BRYNN KEUDELL:
Growing Up
When Amy was five years old, they moved to Pine Street, Colorado. Despite not even being able to ride a bike at the time, she remembered leaving their old house. She could recall the sad feeling that had pummeled her stomach at the thought of saying goodbye to the cherry trees that used to sway against her bedroom window. She grew to love Pine Street, though. The brand new house smell, the green grass, the mountains in the distance, and even the icy winters. But what Amy remembered best about moving to Pine Street was meeting Alison—her best friend.
5 Years Old
“It looks pretty nice, doesn’t it, kids?” said her Dad. They were standing in front of 39674 Pine Street, Colorado. The new house. A dark shade of green, with white trim, and a big yard. It was pretty nice, but it wasn’t home.
“It’s all right,” mumbled JJ, the tow-headed blond seven-year-old of the family.
“Come on, let’s go in!” her mom said, her green eyes shining with excitement. Mom loved new things. Amy hesitantly walked up the front steps, clutching Rosy, her stuffed bunny, to her chest. Dad unlocked the door, and they stepped into a bare entrance way. It was spacious, with white walls, and a door off to the side that most likely led to a garage. They kicked off their shoes and began exploring. “This pantry is perfect!” her mom yelled from somewhere in the kitchen.
“I found a secret closet!” JJ shouted from up the stairs.
“Look at this patio!” said her dad happily.
Amy trotted up the stairs with Rosy and looked around. She wandered into a room with big windows and plenty of space. “This should be our room, Rosy,” she told the stuffie. She climbed onto the windowsill and stared out at the neighborhood. Would she have friends here? Mom said she would, but she hadn’t seen anyone yet. She missed Alex and Mia back in Texas. They were probably swimming in the pool or playing ponies in the field.
“Come help unload the car, guys!” Amy grabbed Rosy and ran down the stairs.
“Phew! Halfway done!” said her dad, sitting down. After two hours of unloading the car and moving trucks, they had finished half of the job. Her mom handed out Capri-Suns and water bottles.
“Well, what do you guys think of the house?” she asked, plopping down next to Amy.
“It’s really big, and really empty!” said JJ, showing just how empty it was with his arms.
Mom laughed. “Yes, well, we don’t have anything set up yet, but it won’t be empty forever.”
“Hopefully not,” said her dad, laughing along.
“Amy, want to check out the backyard with me?” asked JJ.
“Sure,” she said.
The backyard was big, large enough for a family of golden retrievers to comfortably play in. It had lots of green grass, a shed, a garden nook, big climbing trees, and a corner that looked just right for a swing set. “Wow!” said JJ, running to the trees. “This is perfect!” He swung himself onto the lowest branch and began his voyage up.
Amy wandered around, looking for other kids. She went to the furthest side and peeked through a crack in the fence. Nobody. Just a yard filled with plants and gardening tools. Amy was about to go grab the soccer ball from the car when she spotted a tucked-away corner of the yard that she hadn’t seen yet. It was filled with large leafy bushes. As Amy was looking, she saw a movement in the bushes. She walked closer, hesitantly approaching the bushes. Just as she thought it had been nothing, she saw it again. This time in the form of a girl, with messy brown hair and a bright pink t-shirt. “Hi! I’m Alison! But you can call me Ali. Who are you?” Alison said with a grin stretching across her face, and her dimples popping out.
“Oh, uh, I’m Amy,” Amy said shyly. Mom had said she would make friends, but she hadn’t expected them to crawl out of the bushes.
“Want to be friends?” Alison asked her. “My favorite color is yellow, I hate mushrooms, pasta, broccoli, brussels sprouts, and pickles, and I have two sisters and one brother.”
“Sure, I’ll be your friend,” Amy said. She felt happy that Alison seemed to like her.
“Oh, and I spell my name A-L-I-S-O-N,” Alison told her.
“I spell mine A-M-Y,” said Amy proudly, glad Dad had taught her last week.
“We can be best friends!” cried Alison. And that was how Amy met her best friend.
8 Years Old
“Ah! Don’t get us wet!!” the girls screamed. It was the summer after second grade, and Amy and her family had adjusted to the new house and school. Amy had discovered other friends, basketball, and that jumping out of trees to try and fly like a bird doesn’t work well. But she had gotten out of the cast a week ago, and it was peak summertime. Popsicles and swimming every day, playing with friends, going to the library, lakes, staying up late, and roasting marshmallows under the stars. Amy and Alison had become BFFs and even had matching bead bracelets to prove it.
“Whoo hoo!” JJ and his friends whooped, running after the girls with squirt guns. They shrieked and yelled as the girls ran for their lives from the cold water.
“Quick, get the water balloons!” Ali said to Amy. They ran to the backyard to grab the balloons from the tub.
“We are gonna get you now!” Amy said as they pelted the boys with blue water balloons.
“Ah!” the boys yelled and took off running.
“We sure scared them off,” Ali said, laughing.
“Yeah, we did. High five!” Amy said with a smile. Then she caught sight of a boy walking towards them. “Hey, look, it’s Tom. I bet he wants to play four-square. Want to play?” she asked Alison.
“Oh, um, I gotta go, see ya later,” Alison told her. She skipped off before Amy could say anything. Amy just shrugged. She had kinda noticed over time how Alison never really hung out with any of the other neighbor kids. Alison usually only came around when it was just her and Amy.
“C’mon, Amy, let’s play!” Tom said, having reached her. “Ok, sure,” Amy said, grabbing the rubber playground ball.
“Did you have a good day, kids?” asked Dad, dishing up some rice. It was later that night, and the whole family was sitting down together for dinner.
“It was awesome! Nathan and I went over to James’ treehouse, and we built a pulley system so we can get Everett up there with us!” JJ said, shoveling beans into his mouth. He was referring to the newest addition to the family, Everett, the chocolate lab that he had begged for for his tenth birthday.
“You’re being careful, right, JJ? I’m not sure Everett would want to be in that tree house,” Mom told him.
“Well, Alison and I made a fairy house out of leaves, and then the other kids had a four-square tournament. But I got second place. Tom won it all.” Amy told them happily, digging into her rice. She missed the condescending look that her parents gave each other over her comment.
“Well, your mom and I cleaned out the garage, so it sounds like we all met our goals for the day,” Dad said.
10 Years Old
“This is dirty too,” Alison said, tossing the sweatshirt into the laundry bin. It was fourth-grade winter break, and Amy and Alison were cleaning Amy’s messy room. A lot had happened in two years. Amy had made new friends, realized boys have cooties, and found a passion for baking. As for Alison, they had stayed BFFs, but it was hard since they went to different schools.
“Ok, the closet part is done!” Amy said, hanging up the last t-shirt.
“I’ll make the bed,” Alison volunteered. After a few minutes of cleaning, Amy’s mom walked in.
“Hey, good job here. Do you want some lemonade, Amy? Freshly squeezed lemons from the Farmer’s Market,” she told her.
“Mom! Don’t forget Alison!” Amy said indignantly.
“Right, of course. Would you like some, Alison?” Mom said with a smile.
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll be right back then.” Her mom left, and the girls kept cleaning.
“We should make cookies!” Amy cried. The girls had finished cleaning the bedroom and were trying to think of things to do.
