Whenever I’d leave the house, my mother would often say, never enter the woods. I knew she was hinting at the famous story of the Si’la, a mythological creature that was believed to shapeshift. It was a monster commonly found in old Arab fables. My mom grew up in a small village in Lebanon so it’s no surprise these kinds of stories went around the village when she was growing up. I didn’t understand her fear of them, though, as they were only thought to exist in the desert, not wooded areas. It was on one particular night that I had asked my mom if I could go out with a friend. She looked me dead in the face and said, “No.” Her voice was eerily calm, her green eyes alarmingly vacant, unlike her usual stern appearance. Had I done something to disappoint her? “Mom is there something wrong?” I asked her. “No.... I just don’t think it would be wise to go out this late. You know how I feel about the woods especially at night,” she replied without looking at me. “Okay, well, I’m not a child anymore, don’t worry so much. I can handle it plus it’s not like I’m going far in the woods, just the little path that leads to Jamie’s house. I’ll be back before twelve o’clock. I promise!” I assured her. “I don’t know, Zelie, I’ll think about it, okay.” “Okay, thank you, mom.” Later that night she had made up her mind. I couldn’t go to Jamie’s house. Oh, well. I had other plans. I was going. I would wait till she went to bed and then I'd quietly climb out my window. I’ve done it before, but I usually get this immense feeling of guilt. I know I shouldn’t leave without telling my mom, and cause unnecessary strife between us, but it’s not like I won’t come back or get lost. I can only imagine how she would react if she walked in my room to find me gone. I promise I’ll come back mom, I said to myself, looking back in the direction of her room. Her door was slightly open. That was odd, I thought. It wasn't like her to leave it open. Usually, she would wake up at the sound of a pin dropping and had to keep her door shut for uninterrupted rest. Perhaps she just forgot? Now I definitely needed to be quiet, I thought as I slipped my window open. A breeze filtered through the curtains. The air was cooler than I predicted. As I clambered down my roof I wished for a jacket. The walk to the woods wasn’t too far from my house, just a little over a mile. However as I tracked down my yard, it felt farther tonight. The entrance to the woods wasn’t as full of life as it used to be , most of the trees were cut down due to construction that had started earlier this year. One thing was still there though, the path I created to Jamie’s house. It was narrow, just big enough for one person to walk through. The moon was a crescent shape in the violet sky. My mom’s least favorite shape, but it was my favorite. Looking up at it, I felt a weird sensation in my stomach. Maybe I should go back home. But I couldn’t. I promised Jaime we would play UNO tonight. So I pushed through the greeting trees and into the darkness. I pulled my phone out to turn my flashlight on. I noticed there was no reception. I gulped. This was not the best time for my only form of communication to be gone. With the beam of light slightly ahead of me, searching through the branches for animals, I continued on. Cautious. Something was definitely off. Usually the forest was loud with life, a chirping bird or an orchestra of crickets. This was not the case. The silence sent a chill down my spine. After several more steps, the ground beneath me turned soft and mutable not like the hard, compact dirt I was used to. I shined my flashlight to the ground. It was white. White like sand. I bent down to touch it. Sure enough, the small grains slipped through my fingers like water. Sand? What was that doing here? It could have been the construction workers. I had seen them with bags of stuff in the morning, carrying them over by the forest. Standing up, I dusted my hands off. Yeah, it was probably that. A couple feet ahead, the trees began to thin into a clearing. I ran toward it, following my path. As soon as I passed through the final pillars of trees, I was blinded by warm light. Startled, I glanced up at the sky with hooded eyes. It was bright as day! Blinking against the feverish wind, I looked around me. Sand for miles. Nothing else but sloping dunes. My heart bounded in my chest. I spun back around to look for my way back. I gasped. The forest was gone. Where am I? I checked my phone again hoping that a sliver of signal was there, but who was I kidding. With my luck my phone probably turned off completely. Don’t panic, I thought. I’ll walk around a bit more. Maybe I’m just seeing things. I roamed around a bit farther only to find what looked like an oasis, surrounded by big palm trees and emerald colored vegetation. I stared into the pristine colored water to see my reflection. Someone else stood behind me. She looked exactly how you would describe a Si’la, she was godly looking, but she didn’t last in her human form for long. She switched into what seemed like an octopus but with serpent looking tentacles. Eight scaly arms formed and gripped onto my neck, as soon as I was about to pass out it loosened its grip. I gazed up at the sea creature, thankful to still be alive. I’d seen those eyes before. ”Mom?”
