Arrow Online 2025 Post #8

Please enjoy this final post of the 2025 Online Arrow! Congratulations to all of our creative middle schoolers!

The hardcopy magazine is published and has been released. In the coming days, a flippable PDF version of that will be available here to view online as well.

Have a wonderful summer everyone!

Maddy C. ’29

Maddy C. ’29

Joe B. ’31

Anderson F. ’31

Anderson F. ’31

Anderson F. ’31

Megan W. ’31

Megan W. ’31

Megan W. ’31

Maggie S. ’31

Maggie S. ’31

Alexa G. ’31

Arianna C. ’31

Arianna C. ’31

Arianna C. ’31

Audrey M. ’31

Audrey M. ’31

Sophie P. ’30

Tristan S. ’30

Tristan S. ’30

Tristan S. ’30

Tristan S. ’30

Tristan S. ’30

Tristan S. ’30

Tristan S. ’30

Jake G. ’30

Misha P. ’30

Shaleen S. ’30

Shaleen S. ’30

Shaleen S. ’30

Shaleen S. ’30

Shaleen S. ’30

Shaleen S. ’30

Sahil S. ’30

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Arrow Online 2025 Post #7

Please enjoy this sampling of writing from our prolific 7th graders:

        The Tale of Kevin and Shaq

by: Isla D. and Claire R.

It was a blissful starry night in a rural Oklahoman farm belonging to failed comedian, Kevin Hart. 

Kevin was a simple man, all he needed was his true love and their beautiful babies (the cows). He and his husband of twenty five happy years, Shaquille O’Neal, were discussing their plans for their now full-grown cows. 

“Let’s call Dr. Dolittle in the morning to let the cows know they’re going to be sent to the slaughter house.” Kevin looked mortified as he heard his husband’s statement. 

“But Shaq! We can’t do that to them. They’re our babies, our children, our family!” Tears welled in Kevin’s eyes as he spoke. A whimper escaped his mouth. Little did the couple know that the cows were actually right outside the house, listening discreetly. 

Shaquille banged his hands on the table, finished with Kevin’s whining. “We’re killing them!” he exclaimed, “End of discussion!” 

As the argument ended and the secret was revealed to the poor animals all they could do is feel betrayed but their owners. These were the same people who have been there for them since birth.

 “They saved my great, great, great grandfather from death, and now we’re next on the chopping book!” the elder cow gasped and exclaimed, absolutely flabbergasted by the revelation that they were about to be food for those greedy, hungry, horrible humans.  The patterned pals did only what they could do, they ran away! 

They ran as fast as their legs would dare to carry them. Miles and miles away. Running at the speed of light, or so they thought. They left first thing in the morning, waking up particularly early to get a jump start on the run. They ran for the fields, disappearing into the sunrise, never ever to be seen again. That was the last the farmers ever saw of them.

 Poor Kevin was depressed for the rest of his life.

 

Jumpation Nation

by: Kyla J. and Erin O.

Dear Diary,

     Today I got jumped on a trail by my friends, the Jumpation Nation. 

I felt really betrayed however I rose up and woke up stronger. The reason I was jumped was 

because I had known a secret. Antonio had taken a golden plated stick. He had stolen that 

stick when he ran away from the gods since he had to protect his younger sister 

Perthowmeowl and the god Harthemulo got very angry and attacked him. 

     Harthemulo had struck him with a bolt of lightning, leaving Antonio bruised, bloody and 

blue laying on the rocky ground with nothing left to do but to wonder if he would survive 

the night. I had passed Antonio at the time, and I ran. Terrified that the gods would do the 

same to me and Antonio screamed as I ran, “I will haunt you, but tell the gods that i am 

only laying here dying, so you can watch me die. It was always my plan.”

Dear Diary,

     I recently tracked down the Jumpation Nation to find Antiono and Perthowmewol 

because  I needed the money because I was not going to lie. I have a recent loss of money 

so I went to the place I got jumped and I was just being really annoying so I could get 

jumped again. I was just standing there waiting patiently for like years and decades when 

my cuz and friends jumped me. I yelled at the top of my lungs and exclaimed “STOP I 

DON’T CONSENT!”  They listened to me and stopped. Then I asked them where Antonio 

was and they said follow the gravel where stars meet the Achilles heel. I was really 

confused but I continued to run because daylight was breaking. Finally I found a tiny 

cottage to find Antonio.  I knocked on the door and I did a jump split out of fear because I 

saw Antonio. Than he did a jump split out of excitement then, I skipped far far away.

THE FREAKY DEAKY END!!

 

My creepy house: Part 1

by: Mo Ting W.

As I was growing up I loved sharing and listening to terrifying stories about my great ancestors. 

One of them was talking about how one of my ancestors went in a car thinking it was just someone who would pick her up. Instead, that driver actually kidnapped her and she was never seen again. 

I was born into a wealthy family, so the maids would usually tell the stories. My parents were always working on a big project and going to places across the world.

 I didn’t know what they did for a living, but I didn’t care. I was the only child so I got everything, but it was kind of lonely sometimes. The nannies would try to play with me but it honestly got so boring.

When I was about 8 years old I felt something odd about our house. There were so many rooms I wasn’t allowed to go in and that got on my nerves a bit. 

Whenever my best friend Niomi came to my house she would always ask “Angelica, why are these doors always locked?” 

I would always come up with the weirdest excuse such as my mom’s cats living there. Obviously I was wondering in my head but I didn’t want my friend to keep asking that same question. But when I grew older I actually wanted to see what was in the locked doors, so when I was home alone with only the chef, I tried unlocking that door with a paperclip. 

I didn’t work sadly, so then I was about to kick open the door when suddenly my parents came back home. I quickly ran to my room and pretended to sleep. Hopefully they never suspected a thing. Soon after I heard my parents go to that mysterious room and then locked the door. Something was up so I hurried back and overheard what they were saying. They said something about a safe and said a code which I was guessing was the safe’s password. I wrote it down and put it in my room.

Title: My creepy house Part 2

A few years later when I was 13 Niomi came to my house and I finally told her that there wasn’t junk in the locked rooms. I told her the truth and that only my parents knew what was in there. 

We both decided one day we could go check it out. A week later my parents were out of town and the maids were off so I called Niomi. Niomi helped me unlock the door because she was one of the smartest people in our grade. 

When she was younger she could solve five Rubik’s cubes in ten seconds. After twenty minutes of hard and exhausting work from Niomi, the door finally flew open. Something was quite of,f though.

 It looked like a plain normal room with nothing in it, but then I saw a mysterious bookshelf. Niomi and I hurried over to the book shelf and saw a small red button. We both decided to press it not knowing what was going to happen.

The bookshelf opened up and there was a big humongous safe. It was as big as  two full refrigerators. 

My parents betrayed me. They always told me lies and now I’m so confused. I was mortified by what just happened. The only question I kept on asking in my head was: why did they save all of this money? I knew they were rich but I didn’t know they had more than a billion dollars in a safe. I ran away from my house and just walked to my favorite park.

I stayed at that park for hours and then I asked Niomi if I could stay at her house. She obviously said yes. So I stayed at her house for a long time. After three days my parents came back and I saw many “Missing” posters outside. I really didn’t want to go back home after my parents betrayed me. People could see my face on the posters on tv.

After a few days people came to Niomi’s house. They finally found me and when I went back to my parents’ house, I shouted at them. Surprisingly, they said something and I was so shocked. They said they were giving all of that money to charity and I was surprised. I was so grateful and then hugged them at the end

 

Game Night

A story by Navika K.

Game Night, it all comes down to this.

 I make the first bet – “raise” I say  – as I add two more which totals up to five. 

I don’t have good cards but they don’t know that.

 I look over and examine the next person’s face. 

Their eyebrow is lowered slightly,  seemingly in frustration. 

I then noticed their lips pressed together in defeat. 

“Fold” they said while they put their cards down and looked away in embarrassment. 

They raised the pot last round, now making them look like a complete fool. I glance at the next person to see their facial expressions. They look very nervous even from the moment they sat down. They looked freshly 21. 

I could just tell it was their first time gambling probably well all I really knew about them was that they were nervous and I could use that.  I smirked like I had already won the entire game and that was enough to make them crack  – “fold” they said.

 I turned my head to my partner;  he already knew exactly what to do – we had already agreed on this ahead of time: fold. Then all I would have to worry about is the next play. 

”Raise” he said.

What? 

This?  How could he betray me like this?

All right – time to end this.

 “Freeze NYPD” I said as I pulled out my badge.

 “You are under arrest for running a illegal gambling room.” 

The first guy just accepted defeat.  The next froze and my partner started to arrest and put handcuffs on in the next moment.

 The dealer started to run.  I chased after him and shouted “STOP!‘ He runs into a dead end and then like magic he disappears around the corner without a trace leaving nothing but a poker face.

 

Cookie Clicker

by: Navon R.

I just can’t believe the grandmas have betrayed  me and now their evil hive mind of the grandmas is trying to take my golden cookies.

  They sent their wrinklers (the cookie-eating demons) brought  by the grandmas. 

They are coming  to the cookie temple where the golden cookies are being held under the protection of my cookie wizards but it is not enough to stop the evil grandmas and the demonic cookie-eating wrinklers. 

It is not all lost… wait – I’ve  got it. The wizards won’t be able to hold the grandmas for long but they should be able to hold the grandmas’ forces long enough for me to send the golden cookies on the chocolate transport rockets to hide the golden cookies  on  one of the cookie planets like Cookenia… that’s it.

30 days later  

It’s over, the grandmas are closing in and I don’t have  much  time left. All I hope is that the golden cookies are safe on the cookie planet Cookenia. 

All my foci are either destroyed (mostly) or were sent with the golden cookies  to Cookenia . I can’t run from the evil grandmas  and their demonic cookie-eating soldiers any more. I must stand and fight. 

I still have enough force to fight and maybe scare away the  grandmas but it is unlikely. 

“They are approaching,” screams a cookie farmer –

“Hold fast,  they are charging, “ I ordered.

We are cooked,  I thought,  but then suddenly the golden cookies and what I sent with them attack the grandmas.

They run as their forces are disseminated – they can run forever.  Eventually we catch up to them and then we enslave the grandmas like before and we burn the bingo center to the ground destroying the grand hive mind and ability to spawn wrinklers and obtain upgrades by themselves .

 

Gandwarf and The Story of Upper Earth:

A Story by Ryan L.

In the land of Upper Earth, demonic monsters run wild and the threat of the great sorcerer Sourmon grows ever looming.

 If he gets his hand on the Bracelet of Power, he can assume ghost form and become immortal. 

The only thing standing between him and that bracelet is Froyo and Gandwarf. 

Gandwarf is a hobbit who is the son of Billboard.

 Froyo is a wizard who is both wise and extremely powerful. 

Froyo is traveling to the Dire from Mount Fun to destroy the Bracelet. 

Froyo knows in order to make it to the Dire they must pass over the Hobbit’s mine to get to the Dwarfian shire. The Hobbit’s  mine had been abandoned. 

Little did Gandwarf and Froyo know the Galfrog was living there. When they went to cross a rope bridge on the way out, they saw the Galfrog there.

 He came up and saw his buddy Gandwarf. Gandwarf was excited to see his friend. 

The Galfrog said to him, “You shall pass.” 

Gandwarf then said to him “Great, imagine we had fought or something like that and then we fell. Would have been terrible.” 

Froyo then told Gandwarf he had to leave. 

After Froyo left Gandwarf ran into Pollen who was a large dwarf who was very young. Pollen wanted to help Gandwarf destroy the bracelet. Pollen helped Gandwarf get into the Shire. When they got to the Shire, Pollen and Gandwarf noticed that there was nobody there. They didn’t really care. They destroyed the Bracelet. 

Sourman then got really angry because he thought the bracelet was still at Mount Fun and that’s why nobody was there when Pollen and Gandwarf went to the Shire. 

Sourman then died because the bracelet no longer existed. Froyo went to congratulate Pollen and Gandwarf but it turned out they went back to Mount Fun. 

Pollen and Gandwarf became heroes and became the kings of Mount Fun. 

 

On a Friday Evening

by: Ryan L.

On a friday evening, the wind whisks through my hair.

The wind whisks through my hair Friday evening.

Friday evening the fire crackles.

The fire crackles on Friday. 

The ground shakes.

Friday ground, 

water.

 

The First Snow

by: Shaleen S.

I love the snow! It’s like magic when the first big snow happens every winter. As soon as I see the snow falling, I get really excited. I put my jacket and gloves on, and go outside. The first thing I always do is get my sled, and climb the huge hill in my backyard. Then I sit down, and sled down at super speed. It is so much fun! My brother always joins me, and then we sled together, and even have snowball fights. We are sometimes outside for hours, and it really is one of my favorite times of year.

 

Where are you from?

by: Sophie W.

 

Where are you from?

they ask.

I’m from New York, yes

but I’m also from red, white, and blue, 

in all arrangements.

I’m from booming music and tall buildings.

I’m from trifling fathers and trifling mothers,

I’m from projects in projects,

I come from shouting matches to be heard

I  come from diversity and variety

I come from struggles and more struggles.

I come from crying mothers and crying fathers, noticing the problems of today

I’m from gum on the streets and just hearing about guns being shot

I’m from moving here and there.

I’m from “Wait until I get paid.”

I’m from “on my mother”.

I  come from a cycle that broke a cycle

I come from repetition, 

I come from trying to help what we cannot.

and from being what we are

Where do we come from?

they ask.

We’re from New York , yes

but we’re also from parks and Ubers,

we’re from schools and phony accents

we’re from cursing at a young age

to dying younger 

long live the youth.

We come from sound and noise

We come from sirens and shouts

We come from posh and poor

We come from, “good enough”

or “be better.

This is where we come from.

Where are you from?

they ask.

This is where we are from

 

untitled

by: Sophia W.

yesterday i was not the same person

i am today, and one day i will be someone completely different.

 

yesterday i sat criss-cross-apple-sauce 

with my peers, eyes wide imaginative.

yesterday i sat criss-cross-apple-sauce 

with my cousin in the kitchen

inhaling the fumes of sazón and adóbo.

yesterday i sat, criss-cross-apple-sauce

with my brother, listening to the back and forth of my parents.

yesterday i sat criss-cross-apple-sauce on my brother’s bed, telling him to look at me,

telling him not to listen to the yelling.

 

today i sit, legs crossed at my desk,

scribbling away at a drawing.

today i sit, legs crossed on a school chair and mindlessly watching my surroundings.

today i sit, legs crossed at my vanity,

looking in the mirror at irrelevance.

 

today i sit, legs crossed at my dining chair,

listening to my mother explain her divorce.

today i sit, legs crossed on my couch,

my fathering walking in carrying bags of groceries.

today i sit, legs crossed in the backseat, 

headphones on but eyes open.

 

one day i will be sitting however i please.

     one day i won’t be stuck in a routine, 

one day i won’t need to sit the same way

and focus on what i don’t need to focus on.

one day, i’ll be perfectly fine in my own world.

 

Truly George

by: Zachary J.

George was a curious boy growing up. He wanted to be an astronaut. However George wasn’t the only one who wanted to be an astronaut. 

His biggest enemy was Jeffery Jonas. This kid was not only better than George in every category he was always first. George on the other hand was always second. George’s dream was to be in the astronaut academy. 

Only one person is accepted every year. Only two people were trying out for the academy. George was feeling defeated. As we all know the other person trying out was Jeffery Jonas. George had to make a plan so he grabbed his buddy Greg. 

Greg was a genius but that man is also a life hacker. So they went to the lab. They had three gigantic ideas. One was to fake his grades and act super smart. The consequence would be getting kicked out of school.

The second idea was to take Jeffery’s computer and break it. They had to make Jeffery not focus on school. However the consequence for this idea was that George wouldn’t be able to focus on his own work. Their last idea was to act as the principal and call his mom by suspending him. This consequence would be him being kicked out of school. 

They decided to do idea two, making him not focused on school. First when they got to school the next day they filled his backpack with brown apples. This made his computer and all of his materials malfunction. This made him go spend the whole week without his computer and all his studies. Now George was ahead. He had only two more weeks left until the academy sent him the letter. But Jeffery had a secret. His dad was the owner of the academy so no matter what he was going to get in. 

Then the day came the letter. It said “George, thank you for applying however we unfortunately have denied your application. Try next time.”

untitled

by: Sophia W.

 

i live poked and prodded,

pushed to a standard that i have lived by,

to a standard engraved in my arm

and in my head,

the standard that says that i must do good,

or else there will be consequences.

the standard that says i am perfect, that says

i am a bragging point,

yes, i am the not-so-perfect 

perfect child,         

my motivation is not my own,

my motivation is theirs,

my motivation is to make them proud.

i tell myself,

don’t be loud,

don’t be so proud,

focus, focus, focus

my good standing is not my own,

my success influenced and instilled 

by those who raised me,

by those who enforce these standards,

those who i need to be good enough for,

at first,

i wanted to be here,

where i am,

to be able to prove

I’m good. And I can be better,”

but those words have twisted and turned,

turned into something influenced by the fact i need to be better,

turned into “Why am I not the best?

my parents, with no ill intentions,

push and push and prod,

they enforce and influence and illustrate,

that i am theirs and i am smart,

especially when i do good.

i have to do good,

not so i’m proud, 

but so they are.

 

Mashed Potatoes

by: Daniel M.

Mashed potatoes, creamy and light,
Whipped to perfection, soft and white.
Buttery swirls that melt on your tongue,
A comfort in every bite, old and young.

Savor the warmth, the velvet feel,
A side dish that’s simple yet surreal.
Piled high on plates with love and care,
A dish that says, “There’s joy to share.”

Golden flecks of garlic, herbs so mild,

 

Ode to a Turkey

by: Daniel M.

Golden turkey, rich and warm,
Roasted perfect, soft, and charmed.
Basted in its savory blend,
A feast that calls to family and friends.

Crisp on the outside, tender within,
Each bite a memory, sweet as sin.
The scent of herbs, the crackling skin,
A symbol of togetherness – where we begin.

With every carving, love is spread,
A moment shared, our hearts…

 

Lebron

by: Jake G.

From Akron roots to hardwood fame,
He changed the league, redefined the game.
Power, grace he does it all,
A king who rose and won’t fall.

Four rings deep, still chasing more,
Legacy written, but he’s not done for.

 

Holiday Cheer

by: Sophie P.

Round the Earth, snow is a blight

‘cross the moors be fog and ice.