“Do you think your mom will let us use the kitchen?” Alison asked, remembering last time and the accident now known as the Great Explosion.
“Oh, sure. I cleaned my room so she will be in a good mood,” Amy said with confidence. The girls headed downstairs. Just as they were pulling out the chocolate chips, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Amy shouted. She pulled open the door to reveal Tom, Sophia, Jackson, and Mia.
“Can you play?” they said together.
“Um, I’ll check,” Amy turned to ask Alison what to do, but couldn’t see her from where she was standing. “I guess so. What are you going to play?” she asked them.
“Kickball! Or wiffleball. Or both.” “I wanted to play in the field.” “We should hide and seek,” they started arguing on the porch over which idea to do first.
“Ok, I’ll get my shoes and come out,” Amy told them. She shut the door and went back to the kitchen, not noticing that Alison was gone. Amy grabbed her shoes and headed out. A little while later, Amy had just come inside to warm up from the cold when she spotted the left-out bag of chocolate chips from when she was going to make cookies. It reminded her of how she and Alison were going to make cookies. Where was Alison? Busy? She had kinda just vanished earlier, and had never said goodbye. Amy and Alison had been besties ever since meeting in the bushes when the family first moved in. But through those six years they had known each other, Amy had noticed some strange things. 1. Alison rarely hung out with the other neighborhood kids. Even though she lived across the street. 2. She had a weird habit of randomly disappearing. One moment she was there, the next she was gone. 3. The rest of the family never talked about Alison or acted like she was there. Amy was constantly reminding them. All these things had been happening for a long time, and Amy had gotten used to it. All she knew was that Alison was always there when she was lonely, tired, needed a friend, or just wanted to talk. But sometimes Amy couldn’t help but wonder where Alison was, and why she had left.
12 Years Old
“Ok. Notebooks, computer, pencils, markers, eraser, pencil pouch, locker decorations, binder, pens, and extra paper,” Amy said, zipping up the bag. It was the night before the first day of sixth grade, and Amy was anxiously looking forward to her first day of middle school. Based on what JJ had told her, sixth grade was a big step up from fifth, but Amy was ready. She had matured significantly recently and had even started babysitting some of the younger neighborhood kids. “Oh! I’m forgetting PE clothes!” she exclaimed, checking her list. She ran to her closet to grab some, just as a familiar voice said,
“How’s the packing going?” Amy spun around, clutching her gym shorts, as Alison stood in the doorway of her bedroom.
“Oh, Hi! It’s going pretty well, but I’m afraid I’m forgetting something. Nice shirt by the way,” she replied. Alison had also changed over the years. Instead of the messy five-year-old with stains on her clothes, Alison had grown out her rich brown hair and had taken to stealing her sister’s shirts. And her favorite color is purple now.
“Are you ready for middle school?” Amy asked her.
“Yeah. I wish we went to the same school, though,” Alison said, plopping down on the bed.
“Me too. We’ll see each other on the weekends, though I guess,” Amy said sadly.
“I guess. You won’t be too busy to see me?” Alison asked her.
“Of course not!” Amy said with a laugh. “Never too busy.”
“That was a crazy week, huh, kids?” Mom asked them on a tired Friday evening. The kids had just finished their first week of the school year and were exhausted. The first couple of weeks were usually chaotic, and they were all feeling it. Amy had enjoyed her schedule and the new building and had spent time with her friends.
“It was fun,” JJ said, chewing on his pizza. Amy nodded in agreement.
Later that night, lying in bed, she remembered something. Alison. Where was she? Usually, she came over at least three times a week, but Amy hadn’t seen her at all recently. She sat up in bed. Amy got out of bed and crept to the top of the stairs to see if her parents were still awake downstairs. They were. She could hear the movie playing. Amy walked down the stairs into the living room.
“Hey, Mom and Dad?” she asked them. “ Can I talk to you about something?” Her dad turned off the TV.
“Of course, sweetie. What’s on your mind?” he asked her.
“Well, you know my friend Alison?” Amy said.
Her parents exchanged a look. “Sweetheart, I think it’s time we talk to you about this.” Mom said. Amy looked back and forth between them, confused. What were they referring to?
“Honey, Alison isn’t real, you know that, right?” her Dad said gently. Amy stood there, shellshocked. She knew what they were saying and knew they were right, but didn’t want to believe them. In a part of her mind, Amy had always known that Alison wasn’t real; she was just an imaginary friend, but she hadn’t ever listened to that part of her brain. Whenever Amy needed a friend or felt lonely, like when they moved, Alison would always be there. But now that Amy was getting older, she didn’t need Alison as much, and it was getting harder to have an imaginary friend when she had real ones.
“Um, yeah, I guess I do know that. She’s just an imaginary friend,” Amy said with sadness, looking at her parents. “She feels real,” Amy said goodnight to her parents and headed back to bed. But she didn’t go to sleep for a long time after that. She just lay and cried in her bed, because she was growing up, but more so because she had lost her friend.
14 Years Old
Amy was sitting outside on her front porch when she remembered. She had been scrolling through her phone when she glanced up and saw Carson, the four-year-old neighbor boy, full of joy, playing with sticks in his front yard. It looked like he was building a little house for them. Amy had an immediate flashback to when she and “Alison” used to make houses for the fairies. That was back when fairies and Alison were as real as cereal in the morning, or no school on Saturdays. Amy felt lost in her memory as she recalled all the fun times they had had together. It made her sad that she had grown up and could never go back.
Amy turned her head just as someone appeared in her peripheral vision. “Hi Amy!” Alison was standing on the sidewalk, smiling up at her.
“Alison? Hi!” They both stared at each other for a second. “I didn’t think I would see you again,” Amy told her.
“Well, you know I’ll come back if you really want to see me again. I can’t stay long anymore, though,” Alison said with a sigh.
“You were a good friend. I miss you.” Amy said.
“It’s ok, it’s time for you to grow up and move on to your adult life. I’ll come back if you need me,” Alison said.
“Ok, bye,” Amy said. The girls smiled and waved as Alison faded away like she had never even been standing on the sidewalk.
“Amy! Dishes are waiting for you inside!” Her dad called from inside.
“Ok, coming!” she yelled back. She looked back at where Alison had been standing just a second before and closed the door behind her, not knowing that it was similar to closing the door of childhood.
The End
ZOEY MCCLENDON:
The Mouse
Squeak was always the last in his litter. 7 other siblings, 4 boys and 3 girls, yet he was always the smallest. His siblings would bully him all the time and acted like they were better than him. Even his mother wouldn’t help him when she noticed what was happening. Feeding time was especially the worst because all his siblings would run to get food, leaving almost nothing for little Squeak, which made it even harder for him to get big. All his siblings grew much faster than him, opened their eyes first, began to run around before he walked, and were covered in fur long before Squeak was.
By the time all of Squeak’s siblings were old enough to leave the nest and explore, they immediately did, and now Squeak was alone with his mom. Despite the fact his mom clearly wanted the nest to herself, she didn’t seem to mind his company too much. She also didn’t often bring back a lot of food most days, probably because she was hoping she could go home one day and Squeak would be gone. It was a pretty nice life, but it was also short-lived.
