20131
Celebration of Excellent
Student Writing
Grades 1 to 12
Pen Strokes is a celebration of the work of Durham student writers in Grades 1 to 12. Student writers,
representing many schools across the region, participated by submitting examples of writing in
poetry, narrative and non-narrative texts.
This publication is an all-inclusive collection. It includes the voices of English language learners, French
Immersion students, and students with special needs. Although all work has been edited for clarity and
flow, every effort has been made to publish authentic student work in its original form.
In addition to this format, Pen Strokes honours the talent of our student writers and recognizes the hard
work and expertise of our teachers and parents.
www.penstrokes.ddsbschools.ca
Congratulations to all student writers!
Table of Contents
Grade 1
Aruba by Jack Van Volsen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
Cayo Coco, Cuba by Julia Calleri .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
Great Wolf Lodge by Ayva Chiusols.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Who Was Martin Luther King Junior? by Alannah Williams . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
Grade 2
First Bee Sting by Mackenzie Breitreutz .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
Le prentemps que je connais par Jade Hargrave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
Le prentemps que je connais par Nathan Roberts.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
Le prentemps que je connais par Zona Qureshi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
Le prentemps que je connais par Georgia Haufe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
Le prentemps que je connais par Izza Khan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
Grade 3
Dear Toys ‘R’ Us by Raiyann Jacob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
My Adventures with Kelly and Joey by Ella Silverman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
Peace by Jessica Galante . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
Peace by Austin Arbuckle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
Peace Agent by Shreya Lekhi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
Peace Agents by Emmalee Leighton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
These are My Amazing Ideas on How I’m Going to be a Peace Agent! by Vivek Manick . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
Grade 6
Christmas Yet to Come by Sophie Hofmann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
I Am a Peace Agent by Rayvel Arjoon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
It All Started by Colby teBoekhorst . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
My Recipe for Peace by Jared Ghanny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
Peace by Hope Wangalwa.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
Peace by Lindsay Hargreaves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
Recipe for Peace by Emma Mazzucco . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
Peace Recipe by Aneeqa Hamit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
Recipe for Peace by Hoda Younes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
The Ultimate Christmas Present by Sydney Desveaux . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
Grade 7
Graveyard by Maddi McAfee . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61
Legendary Greatness by Matthew Henry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
Got Spice? by James Pratt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
Swamp Chomp by Jake Underwood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
The Mystery of the Jewellery Thief by Claire McMullen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
The Wanderer by Daina Simanovskis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
Human Girl + Autism = Me by Julianna Santaguida . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Silenced Am I by Sage Hall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
Grade 8
Rant: Society/The Media by Rhiannon Passingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
Look at Me with Sorry Eyes but You Still Won’t Realize by Stepfanie Mojsovski . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
Untitled by Mykaelah Dixon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
A Bewildered Soul by Stepfanie Mojsovski . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
Alone by Keiralea Dominelli . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
Crystal Dreams by Alyssa Spridgeon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85
Empty by Gabrielle Kramer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
Here Kitty, Kitty by Natalie Barnett.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93
Journey to Freedom by Michelle Arshad and Helen Wang.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
Loneliness by Nicolas Santamaura . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
Opinion Piece: Stem Cell Research: Canada’s Future of Regenerative Medicine by Lillian Kasulis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
The Goal by Gabrielle Kramer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
The Sky Above is Falling by Kathryn Cole . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103
The Throne of the Royals by Humna Wasim . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108
Grade 12
Room 101 by Zoe Williams . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
Grade 1
www.penstrokes.ddsbschools.ca
Aruba
By Jack Van Volsen
I think Ms. Robb and Maddie should go to Aruba. First you can do exercises in the pool and
you might be able to get a room when you look out your window. Second, you can get food
and drinks in the pool and there is an arcade with lots of games. Third, when you eat lunch
near the pool there are birds flying around and the rooms are very nice because the beds are
comfortable, but the chairs are different. You would feel great because it is really warm.
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 1
5
Cayo Coco, Cuba
By Julia Calleri
I think Ms. Robb and Maddie should go to Cayo Coco Cuba. First you can do exercise in the
ocean and there is a snack bar in the pool where you can get smoothies. Second you can
watch entertainment. Plus you can even go on stage. And you get a big bed that’s very, very
comfortable. Third there’s even a snack bar at the beach where you can get refreshing drinks!!!
And it’s fun to lie in the shade under a palm tree!!! You would feel relaxed in Cayo Coco Cuba.
6
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 1
Great Wolf Lodge
By Ayva Chiusols
I think that you would like to go to Great Wolf Lodge. First you get to go on water slides with
your family. And second you get to stay in a nice hotel. Third you get to eat your favourite
cereal. Forth, you get to go on the spa I would feel surprised if I were at Great Wolf Lodge.
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 1
7
Who Was Martin Luther
King Junior?
By Alannah Williams
He was a Minister. He said, “Peace not war. Love not hate.” He believed that everyone was
equal. He was brave. He was a leader. He changed the way people thought about skin colour.
8
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 1
Grade 2
www.penstrokes.ddsbschools.ca
First Bee Sting
par Mackenzie Breitreutz
When I was four years old my mom told me if I ever saw any kind of bee to “stay still until the
bee is gone.” When I was five years old I still remembered what my mom had said.
One day my cute little sister and I were swinging on our two squeaky swings. All of a sudden
I saw a yellow and black striped bee. I told my sister Bailey to stay still but she was too scared.
Bailey ran and ran until I caught her. I told her to stay still again and this time she did. The bee
was coming straight at us like lightning! My cute little sister and I screamed. We then got stung
by the flying bee and we ran to our dad and it was all better!
10
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 2
Le prentemps que je connais
par Jade Hargrave
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Le prentemps que je connais
par Nathan Roberts
Continued
12
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Le prentemps que je connais
par Zona Qureshi
14
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 2
Le prentemps que je connais
par Georgia Haufe
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Le prentemps que je connais
par Izza Khan
Continued
16
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Grade 3
www.penstrokes.ddsbschools.ca
Dear Toys ‘R’ Us
By Raiyann Jacob
Dear Toys ‘R’ Us,
I have been studying gender stereotypes in Media Literacy and I looked at your toy flyer and
saw you separate girl toys and boy toys, but I don’t want you to do that. I want you to show girls
playing with boy toys and boys playing with girl toys in your flyer.
Firstly, if you change your toy flyer and show girls playing with boy toys and boys playing with
girl toys, kids might beg their parents to buy that toy. Their parents might listen, then come to
your store, buy that toy and you’ll get more money.
Secondly, if all the parents coming to your store to buy a doll for their son or a gun for their
daughter again and again, then your toy store might become the best toy store.
Finally, if Master Mind toys and Scholar’s Choice can show girls playing with boy toys and boys
playing with girl toys in their flyer why can’t you do it too? Maybe those two stores might steal
all your customers and become the best toy store.
So I really, really hope you change your flyer. Please make up your mind and when you have
made your decision please write a letter in reply.
Sincerely,
Raiyann
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 3
19
My Adventures with
Kelly and Joey
By Ella Silverman
Continued
20
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Continued
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Continued
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26
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Peace
By Jessica Galante
Continued
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Continued
28
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Peace
By Austin Arbuckle
Continued
30
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32
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Peace Agent
By Shreya Lekhi
Continued
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Continued
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Peace Agents
By Emmalee Leighton
Continued
36
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Continued
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These are My Amazing Ideas on
How I’m Going to Be A Peace Agent!
By Vivek Manick
Continued
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 4
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Continued
40
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 4
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Grade 6
www.penstrokes.ddsbschools.ca
Christmas Yet to Come
By Sophie Hofmann
Continued
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Continued
44
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Continued
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Continued
46
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 6
I Am a Peace Agent
By Rayvel Arjoon
Continued
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Continued
48
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It All Started
By Colby teBoekhorst
Continued
50
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51
My Recipe for Peace
By Jared Ghanny
52
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 6
Peace
By Hope Wangalwa
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 6
53
Peace
By Lindsay Hargreaves
54
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 6
Recipe for Peace
By Emma Mazzucco
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 6
55
Peace Recipe
By Aneeqa Hamit
56
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 6
Recipe for Peace
By Hoda Younes
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 6
57
The Ultimate Christmas Present
By Sydney Desveaux
The big black car was pulling up and Dad was about to hop in when I grabbed his arm. He looked
back and gave me and my brother Jacob a big hug and whispered to me, “I will be back soon.”
“In time for Christmas?” I whispered softly.
“Mm-hmm, I’ll even be home to decorate the Christmas tree!”
“Yesssssss!” My brother and I screeched.
Once he said goodbye to my Mom, he hopped into the car and rolled down the window and
waved from a distance. As the car drove away to take my dad to the airport to fly to Switzerland
for a business meeting I realized It was just going to be me and Jacob and my mom for the 4 days
before Christmas, and in California you don’t really get a white Christmas, but since we lived there
we had to learn to deal with it. The next day my best friend Mikayla rang my doorbell and when
I opened the door she was wearing a red and white Christmas hat and a woven green and red
sweater, “Very festive” I said.
“Cute right,” Mikayla giggled cheerfully.
“So do you want to come in?” I asked.
“Yeah sure,” Mikayla said as she took her boots off. We raced upstairs to my bedroom. Just as
we walked in the door, Mikayla propped herself on my bed like she owned the place. We started
talking about what we wanted for Christmas, I said I wanted a puppy and a phone. Mikayla was
asking for a new purse and volleyball, then my Mom knocked on the door and when I opened it my
Mom stood with a platter of cookies freshly baked “Thanks Mom” I said with a grin. I closed the
door as my Mom walked away. I hopped back on my bed beside Mikayla and turned on the TV. It
was the weather channel, and there was the weather man telling the wind temperatures for B.C.,
then he switched over to a major snowstorm in Switzerland that was delaying all the flights in and
out of the country. When I heard the news I raced downstairs, leaving Mikayla and the cookies all
alone in the bedroom. When I got down the stairs I yelled “Mom! Mom! Dad won’t be home for
Christmas because of that snowstorm!”
“I’m afraid not,” said my Mom with a gloomy voice, “It’s just going to be you, me and Jacob” then
Jacob ran down the stairs,
“I heard my name, what’s up?” Jacob said with a puzzled look on his face.
“Dad’s not coming home for Christmas” I blurted out.
Continued
58
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 6
Jacob looked at Mom, “Is it true?” Jacob said with an expression of sadness.
“I’m afraid so Jacob” said his mother. Jacob ran upstairs crying, and I followed him also tearing up,
“It’s ok Jacob, maybe Dad will be home for Christmas.”
“Really?” said Jacob with hope in his eyes. Jacob and I and even Mikayla all sat on my bed in silence.
It was the day of Christmas Eve, I was decorating my room for the coming Christmas. Jacob was
still sulking on his bed from the news from last night. My Mom knocked on my door and then
walked in slowly, She said she had news from Dad “Your father just called and he wanted to tell you
to have a Merry Christmas and that he will see you on the 27th of December.”
I stood in my room looking like I saw a ghost, “Ally?” my mom said, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing” I said with an unmentionable look on my face, “Tell him to have a Merry Christmas
too,” my Mom walked out of the room and closed the door. It was 8:00 p.m. and Jacob and I hung
our stockings and decorated the Christmas tree. At 9:30 p.m. we went to bed hoping that Santa
would come and bring Christmas joy.
I dreamed about sugar plums and dancing nutcrackers. The morning of Christmas day I woke up
and ran down the hall to get Jacob to go down to open all the presents, but when I looked over
the railing there was none “No presents?” I whispered. Jacob walked out of his room with his eyes
barely open he was so sleepy “I heard the thumping of your feet, did Santa come?” Jacob asked,
“See for yourself” I said in disappointment. Jacob raced down the stairs, and when he saw the
empty Christmas tree his mouth dropped open, then I noticed that there was one little card with
a box attached to it. I walked towards it and grabbed it from the tree branches. The card read “Ally
and Jacob there are no presents under the tree because I decided to give you the most grand gift of
all, a wish, Love Santa” I put down the card and picked up the box. On the outside it said “Ring it
and you will get a wish!”
“It must be a bell,” I said. I was about to ring the bell inside but as I picked it up, my Mom walked
down the stairs in her robe and walked over to Jacob and I sitting by the Christmas tree studying
the bell “What are you guys doing? and where are all the presents from Santa?” asked my Mom,
“There’s only one present, it says to ring it and we will get a wish,” I said with a devilish grin.
“Well what are we going to wish for?”Jacob chirped in. We all huddled in a group and whispered
our ideas for the wish. After about one minute we had decided on a wish.
I walked over to the bell and hung it in the air and rang it. Jacob and I and my Mom wished that
Dad would come home for Christmas and we could spend it together. About 10 minutes later the
big black car my Dad left in arrived in the driveway, “Dads home” I yelled with joy. We all ran
outside and greeted my dad jumping up and hugging him like he was never there. “This is the
ultimate Christmas present” said Jacob,
“It sure is!”I said with a grin!
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 6
59
Grade 7
www.penstrokes.ddsbschools.ca
Graveyard
By Maddi McAfee
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 7
61
Legendary Greatness
By Matthew Henry
62
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 7
Got Spice?
By James Pratt
One day in AWESOME TOWN, there was a man who was quite ordinary, except for the fact
that he… was… BATMAN!!! But Batman wasn’t Batman until he used the magical powers of…
OLD SPICE BODY WASH, DEODORANT AND OTHER MANLY OLD SPICE PRODUCTS!!! If
you want to be awesome follow me on my OLD SPICE journey. You will get the full experience
including OLD SPICE’S history, interesting facts and an analysis of one of their commercials.
OLD SPICE is so inefficient that one of their videos of 30 seconds it took 57 takes. I would
have thought their inventor William Lightfoot of 1934 would have wanted a more proficient
company. With an array of over 20 different slogans that are all copyrighted, OLD SPICE makes
over millions of dollars a year. With their ping pong marketing plans they had millions of views
and likes on YouTube and Facebook. This was their plan:
It established brand equity on TV with fantastic content.
Ping.
Then it extended the compelling story to Facebook and Twitter
Pong.
And to Digg, Reddit, and several other smaller ponds
Ping.
Whose users went to the big YouTube pond to see the videos
Pong.
Where they experienced a level of a brand’s personal attention and engagement that has rarely,
if ever, been seen before
Ping.
And then tweeted and commented like crazy about it
Pong.
Which garnered coverage for the campaign on television, in print, and on radio, making Old
Spice, your grandfather’s brand of deodorant, national news.
Continued
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 7
63
(Vaynerchuk, Gary. Old Spice Man Marketing, Redux: What Went Right--and What Did NotFast Company. http://www.fastcompany.com/1737010/old-spice-man-marketing-redux-whatwent-right-and-what-did-not. 09,11,2012.)
The purpose OLD SPICE initiates is to try to persuade mediocre folk like us, to take an interest
in their company and buy their products. Other reasons OLD SPICE tries to get us to use their
products is to sell enough to beat out other companies and also just to make a great selling and
smelling body wash and products. So with body wash and deodorant OLD SPICE would have to
be aiming the product at anywhere from 12 (when you start to need it) to about 75 when you
don’t give a turkey’s butt how you smell.
Hot, muscular guys are only one of the many elements OLD SPICE uses to persuade us to buy
their products. These guys are used to appeal guys and girls, the attractive guy attracts girls
and there is the envy of wanting to be a guy like that for dudes. Also OLD SPICE has recently
been using elements that are impossible like getting hit by a car going 80 km/h and keep
talking like nothing happened.
The main explicit message is that if you are an OLD SPICE dude you have beastly and godly
powers to save the universe from smell! The implicit messages are that he had enough strength
to punch a vending machine wide open and that a normal guy can be changed into an OLD
SPICE dude.
I think OLD SPICE is a really great company in the fact that they have really original ideas like
a guy who can turn a guy into a vending machine to get chips anytime he wants. I also conclude
that OLD SPICE had an effective ad campaign and will go on to much greater things.
64
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 7
Swamp Chomp
By Jake Underwood
Swamp Chomp
Down the road
In a home for the toads
There’s a swamp
With a sign in bloody font.