Through the north, the bird droves rise

flying higher, as if to spite

the creatures that were left behind.

 

But the sun is burning right.

And the smiles on the children’s faces

set a mother’s world alight.

Aflame

like logs lying in the fireplace,

like the fog on the winter pane

smeared by hands, love

now a stain. 

 

Excerpt – 

Betrayal, Runaway and a Secret

by: Drew M.

Once upon a time, there was a pizza slice. This pizza slice was the last of its pie, and it was in the freezer. 

All his friends got the chance to get eaten but he was forgotten about underneath all of the other foods: ice cream, frozen peas, and ice pops. He was sealed in a plastic bag, and this was very hard for him because he was extremely claustrophobic. 

Once, the pizza had heard from some wise tater tots that there was something called a “Freezer Rumble.” These happened once in a while, and if he could move a little more each time, he could possibly get out of that plastic bag. 

Later that afternoon, it happened and he moved a little more; this happened a few times. The pizza slice saw ice cream who he knew wasn’t reliable but hoped he could help him out of there by pushing him out the next time that the door opened. Ice cream was skeptical of this idea and wanted to help, but he said, “Sorry, pal. If you get out, they’ll see the mess back here. And I like being on the top shelf. It’s cold, but it’s elite.” So he wouldn’t help him. But the pizza slice found an opening in the back of the freezer when the door was opened. So he tried moving to that spot. It would take some difficult work, but he could pull it off. 

When the door opened, he jumped from his bag and landed a few inches away from the opening. THE HUMAN OPENING THE DOOR saw this and yelped, “DID THAT PIZZA JUST JUMP?!!”. The human picked the slice up and threw him in the compost bin. FINALLY, the slice was free and with his veggie buddies.  

 

Wild Bells

by: Sophie P.

 

On a cold, winter morning,

The mistress fell to her death,

The wild bells start singing,

Ring out, wild bells and let her die,

 

Ring in the new, ring out the old,

Ring out wild bells, and let her lie.

 

The villagers start waking up,

It’s half past midnight, on an icy day,

The wild bells keep ringing,

Screaming out laments of time,

 

Ring in the new, ring out the old,

Ring out, wild bells, with your piercing cry,

 

The village finally wakes,

Its occupants slowly getting up,

The wild bells still ringing,

Tinkling out their last goodbye,

 

Ring in the new, ring out the old,

Ring out, wild bells, to the clouded sky,

 

The town, now fully wakened,

Proceeds with the bier,

The wild bells, still clamoring

Sing their songs to up high,

 

Ring in the new, ring out the old,

Ring out, wild bells, and let the dead lie,

 

Now the mistress is under the earth,

And villagers are slumbering,

The wild bells will never cease,

To ring their tinkling cry,

 

Ring in the new, ring out the old,

Ring out wild bells, and let her die…

 

Burial

by: Sophie P.

 

I never thought I’d see this day,

And yet, here we are again

 

When we were young, we used to pass the old cemetery,

And weep for the dead, for they were not alive.

Now, it feels as though we had died,

And we were brought back for a day to see our home

 

The cold, ruthless heart of winter,

Has striped these trees of their garments,

Creating harsh, spiky shapes, roughly outlined,

She spreads a blanket of the thickest fog,

And the world turns black and white, like an old movie,

 

Once we had run upon these rocks, covered in grass,

Once this cold, and stinging wind, had been a mild breeze,

But all changes inevitably,

And those smells of home had disappeared,

Replaced by the endless smell of snow…

 

Once upon a time, the creaking of the trees was gone,

This silence, of a cemetery, filled with noise and clamor,

But this place is a grave for the spring and summer months,

And the ice cold heart of winter never thawed.

 

One million nights we have been waiting for this day,

Waiting for winter’s icy heart to melt,

But home is not home,

When the people are all gone.

And for now 

we shall rest,

In this eternal fog.

 

When will spring again raise her lovely head?

When will she send her music running through the land?

When will the birds again sing their songs,

And the plants lift their sad, gray fronds?

And so we sigh, and sadly say,

That when the soul of home is away,

Then winter is forever long…

untitled

by: Sophia W.

 

a person born in a burning house thinks the world is on fire.

and though i wasn’t born burning,

the sparks grew with me.

 

i never could be a picture-perfect baby. 

i gave my mother hell

from the moment i was conceived.

i was consistent, 

kicking and pushing and shoving.

once i was born,

something lit on fire.

a kindle in the corner of my room.

a little monster nestled itself in the corner,

and in the corner i lay as well.

 

as a child i was brilliant and tireless,

the fire as restless as my self.

the corner was engulfed in flames and 

it spread, spread in the room i shared 

with my brother, 

which left my special brother burning in my shadow.

my home rekindled after my father made 

his mistake, and never contained,

the fire continued to rage.

 

i’ve grown and matured because 

the fire that sparked in my house had spread to my backyard,

the world outside seeming more and more wrong.

 

in the past year the fire has grown 

and grown.

i’ve left my mother scared

thanks to crisis after crisis.

she sees the world as a burning prison,

fearful to let my brother and me see what’s wrong,

but we are not blind.

 

no, i wasn’t born in a burning house,

but the fire is kindling

 

untitled

by: Sophia W.

 

friendship is the bond between two beings.

the shared knowledge of comfort.

friendship is what brings people together.

 

if you were to ask me about friendship,

i would tell you about my group.

my circle that has developed 

now more than ever

the people who i would rather be with

over anyone else.

 

we found each other through hardship,

through financial pain and struggle.

we’ve persevered, 

been able to tell each other things

that no one else would understand.

we’ve seen each other at the best of times 

and the worst,

we’ve been at risk 

and teetered on the edges of cliffs,

with only each other to hold on to.

 

we were brought together because we were gifted,

we were students of color,

students like nobody else.

 

a program,

our savior and our enemy,

destined to bring us up and break us down,

destined to find us a place in the world,

but only after too much struggle.

this program led us to each other.

we face sleepless nights,

we tried and tried and tried,

and no matter where we ended up,

somehow,

we still ended up

together.

this experience has made us friends,

has given us that special bond,

like none else.

untitled

by: Sophia W.

i never understood the fuss about 

DISORDERS.

my brother, 

with a touch of the ‘tism,

is just like my attention deficit family

but is coddled and viewed differently

because of this

DISorder.

 

our disorders,

are supposed to just be a different way our minds work.

but they end up being 

a defining factor.

always in school,

always at work.

it counts 

for the inclusivity and diversity.

you know, there, 

there is so much fuss about these

                DISORDERS.

 

truly, i never understood that fuss 

because isn’t it just

a different ORDER?

because, these people,

they’re just like you and me.

because, isn’t it just 

a different way of life?

 

there’s so much fuss about

   DISORDERS.           

that i won’t ever understand.

there’s so much fuss that i just

listen and try,

though there is never anything 

truly wrong about a

DISorder.

 

untitled 

by: Sophia W.

 

i’ve been told i should be a lawyer

from the second i could speak

 

i’ve always been the one to speak

to argue

to bite.

not my brother,

not my mother

 

Amagansett

by: AlexaM.

The crashing of the waves,

the swaying of the grass

as 

the birds sing and the waves boom 

and crash on this red flag day. 

The water takes over the beach.

We feel and smell the salt 

everywhere, even the beach

because 

in Amagansett, we like it this way.

Corpse

by: Xi H. 

 

The ground is littered with crumpled moths

and black wildberries.

Skeletal leaves clatter in silence 

like spittle rattling 

in a dead man’s throat,

twigs exploding through hollow sockets

Their voices long gone to dust and still the

dry whisper wherein

 

*

 

a mark in the mud and a fox strayed

into a hunter’s net, unsuspecting

and was killed.

 

Why?

Why? Oh, sweetheart

It died—that is all.

There is no reason.

For to reason with truth

is madness.

Someone tried to kill it.

Nature tried to kill it.

Fate tried to kill it.

Anyone, no one, someone, anyone.

It died. 

 

*

 

We are always weaving traps

spreading them, planning them

like the fox does the coney

until the hunter becomes the hunted.

Be warned.

Sunshine will play little tricks with you.

Fortune will lure you and ensnare you

and lead you to the pit.

But happiness never lasts long—

always an ill-wind to blow it off.

 

*

 

and death 

—but that is all.

 

Dry whispers 

that is all.

calling, calling, calling

pushing, pulling

I am dying,

and none will know.

 

*

 

Little fox,

when you are trapped inside the mesh and the net

and the hunter jeers at you with a mocking smile,

leering and looming,

and you feel the sting,

pain strikes;

you will know

but it is too late.

 

Wave

by: Xi H.

 

wave 

to

sky 

harken!

cliffs            crest            cleft 

          splits           struck

rock

^^^^^^^^^^^————————

wave    swells, 

    

    smooth [tread] as [on] [glass eyes]

 

crash! slash! rip, tear, screeeak

break         smooth

whirling       crystal 

       pommel the sun

 

burst     of—terror!

       explode the sun

 

hammer and chisel 

  fragile

pottery wheel

titter      fetter     tattered

 

wave swells,

    recedes

        sloshes    swirls    stills

blue – to green – to gold

dry ember

harsh    slate    abate

 

and all is done

 

THE VOICE

by: Jack F.

It’s in my head

ring.

It tells me not to swing.

 

This feeling is,

like the ABYSS. 

 

It controls me,

like I’m a bee

in a honeycomb

taking orders from my queen.

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on Arrow Online 2025 Post #7

Arrow Online 2025 Post #6

Hello! This post will highlight some of our terrific 8th graders’ creativity.

Jojo H.

Emma M.

untitled

by: Cadence D.

Day 4: 4:30 in the morning;

After yesterday’s debacle Nico had to wake up at 4:30 am again, to prepare for any mishaps we might encounter today. Today’s agenda is to make it to Dennistown, Maine. We can only make 3 fifteen minute stops. It will take us 17 hours to get to Dennistown, and then from there we will have to go on foot to the border opening, hopefully getting to Canada by late tonight. 

Half way through is when all of my body hurts. Everything is in pain and I don’t know how much longer I can go. Nico let us take a 30 minute break instead of a fifteen minute break. No one spoke anymore. 

We were an hour away from Dennistown when it happened. It came out of nowhere. There was something in the fire-covered woods that started coming toward us. It pounced towards us going for Lily. Nico shot out with a stick. He hit whatever this thing was, but this beast got to him first. Nico was lying there, lifelessly, on the ground, with blood covering every inch of his body. Lily is kneeling over his body sobbing. Colin went to hug her while Callum came over and hugged me. 

After a few minutes we are standing here, unknowing what to do next. 

Suddenly Colin says “We have to keep moving. We have spent too long in this one spot and Nico would want us to keep going.” Callum and I nod, but Lily, she still sits there motionlessly. Colin attempts to pick her up but she pushes him away. “Lily, we must keep going.” He whispers to her, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible.

“No! We can’t leave him.” She started to cry again. Despite what Lily said, Colin picks her up and begins to carry her when she yells “Fine, I’ll keep going, just put me down!” We get back on our bikes and begin to peddle, in full, complete, silence. 

We made it to Dennistown by 10 o’clock at night. We needed to make it to the exit tonight. We ditch the bikes and begin to walk. I feel like my feet are going to fall off when I see the exit up ahead of us. 

“Guys, look, we did it.” I say. I can no longer hold in my excitement. I ran towards it. When we all reach it it’s so thin it looks like it is about to close. Lily goes in first, then me, then Colin, and then Callum coming through last. We all hug crying from joy and pain. When suddenly Callum pulls away.

“Guys I know who created this ring of fire.” He says horror and fear in his face. “I’ve known all this whole time. Before the people who caused it left they invited me to go with them.” He looks at me and says “But I couldn’t leave you here all alone.” Colin looks like he’s about to punch Callum for not telling us sooner. 

“Who?” Colin asks, his hands curling into fits.

“My parents.” He pauses. “And your parents.” I gasp. Lily’s face turns to stone. Callum comes over to me but I push him away, processing what I just heard. He’s still talking, explaining  why but I’m lost in my own thoughts. Maybe four days ago this would have hurt me more, but now, after everything we have been through, it only feels like a stinging pain in my chest, and all I want to do now is get even. I begin to walk towards the town infront of us, refusing to look back, when I hear my name.

“Annalise!” Colin shouts. “Annalise!” He shouts again. That’s when Callum comes running up behind me and makes me face him.

“Whatever you are thinking of doing, I am going to help, no matter what.” Callum says to me. 

“I need a plane.” I said to him, “We’re going to London.”

Raine L.

Jojo H.

Farewell to Farms

by: Carter H.

I was 6 months old the first time I realized that my friends were disappearing. I later learned that they were being taken to the “hissy-hissy hot oil machine,” or that was what my late mother called it. Now, with over 5 years of experience, I know it as the fryer, the endless wildfire so many friends have perished. But in my youthful shallowness, I was not content to sit by and watch. I plotted to expose the evil system: no longer would we be oppressed, our friends seized and brought to a dishonorable death with thousands treated as no better than mere unintelligent, savage creatures. However, my groundbreaking article “Chicken Frying: Exposed!” was taken off the presses and archived by KFC, never to be seen again. 

Indeed, the fast-food company Kentucky Fried Chicken has evolved into a global enterprise, a corporate monster, frying chicken after chicken, farming and killing them in the back rooms of massive restaurants. I am the lucky one: I live in a small chicken community on the edges of Kentucky, away from the center of their control. But my name, “Clyde Cluckston,” flashes on the gleaming silver box in the corner, serving as a constant reminder that I cannot escape: every day it announces the propaganda and false truths of KFC. Always at 9:00 a.m., spreading the message for every citizen of Corbin, Kentucky, may they be chicken or human, to hear. 

The time was quickly approaching again. I turned to the box, staring innocently at me. With a dry and bitter taste lingering in my mouth, I flicked the dial with my wing, and the sound blared to life. The deceptively friendly tone greeted my ears: “Hello, citizens of Corbin. We regret to inform you that an outbreak of avian flu has hit our chicken population, and we are experiencing a slight shortage. But don’t worry! At KFC, we are incredibly dedicated to making sure our customers continue to enjoy the flavors of our special fried chicken: in fact, we’ll be expanding our production of chickens to meet your demand. Thank you for your unwavering support as we work through this minor setback.” 

The audio paused, and a click signified the end of the broadcast.

“More lies,” I thought distastefully. But then I came to a sudden realization – if they didn’t have enough chickens, how would they expand their production? The truth hit me like a cleaver to the neck. They were coming for me. For my fellow chickens in similar situations, forever trapped in KFC’s all-consuming grasp. I would be seized and taken to the fryer to meet my end. 

Before today, I had never thought much about it, but I was nearing the conclusion of my life and had accomplished nothing. Gazing around the room, I saw years spent fighting KFC, trying to give a glimmer of hope to those who would live under their hegemonic dominance for centuries to come. But the discarded articles crumpled in the trash and littered around the room only testified to my bitter failure. 

My ideas had died: once fiery and bright, they had been extinguished by the tyrannical rule of KFC. They had silenced me, crushed my ideas, and stolen my friends. 

But they had forgotten to take one thing: my spirit.

And sitting in the only chair I owned, a cheap, flimsy KFC promotional chair with “It’s Finger Lickin’ Good!” printed mockingly on the back, the fire in my belly suddenly returned. I wasn’t done yet. 

I hurried to the window and yanked it open. Across the street, KFC’s massive logo, sitting atop their restaurant, glared back at me. Their watchful guards, patrolling as always around the restaurant, blocked my entrance. But luckily, several years ago, with nothing but determination (and strong wings fueled by the hope of revolution), I dug a tunnel underground from my home leading right into the restaurant. Cursing the world for the back problems that come with old age, I struggled through the tunnel at a remarkably slow pace and groaning, pulled myself up into a dark storage room.

Standing up to my full height, a respectable 4 feet, I realized how truly massive the KFC was: its walls were as tall as skyscrapers, towering above everything around it, suffocating and trapping those below. My eyes, roving around the room, fell on a sack of chicken in the corner. I knelt in fury, swearing to avenge my fallen comrades, who had suffered quietly and in vain. 

I, alone, could not fight physically against the power of KFC. But I had other talents. Years as a writer had trained me to send a message, to sway people’s opinions. Ironically, KFC, themselves masters of propaganda, had neglected to consider the fact that this power could be easily used to destroy them.

A small button awaited me inside the media room. I knew the layout well from years of planning and failed attempts to overthrow KFC. The button, wherein lay the cornerstone of KFC”s operation, was only as large as a quarter. But behind its facade, it had unimaginably dangerous power. Behind the tiny switch lay an empire, controlling the population with carefully spun lies, censored information, and twisted facts beyond recognition. The button could rewrite minds, programming them to think and act a certain way. And if I could take control of the button…I could undo the damage KFC had caused. 

To my surprise, the door to the media room swung open with my first push. Their wide screens, stretching around the room, kept a watchful eye on the streets of Corbin. It was still early morning, and the streets were relatively quiet. 

But as I was about to take a step in, I chastised myself. I had not come so far to fail here, at the final hurdle. Naturally, it was a trap. KFC had not risen to power by underestimating their opponents. I stood back, considering the situation. 

The security camera blinked in the corner, sending a red beam around the room. It would see me the second I set foot inside the room. I glanced at the button, tantalizingly close. 

“Think, Clyde. Think.” I needed more time. 

But shouts and slamming doors alerted me that my presence had been discovered, and forced my hand. I stepped inside and ran for the button, my old bones creaking in protest. 

A warning gunshot blasted past my ear, and I froze. Turning, I saw two guards approaching me. Their guns closed off my path to escape.

“Well, well,” one of them sneered. “This is certainly a surprise.” They laughed, clapping each other on the shoulder.

My heart raced and I scrabbled desperately in the back pockets of my vest, searching for anything that could save me. My hand closed around a small metal device, an ingenious invention that I had created on a whim one day, which would produce loud chicken squawks, distracting people in the need of a quick escape. Thus, I had fittingly named it the Poultrygeist. 

The guards had stopped laughing. “Alright, chicken, you’re coming with-”

I whipped out the Poultrygeist and pressed its button, hoping beyond hope that it still worked. 

The shrieks of chickens exploded throughout the room. Their cries bounced off the metal walls and echoed hauntingly from every direction. The guards, shocked, dropped their weapons. Disoriented, they ran out of the room clutching their ears. But I knew they wouldn’t be distracted for long. The clucks of the Poultrygeist would only sound for a minute, and then they would return. I had to act quickly. I lunged for the button and slammed it down with my wing.

