table Of

table of contents
editor’s note
Welcome to the third edition of Aperture.
Here there is melancholy and loss as well as humor and grace.
Vibrant color amidst bleakness, light amidst shadow. Confusion and
contentment. Despair and hope. Through writing, art, and photography, we explore the beauty of ourselves and of the world God has
given us in both times of celebration and times of sadness.
And when all our voices come together, we create the collective spirit
of our community. One that laughs, cries, contemplates,
appreciates, and learns how to find the unique beauty in
everything that we see and do. That, in essence, is the heart of our
creativity.
Enjoy.
The Editors
Editor in Chief
Graphic Design
Staff Editors
Promotions
Advisors
Aurora Zhang
Sharon Park
Esther Bartlett
Cherie Lin
Meghan Leong
Hanna Jang
Emily Starke
Anna Stukenborg
Stephanie Yoon
Jean Chen
Kriss Hayward
Brenda Rosé
Winter
Lucky
Just a Memory
Land of Fiery Shadows
Thanksgiving Days
Rubik’s Cube
Mother Oak
Saved Through Faith
Love Someone
Friday the 13th
It’s a Small World After All
The Dark Shadows
Bass Guitar
Diary of a Duck
The Pianist
Piano Man
Anticipation
Autumn Day
First Snow
Untitled
Duck
Bird
Mushing in Juneau
Houses
Boundless
Splash!
Lake Tulloch
Untitled
Sky
Anything is Fixable
Time
Rose
writing
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9
10
13
14
15
16
19
20
22
24
25
26
30
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art
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18
19
23
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photography
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9
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Zoe Chen, 9th Grade
Virginia Xie, 9th Grade
Peter Zhao, Alumni 2013
Esther Kuiper, 9th Grade
Jonathan Shieh, Teacher
Caitlin Johnson, 11th Grade
Katherine Wong-Lam, 9th Grade
Tammie Ma, 8th Grade
Emily Starke, 7th Grade
Rishabh Vashishtha, 9th Grade
Megan D’Souza, 10th Grade
Samuel Ogihara, 7th Grade
Ken Knaus, 8th Grade
Beth Scalise, 10th Grade
Jenny Nguyen, 10th Grade
Melissa Kim, 12th Grade
Rachel McIntyre, Alumni 2013
Havilah Brown, 10th Grade
Abby Campbell, 9th Grade
Cherie Lin, 11th Grade
Emilia Sunderland, 10th Grade
Andrew Huang, 6th Grade
Shania Wang, 7th Grade
Vi Bui, 12th Grade
Elsie Soderberg, Alumni 2013
Esther Kuiper, 10th Grade
Milan Loiacono, 11th Grade
Victoria Lieb, 9th Grade
Sharon Park, 11th Grade
Jean Chen, 10th Grade
Claire Nolasco, 8th Grade
Megan Jow, 8th Grade
Megan Jow, 8th Grade
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Winter
Zoe Chen
Cold, desolate, quiet
Beautiful in a silent way
A snow covered forest
Waits patiently for spring to bloom
No birds disturb the icy air
No creatures move under its cover
Its trees, bare of leaves
Rustle in an icy breeze
The snow-covered boughs
Hang heavy with their burden
They sparkle in the sunlight
Like diamonds on display
As the sun goes down
Another day passes
The trees stay silent
In the cold, icy atmosphere
Mushing in Alaska
Vi Bui
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Anticipation
Havilah Brown
Lucky
Virginia Xie
Grace shuddered and wrapped her fading gray jacket tightly around her small, petite body. Her hollow black
eyes stared unblinkingly at the clock mounted on the corner
of the veterinary clinic. 10:00; 10:45; 11:00; 11:55. Two
hours had come and gone, but Grace remained motionless,
holding out her deadpan stare at the clock. Beside her, a tall,
lean teenager with medium-length black hair tapped his foot
impatiently. He had the same tall nose, small eyes, and sharp
cheekbones as Grace.
“Gracie, how long do you plan on sitting here?” he
asked, just barely managing to keep his annoyance in check.
“As long as it takes,” Grace replied evenly, keeping
her eyes fixed on the clock.
“It’s almost midnight. We should go home. Sitting
here all night won’t fix anything.” The boy stood up and
made for the door.
“You go on, Matt,” Grace said in a trembling voice.
“I’m going to stay here.” Grace drew her legs towards her
chest and rested her chin on her knees.
Matt hovered by the door, torn between staying in
the veterinary clinic to comfort his sister and going home to
study for his finals. After a slight hesitation, he made his way
back to his sister’s side, grumbling and complaining all the
way. With nothing to do but wait, Matt pulled out his iPod
and started browsing through YouTube.
Grace knew that she was being selfish, and Matt
had more important things to do like studying for his AP
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tests, but he decided to stay with her instead. The corners of
her mouth twitched up in a hopeful attempt at a smile, but
then she remembered everything that had happened earlier
that day. The sensation wasn’t much unlike being doused
with a bucket of ice water in a blizzard. Grace hugged knees
tighter and choked back sobs at memory of the recent
events. It was as if joy itself had fled from the world. I’ll
never be happy ever again.
Matt was staring at his iPod so intensely that he
didn’t even notice that the screen had gone black. Come on,
let’s face it, Gracie’s a brat. She’s selfish; she’s a crybaby; she’s
annoying, but even so, she’s my sister. Matt very rarely felt
brotherly compassion towards Grace, but he couldn’t help
but feel terrible about the events that took place earlier that
day. He glanced cautiously at the otherwise empty waiting
room. Since they were alone, he might as well speak up.
“Hey, uh Gracie,” Matt spoke up tentatively.
“Yeah?” Grace was still staring intently at the clock.
It was a half past midnight now.
“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened today.
It’s all my fault,” Matt blurted out.
This finally got Grace’s attention. She turned her
head around slowly to face Matt and frowned as if just seeing
him clearly for the first time. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You
were just unlucky.”
Matt sighed in relief. So far, the conversation
had gone better than he thought it would go. “I knew I
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shouldn’t have let Lucky off the leash,” he confessed. “It’s all
my fault.”
“Lucky was very well-trained. She didn’t need a
leash. I’ve taken her out so many times off leash before,” Grace
insisted, fidgeting nervously with her fingernails.
“Yeah, but she was your dog, and today was supposed
to be special,” Matt groaned, holding his face in his hands. “I
was so stupid!”
“No, it’s fine actually,” Grace said, grasping Matt’s
arm for reassurance. “She was old.”
“Only twenty-eight in human years!” Matt exclaimed.
“Wow, you can do math,” Grace observed. “When
did you learn that four times seven is twenty-eight?”
“Hey!”
“Just joking,” Grace smiled.
By now, Matt was feeling extremely proud of himself. He felt much better now that he had talked about the
emotions that had been welling up inside of him. Even so,
the shame that rested like a block of lead in his stomach still
remained. “But still, this…,” Matt dug around in his pocket
for something, “was not worth Lucky getting hurt for,” he
finished bitterly, holding out a plain yellow tennis ball in the
palm of his hand.