Down there
Something may give you a scare…
It is 50 feet long
The size of King Kong
It has glowing white eyes
Double your size
It has 4 sharp fins
Made to cut through tin
It emerges up late
To decide its prey’s fate
It is the
SWAMP
CHOMP
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 7
65
The Mystery of the Jewellery Thief
By Claire McMullen
It was a crisp fall day in Clear Water Valley. The wind howled loudly and the leaves crunched
under the feet of 18 year old Katelyn Sherrwood. She and her best friend Abby Jackson were
walking home from school. Kate was a tall brunette always looking for adventure. She loved to
help her dad, Mr. Sherrwood, as he was a professional detective. She had even picked up some of
her own cases along the way. Abby was a bright girl always looking for trouble.
“How did you score on our math test?” asked Kate
“Good enough to make the honour roll,” Abby replied with a hint of sadness in her voice.
“What’s wrong?” asked Kate.
“Nothing,” said Abby but she was obviously lying.
“Seriously Abby, what’s up?”
“Listen Kate, since you’re my best friend I guess I can tell you but this has to stay between you
and me. If anyone else finds out I may be arrested.”
Kate stopped dead in her tracks and stared into the innocent eyes of her best friend, Abby
Jackson. “Just come with me.” Said Abby.
Kate said not a word, but followed Abby up the steps of her front porch and down the hall to
Abby’s room. She shut the door silently making sure to make no noise at all.
“You girls want a snack up there?” called Abby’s mom from the kitchen. “We’re fine,” said Abby in
a dead serious tone.
“It all started a few days ago while I was walking downtown to pick up a few groceries for my
mom from the market. I picked up what I needed and was on my way home. Just before I passed
by Janie’s Jewellery store, a girl came running out of the store with bags of jewellery in her hands.
We both stopped, dropped our things and stared. We were identical. “She was robbing the store!”
I thought to myself. We heard sirens and both of us ran. If I am seen in public, someone might
mistake her for me and I’ll be sent to jail for life. Oh Kate, you have to help me!”
Kate was deep in thought. “How could they be identical? That’s impossible unless they’re related
or more so, twins!”
“Kate?” said Abby.
Continued
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“Oh sorry! I was just thinking. Anyway, do you know anything else about the robbery? Did
anyone see? Would people recognize you as the thief?”
“Sorry Kate, but as soon as I saw her, my mind went blank. I couldn’t think straight.”
“It’s O.K., I’ll tell my dad everything you told me. Then I’ll run down to Police Headquarters and
ask to check the files to see if any look just like you.”
“That’s great! I’m so glad that I told you, but what do I do if someone thinks I’m the thief? How
can I go out in public or even go to school?”
“Just go on with your life. If anyone gets an idea about you being the thief just stay calm and tell
me as soon as you can. They can’t go anywhere without proof.”
“Thanks Kate!”
“I better get going home. I’ll call you if I find anything from the files down at the station,”
“You’re the best. See you soon!” called the worried girl.
Abby waved goodbye to her best friend.
Kate drove home to tell her father all she had learned. On the way she decided to stop by Janie’s
Jewellery to ask about the theft.
“Hi. I’m Janie. How may I help you?” said the desk clerk.
“Listen, I’m here to inquire about a theft you’ve had recently. I’m Kate Sherrwood, amateur
detective,”
“Ah yes. I’ve seen you in the newspaper. I’d prefer if we talked about it in the back. Come on in,”
The little old lady with vibrant red hair led her into the back room and poured her a cup of tea.
“It all started with a mysterious couple came in the night before. They asked too many questions
about the most expensive pieces in my store. The next day, just as I was arriving, a girl with long
blond hair came running out with two bags filled with jewellery. She had taken all the most
expensive things she had asked about the night before. I’ll never forget her piercing brown eyes.
When I got in my store I called the police right away. The place was a mess.”
“You’ve done a very good job cleaning this place up then Janie.”
“Thank you! We’ve had a lot of volunteers that have helped,” said the sweet old lady.
“Would you recognize the thief if you saw her?” Kate questioned.
“Oh definitely. I can’t get the face out of my head. You know, Kate, I may have something you
would find interesting.”
Continued
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 7
67
Janie got up and walked over to the bureau across the room. She opened the top drawer and
pulled out a small object.
“I found this the morning of the theft, after the police had made their search.”
In her hands Janie held a small slip of paper. In crude handwriting it read, “QVDVOOVIB
QFMTOV 20:00”.
Chapter 2
“Take it with you. See if you can decipher it.”
“Oh thank you Janie. I’ll show it to my dad. He’ll be sure to figure it out.”
“No problem.”
Janie thanked the woman and told her she would keep her updated. With that, she took off for
police headquarters.
“Hi Kate!” said the big strong voice of Chief Collins.
He had become good friends with Kate as he had helped her on her many mysteries.
“What can I do for you?” he said.
“I was wondering if I could check some criminal files,” said Kate.
“Sure thing,” said Chief Collins as he led her over to a shelf filled with files. He handed her a book
and said,” There are pictures and names in here. When you find the one you’re looking for, just
look up his name in the files and it’ll give you all the information we have.”
“Thanks Chief!” said Kate as he walked away.
Kate stared at the book. It had over 500 pages in it. “If I’m going to get through all of these, I’m
going to need some help” she said to herself. Kate called up her father and asked if he could come
and help. She explained the whole case and why she was there. He agreed and said that he would
be there as soon as possible.
When Mr. Sherrwood arrived, Kate was already halfway through the box.
“Any luck?” said the tall handsome detective.
“Nothing yet,” she said as she handed him the enormous book.
“I’ll stay here and look through the rest of the book. Why don’t you go show Abby that note you
found. I’ll take a look at it when I’m done,” said Mr. Sherwood.
“Great idea dad! I’ll invite her over and I’ll show you when you get home,”
She waved goodbye to her father and went on her way to call her best friend. Abby was eager to
Continued
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find out what she had learned and drove over right away.
“Anything new Kate?” asked Abby.
“Well, I went over to Janie’s Jewellery and I inquired about the theft. While I was there she gave
me this.”
In her hands Kate held the slip of paper with the odd message on it.
“Janie thinks the thief dropped it,” stated Kate.
Abby studied the paper for a while and then said, “What does it mean?”
“I’m not sure about the letters, but I think 20:00 is a time on the 24 hour clock which means 8:00
p.m. I think this message is a meeting place and a time but I’ll get my dad to make sure just as
soon as he gets home,” said the young sleuth.
Just that minute the phone rang. Kate got up to answer it.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hi Kate,” said the kindly voice of her father on the other end.
“I need you down here right away. I’ve found who you’re looking for. Don’t bring Abby. See you
when you get here.”
She heard a click and the line went dead.
“I’ve gotta go,” said Kate. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon,”
Abby agreed and Kate took off for Police Headquarters. There she found her father with a worried
look on his face.
“What did you find dad?” asked his daughter.
“Look,” he said and handed her the book. Kate gasped. It was like looking at a photo of her best
friend only this girl’s name was Cannda Jensen.
Chapter 3
“Wow,” said Kate
“Go look up her name in the files Kate,” said Mr. Sherrwood.
Kate got up and looked under the letter J. Sure enough she found Jenson and brought back the
folder to her father.
He read aloud.
“She was in jail for 2 years for shoplifting a store. She is an orphan and is 18 years of age.”
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Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 7
69
“Jenson is so close to Jackson. It’s possible they’re related,” stated Kate.
“Good deduction sweetie but we can’t jump to conclusions,” said the professional detective.
“Why don’t you go back and show this to Abby. I’ll photo copy the page to take home,”
When Mr. Sherrwood was finished copying the page, they both drove home together. Kate took
Abby, who was at home waiting, up to her bedroom. She gave her the pages and let her read them.
Abby looked faint.
“Are you O.K. Abby?” asked Kate
“I’ll be alright for now but what should we do!”
“Why don’t we ask your mom if—”
“No,” Abby interrupted.
“Why can’t we ask your mom anything?” questioned Kate.
“She might think I’ve committed the theft. She won’t believe me,” Abby pleaded.
“But what if she knows about some relative of yours named Cannda?”
“We can ask that when we have more evidence that I am not the thief. End of discussion.” Abby
said firmly.
“I have a swell idea,” said Kate. “How about we go to the mall to get your mind off the mystery?”
“Sounds fun. Let’s go right away!” said Abby.
So the two girls took off for the mall.
“Where shall we go first?” asked Abby.
“I was thinking we could have some lunch. I’m starved,” said the hungry girl.
“I hear there’s a new diner called, “Little Frillies”. Should we try it out?”
“Why not?”
As the two girls made their way towards the diner, a large burly man bumped into Abby. He
glanced back at her.
“Hey Can,” said the stranger. He was talking to Abby.
“See you tonight at eight,” he said and carried on.
“Who was that?” said Kate.
“I have no idea,” said Abby who was obviously baffled.
Continued
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“He must have thought you were Cannda!” said Kate excitedly.
“He called you Can, right?” she asked.
“Ya,” said Abby.
“And he said,” See you at eight.” That is the time on the note we found at Janie’s! Abby, we have to
go back. If my dad can figure out if the words on the note are a meeting place, we might be able to
catch Cannda, that man and whoever else is in on it! Come on, we’ve got no time to lose!”
Chapter 4
The two girls jumped in the car and drove as quickly as the law would let them all the way home,
and pulled into the Sherrwoods’ driveway. Kate ran inside.
“Dad!?!” she yelled into the house.
“Yes,” came a faint reply from the basement.
Kate ran downstairs and found her father sitting at his desk reading the newspaper.
“Dad, I need you to tell me what this note means as quickly as you can.”
Kate slapped the note down on his desk.
Mr. Sherrwood studied the note for a while then said, “It’s a simple code, really, where each letter
is the opposite letter in the alphabet backwards.”
Mr. Sherrwood drew a chart:
“For example, the word CAT would be changed to XZG. See, in my chart, if you go to the letter
C, under it is X, and when you go to A, under it is Z. If you use this code for the message on your
note it would read, “Jewellery Jungle 8:00””.
“Jewellery Jungle!” exclaimed Kate and Abby at the same time.
“That’s the name of a jewellery store just north of here! We must call the police and tell them to
surround the area,” said Kate.
“I’m on it sweetie.”
Mr. Sherrwood dialed 911 and told the police everything that had happened.
“We’re on our way,” said Chief Collins.
“Everyone in the car,” said Mr. Sherrwood.
Continued
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 7
71
“We’ll meet the police there.”
The drive there was long and suspenseful. When they arrived, the area was flooded with blue
and red lights. The trio ran up to the doors of the Jewellery Jungle. Inside there were tons of
policeman holding two men and one woman in handcuffs: Cannda, the man from the mall and a
man Kate did not recognize. Kate ran up to Chief Collins.
“What happened?” asked Kate.
“Well, when we arrived, these three were about to skip out but we caught them just in time.”
Kate looked at Abby. She hadn’t spoken since they’d got here. She was staring at Cannda, who had
been caught and cuffed. Together, you couldn’t tell who was who.
“Would you like to talk to her?” asked Chief Collins.
Abby nodded.
She walked over to Cannda.
“Hi,” she said in a quiet, nervous voice.
“I saw you at Janie Jewellery,” Cannda said in an annoyed tone.
“I know. I say you too,” said Abby.
“Why… do we look so alike?” Abby stuttered.
“How should I know?” said Cannda as she was led away.
On the way home Abby said, “Thank you for helping me Kate. No one has ever gone to so much
trouble for me.”
“No problem. I just can’t understand how you two look so similar. When we get home, can we ask
your mom?”
“Sure thing,” answered Abby.
Mr. Sherrwood dropped them off at Abby’s house and went home. When the girls got in, they
found Mrs. Jackson seated at the kitchen table. They said, “Hello,” and slowly explained the whole
case and how the two looked so alike. By the time they were done, Mrs. Jackson was as white as a
ghost.
“What’s wrong?” asked Abby.
“Abby, dear. I’ve never told you this before, but Cannda is related to you. She’s your twin.”
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The Wanderer
By Daina Simanovskis
While everyone sits,
one person walks…
The Wanderer
He paces around
looking for nothing in particular.
Every so often he stops to talk,
or pretends to write,
but he’s not fooling anyone.
for after a while he is told to sit
and his pacing is put to an end.
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 7
73
Human Girl + Autism = Me
By Julianna Santaguida
As you guessed from the title, I am a girl first, who happens to be autistic, not an autistic girl. Having
autism doesn’t define who I am. It’s a part of who I am, just like my uncontrollably curly hair is part
of me, too.
I was 18 months when I was diagnosed. My parents knew something was different with me because
I wasn’t pointing, talking verbally, and I wasn’t turning my head when my name was called. It was
as almost as if I couldn’t hear my parents! They took me to lots of doctors and had lots of tests done
on me. The doctors even measured my head and did blood tests on me. Remember, I was still a baby
when this happened! Finally, my doctors diagnosed me with autism.
I feel lots of things when it comes to me having autism. I feel that I shouldn’t tell anyone about
me having autism. I feel this way because when I see people treating the kids in the MAC class
differently, or mocking what the “special” kids do, I think, “They could be mocking me if I told people
I have autism.” I also feel happy I have “overcome” my autism. I put overcome in quotation marks
because it will always be a part of me, but I have worked REALLY hard so it doesn’t show.
Working hard meant spending 40 hours a week practicing how to do things normally. I also used
flash cards, and when I got one right, I would get a treat. They started out being M&M’s, but I took
too long eating those, so I had corn twists instead, hence my love for them today!!! I remember a
woman whose name is Susan. She would come over to my house and she would bring flash cards and
toys for me to play with. She would try to teach me to share with toys such as a Mr. Potato Head. I
still talk and spend time with her, but just for fun. I even work at her store, Little Acorn!!!
I also have plans for the future to go to University of Guelph and become a successful vet. I will not
let my autism get in the way, just like any time before!!!
The End… not quite yet.
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Silenced Am I
By Sage Hall
Silenced am I
You will not see;
Without a voice;
You will not care;
Forced am I
For all those children
Without a choice;
Lying there,
To hunt and kill
They make no difference;
These rebels strong
In the end you say.
To shoot their voice,
They can die
To stop their song.
And waste away.
I serve within
Our world can fall,
Your mighty fleet
We all can die,
With shaking arms
While bombs are bursting
And little feet;
In the sky;
I am still small
No one looks
I have not grown
No one sees
A child sold
Us child soldiers
To serve your throne.
Never freed.
And one day soon
Silenced am I
I know I will
Without a voice;
Receive a shot
Forced am I
That’s meant to kill.
Without a choice;
And as I lie there
To hunt and kill
Wasting away
These rebels strong
Will you care?
To shoot their voice,
What will you say?
To stop their song.
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 7
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Grade 8
www.penstrokes.ddsbschools.ca
Rant: Society/The Media
By Rhiannon Passingham
“Would you rather have cake, or a flat stomach? Chocolate or abs? Sweets or a gap between your
thighs?”
Since when has the latter of all previous questions been deemed important by society? The
media has an enormous effect on the public, and anyone who disagrees has probably been
living under a rock for the past 40 years. Ever since stick-skinny models with perfect hair
had been depicted on almost every ad, eating disorders have increased greatly, all because the
victims of these ads feel inadequate. Now; that’s not to say every skinny girl has anorexia, or
every thin boy makes himself throw up.
An article on Yahoo! Voices quoted this to explain a majority of America’s view on personal
appearance;
“The perfect abs, chest, and thighs of models and celebrities are coveted assets. Anything less is
undesirable and ugly.”
Anything. Less. Is. Undesirable. And ugly. For the time being, I’ll just disagree with Vanilla
Ice and say anything less than the best is not a felony. Now, 95% of females diagnosed with
an eating disorder are between the age of 12 and 25. But, let’s not forget; diseases don’t
discriminate. 12.5 percent of the 8 million people in the U.S with eating disorders are men. I
believe these eating disorders come from the rise in super-thin women, courtesy of Twiggy in
the 60’s, and incredibly buff men, such as Arnold Schwarzenegger (four time Mister Universe
winner, seven time Mr. Olympia winner), being regarded as ‘perfect’. Although, being skinny
doesn’t always mean you’re healthy.
But why do we have to take society’s word on everything? Who decided what was pretty and
what wasn’t? Sure, you’ll be attracted to different men/women, but why can’t we see a huge
variety of people modeling in ads? Why can’t we use bigger girls? Or guys with imperfect faces?
