William Byrd Sketches
2013-2014
Nightmares
Karyn Heisig
Waking to a world of slate, clouded with confusion’s mist
A home filled with bleak grey and silence
People flooded the streets, walking with no intention
Chattering to a brick wall with pleas and cries
A home filled with bleak gray and silence
Night falls as they descend upon the cold earth
Chattering to a brick wall with pleas and cries
The blue door of time beckons for my touch
Night falls as they descend upon the cold earth
With a mutter of goodbyes to my best friend
The blue door of time beckons for my touch
Reality sets in with tears of relief, filled with pain
El Fito
Gary Webb
Estar en el agua fría
Aintiendo la sensación de
Hipotermia
Being on cold water
Feeling wind
hypothermia
Show-and-Tell
Emilie Hughes
She woke up that morning with a huge smile on her face. Today was the day when the students could bring their parents to class and talk about their jobs. She thought of it as Show-and-Tell and was thrilled to tell all her friends about her father.
“Honey, you can stay home today if you want. I understand if you want to,” her mother said as she opened her bedroom door.
“Of course I want to go; my whole first grade class is going to have their parents come. I want to talk about daddy,” she said matter-of-factly with a smile on her face as she put her favorite dress on. Her mother’s face had lost the glow and her eyes dropped to the floor.
“Are you sure?” she whispered and stared at her little girl.
“You can come with me if you want to,” she suggested, quickly tying her shoes. She stood up and admired her beautiful flower dress in the mirror.
Her mother left the room and she finished getting ready. After a silent breakfast, they both walked out to the car to meet the frigid air. Their mouths blew white fog with each breath; a smile never left the little girl’s face. As they got to school, the girl held her mother’s hand and escorted her to the first grade classroom.
Looking around, they saw many moms and dads with their kids all dressed up and ready to present their wonderful parents to everyone. This made her smile fade, for she was only there with her mother. One by one, the girls and boys talked about their parents with pride. It was her turn to go next, and she smiled shyly and brushed the wrinkles from her dress. She glanced at her mother who smiled with a hand on her cheek and uncertainty in her eyes.
“My dad is the best dad anyone can ask for. He is tall and strong and his hugs make me safe. I would always play outside with him and catch bugs and butterflies. We would play tag and even pretend to go to tea parties, with me as the princess of course.” She looked around the room and saw her mother with tears in her eyes and a slight smile on her face.
“He loved his country very much and wanted to protect me and mommy and all of you.” She kept glancing at her mother who was now staring at the ground. She smoothed her favorite dress and took a deep breath. “I kiss my letters before I send them so when he opens it, he gets my kiss. If he were able to, he’d be here, but he’s just too far from home. I’m very proud to have a daddy like him.”
She looked around and saw that all the parents and children were listening very closely. She directed her eyes toward the teacher. “He hasn’t written me back in a while but I know its because he’s trying to protect us…” her voice trailed off and no one spoke. After a moment of complete silence, she said, “My daddy bought me this dress before he went away.”
Suddenly everyone’s gaze turned toward the door. Her mother dropped to her knees in tears. The little girl looked over and saw a man in a uniform with flowers in his hands. Her eyes widened and she began to cry.
“Is it … really you?”
The parents in the room smiled and some even cried. She ran as fast as she could to greet the man. He got on his knees and opened his arms wide. She ran in his arms to feel his warm and safe hug. Her sobbing mother came over and hugged both of them while the man kissed her cheek and closed his eyes in happiness. Everyone began to clap and her mother wiped away her tears of joy. The little girl stood up and wiped her tears and smiled with the same huge smile. She smoothed her dress and said:
“Everyone, I want you to meet my dad.”
Daily
Tricia Swortzel
There is a battle, a war being waged
And it’s happening inside my head
”Stand up for yourself,” one side raged
The other murmurs, “Let’s play dead.”
Keeping the peace is the easiest way,
Burying all I’ve been taught.
But resentment builds and simmers away,
A bitter flavor on each thought.
If I let the beast out and say what I want
The atmosphere heats up in flame.
