AVHS Writers Bloc Literary Magazine 2014-2015
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Transcript of AVHS Writers Bloc Literary Magazine 2014-2015
Avhs WRITERS BLOC LITERARY MAGAZINE
(2014-2015)
Produced by the lit mag team
WRITE SING
EXPRESS
PLAY
“Who were you before the world told you what you were not?”” ― Bryant McGill
The Writers Bloc club at Amador Valley High School is a place where people can freely express themselves, whether it be through
writing, singing, dancing, or more. Writers Bloc serves as an outlet for the many variations of
expression that exist throughout the world. Although self-expression traditionally is limited to
art, music, or sports, self-expression can be anything that gives one hope, motivation,
enlightenment, or identity.
Produced by Julie Chew and Jasmine Yamanaka
Illustration by Alison Ou
Special thanks to Mr.Scherer, our friend and advisor
TABLE OF CONTENTS
1. Oh Sailor by Emma Lii….............................................................1
2. Dragon Hunter by Lacey Hicks…............................................2-6
3. The Eyes by Michelle Christman….........................................7-8
4. The Magical Wait by Jasmine Yamanaka............................9-10
5. True Oppression by Alice Holtzclaw …...................................11
6. Funny by Julie Chew….............................................................12
7. Alive by Mikki Lim….................................................................13
8. Like An Ant by Jasmine Yamanaka....................................14-15
Oh Sailor
By Emma Lii
I fell in love with a boy
Who built boats with sticks and
Loved the sound of the waves.
I knew
You were born for greatness.
I learned to toughen up,
To wear my jaw down chewing barley,
To pretend to be in control,
To smooth the calluses on your hands and
To love your hearty laugh.
Always wanted you to look at my eyes
But all you saw were oceans
And
You would never find them because
They could only flow without your presence.
(I learned to toughen up.)
When you leave, you make sure I am docked at the port.
Oh sailor,
Why is it that when my boat comes into view
You sail farther into the horizon?
The Dragon Hunter
By Lacey Hicks
“We must send someone to kill that dragon. It’s eating our
cattle!” shouted a man.
I stepped away from the door, my long, blond hair falling
down my back. I have blue eyes that my parents say are as big as
small stones. I have very pale skin that is almost always bright red
from the enormous sun in the sky. And my violet dress goes all the
way past my nobly knees.
I knew that a young man would soon leave the camp. The
Hunters sent a man at least once a year to go kill an annoying
dragon. The man was almost always victorious. But sometimes
they never returned. The Hunters would call a Gathering
tomorrow and announce the “lucky” person who would be going
on the quest. The man who went on the quest would have to climb
Purple Mountains and enter Dragon Caves. There the man would
slay the dragon, and take its tooth.
But that was tomorrow. I had no worries about it today.
I awoke the next morning to the blow of a conch horn. I
got up and walked to the Gathering. I knew that my father would
not send me. He was the leader of the Hunters and it was his
decision who would leave. Even though it was a great honor, he
knew I was too weak to kill a dragon.
I got to the Gathering, and my father began to speak, “As
you all know, there has been a dragon taking our cattle. I have
decided to send someone to slay it. I have decided to send my
daughter, Skylar! Skylar, please step forward.”
I couldn’t believe it, I wouldn’t believe it! Me the weak,
blond- haired and blue eyed, peaceful girl, sent on a quest over the
Purple Mountains to kill a dragon?
“Skylar, please step forward,” repeated my father as if he
was far away.
I stepped forward as if in a daze.
“This is your champion!” called my father gesturing at me.
But I didn’t hear him, I was already thinking about how soon I
would die.
After I said good-bye to my parents, I began my journey
along the dirt trail that led to the Purple Mountains.
I walked, wondering how I could ever bring honor to the
family.
A couple of days later, I was climbing the Purple
Mountains when I saw a burst of flames coming from about a mile
ahead. I stopped in my tracks and almost fell off the mountain! I
hurriedly regained my balance, my heart pounding. I couldn’t
believe I was this close to the dragons! I didn’t know what to do if I
came face to face with one. Would I shoot it, stab it, or reason
with it? Then I heard a sound. It was kind of in between a roar and
a meow.