Once Squeak was just as big as his siblings were when they left, he got kicked out. Squeak was hesitant and pushed back but his mother would not stop pushing, and eventually she got him out. The outside world was terrifying. Right as he got outside he thought he had become blind, but it only took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light. Once his eyes had adjusted, Squeak realized he had to figure out how to get food. Although he had seen his mother get food before, it was so long ago he could barely remember any of it, except for one thing. Nearby the den, Squeak remembers flowers. There were hundreds and that means lots of pollen. So, using his nose to sniff the way, Squeak ventured towards the smell of pollen, and eventually reached a flower.
This flower was a lot taller than the rest, but it was a bright yellow color that mesmerized Squeak. Plus, the smell of pollen was extra strong at this flower. Squeak began climbing the flower, which was difficult. He tried to climb but just kept slipping and falling, but he would not give up. It took a while but eventually Squeak figured out he needed to use his small claws to dig in the flower and climb. This realization made climbing the flower much easier, but still difficult. Squeak started getting pretty high up the stem when out of nowhere, it began to tilt, leaving Squeak dangling by his two front paws. Now was the real danger, he would fall to the ground eventually unless he figured something out.
Losing his grip, Squeak thought this was it. He would fall to the ground and never reach his pollen, but then he realized something, he had a tail! Squeak quickly wrapped his tail around the stem, and used it to pull himself up. One by one, he got all his paws back on the stem, and began to climb again using his tail to keep him upright. At the top of the stem it took a little thinking, but Squeak found an opening into the flower and right as he entered the flower popped back up. He had finally made it! The pollen smelled so much stronger and the moment Squeak could he dug right in! After a long while of snacking, Squeak had gotten full and tired, so with nowhere else to go he snuggled up in the flower, pulling it over him like a blanket, and fell asleep.
It had become quite late, and a soft breeze had pushed the flower, waking poor Squeak up. Confused, he looked around but could not find any source of the movement. His whiskers were covered in all the pollen from the flower, and his fur was ruffled from his nap, but Squeak was not going to leave now. The flower had only gotten more soft, and warm, so he curled up in a ball once more, and fell asleep.
ACE SANGSTER:
Disclaimer!
Please read before reading the story or providing commentary.
This short story has some dark implications and could be triggering. This story may be confusing because it is supposed to be solved over time and this is just one installation of the story so it may not be to your liking due to how unconventional it is in its story telling. This includes codes, ciphers, hidden links, hidden text, etc. Some of these links may lead to new, darker content not appropriate for this school’s context..
In the second half there is a lot of text copied over from the first half then purposely censored for a stylistic choice and a creative way of telling a message. There are some creative ways to read redacted messages like that; if you use any of these ways, it’s very likely you will find some content that I couldn’t completely get rid of due to the nature of the second half.
This is best read in light mode and formatted similarly to desktop. This story was created for discussion, analization, fan interaction, and solving –do indulge if you want to.
Enjoy!
♡♡♡♡♡
My name does not matter for the purpose of this article nor does anything else about my identity, I will not share information about myself nor others that are close to me.
The purpose of this article is to inform others of specific happenings I have seen and investigated my entire life, this will include as much info as I could gather in my years investigating this case. What you choose to do about this information is not my business but I hope you see this as a warning, not an instruction manual. This is the wolfsbane project and investigations.
-writer. log #1PAB001.001
PRTP. A BT. 001 EXP. 001
90 percent of people have what is called a dere, some sort of power, it’s usually genetic. In my life I have found a girl who has “golden blood” as to put it, I will not be sharing her name but I will be calling her Teena Totin for the ease of it. As I mentioned before, Teena has golden blood, her blood is a distinct golden color and it can heal people, though she can’t heal herself. She has gone through a lot in her life and in my research i’ve been unable to find more than a handful of legal documents for her, and I don’t think she has an actual legal name, the only one I could find is nottelling,haha but she just came up with that one herself.
Though, through a lot of trouble I managed to track down her biological parents, I will refer to them as Mrs. Totin and Mr. Totin for now, although Mr. and Mrs. Totin have never been married, to each other at least. I don’t believe Mr. Totin even knows of the existence of Teena Totin since once Mrs. totin gave birth she promptly abandoned Teena only for teena to be s*** *** * *********** *********** * *** ***** *********** * ** *** *** ********** *** *** ****** *** ************ ********** ********* *
She was supposed to become a soldier, I hear she’s still a soldier.
-writer. Log #6
It gets worse with every source I find. My father is worried about me, rightfully so. I make so much progress everyday, getting closer and closer to knowing what happened to these kids and my family, and where they are now after everything, but I lose hope every day, especially seeing how I turned out. Sometimes when you care for anything at all you get dragged across the ground like a heavy bag of meat.
The world has hurt people. So I will hurt the world.
-writer. Log #12
WANTED
Height: 5’8
Eye: blue
Hair: ginger, wavy
Estimated age: 50-60
Gender: male(?)
Dere: controlled hallucination gas
Crimes: terrorism, trespassing, illegal use of dere, assault, vandalism,
-002
I found a kid, she reminds me of myself. She’s probably only 12 or so but she makes my day better every time I see her, but sometimes she says things that reminds me of everything she’s gone through.
Human nature is to hurt others; I’ve learnt that lesson many times in my life, and I’ll teach you that lessonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
******** *** ** *** ** * *** * * *** ** * *** * ** ** *** * ** ** ***** *** ** * * * ************ ***** ******* ** ***** * ******* **
rew up with a gang of criminals. They weren’t necessarily dangerous, just very, very desperate, and I happened to be in a desperate situation t
er legal name is Lisa Lowes, I believe her mother was most likely a casualty of training the kids. She’s a brutal and cruel child, she’s hurt someone just because that’s what she was told to do. disgusting. I heard in a fight that Lisa goes by Hakuda now, it makes sense with her skills, the way she fights and the way she uses her dere. She is a danger to me and my family, I will stop heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Government laboratory
burnt down!
One of the biggest government laboratories, sunflower lab-works,
Recently burnt down, police have found only 3 casualties that they
have yet to identify, but all of which were just children!
A group of known past criminals were found near the scene
though only a handful were actually arrested and most of them were
trying to help. Is it actually ‘just an accident’ or is this the work of
Graminera?! Killing our children who deserve to be protected from
War? Two of the casualties were found clutching each other in the
burning lab, is that how you want your children to die? Sunflower
lab-works promises to protect your kids from war, donate and they
can rebuild the burnt laboratory and keep working to protect your
beloved children from the war against those nasty Gramineras!
*****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
* weamicge ellvu, *
* rva ofjviox keimxgk, *
* cct x njcxqz mqogplhq. *
* weamicge ellvu, *
* rva ofjviox keimxgk, *
* cct x njcxqz mqogplhq. *
* weamicge ellvu, *
* rva ofjviox keimxgk, *
* cct x njcxqz mqogplhq. *
****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
***************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
My name does not matter for the purpose of this article nor does anything else about my identity, I will not share information about myself nor others that are close to me.
The purpose of this article is to inform others of specific happenings I have seen and investigated my entire life, this will include as much info as I could gather in my years investigating this case. What you choose to do about this information is not my business but I hope you see this as a warning, not an instruction manual. This is the wolfsbane project and investigations.