The fleeting smile on Grace’s face vanished instantly. “That was her favorite toy,” she murmured softly, rocking
back and forth in her chair. “Seeing it on the other side of the
road must’ve drove her nuts,” she said, in a faltering voice, “It
meant everything to her.” She buried her head between her
arms, crying out her misery.
“I’m so sorry, Gracie,” Matt apologized. “It’s all my
fault.” He put an arm around Grace’s shoulder and pulled her
closer to him, and she leaned into his chest at once.
“Shut hic-up,” Grace wailed. “I’ve told you over and
hic-over again that it’s not your hic-fault! It wasn’t hic-even the
driver’s fault!”
“You should get some rest. Just catch some sleep
while you can,” Matt advised, rocking Grace awkwardly back
and forth like Mom used to when they were kids. “You need
to rest,” he repeated more forcefully as Grace protested.
“But—“
“It’s not a suggestion; it’s a command from your
older brother who’s five years your senior.” Matt scowled at her
from under his eyebrows.
“I-I…b-but I,” Grace stammered. The truth was that
Grace was so tired that she was on the verge of collapse, but
she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep when the veterinarian’s aid bringing news of Lucky’s condition could return any
moment. For ten long seconds, she struggled trying to decide
whether or not she should stay up and wait for her, but Grace’s
overwhelming fatigue won the internal battle.
“You’ll wake me up if she comes, right?” she asked
drowsily. Her eyelids had begun to droop the moment that the
word “sleep” was mentioned.
“Sure thing.”
Grace sighed in satisfaction and snuggled against
Matt’s chest. She reached out her hand to grasp the tennis ball
that Matt was still holding. She clenched the toy tightly in her
fist, and her last thoughts before drifting off to sleep was of all
the sports available in the world, why swimming?! Matt’s chest
is so hard that it hardly makes an ideal pillow!
Matt listened carefully for the slow, deep breathing
that would signify that his sister was asleep, but it came much
too soon. Within five minutes, she was snoring away in his
arms. Matt continued to rock her apprehensively. Man she
must be exhausted! I should’ve made her sleep sooner. Matt sat
in the veterinary clinic, holding Grace for over an hour before
the veterinarian’s aid finally decided to show her face.
“Well?” Matt asked, a little more aggressively than he
intended.
The veterinarian’s aide shrugged as if to convey that
the three hour wait was not her fault. “It’s about Lucky’s condition. Our veterinarians have her relatively stable, but she…”
the nurse trailed off, clutching her clipboard and looking
extremely uncomfortable.
“What is it?” Matt growled, trying very hard to keep
his tone polite.
“I-I, She, well….I guess I’ll let the vet explain,” she
stammered. Matt gave Grace a small shake to rouse her.
“What time is it?” Grace asked blearily. She rubbed
her eyes and sat up slowly. Then she turned around and saw
the veterinarian’s aid standing awkwardly in the hallway
leading to the operation room. “How’s Lucky doing? Will she
make it? Can you save her?” Grace asked desperately with a
crazy glint in her eye as if she might throttle the veterinarian’s
aid for answers if she didn’t give them quickly enough.
“Uh, if you would follow me,” she suggested, turning
around and walking down the hall. Grace leapt up and almost
ran after the woman in her haste to follow. Matt tagged along
as well with a permanent scowl etched on his face.
The woman showed them to a room down near the
end of the hallway. She opened the door for them and turned
to walk away.
Grace took one look at the creature strewn on the
operation table and burst into uncontrollable tears. Even Matt,
who normally didn’t want to have anything to do with the
stinky, smelly, slobbering, overly hyperactive mutt, couldn’t
bear the sight of Lucky, barely alive, hooked up to half a dozen
machines. Blinking tears out of his eyes, he headed for the
hallway. He didn’t want Grace to catch him crying.
“I know, I know,” said a veterinarian who Grace
didn’t notice at first from the corner of the room. He was
closely monitoring Lucky’s heart rate. “I personally think that
it’s very tactless of your brother to leave you all alone at a time
like this.” He looked like he was in his late fifties and had gray
hair scattered throughout his scalp.
“It’s okay. That’s his way of feeling sorry for Lucky,”
Grace moaned softly.
“Well, first of all, I just want to make it very clear
that it was nobody’s fault that Lucky got hurt. It was an
accident, and I’m sure you already know that,” the vet said,
looking directly into Grace’s eyes.
“Yes, I know.” Grace knelt by Lucky’s side and
stroked her jet black pelt. She was careful to avoid touching
her injuries and only resorted to giving small pats on the head.
“I’m very sorry about this, but Lucky broke twen-
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ty-six bones, many of which pierced her internal organs like
her lungs for example. Two of her ribs completely shattered
on impact, and she would need major organ replacements.”
The vet explained seriously. “Most dogs don’t survive the
moment that they get hit by a car, but it’s a miracle that
Lucky even made it this far.” His eyebrows knit together as
he creased his forehead.
“What should I do then?” Grace asked, trembling
from head to toe.
“Euthanasia would be the kindest solution. Lucky
won’t have to be in pain anymore.”
But is there another way? Grace pleaded with her
eyes.
“The impact of car jostled her spine, so even if
Lucky does make it past a lung replacement, she would be
paralyzed from the waist down forever. Do you want your
dog to suffer through that pain for the rest of her life?” the
vet asked sternly. He eyed Grace carefully over the top of his
spectacles.
“N-No, of course not. I think e-euthanasia would
be a better option.”
“I’ll be back in a moment,” the vet nodded curtly
before backing out of the room.
Grace bent closer towards Lucky and kissed her
nose the way she always used to. Lucky stirred feebly and
seemed to peer at Grace through a haze of pain. She lifted
her head an inch above the table and thumped her tail happily at the sight of her. Grace stroked her fur in silence with
tears streaming down her face.
Too soon, the door opened and the vet returned,
this time, carrying a needle full of a yellowish liquid. “Let’s
get this over with,” he said softly striding towards Lucky. He
glanced at Grace for permission before moving on.
Against her will, Grace forced herself to nod, but
she never stopped stroking Lucky’s fur. With Grace’s approval, the vet shot the liquid into one of the tubes that was
inserted into Lucky’s vein.
Grace watched with tears swarming into her eyes
as the liquid trickled down the tube. Throughout the entire
process, Lucky kept her eyes fixed on Grace without blinking. Slowly, as the fluid worked its way into her heart, her
breathing became more labored, and her eyelids started to
droop. As her eyes closed slowly, she nuzzled Grace’s hand
one last time before her heart stopped all together.
Grace stayed by Lucky’s side, still stroking her motionless pelt until Matt came in. “Let’s go Gracie. We’re done
here. You made the right choice even though it was hard.”
Grace nodded dumbly, unable to speak without
crying. She allowed Matt to lead her out of the operation
room, through the hallway, past the waiting room, and out
the clinic. The bitter, cold wind helped wake her to the present. “What time is it?” she asked quietly.
“About 2:00 in the morning. Do you still want to
go to school tomorrow?” Matt asked gently.
Grace shook her head firmly as they walked down
the long, dark road that would eventually lead her home.
Elsie Soderberg
Just a Memory
Peter Zhao
There was a house which once stood here.