Why do they have to be attractive? Looks aren’t everything, so why do we care so much?
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 8
77
Look at Me with Sorry Eyes but
You Still Won’t Realize
By Stepfanie Mojsovski
Chapped lips,
Cold feet,
Sitting at the end of the street,
No one knows how hard it is to live alone.
I beg for life,
They give me nothing at all.
I wonder when my life will change.
As the people walk in from another street,
They look at me like I’m out of life,
I’m dead, cold and hungry.
They look at me with pleading eyes,
But little do they realize,
They take their life for granted.
They’ve got warm shoes,
Clothes too,
Clean and fresh,
With a mother’s touch,
I wonder where my mama is,
Is she fine? Sparkling in the sky?
I bet she’s warmer and living better than I.
I see children screaming for little toys,
Mama’s hitting their little boys,
People wanting more than they should have.
Little do they realize all I’ve got is my crumbling mind.
I see that I cannot live no further,
My feet are getting colder,
My voice is growing number,
I starve in the cold hoping that the sky accepts me better than the world.
And as the people walk in from another street,
They see me lie asleep.
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Untitled
By Mykaelah Dixon
Sitting against a thick towering oak you could spot a girl, alone, watching the storm clouds
rolling in. The harsh wind blowing her light curly blonde hair to half shield the pained
expression on her face.
If you look close enough you can see one sparkling tear betray her solid wall of emotion as she
stared into oblivion. It was followed by another, and her eyes became like glassy mirrors as her
control was ebbing away. Slowly at first the tears came, starting with that one small droplet
escaping her eyes, closely followed by a steady flow coming down quickly. Like spilling ink, they
trail permanent scars down her face. The warm tears poured down her cheeks, dripping onto
her muddy knees and forming slight wet marks on her pant legs.
She curled them closer to her body, grasping her legs tight to her body and sobbing hard. As
if she could actually shield herself from the world; that maybe if she could get away from it
all her pain would stop. It had to stop. The pure agony, like a million white hot knives were
burrowed under her skin, just out of reach of the ability to be pulled out. Does she even want
to be able to pull them out? Can’t she just dissolve in the pain that is slowly eating a larger
hole through her every moment she still lives? Her face was buried in her knees, muffling her
quiet sobs of anguish.
It wasn’t until the first droplet of water struck her face that she looked up, her face tear
stained and eyes red and puffy. She just looked up into the sky as if to ask why. Why he did
this to himself, why she had to go through all of this. Wondering what she did to destroy her
happy ending.
She already knew it though. None of it was supposed to work out for her, from the moment
she met him she knew it was going to end like this. There was no avoiding it, it had to happen
and you could read it in her face, along with hurt. She had made the fatal mistake, taken in the
poison knowingly; she succumbed to the deception of hope. Hope that it would all turn out,
that for once in her life she was wrong. She knew it was all a lie, as if a simple thought could
change the mass events of life. It was stupid of her to even believe in such a thing as hope. She
sees it now; hope destroys.
With a shaky breath she whispered something into the air, her eyes so dead and broken that
she almost didn’t exist anymore. The tree branches swayed violently above her, the creak of
the wooden limbs the only thing to console her. Again her mouth moved, the large raindrops
falling around her splashing against the hard dry ground.
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Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 8
79
“Why did you do this?” Her voice was shaky, like she was a thin glass wall trying to fend off a
rain of bullets. You could hear the low call of thunder in the distance, as if nature was echoing
the breaking point of her aching heart. “You knew I loved him. You knew I needed him. He even
knew I needed him. Why did you take him from me?” Her question was met with still air, not
even a whistle of wind to carry it off into waiting ears. “Why did he take himself from me?”
Silence. It swallowed her, filling her lungs and suffocating whatever will she had left.
Suddenly she threw back her head and screamed into the open. The sound ripped through the
air, echoing through the whole forest, desperately trying to reach the ears that aren’t there.
All the emotion in her came out in one big explosion of sound; Anger, sadness, confusion,
hopelessness.
“I CAN’T!” Her body started to tremor, her tears like crystalline waterfalls pouring down her
face. She forced her face into her knees once more, her whole body shaking as she cried.
“I need him... ” She said in a quiet voice, sounding lost and defeated. The hope that had once
glimmered in her eyes was torn from her being, leaving her finished. Just a grey blur of a
person in the background of a painting. Nothing more than paint on a canvas. She whispered
something almost inaudible, silent to anything and everything around her.
“Help me.”
It was the only sound she made before her colour faded out completely and she became just
another figure in a picture. More than nothing, but not quite something. Maybe that was what
she was all along. Her eyes closed slowly, never to be opened to see the same way again.
In taking his own soul away from this world, he took another into the swirling blur of complete
emptiness.
Then I blinked and it was all gone. The dark image that had been cast out like a movie in
her eyes was pushed aside and covered up once more. Replaced with nothing but cold and
emptiness; a blank stare. The empty shell of a girl smiled at me.
“I’m fine” She said simply and walked away, floating like a ghost, her purpose lost.
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A Bewildered Soul
By Stepfanie Mojsovski
The clock ticks slowly,
Time creeps fast,
Urgently I wait,
My breath at a weird pace,
Intimidation,
I want to run forever out of this drowning nightmare,
For eternity,
But where would I go?
Where would I hide?
I would just fall, far, far behind.
The fog is thick,
The road is slick,
I endlessly trip,
Every person sees me fail,
I know what I want and that’s not what I want to be.
That picturesque landscape doesn’t exist,
Every story, it’s all fiction.
Realism is almost hard to conquer,
When you live in a world where perfect is the conqueror,
The flawless rule this undeserving world,
They know what they want to be so they fly and cry till they become their dreams.
It will all make sense one day,
If you think about it in a clear way,
But when you think too much your thoughts take over in a scary way,
They’re almost stuck in a cloud,
Dark gray,
Just sit and think about your life for a second,
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81
For a change.
You’re upset,
Drowning,
Trapped in a box full of emotion,
Everyone else is above the water,
Swimming,
You’re the one that’s not smiling at all good in the world,
It’s not because you can’t take the pain of cold words,
You do have so much to gain,
It’s not because you’re not content with the cruel citizens of sorry souls,
It’s because you expect too much from life while everyone else sits back and fondly accepts
what comes at them.
It’s all simple really,
Maybe one day your bewildered soul will understand.
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Alone
By Keiralea Dominelli
Prologue
The lighting in the barn is so poor I can barely make the dark figure that approaches me.
Sounds of crickets chirping assures me that its night. She picks up my small, limp, under
nourished body and carries me out into the cold wet night. The street lights are dimmed, the
road is shiny as if it stopped raining seconds before. A breeze picks up and leaves behind a chill
on my fair bare arms. She wraps me in her heavy wool sweater and tucks me gracefully in her
arms. She takes small docile steps down the deserted city street, occasionally kissing me on
the forehead. I was not sure who this woman was and why she had such an unconditional love
for me, but I felt safe in her arms and I wanted to stay there for all of eternity. She points out
small things that a young child might find amusing, like bright lights or cars passing by. It feels
like we have been walking for hours, and I love every second of it. My fantasy comes to a halt
when she rests me on the cold wet pavement step, soiling her sweater. She rests her lips on my
forehead, her warmth comforts me. I am disappointed when she finally lets me go. She steps
carefully around me and hesitantly rings the doorbell. She comes in so close I can feel her warm
breathe radiates heat all over my body. “Good bye my baby girl “she whispers in my ear, slightly
kissing me at the same time. I watch her walk off into the intimidating darkness of the night. A
tear falls out of my small blue eyes and trickles down my plump rosy cheeks. My eyes abruptly
turn and focus on a young woman, clearly disoriented from her recent awaking. Her motherly
instinct makes her pull me up and swaddle me in her soft arms and carry me inside.
Years pass, my life seems to go slow. I grow up in an orphanage with many other girls and
boys. But none of them were like me. The nuns just think I’m advanced, but they don’t know
what I know. Why do I remember being five months old and being dropped off here? Why am
I three years old and can recite my multiplication tables by heart? I am special, at least that is
what mother Lisa told me. I believed her. She always knows what was best for me. She was like
the mother I never had. Or once had more years pass, now all of us are sent to a poor public
elementary school. Glimsdale. Even sounds ghetto. The school was grungy with 15 year old text
books and ancient technology. I walk to school on the muddy dirt road while the rest of the
kids took the bus. I had no friends. I wasn’t just that though, there were too many loud minds
in the at once. I didn’t like knowing everyone’s secrets. I prefer to be by myself. But being at
school was better than being at the orphanage; there I’m slow out shined. Every time I came
home and got an A+, I would run as fast as I could up the stairs to mother Lisa. But Veronica
was already there showing off her A++. The gut wrenching disappointment I face daily was
Continued
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 8
83
enough to kill a normal person. But I am not normal. By the end of my 13th year of life all the
girls my age had been adopted. I knew I had no chance, every time I went to an interview with
a young couple looking to have a pretty young lady added to their family, I just scare them off.
My intelligence intimidates them. They don’t know why I know what they had for breakfast
that morning. But I do. Because I’m not normal.
Finally I reach the legal age to live on my own. To start again, by myself. I rent out a dirty small
apartment just in the outskirts of New York. I get a job at the local deli shop and make just
enough to keep a roof over my head and food in my mouth. I enjoy my life though: I make small
connections with my customers, never enough to establish an in-dept relationship but enough
to make me feel like I have a purpose. One day my life comes to a miserable stop when I see the
demon in her perfect form enter the shop. Her Pravda sun glasses cover majority of her flawless
face. I recognize Veronica, puberty has done her well. Her immaculate figure intimidates me.
My dark brown hair that drapes daintily over my left eye looks black compared to her bleach
blonde hair, she turns her head around and shouts for her mother. I’m not going to make I
contact. No way can she find out that this is where I ended up. I hear the chimes of the shop
door opening; a woman enters, nearly tripping on the broken tiles.
What happens next makes my heart stop. I am suddenly lost, for words, for sight anything.
I feel nothing. My mind I brought forcefully back to that night. *I grab onto the soiled wool
sweater, I look up and see the face that must have been my mother*. My heart immediately
sinks when my memory matches the woman I front of me to the woman from my past. Hate fill
threw my veins. Burning was all I felt. I stormed out of the store so fast I wouldn’t be surprised
if I left skid marks. The woman I recognized to be my mother calls after me. I don’t turn back.
No way. There is no way. Over the years I have learned to use my powers. I can now throw
I sky scraper with nothing but my brain and read all of the minds of the pathetic petrified,
scamming people inside. So that’s what I do. I ruin the city that was once called “New York”.
Thousands are homeless, millions are dead. The United States is put into a national security
warning. No one can stop me. Many try, but they only die. I feed on people’s misery, something
people did to me ever since I was young. I turn into an animal. I do have a threat. Her name is
Veronica. She may not be special like me but her sickening kindness and advanced technology
will find a way to beat me. She’s always been better than me. What will stop her now?
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Crystal Dreams
By Alyssa Spridgeon
Upon the windswept hill overlooking the mandala spanning for as far as the eye can see, you
can sense the presence of the unknown and magical held within it. The crooked trees and
overgrown plants scattering the hill gave the appearance of an untidy and unkempt area,
clearly overlooked by the gardeners in the kingdom. I walked down the hill, watching where
I treaded so as not to step on any of the little inhabitants that lived throughout the realms of
the goblins. A small pond sat in front of the tall golden walls that led to the entrance of the
Labyrinth. Covered in climbing vines that latched onto the weather worn surface, they looked
foreboding and cast a dark shadow upon the surrounding area, threatening those who wished
to enter. As though it were that easy for any who wished to do such a thing would have to go to
the tedious task of finding the entrance, as it is not clearly visible to most who pass. Unnoticed
by the small dwarf gardener who is tending to other work, I creep by, already knowing where
the opening is. I dread that the gardener will turn to see me and I fret as to what that meeting
would be like. After all, I left him and my other “friends” behind, never again calling upon
them after that summer night. Guilt floods through my mind, remembering my promise to
them. That should I need them, I would call. Truth be told, I had needed them at more points in
my life than I could count, but I had wanted to move on from those memories I had here in the
Labyrinth. I wanted it all to just be a childish fantasy thought up by my naïve and imaginative
15 year old mind and, while I nearly had convinced myself that those experiences were just
that, a dream, there continued to be a nagging at the back of my thoughts for all these years
telling me to face the truth and the consequences of it. As I pass, I notice that the man, who I
know fondly as Hoggle, is spraying down small flying sprites that you and I know as fairies. In
appearance, they could be compared to miniature porcelain dolls with flowing white-gold hair
and delicate bodies. Innocent as they may look, they will bite if feeling threatened. Contrary to
popular belief, they do not grant wishes. The door, camouflaged with the rest of the wall, opens
inward on my approach as the King is expecting my presence. Once in the Labyrinth, you can
either go left or right. Or that’s what most people believe. Me? I wouldn’t go either way. They
both look as though they go on forever, and if you just walk straight, they do. That’s part of the
enchantment set in place. No matter which way you go, you will never get anywhere unless you
discover one of the many secret passages within the endless maze. I pass by a small blue worm
and greet him, knowing him from a previous visit here. He beckons me to come in and have a
cup of tea, but apologizing profusely, I must carry on if I am to reach my destination in time. I
seemingly walk through the wall in front of me, but it is simply an illusion. In the Labyrinth,
nothing is what it seems and you mustn’t take anything for granted. Floating along the warm
summer breeze that blows by, I catch a verse of song sung faintly in a deep masculine voice.
Smiling to myself, I know immediately that this is the voice of the ever present Goblin King,
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Jareth. The tune and lyrics strike a familiar chord in the depths of my mind, in that dark area
of near forgotten memories that have practically disappeared through time, leaving behind
past lives and loves, tragedies and mishaps. Although this memory was not one of horror,
I had been haunted by the memory in my dreams, forever taunted by the thoughts of what
could have been if that fateful choice had not been made. He had begged for me to stay, he
had pleaded for my love, but I had ignored it all and gone on to destroy him. As much as I had
wanted to stay, I was forced with the task of saving my little stepbrother, and that sisterly duty
was the number one priority during my first journey through the Labyrinth. The adventure
had shaped me, the trials and tribulations strengthening me and turning me from a bratty and
self- centered girl, to a self-less and thoughtful woman.
Shaking away all of the thoughts of what could have been, I turned back to reality to face the
present task. Running down the all too familiar twists and turns that seemed branded into
my memory, I weaved my way through the crumbling old walls and the dirty cobblestones that
covered the ground at my feet. Coming to a halt, I come to the Ruses. Two doors, guarded by
creatures with shields, ask me which door I’d like to choose. Already knowing that behind the
guard with the red shield would be an oubliette, I decided on that door. I didn’t want to risk
going through the other door, not knowing what was behind it. I felt myself falling but was
quickly caught by the Helping Hands. Hundreds and hundreds of grey, age worn hands were
throughout the drop and were kind enough to help break the fall.
“Which Way?”
“Up? Or down?”
I heard unnatural voices echo throughout the tunnel and replied confidently. “Down please
chaps. And carefully.”
Recalling my previous visit and how the hands had unceremoniously dropped me down the
shaft and into the dusty pit below, I felt the necessity of adding in the last bit to my request.
“But of course Miss.” A deep voice echoed in my ears.
Carefully and slowly, I was propelled down the hole and placed at the bottom. Dusting myself
off, I saunter over to the old mat lying on the floor and lift it up to find a key and a door.
Desperate to get out of the oubliette, I placed the door against the mud wall and turned the
key, revealing a passage out of the dirty and dimly lit hole I was stuck in. The scent of dust
and decaying earth had begun to overwhelm me in my short time within the oubliette, and
I was grateful to breathe in the fresh air that came flowing through the tunnel I was now in.
As I passed by, loud, booming voices bellowed at me, warning me to go back or face certain
death. I rolled my eyes at the proclamations being made by large stone faces bearing a slight
resemblance to those on Easter Island. While most people running the Labyrinth would
run cowering in the other direction, I knew better and had named this The Tunnel of False
Alarms. You get a lot of those in the Labyrinth, especially when you’re on the right track.