-writer. log #1
90 percent of people have what is called a dere, some sort of power, it’s usually genetic. In my research I have found a girl who has “golden blood” as to put it, I will not be sharing her name but I will be calling her Teena Totin for the ease of it. As I mentioned before, Teena has golden blood, her blood is a distinct golden color and it can heal people, though she can’t heal herself. She has gone through a lot in her life and in my research i’ve been unable to find more than a handful of legal documents for her, and I don’t think she has an actual legal name, the only one I could find is nottelling,haha but she just came up with that one herself.
Though, through a lot of trouble I managed to track down her biological parents, I will refer to them as Mrs. totin and Mr. totin for now, although mr. and mrs. Totin have never been married, to each other at least, my best guess from my information is that Mrs. Totin cheated on her own husband with the foreigner that was mr. Totin and she got pregnant with Teena, she promptly abandoned Teena only for teena to be s*** *** * *********** *********** * *** ***** *********** * ** *** *** ********** *** *** ****** *** ************ ********** ********* *
She was supposed to become a soldier, I hear she’s still a soldier.
-writer. Log #6
It gets worse with every source I find. My father is worried about me, rightfully so. I make so much progress everyday, getting closer and closer to knowing what happened to these kids and where they are now after everything, but I lose hope every day, especially seeing how I turned out. Sometimes when you care for anything at all you get dragged across the ground like a heavy bag of meat.
The world has hurt people. So I will hurt the world.
-writer. Log #12
WANTED
Height: 5’8
Eye: blue
Hair: ginger, wavy
Estimated age: 50-60
Gender: male(?)
Dere: controlled hallucination gas
Crimes: terrorism, trespassing, illegal use of dere, assault, vandalism,
-002
I found a kid, she reminds me of myself. She’s probably only 12 or so but she makes my day better every time I see her, but sometimes she says things that reminds me of everything she’s gone through.
Human nature is to hurt others; I’ve learnt that lesson many times in my life, and I’ll teach you that lessonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
rew up with a gang of criminals. They weren’t necessarily dangerous, just very, very desperate, and I happened to be in a desperate situation t
er legal name is Lisa Lowes, I believe her mother was most likely a casualty of training the kids. I heard it was her own daughter, Lisa that ended up killing her. She’s a brutal and cruel child, killing someone just because that’s what you were told to do? disgusting. I heard in a fight that Lisa goes by hakuda now, it makes sense with her skills, the way she fights and the way she uses her dere. She is a danger to me and my family, I will stop heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Government laboratory
burnt down!
One of the biggest government laboratories, sunflower lab-works,
Recently burnt down, police have found only 3 casualties that they
have yet to identify, but all of which were just children!
A group of known past criminals were found near the scene
though only a handful were actually arrested and most of them were
trying to help. Is it actually ‘just an accident’ or is this the work of
Harrinera?! Killing our children who deserve to be protected from
war? Two of the casualties were found clutching each other in the
burning lab, is that how you want your children to die? Sunflower
lab-works promises to protect your kids from war, donate and they
can rebuild the burnt laboratory and keep working to protect your
beloved children from the war against those nasty Harrineras!
My name does not matter for the purpose of this article.
But it is important, and I’m proud of it.
Written by Ace Sangster
♡♡♡♡♡
Citations:
Sangster, ace. “Wolfsbane project. exp. 004 and exp. 003” youtube, 9 sep. 2025 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onrzPpLJyRA
Thank you for finishing chapter 1
mfuud xtqansl!
EMILY SMITH:
The Long Road Home
The wind picked up as Charlotte and Liam left the Halloween party, their laughter echoing down the empty street. Charlotte’s witch hat was crooked from dancing, and Liam’s vampire cape trailed behind him as he unlocked his old Honda. “That storm’s coming in fact,” Liam said, glancing at the sky. I twas already dark purple and black, clouds swirling around.
“Good thing we left early,” Charlotte replied, tossing her candy bag into the car. “I don’t want to end up in a horror movie.” They both laughed, but it was a nervous kind of laugh, as if they didn’t want to jinx it.
They pulled onto the street, where the streetlights glowed orange through the fog. Rain started to hit the windshield, first softly, until it was pouring on the roof of the car. “The wipers can barely keep up,” Liam said, looking out.
Charlotte leaned forward, “Is it just me, or is there no one else out here?” The road was empty and slick, stretching ahead. Trees on both sides bent in the wind, their branches reaching upward. Thunder crashed above them.
The car shook, then sputtered. Charlotte glanced at Liam. “Please tell me that was just thunder.”
“Nope, I don’t think so,” he said, sounding tense. The car coughed again. The dashboard lights flickered, and the engine died. They rolled to a stop on the side of the road, surrounded by darkness.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Charlotte dug for her phone. No signal.
“Same here,” Liam said, showing his own phone. He looked around. “I think I saw a gas station a few miles back. Or maybe there’s one ahead?”
“We didn’t pass one on the way to the party.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s ahead. I remember that creepy billboard with the smiling kid holding a soda,” Charlotte sighed. “You’re lucky I trust you.”
They got out of the car, the rain soaking their costumes at once. Lightning flashed above them, brightening up the road and trees and throwing frightening shadows across the ground. As they started walking, Charlotte had her eyes turned around. “I hate this. This is how horror movies start.”
“Correction,” Liam replied. “This is how the second act of horror movies starts. The broken-down car is the first act.”
“Comforting,” she contributed sarcastically. Another flash of lightning lit up the road ahead — and something shifted on the edge of the forest. Charlotte stopped.
“Did you see that? ” Liam turned.
“See what?”
“There was something. Right over—” she pointed. Nothing was there now. Just the trees.
“You’re jumpy.”
“I’m smart,” she corrected. “Big difference.”
They picked up their pace. Through the heavy rain, they spotted a dim neon light in the distance. It flickered, red and green, just enough to show the outline of a gas station. “Yes! Over There! ” Liam shouted. They ran, shoes splashing through puddles, hearts racing. The lights above the gas pumps buzzed and flickered as they made their way to the empty station. The building looked abandoned, except for a single thing in the window.
“Do we… go inside?” Charlotte asked.
Before Liam could answer, the door creaked open slowly. A dark figure stood in the doorway. Neither of them moved. The figure raised a hand and asked, “You kids need some help?”
Charlotte gasped, “Definitely horror movie.”
Liam managed to smile, but very weakly. “Sure, but maybe the kind where the good guy gets to do some goo.d” They went inside. The storm raging behind them, the road outside disappearing into darkness. The door closed, and the neon lights flickered again.
Inside the gas station, it was warmer than expected. In fact, it felt too warm, considering how cold and wet they had been just a few seconds ago. The man behind the counter looked about sixty, maybe older, dressed in a flannel shirt and an old trucker hat. He smiled, something about it seemed off, as if he had practiced it too many times in the mirror. “You folks broke down?” he asked, already reaching for an ancient-looking phone behind the register.
“Yeah,” Liam said, glancing around.“The car died a few miles back. Just stopped.”
The man nodded slowly. “Happens a lot out here.”
Charlotte wrung out her sleeves. “Must be a bad stretch of road.”
“Maybe,” the man replied, dialing a number. He never brought the receiver to his ear, just let it ring. Jenna looked at the shelves. Dust covered everything, but there were no footprints. No tire tracks outside.
A calendar on the wall read October 1997. Charlotte whispered to Liam, “This place looks like it hasn’t been touched in years.” Before Liam could reply, the man spoke again.