I knew of it, you know,
Though only as I wandered near,
Past houses, row by row,
As on my way to school each day
Yet never wandered in.
Those past few years it stood that way
Not stranger, yet not kin.
I left that place, and that abode
A little while ago,
Yet happened to re-walk that road
That place I used to know.
I met with some surprise when I
That frosty morning found,
As walking past those houses by
A plot of empty ground.
Autumn Day
Abby Campbell
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It stood there once, and still it does,
Yet only in my mind.
It stood out not while it still was
Yet strangely do I find
That now I walk past houses there
And now does it stand out,
As walking past that empty air
A strangely sadder route.
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Esther Kuiper
Land of Fiery Shadows
Esther Kuiper
The trip in the valley is a lonely one.
Many trees cast their shadows on this dying green land.
The roots are withered and cause one to fall.
The famine spreads like an unforeseen hand.
Splash!
Milan Loiacono
No water rains, but lightning finds
A weak land of timber in which to light.
The valley is dark with the gloom of each day,
And it is destined to yield a fire bright.
The valley holds their trembling hearts.
But mine, it will not hide in the frightening dark.
The wind takes the fire and spreads it far,
And in my soul, it scars its mark.
The fire brightens with each act of hate.
But the shadows grow dim at the future’s revealing.
My soul finds peace in the light through the trees.
And I hope for life beyond this world’s ceiling.
So, find peace in the shadows in which you stand.
And pursue a hope beyond this fiery land.
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Lake Tulloch
Victoria Lieb
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Thanksgiving Days
Jon Shieh
For what tidings shall I give thanks;
What blessings have filled my meager tank?
When despair or confusion cloud my day,
Could a simple gratitude pave my way?
Shall I give thanks for things I’ve lost,
Or for the lessons of earthly cost;
If I’ve an explanation of things I’ve gained,
Maybe I could say thanks for ways I’ve changed.
And to what end shall I continue to say,
“I thank the Lord,” when my soul feels gray;
Like hay or sticks, both easily blown,
Or tossed by wind–is it seed I’ve sown?
How do I reconcile when a mistake is made,
Or appreciate when I’m trying to blame?
If I force the words from my stubbornness,
Would I see then the miracles I’ve missed?
For something here seems wrong when, in turn,
Bitterness my heart doth churn–
But this gut reaction I must recoil,
Lest a harboring comes to boil.
Perhaps the words will help me correct,
Toward hope, and joy! if I elect.
A thanksgiving a day keeps the enemies away,
And counters their lies and deathly sways.
For a song to sing, my soul longs again,
Contrary to my heart’s selfish trends.
Though simple thanks may be easy to come by,
I seek once more a strong, sweet lullaby.
Sharon Park
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Rubik’s Cube
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Caitlin Johnson
My life is a Rubik’s Cube, complex with many twists and turns.
“Click, Click, Click”
I pass myself from one person to the next, hoping the mess of colors will be solved.
“Click, Click, Click”
The random, colorful squares make no sense; nothing can fix this jumbled mess.
“Click…Click…Click”
Jean Chen
One by one, they all give up; they all walk away from my chaos and confusion.
“….. … ….. … …..”
Mother Oak
But then He reaches down, picks me up, and solves me in a second; the master of my life.
“Click, Click, Done”
In the midst of a land
Filled with darkness an’ all else banned
Was a seed that fell from the sky to the ground.
Katherine Wong-Lam
A mysterious hand with its mysterious ways
Planted that seed in a field where cows grazed.
Tendered and nurtured, alone in its orchard, all in its own little mound.
Then the rain, with its soft pitter-patter
Struck the earth ‘round it, causing it to splatter.
In spite of all this, the seed continued to growNow a big-girl plant, its leaves sprouted broad
Its roots grew long, grew deep in the sod,
It was no longer the seed that the hand had sowed.
Speed up some years, and what shall we find?
A strong oak tree; it boggles the mind!
Who knew that a small seed would produce such a wonder?
Old Mother Oak, once so youthful and free,
Is now an old woman, for whom we now grieve,
For her stiff trunk gives way at the sound of crashing thunder.
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Saved Through Faith
Seoul, Korea, May 29th, 1990
“She’s a beautiful child, Hwan,” Aunt Yun smiled.
“You are very lucky.”
The other people in the room nodded. The mom of
the newborn baby, Hwan, smiled slightly. “Thank you Yun,”
she whispered. “However,” she looked over at her husband for
support, “I cannot keep her.”
The other relatives gasped. “Why not, Hwan?” They
all demanded.
“We are too poor and even though we were both
like to keep her, we already decided that we cannot afford it.”
Hwan tried to stop the tears coming out of her eyes. “We’re
looking for a person to take her in that can take good care of
her.”
No one in the room stepped forward. They were
all too poor to keep another child, even one as beautiful and
healthy as this newborn baby. Finally the midwife stepped forward. “If you don’t mind, I have a friend in Gangnam. They
are well off and they want another girl.”
Hwan paused. “Do you think they’ll take my child?”
The midwife smiled, “I don’t see why not.”
Hwan bent over her child one last time and kissed
her forehead before handing her over to the midwife.
“Please...tell this new family that my husband and I have decided that our child’s name will be Ryung Kumi and she will
have no other name.”
12 years later
“I’m home!” Ryung stepped through the front door.
“Hello.” Her foster mother looked out the kitchen
door. “Oh, you’re home. Where’s your father? He hasn’t called
me today.”
“I don’t know,” Ryung answered.
“I see. Well you can…Teppei! Don’t eat that!” Her
mother ran off.
Ryung grabbed her school bag and headed upstairs
to start studying again. Her mother and her father did not
pay much attention to her. She was the middle child. Her
father favored her older brother, Kazuma, and her mother
adored her little brother, Teppei. She knew from an early age
that she was adopted. Her real parents probably neglected her
because she was so plain anyway. From a young age, Ryung
thought that if she was better at something than anyone, her
mother and father would learn to appreciate her. Not exactly
having the courage to become a popular girl, and not having
the strength to become a sporty girl, Ryung sent her hopes on
her academic skills. Ever since second grade, not a single time
did she get second place in the class rankings. She was always
first. Her teachers were astonished and often would send good
notes back to her parents, but her parents never did more than
slightly compliment her. Once, when Ryung was in fourth
Tammie Ma
grade, she found a stack of papers that contained all her teacher’s good notes in a bundle next to the trash can, ready to be
taken out. Ever since then, Ryung worked even harder to earn
both her teachers’ and parents’ approval. Ryung pulled out her
math workbook and started concentrating on working ahead
of her class.
4 years later
Ryung packed up her bags and headed out of class
two hours later. She always finished her work before going
to her apartment since she found no joy in going back to the
damp and dreary room that she had rented out just for the
university’s first semester. She also did not have enough money to buy food anyway, so there was no point in going back
“home” to eat. Ryung walked slowly along the streets and she
suddenly stopped by a medicine shop. Hmm. I do have a sore
throat. Maybe I should buy one of those herb throat syrups.
I think I have enough money for that. Ryung stepped inside
and was examining the medicines when a strange white haired
elderly man walked up to her.
“Excuse me,” he asked in a strange accent. “Do you
mind helping me read this label?”