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Recalling my meeting with Jareth in the Labyrinth years ago, I half expected a crystal ball to
come rolling down the dirt path towards me. However, when no crystal came, I found myself
slightly disappointed and longing for those times. Gazing to the ground, the old goblin’s beggar
costume that the King had worn to disguise himself lay forgotten to gather dust in this rarely
travelled tunnel. Sighing, I turned my back on the only evidence left to prove my memories
correct and moved up the old rickety ladder and out into the courtyard. A bright and neatly
cultivated area, full of trimmed and sculpted plants and hedges, the garden had a sense of
peace and tranquility to it in comparison to the rest of this maze, which was disorderly and
hazardous. The old wise man lay dozing off in his stone chair and I quietly skirted around
him, not wanting to interrupt his rest. As I reached the brass knockers, I remembered Jareth’s
note. When he had bid me come and see him, I had hesitated. I had absolutely no idea of what
his intentions were and as to why he would suddenly contact me after 3 years of silence on
his part. But thinking of what I had left behind and had longed to have, I decided to accept
his invitation. He had included a few tips to make my journey easier though. Why he couldn’t
just make me appear at his castle, I didn’t have the slightest idea. But he recalled my dislike
of the Fierys and suggested I choose the door with the hearing impaired knocker on it. He
informed me that this would lead around the forest and to the Bog of Stench. While the Bog
of Stench was not much better, I would rather suffer with the intense aroma of the bog than
have the Fierys attempt to take my head off. Going through his suggested door, I stepped out
onto the grey rocks covering the ground around the bog and gagged on the repulsive stench
coming from that horrid bog. I held the sleeve of my white poet’s shirt up to my nose to try
to shield myself from the assault of smells, but it achieved little. The stench of the bog was
unimaginable. It was such an awful smell that it couldn’t be compared to anything else in
existence. Try to think of all of the smells you most detest put together and that is as close as
you could possibly get to describing it, but yet the bog was ten times more potent than even
that. The foul scent drifted along the breeze and I knew that I would only be relieved of it once
I had crossed the slimy, green muck and entered the Enchanted Forest where I had eaten that
dreaded peach. Going as fast as I could, I reached the old oak tree where I had first met the
squirrel-like goblin called Sir Didymus. A noble knight that lived by the code and faithfully
guarded the Bog, I found myself missing him dearly and wishing that he would come riding out
on his sheepdog Ambrosius. Never did he come, and I was forced to keep going on past the bog.
I was incredibly thankful once I left the Bog and was greeted with clean, wondrous air. You will
never be grateful for the air that is pure until you have experienced a scent as potent as the one
encountered in the Bog. I knew that I was almost at the Goblin City and felt my heart racing
in anticipation for the coming meeting. The Enchanted Forest was one of the more pleasant
places in the mass mandala within the Goblin Realms, with no sudden challenges or creatures
that impediment your journey. The webs of spiders stretched across the dark and twisted trees
which shielded the light from reaching you. Intimidating and yet mystical, the forest posed no
threat so long as you didn’t go eating foreign fruits, as I had learned the last time when I had
taken a bite of a tainted peach. The whole forest seemed to be alive and glittered with the few
rays of sunlight that did happen to break through the barriers that were the canopies of the
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trees. Treading lightly, I felt myself step on an object that squished under my foot. Removing
the sole of my shoe, a peach was revealed, still perfectly preserved save for the single bite I
had taken 3 years ago. Puzzled at the good condition of it, I assumed that it must be another
enchantment placed upon the fruit and waved off the thought. I could have sworn I heard deep
laughter on the breeze, like a whisper for my ears only. I spun around, expecting to see the
Goblin King, but saw no one.
At last, I saw the Goblin City, towering before me with the only obstacle to face being the
Junk Yard. Internally I wondered why Jareth never moved the garbage to some other place but
reminded myself that he had everything there for a reason. The castle was large and imposing,
staring down upon the little mud shacks with roofs of straw which were inhabited by goblins
of all shapes and sizes. A smooth stone wall enclosed the City within its boundaries, ensuring
safety to its citizens. I had been informed that no guards would stand in my way and that I
would be free to enter with no challenges. With that in mind, I waded through the overflowing
piles of rubble that seemed to close in on me. It was similar to wading through the ocean, only
this was an ocean of broken objects and discarded items that their users had decided held no
more use. I prayed the whole way that I would not be met with that hag of a lady who had tried
to make me forget my intentions the first time around. I would not fall for her tricks again.
Thankfully, my prayers were answered and I successfully reached my goal unscathed. As much
as I would have liked to collapse of exhaustion, I made myself go on by reminding myself of
what would face me at the castle. The city was eerily quiet, not a single goblin to be seen. It
gave me a sense of déjà vu but reminded myself that they were likely at the castle. I strode up
the large stone steps and walked with purpose into the castle. Turning down hallways, I lost
my sense of direction and could suddenly not recall which way to the throne room. Frightened,
I swiveled around and closed my eyes, trying to recall my string of thoughts that had so
suddenly departed, leaving a blank space in my mind. I found myself walking aimlessly, not
knowing exactly where I was going, but only knowing that the force that had taken over my
body would bring me where I needed to go. I stopped walking and found myself in the Escher
Room, the final place that I had been before my abrupt departure from the Castle to return
home. It was as it had been before I destroyed it, intact and magnificent. Stairs covered every
surface, defying gravity and twisting the mind. It was almost how it had been on that exact
time, 3 years previously when I had raced into the room, only to be met by the man who had
taken my little brother from me and put me through his maze. I had to admit to myself after it
was through, that everything he said had been true. He had been generous, more so than I had
first cared to admit. Everything he had done was just what I asked and he was only living up to
my expectations.
How you turn my world, you precious thing.
You starve and near exhaust me.
Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.
Continued
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I move the stars for no one.
I heard the lyrics sung from behind me and spun to face the tall man that had so long ago
offered me my dreams. His wild mane of pale blonde hair blew in an unseen wind and his
stormy mismatched eyes bore into my own. I felt my breath catch and observed him. He
seemed so unchanged, but there was a trace of sadness and hurt in his eyes that I knew I
had caused. He was adorned in the same black goblin armour that he had worn when he first
appeared to me in my parent’s bedroom and offered me the opportunity to run the Labyrinth.
His dove grey leather breeches were tight fitting and tucked into knee high riding boots. A long
cape fluttered behind him, trailing down his back and encasing his body in the shimmering
waves of fabric. He had both hands to his hips and his head cocked to the side, an expression
that I was all too familiar with.
“Hello Sarah.” He greeted me in his clipped British accent. I stared into his eyes as we both
tried to decipher each other’s feelings.
“Hello Jareth.” I greeted him back curtly.
“I am glad that you did accept my invitation. This would have been so much more difficult and
you would not have enjoyed the alternative nearly as much had you not.” He smirked and I
had a good idea of what those alternate means would be. I was sure they most likely involved
dragging me here against my will and being forced to listen to this spiel of his. I rolled my eyes
and he chuckled at my response.
“Anyways, to the reason of you being here… I wanted to give you one more chance to accept
what I offered you 3 years ago. Your dreams.” He drew out of his cape a crystal and spun it
around in his hands. “I wanted to offer you the chance to stay here with me and be my Queen.
Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave. There is no catch, I just ask that much
and I will turn the world upside down for you if you want me to.”
I could see the desperation and longing in his facial expressions and immediately gave my
consent. “Jareth, I have regretted my decisions for 3 years. I will happily stay.” I smiled up at
him as relief and joy flooded his face. A triumphant look appeared on his face and he grinned
widely.
“I will be there for you, as the world falls down.” He sang quietly in my ear as he held me close
to him. I relaxed into his embrace and quietly sang back to him the song that had haunted my
thoughts in the years following our first encounter.
“There’s such a sad glow, deep in your eyes... ”
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 8
89
Empty
By Gabrielle Kramer
The glass is half empty
It doesn’t matter that there’s something left
Because something else is gone
And until the glass is full again
I can’t help myself move on
But my life keeps on moving
And while I’m just going through the motions
The rest of my life is passing me by
And I know that I have to get off of the ground
But what if I’m not ready to fly?
The ground may be sad, but the sky is just scary
And I’m tired of being told what I do wrong
When no one even knows what’s right
How much is life even worth
When it feels like a never ending fight
Day after day you scream and you yell
And you don’t even care that you’re breaking me down
Each word is a bullet, confronting my wall
That I tried to build well
When I tried to stay strong
And people tell me that things will pick up
But like a stone in the ocean
I keep sinking low
Lonely and lost
But with no place to go
And it’s like being on the Titanic
Because some will sink
And some may survive, they will float
But I’m just a stone
I have no place to go
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So what happens when I hit the bottom
Where will I go
And who’s going to care
Because anyone can call for help
But what about when no one’s there
I’ll pick myself up and be my own aid
Only to return back to a place
Where I’m expected to be strong
While those same words attack me
And tear down my wall
So don’t try to tell me that this glass is half full
Because people laugh and they smile
And all that I see
Is the pain and the sadness
That hides underneath
Because I feel what they feel
The anger, annoyance, the anguish
It’s all there
And I understand that I’m a stone
Drowning, sinking in the ocean that feeds my despair
But what I don’t understand is your claim that I’m fine
When you watch the tears stream
Like blood from a body that once had been whole
And the stream flows so much faster
When you’ve broken the soul
So don’t you dare say
“It’s fine, you’re alright”
Because it isn’t my fault, you have to be wrong!
And then again
Maybe you were right all along
Because if you tell yourself something
For a long enough time
It starts to be true
And the only thing more convincing
Is hearing it from you
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So I know I’m not perfect, that I can accept
But it gets harder to cope, when you make sure I know
That I don’t eat or speak, that I can never be
The girl you expect
And it’s harder to cope, when I know that I’m me
It feels as though
I’m ready
To be no one at all
Because my world used to be beautiful
And then the autumn leaves had to fall
So the love is gone
And the hatred, I can feel it
It’s as piercing and cold
As the dark gloomy weather
Brought by the only season I’ve come to know
All I can do
Is stay
In this terrible place
Where each day is an opportunity
For more hurt and more hate
This glass is half empty
It doesn’t matter that there’s something left
Because something else is gone
And until the glass is full again
I can’t help myself move on
And even when it’s full again, I’ll try to move on
But you’ll take that away too, I’m sure
And there comes a time when I have to see
That maybe the best way to escape the hurt
Is to just let my glass drain empty
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Here Kitty, Kitty
By Natalie Barnett
Katherine Kalem was better known to her friends and peers alike, as Kitty. With her olive
toned body, and cat like eyes, she was the object of everybody’s affection in Westering High.
She was the perfect student and peer, according to most. This had began at the start of last
year, when her boyfriend of 3 years, Jamie, disappeared suddenly. No one knew the cause.
Most thought he had run away, as no body was found, well some thought him to have been
kidnapped. Kitty was over him though; she was onto a new part in her life, where he barely
crossed her mind. Until Friday the 13th of October.
The day started the same as all others, she dragged herself out of the bed, and she would walk
into the en-suite bathroom, and begin brushing her dark, almost black, hair. Kitty would then
wash her olive face with some expensive face wash, and pull on an even more expensive outfit
for the day. Her parents made more money than they knew what to do with, so it had all gone
to Kitty in the form of any gift she wished. She just had to say the word and it would be hers.
Kitty would then make her way to her red convertible, the one that everyone in the town was
jealous of, to go and pick up her two friends, Stacy and Lilianna. Though, on this practically
dreadful looking day, the two had called in sick with the flu that seemed to be swimming
around. Kitty was fine with that, though, being without her two friends. She could hang out
with anyone she wished to. She really was the most popular girl at the school. Maybe because
her great, great grandparents had founded the school, and they handed it down, generation to
generation. Kitty was next in line to be headmistress of the school and if anyone wanted a job
there, or even a good life in Westering, they knew not to mess with her.
Kitty decided that, since she was already up and no longer had anything else to do, that she
would go to the school early, to use their facilities and try to work off the dinner she had
from last night, Kitty’s night out with her Nan. She reached the school in a decent time and
clambered out of the car, and headed towards the main doors of the wealthy school. The red
bricks were covered in 50 year old ivies, and the front door stood tall and demanding, as if
daring anyone of a lower standard to go in. Kitty walked through the doors as if she owned
the place, which, in actual fact, she practically did. One word from her to her parents, teachers
could be fired, and lives could be ruined. Being a Kalem definitely had the perks.
Just as she was swaggering up the front steps, a black cat ran into her path. Stopped right in
front of her, her breath froze in her slim throat. Jamie claimed to have seen a black cat before
he disappeared, Kitty thought wildly, but then shook her head the nonsense. Stray cats were
common in the small town of Westering. Kitty began walking forward; changing the path
slightly to avoid the cat when it hissed at her and arched its back, the long black hairs standing
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straight up like guards. “Go on, scram!” She shooed, making a gesticulation with her hands. The
cat moved not.
Kitty sighed loudly. This vexed her. Once more, the cat repeated its actions. She glared savagely
at it, and it scampered off. “Finally…” She muttered to herself, ignoring all of the warning
signs in her body telling her to run. She knew all about the superstitions about black cats, but
that’s all they were to her. Superstitions. Jamie, on the other hand, believed any superstition
that came his way. Second time you’ve thought about him today, she thought to herself, what’s
happening to you, Kitty? You never think about him!
She made her way quickly to the locker room, walking a little faster than she normal would’ve,
but not too fast that it should be noticed by anyone. Once in the locker room, Kitty sighed in
relief. See? Nothing’s wrong. Calm down, she thought. Kitty changed into her workout clothes
in record time, and entered the exercise room and put herself on the treadmill to help to work
off the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She kept all thoughts of the strange black cat
out of her head, and tried to focus on the steady rhythm of her heart.
The young woman worked in silence; for she had no idea a boy was watching her, just from a
crack in the boy’s locker room. Accidently, he lost his footing and tumbled back into the locker
room with a loud crash. Kitty froze in terror. Were the superstitions about black cats real? Was
it her time?
“Hello?” She called, trembling. Why, she did not know. Kitty had always believed that, if you
heard a noise, calling hello wasn’t the smartest idea. How were they going to respond? She
thought to herself, ‘Oh, hey, I’m just robbing you.’? No, but in the place she was in now, she
thought of nothing else to call out. Slowly, as Kitty climbed off the treadmill, she was met with
a crackling sound coming from the PA system.
“Here Kitty Kitty,” The voice called. It was sickening, the voice. The voice seemed to move
through her body with authority, and chilled her to the bone. It felt as if, just then, Kitty knew,
knew that she wasn’t to make it to first period.
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Journey to Freedom
By Michelle Arshad and Helen Wang
Imagine a world without laughter, without feelings, without imagination,
A hopeless nightmare filled with sorrows, pain and despair.
Freedom is a dream that may never come true,
For those living in a world trapped like animals in cages.
To be free may take eternity,
When they are frightened to leave their home,
As if they would evaporate into thin air.
Freedom will take infinity,
When thoughts are limited,
Actions are forbidden,
And voices are silent.
They fight; for freedom,
Though shaken by the surrounding sorrows and sadness,
Feeling as dark and dreary as the sky awaiting a treacherous tornado.
Rebels flooded the town baring an endless supply of weaponry,
Houses broken to pieces by bombing and gun fire,
Ashes of the remains dancing and twirling around in the gray sky,
Moonlight shining through the shattered windows until the next blast was heard.
They fight; for freedom,
Never letting the feeling of independence fade,
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Though it is a long trip full of struggles.
Freedom entails great sacrifice and strong intentions.
It comes from belief and untamed meaningful actions.
Though being imprisoned may bring them down,
When those who have restrained them have fallen,
All they remember is to fight for their goals keep trying.
They fight; for freedom,
As if a paint brush has washed the miserable memories away,
Leaving fearless beings to protest the unfairness with braveness,
Despite of being beaten, jailed or killed in the pursuit of justice.
They are the true heroes of liberty,
With a heart that is clear and generous,
Opinions that others are frightened to share,
And actions that others have never attempted.
Tears have shaped one’s life for them to be strong for lifelong,
Even when they are trapped, tortured and tormented.
Finally, their believes have turned into ideas,
ideas to effort,
and finally, to reality.
The journey was rough and took all their power,
But now they can be free for eternity.
