The UNSPOKEN

Every morning I wake up with dreams—

aspirations and hopes and goals.

But I don’t have a plan or even a team—

it makes me feel like a fool. 

I spend the day dreaming,

with everything seeming, 

so far away and inaccessible. 

Every night I fall asleep with my dreams—

burning bright and hard in my soul. 

They never dull or lose their gleam—

digging a never ending deepening hole. 

I spend the night dreaming,

with everything seeming,

so far away and unreachable.

I’m here

But I’m not

They look at me

But they don’t see me

They stare at me

But they don’t acknowledge me

They admire me

But they don’t know me

Present, then gone

A smile, then a yawn

I’m here

But I’m not

leapfrog

I think you fancy your hops

Around hearts

To add to your appeal

The toil, the catch,

It worked on me too

Your footprints are left on my heart

Of your double-footed jumps

But if you leapfrog long enough

You’ll see

Your sneakers will trip

In their own idiocy to compete

extraordinary creature

by Angela Ke 

An average, ordinary boy was walking home from school one day when he came across a package sitting on the street. With his curiosity piqued, he picked it up and looked at the label. “Transform Into The Most Extraordinary Creature In History!” the label read. A picture on the back depicted the effects that the serum inside would have on the consumer, and what the end result would be. The boy’s eyes widened. He had always wanted to be an “extraordinary creature.”

Running home, he thrust the package into his brother’s face and breathlessly exclaimed what it would do. His excitement was contagious, and soon he was downing the red serum inside, with his brother standing next to him as backup, in case something went wrong. 

“Well?” The boy asked, once he had swallowed the serum. “How do I look?”

His brother shook his head with deflated eyes. “The same as always. Fangs and all. I’m telling you, it’s impossible for a vampire to become a human.”

i didn’t mean to kill her

by Angela Ke 

“I didn’t mean to kill her, I swear.”

The remnants of the scene weren’t doing much in my favor. Broken glass was scattered across the floor, sickenly sharp shards jutting out in unbecoming angles. My friend Derek was standing there, his face twisted in despair and anger, then drawn back in disbelief. We both stared down at her dead body, limp and lifeless. The carpet below her was soaked. Derek had walked in just seconds before, to find me standing over Goldie’s body, my hands outstretched. 

I gulped. I hoped Derek would believe that I didn’t do it on purpose. As my best friend, it was his duty to believe me. But Goldie was the love of his life. The one he treasured most. He’d known her since only the summer, but she had immediately and effectively taken my role as The Most Important Female In Derek’s Life. Well, other than his mom. Derek still invited me over all the time, but Goldie was always there too. We would be listening to records, laying on his bedroom floor, and Derek would ask, “You like the music, Goldie?” And she would be wiggling her head back and forth to the beat and he’d smile at me like, “How cute is she?” 

I got why Derek liked Goldie so much. I mean, she was cute and innocent and low-maintenance. But she wasn’t worth all the fuss Derek put up about her. I thought it would be just a summer thing, that Derek would get tired of her soon enough, but by fall, it was evident she wasn’t going anywhere. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. This afternoon I was over at his house, with Goldie there, of course. We were playing cards when his mom yelled from downstairs that he needed to take out the trash right now before the garbage men came to pick it up. So he raced out of the room and galloped down the stairs. It was just Goldie and me left alone. I shuffled my cards in my hands and tried to avoid looking at her. I knew Derek would be back in a couple minutes. If I wanted to act, I had to act now. So I did. I killed her. I killed her, okay? I killed Goldie!

Only now, with Derek’s face contorted in absolute and utter despair, I felt almost guilty. What kind of a best friend am I? Derek knelt down at her side and reached out to touch her face. Then he broke down crying, his hands over his eyes, whispering “Goldie,” between sobs. I stood there awkwardly. What was I supposed to do? I reached down and put my hand on his shoulder, then lowered myself down to my knees at his side. My knees squelched on the soaked carpet. I winced. It really was a gruesome scene. 

“Derek, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know,” he interrupted me, lowering his hands and turning to face me. “I know you would never do such a thing. I know it was an accident. It’s just, Goldie—” his voice broke and I rubbed his back as his wails echoed through the room. I hoped his mom wouldn’t come up and ask what was wrong. 

After Derek collected himself, we cleaned up the glass and put Goldie in a ziploc bag and buried her outside. We both bowed our heads in remembrance then went back inside to listen to some records. 

Goldie was only a fish, after all.