“Tow truck’s on its way. Shouldn’t be too long.” They nodded, said thanks, and sat down on two cracked plastic chairs near the window. The rain poured harder, drumming against the glass, and lightning flashed. For a second, in the reflection, Charlotte thought she saw someone else in the store behind them, a shadowy figure near the snack aisle. Charlotte turned, her heart racing, but nothing was there.
An hour passed, no tow truck or cars on the road. The man behind the counter hadn’t moved once. Charlotte stood up and said, “Hey, do you know how much longer…?” But the man was gone. Not behind the counter. Not anywhere. The phone still hung off the hook, gently swinging. Outside, Charlotte and Liam’s footprints in the mud? Gone. Just wet, untouched ground. Liam looked at Charlotte and said, “Okay. Now it feels like a horror movie.” They stepped outside into the storm, but the gas station seemed a lot quieter. Like it had never been there at all.
The rain had slowed to a mist, but the clouds were still low and heavy, and thunder growled in the distance. Charlotte and Liam stood in silence, staring at the gas station. It looked… different now. The lights that had glowed neon red and green were off, the windows were dark, and the paint was peeling. There was no sign of the man and the tow truck. Just the hiss of wind through the trees. “I swear it didn’t look like this before,” Liam said.
Charlotte swallowed and said, “It didn’t.”
They slowly walked back to the door, stepping carefully through the mud. But when Liam reached for the handle, it crumbled in his hand. Inside was darkness, dust, cobwebs, and rotting shelves. The chair Charlotte and Liam had been sitting in was there, but it was broken, lying on the ground as if it had collapsed years ago. On the wall, the calendar still read October 1997, but the page was yellowish, curling at the edges. Underneath, an unclear photo was tacked to the corkboard, a faded newspaper. Charlotte squinted, brushing dust away.
“LOCAL TEENS FOUND DEAD NEAR OLD ROUTE 9 GAS STATION — Halloween Night Tragedy.”
The victims were reportedly walking for help after their vehicle broke down during a storm. The gas station, abandoned for years, was believed to be the last place they were seen.
Charlotte’s hand trembled. “Liam…” He was already reading over her shoulder. His face had gone pale.
“That can’t be real. That can’t be about us.”
“But… It’s the same road and the same storm.”
“But we’re not dead,” Liam said firmly, but his voice cracked. Suddenly, the lights in the ceiling blinked, just once. A loud, electric pop, then silence again.
Charlotte turned toward the door and said, “We need to leave.” They backed out slowly; the gas station seemed to breathe behind them.
As they made their way back to the road, the fog thickened and curled around their feet. Then headlights appeared far ahead of them, cutting through the mist and fog. A tow truck pulled up beside them, and the driver rolled down his window. “Y’all been out here long?” he asked. Charlotte glanced behind them. The gas station was gone. Only trees and shadows remained.
“We… yeah, maybe a bit too long,” Charlotte said.
They climbed into the truck in silence. As it rumbled down the highway, Liam leaned close to Charlotte and said, “You saw it too, right? That article?”
Charlotte nodded. “I don’t think we were meant to stop there.” Liam didn’t ask what she meant by that. Neither of them looked back. Far down the road, under a sky heavy with storm clouds, the old gas station seemed to flicker back to life, for just a moment.
Like it always did. On Halloween night.
After about twenty minutes of being in the tow truck, I felt a light push. Then I opened up my eyes slightly to see a very bright ceiling light shining in them. I shut my eyes, but I heard a voice say, “Charlotte…” I felt a nudge. “Charlotte, wakey wakey,” I felt another, but slightly harder nudge. “CHARLOTTE.”
I was finally awake enough to connect who was saying this to me. “You just interrupted my sleep and my dream,” I said. “Oh well, I’m sure you’ll have another dream sometime. We need to hurry so we can make it to the Halloween party and hopefully the storm doesn’t start earlier than it’s supposed to.”
Before we walk into the Halloween party, I say, “The dream I just had was about where Liam and I leave a Halloween party early so we don’t get caught in a storm. Then, on the way back home, our car breaks down, and we walk to a terrifying, abandoned-looking gas station that we passed on the way. Then, when we make it there, a creepy man behind the counter calls for a tow truck but never picks up the phone.”
“I remember having that dream a few days ago. Maybe we shouldn’t leave the Halloween party early, especially since there’s going to be a storm tonight,” Liam said. “I think that that’s a great idea,” I then said.
After the storm stopped, we drove home and watched the news before we went to bed. On the news, the reporter says, “This is the fourth Halloween tragedy that has happened. Two more local teens found dead near Old Route 9 Gast Station.
LIL ZUBER:
Alone
There was what looked like a small, nice house with white paint on the outside and a wrap-around porch, where someone would read a book in the morning and set the jar of sun tea to get heated up in the afternoon, where a family would live and have family dinners in the dining room, and play card games on the coffee table, and it was that type of house. The paint chipped a little on the door frame from people kicking the snow off their boots in the winter and where the dog had scratched to let him in. Avery was a sophomore in high school, 15 years old, and a bit smart for her class of 78 kids. She walked down the sidewalk to her house, the one she had seen earlier at the end of the street where the bus had dropped her off.
She was just walking up the little stone pathway to the front door when it flung open, and her little brother Jack came running out with their rottweiler Thor trailing closely behind. “AVERY! Guess what, Mom made cookies for your bake sale tomorrow at school, and she said I can have two of them after dinner tonight!!!”
“You’d better save some for me!” Avery exclaimed as she dropped her backpack on the porch and chased her brother around the yard with their dog jumping and running along with them. After a while, her Mom came out to sit on the porch with her book, like she always does when she waits for dinner to finish cooking in the oven. Ava walked back to the porch with Jack still running around the yard, throwing Thor’s stuffed squirrel.
“How was your day honey?” Avery’s Mom, Beth, asked her as she walked up the steps of the porch and grabbed her backpack she had dropped there earlier. Her mom was a little above average in height, probably 5’6, she had green eyes with blond hair and freckles, and her mom said all the time that she was one of the prettiest girls in her high school class. She wasn’t wrong about this; she had the yearbooks to prove it.
“School was okay, I guess. We had a very long science test/lab today, followed by an even longer Powerpoint presentation in history class that we had to take notes on.”
Her mom smiled slightly at her enough to see her teeth and then responded.
“Well, at least you had something to do all day, honey. The office was so slow today. There were probably three patients that came in today, not including me, Dr. Fred, and Molly.” My mom is a nurse at an ER in Helena, the biggest city near us. We live in the city of Clancy, Montana.
“That sounds really boring,” Avery said as she walked to the front door with her backpack slung over her shoulder.
“Would you please pull the Tater-tot casserole out of the oven when you get inside?” her mom asked.
“Yes, mom!” Avery loudly said over her shoulder as she organized her things on the bench by the door and went to the kitchen.
