S: MUSE Vol. 2 No. 1
1: Muse | A Literary and Arts Magazine Mauldin High School 2012
2: Muse is a production of the Creative Writing program at Mauldin High School. We would like to thank Mrs. Jennifer Johnston's Creative Writing class at the Charles Townes Center for their collaboration this year. Ann C. Miller, Principal Yvonne Mason, Instructor Greenville County School District Greenville, SC Muse is also available as an on-line publication at Mauldin High School home page -->MHS Students-->Muse Muse was made possible by a generous grant from the Mauldin High School PTSA. Cover photograph by Sarah C.
3: This year's Muse is dedicated to our beloved administrative assistant, Mrs. Kim Craven. She was a gift to us all and we continue to work to further her legacy of kindness and joy.
4: For Laika A dog, that's all. She was just a dog. Just a dog? No. She was the dog. She was the dog they chose. She was the dog who made history. She was the dog who went into space. She was the dog who was forever loyal. She was the dog who was given a second chance. She was the dog who did her duty. She was the dog who would see the world. She was the dog who would wonder. She was the dog who will bring you back a star. She is the dog who will never die, -Brianna B. | -Sarah C.
5: found poetry from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein -Tyla Hovell
6: Water The water murmurs soothingly against soft white sand, caressing tender soles that pitter-patter along. Farther down, it crashes into crags, and breaks into glittering tears that wash away the tiny grains. Sand-caked feet take a moment to cleanse before running back to pick up more grit. Some stay longer, though, and keep their feet submerged until the stars shine and their shores are empty. -Kelsey F. | -Karen G. | -Karen G.
7: Love Burns Eternal In the pit of the stomach a flame burns Laying dormant in utter darkness A dragon raises its head solemnly To look on with misty eyes Tears trickle down emerald scales leaving them bright How they glisten in the greed of the dragon's spoils “Was it worth it?” the dragon would say Above the turmoil that swirled, twirled, and danced in his head “Madness, greed, and anger why must you haunt me? My love, my dearest love can you not feel my tears for you? I would trade all the treasure I own to see your face....just to see your face one last time” A thousand years has aged and left the dragon miserable Years upon years of solitude Never to see his beloved His fire has dwindled to a mere spark Hope kept it lit But now death shall conquer over hope As he sheds his final tear The ember in his heart sputters out In the final tear of a dragon a flame remains Full of love that will never die Love burns eternal -Jessica S.
8: Summer Once a year we have this season During this time we can be free Where the sun is golden The calming ocean you adore And the birds sing in harmony And the sun begins to shine And sandcastles are built with shovels The waves crash onto shore The burning sand begins to sizzle Then a light rain begins to drizzle School starts back again The weather starts to cool Uniforms or dress code becomes the new trend Now a pencil not a shovel becomes your tool - Anna S.
9: Ballad of an Anorexic No breakfast, no lunch One mid-morning snack Three blocks up the road Its energy I lack Sitting in class I can't stay awake My head cannot focus Please end this ache One peek in the mirror How small can I get? Ten pounds I’ve dropped Am I pretty enough yet? My head is spinning I cannot walk straight My feet start to tangle I fall; it's too late A size extra small Too big on my frame Three little white pills To end this sad game One peek in the mirror How small can I get? Twenty pounds I’ve dropped Am I pretty enough yet? | My parents will find My small little frame No more hunger or pain I’ll always be the same Lying in my casket My stomach is flat Forever and ever I’ll never look fat One peek in the mirror How small can I get? Thirty pounds I’ve dropped Am I pretty enough yet? - Emily T. | -Sarah C.
10: Ribbons Perfect little roses Tied in small bows. As the thorn encloses, My perfect little thumb. Ribbons of life Outstretched towards me. Cut down by a knife In evils possession. I watch my hands fade, My heart turned to glass. The life that I made, Fades into the past. Perfect little roses Tied in small bows. - Megan T.
11: Go Hard or Go Home The sky is the limit You have nothing to fear Have faith in yourself When times get hard, don't shed a tear Just think of your dream And know that it's near It may be harder than it seems But all you have to do is believe Especially, when everyone leaves Just do your job and watch what you'll receive Trust me I know That feeling of relief If you give up now, you'll fell so low That's not what you want When you're so close to your goal some time from now, you can flaunt Your success and accomplishments You worked hard for and got. -Lexi B. | -Catherine P
12: This object I know this object similar to my shape. She goes where I go, and stands the way I stand. But only in the sunlight. She can make any sound that I make. She can move anyway I move. This object has no face, Nor does it have an emotion. This object is a close friend but Only because this object will not go. This object Is dark, it has no face, no emotion, No smile. This object Won't leave me alone This object follows me everywhere I go... -Jasmine W. | -Sarah C.
