth to speak. Once a year Castra took him to his cave to talk. Pine cones were everywhere in Castra's cave. Queen Riladine (Castra's wife) collected them to make the liquid that made it impossible for people to talk. Riladine was not a bad person. Sometimes she was sweet. 'Twas true that she was sometimes as wicked as Castra. Ussandra was Castra's daughter, and she took a liking to Gregory, begging her father to let them get married. Vilern, Castra's priest, married them When they were married it was a very happy occasion because Gregory got his voice back. Xylophones rang everywhere, announcing their marriage. You must always remember this story. Zarost (Castra's brother) will punish you if you forget.

Sophie P.
Fifth Grade

He urgles and gurgles
To make himself known.

He snurgles and murgles
Just to be fed.

He might curgle or smurgle
To be put to bed,

But then, he's a baby.

Whitney B.
fourth grade

First Kiss

    My name is David, and I live in Oklahoma. I go to a school in the small town where I live. I am seven years old and I just started second grade. The second I walked into my room I saw the cutest little girl I had ever seen in my life. She had the cutest short haircut with little short black curls. Her cheeks were as rosy as cherries, and her face was the shade of a perfect peach. Her name was Joan. She was sitting down where her assigned seat would be for the rest of the year. So, instead of sitting where all of the boys were sitting, I sat right behind her and stared at the back of her neck for the rest of the year and never said one word to her.
    In third grade I did the same. I sat behind her and stared at her cute curls.
    In fourth grade the best friend I've ever had, Paul, came to school. I just thought he was the greatest guy I had ever known. He was so cool. Within the first week of school he was going out with a girl named Cindy. It was surprising to everybody because Cindy was just about the shyest girl in the school and he was very outgoing. Anyway, I made friends with Paul very quickly. That year I didn't talk to Joan until Valentine's Day. On Valentine's Day I also liked a girl named Anne. So, I gave her and Joan Valentine's Day cards. Being single-minded I made them both the same one. They had taken me around an hour each:

I LOVE YOU ESPECIALLY

with lots of hearts and arrows to make them pretty.
    When recess finally came at the end of the day, the girls went to their side of the park and we went to our side of the park. We waited for the girls' reactions. As we waited we saw Joan and Anne look at their Valentines and they were so mad at me that they didn't talk to me for the rest of the year.
    In the fifth grade I didn't like Anne anymore but I still liked Joan. One day Paul came up to us (us meaning the boys) and said, "Well guys...I kissed her."
    "No you didn't," we all said.
    "Yes I did," he said.
    "Long or short?" we asked. Of course he lied and said long.
    "We don't believe you."
    "It's true, I'll prove it," he said. "Come to the big tree in the forest right after school, on Friday. Hide your bikes and climb up the tree," he said. So, on Friday we did what he said. When we climbed the tree we made sure that we were hidden and that nobody could see us and we waited quietly for about fifteen minutes. Then we saw them come riding on their bikes. As they got off their bikes and parked them against the tree, Paul said, "Long or short?" And she of course said, "Short," in a small squeaky voice.
    And so they started to kiss, and Nick started to crack up and he fell out of the tree. Then we all started to crack up and everyone but me fell out. I was hanging from one arm on a big branch, and that was it for Paul and Cindy for the rest of the fifth grade.
    In the sixth grade Paul and Cindy got back together, and I got up the courage to talk to Joan a few times.
    Then one day I said to Paul at recess, "Paul, I want to ask her out."
    "Really?"
    "Yes. But how?" I asked.
    "Well, first you need to write her a note."
    "What do I say?"
    "Well, the obvious. Do you like me?"
    So I wrote her the note. It said:

Dear Joan,
Do you like me?
Love, David

    I gave the note to Paul, he gave it to Cindy who gave the note to Joan. It took her three days to respond. During that time I was beside myself. I kept thinking, 'She hates me, I knew it, she's never going to speak to me again, I can't believe I did this.' Then on the third day of suspense Paul came up to me with a grin.
    "What?" I said.
    He had a note in his hand. " Read it," he said.
    I read the note. It said:

