Remembering your Face
Love through the Vision of Hate
Starry Crystals
World of Wonder



Short Story

The Gift of Life
The Bombardment

Starry Crystals

O starry crystalline bodies above
That glow from the heavens so bright
Thee that were born on the dark side of love
Shine and tell me the secrets of night
Glittering jewels so precious in the sky
Cold like ice to the sight and eye
Burning gaseous spheres true be
O starry crystalline bodies above
That flame un-endlessly
Silvery dewdrops onhigh that gleam on
Thee that were born on highest hill tops
Shine on shine on shine on.

Krista  The Lioness
9th Grader
Toutle, Washington
About The Author

Since I was ten years old I have always wanted to become a known poet and author. Over the past years I have steadily worked towards my goal and will continue until I suceed. As a fifteen year old daughter of encouraging and enlightening parents as well as the younger sister to a patient and caring sister I have all the essentials that they could give me to reach my full potential. They and many others are the inspiration for my work, the fuel for my fevered ideas, and the faith that I need to become what I want to be.
Love through the Vision of Hate

They go into a drunken rage and hurt the ones they need;
the ones who care, the ones who'll stay, the one's who'll always heed
the wants and wishes of the drunken one, anything they say
to cook, to clean, do anything if only to live another day.

Their anger's unmatched, their strength is unknown
and guilty am I for I have condoned
the drunk and addicted, I don't understand
what it is like to be under addiction's command.

Even they don't understand, but their troubles will mount
unless they decide to walk a new and different route.
Some will, some won't but most of them will try
to change for the better, in truth or in lies.

For the ones who break free, freedom at last!
They now live their lives with lessons from the past.
The unfortunate, for whom fate's chains hold too tight
are smothered byt their vice, it blocks all from sight.

They go into a drunken rage and hurt the ones they need;
the ones who care, the ones who pray, the ones who must flee
for the sake of their sanity, for the sake of their lives
now the drunken one's alone, leaving fate to decide.

10th Grader
Tilden, Nebraska
About the author of "Love Through the Vision of Hate"
I am a 16 year old female from Nebraska.  I enjoy writing
poetry in my spare time.  I also love little children.
They are the most inspirational little beings you could
ever imagine.  Nothing can stop them.
Remembering your Face

I always thought you'd die at midnight
Underneath a crescent moon
Your eyes reflecting starlight
Instead you died at noon

I always thought your last words would be poetic
Some beautiful tragic
Some weeping verse to challenge Shakespeare
But all you said was good-bye

I thought you'd be happy in Heaven
Instead you haunt my nights
When I imagined you in white robes
And accompanying angels on their flights

In my dreams I want to hear your poetry
But all you do is smile
And you stand alone
And you vanish after a while

Katy, Texas
World of Wonder

The sky is full of wonder,
The clouds of kingdoms lost,
The colors delight the eye,
And all without a cost.

The fields are rich and green,
The flowers love to grow,
As if a beautiful story,
Of what we want to know.

The stream has a lullaby;
Listen and you'll hear,
The music gently playing,
It covers all you fear.

About The Author:

