Category: Junior Literary

If there’s one thing I know, it’s that people are more inclined to watch or read something when given an incredibly vague description of it. Here are the shows I’ve watched/enjoyed.

1. Stranger Things

While a mom hangs up Christmas decorations in an attempt to find her son, a child running loose in the town steals waffles and flips a truck with the force.

 

2.Galavant

A man comforts the king, who is going through a divorce. In his sadness, he trades his horse for a lizard. The lizard, Tad Cooper, becomes his only friend. The king accidentally obtains a legendary sword while two princesses have a rap battle.

3. Trial and Error

Larry accidentally skates through blood, and gets his skate wrench confiscated.

4. Zombie Land Saga

A group of zombies has to constantly hold back one of their members from eating the audience at their idol group concert.

5. Danganronpa: The Animation

A stuffed bear causes trouble in the residential school for the most talented kids around. I cant believe its not butter.

6.Miss Kobiyashi’s Dragon Maid

A drunk woman unknowingly hires a dragon to clean her house.

7.Ghost Stories

A group of middle schoolers take their overly religious friend to the haunted abandoned school. The cat is mean to everyone.

 

Sailor Moon

A group of magical planets change clothes and punch people with glitter.

 

I hope this has, in some way, inspired you. let me know if any of you watch any of these shows, and if the vague description seems accurate!

 

Watching, waiting for the stars

I wish to see them align just once

Play me out a path to follow

Give me direction to my fate

Dance for me, distract the mind

Give me life, or let me die

 

If I were to have to die

I dream of hypnotizing with the stars

To become a part of the universal mind

I do not believe in death just once

I want a thousand times with fate

A million choices to follow

 

I wonder what choices I must follow

To a thousand times die

How it might feel to converse with fate

Ask them if I can join the stars

Even if it is only just once

That would give me peace of mind

 

Is it even possible to have peace of mind?

Conflicted with what choices to follow

I only get to make that millionth choice once

Then there is the question: will I ever die?

What will I become after I join the stars?

Things to ask might I converse with fate

 

Sometimes I think I can hear fate

Or perhaps it is not but my mischievous mind

But I swear they let me feel the stars

Whispering what choice to follow

Foreshadowing how I will next die

I would like to know the truth for once

 

I did not believe once

The possibility of fate

But then I began to see the universe die

The thoughts melted into my mind

Now I am careful what choices I follow

I pray for the gift of the life and death of the stars

 

If fate presents with the choice to die

That choice my mind will follow

I will then hope that they will once choose the stars.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my race and what it means to have so much melanin pigmenting my skin this brown-red color. I’m more than proud to be what I am and I claim it to the fullest. I love the culture and learning about my ancestry. However, I was really conflicted when I was younger. I’d grown up in a predominantly black community, but I always felt different from my peers. They would listen to rap music and watch reality TV with their families, while I listened to Katy Perry  and watched anime at night. It didn’t just stop at peers either. I remember going to family gatherings and somewhat feeling a little set apart from everyone else. My aunts would comment on how I talked like a little white girl and as I grew older and developed my own sense of style, they talked about how I dressed like one, as well. It was all poking fun but after a while, I became irritated because I couldn’t be me without seeming not black. I felt kind of self conscious cause I didn’t act black.

How the heck does one act a color though? I wasn’t aware that you could cause if that were the case, I’d definitely act blue. That is one cool color. Literally. I hate to break it to people, but, you can’t. It is not humanly possible to act a color. Acting a race is just another form of saying act your stereotype. Is that really what people want to say? I don’t think so. This isn’t just an issue in the black community, but in many others. A lot of this happens in minority communities and children become conflicted because they feel like they don’t belong in that community unless they listen to certain music, dress a certain way, or talk or certain way. They become misguided and believe that those things actually define their culture. Now, let me say this. There’s a fine line between following your culture and following a stereotype. 