The kitchen was a muted blue-gray color with white/gray cabinets and the classic white and black marble island counter in the middle, with a big, almost U-shaped border of matching white marble countertop for the counters around it. Avery walked over to the oven and grabbed a toothpick from the little mason jar on the counter next to it. She opened the oven a big enough size to let some of the hot air out, but kept most of it still in there. She had learned this from her grandma, who had moved to Florida a few years ago. She said the cold was just too much for her old bones now, but it’s okay because now we get to go to Disney World with her when we visit. She stuck her arm in careful, not to touch the sides of the oven or the casserole pan, and poked the toothpick down into the middle of the casserole. “Clean,” Avery mumbled to herself as she pulled the toothpick out and set it on the counter. She opened the drawer next to the oven and picked out a set of oven mitts. She opened the oven wider and pulled out the casserole, setting it on the stovetop to cool before dinner.
Then she grabbed two of the pumpkin spice cookies her mom had made that were sitting on the counter for the family, walked over to the entry hall, grabbed her backpack, and headed up the L-shaped staircase upstairs to her room. Her room was the second biggest, only to her parents’ room. Her room had white/gray walls with white trim around her closet and around her two windows in the corner of her room overlooking the driveway. She had the newest LED lights hanging up around the top crease of her walls. She always used those instead of her real lights; they made her room feel more like her, forever changing with just a click of a button or a steady color for as long as you want it. She had a regular-sized white door in her room that led to a bathroom all to herself, which her parents had given in and added when she started high school. She had argued that for personal reasons she would need one, so the 5-year-old named Jack wasn’t going through all of her stuff and asking what it was all the time. She kept her room mostly neat except for the few pieces of clothes that had missed her laundry basket and the papers on her desk.
Avery walked into her room and tossed her backpack on the bed, one of the cookies in her hand already gone, the other uneaten yet. She then walked over to her windows and opened them both as much as they could go. She loved the smell of the rain, and it had just started to sprinkle. Avery then walked back over to her bed, got her homework out of her bag, and walked over to her desk. About 20 minutes went by, then Avery said, “All I had today was math” as she checked off her mental list of things to do tonight. Her basketball practice had been cancelled due to her coach being sick and her assistant coach being out of town, so it was one of those rare nights off from sports.
Ava had just put everything back in her backpack when her mom yelled up the stairs, “Avery, come down, it’s time for dinner.” She hurriedly went downstairs, and tonight they ate dinner in the living room since dinner was easier to clean up if Jack spilled. The living room was the same blue-gray as the kitchen, but there was a couch and chairs instead of counters. They had one of those big light gray wrap-around couches where 10 people could sit on it and still have space. Her mom was a big member of the neighborhood book club and hosted most of the weekly meets at their house. Thor walked in with his big chew bone and sat down right next to Avery on the couch.
“What do you want to watch, Thor?” Jack asked him, as Mom scrolled through the movies we could watch. Thor’s only response was soft chewing.
“What about Mufasa? Would you like that guys?” Mom asked as she looked down at Jack sitting on the towel next to her feet. He sometimes got a little too messy to sit on the couch, especially when we watched a new movie and would get distracted.
“Sounds good to me,” Avery said as she took another bit of tater-tot casserole. “Dinner’s great by the way Mom,” Avery added.
“Thanks sweetheart, I added some different spices, and Mufasa it is,” she said as Jack looked impatiently at her. They all finished dinner before their Dad got home, but he walked in with the ending of the movie playing in the background. Jack sprang up and bolted toward him as he rounded the corner to the living room/kitchen area. “Daaaddd! Guess what, Mom let me watch Lion King 4!”
“It’s called Mufasa, Jack, and there is no Lion King 4, silly,” Mom said over him, giving Dad a look that said, What are we going to do with this kid. Her dad was a tall guy, 6’5 is what his driver’s license said, he had dark brown hair, and dimples. He had a laugh that people complimented him on and a smile that made you smile. He worked and owned one of the Dentist offices in Clancy, so it was usually rare for him to get home this late, on occasion it happened though.
“How was work, Dad?” Avery asked as she got up from the couch and went over to hug him. He hugged her back and picked her up enough to lift her feet off the ground, but to a height where she could still touch it. It wasn’t very hard for her to touch the ground (she was 5’10 in fact). “Work was good. Very busy today, though. My office lady Marie, had to go home and pick up her kids from school, so I stayed late today to fill in patient forms.”
“Sounds like quite the day dear,” Mom said, still on the couch. “Okay, say good night guys, you know you still have school tomorrow,” Mom said as she rose from the couch to help Jack get ready for bed.
“Yes ma’am!” Jack said while saluting Mom and then sprinted up the stairs.
“You better brush your teeth, Jack!” Dad yelled up the stairs.
“NO SIR,” Jack giggled from upstairs.
“Guess I’ll help Jack tonight,” Dad said as he walked up the stairs. “Good night Avery.”
“‘Night, Dad,” said Avery. After her Dad had gotten upstairs, Avery said good night to her mom and went upstairs to her bed to sleep hopefully longer than she had the night before.
The next morning, Avery woke up to the sound of rain and wind going by the windows she had forgotten to close last night. Avery closed the windows, then went to her bathroom to curl her dirty blonde hair with her new curler she had gotten a few weeks ago for her birthday. After she walked out to her closet and picked out a pair of white washed jeans and a white camo hoodie. She added some gold earrings with a little necklace that had antlers on it. Then she grabbed her black raincoat from its hanger by the door and put it in her bag just in case, because it sounded like a thunderstorm outside. “Avery, Jack! Breakfast is ready, please be down soon,” her mom projected up the stairs. She heard quick little stomps going down the stairs, and a big thud at the bottom with her mom laughing. She packed up her homework and headed downstairs for breakfast.
The kitchen smelled like Sunday morning after church. Her Mom had made pancakes and bacon, with strawberry slices on the side. “Morning, Avery.” Mom was trying to serve Jack as he was bouncing next to her with excitement. “I woke up early this morning with all this noise and thought I would make us something nice for breakfast,” Mom said, smiling.
“Morning, Mom, morning, Jack,” Avery said as she set her backpack down by the base of the stairs and then walked over to the island.
“Sugar breakfast,” Jack said, sitting down at the table, already shoving strawberries in his mouth. Avery grabbed her plate from her Mom and went to sit down with Jack at the table. Breakfast tasted so good, like sugar and birthday cake, but with the sour sweetness of the strawberries.
“Breakfast was sooooo gooood Mom,” Avery said as she walked over to the sink to rinse her plate off.
“Thanks Avery. Jack, go get your shoes on,” Mom said as she grabbed her keys and purse and headed for the hallway to help Jack. “Avery, don’t forget your cookies for the bake sale.” Mom said over her shoulder.
“Got it!” Avery called as she walked back to the stairs to grab her bag and slung it over her shoulder. In the kitchen, Avery picked up the plate of pumpkin cookies for the bake sale later today. The tray was cold, but more like holding a metal water bottle more cool than cold. She walked to the door and shut it behind her, smelling the crisp morning air mixed with the smell of rain and damp earth. The wind whistled by her as she walked to the car through the rain.
“Are we stopping at Jamie’s house today to pick her up?” Mom asked as Avery slid into the backseat and leaned forward to place the cookies in the passenger seat.
“Yeah, Jamie texted last night and asked if I said we could, but to be ready because we have to get there early to set up,” Avery said as she buckled up with Jack coloring in the back seat of their Mom’s suburban.
