The Ascent

Scripps Ranch High School

Literary Magazine 2016-2017 Volume XI

 

Contents THEME: Bridges Artwork: The Clear- Jennifer Brana (Grade 10) Gradient- Michael Fitzgerald (Grade 12) Over the Bridge- Metta Nicholson (Grade 12) Through the Fog- Metta Nicholson (Grade 12) Road to Hana- Jennifer Brana (Grade 10) Dark Night- Eunice Lai (Grade 12) Writing: The Girl Who Walked Across the Bridge- Nick Stone (Grade 10)

Daredevil- Metta Nicholson (Grade 12) Written in the Stars- Eunice Lai (Grade 12) One.Two.- Eunice Lai (Grade 12) Buildling Bridges- Metta Nicholson (Grade 12) A Bridge to Neverland- Jackwin Hui (Grade 10) The Bonds that Bind- Clyde Rapiñan (Grade 11) The Bridge to Change- Sara Smith (Grade 10) That Haunted Bridge- Anonymous

Cover Art “Golden Gate” by Winice Hui

The Girl Who Walked Across the Bridge Written by Nick Stone (Grade 10) I didn’t mind that this route took me longer to walk to work. Walking across the bridge was always such a joy to me, especially to and from work. I would cross the bridge just as the sun rose in the morning, and just as it was setting after work was done. The golden glow would be just enough to refresh my mind before or after a stressful day.

This particular summer morning was especially beautiful. The young light bounced off the steel beams where I walked. It was as if the heavens had lit up my path for me, to guide me through whatever challenges I may face. It was relatively quiet, as traffic was somewhat sparse. The cobalt blue ocean that had not yet been reached by the sun’s glow contrasted the bright light. I felt like I had jumped inside a painting.

Suddenly, I snapped out of the trance induced onto me by the wonderful morning. A bright crimson dot appeared at the other end of the bridge.

“What is that?” I said aloud. As the dot inched closer and closer to me, it became a girl holding a red parasol. I had never seen this girl before. In fact, I had never seen anyone walk this route other than myself before. Once she got a bit closer, I could make out some of her features. She had fair skin, hazel eyes, and long, brown hair. A certain familiar air surrounded her.

Who was she? I tried to search my memory for someone who looked her in any way. I remembered Megan. She was my first crush. A boy named Ryan and I fought daily over who would get to marry her. It was fun, but ultimately my heart was crushed by Megan when she called me a not-so-nice name in front of the class. I figured that was a good indicator that I should move on.

I don’t think it was her, since I vaguely remember Megan having blonde hair. I tried matching her with someone else. Was it Stacy? She was another young love. I admired her from afar for the entirety of elementary school. When the final year of elementary school came, I knew I had to tell her something. I left a small note in her desk before lunch one day, and I waited. Sometime after school, I passed her playing ball with her friends.

“I got your note!” was what she called out to me. She said nothing else, and we never talked after that. I assumed that meant the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Running through my mind, I came up with dozens of girls this girl could have been. She could have been Katrina from middle school. We were the best of friends. We both hated our teachers, and wanted out of that school as soon as possible. Through our shared hate of middle school, we became close friends. We were almost inseparable. I say almost because her family moved to another state in the summer of eighth grade. That put a gap a few hundred miles wide between us.

Perhaps it was Jen from high school. Jen was my girlfriend from halfway through sophomore year to the beginning of senior year. She had also been my good friend for a while, so we stayed together for a while, I had always thought we had an amazing relationship. I guess I must have made a huge mistake somewhere along the road, because she broke up with me without explanation. She just up and left me one day. We were very distant after that, and didn’t keep in contact after high school.

The question of this girl’s identity kept floating around in my mind, to the point where it annoyed me. I had to know who she was. Then again, what if she was one of the girls I remember from my past? What would I say to her? I’m sure it would be awkward. Now I wanted to just let her pass, but the question still wouldn’t let my mind alone. I got one last look at her familiar face before she disappeared behind me. Dammit, I didn’t get to ask her. The feeling of regret immediately filled my heart.

The mystery finally broke m. I had to know her identity. I turned around and cried out:

“Wait! What’s your name?” It sounded strange aloud, but I had to know her name as soon as possible. I jumped back. She wasn’t there. I had already walked halfway across the bridge, so there’s no way she could have disappeared onto the other side yet. I started panicking as I ran to the edge, but there were no ripples in the water below. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.

But in the place where I last saw her, a piece of paper lay on the ground. I rushed to pick it up. It read:

“Forget me”.

 

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Artwork “Gradient” by Michael Fitzgerald

Written in the Stars Written by Eunice Lai (Grade 12)

The weight of being another story

in the anthology of tragedies already written in the stars

like Atlas, holding the weight of the world like Icarus, who fell even as he rose

and still, I step off bridges to teach myself to fly.

one.