If I just close my eyes and bite back my tongue
My insides feel just the same.
But a problem arises when I let it all out
The hurt, the regret, the shame.
The friendship destroyed, the hearts that are scarred
And none but myself to blame.
So keep it inside- I must and I will
But how to endure the strain?
“Just give it to Me,” said my Lord, my God,
“I am here to share all your pain.”
Now, when the battle begins in my head
I try to remember to pray.
I give God and the angels all my concerns
And ask for THAT strength every day.
Oh, children, my children, please heed these words-
What you say must be sweet on your tongue.
For your heart, your soul, and your mind, my child,
Should feel peace when each day is done.
Waking Up
Kylie Cunningham
I woke up this morning smiling briefly, but then I remembered. I remembered that my life shattered into pieces last week and I didn’t have him to mend my broken heart anymore. I forced myself out of bed and showered, not for myself, but for him. Feeling numb, lost, and broken, I washed the shampoo out of my hair.
Images of the tragic night flashed through my head. I wish they would just stop; I wish I could just forget.
June 14th should have been one of the happiest memories of my life; instead it was one memory I prayed to forget. He took me to the spot where we had our first date, the pond in the park. He had thought ahead and packed us a picnic dinner. Cold bologna sandwiches wrapped in tin foil, cubed watermelon in mismatched Tupperware, lukewarm sparkling grape juice in cheap, plastic cups.
As I finished my food, I noticed he was nervously fidgeting about, wringing his calloused hands red. I remember that I found it humorous; how could he be nervous on one of our dates? We had been dating for over two years, why would he be so anxious for such a simple outing together, something we had done so many times before?
My question soon answered itself when he got down on one knee, looked me square in the eyes, and fumbled over four simple words, “Will you marry me?” I couldn’t contain my excitement and surprise. I had always known that he would be the only boy I would ever love; I had always known that I would spend the rest of my life loving him. But what I didn’t know was that he was already planning our future together. I didn’t expect the proposal at that exact moment, but I knew that it would come one day.
Little did I know, June 14th was the last moment of pure happiness that I would ever experience. On our way home from the park, the sound of his off-key singing and my laughter filled the car. I remember his face, looking between me, the road, and then back to my hand with the diamond flashing on my ring finger. I warned him to be careful, to keep his eyes on the road. But, he confidently assured me that we would be fine; he said he couldn’t help but to stare at his beautiful fiancé.
Right after those sweet words left his mouth, I heard the sound of metal hitting metal, the screech of tires, the shattering of glass, and felt my body lurch forward into the dashboard. As the windshield exploded, I found myself looking at his face one last time. He looked so peaceful staring at me as his body slammed against the steering column with a harsh crack of bone and body. The next thing I remember was waking up to paramedics dragging his lifeless body from the car.
Suddenly, the cold stream of water from the shower brought me back to my harsh reality. Slumping to the floor, I found myself hoping, praying, pleading for it all to have been a bad dream. As the tears rushed down my already wet face, I realized that it was real, that the love of my life was gone. He was gone. There was no way to stop waking up without him. Every last ounce of my energy begged for one last chance, a chance to see his goofy smile, hear his contagious laugh, hug him, and even listen to his off-key singing. But I would never get another chance because he was gone, and I was here. And there was nothing I could do about it.
Broderick Munsey
Broderick Munsey
Rachel Mann
Broderick Munsey
Mr. Graves
The World Below
Rachel Abshire
She’s there. She’s always been there. She’s always seen through the glass and wondered about her future. That spirit inside, trapped there, waiting to blossom. And she sits beneath the glass covered in a haze of tainted deception, and she wonders where her life will lead and what she will believe and who she will be and for what cause she will plead and who she will please.
The glass is covered over by a film of dark residue left over from doubt and instability and lethargy. She can see through the glass, though; she can see the world, and she sees the world looking in on her. Its dark eyes are full of judgment and uncertainty, and its hands pushed against the tainted glass in a mocking manner, as if trying to reach through and taint her with its faults. Peering at each other through this glassy fog they stand, deciding whether each is good enough for the other.
