Two Sentence Horror Story

Suhaas Poka

The cabin isn’t the same as when we had arrived, I can’t remember how we arrived here; the woods are twisted, mangled; as if the world itself is wrong. I don’t remember it looking like this, why do the trees have eyes; red yet translucent maggots crawling in and out of them, a fog so red and thick it could be an ocean: my smiling friends hanging from the branches.

Raghav Manohar

The natural stench of dirt fills my nose as I wake up trapped in a small rectangular box.

Disoriented, I can make out “may god rest his soul,” and my family crying above me.

Zen Watanabe

I heard the faucet dripping again along with creaking, there’s nothing wrong with this, it happens all the time. That was the moment I saw my brother’s headless body hanging from the ceiling, that was when I realized what the creaking was.

Aubriana Fiorini

As I answered the phone, I heard my dad’s hoarse voice. This made my skin crawl since today marks the five year anniversary since I murdered him.

Giuliana Famoso

The police are talking about me, “She’s a case gone cold,” the radio crackles and he turns to me, his navy blue uniform barely visible in the dark basement and his badge glinting in the dim light, “They’ve given up on you… any last words?”

“The Swing” by Grace Betzwieser / “Wait Here” by Elena Hymes

“Wait Here”

Elena Hymes

“The Swing”

Grace Betzwieser

She sits on the icy swing

The air damp

Like her clothes

She listens

To the sound of the rain

Hitting the ground

As the wind softly blows against her face

Back and forth

She swings

Flying freely through the air

And the pouring rain    

A thick breeze blows back

Her wet and tangled hair

So lost in thought

She almost doesn’t notice

A slight squeaking

Just off to the left

She sits frozen

The lonely night slowly fills

As she turns her head

Inch by inch

Ignoring her instincts

And her shaky hands

But once she looks

All that’s left is the swing

Rocking back and forth

And the reminiscence 

Of what was once there.

“Golden Star” by Troy Serao / Untitled by Kathryn Harrington

Untitled

Kathryn Harrington

“Golden Star”

Troy Serao 

It was no secret 

I wasn’t hard hard to please 

Just give me that little star shaped, sparkling, sticker 

No bigger than a push pin yet as sparkly as a disco ball hanging in a forgotten ballroom, 

The namesake STAR something that represents life, distance, freedom, and excellence. 

 They are given so sparingly from your teacher after you answer a question in class, from a friend on a hard day, or from the universe when one appears on your test when you get a 100%. 

They sit there on the wax paper 

ready to be peeled away to be separated from their joy to bring us JOY 

“Summer’s Embrace and Winter’s Chill” by Angelina Wu / “Hopeful View” by Zainab Bibi

“Hopeful View”

Zainab Bibi

“Summer’s Embrace and Winter’s Chill”

Angelina Wu

Summer’s warmth, in the noonday light
Gentle waves, embrace the shore
Sun-kissed days, where laughter rings
Blossoms bloom in vibrant array
In summer’s arms we find delight

Winter’s cold, a silent night
Icy winds where snowflakes soar
Frost nights, where silence stings,
Frozen landscapes in shades of gray
Winter’s touch, a tranquil sight

“Pluto XIII” by Nawaf Kassen / “Lights Camera Action” by Mahimn Dave

“Lights Camera Action”

Mahimn Dave

“Pluto XIII”

Nawaf Kassen

I am a water sign

As tranquil as that sounds

My thoughts never seem to align 

Disconnected from grounds, my mind knows no bounds

I write, draw, read, and bake

but that’s only a piece

because no matter what I make

it’s always the process that brings me peace

I once grasped my identity

Now I’m just lost 

Desperately seeking serenity

I wonder what that will cost

Far

So far from reality

It’s truly bizarre

how I’m patching my life with morality

I was once adamant 

about what I was destined for

Now I’m stagnant

Wanting nothing more

Inure

to things I never thought could endure

but I continue to ensure

that these scenarios will only let me mature

I am whatever the universe makes of me

So much potential wasted 

apathy

manipulated

Christine Curley Memorial Award 2024

Christine Curley Memorial Award 2024

The Christine Curley Memorial Award for Creative Writing has been established by Christine’s parents to be presented annually to the students who display interest and potential in creative writing.

During Christine’s high school years, she showed great promise as a poet, and the hope of her parents is that this award will encourage other students to pursue in their writing the spirit with Christine so beautifully demonstrated in her own.

A faculty committee has chosen

Tehreem fatima

Poettes’ Tale

I am not a poet
But a woman albeit
The earth is my page
Aged by existence
But its blank- nothing
Is untouched but the trees
Seized to write

The way of the world
Hurled me into a whole
Hole of conformation
Molded my cognation to believe
And perceive that the difference
Is an inference between women and girls

Dream and women don’t
Live in fantasies but
Face reality through silent
Understanding manning the being
Seeing but never freeing
The light in my throat
Matches the words I never wrote

To my daughter’s mother
Another letter to explain
That I am not a woman
But a poet peeling a persimmon
To reveal the golden core
Adored by girls around the world
Dare to dream it seems

That if to be a woman is to give
Up the most beautiful something
Than I’d rather have nothing
But my pen and paper
Taper but I am unfazed
And raised by the notion
Of never being a poet for
I am a poette.

interlinked

souls twirling in a dance
on chance- we met
our eyes the keys
unlocking the willow trees- perched

upon the hill- filled
a gap between us grows
apart from galaxies of light
gleaming citrine, mauve, azure- sure

shine upon skin- akin
flames burning blood
rushes through bodies not souls
in the stars- molten gold
hardens to keys

of maple
traveling far far away
to partake in a universal dance
on chance- upon continents
on opposite ends of the same string
interlinked.

“Courageous Echo” By Sana Bargeer / “Braids” By Azhar Alharbi

“Braids”

Azhar Alharbi

“Courageos Echo”

Sana Bargeer

Courageous Echo

In the face of silence,

courage makes its choice to speak.

Reflecting Worth

In the mirror’s truth,

our reflection of worth is our greatest art.

Clarity

Beneath the chaos, 

the stillness of purpose finds its way.

“In a Blink of an Eye” By Elena Hymes / “Those Watercolor Eyes” By Hans Gupta

“Those Watercolor Eyes”

Hans Gupta

“In a Blink of an Eye”

Elena Hymes

  I don’t like to blink, if I blink everything goes away. 

she said ¨In the blink of an eye it’s gone..̈ What if that’s true,

In one blink

In one second 

Everything is gone. 

I tried to stop blinking, to keep the moment, to pause time.

I keep my eyes open. Prying them open with two hands, making them burn hot like fire, my tears unwillingly crawl down my face. 

It’s not enough.

it’s never enough, I always blink and the moment is gone

her love is gone.

I reach and Claw at my eyes, wanting to grab what I once saw

I need to go back to the feeling, bring me back to the moments.

In one blink of an eye, I now see things differently. 

it’s true, she was right it’s all gone in the blink of an eye.