Ryung looked up at him curiously. Maybe he knows
that I’m educated enough to understand! Finally I can be
worth something. Ryung glanced at the label, “It’s a medicine
to stop coughing made from mountain herbs,” she translated
as she handed it back.
“Thank you,” the man smiled. “God’s bless,” he
called out before walking off.
God’s bless? Ryung stood still for a moment before
called out for the man again. “Excuse me,” Ryung asked timidly. “Who’s God?”
The man smiled, “God loves you and He sent His
Son to die for you and your sins.”
Ryung frowned. “He loves me? More than my mom
and dad?”
“More than your mom and dad,” the man confirmed.
Ryung paused briefly. “Where can I find out more
about this God?”
The man laughed. “You can come over to my apartment and I’ll talk with you some more. Is that alright?”
Ryung reflected on what he said. It did not seem to
be a bad idea, so she accepted with readiness. On the way to
his apartment, she learned that this elderly man was Doctor
Parisi, a retired doctor who decided to spend his retirement
spreading the Gospel in Korea. He was from New York, and
Ryung was fascinated with all the descriptions he told her
about New York. When they finally got down to the main
point, the doctor guaranteed that God loved her no matter
what and she could only gain heaven if she believed in Jesus.
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With that one sentence, Ryung immediately surrendered her
life to God. For once, she felt like she was loved and worth
something even if her parents did not show her any affection.
After several weeks, the doctor allowed her to move into the
spare room in his apartment.
5 days later
“Ryung!” Hyori called out.
“Yes?” Ryung answered. “Do you need help with
anything?”
“The teacher wants to see you,” Hyori panted, out of
breath.
“Okay then, thanks for telling me.” Ryung smiled
brightly before setting off for the teacher’s room.
Hyori stared after her in amazement. Something had
changed in Ryung. Everyone noticed it. She looked like she
was eating more and she smiled a lot more
too. She had gained more confidence in the
past five days than in the last three years. It
was obvious that something had happened to
her, but no one knew what yet.
Ryung knocked on the teacher’s
door.
“Come in.” the teacher opened her
door.
Ryung readily came in. “Is there
something I forgot?”
“No.” The teacher shook her head.
“However, everyone in the school has noticed
that you have changed quite a lot in the past
five days. Would you care to enlighten me on
what has happened to you?”
Ryung smiled, “I have hope now
because I was saved through faith.” With
that, she walked out of the room without the
teacher’s dismissal.
The teacher stared after her. “The
child has gone insane,” she whispered.
creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” Ryung
reread the passage several times before staring up at the doctor
who was relaxing in his sofa.
“What is it, Ryung?” the doctor asked when he saw
her slightly pale face.
“My name is not…Ryung…” Ryung replied slowly.
“Are you feeling alright?” the doctor immediately got
out of his chair.
Ryung started to laugh. “I’m feeling fine, don’t
worry. I think God is calling me to change my name to Faith
Kumi instead of Grace Kumi, because I am a new person
through faith.”
The doctor laughed. “Nice. I like the sound of Faith
Kumi better anyway.”
Faith smiled, “From now on, in God’s family, my
name is Faith Kumi, and I will have no other name.”
1 year later, December 16th, 2006
Ryung sat flipping through the
Bible. She had developed a habit of opening the Bible to a random page and reading
whatever verse her eyes fell on first. This
time, she opened her Bible to 1 Peter 1:21.
“Through Him you believe in God, who
raised Him from the dead and glorified Him,
and so your faith and hope are in God.”
Ryung thought over this passage and flipped
to another random verse. Titus 1:2: “A faith
and knowledge resting on the hope of eternal
life, which God, who does not lie, promised
before the beginning of time...” Ryung smiled
and bookmarked the page before flipping
again to another passage. 2 Corinthians 5:17:
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new
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Love Someone
Emily Starke
Someone wakes and greets the dawn and with actual words, too.
Someone finds joy in the simplest of things, like dew on a spider’s web.
Someone dives into a world of their own and listens to the voices in their head.
Someone dives so deep into books that when you ask a question, they have to claw their way out.
Someone flees from life with crippled wings to the love that will heal them.
Others look to the shelter in God and take refuge in Him rather than man.
So don’t complain about dawn’s joyful noises. Rejoice with them.
Don’t break the web and shake off the dew. Marvel at its beauty.
Don’t let them drown in the voices. Give them a lifeline of love.
Don’t abandon them in a well of literature. Guide them to the top.
Don’t pull out their plumage. Give them God’s love and His Word that they need.
Because God loves each and every Someone, we should too.
Pray with those in God’s refuge, whether they are mourning or praising Him, feeling faithful or weak,
happy or sad.
Love Someone.
By this everyone will know that
you are my disciples,
if you love one another.
John 13:35
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Emilia Sunderland
19
z
“What resources?” inquired a doctor.
“Gliese needs water. Thing is my people have
set base up in… San Francisco, in building. I will help
you because I observe human and I like human…nice
people. My people no good.” it said.
“James, go with the alien,” said General John,
afraid of what to do next.
“But, sir-“
“Look, if he wanted to hurt us, he would have,
by now,” John said back. I had to listen, as he was not
only my Commander- in- chief but also my father.
The President whispered to me, “I want that
alien safe”.
The strange creature told me to follow. As we
went, soldiers saluted at me.
“My name is TY-SON, you people waste a lot.
Shouldn’t you conserve?” it ranted.
I ignored its question. As we went outside, we
saw a crushed building with its lights flickering. Water
was gushing out of pipes. A Mercedes- Benz was stuck
in the window of the building. There was no-one to be
seen, though.
“James, your name? I am sorry- I tried to stop
them,” he said. TY-SON lowered his eyes apologetically.
Apparently his fellow aliens were determined to destroy
Earth.
Megan Jow
Friday the 13th
Rishabh Vashishta
January 13, 2012 12 A.M.
It was 12 A.M. and I was having an awesome party
with my comrades from the Army! I loved having fun but
when I did my work, I gave it my full dedication. There
was one other thing about me – I didn’t care much for nature. I didn’t believe in all the “Go Green” stuff. I littered
and always kept the electricity and water running. All of
a sudden, I got a call. My iPhone said “General John Sir
calling…” I picked up, wondering why he would call me.
“James, go to CNN now,” ordered the General.
I told my friends to switch to CNN and then I heard:
“President Obama has declared a state of emergency as we
do not know if the aliens are hostile or not. We have put
our best scientists to the job, says President Obama and…”
My mouth hung with disbelief. Dr. Vardeson of Arizona
had predicted that the aliens would come today and it was
happening. Wait… it was?
“Get to California, Sergeant James,” I was ordered.
“Ye- yes, sir,” was all I could utter through my
stammering mouth.
My Army comrades came along too.
January 13, 2012 1:30 A.M.
I looked at General John in a terrified manner,
then at the President.
“James, they came at around 9 P.M. It was this…
weird ship…that they came in. They are hostile, James.
They came out with high-tech guns of some sort. We don’t
know anything about them, but that they are scattered
around Washington and killing people- mostly important
people who have a lot of money, while continuously asking
for something. But, we captured one. It was moving slower
than the other ones.”