The world at which she stares does not believe in her. Besides, how could she rise up so far from the nutrition-less dirt, it asks? But she knows the sun’s light is so bright even through the haze, and the water so pure by which she has been watered, that she can grow up far beyond her encasement, far beyond the rubble. For she came from a seed of good hope, was watered by love, absorbed the eternal light of the sun.
Motivated by the world’s doubt, she stirs in the ash and rises up from her grime and dirt in which she has so long laid. But unlike the phoenix, she knows she will not rise again. There’s only one chance to grow the way she wants, one chance to live above the ash and grime and dirt. She reaches for the goodness above, and for it only, never looking down to the place that she left, but remembering it. By the time she grows past the ceiling of her confinement, breaking through the seal, her blossom is as bright as her sun. Her true color is revealed and is beautiful: it is different from all else, a new color for the world to see. And when the world does finally see her it turns and cannot look upon her for she has proven it wrong. She showed it her strength and defied its skepticism.
Her new petals face the sun, spread to its unending warmth, ceaselessly growing. She blossoms for herself, and never looks down.
Mrs. Camp-Martin
Lost in the Rain
Karyn Heisig
Gray skies clouded the hospital windows and casted shadows along the checkered floors. Heavy machines surrounded a single, white-sheeted bed and a single, white woman sitting next to a pale child; her firm, motherly hand clasped around his bony and frail hand, tracing the clear tubes protruding from his wrist and arm. As she stared down at her beautiful baby boy, her mind wondered what he could be dreaming about, if he could dream.
“Could he dream of our vacation to Mexico,” she pondered, “splashing through the waves and his tiny feet against the golden sand? Or maybe of the Forth of July party we had. The fireworks the simmered and swayed against the dark night that seemed to last forever in his eyes.”
Her thoughts were quickly laid to rest when the doctor came in the room. His silver eyes protected by his oval glasses were heavy with mental decay and mournfulness. He ignored her longing gaze for the longest time, busying about the room, but finally gave in to her desperate eyes.
“It’s been twenty-three days, ma’am. Your son has been long gone since the accident. Breathing through a machine is no way to live. I believe it’s time to let him go; it’s what’s for the best.” he said in a polished voice.
His pointed face turned down to the child, and his eyes wallowed in invisible tears.
“No, in good time, his father needs to come see him first. We have to discuss some things.” she replied in a soft, hoarse whisper.
“Ma’am, your husband is….”
“No! He will be here! They promised!” She stood with anger in her eyes.
The doctor, too shocked and sad to speak, simply turned and left, shutting the door behind him. She sat down in her gray chair next to her gray boy once more, staring into his lifeless face. Her longing gaze seemed to last forever, until she was awakened from cationic state by a crack of thunder. She turned her head toward the small window and watched silently as it began to rain.
“Rain. It was raining,” she said, “ when it happened. You were in the car. You father was driving and you had just gotten out from soccer practice. You wanted pizza for dinner, and I… I made it for you at home, where you should have been. The weatherman said we had a tropical storm warning, and people should stay at home… where they are safe. But, I said no, you should go before the big game…. You need to work on your penalty kick! And then, the rain started; it came pouring down and I got worried. I knew you would both be in the car, coming home, where it’s safe. I texted your father, asking him when he would be home, and he never answered.” She paused to look out the window and then shuffled to her chair beside her son.
“I brushed it off, knowing how careful your father was, and knew you would be home soon. But, you never did. So, I called and called and worried about the both of you, and just when I was about to give up and go out myself, the phone rang.” She looked down at her machine of a son. “It was… the police. Your father swerved not to hit a car, and you fell, like the rain. When I got here, they told me your father would be out soon, they promised. And then, I found you. You were all alone in this cold room and I, I knew your father would want me here, but they promised he would be here soon. They promised.”
She paused to wipe the tears from her face; she suddenly noticed that when they coursed down her finger and tumbled from the tip, it looked like the rain that fell outside. The rain that took her husband and son, the rain that shattered her hopes and dreams, the rain that made her fall into a dark and scary world where she was falling; she fell like the rain.