Hallway Tango By Peyton Chen
While moseying down the hallway, a boy is coming head on. His panicked deer eyes dart from room to room trying to escape to his next destination before the blaring DING! erases his perfect first impression, not even registering that you are about to collide. His legs prace like a racehorse at the ingate, trying to sprint to the correct room but having to hold in his energy as the rooms are a mystery to him. After scanning each room his neck craned to the off white brown stained ceiling tile, searching for the glowing plastic signs with poorly spray painted numbers to save him. “GET UP YOU’RE GONNA BE LATE!” Screams his brother from across the hall. He bolts up-right, OH MY GOD I have to leave in ten minutes!Fly to the bathroom, brush teeth, wash face, hit hair with comb, change, run down stairs. He sprints into the kitchen, grabs a granola bar and launches into the passenger side. Ok what were the tips I got, um, ok no walking on the wrong side of the stairs, no walking too slow, no walking too fast, make good connection with a teacher, what am I missing?! He jumps out of the car to the red brick building. His fifteen pound backpack swaying from side to side as he shuffles in. The boy finally processes that you’re coming his way. The wildfire panic in his eyes grow. He stumbles to the left to get out of the way. Trying to plan ahead, you also step to the left. He slides to the right; you slide to the right. Then again, stumbling left and right “oh um… sorry… haha oops…” Both students make stiff robotic movements trying to figure out which way the other will step. “Ahh sorry!” He finally freezes in place unsure of the next step. You quickly pass him giving an awkward over the shoulder smile before going on your way. You stroll into the class with the teacher you’ve had for years. You’re put at the same desk as the last two years. You run your finger over the smooth finish, hitting the divots from the pencil carvings that had been there when you walked in the room for the first time. Your teacher picks on you in front of the class and you sarcastically shoot back. The same laughter as last year spills from the same students that have been in your class forever; Your teacher laughs along with the class. The cheesy posters and stained carpet welcome you back. The boy sprints into his room. It’s empty except for the stranger sitting at the computer in the corner. The teacher raises a curious eyebrow at the out of breath, wide owl eyed, slightly sweaty boy that slammed into the middle of his room with the force of a freight train. Adrenaline still rushing through his veins even though he was a full three minutes before the late bell. The teacher softly chuckles, smiles, shakes his head, and looks down at the stained navy colored carpet before pointing to an empty desk.
Daddy's Girl By Anabella Popiel
The Swing Set The wood chips crunch under her tiny feet as she runs towards the swing set. Her light up Sketchers slip from the morning dew that kisses the top of the fresh cut grass. Her dad follows behind her, watching each step that she takes. He lifts her onto her beloved childhood swing. Her miniscule fingertips grip the cold metal chain that hangs down from above her. Her cheeks dimple and her eyes wrinkle as he begins pushing her swing towards the sky. She pumps her legs with all her might in hopes of impressing him. His lips curve upwards as giggles erupt from the little girl. His phone rings. “We need you to come back to work.” The father walks away. The little girl is left to swing on her own.