I had never seen anything like it before. It looked
like a bird with sharp, razor teeth. It had wings on the
sides and purple fur. It looked like Hasbro’s Furby doll.
Its eyes were closed and doctors were working on it. Then,
it opened its eyes. At that moment, it slowly started to
advance towards the doctors.
“We worked on speaking English a long time; we
watch you for long time and we find out about rich people
here,” it said in broken English.
“Why are you here?” inquired General John.
“For long time Gliese has run out resources.” it
said.
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20
January 13, 2012 6:00 A.M.
A small girl was standing in the middle of the
road, crying. Just then, an alien crept up behind her. It
was uglier than TY-SON but had similar features to it.
I ran and grabbed the girl, before TY-SON took out a
weapon and shot at the other alien. This alien was too
good with a gun. It fell down. Just then, Dad came from
behind with an ambulance and doctor. He took in the
girl.
“TY-SON, whose water was this originally?” I
asked in a fearful voice.
“Ours, we gave you some, just as your species
was about to go extinct. It is rightfully our water. Now,
you just waste it,” it said to me.
I was afraid of that being the answer.
I got goose bumps. They had been here before
us. They had actually helped evolve mankind.
A swarm of aliens had gathered in the distance.
I quickly ducked behind a nearby school bus. I took out
my AK-47 gun. Just then, TY-SON whispered to me:
“Your guns are useless, little balls of lead,” it
said. It took out what looked like a pistol and fired it.
Nothing came out. But, in the distance, the aliens died.
Their technology was way better, also. We moved on.
January 13, 2012 8:00 A.M.
“How did your kind find us, TY-SON?” I was
beginning to like this new friend of mine.
“So much pollution- something reeked in the
galaxy,” TY-SON laughed.
“Well then, how did you run out of water?” I
asked.
TY-SON fell silent. Just then, we reached the
building- it was gray and cracked. I opened the door,
slowly, and took out my gun, while the alien took out
its firearm. There was nobody inside… but a massive
spaceship with blinking lights- a UFO- was leaving.
My confused look did not match the alien’s
look.
“A distraction,” it said, “My trick, to lead to
the imaginary base, worked! We have all the water to
ourselves now,” it said aloud.
I couldn’t believe that we had all fallen for it.
We had blindly trusted other-worldly visitors without,
ever once, trying to figure out who they were. Truly,
the scientists in all the science fiction movies could do
better!
I took out my AK- 47 and pointed it at TYSON with absolute fear. This alien was too good with a
gun.
“Your balls of lead cannot hurt me! But my gun
can, human! You are a very stupid species who will do
anything when pressured and under fear,” it rammed on.
My face was now full of fear.
“You don’t understand. Our planet has already
been destroyed. It is 2012. Your planet doesn’t die in
the future. Our planet ended in 2020 and we are from
2026. The future Earth has way less water, so we came
back. Time travel is possible, my friend. We went back
in time and changed time. So, now, your planet will die.
Not ours,” it said.
January 13, 2012 11:00 A.M.
We had nothing- all those times wasting water
were now gone. I was thirsty and I needed some water,
but I now knew I wouldn’t be able to have some. Time
had already passed. TY-SON had been there before and
had now gone into the dark and chilly night of Friday
the 13th. As it left, a smile crept along my face, when I
saw black clouds loom overhead. The one thing that I
had never cared about, would now take care of me. That
thing was nature. Those aliens did not know about one
of the most mystical things on Earth - rain. Surely, or at
least, I hoped, that it would rain on this dark and chilly
night of Friday the 13th.
y
21
z
It’s a Small World After All
Megan D’Souza
Every year, my family makes a trip to India to visit my grandparents. And every year, I see clusters of children darting across the streets in uniforms. Hanging on to cars and huddling together at the bus stop. And I don’t
know why, but I always wonder about them. Maybe it’s because that would have been my life if my parents hadn’t
moved to America in the 90s for college. Or maybe, it’s because they go through life everyday experiencing the
same things my parents did thirty years ago. For the past couple of years I’ve been dying to go to one of the schools,
and meet some of the kids. So on this trip, when I got the chance to visit Jamnabai Narsee, an elite K-12 school in
Mumbai, I jumped.
As I stepped out of the car into the puddle-covered street, the first thing that caught my eyes was the tall
ivory structure in front of me. It looked very different from the one story, outdoor hallways of California schools.
While we made our way across the street, my mom and I were both shot strange looks from the students hurrying
into their school building, and by the security guard telling us to put our phones away. Ten long minutes later (they
felt long because I was eagerly anticipating the start of the school day), my aunt came to the front of the school and
took me into her office for some time as we waited for school to start. Every so often our conversation would be
disturbed by the sound of little boys’ tennis balls colliding with the door.
We took the elevator up to the floor where the 9th and 10th grades had their classes. By the time we
reached the “foyer,” I felt like a million eyes were on me, just because I was wearing different clothes. I noticed that
the school had all grades under one roof, unlike in America, where we typically had different school buildings for
elementary, middle and high school.
The girls who were my ‘tour guides’ were completely warm and welcoming. They told me what to do during
their assembly, how to sit in the lines, and what all they had to recite everyday: 1. Prayer 2. National Anthem 3.
School Anthem. A couple of students were chosen every day to share an inspirational thought during the assembly.
After that, they went back into their classrooms for language lessons, which was their choice of Hindi, Marathi, and
Gujarati. This was the only class that the students rotated for. In most Indian schools, the teachers are the ones who
rotate; the students sit in the same desk all day. In America, it’s the complete opposite - while teachers stay in one
class where they have all their materials set up in and around the classroom, the students lug around all their supplies in a backpack.
The second period of the day was English class, where we read out of a short story collection. Everyone
stood up and read a passage, which I thought was like an oral test, similar to what we did in French class back
home. When that class was over, the entire school went on break. During this break, the girls gave me a tour of their
school: the preschool, the cafeteria, the international floor… they even bought me a pau vada (which I devoured)!
By the time break was over, we scrambled back into the classroom in time for science class. Or rather - multiple
science classes. In India, they take Biology, Physics, and Chemistry each year, as three different classes. In America,
we only study one science subject a year.
After lunch, it was time for PE, or as they call it in India, P-ed. Since it was raining heavily outside, half the
class stood under the windowsill, while the other half got soaked playing basketball. When the bell rang to indicate
that school was over, everyone got ready to leave. Some of the girls took me across the street and bought me their
favorite savory snack- a Frankie. I found out later that I had tried the spiciest one… but it was SO delicious! When
I brought it back to my grandma’s house, my little sister tried it and she loved it just as much as I did. My sister Ria,
my mom, and I bought 5 more for lunch on a trip to the mall, but that’s beside the point.
All in all, I feel like I really benefited from my trip to Jamnabai. When I walked through the doors in the
morning, I was prepared for a whole another world. And at first, that’s how it seemed: different class routines,
different customs, and different ways of learning. As the day progressed, however, I saw through the outer shell of
contrast between my school and theirs, and realized that at the core, they were both the same. I was impressed by
the warmth of everyone I met – even the principal, who welcomed me so lovingly. I’m so grateful to the Principal,
my aunt, and my mom for giving me this opportunity. It means so much to me.