The broadcast beeped and flickered to life. The button turned green – it was on. I took a deep breath.

“Citizens of Corbin!” I yelled, my voice ringing through the streets. “The time has come to break free! You have lived under a mask of deception, swallowing the lies KFC has fed you for years. But have you ever questioned them?”

“They say that chickens are mindless. That we are commodities, no better than objects that can be owned, purchased and sold. They have trained you not to see us as living beings. KFC have buried the truth under their fabrications: their false broadcasts, endless propaganda, reassurances that ‘everything is fine.’”

“They claim they need more chickens. But do they mention at whose expense?  Their promise to keep your plates full comes at a much greater cost.”

I stood up straight, my burden having been freed, years of oppression forced into the open.

“Do not allow them to continue controlling you. Controlling the airwaves. Controlling the narrative. Take back your autonomy. Take back your lives!”

A gunshot broke the silence. A burning pain ripped through my back. My legs buckled and I collapsed to the floor. The guards had returned. But I barely felt the cold grasp of death – only the warm glow of victory.

On the screens, I watched as the silence cracked and voices swelled, crumbling the walls of KFC’s empire. Chickens rushed into the streets, tearing down KFC posters and rejoicing in triumph. I closed my eyes. I had done it.

The Egglysian Fields, where heroic chickens are sent after their passing, is my new resting place. Here, I can finally sink my old bones into the cushioned armchair I could only dream of on Earth.

From above, I have watched as KFC’s empire crumbled. Their massive restaurants have been torn down, their executives put on trial, and consumers now disgusted by their brand. 

And as the sun rises every morning in Corbin, Kentucky, a new sound can be heard. 

Not the hiss of fryers.

Not the hum of carefully crafted propaganda. 

But the triumphant cries of chickens whose voices have finally been freed.

Emma M.

Raine L.

Grass of Green Beyond 

by: Aila R.

Elias was away at The Expurgent Emporium when Delphina was taken away. 

             Specifically, the Delphina that was his sister. In the confederacy, there were about 3,054 out of the 7,876 inhabitants named Delphina, the other portion of the population being male, and made up of Elias’. It was a strange way of living, but the crowd of Delphinas and Elias’ got by somehow.  

What was even stranger was that no one ever questioned anything. But, then again, Why should they? All the answers were told to them, in the form of the evening programs. In fact, it was around this time, when the clock hits ⅞ o’clock that Delphina was taken away. About that time, when the man with the burgundy suit would ramble on about the security of the border, as images of the Supreme ONE visiting sunlit fields pan across the screen.  Elias opened the door to the house, careful not to touch the big red sign at the front that read “House monitored by the watchful eye.” Elias hurled his leather confederacy bag, filled with an assortment of pamphlets and papers at the cracking wall of his house, and a handful of papers spilled out onto the floor. The nearest headline proclaiming, “The Art of Unknowing, and the Joy it Brings” in bold letters.  

“I’m home,” he declared loudly to an empty house. The room was filled with an unnerving stillness, the distant chattering of the evening program coming from behind a door.  Elias tentatively reached for the cold, metal doorknob of the room next door, beads of sweat forming at the top of his hairline. Elias swiped the sweat away from his plain brown hair. If he opened the door right now, he would see his sister, in her usual position next to the tv box. What could possibly be beyond the room that made him so scared? Elias dispelled the questions out of his head, as any sort of questions unanswered by the confederacy was unbecoming. Perhaps he was having recollections of the past, when his parents were taken by the watchful eye, and the big red sign on their door was placed, marking their home forever. But it was impossible that it could happen again. Mustering an air of pleasant stupidity, as was recommended by the confederacy, he calmly opened the door. The scene that lay before him was nothing out of the ordinary. However, In the place of his sister next to the tv box, lay a small sheet of white paper, marked with the symbol of the watchful eye, an obnoxious red eye that took up half the page. In place of the pupils were the regime’s catchphrases: “To know nothing is peace” “peace is solidarity.” and “solidarity in the supreme ONE.” Under the eye, in print just big enough to read, “Delphina of household 1074 has been taken for being found in possession of an anti-confederacy relict.” 

Everyone knew what happened to people who were taken. Elias’ heart sank, sinking lower than the encampment that his sister must be in now; taken by that dreadful eye. He began to pace the room. He knew something had been off the moment he set foot into his house. He looked under the cushions neatly placed in front of the TV; no sign of a fight, or even any resistance. Everything was pristine and eerily calm.  He looked on top of the cupboard veiled with dust, as if his sister could be found in any of these places. Vanished, just like his parents, gone just to fade into a distant memory; forgotten. Why should he forget? In a sudden fit of anger, he tore at his thin walls, attempting to find a sign of the watchful eye. But there never was. Some speculated that the forces of the watchful eye lived in the walls, waiting at any moment for a violation of policies. Tattered shreds of colorless plasterboard now lay across the room, as a chill crept into the room. He looked around, suddenly embarrassed and acutely aware that the eye could be watching him at this very moment. 

A small book of papers slipped out from in between the now open walls of his house, hitting Elias squarely on the head. The book landed with a thud against the floorboards, causing dust to rise up. The pages of the book flipped open, revealing the contents of the journal. Delphina must have hidden this before she was taken. Stunned, he stood in the room for some time, before he gained his composure. What lay on the floor was unheard of. A small notebook with scores and scores of musical compositions and notes. Elias’ stomach grew sick. If someone found out he still had this, he would be taken away forever as well. However, despite this fact, Elias still held onto it, as if unable to move. He didn’t want to forget. To forget the joy of his sister, of her smile, when he had gifted her those music sheets. Yes! He had gifted it to her, never thinking that they would be found, and that there would be such drastic consequences. 

Something he had found in a discarded stack of newspapers in the expurgent emporium, where he worked, pumping out newspapers for the people. She had always loved exotic, foreign things, however many people looked down upon it. How foolish he had been. To think the watchful eye wouldn’t notice. And now she was gone forever. With growing resolve, he decided he must escape. Escape this life like his sister had always wanted. Anywhere but here, where people were persecuted for individuality, for happiness! Elias placed the book into a pocket of his threadbare jacket, where it would be safe. Her words from the day before echoed within his head. “If I ever disappear, promise you won’t forget.” The words continued to echo within his head, forming a chant in his mind.  “…promise you won’t forget…”

Elias sat awake in his bed, thinking. He had never thought about escaping, and why would he? They had everything they could ever want, with only a small price to pay; their freedom, He reflected bitterly. These new creeping thoughts and questions were beginning to scare him; he had never thought so much before in all his life in the confederacy. Was there even a life beyond the confederacy? On the evening broadcasts, there was always talk about the borders, and fighting the forces beyond, yet they always forgot to mention what was beyond it. What could possibly lay beyond the borders of the confederacy? No one has ever even tried to venture to the beyond that he knew of. Everyone except.. 

Elias jolted awake, in a cold sweat. It was morning, and he was greeted with silence once again. The events of the evening before flooded back to him, causing him to be flooded with a sudden wave of grief. Delphina was gone. And it was his fault. But now was not the time to be caught up in grief. He sucked in a deep breath, and just like any other day, he got up, put on his brown suit, grabbed his leather confederacy bag, and walked out the door, the notebook from yesterday still sitting snugly in his pocket. What greeted him when he got out of the door was another sign, painted using jarring red paint. Underneath the original, it read “House under scrutiny of the watchful eye, further offense will not be tolerated.” He sighed. He would have to be moved to a different neighborhood again, as the confederacy was organized through the number of offences a house has. 

But it wouldn’t matter. He would be gone by the time he would be moved. By this time, Some people on his street had stopped to stare at the additional sign in front of his house. He began to walk to work. Elias walked down rows of identical houses, which looked much like his, all with identical white plaster walls, and two windows on either side of the door. Many of them had red signs on their door. As he continued his walk, he began to see less red signs on the houses. He walked by these unmarked houses for some time before he was able to see the expurgent emporium. It was a magnificent sight, with towers that rose above everything else. The glass towers ended in spires that had begun to shine in the morning light, making everything shabby in comparison. The rest of the building was made entirely out of glass as well, ingrained with the mantra “To know nothing is peace” “peace is solidarity.” and “solidarity in the supreme ONE.” People poured in and out of the main entrance as Elias fought the crowds. He entered the clear building as the cameras repositioned to look at him as he passed. He felt a twinge of fear, as the cameras scanned him from head to toe. Instinctively, he put his hands in his pocket to feel for the booklet, and he walked past the cameras, unscathed. He walked up the many flights of stairs to his office. Elias, his close friend, greeted him as soon as he walked in. “ You look tired,” he commented. 

Elias gave him a grim smile, “My sister got taken yesterday.” A look of shock spread across his face, but he quickly hid it, with an air of pleasant stupidity. 

“Well, nothing you can do about it, hope you feel better,” and abruptly got back to work, printing out long sheets of newspaper, as if nothing had happened. Of course, this was normal, as the taken were never talked about, or even mentioned in passing conversation. Elias could see the unexpressed pity in his eyes, as well as a twinge of fear. His friend understood his pain after all, as his family was taken away last month, due to an attempted escape. He was the only one who would help him escape. The only difficulty would be to get the information out of his skittish friend, as he rarely spoke anymore after what occurred to his family, and frequently sat around, thinking. Elias approached him around the usual break they had, where the broadcasting would screen the Supreme ONE, in honor of his eternal vigilance to the confederacy. Elias turned to his good friend who continued to stare blankly ahead at the broadcasting screen; the supreme ONE giving his usual words of wisdom. Elias slid over to where he was seated. “We should talk.” His friend continued to stare ahead but gave him a small nod that was barely noticeable. 

“Let’s meet at a quarter to 12/8 O’clock, peace pavilion.” The broadcasting continued, but Elias paid no attention to it. The words of his dear sister chanted within his head, like a new mantra replacing the old of the confederacy “…promise you won’t forget…”

By the time 11/8 O’clock rolled around Elias was prepared for his meeting with his friend. The Peace Pavilion was one of the many small parks commemorating the Supreme ONE and his feats protecting the confederacy. Elias still had the small booklet of music sheets in his pocket, and he tightened his grip around it, when he heard a rustling sound coming from behind a statue of the supreme one, standing in the corner of the park, the evening light casting a glow over the face of the statue. The effect was meant to be saintly, yet it appeared more sinister, the light only accentuating the shadows of his bronzed face.  his good friend stepped out from behind the statue, casting a conspiratorial glance behind him before he hurried over to Elias. “We can’t be found here,” he said in a small voice. Elias heeded his friend’s word and followed him to a corner of the pavilion hidden by a hedge where they ducked down. Elias cut straight to the point “I need to leave.” His friend, as if expecting this response, exhaled. “ I was expecting that, knowing you.” “I want to know something that will help me, can you do that?” His friend was stunned by this question, as the both of them had never heard a question expressed aloud before. “Well, I guess I could.” he laughed humorlessly. “How were you planning to escape that night?” Elias asked. Elias’s friend began to speak, and his eyes filled with a haunted look, as he told his story.

“ Myself, my twin brothers, and my father and mother, had always suffered under the marking system of the confederacy, always last to get our meat rations, and all because of the generational marking policy. My parents had dreams of escape, but never dared. However, when my brother received a minor marking from the watchful eye, they decided to actualize their dreams, a horrible idea on their part. My twin brothers and I went along with their plans, risking our lives, for the chance of escaping. Our plan could barely be called one, as all we did was walk until we reached the border in the dead of night. It was a great big, crumbling stone wall, with several small holes; a person could easily slip through. It made you wonder why no one had ever thought to escape before. As we hastened toward an opening, we saw the enforcers of the watchful eye, wearing their bright red uniform. They appeared like out of a nightmare, taking me and my family away to a horrible room. They didn’t question us, they talked to us in a friendly manner, but it was worse than anything you can imagine. They told us things. They told us of the horrible wilderness outside the border, as well as the all-encompassing freedom, far too much for us; it would consume us, making us into evil savages.” They took my family, and left me, as a warning to never cross the border.” Elias’ friend finally looked up, staring up at him directly with watery blue eyes. “The choice is up to you. The risk that freedom gives you, or the risk of staying trapped here forever.” “I won’t tell a soul about what happened here, or about what you want to do.” “I won’t forget.” 

Elias continued to turn over his friend’s words in his mind, as he took big, long strides, toward the end of the world he knew; toward the border of the confederacy. The ever-attentive cameras followed him as he walked steadily toward his destination. The constant silence of the confederacy weighed on him, like a silent apparition, trailing after him. He passed symmetrical houses with symmetrical windows and bright street lamps lighting his path. He held the notebook firmly in his clenched hand, the only possession he had brought with him. Now standing in front of him was a cracked stone wall. soldiers wearing blood-red uniforms lay sparsely spaced along the gargantuan wall. In the moonlight, the wall glowed pearly white. It was about 16/8 O’clock, time to put the plan into action. Elias’ friend appeared, several yards away. They exchanged meaningful glances, before his friend stole away, towards the nearest guard. He threw a rock, diverting their attention. The guard let out a cry of pain, pointing towards his friend’s figure in the distance. The guards ran towards him, leaving their posts, and leaving an opening for Elias to slip through. He jogged towards a wide crack in the wall and slipped through. The wind wooshed across an open plain, as thin tendrils of grass swayed to and fro. Elias felt for the notebook in his pocket; relieved to find it still there. The distant sound of a melody drifted in the wind, carrying with it the scent of rain. “Promise you won’t forget.” 

Aila R.

Dustin R.

The Lightning Crown

by: Annabelle R.

Geneva, a once-beautiful city with birds filling the air, was now replaced with wretched shrieks of terror, the beautiful blue ocean now red with the blood of many. For so long, I wondered how we got here, how people allowed the horror to persist for this long. But now I understand…and know why I am the one who has to do this. 

I stand with a rifle on the edge of the castle gates, the guards too preoccupied with the rebels to notice me. I swiftly weave through the chaos with a single purpose: to assassinate the king. I pause at the open door contemplating whether this is what is right. I look to the once-blue sky to see a now-dark void. I let the rain fall on my face without a care in the world. I know what I must do. In the sky, a storm is brewing, and in a moment, lightning will strike, and bring a new light to the world. 

I walk into the castle; the air is cold and thin. The castle seems…abandoned? I have been here many times and never has it been quiet. It’s always loud and lively. I reach Charles’s Office. The door creaks as I open it. He stands with his crown on his head…looking out the window woefully. 

“I knew you would come. It was only a matter of time,” Charles murmurs. He turns to me, “I knew it would be you. With your ambition, your beliefs, your drive…you have come to murder me. Go ahead…I give you permission…my daughter.” 

I freeze. My heart stops. My ears ring. 

When I regain consciousness, my father King Charles lays deceased on the floor. I step forward, pick up the crown, and place it on my head.

As my eyes flash red, the lightning strikes

Raine L.

Stairway to Heaven

by: Jojo H.

What do you desire? Money? Fame? The tower has everything you seek. Your aspirations, hopes, and dreams can only be achieved once you reach the top. Are you up for the challenge?

19 years, 3 months, 27 days I have endured endless suffering alone. But when the letter came, I knew I needed to risk everything for a chance. A chance to be free from this life. So here I am, climbing for something—everything.

step 

             after 

                           step

There are no windows or doors, no sense of time or sanity in this tower, just steps climbing up. I pass a sign labeled“1,263” and continue ascending. It does that, the signs; I don’t notice them anymore.

thud thud thud

My blood ran cold. Who’s there? I thought there was no one else insane enough to risk their life like me. “No way,” I thought as I hastened my pace. No one deserves this chance like I do. I begin to run, faster, bounding up the stairs. My heart races as my steps and theirs echo throughout the tower.

But finally, my prayers were answered; a light parted the desolate path I’ve followed for hours. “The end,” I thought; this light was the answer to my suffering; I counted the stairs with each step faster than the previous.

18…10…8

“That must be it!” I thought. I kept going, running over and over again. But once I got to the final step, I froze. My prayers, hopes—my life—all shattered. On that lonely step with the sign labeled “0” was just a broken dream. A window and another letter reading:

What do you desire? Money? Fame? The tower has everything you seek. Your aspirations, hopes, and dreams can only be achieved once you reach the top. Are you up for the challenge?

Aila R.

Raine L.

Learning To Swim

by: Norah M.

Every morning, Mommy and I ride the M-17 bus. Every morning, as I gaze at shimmering Mobile Bay, I make believe that our bus is the ocean, and we are all swimmers. Every day, there are scary parts of our swim through the glistening waters. Those are the parts that scoff at us as we go past. Give us dirty looks. Whisper under their breath. Those are the parts that try to push Mommy and me under the water.

“Mommy, can we sit in the front of the bus today?”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“Why not?” A man wearing a grey sport coat paired with matching slacks looks us up, down, then right in the eye. His cold, shark eyes pierce through my goggles, sending a stream of hot, salty water down my cheek. He mumbles under his breath, replaces his pipe between his ferocious teeth, and continues reading his newspaper. My mother keeps her chin up high as her pride and continues swimming through the center aisle as if nothing happened. She never lets anything pull her under, and floats her only daughter by her side. 

“Next stop, Hamilton Avenue.” The M-17 slows to a stop, and Mommy and I begin to swim down the center aisle, through the rows of seats we cannot sit in filled with people who force us below the surface. A woman’s blowhole ejects water as she scoffs at one of my curly buns brushing against her. Another reaches out her tentacle, preparing to sting. Pull my own tightly to my sides. Mommy squeezes my hand. 

“Never let anyone close your clamshell. Let them see the pearl inside.” I exhale. I practice holding my head up high, keeping it above the surface, and follow in Mommy’s footsteps as they make their way off the M-17.

Dustin R.

by: Raine L.

Mom hands me a sheet of paper. “Equations,” she explains, a smile on her face. “I know it’s the holiday season, but you can still do some work.”

I groan. My sister groans beside me. 

“Hey, don’t be so quick to sigh!” Mom chides us. “First see what’s on the paper!”

I look over the sheet of paper, and Mom’s positivity spreads. “Cloud plus ice equals…”

“Go ahead!” Mom encourages me. 

“Snow, Mom,” I tell her. “Snow.”

Mom smiles and points out the window. “Guess what?”

My sister dashes to the frosted glass. She gasps. “Snow!”