13: Home The big city The bright lights The crowded city The night life The city that never sleeps The loud city The city of crazy streets The proud city The city of power The city of the twin towers. City of my birth -Rashad M | -Catherine P.
14: -Home The security camera looked through me. It recorded my face as I walked through the foyer. I picked a corner seat. As I sat, the place erupted. Barb always seemed to drop dishes with a clatter. Tyree always burnt hash browns. I was a regular by now. Every Tuesday night I spent 10.41 On a chocolate chip waffle and a large plate of hash browns. The golden of the waffle and the golden of the hash browns glimmered. The iconic Waffle House mug sat warmly in my fingers. The creamy caramel color swirled with caffeine. The cup stuck to the syrupy tables. The fork had water stains. The napkin came off the table in shreds as it stuck as well. As the waffle made a home in my mouth, Its buttery love and rich chocolate chips ran down my throat. The salty hash browns crumbled to my stomach as I engulfed. My mouth had become a wonderful vacuum, Always okay to bring joy through food I didn't need. The coffee cup was drained. When Barb took my dirty things, I sat in the corner with an empty seat in front of me. Barb's hair, a dark brown was wonderful. Tyree could smile and light up my world. They were strangers to me and yet, they were beautiful. Full stomach, countless calories, Barb dropping plates, Tyree burning countless batches of hash browns; I was home. -Rebeccah G.
15: Dissension Clarence was his name, but they called him the ghost of the west, the silent bullet, and a plethora of other names, dark and mysterious, but very much not Clarence. However the name he was called most of all he was, Boss. The men who called him boss had their own name. His gang was called, “The Terrible Five. “ The West was getting smaller and western bandits were becoming myths, the things of legend. Clarence was ready to settle down. Build a house, find a wife-or was it the other way around? "One last job," he kept telling himself. One last job. No matter what he told himself, he didn't tell his men. He'd wait and do that when the job was over. When they had their gold split and their guns down. The train looked like a furious dragon on a rampage; blowing smoke through its nose. But they robbed the dragon without wasting even a single bullet. The heist went well. It was quick, smooth; a thing of pure precision. Planned down to the most minute of details. The ease in which the Terrible Five robbed the train is almost disturbing actually. Never had such a large amount of gold been transferred with such a small amount of security and stolen with such ease. Easy as the train was robbed, Clarence thought life was a novel and he was its author. After all, life couldn’t be going easier. Unfortunately, life isn’t a novel, but a game. A game played by a tricky game master. She has a way of playing awful tricky moves with her pieces. And she was just toying with Clarence. Clarence never saw it coming. He slowed down once they got far enough away from the train. About to climb off his horse, he was knocked off instead. “What are you doing!?” he yelled to Jackson, his right-hand-man. “Sorry, Clarence, you can’t lead this gang anymore.” said Azal. “You’re weak. You’ve lost your grit.” Azal spit out a black mass of chew a foot away from Clarence. “Jackson’s gonna lead this gang to places you can only dream of.” Azal started to walk away as the rest of the gang walked closer. Then he stopped and turned around, “We won’t kill you.” He paused. “But God willing, you’ll wish we did.” Clarence gasped at the first blow. It came from Milo. Milo held a clandestine repository of hatred for Clarence. He’s held the feeling in his heart for years. Dumb as a bag of bricks he may be, he always wanted to be the gang’s leader. “If Clarence just died,” he’d think to himself, making sure to never let his secret feelings known. Bale didn’t like what they were doing at all. He's Clarence's oldest friend. But Jackson said, “If you’re not with us, you’re against us.” Bale had no choice. Still, he was merciful. Clarence blacked out in an instant. Darkness. The smell of smoke, the taste of blood. Sand lining the places you don’t want sand to line. When he tried to get up a tsunami of pain rushed through his being. He refused to pass out. He forced himself up. He let out a scream of agony that reverberated through the desert and echoed back to him. Then he heard a noise that wasn’t his own. A mournful sound, like a spirit screaming out to the land of