The Middle School Concert She looks out into the crowd of unfamiliar faces. Each person is donned with a smile as they mingle with those around them, waiting for the concert to begin. She scans the auditorium for her own. Her fingernails dig into the palm of her hand as each face she examines resembles no one she can recall. Tears swell into her eyes as the giant room full of people suddenly feels small and lonely. The smell of b.o lingers in the air as everyone settles in. A hand shines through the crowd and it catches her eye. The little girl’s mother and brother wave to her with smiles placed on their faces. But there is an empty chair beside them. It is the chair meant for him, but it is not filled. Her heart feels as if a piece of it is broken off by the vacant chair beside them. The lights shine brighter and the conductor in front of her begins the concert. Her eyes dart between the doors in the back and the bare spot among the crowd. The music she sings blends into background noise for she can only focus on who is missing. The last note is played with such a heavenly feeling yet she wades in her pain. Her mother stands by the exit door for her with open arms but they are not his. “He had to work late again, baby. I am so sorry.” The little girl’s face softens but her nose crinkles as the tears start to form. The chair beside them is rarely filled.
The Breakup The constant hum of a printer fills the air as she walks into her father’s office building. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy and she trembles with each step she takes. The girl is no longer little but she feels small. Her heart has been ripped out of her chest. Tears spill out and run down her cheeks like it is a race to get to the bottom of her quivering chin. She hears his booming voice echo down the hallway as she gets closer and closer to him. She struggles to stay composed as the tape holding down her broken edges begins to unstick. He sits behind a beautifully carved wooden desk where piles of white printer paper lay upon. Her quiet footsteps catch his attention as she peers through the doorway. He gazes right through her and she crumbles. “We broke up.” Her throat tightens and her quiet tears turn to sobs. The phone rings. He ignores it. He opens his arms and embraces her.
Chincoteague By Remy Frawley
An orange tint washes over all that I can see: sand, water, sky, and tall grasses. The sand tickles in between my toes as I sink deeper and deeper, watching the waves come and go. Something else tickles my foot; I reach down, scooping up a handful of wet sand and letting it spread out over my hands. My heart skips a beat, not prepared for the little surprise I see in my palm. A tiny little creature, a sea tick, crawls to the surface, scurrying about. I study it for a moment, noticing its flailing legs and speckled shell, before placing it back down. I watch as it burrows back into the sand, a wave washing over where it once was. The sky begins to darken as the sun sinks below the horizon, and I remember what I came here to do. My fingers stick together, glued by a thick layer of marshmallow. The waves wash over my hands as I try to scrub away the stubborn residue. I grab the bucket that I was supposed to be filling, dunking it under the waves, letting them wash over it too. The bucket becomes heavy with seawater, and I struggle to carry it back to the campfire, sploshing water every so often as I trudge through the sand. The fire is almost out, with only a few small flames and glowing red embers poking through the ash. We dump the water we’ve collected onto the hot surface, standing back as it extinguishes the remaining flames. Loud sizzles and crackles fill the air, and grey smoke floats into the night. Satisfied with our work, we begin our trek back to the car, over a mound of sand and across a parking lot of broken shells. All traces of the warm sun have left the sky, replaced by the faint glow of the moon. A cold wind brushes past my face, and the sound of crashing waves is taken over by the crunching of shells beneath our feet.