For example, using slang is not culture. So when someone speaks properly, it is not that they’re being “white”. They’re simply just speaking English. It’s so irritating that communities will make members feel cast out or different, whether it be intentionally or unintentionally, just because they don’t fit into the typical stereotype of that ethnicity or race. No. One. Can. Act. A. Color. You can only act a stereotype. Not matter what your race is or the pigment shown on your skin, everyone is different in their own way. We are not meant to be the same. We’re allowed to have our own style or speak our own way. There are no specific standards that we are meant to meet when it comes to being ourselves. So, no. I am not acting white when I speak properly, and he’s not acting or trying to be black when he listens to trap music. We’re just not being a stereotype. 

mother

mother knew it was the end

she was beginning to mourn

her lungs were a swimming pool of sorrow,

but in it, i found beauty

after all, rain made flowers bloom

the only thing to do, after a fall is to rise

 

the first thing she did the morning after, was rise

she couldn’t believe that that had been the end

she could feel the sadness bloom

mother told herself not to mourn

mourning had no beauty

all it had was sorrow

 

all she had felt for a while was sorrow

the sun would rise

she would cake on her beauty,

and would wait for the day to end

her mind was still wishing to mourn,

but her heart was looking to bloom

 

she found joy again in watching peonies bloom

she pushed aside the hurricane of sorrow

and the desire to mourn,

and instead decided to rise

that was the end

it was time for true beauty

 

the garden is where she found beauty

watching life bloom

made the pain end

like the sun, i watched her rise

a new being who would no longer mourn

 

i had watched her mourn

i had watched her fleeting beauty

i had watched her pick herself up and rise

i sat with her and watched the garden bloom

i sat with her through moments of sorrow

and i was there for the end

 

for my mother to bloom with beauty,

she had to mourn and accept  her sorrow,

but know when it was time to end, and rise.

She says she needs time to figure things out.

That there are parts of her that are broken,

And a clocks work will piece them back together.

 

She says she needs time to find the missing pieces.

As if two won’t be a bigger search team.

Like the odds won’t be greater.

 

She says she needs time to heal her open wounds.

Because being alone in doing so will work wonders.

And barbie doll band aids will close the gaps between the two.

 

She says she needs time to find herself.

As if you don’t already know every part of her.

Even the parts she tries to hide.

 

She says she needs time to be alone.

Like the space she’s held over your head for the past month,

Was all a figment of your overthinking mind.

 

She says she needs time to find a good reason to leave you.

Because being straightforward and honest isn’t what you want.

And playing merry-go-round games is your favorite pastime.

This blog is inspired by a thought that’s been on my mind a lot lately. 

Do you remember when you were younger, everyone asked you this one question: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Of course because you were so young, you wanted to be anything that could save or help people, right? For example, you may have wanted to be a firefighter, a police officer, or a doctor. But we never hear about the kids who want to be a therapist, or a psychiatric nurse, or even a janitor. These jobs still exist though, don’t they?  

I say all of that to say, for some of the jobs that people settle for, no college degree is required. So, are we making it okay for our youth to unknowingly inquire that they do not need a college degree to be successful? Don’t get me wrong, some families are wealthy enough to live graciously without working hard, but what about those families living paycheck to paycheck? It is not possible to break that cycle, if no hard work is being put in and by hard work, I mean college. But like I said, we’re doing this unknowingly. I have a few suggestions to fix this.

Let’s not steer away from asking kids what they want to be when they grow, continue to ask that, but let’s follow that question with five more questions:

1. What are the requirements for that job? 
2. What if something happens where you cannot fulfill the needs of that job physically anymore, what is your Plan B?
3. If your Plan B deals with using your brain, instead of your body, what college are you going to? 
4. What will you major in? 
5. What’s the pay difference?  

Depending on the age of the child, they will most definite not know the answer to any of these questions. But if we contentiously ask them these questions, they’ll have some type of motivation to go and research the answers. That’s a step closer to getting our youth to be greater than us. A step closer to breaking the cycle. A step closer to them gaining more knowledge. But we can only get there, if we try. 

I know this method works from personal experience. My mother used this method. By middle school, I could tell you what I wanted to be, what I could  be, the pay of both jobs, what colleges offered that field, and so much more. Come on, America, let’s make the generation better than ours. 

Dear Kai of the past,

Hey, it’s me. Your older self. I know Kai isn’t your name, but it will be what you go by when you get older. You’re probably wondering why I’m writing to you. It’s because I have a lot to tell you.