They were always the family that brought the teammates to sports games or meets, and they would stop at a drive-through on the way home or bring the team snack bags. Her Mom said it was more fun seeing her and Jack’s teammates happy over fruit-by-the-foot, and Nutella breadsticks, and car pooling than driving there alone. They had just pulled up to Jamie’s big green house when she came running out the front door. Jamie flung open the door, tossed her backpack to Avery, and climbed in the backseat with her. “How’s it going, family number 2?” Jamie said. She always called their family that since Avery and her had become best friends in 2nd grade and hung out all the time.
“Shhhhh, I was coloring in peace, but now that peace is ruined!” Jack complained from the backseat.
“Hello to you too, Jack,” Jamie commented, smiling at Jack.
“Everyone ready? We don’t want to make you guys late for school now do we?” Mom said.
“You got it, Mom hit that gas pedal, and we can get there really fast!” Jack said happily from the backseat, his coloring discarded on the floor.
“Not sure that’s all we need to do to get to school Jack, but you got it,” Mom said, laughing from the front seat. They drove down the streets till they got to the front of their school and Jamie hopped out and Mom handed the tray of cookies to Avery. “Have a good day, honey, and don’t worry, people will love your bake sale like bees love honey,” said Mom.
Avery opened her eyes. Bright, fluorescent lights hit her, making her vision blurry and disoriented. She looked around, trying to remember where she was and why she was there. As her eyes adjusted, she took in the small, blank apartment of New York. Her head spun as she caught up to the present in a flash. It was just a dream. But it had felt real. A recurring dream, unfortunately. It had been a full ten years since the accident, yet Avery still recalled every vivid detail of her last day with her family. It had been a seemingly normal day: school, bake sale, basketball practice, hanging out with Jamie. But it had taken a complete turn when a drunk driver crashed his truck straight into the family car. The family had all been inside, except for Avery. Even Thor was in the back seat with Jack, erasing them all. Avery tried to take deep breaths as panic welled up inside her. She had improved a lot through the years, but the sudden attacks of memories and emotions still caught her off guard once in a while. Her therapist said it would stop eventually, but she had a nagging feeling that it would haunt her forever. Just like the dream. Avery climbed out of bed and went to the window. She stared out at the sleeping city. So much opportunity and spirit, even in a sleeping city. It was part of the reason she moved here. Avery took another calming breath as she watched a taxi stop by the curb. She had grown accustomed to loneliness. Even enjoyed it at times. But every once in a while, she felt it again, that sharp pang of being alone.
ACE SANGSTER:
Isabelle’s Window
Age: 6
Time: 6:32 pm
Isabelle stared at the beautifully painted images imprinted on her ceiling,
Roses, lilies, delicate little butterflies, fluttering around.
Isabelle wished to jump, to dance like any other,
To kick the air and spin until she can’t anymore,
To grin and yell, to frolic through the fields that mused the numerous paintings and carvings within her palace that many would be pleased to be in themselves,
Isabelle laid in her room, hoping, wanting, to be free,
To see true, imperfect, beauty,
To see leaves among incredible, powerful, forests,
Dancing and twirling in the wind, just like papers and pages being thrown into the air in spite.
Age: 10
Time: 12:09 pm
Piles and piles of read books,
Of ink stained pages,
Worn and written upon,
Ripping and tearing, being worked till they’re unusable,
Again and again, Isabelle studied and scrutinized over her books,
Dog eared and ripped,
Cracked spines and torn off covers,
Stacked and shoved in the corner,
Tipping and tilting, at the smallest gust, they’d come tumbling and falling,
But never shall the wind come in,
Not the smallest gust
The littlest breeze,
The tiniest breath,
Never, will the cool, heavenly, wind brush Isabelle’s little cheek,
Age: 13
Time: 7:34 am
Isabelle sat in her room, braiding her hair,
Thousands of little ginger hairs,
With just a little bit of wave,
Twisting and weaving,
Into delicate little braids,
Attached to her little head.
The way the human body can survive years without sunlight or any peers is beautiful
The way Isabelle’s body works is beautiful,
All from her little fingers with a little birthmark on her ring finger,
To her small ears, slightly pink,
To her boney, slender, shoulders without a single freckle,
To her dainty underused ankles,
To her ribs with such tight fitting skin around them you could count each one.
Age: 15
Time: 1:05 pm
Empty plates and bowls,
Left with crumbs and drops of broth,
Single rice grains and hardened gravy,
Little bits of slightly rotten cheese stuck to the plates,
They would clink and click together whenever a maid came to collect them,
“She is to never leave this place.”
Words and whispers,
Secret agreements, about Isabelle,
Hidden decisions based upon fear and pain,
Saying that she shall be protected, from everything
That she shall be kept, from others
That she shall be hidden, from the world, and the world from her,
That she shall, never, ever, ever, leave the palace,
Age: 18
Time: 3:45 am
Isabelle wished and hoped of many things,
She wanted to go and be happy like the people in her books,
She desired to encounter peers and fall in love just like the people in her fairytales,
She craved the light and warmth from the sky just like the people felt in her poems,
She yearned to leave the very palace that she had lived her whole life in,
The palace she was protected in,
The palace that was a beautimus, powerful, fortress, filled with art of all kinds,
The palace in which she could not ever leave,
The palace that was the only thing she knew, only the pictures and words inside.
Age: 20
Time: 9:12 am
Isabelle wandered around the parts of the palace she was allowed,
The parts with no windows uncovered.
Perhaps she may find a new book
Though she almost never does unless it’s a gift.
Isabelle longed for a new story, something she had never heard of;
She longed for new words and letters assembled into new orders and styles.
Isabelle wanted a new book, a new story.
A big, beautiful door.
It all but appeared before Isabelle, though she knew of the door before this moment.
She wasn’t allowed on the other side of this door,
However,
She is getting older, what horror could be just a few feet apart from her?
She’s older than most of the people spoken about in her ink stained pages,
Just a turn of the knob,
Just a push of the door,
Just a peek,
Just a glance,
Just a journey into a new frontier,
What harm could happen to little Isabelle with just a turn of the knob,
Age: 20
Time: 9:14 am
Shelves upon shelves,
Lining the walls, the beautiful, amazing, room, it was tall and wide,
It was huge, the number of books in the room, Isabelle probably could never read them all,
Thousands of thousands of books, the sheer amount of knowledge,
of words,
of paper,
Of ink,
In that room,
But Isabelle paid no mind to the books,
They were unneeded,
For they were illuminated, each and every one, by something bright, how?
Isabelle saw a beautiful light as she looked up,
it hurt her poor eyes,
But she saw the most, incredible, vibrant, shining blue she had ever seen,
The blues in all the paintings in the world could never imitate such beauty,
It was just blue but she would walk a million, billion, miles just to see it,
The amazing light shone on her face,
It took her breath away,
It lit up all the books,
It was decorated with fluffy cotton, though it wasn’t quite cotton,
She had only heard about such beauty in poems,
but no words could ever describe the beauty of, what was this called? The sky!
The sky… is beautiful.
Age: 20
Time: 9:43 am
Isabelle stood there,
Admiring the room and everything in it,
The light, the sky,
Words were unable to describe Isabelle’s feelings,
20 years, never a single glimpse at the beautiful sky,
Why?
Why would they keep her here?
Why was she never allowed a peek,
A glance,
At the sky, the outside? Why?
“Hey!” Isabelle wasn’t allowed in this room,
Never, never, never was she to leave the rooms the king and queen allowed her in.