Little flakes dance to the ground from gargantuan white clouds. The landscape outside is quickly dusted in a light layer of shining snow.

I look up at Mom. She reads my mind. “Yeah, sure. Make sure to grab coats first!”

I rush to the door, yelling to my sister to grab a coat for each of us. She yells back and tells me to get my own coat. I ignore her. It can’t be too cold out.

“It really is cold out!” Mom calls.

“Fine,” I grumble, going back for a coat. My sister laughs at me, all bundled up by the door. She kicks the door open and charges out. 

“Have fun, kids!” Mom calls out after us. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot her gathering up her “equations”, a smile on her lips. 

My sister and I dance with the falling snow. Inside, Mom puts decorations up on the walls. I smile, the first snowflakes of the year sprinkling my hair. 

“Winter’s here,” I whisper.

Emma M.

Jojo H.

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on Arrow Online 2025 Post #6

Arrow Online 2025 Post #5

This page highlights some 7th graders’ creations.

Sophie P.

A Mojave Tale

by: Alejandro R.

 

Main Character: Former Army General

John: Friend

Brad: Friend

 

July 3rd, 1978:

I was traveling with my friends John and Brad, through the Mojave, when I saw something peculiar. A shiny glint in a desert full of sand and rocks. I convinced John to pull over and check it out. 

We got out of the car and checked the glint out. It was the sun reflecting off a metal door. I tried opening the door and it surprisingly opened. 

“ Sorry, Kamrad,” says John with a Russian accent as he closes the door behind us.  

“Dang, everbody’s a bad Russian these days,” says Brad with a dry-jokingly tone. 

I look around and see a room with a faint light shone on a metal table with chairs. I go into the room with Brad and sit down. 

“How are we gonna get out?” I say.

“ No clue,” says Brad. 

We slowly drift to sleep. I wake up in a room with bright lights all around. Brad is nowhere in sight. John comes in the room and asks me, 

“ Do you know where we are?” 

“How am I supposed to know?” I say with an annoyed tone. 

“ Take a look out the window” says John. 

I get up and look out the window. I see the Earth. 

I am in amazement. “ Are you really a Russian?” I question.

Erica K.

Betrayed by Brother

by: Avery P.

“Where were you last night?” said Mom. 

“I was at home, I promise.” I said. 

My mom is always yelling at me, but she seems especially upset right now. 

“Me and your father have gone out of our way to teach you not to do bad things like-” 

“Mom I know. I was doing my homework like you told me to. Maybe my brother was lying.” 

He had ratted me out to my mom when I tried to go to a sleepover last night. 

“I want you to go to your room right now. You’re grounded,” she stated. 

“Mom, I didn’t even do anything!” I yelled back. 

“I’m going to check the camera on the door. If I see you leaving the house….” 

She stopped, presumably to think of a punishment. “You’re going to be grounded for two months without your phone, or computer.” She yelled. 

I felt scared and stressed. I was about to be grounded for two months. She was enraged, I can’t believe sleepovers are “unacceptable” to her. There’s nothing wrong with me hanging out with my friends. My friends have always told me my mom was strict, and I definitely agree with them. 

“Okay mom. I’ll go to my room.” As I walk upstairs and my mom goes to check the cameras, my brother quickly glances at me, then escapes to his room. 

“Hey!” I say, trying to get his attention.

 I swing the door open to his room and close it behind me. 

“Why would you rat me out? I thought we were supposed to have each other’s backs. I always cover for you.” I said. 

“Get out of my room!” he yelled back in response. 

“Why would you betray me like that!” I yell back. 

We sit in silence for a second before I decide on leaving and going back to my room. I sit on my bed. Deciding what to do. Screw it. I’ll leave. I can just leave and never come back. My mom doesn’t even care about me anyways. She likes my brother better. My mom calls my name and my heart starts beating. I look at the door, and then at the window. I look at the door again, and then back at the window. My mom is stomping upstairs, and I flee out the window and run into the road. 

And I don’t look back.

Erica K.

The Seasons

by: Katie S.

 

Winter and summer clash a claw 

See the blooming flowers only to be torn down by the icy wind that winter brings down upon them

See the delicate snowflakes so pristine and intricate get decimated by the cruel scorching sun that summer controls

Winter is a spirit cold and protective her long white hair is covered in her little creations that she works long hours to make

Summer is a soul filled with joy and mischief she bounces up and down her curly sunny hair bobbing with her looking as if rays of sunshine were woven into them

Both sides equally beautiful one so perfect you don’t even want breath at the thought you could mess it up and the other inviting and warm making you feel as if even if you run and play but nothing could shatter its beauty

Individually both have wondrous sights but together they make people wonder together they make people wish 

A flower on its own may be beautiful but when you add glittering snow to the ground where it lays it becomes magical

A tree with green leaves may be gorgeous but when they turn to an ombre of reds browns oranges and yellows it feels angelic

The harmony and magic that accompanies when the two seasons are in peace is incredible it makes things that have never been seen before like seasons with both of summer and winters components

Two more to add to the two already there 

A representation of the peace that once resided 

Fall…

Spring…

Winter…

Summer …

The seasons are magic 

Erica K.

Dear Diary

by: Savannah S.

Dear Diary,

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Hallie Hippo. Hallie Hippo was known to everyone to be a kind and loving girl and the fan favorite of the hippo family. Along with Hallie there was the most beautiful girl in town named Tess Tiger. While Tess Tiger was gorgeous she lacked the qualities that made the hippo loved by everyone in town. Because the two differed in so many ways they became fast friends when Tess moved in at only ten years old. In these five years Tess Tiger and Hallie Hippo became closer than two peas in a pod and bonded over school and boys. 

One day, when the friends are chatting at lunch they see a new boy moseying around. This boy was the most beautiful, handsome boy both of the girls have ever seen, Joseph Jaguar.

“You think he’s cute, cause I do,” says Hallie Hippo.

“Nahh, he is just alright.” says Tess.

“Dibbs then!” says Hallie excitedly.

Even though Tess had the biggest crush on him she lied to her best friend!!! 

As the school year goes on Hallie starts loving Joseph more and more and Tess starts 

getting closer to him more and more behind Hallie’s back. All Hallie wanted to do was get

Joseph’s attention and she finally got up the courage to ask him out on a date. When she is

slowly nervously walking to find Joseph she sees her friend in the corner of her eye through

the classroom door window. Hallie decides she needs to go in and ask her friend to come

with her on her exciting journey; so, she bursts open the door as quick as she can and

suddenly she sees Joseph and Tess kissing!

Hallie runs out of the room in tears from the betrayal of her best friend of five years. Tess

runs after her as fast as she can trying to apologize.

“Wait!” She yells.

“I’m sorry I can explain!” Tess says.

But she was too late, Hallie Hippo was gone forever and would be known to the town as the

teenage runaway… 

Char I.

Meet Me in the Trellis

by: Ruby G. & Sanaya T.

 

Mid August, 1989, in Vancouver. 

     Hermie, Hells, and Demetes were childhood best friends. Demetes was extremely charming 

and had every girl in town fawning over him including his two best friends Hells and Hermia. 

One day Hells and Hermia decided to meet up and hang out in their special treehouse in 

Vancouver.

Hermie: “Hells I have something important to tell you” 

Hells: “I have something important to tell you too.” 

Herms: “You can go first then.”

Hells: “I think I’m in love with Demetes.”

Hermie’s smile disappears.

Hells: “What about you?” 

Hermie “Uhh I have to go my brothers soccer game so… see you later?…” 

Hells: “Oh bye!”

 

A few days later

 

Hells finds Demetes reading Romeo and Juliet under a willow tree. Not many girls knew he had 

a soft spot like this. She approaches him nervously and sits down next to him. 

Hells: Whatcha reading?

Demetes: Romeo and Juliet.

Hells: My oh my I love that book!

Demetes: Really? It’s a classic!

Hells: Yea, one of my favorites.

*crickets*

 Hells: I also have something to talk to you about.

Demetes: Yea, you can tell me anything.

Hells: I’m in love with you.

*quick moment of silence*

Demetes: I’m m-madly in love with you too.

 

Night Time

 

As the clock strikes 12, Demetes walks Hells home. 

Hells: Thank you for walking me home.

Hells looks up at Demetes to see the stars sparkling in his eyes.

Demetes: Any time!

*kiss*

 

Hells goes inside and Demetes turns around to see Hermie with tear-filled eyes.

Demetes: Why are you crying, talk to me! 

Hermie: I have something to tell you. I have loved you ever since we fell into the haystack together in my father’s barn.

Demetes: You remember that day? I think about that every night.

Hermie: Of course I remember that, it’s never left my mind.

Demetes: Is this the part where we kiss?

Hermie: Yes, finally.

 

Little did they know, Hells peers outside her bedroom window and sees them kiss under the trellis where she just was a few minutes ago. Her heart breaks and she decides to run away. She packs her bags crying, leaving a note to Demetes and Hermie. Then she gets on the next flight to Verona, Italy to start a new life.

 

The next day Hermie and Demetes find the note that states 

“You guys deserve each other, but I have to go. I can’t bear to see the love of my life with my best friend”

 

Demetes suddenly gets filled with regret, and slaps Hermie in the face and follows Hells to Verona.

 

On the flight to Verona, Demetes’ plane’s engine fails and he dies in a plane crash.

 

Hells ends up finding someone new and better named Hammi and they live happily ever after, while Hermie marries someone rich and kills him for the money and becomes a widow.

Char I.

Bye bye

by: Amisha T., Izzie G. & Jolan M.

 

At Donut High School, there were three best friends named Mia, Scarlett, and Lily. 

 

Lily always felt very excluded. They would always hang out without her, talk behind her back and make her feel like a nobody.  

 

Until one day, a boy named Noah moved to town. He was funny, sweet, and considerate; he had all the qualities a typical middle school girl wanted. 

 

All the girls suddenly became obsessed with him. Lily never asked out a boy, more so, even try to talk to one. Lily was after all the prettiest one in their friend group, hence why Scarlett and Mia forbid her from talking to boys. 

 

Noah was put into all of Lily’s classes, making it harder for her to stay away from him. She found out he liked a lot of the same stuff. Lily, feeling guilty, started dating Noah … in secret. They were in middle school; of course, there was always gossip spreading in the hallways.  

 

Lily and Mia found out, and they were very jealous. They betrayed Lily and would not be friends with her anymore, all because of their jealous habits. 

 

Lily went crying to Noah on Valentine’s Day. She realized that her friends were toxic, controlling, and negative. Before she didn’t have anyone, if she stood up to them she would be all alone. Noah was now her best friend. Lily was suddenly a lot happier. Everyone at school loved her; she was nice, pretty and most importantly confident. 

 

The moral of this story is to  always surround yourself with people that will stick with you forever no matter what, and will always bring out the best in you! 

Sophie P.

Winter Snail

by: Jack F.

My favorite winter holiday symbol is the holiday decorations, the lights all over the house, inside and out, but in my family we add a little bit extra, inflatables, sea creatures in particular. We set up a winter holiday christmas snail, we also have an octopus. We name them after the simpsons Aliens Kang and Kodos

The blacks and whites of winter

by: Jack F.

Winter, darkness and light

Winter, indoor time, outdoor time

Winter family time, bonding

Winter, No more sports

Winter, Fun by the fire

Winter, Cooped up on the darkest days

Winter, Holidays on the lightest days

untitled

by: Jack F.

decorating christmas cookies

sneaking springles and dough

Sophie P.

GRATEFUL FOR FAMILY

by: Jack F.

Sisters

 Mom

 Dad

You are amazing

Thanks to my sisters I can have fun on rainy days

Thanks to my mom I have good food to eat

Thanks to my dad I have a nice bat to use at baseball

Sophie P.

THE WARRIOR: The Story of LeBron’s Final Push

by: Jake G. & Nate M.

Bronny James goes to check his phone and finds, “Breaking News! LeBron Raymone James has been traded to the Warriors in exchange for 2026, 2027 & 2029 unprotected Warriors first round picks as well as young stars Jonothan Kuminga and Trayce Jackson-Davis!” 

Bronny, who feels betrayed, gets ready to play a vengeful season. 

Ready to suit up for his first game against the Warriors and his father he finds LeBrons’ phone aside the court, it read that he was secretly paid 526 million to play for the Warriors from Adam Silver. Bronny, who was enraged, put up a career high 59 points, 7 rebounds and 18 assists stealing the win from the experienced, star-studded Warriors. 

Little did they know that this would be one of the Warriors’ last losses as they went 79-3 setting an extreme number of NBA records. 

Now comes playoff time where in the Western conference finals game 7 the Warriors match up against the vengeful 3-seeded Lakers. Bronny on his generational 35 point MVP season is ready for the finals as long as he cant manage the game without co-star Luka Doncic. 

“The scores are in, Lakers 98 – Warriors 123. Warriors in the Finals!” 

The Warriors enter the court with a harsh, toxic Boston game 7 atmosphere. Fans in green are yelling at Steph and LeBron, spitting and pointing. However, LeBron was used to haters, and knew that he would prove all of them wrong later in the game. 

During warmups, Steph is shooting like his life depends on it, swishing three to three. But, the Celtics fans had something else in mind for him. A plastic water bottle was thrown onto the court to throw off Steph, but he dodged it. 

As Steph chuckled and walked away, he was looking at the fans. Then, a ballboy got into the way, and…. Steph tripped! He let out a loud shriek and fell to the hardwood floor, intensely gripping his foot. LeBron rushed over, as Steph was escorted off of the court. He knew he had to do something about this selfish action. 

After warmups, it was time for the tip-off. LeBron waited on the wing, he eyed up Jaylen Brown, one of the Celtics’ best players. 

“Really cool thing for your fans to do!” he said in his deep, gravely voice. “Hey, it’s just a game,” Jaylen replied, with a cheeky, sly smirk on his face. 

LeBron shook his head, in disbelief that he had to play this game without his best teammate. However, he knew they would win this game, because he believed in karma. 

Warriors win the tip-off, as the ball is immediately passed to LeBron. He pulls up for three, and… SWISH! The crowd goes silent as the announcer screams “THREEEEEEEEEE POINTERRRRRRR, LEBRON!!” 

This pretty much summarized the game as the Warriors pulled off the 3-0 comeback without a LeBron dominated and ran away with a 40 point victory! LeBron lifts the finals MVP trophy with dominant averages of 42.2 points, 12 rebounds, 16 assists and 8.3 stocks. LeBron has officially cemented himself as the greatest of all time and has announced his retirement on the spot. Officially leaving the league for his MVP son Bronny James.

Henry K.

Mashed Potatoes

by Daniel M.

Mashed potatoes, creamy and light,
Whipped to perfection, soft and white.
Buttery swirls that melt on your tongue,
A comfort in every bite, old and young.

Savor the warmth, the velvet feel,
A side dish that’s simple yet surreal.
Piled high on plates with love and care,
A dish that says, “There’s joy to share.”

Golden flecks of garlic, herbs so mild,

Char I.

Kevin The MVP

by: Sebastian N.

Kevin plays basketball all the time. He’s one of the best on his team. He was so good that he was able to draft for the NBA, and at his first game, he went 7/7 for 3 pointers. But then something happened. When he was playing defense, his opponent did a mean crossover that fractured Kevin’s ankles. He got taken out of the game, where his team lost 27 to 40, because their best player wasn’t on the court playing. Kevin was out for most of the season, and his team went on a losing streak. Fans hated the team and no longer wanted to cheer them on, in fear of being humiliated from believing in a team going downhill. When the season ended, Kevin was disappointed in himself, he felt like he made them lose. Kevin wanted to make it up to them later.

When Kevin’s ankle healed, he started practicing each day at his local basketball court to get his skill back, and he was slowly making progress. It got to the point where he couldn’t miss a shot he took, and where he felt unstoppable. 

The next day, Kevin watched his team manager drafting players, he was super excited because the tournament was starting, and that if he was drafted, he would lead his team to victory. Draft after draft, the tension was getting stronger, and Kevin was getting worried he wouldn’t make the team. The last draft eventually came, and Kevin had his hopes up high, he was sure to be drafted. So it was a surprise when instead of him, another person was drafted onto the team. Kevin was devastated, so much in fact, that he almost quit basketball for good. But then the next day, he got an email from the Warriors, and they wanted him on their team.

So Kevin got up super happy, and quickly booked a flight to San Francisco, where he played his best in every game and even won the championship.

Char I.

THE WARDEN

by: Jack F.

    Hey I am Alex my friend Steve is very mean to me he always steals all the credit for

everything we do. When we killed the wither or the ender dragon he always said it was 

all him. He would take all the experience and when we went to the end city he took all 

the elytra and made me carry all of the beetroot seeds and bad stuff while he had all 

the good things. So today I am going to leave. I am running away. So I went to the 

village and said goodbye. Then I traveled as far as I could. When I got to a mountain I 

explored a cave but found a deep dark, I was exploring. Then a warden spawned and 

almost killed me but to my surprise he made me an offer. 

     He wanted me to kill Steve and because I was so mad at him I said yes, I returned 

and pretended to Steve that we were friends again keeping my secret safe. Then In the 

middle of the night while Steve was sleeping I snuck up on him, but to my surprise he 

wasn’t asleep, he cured me of my rage and together we went back to the deep dark  

and killed the warden as a team. When the warden died Steve and I worked together to 

loot the ancient city and took credit together so the villagers finally liked me. I was so 

happy because he actually let me carry the golden apples. I think he thought they were 

too heavy, but I was happy anyway. Then I talked to him about my problems with him 

and the elytra and the ender dragon credit. Then he actually let me light the beacon 

with the loot we got from the ancient city. I was so happy.

Char I.

The Story About the Red Snow 

by: Zachary J.

Once upon a time on December 29th 2002. There was a boy named Billy Bob Finch. Billy was 10 years old. He and his family lived on a farm in Mississippi. December 29th temperature was in the high sixties so there was not a very high chance of snow. But Billy noticed something. His school doesn’t have a winter break or a spring break. Only summer break and snow days. The sky last night was a bit more orange than usual due to some wildfires up north. At about 4:30 am he got an email saying school was canceled for a snow day. He looked outside and he saw lots of snow. The snow was bright red. He looked at the clouds. The clouds were bright pink. He woke up his 8 year old brother and six year old sister. Showing them the miraculous sight. At about 7:30 am he woke up his mom and dad. Mom and Dad called all their friends. Billy ran outside and played in the snow. But he didn’t know that the snow had a red virus. This red virus could kill you in about 10 minutes. His parents tried to stop him but it was too late. Billy already was making snow angels. The parents luckily stopped Billy’s siblings before it was too late. The dad screamed at him to come inside. But Billy didn’t hear him. Luckily 5 minutes later he came inside. They took his temperature and it reached a staggering 105. He seemed just okay. The mom and dad were both foot doctors so they didn’t know what to do. Two minutes later Billy was announced dead. The funeral was two days later. The red snow was gone and in honor of Billy people called him Red Billy Snow. Billy went down in Science history. 