16: the living. A wolf. “No.” thought Clarence. “Never in my life have I seen or heard of a wolf being down here.” He thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But he heard the sound again. It was sad, yet beautiful. Then it turned into a growl, a scream, a yelp and then-silence. Ignorance is bliss. As is insanity. It’s better to be crazy than sane in this situation. Because Clarence had to deal with the knowledge that not only are there wolves in this God-forsaken desert, but there’s something else. Something else that just killed a wolf. They left him his rifle. No one would touch it. Clarence considered that it was left there for him to use for survival, but that was just his mind wandering. They assumed he was dead. He propped the butt of the rifle in his arm pit and stuck the tip of the barrel in the ground. It wasn’t a good crutch, but it’d have to do. A sand storm picked up. Clarence’s face was blasted by the storm. It was like being punched by one hundred boxers with sandpaper gloves. He pulled a bandana out of his pocket and began to tie it around his mouth and nose. It’ll be hard to breath, but at least breathing will be possible. But before he could get it tied, the wind snatched it from his fingers and sent it flying. Finding it was impossible; it was invisible in the blanket of sand. Clarence walked through the storm, blocking the sand as best as possible by holding his blood stained shirt over his face with his free hand. His foot slammed into a rock and he screamed in agony. Just as his scream was silenced by the screaming wind, the rock was hidden by the veil of sand. He held his breath and let his shirt fall back into place so that he could use his free hand to feel around the rock. He worked his way around to the other side and saw that there was a small cave. He climbed inside and curled his body into a fetal ball shape; looking something like a curled fist. He slept. A strange noise woke him up, but he forgot about it, realizing the storm had passed. If it weren’t for his aching body and severe lack of energy, he would’ve jumped for joy. If only he knew. He walked out of the cave and heard the strange noise again. It stopped instantly. Something fell on his shoulder. It was wet. “Rain?” thought Clarence. He felt it. “No. Not rain. It’s Slimy. And white.” He noticed a bit of red mixed in. “Oh dear.” He barely had enough time to think before he was knocked to the ground. A beast was ripping into his arm. Screaming. Agony. Clarence managed to grab his gun and knock the butt of it into the head of this creature. It fell over but jumped right back up and began to gnaw into Clarence’s arm again. He hit it with the gun once more. Then he rolled on top of the beast and hit it repeatedly with the gun until it stopped moving. Clarence fell over on his back and let out a huge sigh. Then a silent scream when he saw what the creature did to his arm. A wolf. The beast that attacked him was a wolf. A big wolf too. Clarence ripped a sleeve off of his shirt and tied it around his shredded arm. He got in close to inspect the wolf. That’s when he noticed it. That’s when it hit him. The saliva that fell on him earlier. The saliva that oozed out of the beast’s mouth. It was the white and frothy symbol of death. This wolf had rabies. And now Clarence did too. It was a death sentence. Clarence felt like he was falling. For no matter what he did, no matter how strong his body and mind, he would eventually succumb to insanity and die.
17: Part II “Buy the saloon a round on me,” chuckled Milo to the bartender. The drunkards all cheered for joy. “If you keep spending your money like this, you’ll have none left in no time.” Said Azal. “Oh You’re right Azal! You’re so smart! I know why Jackson made you his right hand man.” Said Milo. Then he turned back to the bartender and said, “I take it back. Cancel that round.” The saloon patrons all released a collective sigh and the bartender shook his head. “Milo” Said Azal, “You just don’t have any common sense. Or brains for that matter.” “What’d I do?” “Never mind. Just forget it.” As Azal finished his sentence the deathly sound of nothingness filled his ears. The cacophony of drunken yells and noises usually heard in the saloon was replaced by complete silence. Azal and Milo turned towards the door. “Hello.” Came a raspy, weathered voice. It was followed by two loud bangs then two loud thuds. Milo and Azal hit the floor. Part III Bale’s heart was pounding. He threw whatever he could grab in his bags and stumbled out to his horse. He tied the bags to the horse’s saddle and prepared him to ride. It was the middle of the night, but he had to get away quick. He’d heard the whispers. Two of the Terrible Five were killed. They say by the ghost of Clarence. Bale didn’t believe in that stuff, but he wasn’t going to risk it. His horse ran fast and furious. Then the horse flipped over and shot Bale off. Someone set up a trip wire. Bale crawled to his horse as fast as possible, but the horse’s right front leg was broken. Bale heard a twig snap and turned around while simultaneously pulling his gun out in his quivering hands. “Who’s there!?” He yelled. “Is it you, Clarence!?” There was no reply. One bang knocked the gun out of Bale’s hand. A second hit him in the stomach and knocked him over. He saw Clarence come stumbling out from behind some trees. His movements were twitchy and jerky. His eyes red as blood. Bale began to cry. “Please don’t kill me Clarence! I didn’t want to do it! I quit the gang after what they We Did to you. And-And I went back! I went back Clarence to look for you. But you were gone! Please! Please forgive me!” Bang.