Those who have been scared to leave their home for decades,
Can now live in peace, free of all their worries.
They fought; for freedom.
Freedom is not a dream; it is reality.
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Loneliness
By Nicolas Santamaura
Unwanted. Unpopular. Unknown.
You could say that I’m forever alone.
People see me sitting all by myself and think it’s no big deal—nothing new.
Little do they know the pain inside me that rages, like a wildfire out of control.
It’s too powerful to burn out on its own, yet I’m too weak to try and extinguish it.
It burns and burns and burns.
The feeling is unexplainable; the pain of all the others pulling themselves away from me.
In a sly way they say things behind my back, but I can still hear the hurtful words they speak.
Their words pierce my soul like hot knives.
It hurts ‘til I don’t feel like going on anymore.
It hurts and hurts and hurts.
Lacking. Lonely. Lost.
I need respect, how much will it cost?
As I sit all by myself, I can feel the darkness approach.
I can feel it surrounding me. I can hear it laughing and taunting and mocking my loneliness:
“You’re all alone, all alone, all alone.”
It’s sad to say, this is nothing new. I have been through this pain millions upon millions of times.
All this sadness makes me feel like I’m a character in one of those Grimm’s Fairy Tales.
At the end of this story, there is no happy ending, no riding off into the sunset.
But, even after all this there is something I haven’t given up on:
It’s called hope, hope, hope.
Undefeated. Unafraid. Undaunted.
I will live my life, even if I don’t feel wanted.
People may not know it, but I am much more powerful than they realize.
Although the pain in my life is a Goliath, I know I can fight like David to overcome this loneliness.
I will fight, I will fight, I will fight.
I want to live in the light of justice, not the shadows of despair.
Every day, I wake up with hope.
Hope that someone will prove me wrong by showing true kindness and respect to me.
Because I never know when others might decide to bring themselves toward me and try to be a
friend, and douse the fires of my sorrow.
Like a Phoenix I will, no, I must rise from the ashes of my pain.
I will rise, I will rise, I will rise.
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 8
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Opinion Piece
Stem Cell Research: Canada’s
Future of Regenerative Medicine
By Lillian Kasulis
Imagine a world where human suffering and death on the account of disease, is nonexistent;
a world where damaged cells, tissues, and organs repair themselves and naturally restore a
person to health. What if this novelty, could become a reality? This is the enormous potential
that stem cell research presents. A stem cell is a cell found in the human body that is unique
to being unspecialized, and having the ability to take on the properties of any specialized cell
to repair and restore damaged tissue. Promoting stem cell research must be the focus of the
Canadian medical sector in the coming years, because this technology will eventually lead to
the elimination of all human adversity. Major advancements in medicine that could be the
outcome of promoting focus in this area of research, include gaining the ability to cure all
human disease safe and effectively, allowing for more successful and accurate screening of
new drug therapies in the pharmaceutical industry, and enhancing quality and length of life.
Any opposition to this area of study often comes from a lack of understanding for the subject.
It is evident that, stem cells are the future of regenerative technology, and focusing modern
research on stem cells is the only way to find a solution for many health problems that have
existed since the beginning of time.
Heart Disease, Lung Cancer, and Stroke are the three main causes of death in Canada;
therefore it is crucial for Canadians to put their focus into finding solutions for these problems
(CBC News Canada. What’s Killing Canadians? 2013). Development in stem cell technology
could cure all human disease safely and effectively. Dr. Lawrence Goldstein, research scientist
at the University of California San Diego, theorized that all disease is degenerative. His
extensive lab studies and reports have proven that, contrary to previous beliefs, tissue damage
from injury, trauma, infection, inflammation, lesions, radiation, and surgery, are all a part of
this classification (Goldstein, L. page 3). Stem cells with their regenerative properties could
be used to reverse the effects of any kind of damage or degeneration in the human body. In
addition, adult or tissue stem cells can be harvested from various locations in an individual’s
body. Brain tissues, bone marrow, blood vessels, skeletal muscle, skin, teeth, heart, gut, and
liver are a few of the known locations where stem cells exist (Kaye, Marcia. University of
Toronto page 1 of 5). Since stem cells are taken directly from a patient’s own body, powerful
chemical compounds and invasive transplantation procedures often accompanied with
alternative drug therapies are no longer necessary. These cells carry the body’s DNA and are
recognized and accepted with minimal to no risk of immune rejection. If stem cell research
were to become the focus of medicine in Canada, the enormous burden of diseases that are
presently incurable and victimizing millions of Canadians annually, would be eradicated.
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Current methods of drug testing in the pharmaceutical industry have been deemed inefficient
and ineffective. Progressive stem cell research will allow scientists and doctors to screen
millions of drugs and medicines without the need for animal or human testers. In the year
2012, close to 30 billion dollars was spent in Canada for drug screening. However, only less
than 10% of these drugs were effective in human clinical trials (Canadian Cancer Society. Stem
Cell Policy. June 28, 2011). The problem with using mammals such as rodents for testing is that
the chemical interactions and physiology of the animal is different from the human. Therefore,
the way in which the animal’s body detoxifies or reacts to a drug, does not accurately model
the outcome that it would have on the human body. Human testers on the other hand, cannot
be accessed until the final stages of trials due to the various risks that are present. Instead,
using stem cells to simulate the effect that a drug has on a specific population of cells could
determine whether or not the drug is effective, or if any problems were to occur. Making stem
cell research a larger part of medicine in Canada would allow pharmaceutical companies to
develop drugs that are safe and effective in patients.
Death occurs when the organs and tissues in the human body are diseased or aged.
Unfortunately, this is usually accompanied by both physical and emotional hardships for
suffering patients and for their families who are forced to endure the excruciating pain
of watching their loved ones deteriorate. However with greater opportunities in stem cell
research, the solution is not far off. Advancements in stem cell research in the coming years
will prolong and increase the overall quality of life for human beings, to make the world a
better place to live. A team at the University of Kentucky found that mouse strains that live
the longest have stem cells in their bone marrow that are particularly good at repairing DNA.
Ageing occurs when stem cells can no longer cope with the degree of cell turnover needed to
keep the organs young (http://stemcells... page 2). This demonstrates the direct connection
between stem cells and the ageing process. Replenishing stem cells in the body would therefore
increase the life expectancy of human beings. Furthermore, Congestive Heart Failure patient
Max Eaton in Miami, Florida, was injected with stem cells from his bone marrow, into the
damaged regions of the heart. Less than a year later, his heart functions did not decline as
anticipated with traditional therapies, but became 40% more effective (The University of
Miami Miller School of Medicine. (2012, May 29). Breakthrough Medicine). With the illness
steadily improving, Max has been able to live a normal, active lifestyle, resuming his lifelong
family furniture business and looking forward to a future with grandchildren. Promoting stem
cell research as the focus of Canadian medicine in the coming years, will allow humans to live
longer, healthier, and more fulfilling lives.
Human health is the largest determinant of overall wellness. For centuries, it has been up
to innovators to discover new ways of improving health care. One of the most prominent
and rapidly developing technologies that is currently being studied in Canada is stem cells.
Shifting the focus of Canadian Medicine towards stem cell research will end suffering caused
by degenerative disease. This will be achieved through finding ways to cure human disease
safely and effectively, to allow for more accurate and efficient pre-clinical drug screening
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in the pharmaceutical industry, and to enhance the quality and length of life. The basis of
opposition to stem cell research is the destruction of human embryos; however those embryos
would be destroyed for biological waste if not donated for research. Also, the embryos used for
embryonic stem cell research come from in-vitro fertilization and are in the earliest stages of
development; prior to life formation. Canada currently struggles to focus medicine on stem
cell research because the costs for conducting clinical trials are very high, and a surplus of time
and money is spent on facilities to accommodate the chronically ill. However, without investing
into the solution, the problem will never be solved. Just as the antibiotic was a medicinal
miracle of the last century, stem cell research will dominate the new era by opening the doors
to one of the greatest scientific revolutions to date.
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The Goal
By Gabrielle Kramer
I come and stand in front of you here.
I hope, I pray for a listening ear,
But what may not show on the surface,
It sits within, it grows.
My worry of laughs, it begins to show
Why... Why, Why, Why?
I’m worried; I’m scared to be me
Don’t you see? We’re tearing apart the inside;
Of you, of me.
Can the Miley Cyrus lover be true to the world?
Is the Justin Bieber fanatic hurting in truth?
Whether it be race, gender, religion or personal opinion,
We are taught to EMBRACE who you are.
But how far does that encouragement go?
What is it that we really want?
We want “normal”, we want “cool”.
All must be right, nothing wrong.
What goes on in this life?
He’s a freak!
She is weird!
We are all afraid of being ridiculed.
But weird to you is not to them.
Freak to me is different to the rest.
What are we doing to the souls and imaginations?
Does anybody know what we’re trying to achieve?
The world would be better if we all were the same.
Is that not what we’re trying to say?
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When we shave away the confidence of those who are different,
What is the goal?
Is it greatness we hope to achieve?
But, how is boring great?
Because that is what I think our world would be without variety!
So I say we stop shaving the confidence and individuality!
I say we trash the razor of cruelty,
Because I hope and I pray for a listening ear.
But there is one more thing that I wish for from you, from the world.
And this is something that I think makes you the same as me.
I’ll say it loud and clear so you can understand that
ACCEPTANCE is something that I think we all need!
Let’s leave the lies and loser signs behind us.
We are one... a community.
We must UNITE and let us sing.
Be yourself and no one else because only you can be you!
When we go out to the playground,
You can unlock the cage inside yourself,
And finally your emotions will act free
Your true colours will finally fly!
They’ll fly so high you’ll see their rainbow in the sky!!!
When we stand tall, all for all,
Nobody can bring us down
Let the personalities glisten,
And when the insults shatter into pieces on the ground
We will only hear one sound;
The free spirits and souls that squeal with joy.
And only when this happens,
That is when we’ll know,
That our world, our community has finally met their goal!
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The Sky Above is Falling
By Kathryn Cole
We heard the explosions before we saw them. At first, I thought it was just another noise—our
next-door neighbors who were stupid enough to set off fireworks during the day, someone starting a
motorcycle, my brother playing first-person shooters in his room with the volume turned up to the
point where it shook the entire house.
But it didn’t sound like any of that. The cynical teenager part of me, the part that had planned out
her entire life and absolutely had to climb to the top of Mount Everest before she died, wanted to
believe that it was, but the rational part said that something was very, very wrong.
My mother beat me to the window and as she looked out onto the empty street I saw her jaw go
slack, eyes wide with fear and disbelief. “Oh my goodness me,” she exclaimed, in the way that old
people sometimes do. I pushed her aside and caught a glimpse of fire and smoke and things moving
around that might have been people running around and screaming before she pushed me away.
“Lissa, you don’t need to see this. Take your brother and go out the back door, quickly.”
I resisted the urge to cross my arms and pout, because while I’d seen fire in Texas many times before,
I’d never seen that much fire, so it was safe to assume that it was a serious thing. I did the only thing
I could do – I obeyed my mother’s orders.
“Ryy-aaan!” was all I managed to scream up the stairs before the ceiling collapsed on top of us.
***
When I woke up, my lungs felt heavy. Not like they were made of metal or anything, but they were
clogged up. It was hard to breathe. I rolled onto my side and coughed out a mixture of phlegm, dirt,
and the Froot Loops I’d had for breakfast this morning. Lumped all together in a sticky heap on the
concrete ground, it looked extremely unappetizing. The sight alone made me throw up.
I wasn’t even aware that someone was rubbing my back until I stopped dry-heaving and took a few
moments to actually breathe, gulping in the stale air surrounding me. I turned my head, focusing my
stinging eyes on Bryony, the girl who lived next door. She was about my age; I’d talked to her a few
times but I’d never actually thought of her as interesting enough to talk to.
I blinked. “What’s going on,” I managed to say. My voice was thin, airy, and cracked, and it reminded
me of the one time my two best friends and I got lost while camping. We’d wandered around in the
wilderness for days, and by the time we finally found a cabin being rented out by a nice young couple
who called our parents for us, the three of us could barely speak due to the fact that we hadn’t had
a drink of water in days. We’d been too scared to drink the water from the stream, out of fear that
some deer had defecated in it or something. My memory on the subject wasn’t quite clear, but I just
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remembered that it was some stupid reason.
“Aliens,” Sofia said calmly, as though it was an everyday occurrence. I flopped down on the mattress
beneath me, giving myself a rude awakening to the fact that I was lying on a worn-out, springssticking-out-of-the-fabric mattress, rather than the plush memory foam I was used to. Still, you take
what you get. I folded my arms and rested my head on them.
“Why is it always America,” I mumbled into my skin. Sofia laughed, but it sounded forced. Like she’d
forgotten how. “Was I out for long?” I asked.
“A week,” Sofia informed me. “A group of us found a storm cellar not far from our town and we
carried you here. Your mom and brother are dead. Sorry.”
I burst into wheezy laughter at her tone of voice, partly because it reminded me of the time my friend
and sort of on-off boyfriend Lars had texted me “SOZ. :(” as a follow-up to an excuse why he couldn’t
go to the movie theater with me that night, and partly because I just couldn’t bring myself to believe
that my family was dead. I’d accepted that my dad was dead, and my grandparents were dead, and that
even my beloved dog Kenny had gone to the big kennel in the sky, but the others? No. Not possible.
My laughter quickly dissolved into broken sobs, and then I was clinging to Sofia’s dirty t-shirt and
blowing my nose into the sweaty fabric, and neither of us cared because she was crying too and we
just held each other like that for a while because at the end of the world there was really nothing we
could do except comfort each other and pray that somehow, against all odds, we would survive.
***
I woke up that night screaming. The other five people crammed into the cellar that I didn’t know
groaned and put their hands over their ears and tried to go back to sleep on their mattresses that
were about as equally uncomfortable as mine was, but Sofia just crawled in next to me and stroked
my hair, whispering soothing words to me like it’s okay and we’ll make it through this until I finally
managed to fall asleep again. For a moment, it was almost easy to forget that the world wasn’t
ending and most people were probably dead by now.
Almost.
***
“North America is almost completely gone,” Sarah said from her position by the radio. She was a
beefy, bodybuilder type woman with a shaved head and steely gray eyes that pierced your soul. I
didn’t like to spend much time near her because she intimidated me, but she had impeccable survival
skills, so it was probably better that we kept her around. We’d been living in this setup for about a
month now, and it was a miracle that we hadn’t been eaten alive by the aliens yet.
“That’s good, right?” asked Jesse, another member of our team. He was a skinny teenager, younger
than me and Sofia. His wide brown eyes darted around the room, glancing of each of us to see
our reactions. He reminded me of a deer caught in the headlights. “They’ll move onto Europe now,
right?” he pressed after nobody else said anything.
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“I guess,” Sofia muttered finally. “I’m going out. Anyone who’s coming can come.”
I was the only one who followed her.
***
“I just keep thinking that maybe things are going to start looking up,” she said, her voice completely
devoid of the hope she was talking about. Her voice was completely devoid of anything except flat
tones and the occasional strained, scared tone that she used when she felt like crying but didn’t want
to seem weak. “I mean, yeah, Jesse’s dead, but at the same time he could still be alive. Just because
he went out and never came back doesn’t mean he was eaten by the Big Bad Wolf or whatever.”
I kept quiet. It was best to keep quiet when Sofia was ranting.
“I mean—” she took a deep breath, her lower lip trembling a little. “We’ve been doing this for a year
now. There’s gotta be someone trying to fix things. I have to believe that.”
“I hate to be the pessimist here,” I said gently, “but I don’t think there’s anybody left to try.”
She lay down in the grass and stared up at the sky, eyes shining with tears that she was forcing
herself to hold in. “I miss airplanes,” she whispered after a while. “I remember when we were in third
grade and this huge airplane passed over our school and everyone just kind of looked at the sky like
wow, that’s a huge airplane.”
I smiled. “I think I remember that.”
“No you don’t. It was a stupid thing. You’re too smart to bother remembering stupid things.”
“I remember you looking up at the airplane.”
It took her a few moments to finally realize the meaning of what I’d said, and her face lit up with an
actual genuine smile, and that made me smile too. “Hey! I’m not a stupid thing!” she laughed, feebly
swinging at my arm with her fist. I defended myself, scooting away from her.