 

                                             The Red Christmas tree Poem

by: Zachary J.

 

The Red Christmas tree

It was very easy to see

My friends said it was cheesy

 

It was as bright as a red jolly rancher

It was beautiful like the red petals on a rose

It had a happy pose

 

Santa loved the tree 

The elfs shoved to be free

This was a picture that would go on my shelves for years

 

It was so beautiful that half the country had tear

It was near the red soft blankets on my bed

That was my poem on the red tree

So now you see anything can be red

 

untitle haiku 

by: Zachary J.

 

The mean creepy elves

Gigantic ear weepy elves

Fear the jingle bells

Tristan S.

The Missing Kid

by: Daisy S., Alexa M. & Tennyson R.

 

     Hi, I’m Jonah, I’m a junior at Meadows High School. I am the midfielder on my 

school’s  varsity lacrosse team. There’s a game today and I am super nervous, 

but I think we got this. I’m walking over to the field when I see my friend Eli. We go over

 together and we talk about the game. By the first half we’re winning 6-0 and I think we

 got this. But, by the 3rd period we are up 12-0. I take the draw, I get the ball, I see my

 teammates open for a pass. I’m nervous, I really don’t want to lose the ball. Before I

 knew it, I shot at the other team’s goal and scored… I got the other team a goal, the

 scores now 12-1 but now my teammates are mad. How stupid can I be? I’m supposed

 to be the role model for the freshmen, and I shot at the other team’s goal. That’s

 possibly the worst thing I could’ve done at the moment.

I get home and I tell my parents they claim they’re not mad, just the usual

disappointment, so I go up to my room. I suddenly hear a ringing in my left

 pocket. An unknown number. Weird. I unlock my phone, where my eyes meet

 the screen. “Come to the woods. No questions asked.” I mean I’m not stupid

 enough to just walk into the woods, with someone I don’t even know. A pounding

 in my head, full of second thoughts. My teammates hate me, my parents are

 disappointed, and worst of all I ruined my one chance to get a scholarship to

 Princeton. Maybe I should go into the woods, maybe it’s just better to disappear

 forever. Before I knew it, I grabbed my backpack, my phone, and a flashlight. I

 guess I’m really doing this. I run down the stairs, grab my car keys, and speed

 away in my Mazda. Seconds, minutes, possibly even an hour. I screech to a

 stop on the side of the highway and go into the woods, leaving nothing behind me. No

regrets.

 

16 years later:

Many years after I ran far far away I was offered the position of lacrosse coach here at

 Meadows High School. This place is not a place of fond memories, I was forced to do

 things I never wanted to do. Every day I dream of what my life could’ve been like if I

 didn’t disappear from my entire future. If I didn’t only see my parents once a year. I

 possibly could’ve gotten a second chance, a chance to go pro, and I blew it. Maybe I

 can put this in the past as well, I guess we’ll see.

Tristan S.

After all I did for you

by: Erica K.

It was a lovely day, the sun was bright, shining, the wind blowing lazily this way and that. But my feeling was anything but happy and lovely. I felt a storm of emotions – rage, sadness, betrayal.

A few days back, I had carefully planned a perfect surprise for a dear friend’s birthday, and as the date grew closer, my excitement grew with it. But the day before, I had heard other people saying bad things about me, mocking me, their loud voices making the cluster of trees concealing them useless. My dear friend was with that group, not mocking me, but also not defending me.

The next day, I acted as if nothing was wrong. I smiled at the people who mocked me, I hugged my friend, but on the inside I was seething with rage.

My friend walked over to me, beaming.

“Thanks so much! I loved the surprise.”

I don’t even try to return the smile, and my friend frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“You can tell me what happened last night.”

“I…nothing…you know?”

“Obviously.”

I can easily imagine the hurt and rage showing on my face, but I don’t try to hide it. I say coldly “It didn’t seem like you would tell me about it anytime soon. How many times have you been with them when they talked down on me? Why didn’t you defend me? I always helped you, defended you, but you can’t return the favor?”

My friend remains silent for a second, the guilt and hurt on their face easy to read, like reading one of those silly picture books I had when I was young. “I just…sorry.”

I turn my back and leave. Having a friend who won’t help you after how you helped them is no different than having no friend at all.

 

Henry K.

THE STORY

by: George P.

One day the story of two great friends ended. 

This is the story of Opal and Timothy.  

They both had the same dream, to become a professional sleeper.  

BUT only one person per age group could get selected.  Who would become the pro sleeper?! They had to try to sleep as long as possible, so when the challenge came Opal woke Tim up. Only Opal knew what he did. He had to make sure no one found out that he cheated.  Ten years later… Opal got confronted by Tim.  

Tim said, “I know you cheated. It took me ten long years to realize but I never would have woken up unless someone touched me.”  

Opal responded, “No I didn’t –  I’m sorry that I’m better than you at sleeping!” 

“Hey, you!” yelled a security guard. Tim ran away and was never to be seen again by Opal but deep down in his heart Opal knew that he cheated!

Shaleen S.

Halloween

by: Henry K.

Many, many, years ago, a boy named Billy lived in the town of Tombstone, Arizona. On an unusually chilly Halloween, Billy went trick-or-treating alone for the first time. He was supposed to be home by 10 pm. He never returned home. However, 20 years later, his costume, a robot, appeared on the porch of his house. His parents thought it a joke and threw it out, not wanting to be reminded of their late son. The next year, it was found again, this time haunted. It called out “Help! Somebody help me! Let go! I want to go home!” Legend has it that every year, on Halloween, Billy’s costume comes to life, trying to free himself from whatever is keeping him inside of the costume. Billy’s body was never found.

 

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Arrow Online 2025 Post #4

Dedicated to some 5th grade creativity:

How about these self-portraits?!

And now some poems…

Happiness

by: Theodore B.

Happiness is like a scale 

If you have too much of it you lose control

Too little of it and you become an empty shell

A fair amount of it 

You become one person

With a happy day

 

Mystery          

by: Tate F.              

 

In the darkness of the pitch black night

Nightmares rise up and come to life

 

To haunt you

 

To scare you

 

To make you wake up, eyes wide with fear

A wisp of smoke

A crow’s caw

Will scare you.

 

You will scream, but no sound will come out.

 

And then

When the sun peaks up over the horizon

It all fades away

 

Just to happen again the 

Very

Next 

Night 

 

FEAR

by: Theodore B.

 

Fear is a bad omen. 

It’s a prickle on your skin.

It’s the pounding of your heart.

It’s a twitch in your eye.

It tells you: 

Don’t do that, 

Or

Warns you: That’s dangerous.

It’s a mental sign,

but you’re the only one who can see it.
It’s your mental guard,
protecting you from harm. 

Fear is a sign to 

not do a thing again,

not a symbol you run from 

only to make the same mistake again.

 

Fall 

by: Rose W.

 

Fall is a cold and beautiful season, 

Leaves falling without reason, 

Red and orange fill the sky, 

When wind blows, leaves can fly,

On October 31st, a spooky night, 

Evil awakes, and takes flight,

This dark night is Halloween.

Monsters walk this night unseen. 

Wind gusts through the air, 

swirling, whirling, without a care.

Children bundled, dressed for cold, 

as the season grows old,

bare trees, going to sleep,

catching light to store and keep,

as fall begins its chill end, 

one bird migrates, then its friend.

First one snowflake, then another, 

“It is winter”, we say to each other

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Arrow Online 2025 Post #3

An assortment of middle schoolers art: painting, drawings, sculptures and photos –

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Arrow Online 2025 Post #2

An Assortment of 6th Grade Writing:

 

An Autumn day

by: Andy F.

 

Leaves crunching, changing, falling,

plants decaying, shriveling, dying,

night taking up more of the day,

clouds push the blue skies away.

Smells of smoke fill the air,

while hats warm hair.

Trees become bare.

Birds leave for the south

as darkness falls over the north. 

As leaves hit the ground, 

warm cider is passed around.

Red, yellow, brown appear

as fall happens here.

 

Winters

by: Audrey M.

The sight of the snow falling angelically looks like a winter wonderland you see in movies. In the background, I hear the sounds of people in the kitchen getting snacks, of people talking and dogs running all around wrestling each other and fighting for toys. My grandfather is in the same place as always – the head of the dining room table on his iPad reading the news. All the while, I sit by the fire with my grandmother and cousins playing board games. 

This is winter in Canada, and the best part is when there is fresh maple sap which is just sugar and water combined, but it will turn into the most majestic thing you can eat. My uncle brings the sap back from the cold, snowy outdoors with his slobbery dog who smells like grass and mud all mixed together, who comes in to get tummy rubs but just knocks people over with his tail. When my uncle starts to boil the maple sap – something he has been doing since Covid – my grandmother will start warming up milk for her hot cocoa. It’s just plain old pre-packaged cocoa, but it’s still super smooth and sweet and brown like the light brown part of a chestnut. 

The first time I tried the homemade maple syrup was arguably the best day ever. It’s so sweet and sticky and the most perfect golden brown ever. My uncle who makes this beautiful substance is a freelance photographer and videographer and he wasn’t getting as many job offers at the time so he started devoting his time to bread making and maple syrup making. He doesn’t sell his syrup but just prefers to enjoy his syrup with family, where everyone pitches in to help, even if it’s just to eat it! 

Later on, when it’s around four o’clock and it’s time to feed the sheep, our grandmother and I would go down to the barn to feed the sheep and the cats and pet the baby kitties that are as soft as feathers and their coat colors are as clear as the sky on a summer day. The hardest part is trying to chase down the older cats that will always run away or try to scratch you.

Once we are back from the barn we have to check on the maple syrup, but it needs about one more hour. In the meantime, we need to start making dinner… 

and we always forget something at the guest house. While dinner’s cooking we have to rummage through drawers around the house for matching placemats that we have enough of so that everyone can have matching ones. Then our next problem starts when we need to have utensils because the utensils always need to be wiped down and cleaned because the dishwashers in our Canada houses are pretty terrible and  never clean things properly.

Finally it’s time to have our dinner and my brother and i quickly run down the stairs  that smell musty but also have a hint of freshness and a little bit of a cool smell that can’t actually properly be explained but it brings back many memories for my brother, cousins, and I. Then we have to quickly run right back to our seats after our parents have called us to come upstairs. Dinners are always a big event, our grandfather who always needs to be right. My mother and aunts and uncles will be talking about something trivial and the children will be Waiting on  dessert that my grandmother has. By then it would  be late but we would have to take the maple syrup off the stove and to fill the old maple syrup bottles from the past bottles of this tradition to then enjoy this delectable brown sugary, sticky and thick goop that was once just a plain clear syrup. I hope that this tradition will always stay in our family and maybe one day I will be the one that always almost burns the maple syrup.

 

A Rose Bush

by: Charlotte L.

 

The double-sided bush,

both good and bad,

both sharp and charming.

The forces fight for power.

Who will win?

 

The rosebush is Janus, 

the double-faced Greek god,

but instead of past and future,

villain and hero.

 

A kind, caring bunch of petals,

centered around a narcissistic yellow circle.

they see the good in all, want to care for all,

cursed with spiky, fuming thorns.

 

A mean, spiteful flower,

anger and resent lingering 

from sad memories,

weighed down, covered by far too optimistic petals.

 

When the sun rays beat down on the rooftops,

and all plants are in full bloom,

with their vibrant, screeching colors,

the rosebush, flowering,

pink, red, yellow, white, orange, purple, green,

like a new, better rainbow.

covering the green yuckiness underneath

 

When flakes of frozen water coat the ground,

and the animals are snoring away,

the rosebush, tinged with brown,

its dead petals littered on the grass.

And there’s only the green yuckiness left 

 

The melodic feeling of the warm sunshine

on my body as I 

swung back and forth, thinking, I’m flying, 

on an inside-of-a-cucumber green swing.

I prepared to do one of my cool tricks:

jumping off the swing with my momentum.

In front of me, a rosebush, 

one I’d never hit doing my trick before.

I underestimated my strength and 

stumbled into the rose’s thorns.

And I swear I heard 

the prickly thorns laughing!

 

The rancid sight of a siren,

except disguised as pure beauty,

waiting for prey.

So alluring, so pretty,

but it all conceals the 

trap underneath,

like a Venus flytrap 

but much more attractive.

 

A rosebush that

always tried to be kind.

But it was too trusting

and was eventually harvested,

just to make some hairy mammals smell better.

So it learned

and grew spikes.

 

Calm, nonchalant vines

and fuming destructive thorns 

and cheerful, delightful rose flowers

all merged into one

to create the rosebush.

Ways of Seeing a Rose Bush

I

The double sided bush,

both good and bad,

both sharp and charming.

The forces fight for power.

Who will win?

 

II

The rosebush is Janus

the double-faced Greek god,

but instead of past and future,

villain and hero.

 

III

A kind, caring bunch of petals,

centered around a narcissistic yellow circle.

they see the good in all, want to care for all,

cursed with spiky, fuming thorns.

 

IV

A mean, spiteful flower,

anger and resent lingering 

from sad memories,

weighed down, covered by far too optimistic petals.

 

V

When the sun rays beat down on the rooftops,

and all plants are in full bloom,

with their vibrant, screeching colors,

the rosebush, flowering,

pink, red, yellow, white, orange, purple, green,

like a new, better rainbow.

covering the green yuckiness underneath

 

VI

When flakes of frozen water coat the ground,

and the animals are snoring away,

the rosebush, tinged with brown,

its dead petals littered on the grass.

And there’s only the green yuckiness left 

 

VII

The melodic feeling of the warm sunshine

on my body as I 

swung back and forth, thinking, I’m flying, 

on a inside-of-a-cucumber green swing.

I prepared to do one of my cool tricks:

jumping off the swing with my momentum.

In front of me, a rosebush

one I’d never hit doing my trick before.

I underestimated my strength and 

stumbled into the rose’s thorns.

And I swear I heard 

the prickly thorns laughing!

 

VIII

The rancid sight of a siren,

except disguised as pure beauty,

waiting for prey.

So alluring, so pretty,

but it all conceals the 

trap underneath,

like a Venus flytrap 

but much more attractive.

 

IX

A rosebush that

always tried to be kind.

But it was too trusting, 

and was eventually harvested,

just to make some hairy mammals smell better.

So it learned,

and grew spikes.

 

X

Calm, nonchalant vines

and fuming, destructive thorns 

and cheerful, delightful rose flowers

all merged into one

to create the rosebush.

 

The Australian Mystery

by: Baz C. & Kai H.

Characters

  • Bob – A chicken detective who solves the mysteries for a living
  • Donald – A penguin 
  • Jeremy – A polar bear that gets murdered 
  • Wyatt – A male arctic fox 
  • Christina – A female arctic fox
  • Raul – A koala who kills Jeremy and he works at a snow cone stand
  • Siri (V/o)

 

Scene 1: A snow-cone stand

(Lights up on a snow cone stand covered in snow at night in Sydney, Australia. It is snowing and it is cold outside. These three friends are sitting on a bench next to the stand eating their snow cones.)

Donald: These snow cones are so good!

Jeremy: I know, right? What are they made with?

Donald: Snow? What else would they be made with?

Jeremy: Hey, don’t be mean. I can be mean too, and trust me, you don’t want 

that.

Donald: Doesn’t matter. You know I’m stronger than you.

Jeremy: Oh yeah? I’d like to see you prove it.

Donald: Alright then.

Raul: I can’t stand this fighting! Stop it!

Jeremy: NO! I WILL KEEP FIGHTING WITH Donald!

Raul: Alright then, on the count of 3, I need you guys to stop fighting. 3…

Donald:  Stop!

Raul: 2…

Jeremy: Excuse me?

Raul: 1… Actually, do you want another snow cone? On the house.

Jeremy: Sure! This penguin won’t have any though. Hahaha

Raul: That’s fine! 

Raul: Here you go!

Jeremy: Thanks! (Eats a little, then falls unconscious and takes a nap forever)

Scene 2: Bob the chicken goes to town to work

(A crowd gathers around a big spot of red liquid that weirdly looks like blood)

Bob: What happened here? Who did this?!

Wyatt: (To Christina) Why is there a chicken solving crimes? Shouldn’t he be at the farm?

Christina: Shhh, honey. He looks serious.

Bob: (Turning to the crowd) Did anyone see what happened here?

Raul: I saw it! It was Bob!

(Crowd Gasps, makes noises like “oh my”, etc.)

Bob: W-Wh-What?! I did nothing of the sort! I was coming to ask what you saw!

Don’t point fingers at me before you have some solid evidence!

Scene 3: 

Raul: Hey siri. How to hide a body. (He says with a grin on his face)

Siri (V/O): According to Wikipedia you need a shovel and a tarp to…

Raul: No! Without supplies!

Siri (V/O): Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, can you say it again?

Raul: WITHOUT SUPPLIES!

Siri (V/O): Searching for: With Lies. I found 1 result from howtoburyabody.com. You need to take the body and bury it next to a police station.

Raul: Okay, but why a police station?

Siri (V/O): LOW BATTERY PLEASE CHARGE

Raul: Ok! FINE! I guess I’ll bury it next to the police station.

Scene 4: 

(Wyatt soon sees Raul carrying a big bag that seems to look like a person, or a polar bear) 

Wyatt: IT WAS YOU! I ALWAYS KNEW IT WAS YOU!!!

Raul: Wait, What did I do?

Wyatt: Uuuummmmmmmmmmmm, nothing!

(Wyatt starts to slowly walk backwards towards the police station, while suddenly Bob pops out of the bushes!)

Bob: Put your paws in the air like you just don’t care!!!!

Raul: But I do care.

(BANG)

To Be Continued In 2099

 

Amazon Adventure

By: Adam Y.

Slip! Smash! Smack! John slips and falls through a 100 foot tree falling down smashing on branches. While John is falling he sees his friend Mack falling down below him.  John sees Mack landing on a branch and reaching out his hand to try and save John. John sees the hand and grabs Mack’s hand. Mack’s sweaty hand collapses into John’s hand. Mack barely catches John with his sweaty hand and seeing the fear in his eyes, he pulls John’s hand up as hard as he can onto the big branch.