“Rrrow,” I heard it again.
Then the thing came over the top of the mountain and it
was a … dragon?
“Rrrow,” it said again.
I laughed. This thing was a dragon? Dragons were
supposed to be large and ferocious. This one was small and didn’t
look very dangerous. Actually, it kind of looked like a large chicken
with scales. Has this been what the Hunters and the rest of us have
been scared of all our lives?
I stuck out my hand and the little dragon came right up
and licked it. This thing couldn’t be dangerous. It was sooo cute! I
just couldn’t kill it.
“Hey fella,” I said. “Do you have any parents?”
I didn’t expect an answer, but the dragon seemed to nod
like he understood me.Then he stuck his little head in the direction
of Dragon Caves.
“Do you understand me?” I asked.
It seemed like he nodded again. And again he jerked his
head in the direction of Dragon Caves.
“Do you want to go there?”
This time, instead of waiting for me to catch on, he just
walked in that direction. I didn’t know if I should follow. He turned
his head and looked at me with his big silver eyes. I got up and
trudged after him.
As we walked (and stumbled) along the mountain side, I
began thinking of a name for this little dragon. I couldn’t keep
calling him little dragon.
“I know,” I said out loud. “I’ll call you Bob!”
The little dragon didn’t even look around.
“Okay, not Bob, how about George?”
It went on like this for an hour or so, waiting for the little
guy to make an inclination that I was even talking.
“How about Smokey?” I asked.
The little dragon stopped and looked around, as if
wondering who said that.
“Smokey,” I said again.
The little dragon came running over to me.
“Then Smokey it is.”
About an hour later, my stomach made a noise that didn’t
please me. I was hungry and I had run out of food. I looked around
and saw a bush. I walked towards it and Smokey came running
over.
BLUEBERRIES!
I plucked a few and graciously chewed them. To my
surprise, Norbert plucked a few also and popped them into his
mouth.
“You like berries?” I asked.
Smokey nodded.
“But I thought you ate cows,” I said.
Smokey had begun walking again, and I followed. I was still
in shock with my discovery that I didn’t notice we had made it to
Dragon Caves. I looked around and couldn’t believe what I was
seeing. Dragon Caves was a valley surrounded by the Purple
Mountains. In the Purple Mountains were little caves that each
had a dragon inhabiting it. It was so beautiful with the blue sky and
white clouds up above, and a highly vegetated valley below.
Shining streams, and trees laden with fruit down in the valley. And
the dragons. They were everywhere. Flying, playing, sleeping. It
would’ve been the most glorious thing I’d ever seen if not for the
enormous green dragon flying right at me.
“Rrroar!” cried the dragon.
I took a few steps backward. I stumbled, and fell.
The huge dragon swooped towards me. I closed my eyes,
and then I heard a sound like the cooing of doves. I opened my
eyes and saw the huge dragon next to Smokey. And they were
nuzzling each other! I stood up and cautiously walked over to
Smokey.
“Is this your mother?” I asked. He answered with a nod of
his head.
Smokey’s mother seemed to like me. At least she didn’t kill
me. Smokey and I ate, slept, and played for the next couple of
days.
It had been about fifteen days since I left my family when I
heard the sound of a conch horn. Immediately, there was a roar
from Smokey’s mother and she plucked Smokey and me off the
ground. She flew towards her cave. As we flew, I had a clear view
of the Hunters climbing the mountain. I couldn’t believe it! My
family was actually coming to look for me! But then I saw what
they were holding, and my heart dropped. They all had spears and
arrows. Two of them were even pushing a cannon!
Smokey’s mother landed, with a loud thump, on the floor
of the cave. I immediately got out and started heading towards the
Hunters. Smokey followed me.
I turned around and saw him. “Smokey, you can’t come
with me,” I said. “The Hunters, they’ll kill you.”
He followed me, and his mother followed him. It must
have been a strange sight as we walked up to the Hunters.
My father was in the front of the group. “Skylar, are you all
right?” he asked. “Are those, did those dragons hurt you?”