18: Part IV: The Finale Jackson wasn’t like those other three. He’d heard the rumors, but he wasn’t going to run and hide or just sit there while Clarence shot him. Jackson was a fighter and he’d fight to his last breath. It was Sunday and he was sitting in a crowded church on a wooden pew. Everyone in the church stood up and turned around besides Jackson when the thick wooden doors slammed open. There was complete silence spare the click-clack of Clarence’s boots on the floor. Once Clarence was far enough away from the doors, everyone ran out. Leaving only Clarence. Jackson stood up and turned to face him. “You don’t look so good.” Said Jackson. “Well my gang beat me and left me for dead. Then-“ Clarence stopped talking. He began to spasm and twitch out of control. He fell onto Jackson and almost knocked him over. Jackson pushed Clarence away. Then Clarence said, “Then I was hit by a sandstorm, attacked by a rabid wolf, and had to walk back to civilization on foot.” Jackson laughed. “Rabid wolf, eh? So the rumors are true. The ol’ ghost of the west is going rabid. I reckon that makes you a kind of, living ghost, huh?” Clarence said nothing. He merely glared at Jackson with his furious red eyes. “We left you alive.” Said Jackson. “That was my mistake. But now I’m gonna put you down for good.” He reached in his holster and found nothing. His eyes widened and he looked in Clarence’s hand. Clarence was holding Jackson’s gun. “It was my last job, Jackson. I was going to retire and give the gang to you. But you went behind my back and betrayed me.” The pain in Clarence’s voice was obvious. It was hard for him to talk. The foam beginning to form didn’t help. It gave him a bit of a lisp. “We all would have been happy. But you ruined it. Now we’re all damned. Because of your selfishness. And your stupidity. I started this gang. Jackson. Now I’m gonna end it.” “Wait! Clarence! Don’t do this! Show mercy!” “Too late for mercy, Jackson.” Bang. Clarence threw Jackson’s gun towards the church door. Then he wobbled his way over to the front of the church and sat down in front of a wooden cross. He looked up and said, “Lord forgive me for the things I’ve done.” -Austin S.
19: Vigil From the back of the truck I saw him. He picked fruit off of the trees. I laid back in the baby blue Chevy pick-up truck bed. I watched as he brought a bag of them over and sat in the truck. He looked over at me and smiled. The sun fell in the sky to our left as we ate, dreamt, talked and laughed. As the sun fell and the moon rose, we kept watch over all the trees. Their limbs swayed with the wind. They danced. The stars came out from their caves; they shone the path for the moon. As we saw the sky shine, the breeze got cold. The trees were not in a dance with the wind now. Bumps on my arms rose. John laid in the bed of the truck with me. As I would shake he would wrap me with heat in the form of tanned arms. A peach crept to my lap from the tree above us as the tree shook. It was a peach with no spots or scars. It had come to my lap with no harm. As I bit its skin, juice ran down my chin. John took a bite from the side. Juice got all over our hands and face as we came to know the love of a peach with no flaw. When all we had was a peach pit, I threw it across the trees. “This time next year, we will have a tree of our own,” John said. He said it to the wind; I thought he had said other things. As it got ever more cold we wrapped up and let our souls to the wind, just for one night. -Rebeccah G. | -Rebeccah G.
20: Ballad Of 9/11 The House was very quiet, the news was up loud, I walked in the room, and saw buildings fall down. My mom was on the phone, Crying,tears,oozing, her eyes over flowed, Just what were we losing? As the second plane hit, she could take no more. She led me to my room, and then closed the door. As I sat in my room, didn't know what had happened, but all i could think, "It has to be tragic" - Rashad M
21: Curiosity Curiosity killed the cat, Curiosity cut my wrist, Curiosity shot the gun and made sure it wouldn't miss, I'm so sorry, You don't deserve this, Curiosity took the peace, Curiosity took the bliss, Curiosity took my first kiss, Do I deserve this? Curiosity says what things will be, My curiosity will be the end of me. - Sydney S.
