Their Secret Wonderland

Twas a beautiful day,

the sun shining, the wind flowing through her hair.

Sitting with her young son,

the two dined upon a gingham blanket.

Under the trees whilst the birds sung a tune of gaiety,

they enjoyed their small sandwiches and the sounds of nature.

Outside in this weather they were at peace,

you could say nothing but the least.

The boy running over hills of green,

his mother following him behind.

Crossing a bridge of water lilies, 

they admired the flowers below.

They stopped and stared,

trying to take in the indescribable beauty of the flowers.

This was their happy place.

Their little secret,

which they shared between themselves.

No one else knew of this little patch of heaven.

Because if they did,

it would no longer be as beautiful as it was.

It would be full of buildings,

urbanized, filled with people.

They kept it between them,

and stood on the hill,

gazing at this breath-taking wonderland.

Sad, they left their slice of heaven,

but there was always tomorrow,

a new day filled with this place. 

Locked Away

Dream Marks on My Pillow by Ana Lancu

08/12/1993

This wrinkled pillow is all I have. In this confinement, nothing else is mine. I spend the day, following a routine; Wake up, go to breakfast, work out in the yard, shower, free time, and then back to my cell. Of all the things here, nothing is my own. I have no photos. No family outside of these walls. I've been on my own for a while, traveling, seeing the world. I had traveled abroad, and finally made it to almost every country. I had seen it all. The Eiffel Tower, The Forbidden City, The Great Wall of China, Sydney Opera House. You name it, and I've most likely been there and could tell you about it. I had just come back to the States after this worldwide adventure of mine. Let's just say I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I was in Detroit, and I was going to go to all the museums in the city and admire all the art. I walked into a nearby gas station and was searching for a bag of Barbeque Lays. Before going into anymore detail, let me just state on a side note that Detroit is a bit... crime-filled. So I was grabbing a bag of chips on the shelf, when the man in the mask came in. He had a gun and barged in, robbing the store. I had my own gun on me, as I travel alone, and I started crawling towards him, trying to attract little attention. I had gotten close enough, shooting distance, and I pulled the trigger. The man was taken by surprise, and his now wounded body fell to the floor with a soft thud. I had never killed anyone in my life, until that day. The cashier was in shock, crying her eyes out. She looked to be about eighteen years old, probably new to this job, and she was hysterical. When the police arrived, she tried to explain what happened between her sobs. They seem to have gotten the story wrong though. There were no cameras in this gas station mart, and the cashier was the only other witness. Next thing I know, I'm in court, claimed to be guilty, and thrown into prison. I always remember that day, reflecting upon the details of it, everyday. Sometimes I think that cashier might have had it out for me or something, or was possibly an accomplice. Maybe she was a daughter of a mob leader, who knows? All I know is that longer I am in here, the more I think of how she framed me and how she could have been apart of the whole robbery scheme. I don't know maybe I'm crazy.

Wait. What's that? The guard just said someone's here to see me. As I peer out my open cell door, I see her at the end of the hall. Her young face, slowly coming closer and into my line of sight. She looks different; older, lustful, and evil. The face comes into the light, and I can clearly see her now. It is her. The cashier.

-Charles

Journey to Nowhere

She sighed as she watched the port slowly vanish from her sights. Although, Ella loved the sea, she hated leaving her home. She had never lived in one place long enough. Or so it seemed. Her parents were marine biologists, so when they found something noteworthy or undiscovered they would stay at the nearest town. Ella understood that this was their job, but she wanted a place to call "home" not just another town to stay in for another month or two. She wanted to live a normal life. But things took a turn for the worst; her parents told her that their next venture would be longer than most. It would take half a year to get there. Preparing herself, for this journey, she sat near the front, searching for hopefully, their new home. This trip would never-end though. For this was a journey to nowhere.

Oil See About That (Ba dum tssss)

Born on the November 14, 1840, we were graced with the birth of Claude Oscar Monet. His birth happened in Paris, France as he was born unto a shopkeeper, Claude Aldophe Monet and his stay-at-home wife, Louise-Justine Aubree. Although Monet's birthplace was Paris, his family moved to the Channel Coast at Le Havre. As he resided there, he and his brother, Leon Monet attended private school. Claude continued his schooling there and attended the Le Havre "communal college".

Self-portrait of Claude Monet

As he pursued his art career, Monet made many friends: Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Frédéric Bazille, and Alfred Sisley. Through his artwork, he was also able to meet his wife, Camille Doncieux. She concieved their first child in 1867. It was during this time that Monet was having financial problems and attempted to commit suicide by throwing himself in the Seine. Two years later, in 1870, they married. They still had some money issues as Monet was having trouble selling his oil paintings in an exhibition because his asking prices were too high. His wife gave birth to another child in 1878, but got very sick after the child's birth. She died of tuberculosis, a year later. It was during this time that the world was having some major events:

• 1870: Franco-Prussian War Begins
• 1881: Czar-Nicholas II of Russia- Assassinated
• 1888: First Victim of "Jack, The Ripper"- Murdered
• 1893: World Fair Opens in Chicago
• 1898: U.S. Declares War on Spain

After his wife's death, it was a struggle for Monet. However, he continued with his career, for the rest of his life. Claude Oscar Monet died December 5, 1926, at the age of 86. Three of his most famous works are Water Lilies, Impression Sunrise, and Bridge Over a Pond of Water Lilies. These were a few of his oil paints which displayed the Impressionism movement of art Monet was apart of.