This is the story of John who is a climber and Mack both of whom have two fears: wild animals and skydiving so they decide to overcome their fears by skydiving deep into the Amazon rainforest until they get picked up at the same exact spot 6 hours later. The two friends catch their breath on the large branch and look around. Mack says “ Why did you make us come here? You could’ve got both of us killed.”John shakes his head and walks away. Mack has no trust in John to keep both of them alive until they get picked. Will John and Mack survive the Amazon rainforest?

Three weeks ago John had an idea to overcome his fear of wild animals but he was too scared to go by himself. So, he decided to bring his friend Mack who is scared of skydiving. Two friends Mack and John jump out of a helicopter and land onto a tree that looked as tall as the Eiffel tower standing at 100 feet tall. 

     The first thing the two friends see are many different animals and insects such as tall trees with terrifying tiny tarantulas and jaguars jogging in the jungle. Mack instantly realizes that this is a horrible idea and blames John. John responds by saying “You did not have to sign up for this but you did.”

    Deep in the amazon rainforest where sloth’s swing and snakes slither, John and his friend Mack land on a tree. John climbs down the wet tree with ease because of his amazing climbing skills and experience. Mack on the other hand is not experienced and too scared to explore so he stays on the tree. Drip splash, John hears and feels the water dripping onto his head from the tall moist trees. While walking John climbs down the tree and  locks eyes with 8 snakes. The snakes start to chase John but John is smart and knows that a single bite from a snake could send you straight to the emergency room. So, he decides to climb back up the tree as fast as he can to wait for the snakes to slither up the tree. Luckily for John the slithering snakes stay on the ground and slither off.

     John tells Mack that the snakes are gone and that it is safe. Mack hesitates but sees that there are no animals in the distance. Mack still does not trust John but he doesn’t want to be a wimp, So the 2 friends climb down the tree and go to explore. The second they get down a camouflage crocodile 20 feet long  with teeth as sharp as a knife tries to eat them with the crocodile’s mouth, but the crocodile can’t fit both of them in his mouth so they both push up as hard as they can and realize that most likely only one person is going to escape the mouth of the crocodile. So, Mack decides to escape while his friend is stuck in the mouth of a crocodile trying to save both Mack and Himself. Chomp Clamp, Mack luckily hops out of the crocodile’s mouth and runs, almost getting chomped by the crocodile’s sharp teeth.

     John has no trust in Mack at all. Mack decides to look for safety and climbs back onto the big tree that they landed on. John also climbs up to the tree because he also is very scared. The 2 friends keep their distance standing on the edge of both sides of the tree. On the tree it was as slippery as ice because it rained. John was on the edge of the tree and slipped, falling down the tree smashing on branches until, seeing his friend Mack catching and holding him on a branch.

     John thanks Mack for saving his life. Mack and John now both have trust in each other and become friends again. The 6 hours are over and Mack and John finally go home. Mack is happy that he overcame his fear of skydiving and now is friends with John again. John returns home full of excitement to write about his experience going to the amazon rainforest.

 

Ways of Seeing Ice Cream

by: Akash K.

1.

A cold treat,

So soft and sweet 

2.

A cooler,

On a the sourly hot days of summer

3.

Vanilla, Chocolate, Strawberry

So many flavors, 

All so soft and sweet,

Each different,

So hard to choose

4.

Having a perfectly sweet and cold vanilla ice cream,

The color of snow,

By a scorching hot beach as hot as the sun

On a day as hot as the sweltering  sun,

The white coldness of the ice cream,

Mixing with the scorching heat of the sun

5.

A frozen blob of cream,

Holding an evil soul within,

Too cold,

And hurts the teeth

6.

A kind hearted soul,

Saving us all,

From the fierceful heat

 

Friendship Bracelet

by: Audrey M.

1

First time wearing it ever

You and your friends excitement to be matching

Your bracelet being the symbol of your friendship

It’s like a string on a clothesline, holding the two parts together

2

Tanning on the beach

And wearing it in the sun could lead to a tan

But you won’t end up caring

Because your new bracelet will still be sitting perfectly clean on your wrist

Like a trophy of your friendship

2

Soaking in the ocean or pool

And  the putrid feeling of getting it wet

Though you get used to it the feeling is still like a wet rag on your arm

3

The sour feeling of sand getting stuck in it

Its gritty and hard to ignore

You vigorously try to scrub it out

But you know that won’t work

You will just end up ignoring the uncomfortable feeling

4

Whether it’s pink, green , orange, or blue

It will go on many adventures with you

The colors are like a bright rainbow after rain

And it brings you happiness just like a rainbow

5

It ages with the summer

As summer progress it gets older 

It’s still your keepsake and you won’t let go of it until the very end

6

And it holds memories of summer days just like a buried time capsule

And it keeps the secrets of those summer days

It feels special and like a symbol of your fun days in the sun

7

When summertime is ending it starts to itch and fade 

And when it starts becoming too small you have to dreadfully cut it off

Marking an end to your summer of fun

Wagyu Wonderland

by: Baz C.

     Wagyu to me is like an entirely different world ; I feel that my taste buds are dancing. To me and my family, wagyu is like the melting pot of different ingredients that brings us together to have an outstanding dinner, and it feels like my taste buds are cheering for the best Japanese food in the world. When it comes out of the oven it feels as hot as the sun and as flavorful as all the best ingredients in the entire world.

     When I’m waiting to get my food at a restaurant my dad always says, “Try to starve yourself and don’t eat too much before you have your main course.” And while I’m waiting for my wagyu I can smell the amazing piece of meat and I feel that I’m right there because it smells like heaven in a pot, cooking because of the amazing aromas that I can smell. The ingredients to make this wonderful dish are mixed with butter, olive oil, parsley, salt and pepper, and that’s all I know about making the greatest steak in the world (wagyu). My mom always tells me,”The perfect steak is always made with the best ingredient which is, putting your heart and soul into the steak.” And a good technique with all steak is when you finish cooking, cut into the steak and make sure that it’s the perfect pink color.

      Heaven. That’s what the first bite of wagyu wonderland is, inside your taste buds having a dance party and on the outside me and my family are saying, “That’s some good steak right there.” and then we’re all taking more bites and digging in on the best steak in the world. And some people don’t know that the secret about wagyu is the marble when it’s raw and that marble looks like a granite counter. That’s what makes this steak amazing is the marble when the steak is raw and all that marble keeps the steak nice and juicy. Plus that marble is the cool part of the steak, because no other steak has marble like A5 wagyu.

     What this food means to me is, it makes me have a good feeling inside like excitement and joy. It makes me want to jump for joy. 

      The culture it comes from is Japan and they’re known for sushi, nigiri, ramen, and sashimi. Sushi is white rice, fish, vegetables, and it is all wrapped in nori (seaweed). Sashimi is sliced fish and nigiri is also sliced fish but with rice on top. Ramen is just steamed noodles with corn, meat, and sometimes topped with a boiled egg. Fun fact, wagyu is the most delicious cut of meat in the world.

      The Japanese food culture is probably the richest when it comes to flavor, because Japan brings in spices, seafood, veggies, and meat. And one food that people love from Japanese cuisine is sushi. Sushi is filled with maybe veggies and shellfish, but every piece of sushi has white rice wrapped in seaweed. Some pieces of sushi could have crab, lobster, and maybe some avocados. Another food cuisine the Japanese created and is awesome is onigiri, onigiri is like sushi but a little different. Unlike sushi, onigiri is bigger and has some type of meat on the inside such as salmon, crab, and lobster. In my opinion tempura is one of the best Japanese foods. Tempura is fish and/or shellfish with vegetables which are fried with some type of batter and you could have them with soy sauce, ponzu, tonkatsu sauce, and mirin. Another food made and loved by the Japanese is nigiri which is raw fish that tastes just like the ocean. Also, when you come into a Japanese restaurant such as Nobu, there is no silverware, just chopsticks resting on a rock. When you get your dish at a Japanese restaurant and you get your sushi, nigiri, or sashimi, it’s not served on a regular plate, it’s served on black or white rugged plate and the food is warm and soy sauce in a teapot.

       Ultimately, wagyu is the best cut of meat and tastes like a wagyu wonderland.

Ways of Seeing a Marshmallow

by: Isaac Z.

1

Bubbling like the clouds

As fluffy as hair

A marshmallow sits on my plate

2

One by one

The marshmallows fall into my mouth

Melting and dissolving as time passes

3

Warm looking powdered snow on the outside

Squeaky cotton candy on the inside

4

I held it firmly in my hand

Squished it so hard

Until, sssssss, it became a deflated balloon

But it popped back into shape.

5

Whether you eat them in one bite

Or put them in your hot cocoa

All ways are good to eat

6

Coming in different sizes

Giant ones and tiny ones

Some too big to fit in your mouth

Every size deserves a try

7

Nowadays, I never eat them or even see them

I miss their fragrant taste

And their rough, silky surface

 

untitled

by: Amelia M.

 

“Here’s your case. Do your job right or not at all.” 

“Yes Sir,” Agent Nathan responded. Nathan was a 5 foot 10, brown-haired agent for the British secret government. He is about to go on his new case. He has to stop Lizzie Sparrow’s company. She has a machine that controls her employees’ minds.

  “Ok. what to do, what to do…” Nathan thought out loud. “Ah! That’s it! I’ll sneak into Lizzie’s company as an employee!” Little did Lizzie know, Nathan had seen her government files, and he has a major crush on her. So, Nathen was very excited to be on a case to do with Lizzie. 

“Ok. What do people at Lizzie’s company wear?” Nathan asked. “Why would I know? I only design the disguises.” Said the disguise designer in her British accent. “Fine. I’ll figure it out myself.” Nathan stated. Just then, a paper airplane soared into the room that said, “People at Lizzie’s company wear black jeans and blue polo shirts.” “Well that’s helpful.” Nathan claimed. “Good. Your disguise will be ready in one hour.” “Great. I’ll leave tomorrow morning.” 

The next morning, Nathan had snuck into Lizzie’s company and started looking for the machine. “So, you’re the new guy?” an employee asked. “Yeah, I just started working here.” “Sure. Do you want me to show you around? You look lost.” “Yes! I mean, yeah sure.” 

Nathan and this employee (named John) were walking around when all of a sudden Lizzie popped out of a door that read, “Do not enter.” “Hey boss. What were you doing in there?” “Oh! uhh, nothing?” Lizzie tried to excuse herself from this conversation. “Ok, well, uhh, bye I guess.” Lizzie left. All of a sudden, Nathan knew that the machine was behind that door. He needed to find a way to go in with no one seeing him. 

That’s when he got his (not so) great idea. He decided that he would come back at night. At nine o clock, when work ended, Nathan stayed behind and hid in the breakroom with all the odd looking vending machines. When he assumed that everyone was gone, he went out to find the machine. 

First, he took about thirty minutes to find the door. When he found it, the door was locked. Then, he decided that he would break into Lizzie’s office to try to find the keys. “What are you doing here!!” John yelled. “Umm,” Nathan answered. “I said what are you doing here!!!!” Just then, John attacked him. Nathan and John were fighting in the middle of the empty hallway. Nathan got a big blow to the face. In response, he kneed John’s stomach. This somehow did not affect him at all. Then he tried to punch John in the side of the head, but this did nothing. Just then, John grabbed hold of Nathan and brought him to Lizzie’s office. 

Little did Nathan know, the door he saw Lizzie come out of was not where the machine was. As he was being dragged to Lizzie’s office, he started thinking about what would happen to him. By the time he got to Lizzie’s office, he only just started thinking about his well-being. 

“Hey boss. I found this guy wandering the halls.” John told lizzie. “Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Wait, who do we have here?”  Lizzie asked. “Well, this is the one and only, well, umm, wait who are you?” John asked. “I’m just an employee here at the company.” Nathan responded. “Oh yeah, then tell us what this company produces.”

 Lizzie told Nathan. “Um, we produce, uhh, underwear?” Nathan guessed. “Wrong! He’s an imposter!” John screamed. “Let’s not jump to conclusions now, John.” Lizzie reassured. “If you don’t know what we sell here, you don’t work here. So why are you here? And who are you?” “I’m just a loyal employee, trying to find the mind control machine.” Nathan answered stupidly. “Good luck with that. You’ll never find the machine. How would you ever guess that the snacks in the vending machine are the mind controllers?” John just told Nathan what the machine is. And how it controls minds. “You idiot! John, you’re so stupid! Why would you tell him!?” Lizzie screamed. 

“You. you will not leave this room alive. Neither of you!” Just then, Lizzie threw a dagger at John. Shing! The dagger stabbed John right in the stomach. He was gasping for air as he fell to the ground. “Your next.” Lizzie threatened. “Lizzie, please, don’t do this.” Nathan pleaded. “How do you know my name?!” Lizzie asked. “None of my employees know my name.” “That’s because I’m not one of your employees.” Nathan responded. “Then who are you!!” Lizzie demanded.

 “I, I, well.” Nathan tried to respond. “Answer me or you never will!” “Ok, ok. I’m a spy. I have a case to try and stop your company.” “Why?” “Because you take control of your employee’s minds!” That was one step too far. Nathan should not have yelled at lizzie. She got so mad, she tried to throw another dagger at him. He somehow dogged it. “Lizzie, please, I love you!” “What?! I barely even know you. You barely even know me!” lizzie screamed. “Yes, but I’ve seen your criminal files! Although, you do look a little different in person.” “What? I don’t have any criminal files. Wait. Stop. What do you think my last name is!?” “Robinson, obviously.” “You moron! My last name is Sparrow!” “What!? How?” Just then Nathan came to his senses. “No, you mean this whole case I’ve been working on is at the wrong company!” “Yep. and since I have no criminal records, no one will suspect I killed you!” “No! Please! Lizzie, don’t do this!” It was too late. Lizzie had already thrown the knife. Nathan was now dead. Laying on the ground. The knife had stabbed him right in the chest. All of a sudden, 10 agents barged in from nowhere. Lizzie tried to fight back, but there were too many of them. The agents arrested Lizzie and had a huge funeral for Nathan. They also shut down Lizzie’s company and set all the employees free. 

 

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by: Georgia Anne E.

Sometimes when entering middle school or any new place in general it can be scary, some even dread the thought of it. I would like to explain to all of you future middle schoolers out there that it doesn’t have to be so scary. To help reassure your nerves there’s nothing better than being prepared for what to expect. And I don’t just mean academically, You also have to be emotionally prepared for starting middle school. As all the kids are starting to develop more, sometimes people’s emotions can get out of control or their personality’s start to change. Deep down they are the same kids, but now they have to become more mature and take on more responsibility, so that eventually they can learn and grow. Despite the changes Elementary students could be excited to open up a new chapter in their life’s that is middle school.

 

Ways of Seeing a Spider

by: Nolan P.

I

A vibration shakes my web;

I know I’ve snagged my dinner.

I greedily devour the juicy morsel,

my fangs screaming red.

II

I fly blindly,

 straight into the trap.

My end is near.

I’m wrapped in silk,

my coffin lid sealed.

III

Spider!

A wave of fear washes over me

My skin becomes pale as the sky before a storm,

My breaths become shallow.

IV

I think spiders are helpful,

they have good souls inside,

but their hair-raising shell

Is just not beautified.

V

I watch the spider carefully,

Waiting for a time to strike.

Bam! It drops dead.

Splattered burgundy against the white mattress.

No more spiders in the bed.

VI

My wood insides are booming

with the silk that they make.

Their favorite home

right next to the lake.

VII

I am born from the weavers,

as a thin but strong thread.

I am used to weave

An intricate spread.

VIII

I remember back on that salty summer day

when I finally came alive.

The world was full of unknown dangers.

Rich, Creamy Hazelnut & Cocoa Spread

by: Archie A.

1

A favorite for many kidsA sauce/spread on many things

2

The comforting rich, creamy, cocoa  smell

That makes you want to have a sneaky secret tasTE

3

Every time i eat it, It reminds me of my childhood

Where i would put it on anything and everythingI could possibly think of

It has many options for putting It on something

 such as a waffle Drizzled

 to where you can barely see the squares anymore

5

Or even a dipping for a toasty cinnamon churro

 that’s as soft as freshly fallen snow,

which tastes like a whole new level of heaven 

6

A parent’s worst nightmare,

When they say only a little to the kid 

And they end up going crazy

7

The pill to a never ending

 sugar rush

8

A forever Favorite snack,

To where you don’t even think what you want

9

A breakfast, lunch and dinner,

Dream of a kid

10

A secret spoonful

That your parents Will never know about

11

The happy sight

Of nutella spread everywhere

12

The cozy taste

Of warm hazelnut 

 

             A Scoop of Delight

by: Fiona Y.

     Last summer, my family and I went on a vacation in Italy for two weeks. During that trip, I fell in love with a special, delicious treat, made the best in Italy- gelato. Hearing about it, I have always thought, It’s probably no different from the regular ice-cream we eat here at home. But surprisingly, gelato made that summer unforgettable. 

     Throughout our visit in Italy – Florence, Rome, Venice, and Milan – I enjoyed each city, museum, and scenic place. Even though the summertime sun was beating down on us and the heat was intense, I walked around each of the cities, immersing myself in the spectacular sites, ancient ruins, and distinctive museums. No matter where I went, there were always tiny shops along the main street to explore. Ahead I saw GROM, a gelateria, with bright, yellow lights and delicate, jingling bells hanging on the front door. Through the front glass, I could see the various flavors, colorful and placed next to each other in shiny, gold tins, the scoops dispensed into either a bowl, a cone, or a sundae glass, shaped with exquisite spirals. Most of the flavors were ones that I’d never heard of, ranging from seasonal regional fruits and local nuts to herbs and even spices, such as wasabi and saffron. 

     I picked a pale, lilac-tinted lavender and a vibrant, rosy peach in a tall cone. As I bit down into the crispy, hazelnut cone, the sun was starting to set, depicting vibrate shades from bubble gum and pink lace to the hazy lavender mixed with shades of periwinkle. 

     Standing in front of the Fontana Di Trevi in Rome, with its glistening, Prussian waters and faint reflection, holding a gelato in one hand, I looked around. At the sight of so many people eating this treat, I felt as if gelato was a unique greeting, only found in Italy. This frozen dessert greeted all the visitors, just like local Italians welcomed us warmly everywhere we went. Their hospitality was symbolized by gelato’s colorful appearance and creamy, delicious texture, bringing us a special impression of Italy in the sultry summer of 2023. 