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22
Duck
Andrew Huang
Bird
Shania Wang
23
z
Bass Guitar Ken Knaus
Strings rough as rocks, sound smooth as silk.
Fingers walk in rhythm, making mellow vibes.
Calloused tips dance lightly on tight strings.
Fingers burn, moving fast, heartbeats slow.
Steady, sturdy rhythm, like a heart beats.
On a rock solid base other sounds come and go
Weave their tones into a melodious jazz blanket.
Soft, warm, comfortable, gently flowing, tunes.
Sometimes energized, syncopated, stimulated
Megan Jow
The Dark Shadows
Samuel Ogihara
I looked back thinking that the darkness didn’t follow me. I knew something was amiss. This
was like a nightmare to me; I screamed for help, but all there was is empty darkness. All my worst fears
came true as if it was a supernatural occurrence. My body started tingling as if I was swallowed by fear
itself. For I knew the dark shadows lurked behind the corner and I suddenly ran for my life. Suddenly, I
heard explosives raining down into the city as if World War III was about to happen. A boy my age came
running towards me screaming from the top of his lungs and told me to hide. I hid in the darkest alley in
the city so that the bombs would not hit me. It sounded creepy around the alley; this filled my heart with
suspiciousness. This made me fall into a deep slumber that I thought I was never going to wake up from.
I finally had the strength to wake up and I found myself in an apartment room. A man in his
middle age came up to me and gave me food. He said that he found me passed out in an alley a few hours
ago. It was still dark, but I told myself that everything was safe and no trouble was ahead. I slept some
more, but I felt the darkness had come to kill me when I heard more rumbling noises. The man asked me
about what was happening and I told him the evil forces were out there. Out of nowhere the glass shattered into oblivion and the darkness came through. I ran out of the building as fast as I could so that I
would not be found. I panted for air, but it didn’t fill my energy back up. The world was filling up with
darkness as if it was swallowed by the void.
So, I went across the city searching for help, yet I couldn’t find anyone. My body stopped and
started to tremble for the shadows stopped me in my tracks. The darkness formed into a hole and was
pulling me into it. I grabbed onto a pole hoping that it would sustain me from falling into the dark pit
below. It kept tugging me to go through, but I had the strength to hold on. The darkness got worse and it
forcefully pushed me through the void which made me fall into a realm of darkness and emptiness.
Suddenly, a stream of powerful light immersed and permeated the darkness with its mighty beams
and ejected me from the bottom of the pit. It brought me back to life, gave me a fresh beginning and
hope towards a bright future. The dark shadows finally dimmed away and were wiped out by the luminous effect of the light!
Blues, Bossa, Swing, Latin, All Jazz, All Good.
ALL DONE
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24
25
Diary of a Duck
z
Jenny Nguyen and Beth Scalise
For Walker Eberwein, who loved math and making people
laugh. We dedicate Pip Peregrine to him. I bet they have amazing
kumquats in heaven.
When I saw the ducks solving Algebra problems, I
knew I belonged here. I went from being alone and unloved
to being surrounded by hundreds of other ducks who are
just like me. It’s all so exciting! For a while, I wandered about
aimlessly, staring in awe at the great world that these ducks
had built. Everyone I saw smiled at me, but I noticed that
none of them said a word to me. It made me a little nervous.
I hoped I wasn’t doing anything wrong on my first day at my
new home.
I hopped over to the edge of the shelf I was on to get
away from the silent ducks, who officially made me uncomfortable. From the edge, I saw several tables, multiple empty
chairs, and everywhere I looked there were numbers.
I started to look down when I heard, “Hey kid, get
away from there!” Quickly, I backed up away from the edge.
So quickly, that I ran right into the duck who had spoken to
me.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” I said, helping him up and dusting myself off.
“Don’t worry about it, kid.” He brushed the dust off
his clothes. “Just do yourself a favor and stay away from the
edge. It’s a dangerous place.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What are you even doing here? You look new.” I
nodded. “You ought to head over to the initiation shelf,
kid, get some things straightened out. It’s right over there.”
He pointed at a shelf in the distance. “You’ll want to meet
with Miss Andromeda Hale.” I scribbled the name down so I
wouldn’t forget. “Now hop along kid, and be careful.”
“Thank you! I said as I headed off in the direction of
the shelf.
I shuddered in anticipation as I waddled to the initiation shelf, wondering about the other twist this story could
have taken. I never felt close to my previous owner, so I felt
that I’d find more of a home here. Hundreds of other ducks
were happy here. Why shouldn’t I be?
Before my final descent, a couple of guards stopped
me. The ducks were burly and buff, and they didn’t squeak.
Were they even rubber? One almost looked like he was made
of cloth. I cowered under their glare and began to scoot away,
but the softer one cracked a smile at me.
“New duck, huh?” he asked. I simply nodded. “Do
you have identification?”
The other duck pecked him before I could respond.
“He’s new, you duncebucket. He doesn’t have identification
yet.”
“I need to meet with Miss Andromeda Hale,” I said.
“You don’t get in without identification.” Both
guards folded their wings across their chests.
“Well, if I don’t get into that shelf, I won’t be able to
get identification.” I glanced down at the floor before meeting
their gaze again.
“We’re just teasing you, kid.” The second guard patted my shoulder. “Go ahead. But you do need the identification next time.”
“Thank you, sir.” I bowed as the guards pulled the
doors open, and I waddled into the room.
For a shelf, one would think that classy isn’t a possible look, but Miss Andromeda’s office was gorgeous. Light
streamed from windows placed at perfect angles from the
sunlight. The most brilliant of ducks must have designed this
architecture. A futon sat on the opposite end of a desk on top
of a rug, creating a cozy atmosphere.
“Have a seat,” a voice said from behind the desk. I
immediately sat on the couch, squeaking loudly. I covered my
bill in embarrassment.
“So we have another squeaker in our midst.” The
chair behind the desk spun around, and a stern duck peered
at me with cold eyes. “Haven’t had a new one of your kind in
ages.”
“Thank you, Miss Andromeda.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“You’re welcome to call me Andy.” She smiled tautly,
but the authority in her eyes never faded.
“I prefer to call you by your formal title, Miss
Andromeda.”
“I see.” She lifted her gaze as she began to type away
at her computer. “What is your name again?”
“Percival Jensen Dubois,” I answered with
confidence.
She nodded, her feathers still clicking away at the
keyboard. “Previous owner?”
“Janelle Tran.”
“If a car is driven forty-five miles for one hour and
another fifty miles at a rate of a half of a mile a minute, what
is his average rate?”
I traced my wing in the air, muttering to myself. A
bead of sweat rolled down my face as I concentrated. “Thirty-five and five-eighths of a mile an hour,” I answered.
“There was scratch paper right there.” She pointed at
the edge of her desk and entered something. “But your time
was two minutes, on the dot.”
“Oh.” I slouched on the couch, then straightened
my posture again. “Does that mean I did well?”
“That information is confidential.” Her eyes never
left the screen. The printer hummed as she spoke. “It’s to protect the privacy of all the ducks. Most of them don’t like their
results shared with the others.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” I knew I didn’t want my
results shared with the others, especially if my time had been
bad.