“No father. The dragons are my friends. We had it all
wrong. Dragons don’t eat humans, they don’t even eat cows. I
think babies just play with them for fun. They only eat berries and
plants.”
“How can this be true?” asked another Hunter. “The
dragons have killed us for centuries.”
“I think they were just doing it to protect themselves,” I answered,
directing my speech to all the Hunters now. “Please father, they’re
peaceful.”
My father looked from me, to Smokey and his mother, to
the Hunters behind him.
“Very well,” he finally said, turning back to me, “We will
live in peace with the dragons as long as they do the same for us. I
do not wish to slay such beautiful and peaceful creatures. Please,
Skylar, tell them that all we have done was purely for protection.”
“I will father. Thank you.”
The Eyes
By Michelle Christman
If you're reading this, I'm probably already dead. I want
this to be a warning to anyone reading this...
I noticed it about three months ago. The lights outside my
window. I was sitting at my desk, dragging through an hour of
history homework, when I caught it out of the corner of my eyes. A
pair of white lights, in the inky black of the night. First I made
nothing of it. I just assumed they were headlights from the nearby
freeway. But, as time dragged on...the lights didn't move...they
didn't flicker out...they didn't go...I looked out the window. The
lights...were persistent...and they didn't once flicker. They were
the only light in the night...and they felt...like eyes...watching me.
I didn't sleep very well that night...
Over the next few months, more and more things started
happening. Cars would slowly drive by our house...and mysterious
letters and packages containing nothing would show up at our
door! I feel like I'm being watched and followed, everyday! This
may sound crazy...but I do legitimately think someone...or
something...is stalking me...
My parents have called the police about the letters and
packages. The cops just said it was probably an error at post
office...but something deliberate is happening. At first, I wanted to
get to the bottom of it. Now I'm not so sure...
The scariest is the lights. They've been watching me every
night. There's no exception to the rule. When I went on an
overnight stay at my grandparents' house, the lights followed.
When I called my parents upstairs to see the lights, they couldn't
see them. But I could...
Am I losing my mind?
I have no choice, I have to run. I'll pack my stuff, and leave
soon. I'll leave, when they, or it, are least expecting him. I don't
know where I'm going, I don't know what'll happen...just know...if
you experience what I've been experiencing...run...run...run...
If you see my name on the news, you know what happened.
Sincerely,
Rowan Andrew Ridley
----
NEWS: 17 year old Rowan Ridley still missing after three weeks of
searching. The young man disappeared on the night of April 14th,
2015. His family and friends report him as acting "paranoid and
distracted" in the weeks before his disappearance. No body has
been discovered.
The Magical Wait
By Jasmine Yamanaka
He waits at the lonely bench secluded from the rest of the
fair. The sky is a piercing sapphire color with hints of yellow and
red from the hiding sun. The lights from the carnival rides light up
the air, and the endless rows of corn dog and barbecue stands
blend neon lights with the warm, hazy air. He continues to wait
there for at least an hour, his gaze divided between his cell phone
and the stream of couples in nighttime traffic, but all the while,
alone, with no one but himself and his expectations.
I sit at a bench directly opposite from him and can't help
but stare at his nervous glances. His feet are stomping, and he
holds roses in his hands. He's a stranger and he’s alone, but love
emanates from him more than any couple I see around. As I get a
peak of his anxious face scanning the crowd through the gaps of
random passersby, I'm taken back to a time when I was once like
him. A hopeless young romantic lost in the eyes of another
individual. A young, inexperienced girl with no knowledge of her
future or her life, the girl who made decisions that meandered
within the hypocritical winds of youth and curiosity. I remember
how those everlasting minutes before seeing that special person
felt. In that small sacred moment, we can feel their love and
romance strongly as though they are there next to us, yet at the
same time, uncertainty and anticipation leads our minds to
imagine all of the possibilities, a million times and over again.
Magic, is what it feels. A magical moment where imagination is the
closest it will ever be to reality.