Isabelle ensnared a book from the nearest shelf,
Hidden in her pockets she brought it back to her room after being taken away.
One book,
Rapunzel and other fairy tales
Age: 21
Time: 11:54 pm
Isabelle remembered seeing the sky,
What other things looked like that?
Do flowers glow?
Do they also have vibrant, eye-catching colors?
Nothing like she had ever seen?
Or maybe butterflies and bees?
Do they shimmer and shine in the light?
What about the night sky?
Her books and poetry described a different appearance;
Like fireflies floating around a dark void.
She had never seen fireflies either.
Just a peek, she didn’t get in much trouble last year,
So why not now?
Just a peek, a glance, just like before!
Pushing her door open,
Taking a couple steps out.
A little look in the room, maybe get new books as well!
“Sorry princess!” A guard laughed at poor Isabelle,
Age: 21
Time: 12:01 am
“Let me in.” she demands
Please,
Just a glance! She mentally pleaded
Nothing bad can happen! surely!
Though the guard refuses
“This is very important to me!” she snapped,
She tries to push the guard.
“Hey!”
Isabelle tried to get in,
by any chance she got,
Though all Isabelle got was a couple scolding strikes from the guard.
Age: 21
Time: 12:22 am
Poor Isabelle got sent back to her room
To her miserable room,
stained carpets and torn curtains, intended to cover a painted window,
Stacks of books, all used and torn,
She was just like Rapunzel,
Little Rapunzel, stuck in a tower for 18 long years,
Until a man came to let her out,
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair!”
Rapunzel got to leave the tower,
Poor Isabelle, prince charming is late.
“Isabelle, Isabelle, let down your red hair!”
Isabelle, Isabelle, hair pulled and ripped
Isabelle, Isabelle, Delicate, pale, skin, stained by bruises now,
Isabelle, Isabelle, wide, innocent, eyes, that were ordered to never see the world,
“To keep her safe.” They said
“We don’t want to see her hurt like us!!” They convinced each other,
Poor Isabelle,
No one to help her.
Age: 25
Time: 4:21 am
Isabelle sat in her room,
She sat in silence,
Not a single noise or peep,
Every morning, if she listens hard enough,
She could just, barely hear…
Something,
What is it?
She might never know,
But either way, she has to wait till morning to hear it,
She doesn’t know, but the sound is the sound of trees in the wind,
Swishing and swaying,
Like the ocean, rolling in and away,
With birds singing in the branches,
With their magical tunes flying through the air,
Eventually meeting little Isabelle’s ears,
She wished to see whatever made these incredible noises,
Age: 38
Time: 12:34 pm
Isabelle Collected many things,
Books and pillows,
Drawings and blankets,
Thoughts and memories,
Thoughts of wanting to escape,
Memories of the beautiful sky,
Wants and needs,
Wants of being powerful, and letting the sun shine on her skin,
Needs of running in a field in beautiful sunlight or cool rain,
38 years.
In one week,
Just 7 days,
She’ll be 39,
39 whole years,
Never a childhood crush,
Or a glance of a real flower,
Or a friend to run around with,
Or a day in school,
Or worn a flower crown,
Or rode a bike,
39 years.
Age: 47
Time: 6:34 am
When she was a young woman,
She saw beauty,
She could hear beauty,
When she was a young woman,
She almost never felt pain,
She had new, wonderful, stories,
When she was a young woman,
She would stare at the paintings on the ceiling in awe,
She would play with the maids,
When she was a young woman.
Isabelle wondered, what if,
Could she be able to make her own paintings?
Or her own story?
Could Isabelle make her own book?
Her own paintings,
Her own world,
Her own ideas,
Her own life.
Age: 50
Time: 2:10 am
Paintings from gravy and melted cheese,
From pasta sauce and butter,
Drawn on empty plates and napkins,
On the walls,
Of roses and lilies, delicate little forget-me-nots,
Caricatures of beautiful things Isabelle had only seen in paintings and sculptures
Isabelle was creating her own paintings, her own world, hoping to one day see the real thing, how big are the very flowers she’s painting?
How beautiful are the little daisies?
Or the prickly little roses?
Maybe the detailed lavenders?
How amazing are her paintings?
Age: 61
Time: 1:56 pm
The more time passed the more she learnt,
and the more she hurt.
Isabelle was no longer the little naive girl,
Nor the defiant lady who saw the sky,
But she had beautiful paintings,
She was given paints and empty canvases,
She was given new paintings to base hers off of,
Soon,
Soon a new border will be passed,
Finally, 61 years old,
Her mother had died long before,
Her father entrusted his nephew, Charles, with power before he too left Isabelle,
His nephew was given one of many instructions,
“Don’t let Isabelle go outside,
To keep her safe.”
Age: 61
Time: 2:02 pm
“Isabelle!” They call it “Isabelle!”
A single little crate, barely a foot long,
But completely filled,
Filled with flowers and dirt,
A rose,
A Lily,
And several little forget-me-nots.
Isabelle marveled at the flowers,
The beautiful, amazing, vibrant, colors,
The little fibers, sewn through the petals,
The colors were nothing she had ever seen,
The way the candle light reflected off them,
Beautiful,
Without any words to possibly describe them.
There had little green shoots growing from the dirt,
Beautiful,
The way the dirt felt on her fingers,
It was soft, but sharp as well,
Beautiful,
“the flowers Isabelle!” charles exclaimed
“Not the dirt or the shoots,
Nor the leaves or stems,
But the flowers”
“but they are so beautiful,”
She whispered
“Every part is wonderful,
Every centimeter is filled with miracles,
Every little thing is incredible.”
Age: 70
Time: 9:32 pm
Hours and hours,
Spent painting,
Spent talking with Charles,
The cousin Isabelle never met,
She was a marvel to Charles,
Every little thing was beautiful to her,
How the flowers would grow,
How they would die without light,
But she was thriving with only candles.
But life and death is beautiful,
And she now believes anyone who thinks it isn’t,
Who doesn’t see beauty in everything,
Who doesn’t marvel at the smallest thing,
Who doesn’t stare at every little fiber of every little thing,
Is truly the one to marvel at,
Age: 79
Time: 7:43 am
“Isabelle!” Charles called throughout the castle,
“isabelle! I’m going to build a window!
In your own little room!!” Charles ran to Isabelle
She was laying in her bed,
Tired,
Surrounding her was paintings,
Some her own,
Some not,
Surrounding her was flowers,
Some dead,
Some close,
Surrounding her was plates and bowls,
Some empty,
Some not quite,
“isabelle! Listen! I will build you a window!
You will see the world you should have always known!”
“I will see the sky? Once more?
Wow.”
A window in Isabelle’s room
Age: 78
Time: 6:32 pm
2 days before,
Charles announced that a window would be added,
That Isabelle would dance like she always wished she would,
That she would see the world,
Isabelle was lying in her bed,
“Charles.” she called for him,
He never heard her.
Her flowers all died around her,
Her beautiful flowers she tried to nurse back to health.
Alone in her room, once more,
Wishing to see the world, once more,
Staring at the beautifully painted images imprinted on her ceiling, once more,
Wanting to see the beautiful world that mused the art among her palace, once more,
And once more, her parents called her away from her room.
…
6:32 pm.
Isabelle died, having never seen the sun.