I know growing up seems scary. You’re going to dread hitting double digits for the first time, and from there, you’ll dread turning eighteen. I’m not eighteen yet, though- I still have a year to go. But that’s beside the point.

You’ll grow up being the perfect child. You’ll make good grades, and you’ll be confident in yourself. At least, for a while. You’ll begin to fall behind in Spanish class. You won’t do so well in biology. And you’ll start to doubt yourself. Don’t put all your self-worth on your grades- or maybe you already have, and I’m writing to a slightly-older version of myself than I had thought I was.

In any case, you’re going to change. Your hair will grow long, and then you’ll cut it off and donate it to charity- twice. You’ll want to paint your nails black, and you’ll have a mixed relationship with makeup. You’ll start to have fights with your dad because you want more freedoms than what he gives you. Trivial things will seem like important things. You’ll probably make several mountains out of the smallest molehills.

But don’t worry. At this time, most things have worked themselves out. You know that art school that you drive by when you go visit your grandma? You’ll be there someday. Yeah, you won’t graduate with your old friends, but you’ll make new ones there, and they’ll really accept you for who you are.

You’ll learn more about yourself. You’ll learn your favorite color (purple), your least favorite color (pink), your favorite temperature to eat pizza (cold), and you’ll learn what a mitochondria is (the powerhouse of the cell).

Change can be scary. You’ll still be nervous about moving into the dorm, and you’ll worry about grades until the end of time. But don’t worry too much- you’ll have a high enough ACT score that you’re sure you can get into college.

Oh, and one more thing. Don’t be afraid to express yourself. Don’t hide what you feel. Speak out against injustices. Tell your parents when something they say hurts your feelings. And for the love of God, be nice to your sister.

That’s all I have to say. I hope you have a nice childhood.

Love, your older self.

P.S. That shirt you lost is behind the desk in your room. You’re welcome.

Dear Bestfriend,

I have known you for many years. We were children when we first met, only four years old. You were the tiniest in our preschool class at the Baptist Church in our little town, and I was the widest. Despite our polar opposite bodies, we were attracted to one another. We spent all of our time on the playground giggling and talking about barbies and boys, and at naptime we were always sent to opposite corners of the room so that we wouldn’t talk.

You were a troublemaker when we were young. Remember when you got all that soap from the bathroom and made a slip n’ slide in the hallways? Or what about when I brought my dog for show and tell, and you stole him and the staff had to chase you to get him back? These incidents were only the beginning of all the mess you would bring me into.

When we left preschool, we were separated. You to one school, and I to another. Slowly, you faded from my mind, and I from yours. However, this was not the end of our friendship. I was nine years old when my mom got a new job near your school. I was transferred, and ended up in your class. Again, you were the tiniest in the class, and I one of the biggest. Yet, we were drawn to one another. We fought like cats and dogs. I wanted everyone to love me, and you just wanted to be yourself. We argued over everything and nothing, but we also talked about everything and nothing, all at once. My sister had just been born and it was hell at my house, and for you, well, it just was hell at your house.

Years passed in seconds, and suddenly we were in the eighth grade. We both were really into ‘punk rock’ bands at the time and dressed as dark as possible. I wore eyeliner so thick it nearly covered my whole eyelid, and I cut my hair short with layered bangs. Your makeup matched mine,a and you died your hair bright red and chopped it off to your shoulders. Together, we hated everything but our music.

But when high school rolled around, you went to a new school. It was strange not having you with me. I missed you and our long talks. I called you on many nights and gossiped about the people we didn’t like. It was the same, but so different.

When you got your first boyfriend, a lot of distance was put between us. I couldn’t relate to you much, anymore. We were both changing in so many ways. We still talked, but it wasn’t the same. When you guys broke up, we didn’t really talk about it. You moved on to a new boy then fell in love, and he took up all of your time.

We were distant for over a year, but then, as it always had, fate drew us back together. I got a boyfriend who happened to be best friends with yours. Suddenly, I was seeing you every weekend, going on double dates, and laying around at your house until the early hours of the morning. We had both changed so much, our hair was long, our clothes were bright, and neither of us wore that ridiculously thick eyeliner anymore. The four of us were our own unique version of the Breakfast Club. However, as most teenage relationships, he and I split. My heart was shattered into a million pieces, but you were there to help me put it back together. When I cried, you cried with me, and I cannot explain to you how incredibly thankful I am for that.