I play the piano and trumpet, enjoy running track, and love to read

                  I never knew that one little "I'm sorry" could mean so
much. I never knew that mere words could change the course of someone's life.  Never would I have realized that one moment in time could set the course for the rest of your life. But I am glad I found out. I'm glad I met that scrawny little kid, and I'm glad I told him how I felt.
I was sitting there in class one day, in eighth grade, when this new kid
came in. He was short and scrawny, with glasses and stringy black hair. He walked up to the teacher and told her, very shyly, that he was new. The teacher pointed to the empty desk next to me. He sat down, glanced at me, and then looked away.
"Hey kid, you new?" I said.
"What?" he asked, obviously startled.
"I asked if you were new."
"Oh sorry, yeah." His braces showed while he talked.
"What's your name?"
"I'm Christine. Where ya from?"
"People actually live there? Wow."
"Yeah," he said and turned back around.  I didn't think he was very nice,
and definitely not the type I'd hang around.
Over the year, I talked to him occasionally, but we were never really
friends. He never ate lunch with anybody, and he never talked to anybody but me.
At the beginning of ninth grade, I wasn't in any classes with him, but I
passed him in the hall. I noticed he was getting taller, but he was still
skinny. I never said anything to him, but I did smile at him once and
One day after school, I was standing around a group of kids who were not the type of people who were known for good deeds. One of them, Jared, noticed Christian standing all by himself, looking very lonely. Jared
beckoned us all to make fun of him. In my head I knew it was wrong.
"Hey, Chris, you know his name. You call him." Jared said.
"Oh, all right." I responded. "Hey, Christian!" I yelled. He looked up at
"Hey, why you standin' there all by yourself?" Jared yelled.
"Ain't ya got any friends?" called another.
"Nah, he ain't got any friends. He's too stupid and nerdy." I said.
"Aren't ya?" I laughed evilly. Then Christian looked up at me with the
saddest puppy dog eyes I had ever seen. My heart sank. I couldn't stand it.
"Uh, I gotta go. My mom's here." I muttered. I ran off, almost crying.
That night, I tossed and turned all night because I couldn't get Christian's
face out of my mind. I don't know what had come over me. I'm not usually the type to hurt people intentionally.
In the weeks that followed, he never met my glances in the hall and
definitely never smiled at me. Every time I saw him, I immediately got
depressed. I never should have said anything that day. I could have made
them stop. I should have.
Soon ninth grade was over, and it was time to leave childish things behind and move on to high school. Over the summer, I had grown a bit taller and much more mature. My father had died from overdosing on heroin, and that made me realize that my life was heading towards the same end. I quit hanging around the people who I had last year, especially after they got into drugs, alcohol, and petty crime. I joined a youth group at church and realized how fulfilling life could be.
On the first day back to school, I was walking into my first period class
when I ran into a tall, muscular guy with brown hair and beautiful deep
brown eyes. "Oh my gosh. I'm, I'm sorry." I stuttered as I blushed.
"Oh, it's all right," his deep voice answered. I quickly walked past him
to hide my embarrassment and I found a seat near the front. I turned around and watched him cross the hall and get a drink from the water fountain.
After the bell rang, my teacher began calling roll. He called my name and then called Christian's. I quickly turned around to see who answered. To my surprise, the one who answered was the guy I had run into earlier. I was dumbfounded. I decided right then to write him a note begging for
forgiveness. Not because he was drop dead gorgeous, but because I knew his forgiveness would make my life complete. I quickly wrote him a note apologizing and telling him exactly how bad I felt. I dropped it
nonchalantly on his desk as I passed by it to go to the pencil sharpener. I
quickly hurried back to my desk after I had sharpened my pencil to a fine
point. About five minutes later, I turned so I could see his reaction. He
had tears in his eyes and was feverishly writing something back. He folded up the piece of paper and dropped it on my desk as he walked to the teacher's desk to ask him a question. I quickly unfolded the paper, my heart pounding. I was expecting him to say something ab!
out me causing him to go to therapy or something horrible like that. It
Yes, I do remember you. Thank you for your apology. You don't realize how much it means to me. I really would like to get to know you better. Will you meet me for lunch?

After class, I yelled out to him. "Hey Christian! Do you still want to
meet for lunch?"
He looked me in the eye and smiled. "Of course. When I invite a lady to
lunch, I mean it." I could have fainted right there.
I met him at lunch and it was the best conversation I had ever had. I
found out that he was in choir, on the varsity baseball team, and an awesome artist. He had gotten contacts over the summer and his braces taken off. He looked nothing like the Christian I had met in eighth grade, but his wonderful personality I am sure was the same.
Over the years at high school, we became close friends. Nothing beyond that, but we were best friends. We ended up going to the same college and became even better friends.
One night, I was in the parking lot of the dorms with my date, and we were standing by his car. We were talking and laughing when he said, "Hey, let's go back to my place."
"Nah," I told him, "that's okay."
"I said, let's go back to my place," my date was beginning to sound angry.
"I said no." My tone was getting firmer.
"I said let's go, and we're going to go whether you like it or not!" He
yelled, and then he slapped me.
"Don't ever slap her." A familiar voice said.
"Christian!" I yelled.
"Why should I listen to you?" My date asked as he turned around to get a better view of Christian.
"Because." My date looked up and saw that Christian was a full six inches taller than he was.
"Goodbye." I glared at my date. "Christian, will you take me home?"
"I sure will, Chris." He answered. We walked off and left my date standing in the parking lot.
"Why did you do that?" I asked softly.
"Because I love you, Christine." I looked up at him, my eyes filled with
"Nobody's ever told me that before."
"Christine, do you love me?"
I thought about the question for a second. I realized my true feelings. "I
do, Christian, I really do."
"Then Christine, will you marry me? I was going to wait until graduation,
but I couldn't."
"I can't think of anybody else I would rather marry than you." He bent
down and gave me the sweetest kiss ever.
The next spring, we married, and I am still in love with him to this day.
I think back and realize that, if I had not apologized, I would have never
have had the fifty most wonderful years that I had with him. Apologies can
really change your life, so never miss an opportunity to tell somebody you
are sorry.