 

Stay School Chair, Stay 

by: Cecelia F.

 

I sit in a chair

I stay in a chair

I cannot adjust the chair

“Don’t lean back”

“Stop rocking”

“Stay in your chair”

Like a punishment 

Do they mean for it to be mean?

Or relaxing? 

Or do they not care?

Every day I sit in my chair

Assigned to not move,

to not make a sound

Just to “Sit in your chair”

And all will be well.

But if I cannot adjust 

All will be lost 

No longer want to learn

Why come here at all?

Nothin can stop it 

Nothing will work

Just stay in your 

“And all will be well”

 

Ways of Seeing Snow

by: Charlie M.

1.

A vast large snow storm,

bringing fresh snow to play in

2.

The snow is silently white,

And it goes on forever.

3.

The snow, dry like sand yet wet like water,

But not a mix,

Is the most beautiful thing.

4.

Stuffing my face in the sugary snow from exhaustion

After marching up the giant, endless hill with my sled,

Over and over again, because it was worth it.

5.

Skiing through fresh powder,

Sliding on clouds.

6.

hundreds of gentle crystals,

Floating down to join their friends.

7.

Me and my siblings running outside,

Grabbing our sleds and throwing screaming snowballs,

Laughing our heads off when we get hit,

or when we jump on each others sleds,

Having the time of our lives

 

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by: Faye F.

     A few years ago I remember spending a few weeks at a lake house in Connecticut that was owned by a famous chef. At this house, there was a HUGE pizza oven made out of stone that we would make pizzas in every night. I remember bonding with my family, experimenting with different dough recipes and kinds of pizzas. Eating the pizza felt like I stepped into a different universe, with the crunchy, chewy crust, and the soft doughy inside. It reminded me of being on the lake, tubing, sunset boat rides, and water skiing. It made me feel like I was at my happy place, the lake. Coming back to the future, a year ago we actually bought our own pizza oven, (not as big), but we knew we had a lot of memories coming.

     Prepping the pizza was always my favorite step to making pizza. My mom typically made the dough, it was always so soft and fresh. Making the dough was the longest part because we had to let it sit for at least 5 hours, but as they say good things take time! Sometimes I would even help her with the dough, but it always ended in my hands being sticky. Then my favorite part was the toppings. When the dough was almost finished my dad started making the toppings for our pizzas. We would have fresh mozzarella, marinara sauce, chicken, barbecue sauce, pesto, chicken sausage, pineapple, bacon, basil, you name it! One of my favorite things is that we each got to make our own pizza, and eventually we would share all our pizzas and try each other’s pizzas. After we were finished making our own pizzas we would put them in the hot oven and I could hear the mesmerizing crackles of the fire. When we put the pizzas in the oven it would only take a few minutes, because the temperature would get to 800-900 degrees Fahrenheit. When they were finished cooling off my mom would cut them into small slices and put them on a plate and when I heard my parents call “Dinner” I knew it was time for a yummy meal. 

     After our whole family sat around the table it was time to dig in.  I picked up a piece of margarita pizza and dug in. It was the perfect amount of crunch and doughiness with the sweet and salty marinara sauce that can make anyone’s mouth drool. I savored all the flavors in my mouth wishing it would never stop. The feeling of eating pizza in the summer time with the sun glaring on your back is top tier. Before I knew it I chowed down on so many slices of pizza, with a variety of more sweet pizzas, to more salty, all of them being just right. My favorite pizza that I make though has to be my barbecue chicken, because the sweetness of the sauce and the saltiness of the chicken, make my taste buds dance. If I had to eat one food for the rest of my life it would definitely be pizza because there are lots of different textures and flavors that make you keep eating it.

     In Italy, where pizza was made during lunch and dinner is the time they get to sit down and get into deep conversations with their loved ones, normally when they are having a meal it takes them hours to finish, that is because instead of the average Americans who just sit down, eat and leave, they head into long conversations and talk about how their lives are going. They actually bond with each other and spread joy with one another. That reminds me of when I eat pizza with my family. It’s one of the only moments of the week where we talk about our weeks and how we’re doing, so it’s really meaningful to me. Also we typically only make pizza in the summer, so it celebrates that summer is starting and who doesn’t love summer? All in all to me pizza definitely means more to me than just a food, it’s about friends and family.

 

Mankind. 

by: Amy C.

 

Monstrous, mad and malevolent

Atrocious, ambitious, attention seekers

Needy, nasty naughty

Killers, kindness is rare

Intelligence; common

Never challenge, they will win

Doomed us all.

 

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by: Michael C.

Fire crackling strongly, leaves turning slowly and inevitably, 

the cool breeze against my skin prickling, burning, yet pleasant,

ash piled up in a pillar of the once-proud, trees barren and deprived of their previous glory, 

the harsh winter wind attacking me.

All comes to an end, all slips away, nothing escapes the pull of time.

In months’, now weeks’, now only a days’ time

autumn’s beauty will slip away.

Bright green full of youth, 

yellow, orange, and red of admirence, 

then brown and… nothing.

Kindling being set the beginning of a soon-roaring force, 

flames like a lion’s mane growing like they’ll never end

The singing of songs, exchanging of stories, and roasting of marshmallows with love in the air, then… nothing

Naught escapes nothing, all’s beauty is truly shown when reduced to naught

The roaring fires’ orange, red, and blue fury 

only truly gazed at in the right light 

when reduced to a pillar of black and gray powder

a shadow of its once bright light

The prideful trees who cling on till the end,

are only respected once the battle lost

Death, end, naught

Never escaped 

Life, Beginning, all 

Beauty only revealed when one with death

   Immigration, the Islamic revolution, and most importantly, Tachin!

by: Hayes K.

    Before me, before you, before this school, there was Tachin. Passed down from generation to generation, it eventually landed in the somehow fire-retardant hands of Mamman, my grandma. Tachin is not just a food, but for my Persian side, Dad’s side, it’s a symbol of family. Hailing from Iranian cuisine, Tachin is a shining star of Persian culture. 

     When Mamman first moved with her kids, life was starkly different than what they were used to. Tehran is a hustling, bustling city, while the only thing hustling in Westchester are posh moms late for their kid’s soccer games. Tehran had vibrant colors all around the city, while the most vibrant colors in Westchester were the stop signs and speed bumps…On the street in Tehran, you can find many cultural delicacies, like kabob, or saffron rice, emitting aromas like no other, drawing you in.… In America, the only things close to Iran’s street food are the cruddy  Sabrett hot dogs, and the spicy nuts that aren’t actually spicy. (“Ghost pepper”? Yeah  right.) Tachin is a blissful reminder of Iran, and a blissful reminder of foods that aren’t obscenely processed. These days, the only thing you hear about in the news is that Iran has nukes, Iran helps Hamas, Iran is evil, but next to nobody focuses on the cultural side of Iran, which is beautiful. If you ever go to Iran, you’ll find that the hospitality of the Iranian people is unmatched by almost anyone on the planet, even your grandparents! At the forefront of said hospitality is Tachin, and if it is offered to you, be very grateful, as Tachin uses saffron, which is more expensive per ounce than gold! 

    The preparation of a Tachin is one of the most difficult cooking exercises to master.

    For the rice, a mixture of egg, yogurt, oil, and saffron is best, though Tachin can be made with  lots of ingredients if needed. Vegetarian Tachin can be made, but chicken is at the heart of the dish. As it is being crafted by my grandmother’s lovely hands, you can smell this aromatic dish from all around the house. The sizzle on the pan of the chicken  is soothing, as it says that you’re home, you’re fine, you’re with family, and the steam from the rice cooker is all the more aromatic with the saffron. Now let me walk you through what happens pre – Tachin, mid – Tachin,  and post – Tachin; The first stage is waiting. Family members mingle and chow down on appetizers provided by the cook herself, Mamman.  The smell of Tachin fills the room, making room in our once – full bellies for the main event, Tachin. The second stage is when a sharp voice pierces through the chewing and conversation. “Tachin’s ready!,” sings Mamman in her Persian accent, never fully accustomed to America. An air horn simultaneously goes off in our minds and the race is on! Greedy hands rustle onto the counter, ready to strike the moment the Tachin is placed down, a hunt for the best part of the Tachin, the Tadig. Crunchy, warm, and flavorful are words best used to describe Tachin, but tasting it is essential to understanding why it is so special. In a world of burgers, fried chicken, and chips, Tachin is just the thing you need to remind yourself about the outside world. 

     Now, back to the dinner. The Tachin is not served, per se, but exhibited, like a piece of art, the centerpiece of the once – empty dining room table. As soon as it is put down, a flurry of hands whiz from all areas, determined to grab the biggest piece of Tadig they can find, furiously dropping Tadig onto their plates, the plates themselves pieces of art, inscribed with eye – catching design. 

     The room is dimly lit, but spirits are high, and eyes are bright, as the older men shout in Farsi, playing the board game Catan. ( Board games & food? What’s not to like?) A loud CRRUNNCHH!!! echoed through the dining room as hungry diners take their first bite, all the while Mamman smiling at her handiwork. The taste is unlike anything else, meaty, chewy, crunchy, unami, savory, and more.In retrospect, Tachin isn’t just a food, it is the centerpiece of family gatherings, and is a key part of our family’s tradition, and it is loved and valued by all in our family. The best taste in a food is Family. 

 

Homemade Haiku

by: Will A.

Brown and gold, crunchy,

Cinnamon deliciousness,

Warm to the touch, sweet.

 

Honeycrisp, Braeburn,

Gala, Granny Smith, Fuji,

Bubbling warmth, scrumptious.

 

Bursting flavor, rich

Sugary cubes of apple,

Flakey thick crust, joy.

 

Ice cream, vanilla

Atop oven-baked goodness,

Melting cold in heat.

 

Sugar aroma

Surrounding all, inviting

Family moments.

 

Apple pie, delight

Thanksgiving pleasures for all

Oh the memories.

 

Ways of Seeing a Pen

by: Hugo K.

1.

A device used to

Put ink on paper

Nothing more

Nothing less

2.

The almighty creator

Master of infinite universes

Housed in paper and ink

No wonder black is the color 

Of the dark, mysterious expanse of the cosmos 

Absent of shimmering, beautiful light 

But full of hope

It is the color of infinity

3.

Where the quiet black ink flows out of

A booming voice

Without making a sound

4.

The god of knowledge

Passing ink, it’s liquid form

Onto paper

For all to see

5.

The god of chaos

Cause of blood–– soaked war, and skies darkened with ash

Fought against by entire nations

Revered by ours

6.

The primary weapon

Of so many greats

Making justice and freedom

With simple sour words

Whilst not shedding a miniscule drop of of human blood

Just the blood of creativity, ink

Ways of Seeing Alder Trees

by: Kai H.

I     

One single tree

in a forest of thousands

II     

A middle name

A first name

A last name

III     

A firestarter

killing

thousands

IV    

their ashes

fertilizer for millions

V     

Leaves cluttering the yard

like an infestation

VI  

A  home

in many nooks and crannies

bees in a colony

sitting on a branch

making honey

owls in a nest

way up high

in their bed for the day

VII     

Paper, flat , thin

rectangular

so different from a tree

but cut from the same cloth

VIII    

born anew every spring

just like a phoenix

IX    

a helpful friend

giving life-sustaining fluid

to someone in need

X    

A silent aroma of spring

wafting all around the meadow

X

The bark

like a protective shield

fortifying it from outsiders

XII      

A texture like a mountain

with fissures and whalebacks

rising and falling

like a pod of gray whales

swimming up the length of the trunk

XIII   

The floral sound of an alder

swaying in the salty-smelling breeze

 

A Thought

by: Xander W.

Thoughts swirl around in my head

all types of times, like before bed. 

Or, after dawn, thoughts when you yawn.

What could it be, thoughts of glee?

Or stumbling sadness that drives you to madness?

What could these thoughts be about artistic ideas,

music and fears, or screams and shouts? What could they be about?

That’s what’s in a thought you see, a jumping riddle that no one can see. 

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on Arrow Online 2025 Post #2

Arrow Online 2025 Post #1

Welcome to the 2025 Arrow Online. So excited to share some incredible art & writing from Hackley’s middle schooler students!

We’ll get started with a selection of visual art by our 5th – 8th graders and poems by 5th & 6th graders.

Stay tuned as over the last couple weeks of this 2024-25 school year, we will share so much more middle schoolers’ visual arts and writing.

Enjoy!

Ali B. ’29

Ian Z. ’30

Fiona Y. ‘31

Megan W. ’31

Recycling Bin
By Theodore B. ’32

I can’t believe the trash gets

ALL THE FOOD.

I DON’T DESERVE SMALL PLASTIC CANS.

I DON’T DESERVE MERE GLASS.

I DON’T DESERVE ALL THE CARDBOARD.

HE GETS ALL THE FOOD!

IT’S NOT FAIR

I need better food.

If I could talk

I would tell the humans

BUY MORE PAPER!

Wait,

But then the trash will still have more food!

So, what should I do?

 

How To Write A Poem

By: Isabelle M. ’32

 

Many people wonder how to write a poem.

It is very simple. I can show you how 

just come on now
The first step is to get a pencil;

next you have to think! 

Then, find something to write about. 

Find something that really expresses how you feel

(even if you write about an eel).

Next, write the poem; it could be long; it could be

short, but it doesn’t matter how long the poem is.

It only matters if you wrote it from your heart. 

If you’re done,

 you can read your poem and see what 

you need to change. Then the last step is simple. 

Just come up with a name! 

Now you have written a poem, 

it’s done and great, 

now all you need to do is 

show the world what you did create. 

 

Candle Life

by: Anna M.

 

Candle wick

Engulfed in flames

Slowly crawling down

Melting all that’s in its path

Golden like a crown

 

Candle wax

Breaking free

Flowing down the stick

Dripping, shining, pearly drops

Transparent, warm, and slick

 

Candle light

Golden glow

Soft and happy gleam

Lighting up a dark, dark room

With just one little beam

 

Candle life

Short but sweet

Happy as can be

Shining joyfully through age

Just hours, two or three

 

Sunset Pier

by: Isabelle M. ’32

 

Yellow, blue, pink and red,

Orange and purple,

In front of my head.

The waves are crashing, and 

The seagulls are squawking, 

 I can smell the salty air,

I can feel the sand on my feet.

Looking at the 

Sunset is really neat!

 

6 Ways of Seeing Waffles

By Tate W. ’31

 

1

Golden squares, warm and crisp.

Fresh from the waffle iron,

Waiting for syrup to fill the pockets.

 

2

Sticky fingers from too much syrup,

Drips across my plate,

A sweet treat I can’t resist.

 

3

The smell of butter and vanilla,

Spreading through the kitchen,

Smells like mornings.

 

4

A little crunch, then soft inside,

Crispy edges, soft middle

Perfect bite every time.

 

5

A blank canvas,

Choose your paint,

Strawberries, blueberries, chocolate chips

 

6

A plate of waffles, big or small,
Sweet, buttery, warm,

The best way to start the day.

 

Scribe Wanted!

by: Adam Y. ’31

    Attention!

Scribe needed to replace former scribe Oga-Buga II. Must have at least 12 years of scribe schooling since childhood. Memorized at least 700 characters of cuneiform and knows how to write on papyrus/tablets. Job also includes having the skill to create pens out of sharpened reeds, wood/stone writing tablets, and papyrus “paper”. Helps to write fast and have a solid memory/understanding of writing aspects. Job work includes recording stable food supply and grain accounts. Government census and people count. Calculate taxes and military results. Scribe will be very respected in social structure and work with nobles. Benefits your understanding, life quality, and will be able to teach sons the art so they can profit too. Meet at Hammurabi Mahomes park near the honorary statue. Business has been around since 3000 B.C.E. 30 shekels per year.

 

Ways of Seeing Water

by: Aden C. ’31

 

1.Many different forms, 

all different and unique.

 

2.Frozen, slippery, hard and cold like a frosty winter night.

Makes a frozen touch to a crisp winter morning.

 

3.Soft and cold to the touch. It lays lazily on top of the mountains in the winter, coating them with white paint,

leaving no trace of grass behind.

 

4.Evaporated, misty and smoky, 

It flies into the sky eagerly joining forces with pure white cotton candy like substances hanging in the savory blue late 

afternoon sky defying gravity.

 

5.The core of all the elements. liquid. it can be cool or hot. 

Stretches across more than half of the earth coating the earth with a smooth dark blue color.

6.The savior, the hero on a hot day, freshly relieving you from The never ending summer.

 

7.The booming sight of the dark waves crash overhead forcefully knocking everything out of sight. 

Cars, people, buildings, signs, all sweeped out of existence

 

8.The essential to survival, the mandatory magical blue liquid to bring all things to life.

 

Fire

by: Erik M. ’31

 

It warms like a mini sun

to keep you nice and comfy

making sure that it’s doing its job.

 

Don’t anger it with oxygen.

Then you’ll feel its wrath.

If you do, don’t throw a fit.

Pour some water over it. 

 

It’s a cooker,

heating up the food,

making sure that you have a good meal.

 

It’s the middle of the campfire

toasting the marshmallows

listening to our stories

while silently keeping us warm.

 

It’s a trap

waiting for somebody to come close.

The touch of it is loud,

a ringing pain in your head. 

 

We sit next to the fireplace only on freezing days

only when the sun cannot help us. 

 

It’s a lightbulb that helps you find your way

the only difference is it keeps you warm along the way.

 

When it finds the trees it’s like a devilish monster.

The sight of it is booming,

eating everything it sees

only to be left as black dust

 

It ignites the wood, its partner

like braces to teeth: 

Batman and Robin side by side

 

It’s like a plague if it gets too big

taking everything it sees.

 

My Dog Chanel  

by: Amora E. ’31

 

 Don’t be fooled by her angelic face.

This tiny loaf of bread can be mischievous, 

chewing through socks of all shapes and sizes.

 This ball of fluff terrorizes the house.,

 

  She’s so soft like a pillow,          

    white like freshly-laid snow.

     She blends into the winter wonderland

     with two beady eyes like black coal. 

 

   A master of licks 

      who greets the whole world with a jump and a yip. 

       Her bite is as big as her bark..

 

When she runs 

    the smokey sight of her 

     is as beautiful as the sun –

     my favorite, Chanel. 