We construct bridges from nightmares. Shadows and ghosts cling tauntingly to its spires and I shiver in the breeze between them, heart exploding on my tongue and fingers too cold to feel. I have idled in the light for so long that I have forgotten the stench of fear and the clutch of death, forgotten how my blood runs icy cold, icy hot, forgotten how I am nothing more than an empty shell, a carcass come to life. The nights leave me bloody and bruised from my own fingerprints and the darkness seeps into the shattered cracks of my heart.

two.

We build bridges out of hope. Fragments of light split off the edges and curl at their points, reflecting and splintering, and I dance in the suspension between them, my fingers trailing at the ends and whispering through the air. I have wandered so long in the night that I have forgotten what sugar and sun taste like on my tongue, forgotten how the waves obey the moon’s wishes, forgotten how to rise instead of fall. The mornings taste of a sweet sort of sorrow, a bitter melancholy, yet I swallow and cross the bridge, and everything fades to light.

- the end of the world

Written by Eunice Lai (Grade 12)

 

Artwork “Over the Bridge” by Metta Nicholson

 

Building Bridges Writtten by Metta Nicholson (Grade 12) The water swirled below us as we leaned against the rail. It was too dark for me to see my reflection, but between tumultuous currents, I could just make out a mirror-image of Angelica’s hair, gleaming gold in the fading sunlight. Somewhere in the streets, in the city, an accordion began to play, weaving charming tunes into the air. I stepped back from the rail and turned to face Angelica. “There is still time,” I told her, knowing what she would say. “We could go back.” “Back?” Her curls bobbed as she shook her head. “Willow, we can’t go back to him.” She reached out to touch my shoulder, where she knew the scars from the whip still burned. I shied away, looking once more at the water. “He’s burned all our bridges,” she continued, “and we have to leave before he burns us too.” “He’s burned all our bridges except one,” I corrected. She raised her eyebrows. The sun extended its golden rays one last time before disappearing behind the dark hills, and one by one, the lights in the city flickered on as the accordion’s music wafted up and up, above the darkness. “It’s time to go,” I said, walking along the bridge not toward the city but away from it, away from the man who would capture us and beat us into submission. We reached the opposite bank, walking side by side in silence. “You know,” Angelica said after some time,” I thought for a second back there, on the bridge, that you were going to jump.” Despite everything, I felt my lips twitch into a smile. “I might have thought about it,” I admitted. “But I wouldn’t—I couldn’t. I love life too much.” Angelica smiled back at me. “I’m glad, Willow. But…where are we going now?” I stared at the empty hills ahead. “We’re going to build bridges.” We walked on, not speaking, and the accordion’s music followed us into the darkness.

Artwork “Through the Fog” by Metta Nicholson

A Burned Bridge to Neverland Written by Jackwin Hui (Grade 10)

She spent her whole life pleasing. A life dedicated to her mother, A dream belonging to her father. She pursued the worldly goods, A time-honored tradition. She put on her façade, Feet loosely on the ground. She lost her dreams, Or maybe she never even got the chance To pinpoint them. A flight of fancy gone, Wings clipped not to spread, She was taught to value, But her true values were untouched. Where did that bridge to Neverland disappear to?

Artwork “Road to Hana” by Jennifer Brana

The Bonds That Bind Written by Clyde Rapiñan (Grade 11) We are all bridges, only as strong as the bonds we have, We seek to connect ourselves with others, Because individual strands, in strength they lack To hold the weight of this world. However, many strings do not suffice; Type also matters to gird our hearts, our prize. Though tech has teamed With our minds to bind Us through the web of our Virtual endeavors, relationships, and lives, But, with one click, one mistake, one fail of a try Cuts off the rope that binds two together, Therefore, the relationship dies. So I say, say your opinion out loud, With loved ones, go ahead and be proud. Instead of just sharing, spend time with your best friends forever, Experience the real life, in real time together. For the web is not the glue that binds, But the software that is in ourselves, our minds, That builds bonds between family and friends That will stand fast, ‘till the strong storm ends. It is these bonds that bind minds together Which builds us bridges to last forever.

The Bridge to Change Written by Sara Smith (Grade 10)

A change is coming to my life It’s big, scary, and new I stand and look across the bridge I don’t know what to do Should I walk across the bridge And face change I’m shown? Or should I stay on my own side And live with what I’ve known? The bridge seems rather rickety And wind blows down its length Despite the risk I take a step And gather up my strength I slowly walk upon the bridge My eyes are open wide I wonder what will change my life What’s on the other side? The bridge is a transition To the future from the past And as I reach the other end I’m glad I’m here at last The change brings opportunity My life is rather good The bridge brought me to a new place Better than where I stood

 

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2016-2017

SRHS Literary Magazine Staff

Presidents

Matt Bronars Winice Hui

Secretary

Eunice Lai

Publicity Amira Walia

Staff Rosario Bueno Katherine Lim Lisa Nguyen Sierra Parra Nina Suomi

A special Thank You to Ms. Weber