The reason I bring you through all this memorabilia, is to show you that we were meant to be bestfriends. We were meant to be sisters. Meant to be in each others lives.

Today, you are seventeen years old, but I can still see us as four year olds sliding up and down that hallway; I can still see you running away with that little dog. You are my family, my rock, and you are the only person I would ever want as my best friend. I hope in the years to come, you only grow happier; I hope that you stay that person you were in the fourth grade, when all you wanted was to be yourself. You are a beautiful person, full of potential and love. Together, we can be invincible. I hope as you blow out your candles, your wish will be for fate to never pull us apart. Happy birthday, sister.

With love,
Chloe

Okay, so I have this thing. I’m really skilled at it but I wouldn’t call it a talent. Like, I am so successful at this thing and it’s literally one of the only things I don’t want to succeed in. What could this thing be? Procrastination. When it looks at you, you better run as fast as your legs can take you because once you slack, it seems like you can never go back. I wouldn’t say it’s an addiction… But it is. I get back in my dorm from school and I just genuinely can’t do anything. We’re in school for 8 hours everyday and the last thing I want to do is stare at another assignment. I just want to sleep or hang out with friends and oh boy, do I not have the motivation to force myself. It’s frustrating!!! I always find some excuse as I’m sitting in my friends room. They’ll ask, “Carter, have you done Mrs. Blah blah blah’s assignment?” And you’ll simply get a,”I’ll do it later.” or “I’m too tired. I’ll do it in the morning.” Does it actually get done? No. I genuinely need help. And it’s like, well why don’t you remind yourself? I do. I just don’t want to do it. I’ll always say to myself that I’ll do it in an hour and after an hour passes, I’ll say I’ll do it after this hour passes and it continues and becomes a cycle. God forbid someone call me out on it, too. I will have every excuse in the book as to why I didn’t or how I couldn’t do it. Sometimes, it’s true. However, in other cases, that’s just me attempting to save my own butt from chastisement. But, the start to fixing a problem is admitting that you have one. I’m saying this right now that I have a serious problem. I am a procrastinator!!!! Yes. Yes I am.

I wrote a journal entry back in September that I titled “Ashes”. I don’t remember if there was a prompt to it or not, but it went some places. I know I let a couple literaries read it, but I don’t think everyone did, so I’ll share it here! I felt like it was perfect, given the special day coming up. Just as a warning, there is a bit of gore (sort of?) and mentions of (technically) murder. Please don’t take offense to it!

Without further ado, here is “Ashes”!

There’s a plant in the window that makes oxygen for me. I breathe in its creation and breathe out pollutants.

I watch its leaves flutter in the breeze as sunlight shines through them. The day is quiet as I watch this little plant. I give it water and a bit of fertilizer to help it grow. My little plant is special to me.

Because my little plant holds a secret.

Within its soil, there are bones and ashes. THey came from my ex boyfriend. I cut his finger off and used them to fertilize the soil. I burned the skin off his arms and mixed the ashes in with his fingers.

I smile as I look out the window to the massive oak tree in my backyard.

You don’t want to know what I did to the rest of him.

So that was “Ashes”. Yeah, I don’t know what happened there either, but you bet two whole dollars that I just shortened that some and entered it for that 50 word horror story contest! Along with another piece, but that won’t be shared just yet!

Here’s one fall poem that I also wrote back in September, titled “The Beast”.

It’s coming. 

It’s time.

It’s getting cooler.

The world around me is dying.

It’s all so beautiful.

 

The beast is waking up.

Its jaw is unhinged, letting its cool breath wash over the earth.

It’s quieter – there’s hardly any buzzing now. I enjoy the quiet.

 

Fires are starting. Families are gathering.

Finally they’re all together again.

 

The leaves flutter free from the grasp of their prison.

The golds, reds, and oranges twist and twirl in the wind

as the brown ones skitter and dance in the streets.

The air is crisp and the beast smiles lazily,

its breath gently blowing as it closes its eyes again.

 

Fall is here, and it’s time to celebrate.