Cadere, Cadere By Sophie Maclean
“Hurry up, Octavia,” Bellamy said to his sister as they boarded the plane. The two children were alone, with backpacks, and excited to go on a real airplane for the first time. “I am, Bellamy,” Octavia whined as she tried to walk faster, “Your legs are longer than mine!” The children found their seats in coach and sat down. “Do you think Grandma baked cookies for us?” “She usually does when Mom and Dad drive us,” Bellamy replied, “Now be quiet, we’re about to depart.” It was only about twenty minutes into the flight when Octavia discovered there was simply nothing to do on the entire plane. “Bellamy,” she whined, “I’m bored.” “Just watch a movie.” “No! I don’t want to!” “You’re so annoying, Octavia,” Bellamy groaned, “Play with Mr. Fuzzy then.” Octavia pulled a small stuffed bear from her backpack and began to walk him around her tray table and seat. She was quite content with herself until a large rumble from the plane disrupted her. “Ladies and gentlemen, we appear to be having some light turbulence. Please remain seated with your seatbelts securely fastened and your tray tables in the upright position.” Octavia and Bellamy were unsure what was happening, but no one around them seemed too concerned, so Octavia went back to Mr. Fuzzy and Bellamy continued to read his book. “I can’t wait to see Grandma,” Octavia said, “We’re so lucky Mom and Dad let us go for the whole summer.” “We’re going for the whole summer because Mom and Dad are getting divorced, O, remember?” The little girl, being only six, had not yet grasped the concept of divorce. Therefore, she saw this as a special long vacation that would include spending her brother’s twelfth birthday at her grandmother’s house. “I can’t wait until I’m twelve,” Octavia said. “You’ll get there one day,” said Bellamy, not looking up from his book. Again the plane shook violently, but this time for several minutes rather than seconds. The lights flickered on and off. Bellamy saw some of the adults still rather unphased and took this as a sign to tell Octavia everything would be okay. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, I would just like to announce that there is a little more turbulence than expected and we’d like to apologize for any delay this might cause. The connecting flight to Minneapolis will be delayed an extra thirty minutes for those who need to make that connection. Please be patient as we get through this rough patch, and thank you for flying AirCadere.” “Just hold on to Mr. Fuzzy,” Bellamy instructed Octavia as he put his book back in his backpack. He was shaking a little, but wanted to be strong for Octavia. It’ll be okay, he thought to himself, nothing bad will actually happen. Octavia watched as some of the people around her began to look worried. She noticed they started to whisper, and give each other looks. A woman with gray hair and wrinkles a few rows back had her hands clasped together and pressed against her bowed forehead as she silently mouthed something. Once again, the plane began to violently jolt, and this time it did not stop. Octavia clung to Mr. Fuzzy as Bellamy clung to Octavia. “It-It’s okay,” he told her, although he was no longer sure if that was true. Octavia didn’t respond, but instead shut her eyes tightly and told herself it was all a nightmare. Any second now, she would open her eyes to see her mother and father by her side, telling her she had a bad dream and it wasn’t real. They would tell her this, and each give her a hug, and then she would sleep in their bed for the rest of the night, sandwiched between them. She just had to wake up. The plane continued to shake. The lights flickered off and did not come back on. Bellamy watched the flight attendants take seats of their own and buckle themselves. He could tell they were trying to look as though everything was alright, but their smiles were forced and the fear in their eyes gave them away. Many of the passengers had taken Octavia’s approach of closing one’s eyes and waiting for it to be over. Others were clinging to each other as they reassured themselves everything would be fine. A baby began to cry. The old woman who was mouthing things was now saying them aloud, just loud enough the few rows surrounding her to hear. A gut wrenching screech came from somewhere in the plane. It was not a screech from anything living, but rather a mechanical sound, as if metal was being ripped apart. A wave of panic flooded over the passengers as the flight attendants unbuckled and ran to the front of the plane. Plastic air masks dropped from the ceiling. The flight attendants ran back to their seats and re-buckled themselves while instructing everyone to put on their masks. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is, once again, your captain speaking. We are having some slight technical difficulties, but it's nothing to be worried about. We expect to arrive in Minneapolis in about forty minutes.” Almost everyone put on their mask, but some refused saying it didn’t matter. The old woman was now screaming her prayers, although it was barely audible among the chaos. The baby was still crying, as were most of the adults. Many were screaming, some were trying to make last-second phone calls to loved ones, and there in the middle of it all Bellamy held Octavia and kept assuring her everything would be ok. “I can’t wait to get to Grandma’s house,” he told her. “I bet she did make us cookies. Are you excited? We’ll be there soon. Just keep your eyes closed and it will all be over soon.”