Dear David,
Yes.
Love, Joan

    "How did you get this?" I asked.
    "Joan gave it to Cindy, Cindy gave it to me, and I gave it to you," he said. I was thrilled to hear her response. "But now what do I do?" I asked.
    "You go steady until you want to kiss her," he said.
    So we went steady for about half the year. But of course we never talked. Then one day, after recess I said, "Well guys, I think I want to kiss her. But what do I do?" I asked.
    "Well first," said Paul, "you have to write her a note. A note that says do you want to kiss me?" So I did what Paul said. I wrote her a note that said:

Dear Joan,
Do you want to kiss me?
Love, David

So I gave the note to Paul, who gave the note to Cindy, who gave the note to Joan. Well, this note took much longer to return. It took ten days and I was so sure it was over. Then finally the note came back. I read it and it said:

Dear David,
Yes.
Love, Joan

    I was so happy. Then Paul said, "Now you need to write her a note. And it's going to say, 'Dear Joan, where should it be?' or something like that, and she'll respond, 'Someplace,' and then you'll write her another note saying 'When?' and so on."
    So again I wrote her a note and I gave it to Paul, who gave it to Cindy, who gave it to Joan. And she responded, and I wrote her another note and she responded once again and again until all of the plans and ideas were passed. Finally the day came and I was so scared. I was so close to wetting my pants. During the last class, math, I was thinking about what was about to happen. I was so nervous. I would never be able to finish the math homework that night; I wasn't paying any attention at all to the math teacher. Finally after what seemed like a ten hour math class, the bell rang. I was so scared my heart started to beat faster than it ever had in its life.
    First Joan left with Cindy. I could tell she was very nervous but she could not have been more nervous than I. I gathered my stuff about a minute after she left. The teacher said, "You looked a little tired or disturbed today."
    "What? Oh yeah," I said.
    I went the opposite way that Joan did, pretended I forgot something, very clever, then went to the stairs where she had gone. My heart was thumping very hard as I opened the door. When I came in it was very, very dark.
    "Joan?" I said.
    "Yes," she said in a small squeaky voice.
    "I can't see, so please talk," I said.
    "What do I say?" she said in her squeaky voice.
    "Well, anything," I said.
    "Okay, um, how are you?"
    "It's okay, you can stop talking now, I mean unless you want to."
    "It's okay, I'll stop talking."
    "Long or short?"
    The words came suddenly out of my mouth. I was hoping so much that she would say long, but of course she said, "Short."
    So I started to lean towards her, but on the way I was so nervous I fainted for two seconds, and since it was so dark I kissed her on the nose. There was a moment of silence…Then we both started to laugh hysterically. We ended up going steady for a long time. We got to the point where we could talk to each other. We went steady until eighth grade. I did not hear from her for a long, long time. I had moved....

WHEN I WAS THIRTY

    A long, long time after, when I was thirty, I looked up Joan while I was driving through the old town. She wasn't married and she lived no more than two blocks from where I had stopped. I drove up to her house, she was home. I couldn't believe it.
    "David?" she knew instantly who I was. "Come in, come in, it's been so long since I last saw you. I tried to look you up but you're not listed."
    "I know, I'm sorry," I said.
    "There is something I have been dying to show you," she said.
    "What is it?"
    "You'll see," she said with a grin. She led me upstairs into her room. She led me to a chest. She took a key and opened it up. Inside were all the letters I had written her. I could not believe it. Every single letter I ever wrote her was there. I was very flattered. I asked her if she would like to go see a movie that night. She said yes. So that night I waited for her at her house, and of course she made me wait ten minutes longer than we had planned. At ten after eight we left for the movie. It was a horrible movie, we both agreed. Afterwards I took her home and walked her to the door.
    Before she went in I said, "Would you like to...reenact that first kiss?"
    "Sure," she said.
    "Long…or short?" I said.
    And she said, "Looong."

Sarah B.
seventh grade

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