22: Little baby boy little baby boy so sweet so innocent little baby boy so beautiful so sweet little baby boy so loving so happy little baby boy so funny so silly little baby boy so kind so youthful little baby boy so unique so special little baby brother forever love forever protection -Jasmine W
23: Muse Here you are my muse. Our love forever in use. If I were to shatter, and our hands should release, I believe I would fall onto my knees. Crash, bang, boom. Just like a deer in headlights. Shatter, psst, hiss is heard. His bones ache in pain, his knees gripped by the door. The sirens called for him. Slipping, he heard them. Floating peacefully with wings, high into the heavens. Angels will fly forever more, but here you are my muse. -Megan T. | -Sarah C.
24: Intertwined Lengthy ribbons of red streaming from her heart. No one would know her emotions had fled. Inside she felt alone torn up and broken. If only he knew, he used to be her home. He called her his world, and held her heart. His intentions seemed pure, and at first they were. Now all of their memories mean nothing to her. His heart and his hand, the only things she'd ever demand, slipped from her grip. -Megan T. | -Sarah C.
25: Best Season Summer Time warm breeze against your face daisy dukes, tanks and flip flops Summer Time children playing in the pool mother making ice cold lemonade beach vacations and road trips family gatherings,that you will miss Summer Time what a lovely time of the year -Lexi B | -Catherine P.
26: My Pants: A (m) ode to my pants My pants, I can hear them, Speaking to me; Hello, hello. Hello pants. Hello, hello. My pants are good; they are good pants - Until that fateful day. My pants turned against me, I was filled with dismay. My pants slaughtered my soul, Tortured my heart, I was sad, like a sad anole. Sad, sad, sad. Evil pants. Hello, hello. - -Lawson H.
27: Words The Emo, The Goth, The Scene, The Mean, They're all just words but what do they mean? A Cutter, A Killer, A Suicidal Freak, They're just words used to tease me, Words used by the weak, Broken, Lost, Thrown Away, Words I use to describe myself every day, They're just words it's not like they mean anything to anyone anyway. -Sydney S. | -Garrett D.
28: Wolf cry Sorrowful Mourning Echoing in the stillness of the night Snow rains from the cloudy, dreary night sky Heart reaching out to anyone who will listen No one answers to the cry Proceeding to howl The continuous crunching of the padded earth The forest conceals the cries of a wolf to no avail -Jessica S.
29: Tears Joyful tears A happy thought Angry tears When we first fought Loving tears When we meet once again Grieving tears When we are torn apart by the cold, relentless hands of death I no longer cry tears -Jessica S.
30: I'm exhausted with this whole break up scenario. i don't have the strength, well, mentally anyway. My brain and heart have collapsed and are now bleeding, and its becoming life-threatening and boring, like reading the history of blood platelets. those imminent little reed blobs touched kindly by the pitch of randomness, with the obsession of Jesus but have been rejected by God. Well i say Bull. This is not a spontaneous opera, this tradition of ours. Shot point blank without possibilities or emotions. I cant help but express these random acts, because soon it will bring about our doom. then thats it, K.O. no more painting bunnies, or beating around the bush, imagination is dead and its screaming and inflicting violence upon the boyhood of humanity. we are unlikely to survive this decade. -Audrey S
31: Mixed Bag We are all different in every way. From the color of our skin to the way we talk. From the way we dress to the way we walk. Different cultures and religions No one wants to be the same No one will ever be the same Diversity is what makes us who we are -Lexi B | -Sarah C.
32: The Kentucky House of an Eight Year Old's Grandma Who Loves Garage Sales and Buying in Bulk Sunflowers dance. They sway their heads, Drop their seeds Shine in the heat. Birds flew and chirped, landing on the clothes line. The garden glass globes shine. The gnomes sit by the lamp post. My hands imprint the 2004 pavement leading to the front porch. Heat rises from the street, makes waves before me. Sweat drips from my hair to my shirt. The porch swing creaks as it sways under me. The tomato in my hand is firm and ripe. Mimi’s garden burst this afternoon. A car was crawling by as a squirrel jumped, Blondie the cocker at my feet was whimpering a pitiful excuse for a bark. Tomato juice running down my chin, stained my white shirt. Judge Judy resounded throughout the house, Making her way to the porch with a murmur. A cacophony of cooking came from the 1970’s kitchen of knickknacks. The coo coo clock burst to the 2 o'clock tune. The tomato on my shirt roasted in the heat. The Kentuckiana air was filled with summer smells, Summer dances with a summer sun Shining down on me and my summer family. -Rebeccah G.