Bridge Over a Pond of Water Lilies

Water Lilies

Six Word Memoir

Life. The fanfic that never ends.

Sad, but true.

  

Can't you see I am reading? 

When people interrupt me, this is how I respond.

The World Within

The day had been normal, or so it seemed for Sapphire. Yes, her name Sapphire. Her mother thought it would be cool and mystical to have her daughter named after a gem. Sapphire didn't mind it really, she embraced her unique name, but most people called her Sapph.

Her prison (her name for that godforsaken place: school) had just been released and she walked into the school library, searching for a book. This was the only place she enjoyed in that place. Running her fingers over the old tattered books, Sapphire asked Mr. Linden, the librarian, about a novel. Sapph had ironically picked up a book whose color matched her name.

"Mr Linden, what's this book about? And is it worth reading?" she questioned.

He looked up from his desk, glancing at the novel. His face then turned quite pale. "Sapphire, put that book back. Right now. Trust me. It is not worth reading. Just put it back on the shelf." he answered back with a serious tone.

Sapph was confused by Mr. Linden's strong reaction to this mere book. "What's wrong with it? It looks like any other book to me. It can't be that bad. Are you pulling my leg right now, Mr. Linden?" she inquired with a smile..

"Sapphire. Please don't ask me anymore. I can't describe why. It just. Nothing good comes from that book. Please just put it back on the shelf and forget about it. I beg of you. We should have gotten rid of that book years ago. I'm going to call to get it taken out of here tomorrow. So please," Mr. Linden said as he reached for the telephone, dialing.

She could see the fear in his eyes, and nodded in return. Sapph placed it back on the shelf and roamed the shelves once more, as he watched her. When Mr. Linden looked away, Sapph couldn't help it. She went back to the shelf, grabbing the worn out book, stuffing it in her satchel. She grabbed another novel that looked like something she would read. She showed it to Mr. Linden so, he was aware of her borrowing it.

(Author Note: This library is not like the kind we have today, there's no sensors in the books or anything)

Because most of the student avoided the library, Mr. Linden was very laidback and allowed Sapphire to take the novels without official checking them out. There wasn't much of an official system anyway, and Sapphire was an avid reader, basically living in the library. He had finished his phone call about the disposal of that novel after Sapphire left. He went to grab the novel, and then he realized it. "OH NO," he spoke as he rushed out of the library, looking for her.

Sapphire had just arrived home after a nice 15 minute walk from school. "I'm home!" she exclaimed, letting everyone know her whereabouts. She headed to her room where she grabbed the book and threw her satchel on the floor.

"Trust me. It is not worth reading... Nothing good comes from that book." She thought about what Mr. Linden had said. But it really couldn't be that bad. She opened the novel and began reading. She had made it a few pages in before she fell asleep. It had been a long day in that prison. As she closed her eyes, the vines began to slowly sprout from the binding of the book.

They grew bigger and bigger, creating a portal. The vines enveloped Sapph's sleeping body and pulled her in.

Rubbing her eyes, Sapphire awoke. She looked around. "Where am I?" Sapph began to recall what had previously happened. All she could remember was that she had started reading the book, and then she fell asleep. Looking around this forest like place the tall trees towering over her, bird calls coming from all directions, the ground wet with dew. Contemplating whether she was delusional or if this was all a dream, she decided to go with the latter; but then Sapph noticed the open book sitting in front of her. "No, it couldn't be."

He had warned her about the book. Now it was too late.

Lurking in the Shadows

I live alone, but I'm never alone.

It all started that night. The night of his death.

Kevin and I were on our normal route home, walking past the various antique-looking stores on our street. We headed into the bookstore for my normal book fangirl sessions. The store was run by an older man in his 60's. His name was Harold, and he was quite sweet, always giving good recommendations and slipping in a favorite book of his with my purchase for free. Kevin was wandering around looking for anything that didn't reek of dirt and dust. He didn't hate it here, but he'd prefer to be basically anywhere else. But, for my sake, he'd tag along so I could roam through all the dilapidated books, with worn corners, and discolored covers. Books made me so happy, but the older ones, that have some wear and tear, made me the happiest. It was always fun to look through the catalog cards, making up stories for every person listed on it. It was always a fun adventure, in that old little book shop, until HE showed up.

I didn't know this man nor do I know him now. He killed Kevin. Shot him right in the head. And left him there, without a trace of evidence. The night Kevin died, I wasn't with him. Kevin decided to head to the coffee shop as I was very engrossed in my trip in the book store, but taking longer than usual. He was on his way there, or so I presume, then I heard a BANG.

Everyone in the shops on the street ran out, including me. It was then that I saw Kevin's cold body lying in the street. I couldn't handle the emotions that were coming as I ran to his body weeping. Kevin was my best friend and in a flash he was gone. There were no witnesses, except one. The witness said that the man was wearing all black and that his face couldn't be seen.

HE is the reason I am always on the run. With Kevin, as my only family, I am alone now. He is always lurking in my shadows, following me. I don't know why or who or how. But he's always there, watching me from afar. I can never escape his grasp. He is my stalker.