“Well Percival, let me be the first to officially wel-
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26
come you to the Haugenot duck army.” She waddled over to
me and handed me a small slip of paper. “This is a temporary
identification badge. You will get your official one after you
have completed the initiation process.”
“You mean there’s more?” I asked without thinking,
and instantly regretted it. I had hoped this would be easy.
“Yes, but you don’t need to worry. There will be
many older and wiser ducks who will help you feel at home.
In fact, I would like you to go through the door to your left,
where you will meet Pip Peregrine. He will be your official
initiation duck, and he’ll teach you all you need to know
about the duck army.” She gestured to another door on the
opposite side of the room. “Good luck.”
“Alright, thank you very much Miss Andromeda.”
I smiled as I stood from the couch and waddled over to the
door.
When I stepped into the room, I couldn’t see a
thing. Darkness shrouded my surroundings. I waved my
wing in front of my face, but I could barely feel it. “Hello?
Anyone here?” There was no response whatsoever. “Hello?”
Trembling, my emotions were on the borderline of fear and
excited anticipation. Then suddenly the room was flooded
with such bright light that I was temporarily blinded.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” As my eyes adjusted, I saw a duck wearing a bright party hat standing on a
table.
“Hi,” I said; it was the first word I could think of.
He jumped off the table, did a flip, and landed inches away
from me with one wing out. I hesitantly put out my wing in
return and he grabbed it and gave me the heartiest handshake
in the history of handshakes.
“You’re going to love it here, kid. I’ve got so much
to show you. I can’t wait! Let’s get started. Come on, follow
me!” He skipped away, and I followed behind. I had a feeling
this was the start of something crazy, and I wasn’t quite sure
if I’d like it yet.
A large percentage of the training required a chunk
of mental work, stretching my neurons to exhaustion. By
the end of the process, I would stare at the ground with
contempt. All the while, Pip stared inquisitively at my work,
shaking or nodding his head at every problem.
“Right answer,” he would say, stroking his
clean-shaven chin, “but you’re doing it all wrong.”
“How is that possible?” I asked, gripping my
forehead to ward off the intruding migraine.
“The Boss requires us to do everything a specific
way.” He hopped to a file cabinet and brought back a stack
of papers. “These are the instructions. They haven’t changed
in the past... Well, I don’t think they’ve ever changed. We’ve
been teaching all ducks the same thing since then, as well as
fed them kumquats. I love kumquats.”
“Well, why do have to do all this work in my head?
Couldn’t I just use a calculator or something?”
“No calculators!” Pip screamed in my face, causing
a temporary loss of hearing. “We never ever use calculators
here unless absolutely necessary. Communists make
calculators. Do you want to support the communists?”
“Uh… I don’t think so…”
“Good answer. Now, back to work.”
“Can I at least have some water?” Apparently, mental math made me really thirsty.
“Not while you’re working.”
“Why not?” I asked. There were so many rules here.
“Well, you’re deriving the answers to these
problems. And everyone knows you never drink and derive.”
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27
z
Pip chucked at his horrible pun. “I’m not serious kid. Take a
break, relax, and I’ll get you some water.”
“Thank you.” I got up from the table and stretched.
Pip came over to me and handed me a glass of water.
“Here you go, kid. Duck army’s finest water. Well,
actually the only water we have. But it is amazing. You want a
kumquat to go with that?”
“I think I’m good.” I stared at the paper and sat
down again. It looked like a bunch of numbers randomly
thrown together. “So...what is the purpose of the duck army?”
“You don’t know?” Pip straightened his back and
glared. “Well, you’ve only been here for so long. You might as
well hear the story.”
Pip stood up on the table and began to flail his
wings. “So there was a duck in Mexico. Well, he didn’t actually come from Mexico. He was brought there by The Boss, but
he was stolen. But you’re not supposed to know that yet. You
need to hear about the Rubber Ducky CD first. That song
could fit thirty-four times. But this was discovered before The
Boss even got the original duck, and--”
“I don’t get what you’re trying to say...” I interrupted. “Can you start from the beginning?”
“I can tell you,” a gravelly voice said from the dark
corner of the room. All the lights in the room aimed towards
the source of the voice. An older duck with a black top hat
and a cane sat there alone.
“Mr. Henrick.” Pip bowed, and I followed suit.
“Who is he?” I whispered to Pip. I could tell by
looking at him that he was very old and very important. His
eyes were crinkled at the corners, and he had an air of authority, respect, and knowledge.
“That’s Mr. Henrick. The boss.”
“You mean he’s The Boss you’ve been talking about?”
“No no no, he’s the boss, not The Boss. With a
lowercase B. You understand me, don’t you readers? Now be
quiet, Percival. He’s coming over here, so be respectful.”
I looked at Pip quizzically, but he didn’t explain
who the “readers” were, so I turned my attention back to Mr.
Henrick.
He waddled over to me and gave me a quick glance.
“You’re the new initiate. Percival, right?” He coughed into his
wing.
“Yes, Mr. Henrick.” I scratched my head. “Would
you mind telling the story?”
“Of course not.” He mumbled as he searched
through his pockets. “Where did that finklefangled book go?”
I glanced at Pip, who just looked at Mr. Henrick
with bright eyes. A leather-bound book poked out of Mr.
Henrick’s back pocket. “Ummm.” I pointed to it.
“Ahh, thank you, Percy.” He pulled it out. “Can I
call you Percy?”
“I guess...” I shrugged nonchalantly.
“Now,” he said, flipping open the book, “let me tell
you the story about the Original Haugenot Duck.”
March 20, 1998
Dear journal,
I’ve chosen to address you as “journal” rather than
“diary” because it’s more original. Well, it’s not that much
more original, but nothing is ever original. Anyways, I have
some news. Someone bought me. Yes, that’s right, no more
boring life on a shelf for me. I’m going on an adventure.
I’ll probably die sometime along the journey. The man who
bought me is…very strange. He was a little old, and somewhat odd. I know he’s up to something, and I’m going to
find out what. It’s just a hunch, but I think we’re going to go
on some sort of trip. I’ll get back to you when I have more
evidence.
Yours Truly,
R. Duck
March 21, 1998
Dear journal,
He’s definitely plotting something...but I don’t know.
It could possibly be a conspiracy. Today from my high and
mighty place as king of the kitchen table, I observed him
making a CD. It wasn’t just any CD, but a CD with the rubber ducky song on it thirty-four times. Thirty-four times! Apparently, it only fits that many times, or he would have added
more. What kind of crazy person puts the rubber ducky song
on a CD thirty-four times? I’ll be keeping an eye on him.
Yours Truly,
R. Duck
March 22, 1998
Dear journal,
I knew it. I knew that this man was off his rocker.
He took me early in the morning, at four in the morning, a
time when normal people are asleep, and put me in his cold
car. Probably as frigid as his soul. And you want to know what
he did next? He left me there. In his freezing, icy, subzero
death trap of a car. In fact, that’s where I am right now. This
man is crazy. I’ll get back to you later with more. If I don’t
freeze to death first.