I look up from the warm, cement ground, and see the
once occupied bench is vacant. I stand up and look around for the
boy, but he is nowhere to be seen. I sit myself back on the bench
as boys and girls, men and women interlocking their fingers pass
me by second by second. As my senses doze off to the hazy
summer twilight, blood red petals are swept to the tips of my
shoes. Surrounded by an atmosphere of romance and adventure, I
realize that, just like the boy with roses in his hands, I am waiting
as well. I don't know for whom I am waiting for, or when they will
come, but they will come one day. Maybe I will even be sitting at
this same bench with my heart beating and hands shaking, waiting
for that special someone to arrive.
True Oppression
By Alice Holtzclaw
We march to the beat of another's drum
We dance to the music of other souls
We talk in the language of someone else's tongue
Yet we call ourselves individuals
We claim to be unique
When everything has already been done
We ask ourselves what makes us different
But no one will respond
Once we begin to accept
The people who break the path of tradition
We will begin to see the potential
That so many people keep locked away in fear
Populations survive on diversity
How is it that we have not died out
When all our society does is banish
Those who threaten the blanket of ignorance
True oppression is not in the abuse
Though bruises and scars bring attention
It is the state of mind to which
Everyone is forced to obey
Funny
By Julie Chew
It's funny how the world works.
I once met an old man working
Behind the counters he looked at me
“How are you?” he asks and smiles
“Good,” I say quietly
In my arms I gather
My coffee, clothes, and makeup
How long it would take
For him to save up
To buy what I've spent
In a split of second
His month's collection
Gone like a cent
I go home
Something he struggles to have
Do I really deserve it
More so than that man?
Alive
By Mikki Lim
i don't know what I want, the dark or the light
the light gives me comfort
the dark gives me fright
but the dark is unhealthy
it swallows me whole
while light provides friends
and gives me some hope
the truth is: i honestly don't really care
as long as i'm living
because what else is there?
Like An Ant
By Jasmine Yamanaka
A hazy Saturday afternoon spent alone.
There’s this place that I go to, when I feel like getting away. It’s my
own secret little place, like a second bedroom for me, but it’s
actually only in my backyard. I rest myself at this spot, at the
corner of my lawn, nestled between the blueberry bushes. My
hands are empty, and my feet are bare and already stained by
mud. Today, I look at the ants crawling up the fence, never
stopping to take a rest. It looked as though they were always
looking for something, but never had the time to live.
Sometimes, it takes a while for it to happen. The more
stressed or busy I am, the harder it is for my mind to be taken
away. However, even in the most stressful of days, it always
arrives.
And it starts with the music.
Gradually, I hear crickets playing their melody, singing
faintly to themselves and each other. And then comes the guitar,
soft, deep, playing along with the grass that sways in the wind,
dancing to the melody. The backdrop begins the song, setting the
mood, then the birds join in and sing with their sweet, light pitched
voices. Every now and then, you can hear the sound of the
glistening pool water, as one droplet integrates into a million other
fallen droplets, and blends into one uniform body of nothingness.
All of these songs grow louder, and louder, until
everything is playing into my ear and filling my brain, the song of
my world that is far from here. In this world, the sun shines down
directly onto my face as though to caress only my face and no one
else. I can look into her lonely, golden eyes and smile, not having
to be afraid of becoming blind. Her heat surrounds me, but is
neutralized by the wind that passes me by every few seconds. The
music continues, and time stretches into an undefined eternity. It
is here that I determine that this is living. This is the life without
unnecessary worries and reliance on technology. This, I think as I
breathe for the first time in weeks, is living. How nice does it feel
to experience the world in its entirety, as opposed to an image of a
deceptive screen. How nice does it feel to experience...
RRRRRRRING...RRRRRRRRING...RRRRRRRRING…
My eyes remain open but I see another world. I see the
ants again, still running around desperately as they were before,
and still searching for something that doesn't exist. I no longer
hear the music, nor does the sun shine only for me. Nature is no
longer my friend, for I am back in that world.
I reach into my pockets and take out my phone. I could
never escape for long.
“Hello?”
As I walk away from that beautiful, dreamy world, and
leave it once again for the never-ending call of modern technology,
I, in ways that are hard to understand, am also leaving reality.