No Show but Shown Up By Megan Fruth
Sarah sits down on a kitchen stool next to Mark, husband, and sighs, tossing her mobile phone back and forth in her hands anxiously, wondering whether or not she should call Carly and figure things out. I don’t want to regret this (Looks at Mark and shakes head before pressing the call button) This might be the worst part, just hearing the line ring… I don’t want to do this (Hangs up and sets the phone down on the counter) But I need to do this… nothing will be talked over if I don’t. (Groans and presses the call button again, leaving the phone on the counter, being able to wring her hands) (Turns to Mark) Would it be worse if she didn’t pick up or if she did? Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. Well, maybe I do… No, no I don’t. (Places both hands on the table to stop herself from fidgeting as the phone call goes right to voicemail) Crud, ok, uh hi Carly, it’s Sarah. You should know who this is. You can read the caller ID. Something you can’t read, apparently, is your calendar because my wedding was yesterday and you were not there. Normally, I’d be fine with you not showing up to plans, you were supposed to help me get ready for a day that is supposed to be so special. (Sighs and takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down a little bit) Whatever. I had Aubrey fill in for the speech you were supposed to do, which wasn’t the same, but I couldn’t just have no one. I need to remind myself to never have her do last minute things for me. The only reason I’m calling is to just ask you why. Why you didn’t show up. Why you didn’t let me know. Why you thought this was ok. I don’t want any excuses, I just want the truth. I don’t even care if it’s because you secretly hate me, or something, I just need to know. (Fidgets with her wedding ring, trying to distract herself)You KNOW how special yesterday was to me, especially having to go through it without Dad being there. I have to be honest, this made me almost as upset as him leaving. And you know how much that stung. You’re like family to me, and just not showing up? That made me feel like garbage. And that made you seem like garbage to everyone in my family now too so I hope you enjoy that being on your conscience. I don’t know which one I’d be guiltier about if I were you. (Sighs and rolls her eyes, trying to hold back) I just don’t get why you did what you did. What was the point of it? The idiocy you must have to just not show up to your best friend’s wedding. (Laughs) Scratch that, I don’t consider you my best friend after that. But imagine how you would feel if I did that to you. Just imagine. I was waiting for you for over half an hour before I was told we had to start. I wanted to wait, but I knew after that amount of time that you weren’t showing up. And I was pissed. Justifiably, too. Don’t expect me to be there for you now when you need it. (Gets up from the stool and paces a little) After this, don’t expect anything from me. I don’t deserve this treatment from someone with who I thought I was so close to. Apparently, you thought so, though, and here we are. I don’t care though. You deal with your stuff, and I’ll deal with mine, without each other. I feel like that is what’s best for us at this point. I need my time to breathe and think through this, and you need to do whatever you do to see how stupid this was. (Puts hands on the back of stool to steady herself and shakes head) I always knew you liked to do stupid stuff, but I’ve just never seen anything this stupid done by you, sorry. I don’t regret saying that. You deserve to hear the honest truth about yourself because I doubt you’ll own up to it. And that’s why I called you, to call you out for being dumb and hoping you’ll own up to your mistakes. If not, then that’s your fault and you have to deal with it. (Clenches hands and rubs eyes, exhausted from the conversation) I’m sorry for having to talk to you like this, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to face you. I don’t know whether I would cry or punch you, and I would rather not do either of those things because, unlike you, I will still try to be respectful of you and your life. At least as much as I can after what you did. (Takes a couple of deep breaths to finish off what she’s saying and closes her eyes) I have to be honest, I don’t know when, or if, I can forgive what you did. That hurt me more than anything really has, and I don’t know how you expect me to react to that. And this is how I am. You brought this upon yourself. It was a childish mistake on your end, and now you have to pay for it. There’s no way I’m letting you off easy on this, especially on something so major. But, that’s all I have to say, for now at least. I don’t want to hear from you again unless it’s an apology. I don’t care at this point. I’m done with this treatment from you so maybe forever, goodbye. (Hangs up and turns to Mark)God, I hope she’s actually going to listen to all of that.