Yours Truly,
R. Duck
Later that day
Dear journal,
I am pleased to inform you that I am still very much
alive, albeit slightly chilled. However, I still do not trust this
man or his accomplices. He has rowdy teenage boys to do his
bidding. They sat in the backseat of his car and started talking
about me. The man, who was apparently named Mr. Haugen,
put in the CD, the one with the Rubber Ducky song on it
repeatedly, and it got his minions to shut up. Thank goodness
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28
for that. Maybe there is some method to this man’s madness…. But I doubt it.
z
what happened to him?” I couldn’t believe the story ended
like that, just when it was starting to get good.
Yours Truly,
R. Duck
Even later,
Dear journal,
Mr. Haugen let his minions out of the car for a break.
They brought me out with them, unfortunately, and now I
am enjoying watching them run and scream like two year
olds. This man really needs to control his minions… Wait,
why are they coming over here? They’d better leave me
alone, those crazy kids, or I’ll… Hey! Hey, put me down!
Can’t you see I’m trying to write here? Excuse me journal,
I’ll be right back…
Yours Truly,
R. Duck
Even even later,
Dear journal,
Oh, geez. I never thought that they’d stop. Those
kids are relentless in making me miserable. They left me on
top of a car. A CAR. And not a parked car, a MOVING car.
I bet I’ll fall off and die. I’m just scribbling in you nonstop,
because I have nothing else to do. I’ve already learned the
Rubber Ducky song so well I can do a solo a capella rendition of it, so it’s either write or stare blankly down at the
ground and wait to die. I prefer the former. Wait... Is that
a child climbing out the back window of this car? Yes, yes I
do believe it is. Climbing out of a moving car. Bright kid. If
he falls and dies, it’s not my fault.
I’m think I’ll take a nap now. Who knows, maybe
when I wake up, the world will have ended.
Yours Truly,
R. Duck
How late will these entries get?
Dear journal,
Wow, that nap I took was actually semi-relaxing.
The world did not end, however my car ride of doom did.
I am surprisingly still alive, and now I am inside some kid’s
tent. Why am I even here? This kid and his tent mates are
very smelly. I do not know why they feel the need to live
in tents; I personally prefer air conditioning and showers,
not that my opinion matters. The kid who has me now is
apparently called….
He pursed his lips. “Let me show you something
Percy…” Mr. Henrick said as he slowly began to wobble
away, and Pip and I followed.
We walked in silence, passing by all kinds of other
ducks who bowed respectfully to Mr. Henrick. I was so excited I could hardly believe it. My life had suddenly turned
into a wild adventure, and I couldn’t wait for the next plot
twist.
Pip’s ramblings pulled me out of my thoughts.
“For those of you who haven’t figured it out yet, Mr.
Haugen is THE Boss, the capital B one. I hope you’re all
keeping up with the story, and please note that Mr. Haugen
isn’t actually as crazy as R. Duck made him sound. There’s
no need to be scared of him at… Wait… Is someone out
there eating kumquats? ‘Cause I know the smell of kumquats.” I looked up at Pip quizzically but once again got no
explanation.
“He’s talking to the voices.” I jumped at the
sudden deep voice that whispered in my ear, so close I could
feel the duck’s breath. I turned slowly. Another duck stood
inches away from me and walked at the exact same pace that
I did. Only he wasn’t just a duck. He was also a chicken. I’ve
never trusted chickens. They have that evil look about them.
I inched away ever so slightly as I responded.
“Uh… Excuse me?”
“The voices. He says they’re everywhere. He calls
them readers.”
“Who?”
“Your friend there. He’s crazy. They’re his imaginary friends. Like imaginary numbers, only we can’t solve
them.”
I quickened my pace and got as far away from the
crazy chicken as possible.
The rest of the walk was silent. We made our way
through endless shelves, and the farther we went, the fewer
people we saw. I had a sudden feeling of deja vu, remembering the excitement of my original journey to the initiation
shelf.
The three of us finally found ourselves all alone, a
single black door in front of us. Mr. Henrick pulled a key
out of his pocket. “It’s time, Percy.” And he opened the
door.
To Be Continued.
“And that’s where the entries end.” Mr. Henrick
shook his head in dejection. “We now do not know the
whereabouts of the original duck, but he left a legacy for all
Haugenots.”
“So you mean that’s all? And we’ll never know
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The Pianist
Melissa Kim
The man explained that he was about to play a piece relating to A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a piece about
Puck and Oberon. He urged his audience to listen for “the scurrying, mischievous elf ” and “trumpeting,
lecturing Oberon.” I heard a chuckle from my side, and not much later I had a wry grin of my own. If this
man hadn’t been so tall and imposing he surely would have been Puck. His body, or more specifically his
head, jerked directionally, jutted, and cringed into his interestingly lavender collar. The fierce look in his
eye and broad squint of concentration, obscured by his large and thick-rimmed glasses and coupled with
his grim-set mouth, were almost comical. A funny man indeed. Somehow he reminded me of a turtle (and
a fast one at that). His little introductories of his impressions of the music and what each piece was truly
about were irritating to some, but no one could deny that he had fantastic talent. He concluded and went
on about a sad man in a sleigh that would never return home. I immediately questioned the chance that
this specific man was dead or not, but with the continuation of the performance it became clear I would
receive no such confirmation. This time he moved with more grace and I regret to say I do not remember
much of his second piece because I remained sulking with an unsatisfactory frown, stubbornly dwelling on
the aforementioned, interpretive man’s life-or-death sleigh ride. The pianist wiped his face with a folded, white handkerchief, only making my eyes crinkle further with pleasure. His last piece he admitted to
sighing at, granted that the name of the piece was the Italian word for “sigh.” And sigh we did, or did my
neighbor, as I watched the him flow with the same enthusiasm I used to tap into while playing my favorites of the romantic era. Quite the character he was; quite the character.
Piano Man
Rachel McIntyre
Child, where are you going?
The afternoon is bright
There’s much to do and much to see
Before the turn of night.
My son, look up. Come see my face
I’m here forevermore
Come rest your weary head on me
Enter the golden door.
Dear boy, come, stop and tell me
Of all that’s on your mind
I’m here to listen, here to hear
What wonders your eyes find.
My arms are open wide to you
Now that I have you here,
Let me hold you, my joy, my boy
There’s nothing more to fear
My love, what are you feeling?
There’s so many who care
If ever friend or joy you need
Their love is there to share
Let me wipe these tears away
As you see your loved ones weep
They’ll be ok; I’m by their side.
Come, find your ever peace.
My dear son, wipe away that tear
Come see my joy in you!
The music and the mystery
Your search for all that’s true
Piano man, sit down and play
My angel, sing for me.
I’ll show you stars and worlds and things
You’d never think you’d see.
Young man, what are you doing?
Turn ‘round, turn back and see
The beauty of this life. This you!
You’re so precious to me.
Leave your sorrow, leave your pain
For here, they fit in not.
But know my boy, although you’re here
You’ll never be forgot.
But I’ll be with you with ev’ry step
I’ll be with you with every breath
I’ll be with you until the end
I’ll be with you until your –
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Cover by Meghan Leong and Sharon Park
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tkaliterarymagazine@gmail.com
(c) 2013