20th Grader
Arlington, Texas
About the author of "Apologies"

Krystal is a 15 year old sophomore. This is her first time to be published.
The Gift of Life

Have you ever wished that you could talk to people without saying a word? I definitely have. I guess it's because I'm deaf and mute. I was born with an underdeveloped set of nerve endings in my ears and premature vocal cords, both which cost me my ability to hear and speak. As a result, I mostly sign, and squeak a little (from what I am told). Sometimes I just lay on my bed thinking if I could just have one day to listen to the sounds of life or just to laugh and talk to my friends; simple things that most people take for granted. However, I got my wish, but it came in a very strange form. So strange you may not even believe me. It all started last year when I turned 16...

The boy was sitting on his bed wishing he could just be normal teenager. He was definitely far from normal. What made him different from all the other kids wasn't the fact that he was deaf and mute, but the fact that he wasn't afraid to be different. He had a charisma which naturally drew people to him. However, it seemed that there was always a barrier between his world and the other teenagers. This barrier made him feel as if he was alone in this world (or universe). Like any other person, the boy had his down days as well. These were the days he sat on his bed angry and frustrated at the world. He wanted to blame someone for all his problems, but he couldn't find a decent scapegoat. However nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. As he was laying on his bed, the boy heard a sound coming from the window. "Hey you! Can you hear me?" A little voice squeaked.
    He couldn't believe it. He could actually hear! His wish came true! But
something seemed odd. "Who is this guy?" he thought to himself.
    "Hey man, I'm going to come in, if that's fine with you?" the voice
said. And suddenly, a little blue alien appeared from the window. It seemed to be about four feet tall, and a bit skinny. It's eyes were enormous looking ovals, resembling two eggs on the top of his head. However, every other feature resembled that of a human. What the hell is this? The boy thought. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He read often about aliens in the hundreds of books he read on them but he could have never guessed an alien would appear before his eyes. "Don't be scared dude. Haven't you seen little blue men before?" The alien said. The boy didn't know how to respond to this alien. The only little blue men he ever saw were the Smurfs.
     "What are Smurfs?" The alien asked. The boy just stared in awe. How could it know what he was thinking? "Well, it's not that hard. I do it
everyday. Nonstop too."
"Ummm..." The boy stood speechless. "What are you?  Where are you from? Why did you come to me? The boy then asked eagerly in his mind."
     "Hey, hey...one at a time! Well, I am Zenagorican from the planet
Zena. I came to you because our minds were linked telepathically. I had to come visit you. Our people come visit often but are strictly forbidden to
have any contact with humans, but I couldn't stop the waves."
    "What waves?" The boy asked. "The waves that you were sending me. When you were laying on your bed wishing there was someone who knew you inner thoughts, a strong telepathic wave took over me. I couldn't withstand the overpowering urge." "So you just came here because I called you?" the boy asked again. "
   "Yes. But I actually came to give you something. A gift. A gift of life."
"What?" The boy said confused. "You see, you are different from
everyone else. You can use the power of your mind and heart. You see and perceive things differently. With your abilities, the things you can achieve is just a matter of time."
    "But I don't want to be different!" The boy exclaimed.
    "You don't get it do you?" the alien snapped. The alien suddenly
reached into heart and pulled out an shiny, white egg.
    "This my friend, is the gift of life. It represents you and the life
you were blessed with. Someday you will get it." With those words, the alien took off. The boy looked at the egg and stared at it for a moment. Just then, the egg started to move. Eureka! He had finally got it...the gift of life.
...now as I look at the little chick, I sometimes wonder if the alien will
ever come back. The good thing is, is that I will never be alone. I know
that now. Oh! I almost forgot. You may be still wondering what the gift of
life is. In case if you haven't found that out yet: The gift of life...is
life itself.