“Just kidding,” I chuckled.
Her smile softened, but neither of us said anything after that. Sometimes it was best to just be silent.
Talking was overrated these days.
***
My life took an even more drastic turn for the worse a few days later. I had been going about my day
like normal—eating two spoonfuls of cold, uncooked baked beans, listening to the radio (which was
mostly white noise by now) for an hour and a half, and then eating a piece of stale bread along with a
glass of water from the nearby stream.
Sofia came bursting into the cellar just as I was finishing up my daily routine for living. We were the
only two people in there, save for Sarah, who was sleeping off a cold. The others were out looking for
food. Sofia just looked at me for a long while and then lurched forwards and then ran back outside.
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I followed her and found her vomiting into the grass, letting out shrieks of anguish unlike anything
I’d ever heard from her before. When I tried to gather her into my arms and comfort her, she pushed
me away, eyes wild.
“They’re human,” she wailed. The wind blew her greasy hair into her face and she made no effort to
brush it away. I just stared at her in shock. “They’re human,” she repeated, quieter this time.
“Who’s human?” I asked, gripping her arms. I could feel every bone underneath, sharp elbows jutting
out from under her skin.
“They’re not aliens. They’re human. Military.”
“Oh, God,” I said, and I felt weak in the knees. I put my hands out to steady myself as I fell. I felt
nauseous, too. “No.”
“Yes.”
In that moment, I couldn’t have cared less about whether or not I died.
***
They attacked us exactly a week and a half later. The bomb came without warning, when all of us
were out on a hike. In the final moments before it hit, I thought to myself that we had finally come
full circle—the whole thing had started with fire, and now it would end with fire.
The air around me actually rippled as I was thrown off my feet, the blast sending me tumbling down
a hill. I came to a stop at the edge of a creek, and I just lay there for a while, watching the ash rain
down from the sky. My ears were still ringing. Then I realized there was actually something leaking
from them. I put my hand up to one and it came away bloody. Then I realized I couldn’t hear.
My first thought was no, this can’t be happening. My second thought was Sofia.
Every single bone in my battered body protested as I inched my way back up the hill, dragging
myself with scraped hands. The pain all felt the same, and I was numb to it. I was going to be dead
soon anyways.
Sofia was lying a few feet away from the blast with a large piece of shrapnel in her stomach. I was
surprised at how unaffected I was at the sight of my friend dying in front of me. Maybe over a year of
just trying to survive had finally taken its toll on me.
“Hi,” I whispered, not sure if I was actually talking or not. I bit back a giggle at how absurd that one
word was. Like it was normal to start a casual conversation with a dying person.
“Hey,” she replied. She touched my ears. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Cell phone,” I read on her lips. She pointed to the pocket of her hoodie. I reached in and felt the edge
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of a phone. I took it out. It was cracked and dirty, and had probably run out of battery a long time
ago, but there was an engraving on the back. SOFIA MICHAELSON. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY GIRL.
“Burn it,” Sofia said.
“Why?”
“Because it’ll be all that’s left of me when I go. I want you to burn it. I don’t want anyone to
remember me.”
“I’ll remember you.”
She smiled, and a tear trickled from the corner of her eye. I squeezed her hand. “You’re too smart to
remember stupid things.”
***
The world officially ended on July 4th, 2015, at 10:32 p.m. The date was rather ironic, but I had
stopped paying attention to date and time long ago. I ate an entire can of baked beans, which was
more than I had eaten every day in two whole years. It was like I felt it was all finally over—either
that, or I had just lost the will to live. I listened to the radio in complete silence, though I imagined
that, in place of the white noise, it was playing one of the trashy pop songs I’d used to listen to when
music actually mattered. I fed the stale bread to a stray cat that had miraculously managed to survive
out in the wilderness for so long, probably by catching mice. In a way, it made me feel good about
myself—like the Earth was going to start over, just without the human plague that had poisoned it.
I didn’t drink any water. I felt no need to. Instead, I just lay down on my mattress, closed my eyes,
and waited.
I’m coming, Sofia.
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The Throne of the Royals
By Humna Wasim
Chapter 1
I stand up and take a few steps back to examine the dress. It is a light blue silk gown with a lace torso
and puffed sleeves, the lace of the collar finished the dress off. I picked it up carefully and hang it on
my rack next to my desk.
I then sit back in my chair which has been worn down over the years and stare out the window.
There isn’t much of a view from the attic; the window faces an empty field next to mother’s shop. I
faintly remember looking out of this window when I was younger and longed to play in the green
fields. The fields are now yellow and dried up. I hear a knock on my door and it startles me.
“Come in.” I say quietly. The door creaks open and mother’s head pops in. She is wearing a yellow
extravagant dress with puffed sleeves that wrap tightly around her wrist. She is wearing a yellow
matching hat with flowers pinned on to it. Her face is caked with the usual makeup and the ruby
lipstick. Mother is pretty, with or without the makeup, and so explains the rest of her daughters.
“Arya dear, I’m going out with Thomas, will you be fine on your own for a while?” Her voice is soft
but has a sense of firmness in it. I give her a small smile and nod. I know she is in a rush but she
walks over to the rack that garbs my newest dress creation.
“Oh Arya! This is lovely!” She gushes and then looks over at me, and frowns. “You really should make
something for yourself though. You have such talent and you’re beautiful but you dress so poorly.”
I can hear the kindness dripping in her voice. I am not beautiful, and I prefer to wear what I like. I
look down at my dress, it’s a plain grey dresses that cinches slightly at the waist. There are no puffed
sleeves.
“Mother, go on. You’ll be late. Besides I like what I wear.” I say rapidly.
“I worry about you sometimes…” She presses her cheek to mine, to prevent her lipstick from
smearing. “I might be late, so close up for me. Goodbye dear.” She calls out as she closes the door
behind her. I turn to look back out the window.
Mother goes out with Thomas almost every day now. I’m sure they will soon get married. I
sometimes want to object to her choice, but I have no reason to do so. He is handsome and is the
same age as mother, he has a good job and he is kind. I just don’t like him.
After father died, I was expected mother to re-marry, but I guess I never believed it would happen. I
thought back to when father married after my real mother passed away. I didn’t like my new ‘mother’
at first, she was excessive, but she was always very kind to me. Mother passed away when I was only
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five, so I don’t remember her. Father re-married when I was seven and he passed away when I was
fourteen. I am now seventeen years old living with mother and her three daughters.
Jane is now eighteen, I always felt close to her because she and I were similar, she wasn’t even really
my sister, but I always felt close to her any ways. Lucinda is now fourteen, she and I don’t get along.
We are not real sisters, but I have no relationship with her at all. Laura is nine and the youngest out
of all of us. She was born a year after father re-married. I was first angry with her when she was
younger, but now I am the closest to Laura. She is my only half-sister.
Jane is off in University so I don’t see her much and Lucinda attends a special secondary school and
Laura goes to a nice school not far from home. After secondary school, I didn’t attend University. I
knew mother needed someone to work in the shop, so I became the one to help her.
Mother’s shop is open every day and is called, ‘Dress Emporium’. She owned the shop before I even
knew her. I don’t remember who used to work at making the dresses before me but now it was my
job. I pulled out a new piece of fabric. It was a light pink color. I placed the fabric on my dress. I then
chose the proper netting to go with it. I finished it off with a crème colored lace.
I suddenly heard a bell ringing from downstairs. I quickly stood up and straightened my dress, it was
wrinkled in many places from sitting down for such long periods of time, but I didn’t really care. I
opened the attic door and winced when I heard the loud creaking noise it made.
I walked down the stairs so I ended up right at the cashier desk. There was a woman standing
there. She was a large woman with a smug look on her face. Her large feathered hat loomed over her
billowing figure. Miss. Withers.
“Good morning Miss. Withers, how may I help you?” I said faking a kind and timid voice.
She looked me up and down before replying. “I’m looking for a dress for my daughter, Elena.” I
cringed at the mention of her name. Elena was a girl in the town, she was the same age as, and she
attended the same secondary school. But she was very different from me; she was pretty with large
eyes and a slender face. “You must have heard about the wedding haven’t you?”
I bit my lip. I didn’t hear about much. I was usually cooped up in the attic prying over dresses and
seams or in the hall playing piano. Mother never liked the piano but father always liked it. He taught
me when I was very young. I always thought about pursuing a career as a musician but according
to mother only males could pursue such a career. “Congratulations.” I said quietly. Miss. Withers
laughed. She had a ugly laugh, it was loud but at the same time tinny.
“Oh no! It’s not my daughter’s wedding. Heaven’s no! Mrs. Grant’s daughter is getting married, haven’t
you heard?” I ignored her question and nodded. “Is there anything in specific you are looking for?”
“Something in a light color, tight at the waist, puffed sleeves.”
I walked away from the cashier table towards a rack of our best dresses. I pulled out a purple gown.
She shook her head. I pulled out a red one next. She shook her head barely looking at the gown.
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“I’ve already looked around the entire shop, I was wondering if you have anything in stock?”
I slowly walked up the stairs and into the attic room. I pulled the blue dress I had made today off
the rack and carefully walked down the stairs. Miss. Wither’s looked it over, one eyebrow raised. She
then slowly nodded.
“Did you make this?” She asked me curiously.
“Yes Miss. Withers.”
“I wouldn’t believe it if your mother hadn’t already told me. You made this yet you’re wearing such a
tasteless gown.”
“Would you like to purchase it?” I asked her changing the topic. She nodded. A few more women
walked into the store and began looking around.
I quickly handed her the bag and took the money and placed it in the drawer. “Have a good day.” I
called out as she walked out of the store with her head held high.
The rest of the day was spent helping women purchase dresses. I finally closed the store and walked
over to the kitchen. Laura and Lucinda would be coming home soon. I missed the days when Jane
and I used to prepare dinner together but that was before she went to university. I prepared a simple
meal consisting of bread with boiled vegetables.
I heard Laura and Lucinda enter the house. Laura ran into the kitchen. I smiled at her. She gave
me a brief hug. “How was school?” I asked her. She took a seat the dinner table. Laura had bright
green eyes, just like her mother. She was tall for her age and her dark brown hair fell down to her
shoulders.
“Jacob got in trouble today! He even got the strap. I was so scared!” Her voices rushed out in
excitement. “Does it hurt a lot?” She asked me.
I weakly remembered receiving the strap a few times in secondary school. “Yes, that’s why you have
to be good to never get it.” She stared up at me in awe.
“Are you hungry?” I asked her. She nodded. “Well then go upstairs and wash up and then you can
eat.” She smiled and quickly ran up the stairs. I could her Lucinda already coming back from washing
up. She took a seat at the dinner table without any greetings.
I set a plate in front of her. “How was school?” I asked her.
“Where’s mother?”
“She’s out with Thomas.” I said softly. I watched as Lucinda’s eyes flashed with something. I wasn’t
sure if it was anger or something else. She had green eyes as well, slightly darker than mother’s and
Laura’s. Her hair was very dark and it fell around her pale face all the way down to her lower back.
She had large eyes and a pointed nose. Pretty, like mother. I wondered how my real mother looked
like. She couldn’t have been pretty if I was her daughter.
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Lucinda began eating and so did I. We sat in silence until Laura came and began to drone on and
on about her school. I occasionally nodded and smiled at what she said, but I wasn’t really paying
attention.
“Time to go to sleep.”I said to Laura after she had finished eating.
“Can you play piano for me?” She asked. Her green eyes shined with eagerness. I smiled. Laura
probably inherited some of father’s love for music. She sat next to me on the stool and I began
playing a familiar melody.
It was a lullaby I faintly remembered mother singing to me before she died. My fingers relaxed and
so did the rest of me as the music filled the room. Laura sat next to me with a dreamy smile planted
on her face. The music warmed up the usually empty room, how it used to when father was alive.
After an hour of relaxing, I had to half carry Laura up to her room. I tucked her into bed and gave
her a quick kiss on the forehead. Lucinda was already sitting in her room. I knocked on the door and
didn’t hear a reply.
“Lucinda?” I continued knocking on the door. I slowly opened the door and poked my head in. She
was resting on her bed reading a book. She didn’t look up at me when I entered but I saw her eyes
look up for a moment and then quickly refocus on her book.
“It’s time to go to sleep.” I said quietly. She ignored me. “Lucinda.”
“What?”
“I said it’s time to go to sleep.”
“I can go to sleep when I feel like it. Just because mother’s not home doesn’t mean you can tell me
what to do!” She snapped as she finally looked up at me. Her eyes were red, had she been crying?
“You’re right; I was just hoping you would listen.” I said softly as I shut the door to her room behind
me. I walked over to my own room, which was the attic. I closed the attic door and quickly changed
into my sleeping clothes. I then curled up into my bed and pulled the covers up till my chin. I turned
on my side and stared out the window once more.
I couldn’t see anything, it was too dark, but looking out of the window still made me feel peaceful.
I heard mother come in through the door, but I was too tired to get back up. I lay in bed listening to
mother talking quietly with Thomas. I cringed as I heard his voice. After a while I fell fast asleep.
Chapter 2
I walked out of the shop. One day every week, I had to go to the market to buy groceries. Usually
I despised the arrival of this day, but this week had been so busy in the shop, I needed a break. I
straightened my plain straw hat on my head and wiped my hands on my grey dress, the same one I
had worn yesterday.
I began walking to the market looking around. Men were running to get to their work and women
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were dressed up to run to the stores. Some street kids ran around, dressed poorly. I made my way to
the food market gripping my shopping basket.
I made my way across the dusty street that held the market across from it. I smiled at the regular
shop keeper. He was a middle aged man, fat and burly. He had a thick moustache and he was bald.
“Morning.” He smiled at me and I scanned the small list mother had wrote up for me.
It was the regular list which consisted of vegetables, fruit and bread. I gave it to the man and he
carefully placed everything in my basket. I handed him the money and began making my way back
to the shop, I took my time to do so.
“Arya!” I heard someone call my name. It was a male voice that was dreadfully familiar. I ignored it
and continued walking. He caught up to me and grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. “Arya!”
I sighed and looked up at him. Peter. Peter was the only person who lived in this town I probably
loathed with a passion. “What do you want Peter?” I muttered.
He shrugged. I loathed him for many reasons. The biggest one was that he was a musician. Or
was considered one in our town. He played piano and all the women over the town gushed at him
and how ‘well’ he could play. He was also a violinist. If people heard me play, they would shut up
about him.
“I decided to say hi since I saw you.” I rolled my eyes and briskly walked away from him, but he
followed me.
“I don’t require your oh so special greetings.” I said promptly. He laughed a bit before standing in
front of me. He had dark brown hair, just like mine. He had brown eyes slightly lighter than mine
and he had a pale face.
“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I’m just practice being a gentleman.”
“Well you can practice on someone else; I’m far too busy to deal with people like you.” I snapped
back. He held up his hands in defeat.
“No wonder no one likes talking to you, you’re so cynical!” He called as I walked away from him. I
hate to admit it, but his comment hurt. I knew no one really liked talking to me, but I wasn’t cynical.
Only to him, because I didn’t like him.
When I arrived back home, mother was speaking with some women so I walked past her towards
the kitchen and quickly unloaded everything. I then washed my hands in the sink and dried them
with the tea towel. The shop wasn’t open yet so I had some time before I had to go upstairs and start
making dresses again. I heard someone walk into the kitchen and I smiled when I saw who it was.
Aunt Josephine. She wasn’t my real aunt, but she had been very close friends with my real mother
and I had known her ever since I was young. I gave her a quick hug. She was a tall and slender woman
and she wore a lot of makeup as well, but I didn’t mind.
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“Oh Arya! I have missed you so much!” She gushed. She had returned from a trip to visit the King
and Queen. Aunt Josephine was very as close as anyone in this town could get to knowing the royals
of our country.
“I’ve missed you too! How was your trip?” I asked politely.
“It was just tremendous. I actually spoke with the Queen, can you believe it. She is a very sweet
woman. I attended some of the royal balls and I have a surprise for you!” She said quickly. I
straightened up. I rarely received presents, only on Christmas.
“I know you will love this, but you have to keep it to yourself understand.” Her voice lowered into a
whisper. She looked round and the continued, “The royals are throwing a ball to honor the Duchess
of Brugnure and her daughter who are staying with the King and Queen for a while.” I nodded
patiently. What did this have to do with me?
