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Three Threes Volume 1: Masks - Prologue by Jacob Repucci '19 The Mask on Spatium’s belt was a key to mankind’s ascension to godhood, and she felt the weight of guarding it. That’s why when she realised something was hunting her, every muscle in her body tensed.
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Sober by Maria Lucas '19 She gets on her tip toes to place the salad bowls in the uppermost kitchen cabinet, the
same cabinet that held her husband’s favorite scotch, Aberlour, a little over one year ago. She returns to the dishes, watching her husband lightly swirl and sip his bottle of cranberry juice before leaving for work, making her wonder if he wishes that alcohol was in it. Snow Day by Junmo Ahn '19 “No School Monday, January 14, 2019,” the school sent out the email to every student ten days in row. The dorm students have already lost electricity for five days and the food supply was discontinued three days ago. Every dorm student was starving, and only a few of them had food in storage. The students with food did not share it with the other students. Instead, they started to rule the dorm.
Summer Haven by Alison Violette '20 My anxious feet leap onto the baby stones
The minute they find their way into the fissures on my feet I know I’m home My life has been a whirlwind of change in plans and broken dreams But with all my rips and tears, this place stitches up the seams The water’s breath finds it’s way into my soul And suddenly every tattered piece feels whole. I’m suddenly friends with the grass, which is mostly destroyed from the bleeding sun But in this place, nothing needs to be perfectly done My teeth are a smile as soon as I open the door A gateway into a splintered shack of stains of sweat and swim The sun is all the porch knows And it’s constant appearance definitely shows The screech of the drawers and the shriek of the cabinets We want to tend to them but it’s becoming hard to afford it The dripping from the shower head is no match for the dripping from the swimsuits The steep stairs slumbering on a slump to where splashing is acute As I shiver and wrap my towel around my body, I’m filled with joy As I imagine the fire I will sit around and the s’mores I will destroy Then the most comforting sound that I have to close my eyes when I listen to it Calls to my body and drags me from wherever I am to share the stories it needs to admit The whistle like a note held by an angel, brings my family and I all to one place So we can challenge our eyes to watch as it rushes off to another embrace I climb to my bunk and my tired body sinks into the bed As I hear the whistle blow into distance and echo in my head The Dancer by Stephanie Sanborn '20 She spins like a hurricane in the middle of summer.
The audience roared louder than thunder. Once she took her final step, She exits the stage, taking a breath. Her mind has a million thoughts, Racing around like a Nascar race. Thinking about how her performance went. Wondering if she did great. Looking at the judges score, Her excitement soars. It soars higher than the clouds. Not ever coming back down. As she sees one 9 and three 10s, She hopes she can do it again. Dogs and Brownies Don't Mix by Elizabeth Toshach '19 The oven beeps and I start to bark. Tyler walks in and yells to his friends,
“Brownies are done!” They are eager to eat the brownies, but burnt themselves in an attempt to grab them. They decided to wait and go play video games while they waited for the brownies to cool. That is when I saw my opportunity. I could not help myself; they just looked so tasty. Shadows by Sara McInnis-Misenor ‘18 An adolescent girl covered in shadows,
Watching, waiting, observing, Visions of lives unconnected to her own. They go by, Humming the tunes they're told are popular, Dancing to the beats they're told are acceptable, Living themselves as pawns to the meritocracy. Restraining themselves, Chaining themselves to each other. Forming a massive cult of ideas and ideals, More and more are attracted. Succumbing themselves to the vortex, And falling into orthodoxy. A young girl draped in darkness stands at its edge, Observing the souls, Now lost at last, Watching the ones she once looked into. She spreads her arms, and clears her mind, Her beautiful, dark coverings turn to colorless drapes. Escaping into the void, she cries out, The world outside is empty now. No one left to watch her leave, No one left to mourn her absence. Gram-Gram the Kitty - My Great Grandmother by Basia Fisher ‘18 Gram-Gram the Kitty
Is a realistic looking Stuffed brown cat Which wears a blue bow Kitty is named after Gram-Gram Gram-Gram was my Great Grandmother Gram-Gram the kitty Lives on a shelf Next to an African doll Very few memories left Of Gram-Gram are My internal storage box But I do recall looking At the Kitty, sometimes Playing with her When I visited Gram-Gram At the Wardwell in Saco Kitty is just an artifact Who watches me each day As I write or make art Without me knowing Her owner rarely touches her I never think about Kitty That doesn’t mean I don’t Care about Gram-Gram the Kitty She has been in my ownership For almost ten years Real cats are senior citizens When they’re aged ten My Gram-Gram the Kitty Doesn’t need nine lives She will be stuck with me Watching me be creative Could Gram-Gram’s soul Be within my Kitty? Has Gram-Gram read Those unfinished fanfics The WIP short stories Or my current novel? Can Gram-Gram see My homemade cards, The paintings I’ve painted Or my digital abstracts? If Gram-Gram really had Been living inside my Kitty Since Two Thousand Eight That would make Kitty Much more than an artifact Within Kitty, Gram-Gram Secretly and silently had Spied on her Great-Granddaughter As she went through Her “Great Depression” During the SMS era Gram-Gram watched me Sail through teenagedhood At Thornton Academy She’ll experience my graduation When June finally arrives A few years later… I can see Gram-Gram smile When I publish my novel Indeed, Kitty definitely Isn’t only an immortal artifact She’s a subconscious Reminder that Gram-Gram’s Soul still breathes within Kitty as her abiotic shell Sitting on my shelf Peeping at me as I Slowly type and type My manuscript or Peacefully draw and draw Pieces of artwork The Life of the Weather by Zech Thauer ‘19 One swallow does not a spring make
How many swallows does it take To turn the cold cruel claws of winter To the soft and gentle hands of spring The time has come for Father Winter to give up his rule And give the throne to the fair Lady of memories made new The feeling of frost under foot can't compare to the smell of grass covered by dew Why winter feels so long and spring so short I haven't got a clue In the time that Spring lives her beauty is unmatched The smell of fresh blooms in trees and dew on the grass It's the perfect climate for bundles of joy to be hatched A father and mother smile as they watch their joyful lass Slowly Father Winter has died away only to be revived one day And Lady Spring passes away with great sadness giving way To Lord Summer with a sun so bright and warm It gives opportunity and enjoyment to great hordes And as Summer's life comes to an end Mother Autumn's life begins A time when her dresses are exquisite with yellows and reds If beauty is a crime Mother Autumn is guilty of one of seven deadly sins Strong and majestic like a horse with elegance that could never be bred Young lads marvel at the fiery color of the trees Lasses laugh and play in the piles of leaves Mother Autumn smiles at the sight of children And is delighted when they are enchanted by the call of a wren Apparition by Janet Olsen ‘20 He will always be there.
Not for me But in my life He is an armless apparition Who was never there to hug me. He comes and goes In and out of jail In and out of my life Like the ocean’s tide Only the tide comes every day... My father doesn’t. |
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