About the author of the Gift of Life. I am a Junior who writes for the
school newspaper. I like to watch movies, and read books, as well as run in my spare time.
The Bombardment

The whistle of the falling mortars were like the scream of death.  When you heard it you knew that the end of your life was coming.  The Germans pounded and pounded at this hill hoping to soften it for a successful attack.  They had tried once but had failed and so the bombardment had begun.  For twelve days the shells had been dropping.
When do you think its coming?  Jack asked.
When do I think whats coming? Simpson replied.
The attack, I want to know when you think the Germans will attack, Jack
The Germans will attack when the Germans stop sending those shells our way, Simpson said grimly.
Well I know that.  Tell me when you think that will happen, Jack ordered.
Another one came down somewhere near us.  The dirt roof shook with the impact.   All of us wondered when they would stop their shelling and come out here so we could get out of these gravelike pits.
You know, I really do think theyre going to keep on with this until we all
rot.  Then they can just move in and take out our withered away bodies,
Porter chuckled as he said this.
You want to know something else Porter? I spoke, I think that youve gone mad.
He only laughed some more at that and lay down trying to get some sleep.  It was futile of him to try.  The sounds of the incessant bombing would allow no one to sleep.
And suddenly it stopped.  The noise had stopped.  First the men around me were astonished that it had actually happened.  Then they began to rush out grabbing their helmets and rifles.  It was about to come.
Simpson helped me bring out the heavy machine gun and place it in the small bunker.   By now hundreds of men had poured out of their dark holes and lined up along the trenches.  We were ready to fight.  Now came the waiting.  Soon the charge would come.  The mortars had failed to destroy the heavy barbed wire that was not fifty feet before us.  It would be another slaughter.
Out of the smoke and fog the battle cries came and soon the gray figures
emerged.  The fire order came and I pulled the trigger.  The steady stream of bullets poured out of the muzzle as Simpson kept on feeding in more.  I cut down the entire line of German soldiers in front of me and more came on.
The day passed away and still we held the trenches.  Not one of the enemy had gotten past the wire.  Few had even reached it.  They were still trying to push forward.  They blitzed towards us stumbling through the dead and dying that littered the muddy ground.  And then the whistles came.  The Germans were firing their mortars.  I was astonished, they were sure to hit more of their own men than ours.
But they would hit some.  I could hear one shell getting louder, closer.  I
tried to duck back into the bunker but I was too late.
You, hey you are you still alive or not? someone was trying to wake me.   Come on soldier I dont think its your time to day yet.
My eyes fluttered open and I saw a friendly face looking at me.  I
recognized the uniform as a sergeants.
Thats it young man, I believe its time you got to a hospital.  Whats
your name?
Johnson sir, Private Henry Johnson, I said as I tried to get up.  A great
pain shot through my leg.
Now I wouldnt try that, your legs broken and your arm and head arent all
that well either, the sergeant said to me.  I looked around to find that I
was in a bunker surrounded by a group of soldiers who were also wounded in some way.
I remember that the Germans had started up with their artillery and that I
was trying to jump back into my own bunker and that one came down very close, I stated.
You didnt make it in I would guess, the sergeant replied.  We found you while patrolling the trenches.  When we were going we found a spot that they hit pretty well.  We looked for identification on the bodies and found you buried under a good bit of dirt and rock.  After we dragged you back in here the fire got heavy again.  Youve been unconscious for some time.  The battle was almost two hours ago.
Did you find anyone else, hoping that some of my friends were alive.
The sergeant replied remorsefully, No son, you were the only one.
Oh, I said thinking about the others, So theyre all dead then.   There
was a moment of silence in the crowded pit.
We can get you to a hospital sometime soon, the fire eases down every so often.   It wont be too much trouble to get you there, a private said.
Theres the supply wagon that comes out here, theyll take you back to a
hospital or something of the sort, another man added.
In a few minutes it was as they said, the rate of fire began to die down and we started out.  Two men helped me keep somewhat on my feet and we made our way to the road.
As I was helped into the wagon I began to think about my friends.  I had
come into this war with some of them and had gone through training with the rest.  I knew all of them well, and they all knew me.  It was strange to
think that they were all gone.  I was the last of my unit.  It would rebuild
and there would be replacements.  Perhaps I would even remain in it.  But one thing was very certain; one day we would silence those guns and those cursed shells would drop no more.

8th Grader
Windham, Ohio
About The Author:
Well most of my friends and teachers tell me I have a talent for writing.
Someone suggested that I have something published.  I hope that anyone who reads this enjoyed it.

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