“They needed a musician and I just happened to know the best musician in the country.” Her eyes
shone at me as she spoke. I felt my spirits rise. Aunt Josephine was the only one other than father
and Laura who really took my love for music seriously.
“So now, you’re performing at the ball in a week!” She shouted carelessly, forgetting her quiet voice.
My eyebrows shot up. “Aunt Josephine…Thank you so much!” I smiled at her.
She laughed, “You have to prepare though. You have to play what they show you, so be ready.”
Aunt Josephine soon left and I went upstairs to the attic to work on a new dress, but I couldn’t
stop thinking about the ball. I was really going to perform. I had never been to a ball before, but I
remember father talking about balls and the royal family all the time.
Father hated the royal family, so I grew up hating them too. I didn’t know why father hated them,
because I was sure he never met them, but I never asked. Maybe they weren’t as bad as I thought
they were. Any ways, I was just so excited to be performing at a ball.
I knew I couldn’t tell mother, she would definitely not let me go. I guess I would have to find an
excuse, I had a whole week to come up with one.
That night after mother closed the shop, I was glad to see that mother wasn’t in the mood to go out
with Thomas. I sat next to her at the kitchen table. I couldn’t help feeling guilty about not telling her,
but this was my one chance to do what I loved.
“Mother?”
“Mmm?”
“Are you okay?” I asked her in a concerned voice.
“Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”
“Because you didn’t want to go out with Thomas tonight.”
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“Well that’s because Jane is coming home today and also I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather
lately. I think I’m coming down with something.” She said quickly.
“Oh okay... ” I stared down at the table. I tugged at the hem of my dress. I was excited for Jane to
come, could I tell her about going to the ball? Probably not, I wasn’t that close to her anymore. I
would just have to contain my excitement until the ball.
Mother was preparing a meal, I hadn’t seen her do that in a long time. She coughed a few times.
“Are you sure you’re okay mother?”
“Yes Arya. I’m fine.” She turned to look at me. “Aren’t you going to change?”
“I wasn’t planning to, no.”
She shook her head. “Arya, dear please put on one of your nicer dresses.”
“Why? It’s just Jane. She sees me like this all the time.”
“Just change.” She closed the conversation and I held in a sigh as I walked up to my room. I opened
my small dresser drawer and pulled out a black dress. I knew mother would get angry, she hated
when I wore black, but I didn’t really care. I quickly changed into the dress and then stood in front of
my small mirror. It was cracked but I still used it.
I wasn’t pretty. I had dark brown hair that fell down to my lower back and dark brown eyes. I was
extremely pale and my eyes were just normal. They weren’t big like everyone else’s in my family. They
weren’t small either. They were just normal. I had a slim face that matched with my body and I had a
relatively small nose. My lips were stained with a natural redness I hated.
I brought a comb through my hair trying to make it look different, it didn’t work. My hair stayed on
me like a mop. I quickly braided it, my signature hairstyle. I stood up and pulled the dress at some
places and then finally left the room.
Mother looked me over when she saw me. Her nose was slightly red and she coughed.
“You look like you’re attending a funeral! Why must you always dress so poorly Arya?” She walked up
to me. “You hair is in a braid again!” She seemed so flustered as she looked me over, I felt guilty for
wearing what I had.
“Mother I—“
She sniffled and quickly grabbed a handkerchief and blew her nose in it. She just shook her head and
suddenly I heard a knock on the door.
“Get the door Arya, I’ll check to see if Laura and Lucinda are ready.” She looked me over one last time
and sighed as she went up the stairs.
I walked over to the door and opened it. Jane immediately embraced me. “Oh Arya!” Her high
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pitched voice broke the usual silence of the house. It was only when she pulled away that I noticed
she wasn’t alone. There was a boy her age standing next to her. He seemed shy and reluctant as Jane
introduced him.
“This is Philip.” She slowly lowered her voice, “I met him while I was at University.” She stopped
talking and blushed a bit. She looked the same as I remembered her. Her hair was light brown and
her large green eyes stared right at me. She was taller than me and slim. She was extremely pretty
and I couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy.
Philip shook my hand quickly and I invited them both in. He was slightly taller than Jane and he was
handsome. He had bright blue eyes and blonde hair. He was wearing a suit that fitted him perfectly.
He had a bright smile.
I motioned for them to take a seat in the living room.
“I have so much to tell you Arya! It seems like I haven’t seen you in so long. You got a bit taller. Do
you think I got taller? I don’t think so. Any ways the ride here was so long and boring. Can you
imagine sitting in a train for six hours! It was horrid! How have you been? Where are mother and
everyone else?”
“Mother, Laura and Lucinda are getting ready.” I said quickly.
She nodded and then looked over at Peter and then back at me. “This house is quieter than I
remember! How has the shop been? I feel sorry for you Arya! You’re still working there?”
I just nodded. “I like working there.” I said defensively. It wasn’t a complete lie; I did like working there
sometimes. Jane just shrugged. I heard Laura running down the stairs. She jumped into Jane’s arms.
Jane laughed. Laura politely shook Philip’s hand and then sat down next to him and began to talk.
It was then that mother and Lucinda came in. Lucinda gave Jane a brief hug and then sat down,
she didn’t acknowledge the presence of Philip. I felt sorry for him when mother walked in. Her eyes
widened when she walked in. Jane quickly stood up and she seemed tense.
“Mother!” She gave her a quick hug. “This is Philip. He-I met him at University.”
Mother gave Philip an uneasy smile. “What a nice surprise, how are you Philip.” She held out her
hand and Philip awkwardly shook it.
“I’m good, how are you?”
She smiled at him and then we all ate dinner. Philip soon became a bit more comfortable around all
of us.
“Arya, will you play piano for us?” Jane asked me after dinner. I was surprised she asked but I still
nodded, feeling a bit guilty. I improvised and played whatever came into my mind. Even mother
stayed while I played. No one was actually listening, but it still felt nice to have everyone in the living
room together.
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Chapter 3
The next morning mother was officially sick. I could hear her violent coughs and sneezes all the way
from downstairs. Thomas was upstairs visiting mother, I didn’t want him to be here. We had enough
people here as it was.
I had never thought about if Philip would stay but he stayed the night, Lucinda and Laura slept in
Jane’s room. My room was too small to have anyone sleep in it, so I was glad it was mine for the first
time. Jane helped me prepare breakfast.
“Do you like him?” She asked me quietly.
“What? Who?”
“Philip.” She said impatiently. I looked up at her.
“Uh yeah, I guess.”
“What do you mean ‘you guess’?”
“Yeah. I like him, why?”
“I’m just asking, do you think mother likes him?” She seemed to be panicking slightly. I slowly
shrugged.
“I don’t know.” Jane sighed after I spoke.
“I don’t either... I wish she did like him. What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing. Did you set the plates?” Jane nodded. Slowly everyone made their way downstairs.
Lucinda spoke with Jane freely, she was easiest around Jane. The breakfast table was much quieter
without mother. I had delivered her and Thomas’s breakfast upstairs.
Breakfast consisted of toast and butter with a cup of tea for Philip, Jane and I. Laura spoke about
how she thought bread should be sold with butter already spread on it.
After breakfast, I had the whole day to myself. Philip was going to work in the shop since mother
wasn’t well and Jane worked in the attic making dresses. She and I were the only ones who could
make dresses in the family. I didn’t ask Jane or Philip how long they would be staying, but I hoped it
would be for a while. It felt great to have a day to myself.
I walked out of the house midday to take a walk. The air was already getting a bit colder, fall was
approaching rapidly. I buttoned up my coat and began walking around the town. Our town consisted
of mostly higher-middle class people. There were some people who also lived in the poorer part of
town too though.
“Arya!” I turned around and gasped as arms wrapped around me. It was only when the embrace
broke when I saw who it was. Anne. She attended my high school.
“Anne! I haven’t seen you in so long.”
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Continued
“It’s been forever hasn’t it? Oh Arya, I’ve missed you!”
“How has University been for you?”
“It’s just so much work, you wouldn’t believe it!”
I smiled, “Yeah. I guess I wouldn’t.”
She looked down. “Sorry. I forgot. I have tremendous news!”
“What?”
“Let’s go on a walk, we have so much to catch up on.” She said and we began walking through the
town.
“What’s the news?”
She smiled at the ground happily. “You know Benjamin that was a year older than us? You know
from last year? He used to live here?”
I nodded a faint memory coming back. “Yeah?”
“Well I met him at university and we became like really close and all, and then you wouldn’t believe it!”
“What?”
“He proposed to me!” She yelled as she stopped walking to turn around and grab my shoulders. “Can
you believe it?”
I wanted to be happy for her but I couldn’t help feelings slightly annoyed. I smiled at her.
“Congratulations.”
“You must help me with all the wedding plans!”
I smiled, “Who else would?” We continued walking and I noticed that she had started wearing
makeup too.
“Since when did you start wearing makeup, I thought you didn’t like it?” I asked her.
She looked down and blushed a bit, “We were so young back then Arya! I’ve changed and so have you.”
“It was only one year ago.”
“Well it seems like ages ago.” She spoke in such a dramatic tone, I felt irritated. I just nodded. We
walked in silence until she finally spoke.
“You barely talk anymore. You really must get out of your shop sometimes.”
“I’m out of the shop right now.”
“You know what I mean Arya.”
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I furrowed my eyebrows. “No I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well I suppose you wouldn’t realize how free you feel once you’re in University, away from home, but
that’s’ what I mean.”
“Maybe I don’t want to go to University.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” I bit my lip. Was Anne always this annoying?
“You’re such a drag now…” She said softly. I stopped walking.
“I have to go Anne, see you later.” I then walked away from her.
“But Arya-“I heard her call behind me. I walked down towards the market. I thought about the ball
and felt a twinge of excitement run through my body. I couldn’t get my mind off of what Anne had
said. She was getting married too? Everyone seemed to have grown up so fast and seemed so eager
to be pinned down with someone for the rest of their lives.
I was never going to marry. I remember talking to mother about it and how she laughed and said
everyone felt that way, but soon they changed. I wouldn’t change though; I would never change
because I didn’t want to change.
I walked back to the house and was surprised to see the shop was closed. I felt nervous as I walked
into the living room and saw no one there. I then walked upstairs and heard voices from upstairs.
I opened the door to mother’s room. She was sitting upright in her bed. She wasn’t wearing any
makeup, which surprised me. Everyone was sitting in her room.
“Mother, are you okay?” I asked as I found an empty spot on the bed and sat down next to her. Her
nose was red from blowing it so many times.
She smiled at me, “yes, just so tired.”
“She needs her rest.” Thomas said to all of us. We all slowly filed out of the room, Thomas following
us. We crept down the stairs and Thomas left to go back to his own home. We all sit in the living
room in silence.
“We just gave mother her medicine, that’s why she’s tired.” Jane said. I nodded. She sat down next to
Philip and I noticed how she casually looked at him and gave him a smile every once in a while. I was
sure they would soon get engaged as well, just like Anne.
Next morning, mother only got worse. Thomas was over again and my day was spent lazing about
once more. I couldn’t play piano because mother was sleeping and Jane and Philip handled the store,
I didn’t have much to do. Lucinda and Laura had a day off from school and they were playing in the
fields with their friends. I finally sat down with one of my favorite books called Wuthering Heights
by Emily Bronte. I had poured over this book so many times; I had it majority of it memorized
off by heart. My father had read it to me when I was very young; I remember asking him so many
questions. Questions I figured out myself over the years. I was far too young to understand the book,
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but now I understood everything and I found the book even more beautifully written.
The ball was only a week away, I would see the royal family and the duchess and her daughter. I
wasn’t sure if that was what I was eager for, but I was still keen for the day to arrive. Was I supposed
to wear something special? I longed to talk to someone about this, but I could only talk to Aunt
Josephine and she was away for the rest of the week.
She had given me all the details about what time I should arrive and where it was. It was at a theatre
room in town, I had never been but I know that mother had been there before. I would play the
music for the ball, in this case, piano.
I was too exhausted to read any further. I wasn’t big on love stories, but I absolutely loved this book.
I wasn’t far from the end but I had to stop reading for a while. I blinked a few times to get used to the
atmosphere again.
After dinner I continued reading and I finished the book for an uncounted number of times which I
knew were very high. I finally closed my exhausted eyes and blew out the lantern that sat next to my
bed and I fell fast asleep.
Chapter 4
The week passed slowly and finally it was the day of the ball. It was happening in the evening. The
doctor was coming today also, mother was still very sick which was strange. Philip and Jane had
announced that they were staying for a whole month because they had a break from university. I
didn’t find Philip’s presence strange anymore. After breakfast the doctor came in and mother had a
check up.
“How is she doctor?” I asked him.
His eyebrows were furrowed. “I can’t say anything. It seems like a regular cold, but if it was it should
have passed or at least grown milder by now. I will check up on her in a week. Until then it is crucial
she takes this medicine once every day.” He handed me a prescription and I nodded at him. I thanked
him as he left.
I looked down at the prescription. It was a medicine I had never heard of. An idea struck me; that
would be my excuse. I would go and buy the medicine.
I entered mother’s room. Thomas wasn’t there and I was glad he wasn’t. She smiled at me when I
entered she was reading in her bed. It was then that I noticed she really did appear to be sick. She
seemed very pale and frail.
“Mother? Are you alright?” I asked her. I didn’t need to fake a concerned voice, I was in reality
concerned.
She nodded at me, “what did the doctor say?”
I swallowed before I spoke. “Mother, I have to go into town to buy you the medicine. You need it.”
“You’re going now?”
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I nodded. “Jane and Philip are working in the shop.”
“Yes but, I’m sure Thomas could go. It will get dark soon.”
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I might be a bit late though, don’t worry.” I hoped it was believable. Mother
gave me an unsure look and then nodded.
“You should get some rest.” I said as I blew out her lantern. Mother curled up in her bed and I shut
the door behind me as I left. I walked into my attic and opened my dresser. What to wear?
I guess I didn’t have to wear anything special because I was just playing piano. I pulled out a dark
blue plain dress. I quickly changed into it and then stared at myself in the mirror. I re braided my
hair and let the braid fall behind me. I thought about wearing some makeup. I didn’t have any of my
own but I could borrow some of Jane’s or mother’s but that would be too embarrassing.
Mother had offered to buy me makeup many times but I refused. It’s not like makeup would change
how I looked. I grabbed my hat off of the dresser and quickly made my way downstairs. I told Jane I
was going to buy the medicine and that I might be late and then I left.
It was already getting dark outside, I wasn’t afraid though. I found the darkness peaceful in a way,
the darkness made me feel as if I was closer to the light. I knew the way to the theatre, even though I
had never been. I walked as the sun began to set.
When I arrived at the theater, it was dark. Our house wasn’t that far away but the sun didn’t take it’s
time to set. A man stood in front of the theater. He was tall and intimidating. I looked up at him.
“Excuse me-“
“Do you have you ticket?” He asked cutting me off.
“No, I’m-“
“No ticket, no entry.” He replied.
“Yes, but I’m the-“
“Didn’t you hear me little girl? No ticket. No entry.” He leaned in close to me as he spoke and I could
smell his foul breath.
“I am seventeen years old and I am playing piano for the ball, when the royal family finds out you
kicked out their pianist, I’m sure you’ll get what you deserve!” I snapped at him. I turned around.
“Stop!”
I faced him once again; a small smile tugging at my lips.
“Why didn’t you say so?” He asked as he pointed to the door to enter. I ignored his question and
made my way inside. I didn’t know where exactly I was, until a boy ran up to me.
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“Are you the pianist?” He asked me. He looked one or so years younger than me and he had curly
brown hair and green eyes. I gave him a small smile and nodded.
“Alright.” He said as he began walking and motioned for me to follow, “here’s the piano. The music
sheets are there. You basically just play them till the ball is finished. You can look over the sheets
now for a while, but don’t play.” He instructed me.
I nodded and looked over the sheets. It seemed easy enough. He leaned in next to me, “good luck and
have fun.”
I smiled at him. “Thank you, I will.”
He left to deal with everything else. I was sitting in an enormous hall to the side of it all. I was sure
no one would really notice me, but I didn’t care. The hall was decorated from top to bottom with
flowers and roses. It looked quite beautiful.