 

Ode to Paint

by: Amelia M. ’31

 

Paint.

One stroke

Can change

Everything.

One brush

One bucket

One wall

One canvas

Can change

A person.

Upon a wall

Or on a 

Canvas

Always watching

Always seeing

The ways of life

But never being

Less than a 

Speck on a wall

Can be

As vibrant

As a summer 

Sun set

As pale

As a fresh

Coat of snow

Changing the world

One stroke

At a time

Hudson S. ’32

Tristan S. ’30

Maggie S. ’31

Anna S. ’32

 

     

 

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The Arrow 2024

This is the last post of the year. A huge thank you to all the students who submitted their fantastic creative works!

Here is an online flippable version of this year’s published issue:

 

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The Arrow 2024 – Post #6

Welcome to the 2024 Arrow Online. So excited to share some incredible art & writing by Hackley’s middle schoolers!

This is our sixth post of the season. This post highlights a few last pieces of writing from across the middle school.

Stay tuned as over the last couple weeks of this 2023-24 school year, we will continue to share all kinds of visual arts and writing.

Enjoy!

Mayhem at Grandma’s Mansion

By Aila R. ’29

 

Cast of Characters

Grandma- very irritable, clumsy from her arthritis.

Johnny- very optimistic, high pitched voice – 4 years old

Bartholomule- very thick high class accent, intelligent,- 9 years old

(Lights up on Johnny opening the creaky front door of Grandma’s old mansion)

CREEEEAAAK(front door opening)

Johnny:

…Grandma?? Are you home? (beat.) We brought green bean casserole…

(Bartholomule peeks through the door and comes inside.)

Bartholomule:

(whispered) Johnny, I dare say, I don’t believe our grandmother lives in such a creepy old mansion.

Johnny:

C’mon, Barty(pats shoulder) We have to deliver her painkillers. After her knee surgery, her arthritis has been acting up.

(Door creaks open; Grandma cames in. )

Johnny:

AHHHH! (Falls over)

Bartholomule:

Oh,dear me. Bless the shining stars!!

                             Grandma:

Who goes there! (brandishing slippers.)

Johnny:

Grandma!

Grandma:

Who are you,and what are you doing in my house???(advances with slippers. Bartholomule hurries to hide behind Johnny.)

Johnny:

Grandma! You have such a cool house!!

Bartholomule:

SHUUSH!

Grandma:

Who. Are. You?

Johnny:

Grandma.. did you forget already?!(hurt)

Johnny:

We’re your grandchildren!

Grandma:

I don’t have any grandchildren…I’ve worked in the CIA all my 82 years of life! I don’t have any time for grandchildren!

Bartholomule:

(peers behind Johnny.)Johnny, I have reason to believe
that the arthritis is getting to her head.

Grandma:

You want to say that again, lad??(shaking fist.)

Johnny:

Granny, we baked this green bean casserole all by ourselves!! Would you please try it?!!

Grandma:

Well… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…

Bartholomule:

And after that, we can give her the pain killers!

(Johnny and Bartholomule grin, relieved. Johnny and Bartholomule stare at Grandma expectantly.)

Bartholomule:

Here you go! We baked this ourselves!!

Grandma:

(sniffs the casserole suspiciously..)

Does this… (sniff sniff) have arsenic in it!!

Johnny:

WHAAAAAAAAAT!!!

Bartholomule:

NO! Never! We would never put arsenic in your food. (glances around nervously.) W-Why would you think that?

Grandma:

I knew you were suspicious! You must be secret spies trying to find out my secrets! Well! I won’t tell them! You can torture me all you like!!

Johnny:

Grandma…(shocked.)

Bartholomule:

I told you we should have stayed at home…

Grandma:

(mutters under breath) I knew I should never trust mysterious children who break into my house and tell me that they are my grandchildren!

(Grandma turns to stare at children who are politely sitting on the chairs.)

Grandma:

Who sent you?! I can tell if you’re lying.

Johnny:

Grandma.. you really don’t remember us? Our mom is Melissa.

Grandma:

I don’t know how you know my daughter, but this ends now. I will count to three, and if you don’t tell me by then, I will have no choice but to use secret tactics to make you talk.

Grandma:

ONEEEEE

Bartholomule:

Quick! Give her the painkillers!! She must be feeling cranky.

(Bartholomule quickly takes painkillers out of his pocket and dumps two in Johnny’s hand.)

Grandma:

TWOOOOOOOOO

(Johnny awkwardly tries to shove painkillers into Grandma’s mouth.)

Grandma:

MMMMMMHHHH!!

Johnny:

Sorry, Grandma..

Bartholomule:

Fantastic, Johnny!! You got her. ( Thumbs up. Grandma appears to be lying on the ground unmoving.)

Johnny:

Barty.. DID WE KILL HER?!(Eyes start watering.)

Bartholomule:

Shhhh.Shhh. it’s ok..everything’s fine. The painkillers aren’t supposed to kill her. They are supposed to relieve the pain she must be feeling.

(Grandma jumps up and makes a dash for the door, breaking through. Johnny and Bartholomule stand stunned looking in the door’s direction.)

Johnny:

(Pulls walky talky out of hidden pockets. In low voice. )

The target got away. We’ll get her next time. (bleep)

(Light off as Johnny and Bartholomule stand menacingly, backs to the audience.)

Every Day

by Josie M. ’29

 

Every day

that I walk into this door,

and walk up these stairs,

and down this hallway,

and to my locker

and my homeroom,

I am at school.

 

Every day

that I say hello to my friends

that I saw a day ago,

or a weekend ago,

or a spring break ago,

I am at school.

 

Every day

that I am asked the same question

by everyone I know,

like “How was your spring break?”,

or “What’s your spring sport?”,

or “What class do you have next?”,

I am at school.

 

But

every day that I am at school,

I

am

at

home.

 

AIRBASE ATTACK

BY NOLAN P. ’31

 

DAY 1

            First Lieutenant Jack Powell, who is a man in his twenties with green eyes and blond hair, sprints into the gray, sterilized office, crashing into Colonel Aaron Richards’ cherrywood desk. “Sir, we have a problem,” he pants, out of breath. The Colonel, who is a heavily built, stout man with blue eyes, brown hair and stubble asks,“What is it?” “Sir, the Chinese Air force is mobilizing at their largest airbase.” Lieutenant Powell says. “We think they are plotting to attack.” The Colonel says, “Go get me Lieutenant Mike (Zulu) Wright.” A few minutes later, Lieutenant Powell comes back with Mike, an average height man in his late twenties with black hair and green eyes. “Why do you have to get me now! I was practicing!” “Don’t be rude to me, Lieutenant. This is serious” The Colonel says. “Yes, sir. What is it?” “The Chinese Air Force is planning to do a nuclear strike.” “Well, what do you want me to do? Mobilize my unit?” Mike asks. “We have four days, Lieutenant. I will send you a map of the area and a course simulation.” “Yes, sir. I will start training right away.” “Good.” the Colonel says. “Now get to it.” Mike has a strange medical condition that caused his dad to die in a plane crash. The doctors don’t know what the condition does. It acts up under high stress. “Let’s hope his condition does not act up.” the Colonel thinks.

 

Mike runs into some of his squadmates on the way back from the Colonel’s office, who’s callsigns are AR, Mike’s rear gunner, who is a tall man in his early thirties with curly red hair and blue eyes, and Birdie, the left wing pilot, who is a short woman in her late twenties with brown hair and hazel eyes. “What in the world are you rushing for?”AR asks. “We have no missions. We’re on break.” “Guys, I hate to break it to you, but we have a mission.” Mike announces. “What the frick is it?”Birdie gasps. “The Chinese Air Force is gathering at their biggest air base. Our mission is to destroy it. We have four days to train and get back in shape.” ‘Colonel Richards told us we have to start right away.” “Alright.” they groan.

 

Mike and his squadmates make it down to the lounge, where the rest of the squadmates are resting. He tells them about the mission. Then, they went up to the gym to get back in shape. After the workout, it was dinner time. Mike starts a talk about the mission on the Holo TV. “Our attack is on July 21, which is four days from now.” Mike says. “The air base is in an old bomb testing crater.” “The maneuvers to get there are for staying away from the LiDAR (light detection and ranging) scanners that will guide the Chinese aircraft to our location.” “You fly into the LiDAR, you’re dead.” “So, what’s the terrain like?” Skyscope, the recon pilot, who is a lightly built woman in her early twenties with blonde hair and black eyes, asks. “You have to fly 35,000 ft AGL (Above ground level) for reconnaissance to fly over the mountains and radar.” “Wilco,” she says.  “Any other questions?” Mike asks. “Good.”

 

DAY 2

The next morning, real training begins. It was really dusty outside, as a dust storm rolled through last night. They work out and fly a simulated dogfight in the augmented reality chambers. During the dogfight, AR takes out Skyscope, who was tailgating him. Then, Birdie takes out TNT, the bomber pilot, a heavily built muscular man in his early thirties with black hair, stubble, and blonde hair, who was trying to get a missile lock on her. After that, Mike takes out Slipstream, the right wing pilot, a lightly built man in his early twenties with red hair and stubble, by hiding under his nose. Finally, Mike takes out Birdie by doing a half loop and dive bombing her

 

After the simulated dogfight, it was lunchtime. Everyone talked about how they could do better and fly more accurately. Skyscope said she wanted to improve on her positioning to not get shot down, Mike said he wanted to fly tighter turns, Slipstream said he wanted to fly a little bit farther apart, and Birdie said she wanted to be flying slightly above Mike. TNT, however, thought he flew really well.

 

After lunch, it was time to clean the jets. They wiped the jets down and washed them. They glistened in the summer sun, their black and green flame paint job shining. Then, they discussed the aircraft they would be facing. “We will be up against 11th generation fighters.” Mike says. “We think they have SU-190 VTOL and TU-220 Hypersonics.” “We’re going there in F-1650s, Zulu?” the left wing pilot asks. “Yes. Skyscope will be flying an S-850 Skystreak and TNT will be flying a B-250 Destroyer.” “There’s no way we can beat these guys,” AR comments. “That’s why the mission is to fly stealth and get out of there as quickly as possible.” “Why can’t we try out the new fighters?” Slipstream asks. “That is classified information, Slipstream.”

 

That night, it was Birdie’s birthday. The base cook made a cake with flying fighter jets held up by poles. “What would you like to do for your birthday, Birdie?” Mike asks. “I would like to do some aerobatics with the jets.” Birdie says. “I’ll go fill up the smoke tanks!” Mike yells. “Last one has to do 50 push ups!” They did some barrel rolls and flat spins like a roller coaster gone mad. Then, AR called Birdie to land. While they were doing that, TNT was skywriting, “Happy Birthday Birdie!” After that, it was bedtime. “Get a good night’s sleep guys.” Mike whispers.

 

DAY 3

The next morning, everyone woke up at different times because they worked out a lot the last day and a half. Because everyone woke up at different times, Mike called it a long breakfast. After breakfast, Mike discussed the game plan for today, which was to pass their mission worthiness test. It was a 25 page, multiple choice and short answer quiz about maneuvers and what to do if caught or downed. “We’ve passed these before, and we can do it again.” Mike says. “The test starts at 11:00 hours. Be in the conference room by then.” Finally, the time for the test had come. By 11:35, everyone was done writing. The scores came out five minutes later and everyone got 100%. “You are cleared for the mission.” the Colonel says. “Heck yeah!” TNT yells. “We’re cleared!” “Don’t get ahead of yourself, TNT. We still have to complete the simulated mission course!” Mike says.

 

Now, it was lunchtime. “Let’s discuss the formation for this mission.” Mike says. “Birdie will fly behind me, slightly above.” TNT will fly below us for obvious reasons, (not getting hit by bombs).” “As I said two days ago, Skyscope will be flying tens of thousands of feet above us, at 35,000 ft AGL.” “Slipstream will fly below me but above TNT, slightly behind.” “Got it, guys?” Mike asks. “Wilco!” everyone yells.

 

After lunch, Mike prepped everyone for the course simulation. They got the jets started up. The jets shone in the hot desert sun. The roar of the engines sounded like a tornado out of control. “Ok, everyone switch to open comms,” Mike says. “Ding me when you get it.” Ding! “ The skies are yours.” aircraft control says. “Start taxiing!” Mike yells. “Prepare for takeoff.” Once everyone was in the air, Mike started the course. Skyscope ascended while TNT descended. “Starting flight through the canyon,” Mike says. “Accelerating to 900 knots” Skyscope says over the staticky comms. Four minutes to target. “Decelerating to 400 knots.” Slipstream announces. Three minutes to target. “Activating bombsight.” TNT says. Two minutes to target. “Get into formation.” Mike says. One minute to target. “Dropping bombs.” TNT says. A moment passes in silence. KA-BOOM! A mushroom cloud rises behind them as they return to base. “Practice successful,” Mike announces. He breathes a sigh of relief.

 

DAY 4

 

“Today is D-Day,” Mike announces over the PA system. “Zulu! Why did you have to use that!” Skyscope yells. “I just wanted to make sure everyone was up.” “Alright, alright. I’m up.” TNT yawns. “Well, almost everyone.” Mike says. “No time for silly business. We have a mission to complete.” Breakfast was scrambled eggs and bacon with a banana smoothie. “Why do we have to eat such a light breakfast?” Birdie asks. “So you don’t lose your lunch.” Mike says. “But it’s not lunch. It’s breakfast.” “Ok, ok. So you don’t lose your breakfast, then.” Mike sighs. After breakfast, they got the jets ready to fly. The bombs were attached and the guns were loaded. “Prepare for takeoff,” Mike says. They fly into the hot pink morning sunrise.

 

“Everyone here?” Mike asks. “Skyscope here.” “Birdie here.” “TNT here.” “Slipstream here.” “Alright. Prepare for combat.” Mike says. “I’m at 35,000 feet, Zulu.” Skyscope announces. “Good. You may have to come down to help us if we’re intercepted.” “Wilco.” Five minutes to target. “Assume formation.” Mike says. Four minutes to target. “First sighting of anti-aircraft defense on the left,” Birdie announces. “Going under LiDAR.” TNT says. Three minutes to target. “We have been spotted.” Mike announces. “Long range patrol is four minutes to target, we are two minutes to target.” “Are we going to proceed or what?” Slipstream asks. “Yes.”

 

One minute to target. The suspense builds. “We are over target, everyone. Prepare for the fight of your lives.” Mike announces. “Bombs away!” TNT yells. Shnk! The sound of a bullet speeding past Mike’s canopy surprises everyone. “We’ve got compan-” BOOM! TNT’s bombs explode. “We’ve got company,” Birdie says. Shnick-Shnick-Shnick! “It’s gonna be a heck of a dogfight!” Mike yells. Out of the clouds comes a long range patrol of three jets. “I’ve got a missile lock on one of them!” Slipstream screams. “Fire away.” Mike says. Fwoosh! The missile streaks toward its target and blows up in a fiery explosion. The enemy fighter jet, however, appears unscathed. “They’ve got shields. Not fair.” TNT says. “I did bring EMP shield smashers,” Birdie mentions. “Use ‘em.” Skyscope says. “Where have you been, Skyscope.” Mike asks. “It takes a while to descend.” “Let’s focus on them now.” Mike says, looking at the jets streaking towards them.

 

Boom-zzzt! Birdie’s EMP bombs explode. Skyscope snipes one of them in the engine and it blows up in a fireball. Mike was involved in a guns only dogfight against their main pilot. He shoots the navigation system and the pilot goes veering off into the sea. “I’m hit! I’m hit!” Slipstream yells. “I’m going down!” “AR, you there?” Mike asks. “Yeah. What is it?” “I want you to eject and leave the cockpit open.” “Try to land in TNT’s bomber.” Mike says. “Why?” “You’ll see why.” “Everyone, prepare for a “Flying Catch.” Mike announces. Phoom! Slipstream and AR eject. Mike swoops in and catches Slipstream in the back seat while AR is being caught by TNT. Meanwhile, Birdie and Skyscope were fighting the last pilot. They shot him in the cockpit and won. “Let’s go fly back to base.” Mike says.

 

A few hours later…

 

Mike and his friends set up a tent on the runway to eat their celebration dinner. It was the finest meal they ever had. Ring! Ring! Mike’s phone rings. After a few minutes of chatter, Mike says, “Aircraft control said the sky is ours.” “You want to have some fun flying?” he asks? “Heck yeah!” They say. The squadron flies off into the red and orange sunset, awaiting adventures to come.

A Lure With a Mission

by Wythe R. ’30

 

The roar of the motor becomes a low bellow,

then a moan,

then silence.

I hear the waves attack the hull of the boat

as a boy arms my sharply-barbed hook

with a potent ribbon of squid.

The other lures and I are dangled off the side of the boat;

I stare down into the abyss.

 

All of a sudden, we fall into the water.

As I plummet toward the bottom,

I feel the dark water speeding by my weighted head as we free fall.

At first, the rocks in the black abyss are only specks,

then stones

then boulders.

I count the seconds until we make contact with the bottom: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

 

POOM

 

With a sudden jolt and a plume of sand and pebbles,

we hit the bottom, and the line goes slack.

 

I watch intently as the vivid crabs, glowing shrimp, and fish so silver.

They looked as though they were made of iron scatter.

But I have no time for that.

I have to conquer the king of the ocean floor.

 

The line goes tight then loose as I start my dance.

Sharply bouncing up,

closing my dress of long fibers,

then gracefully down, opening the dress.

 

I am like a ribbon dancer,

waving the squid strip in a zigg-zagg formation,

emitting the potent, fishy smell into the water.

 

It’s not long before there is movement in the freckled sand.

I continue my dance, until…

 

An unseen force engulfs me in a flash of sand and pebbles!

As soon as I gather my senses, I jab my hook into the black void.

 

I did it! We are on our way up. I conquered the king of the ocean floor!

 

When suddenly, we start to go back down!

I feel so confused,

but I keep my hook steady, and we start to ascend again.

 

Through a gap in the creature’s mouth, I can see the surface.

 

But the creature saw it too.

 

It makes a final attempt to escape.

I maneuver to use the creature’s moves against it.

 

Once we are on the boat,

and the boy extracts me from the creature’s mouth,

 

they let it go.

Before it fell back into the sea,

 

I gave it a little nod of approval.

The fish did the same to me

and returned to his kingdom.

 

I truly had conquered the king of the ocean floor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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