33: -Rebeccah G.
34: Diversity Many types of backgrounds Different types of culture Different kinds of language The world changes every one third -Rashad M | -Rebeccah G.
35: Us No two people are the same, Some are wild and some are tame, We all have different traits and ways, And those traits are here to stay. No two people are exactly alike, Some can’t read or ride a bike. Some people can’t choose or make a plan, While there are others out there who can. No two people have the same heart, Only certain people know how to make it restart. We each have different fingerprints, And each one leaves a certain dent. No two people are the same, Some are different and some are tame, All of our traits are here to stay, And that makes us different in every way. -Amy C.
36: Life, Love, and Loss I stare through glass Water racing down Falling across window panes Increasing is my pain. My heart, my life Left to pieces , Broken and shattered, My love left tattered. Cold and empty, I'm left alone. Surrounded by shadow, Solitude is my only foe. Love lost and gone, Life left pinched and drawn. -Emily T | -Rebeccah G.
37: The Symptoms of Love As she begins to blush She turns her face away As she gets butterflies She turns her face away As he is at loss with words He looks down at his feet As his palms become sweaty He looks down at his feet In the air is romance In their hearts is fear All they need is a push For their love to come near -Anna S.
38: Nature The breeze whispers in my ear As the ocean waves to the children near The sand burns their little feet And their ice-cream drops due to the heat The palm trees sway side-to-side As the seagulls in the air start to glide The sand dunes start to curl up Until the kids start to act up Oceans, waves are what you see Storms began to throw their hate So little kids begin to flee The beach calls “wait wait” And the little kids stand straight The ocean says “do not fear” The little kids turn near Then the bright, happy sun shines down Down to the kids who smile not frown. -Anna S.
39: It’s Friday! She sings “Friday, Friday,” when it is Wednesday, And eats sugar-coated cereal every morning – an unhealthy diet. All who are watching her cry out in agony when she utters, “We, we, we so excited.” “Improper grammar!” they yell, Yet she is relentless – “We gonna have a ball tonight.” All who hear tremble in fear as a middle-aged man Raps about, “R-B, Rebecca Black,” “Kicking in the front seat, In the back seat” Black thinks of herself as better than all others, Lecturing everyone that, "Yesterday was Thursday; Today is Friday," yet she cannot resolve a simple problem- Where to sit in a car. Even if she is hated by thousands, millions, She believes that it is "My Moment!" To her, everyone Every person, Every being that hates her, Is a "Person of Interest." But Rebecca Black will always, in her nasal voice, be "Partyin', Partyin'! (Yeah!)" -Taylor L.
40: Three Idioms -Riley S.
42: -Garrett D.
43: -Sarah C.
44: Gone in the Sand You wonder why I’m so sad and why the World is so bad. A missing child down in the sand. Where have all the children gone? Why can’t someone have a helping hand? Seeing the hot sun, loved the outdoors. Swinging at the park, Throwing the sand in the air. I was a happy little girl. Never really had a care. I always saw this strange man, selling candy. I’ve always wanted that piece of candy. Never knowing he didn't want a sell. He wanted me. He snatched me and ran as fast as he could. I screamed and cried as he held me close. Couldn't anyone see I needed help? But they just turned their heads the other way You wonder why I'm so sad and why the world is so bad. I’m a missing child down in the sand. Buried alive in the playground sand. Won't anyone find me? Or am I just gone in the sand? -Jasmine W.
45: -Catherine P.
46: -Garrett D.
47: -Garrett D.
48: Expensive This line is expensive, taking up a line, using, nay, wasting paper, leaving none behind. This line is expensive, paper doesn't grow on trees, it grows in big tall buildings we call factories. - -Audrey S.
49: The 2011-2012 Creative Writing class: Front: Anna, Emily, Megan Center: Brianna, Audrey, Lexi, Rebeccah, Rashad Back: Amy, Jessica, Kelsey, Austin, Jasmine Back Cover photograph by -Sarah C.