Guests starting coming in after a few minutes and I took a deep breath as the boy who I had met
earlier motioned for me to start playing. I began playing, my fingers were tensed up but after a few
minutes, they relaxed. I wasn’t facing the people attending the ball so occasionally I looked over my
shoulder to see how many people were there. Each time I looked, the number increased.
I played simple classical music that filled the room. I could tell it was a very expensive piano; it made
me feel a guilty pleasure inside. I wondered when the royalty was coming. I turned around once again
and watched men and women pair up and begin dancing with each other, no one looked my way.
After playing for an hour or so, I began to get tired. I saw the boy from earlier walk up to me.
“Hey, you okay?” He asked me.
I nodded. “Just a bit tired.”
“Take a break, I’ll take your spot for a while.”
I don’t look up at him, “Can you do that?”
“Play piano? Not as well as you, but I can play. Just get some air for a while. The royal family is
arriving soon any ways.”
I nod and slowly step away from the piano and he takes my spot. “Thank you.” I whisper as I quickly
straighten my dress and leave through the back door. The air outside is cool and refreshing. I take a
deep breath. It is now completely dark outside.
I decide to walk around for a while. I stare at the sky as I’m walking. There are no stars in the sky. The
moon shines brightly and I can feel the glow radiating off my skin. The moon kept the night eerily
dark and light at the same time. I slow down even more to admire the moon for a longer period of
time. People across the world were staring at the same moon as me.
I suddenly felt myself slam hard against something or someone. I fall to the ground and I hear a
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noise sounding like something between a gasp and a grunt. I get back up in an instance and dust of
my dress. Hear the voice speak. It was a someone.
“Watch where you’re going!” It snaps. The voice is low and slightly raspy. The light from the moon
outlines a face in front of me. A pale face stares back at me, his golden eyes flashing in the dark. The
boy has raven black hair and he is taller than me. The feature that surprises me the most is a scar on
his left eye. I narrow my eyes at him.
“Why don’t you watch where you are going?” I snap back at him.
He stares intently at me in the dark and I feel a shiver run down my spine. I look away from his eyes
and stare past him. “Do you know who I am?” The arrogance in his voice makes me cringe.
“No, I do not know who you are. If you were of any importance to me, I would most surely know who
you are.” I say to him daring to look into his eyes as I speak.
He laughs in a scornful tone and then he stares right into my eyes. I inch back slightly. “Well then
you should learn.” He whispers loud enough so I can hear. He then walks past me brushing my
shoulder as he does. I tense up and I don’t turn around to watch him leave.
He was even worse than Peter. I slowly make my way back to the ball. My cheeks feel warm as I walk
back into the ballroom and take my seat once more.
“Thank you.” I whisper once more to the boy whose name I still didn’t know. He gives me a small
smile and leans in close to me. “The royals have arrived.”
I turn in my stool to face the front where the stage is. There is a man standing there. Was he the
king? He looked just as I imagined him to look. He was wearing silk robes with a large fur collar. He
had many rings on his fingers. He had a short and clean beard that connected with his moustache.
He had golden eyes.
“Welcome! Welcome! We would like to thank you all for coming to attend this ball in honor of the
Duchess and her daughter of Brugnure.” He announces grandly.
A few more people walked onto the stage. A beautiful and tall woman, the queen. Then the princess
entered. Lastly a boy entered. My eyes widened. I should have known. Standing on the stage smiling
arrogantly was the rude boy I had bumped into earlier. He stood with pride wearing special robes.
He was extremely handsome, just like how Aunt Josephine used to tell me. There is no point in good
looks if you don’t have a good attitude.
Next the Duchess and her daughter of Brugnure entered. The duchess was a large woman with her
hair held up in a tall bun. She was wearing a fancy gown that contrasted with her blue eyes. The
princess was a pretty girl, looking about my age. She had light brown hair and blue eyes like her
mother. She had a small, shy smile planted on her face. She was wearing a light purple dress with
large puffed sleeves.
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The King began greeting with some ambassadors and the rest of the royals stood and smiled at the
audience. I stared at the Prince. He suddenly turned and caught my eye. I saw his eyebrows inch up
slightly and an amused smile cross his face. I quickly looked away.
After a few minutes, the boy signaled me to start playing piano once more. I wasn’t playing as well
because I kept turning to watch. The prince was taking turns dancing with about every girl in the
ballroom Everyone had a partner, even the duchess. The boy came and stood next to me.
“You doing fine?” He asked me.
I smiled and nodded.
“By the way, my name is Aaron.” He said softly. It was only then that I realized he had a hint of a
British accent in his voice.
“My name is Arya.” I said replying to him.
“Beautiful name.”
“Thank you.” I played and tried to force myself to not look back at who the prince was dancing with
for the rest of the night. The last dance was with the Prince and the Duchess’s daughter. Finally, the
ball came to an end. I said goodbye to Aaron and I left.
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 8
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Grade 12
www.penstrokes.ddsbschools.ca
Room 101
By Zoe Williams
FADE IN:
EXT. THE STREETS OF DOWNTOWN TORONTO—AFTERNOON
Rush hour hits the busy streets of Toronto and cars crawl past the Allstate car insurance office
building. The setting sun glares against the building’s glass windows.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. ALLSTATE CAR INSURANCE CUBICLE—AFTERNOON
After a long day of work, CAROLINE clears her desk, tidies her cubicle and packs stacks of papers
into her leather brief case. She pushes in her chair, puts on her jacket and makes her way down the
cubicle aisle.
CAROLINE
Have a good weekend Joan! I’ll see you Monday morning.
CAROLINE walks past JOAN as her head peaks out from her grey cubicle walls.
JOAN
Oh! You’re finally free? I’ll be finishing up in just a minute if you wanted a ride? The weather isn’t too
kind out there right now.
CAROLINE
No, no. It’s quite alright. I have some important errands and things to pick up along the way.
I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting anyway.
JOAN
Are you sure? I don’t mind at all Caroline. I have a few things I need to grab for dinner anyway.
JOAN grabs her jacket from the coat hanger on the wall and wraps her scarf around her neck.
JOAN
(CONTINUING)
Could I at least drop you off at the stop?
Continued
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 12
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CAROLINE
(shaking her head)
It’s alright hun. I’ll see you Monday, okay? Kiss the girls for me!
CAROLINE walks away while zipping up her jacket. She passes the elevator and walks into:
INT. ALLSTATE CAR INSURANCE OFFICE BUILDING STAIRWELL AFTERNOON
CAROLINE makes her way down three flights of stairs.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. YONGE STREET—AFTERNOON
CAROLINE pushes through the building’s doors and merges with the crowd of people pushing by on
the sidewalk. With the cold winter wind smacking her across the face, she pulls her scarf up to her
mouth and heads down Yonge Street. She passes a Hasty Market, turns around then walks into:
INT. HASTY MARKET CONVENIENCE STORE—AFTERNOON
CAROLINE scans up and down the aisles and picks up a chocolate bar.
CAROLINE
(looking about the room and sadly chuckling to herself)
Some errands huh?
She then heads over to the refrigerator and takes out a bag of skim milk then puts it back for a bag of
2%. CAROLINE walks over to the counter and greets the clerk with a half-smile.
CLERK
Cold weather huh? I hate the snow.
CAROLINE nods. The CLERK scans her items.
CLERK
Anything else for today?
CAROLINE
(quietly)
That’s it thanks.
CLERK
$4.87
Continued
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Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 12
EXT. OUTSIDE THE CONVENIENT STORE ON THE STREET—AFTERNOON
A taxi driver slams on his breaks and a red truck honks his horn then rear-ends the yellow cab. The
cab driver steps out of his vehicle and starts yelling at the driver of the red truck.
INT. HASTY MARKET CONVENIENT STORE—AFTERNOON
CAROLINE looks outside the window and a look of fear strikes her face. She is completely zoned out,
focusing only on the car crash and the ensuing loud argument between the drivers. She stares at the
cars and the point of collision then starts mumbling to herself.
CLERK (O.S.) Miss? Hello? $4.87.
CAROLINE snaps out of it and looks back at the clerk.
CAROLINE
Sorry. Ha-ha, it’s been a long day. How much did you say?
CLERK $4.87 please.
CAROLINE hands the clerk a five dollar bill, picks up the plastic bag and leaves the store turning
back onto:
EXT. YONGE STREET - SUNSET
CAROLINE continues to walk for another hour while juggling her brief case and the plastic bag that’s
being blown in the wind.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. RESEDENTIAL NEIGHBORHOOD—EVENING
CAROLINE turns into a residential neighborhood and continues walking until she reaches the end
of the street. She walks up to a small bungalow with a car parked in the driveway that’s completely
covered in snow. She frisks her pockets looking for her keys. She finds them, unlocks the door, and
then steps into:
INT. CAROLINE’S BUNGALOW—EVENING
CAROLINE closes the door behind her and sets her house keys on the side table next to a picture
frame of her, a man and a baby.
CAROLINE
(almost whispering to the picture) Hello Tom.
She stomps her feet on the house mat, kicking the snow off of her boots, pulls down her scarf and
unties her shoelaces.
CAROLINE
Continued
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 12
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(yelling while taking off her shoes)
Hello? Jake? Suzie, you still here?
SUZIE (O.S) Yes Mrs. Edgehill!
SUZIE appears from the kitchen and walks over to the front door to greet CAROLINE.
SUZIE
Hello! Sorry, I was just grabbing something for Jacob to eat. I made some Mac n’ cheese—there’s
some extra on the stove.
CAROLINE
Ugh, I really appreciate it. Thank you so much sweetie.
SUZIE
(smiling) Anytime!
CAROLINE walks into:
INT. KITCHEN—EVENING
JAKE is sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner.
JAKE
(with a mouth full of food) Hey momma!!
CAROLINE
Hello honey! Being a good boy?
JAKE
(nodding his head) Mhm!
CAROLINE walks over to JAKE and kisses him on the forehead. She turns back to SUZIE who is
standing in the door way of the kitchen with her jacket in her hand.
CAROLINE
(while sighing)
Alrighty. Did you call your mom already?
SUZIE
Yeah. She’s still stuck in traffic. She won’t be here until around nine or something so I’m just gonna
hop on the bus.
Continued
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Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 12
CAROLINE
Are you sure? You’re welcome to wait here y’know?
SUZIE puts on her jacket and zips it up
SUZIE
That’s okay Mrs. Edgehill. I have some studying to do so I should just head home.
CAROLINE
Alright honey, be safe!
SUZIE exits the house closing the front door loudly behind her. CAROLINE picks up JAKE’S empty
plate and puts it in the sink
CAROLINE
(while turning on the kitchen faucet)
Alright Jake, ready for a bath?
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. BATHROOM—NIGHT
JAKE is sitting in the bathtub while CAROLINE sits on the edge of the tub.
JAKE
(whining)
Mom, I can do it myself.
CAROLINE
Fine, but do it properly, or else you’re going to be taking another bath mister.
JAKE lathers himself down with the luffa while humming to himself. CAROLINE zones out.
BEGIN FLASHBACK:
EXT. YONGE STREET—EVENING
Cars are zooming by on the busy streets of downtown Toronto. CAROLINE is sitting in the
passenger seat of a yellow Pontiac Sunfire rubbing the back of the driver’s neck.
CAROLINE
Hun, we never stopped at the grocery store. There’s no milk in the house for Jake.
Continued
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 12
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TOM
Oh damn. Doesn’t he still use formula?
CAROLINE
No Tom... he’s three and a half years old. He’s not a baby anymore.
TOM
(laughing)
Could’ve fooled me. Ha-ha. No worries, I’ll find a convenient store.
TOM parks on the side of the road, by a fire hydrant, in front of a Hasty Market.
TOM
Run in quickly and pick up a bag. I can’t stay here for long or else I’ll get a ticket.
CAROLINE
(Unbuckling her seatbelt) Alright.
CAROLINE walks up to the convenient store door, stops, then walks back to the car window.
CAROLINE
Do we usually buy 2% or skim? I can never remember...
TOM
It doesn’t matter Care, just pick one. Quickly.
CAROLINE quickly runs into:
INT. HASTY MARKET—EVENING
The doorbell dings. CAROLINE walks to the back of the store, to the refrigerator, to find some milk.
She picks up a bag of 2% milk then puts it back for skim.
JAKE (V.O) Mom? Mom?
END OF FLASHBACK:
INT. BATHROOM—EVENING
CAROLINE snaps out of her daze and looks down at JAKE sitting in the bathtub
JAKE Mom? I’m done.
Continued
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Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 12
CAROLINE
Oh, sorry honey. Just rinse off and go get dressed into your PJS, okay?
CAROLINE unplugs the bathtub plug.
INT. LIVING ROOM—NIGHT
CAROLINE curls up on the living room sofa reading a newspaper. She sets aside a glass of milk on
the side table and turns the television on. CP24, the local news channel, comes on the screen. JAKE
is sitting in the middle of the living room floor playing with two Hot Wheels cars.
BEGIN FLASHBACK:
EXT. YONGE STREET—EVENING
Tires screech loudly then stop with a big crash followed by a loud boom. A delivery truck crashes into
the parked yellow Pontiac Sunfire, smashing it into the fire hydrant. The Pontiac lights on fire and
the fire hydrant spews water everywhere.
INT. HASTY MARKET—EVENING
The Hasty Market store clerk runs to the window and puts her hands to her mouth.
CLERK Oh my God...
CAROLINE turns around dropping the bag of milk on the floor. It bursts spilling milk everywhere.
She runs to the store window and looks outside, her jaw drops.
CAROLINE runs outside the store:
EXT. YONGE STREET—EVENING
CAROLINE runs up to the fire.
CAROLINE
(screaming at and crying)
OH MY GOD. SOMEBODY HELP! PLEASE
HELP! SOMEBODY CALL 9-1-1! PLEASE! OH GOD! HELP! HELP! PLEASE OH GOD! OH GOD! OH
GOD!
END OF FLASHBACK:
INT. LIVING ROOM—NIGHT
JAKE continues to play with his toys smashing one into the other. CAROLINE moves the newspaper
from her face and watches as JAKE plays with his cars. CAROLINE bites her lip and fidgets nervously
in the sofa.
Continued
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 12
131
JAKE
Boom. Boom. Boom.
CAROLINE (moving the paper back into her face) Settle down Jake.
JAKE
(continuing to smash the cars together) Vroom! Vroom!
CAROLINE
Jake. I said settle down.
JAKE
(smashing cars together louder)
(MORE)
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
JAKE (cont’d) Vroom! Vroom! Vrooooom!
CAROLINE JAKE!
CAROLINE throws the newspaper down on the sofa and grabs the TV remote. She turns the volume
up trying to drown JAKE out with the news reporter’s voice.
NEWSREPORTER --and here is your local traffic report brought to you by CP24-CAROLINE
(shouting) ENOUGH!
JAKE
VROOM! VROOM! VROOM!
CAROLINE turns the volume up louder and louder.
NEWSREPORTER
--TRAFFIC EAST BOUND OF THE 401-CAROLINE
(screaming) JAKE!!!
NEWSREPORTER
Continued
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Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 12
--A COLLISION AT YONGE AND EGLINTON CAUSING TRAFFIC EAST BOUND OF THE 401-JAKE
VROOM. VROOM. VROOM. ERRRRRKKS. SMASH... WEE WOO WEE WOO.
CAROLINE
(screaming)
I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!!!
CAROLINE grabs JAKE’s toys and throws them into the television set knocking over her glass of
milk. Milk splashes all over the place, including all over JAKE and CAROLINE. The television screen
shatters and the reporter’s voice cuts out.
CAROLINE
(cringing and gasping for words)
O-o-oh God. Jake I’m...
(CONTINUED)
CONTINUED:
JAKE stares blankly at the two broken cars. Its pieces covered in milk and spread across the living
room carpet.
JAKE
(whispering)
Wee woo wee woo wee woo...
FADE OUT:
THE END
Continued
Pen Strokes 2013 Grade 12
133
Durham District School Board
Martyn Beckett
Director of Education
Durham District School Board
Luigia Ayotte
Superintendent of Education/Programs
Durham District School Board
For more information, contact Michael Black at
black_michael@durham.edu.on.ca