Short Stories Poetry Essays
Oneida High School
Volume 5, Issue 3
A L A R M
Our intention is to be a representation of the Oneida High School community. With that said, we would like to solicit submissions from outside our Creative Writing class as well. We are looking for original poetry, fiction, non-fiction, essays, and artwork that you are willing to share with the OHS community. Anonymous submissions will neither be accepted nor published. Works submitted are subject to editing for space and content. The staff reserves the right to not publish submissions as well.
volume V, issue 3
ALARM, the literary magazine of Oneida High School, is published by the students enrolled in Creative Writing. Submissions from the student body are encouraged. Please see Mr. Kirkpatrick in Room 112, Mr. Kramer in Room 120, or the student editor if interested in submitting your original writing or artwork.
Contributing Writers & Artists:
Brodie Vissers at Burst.com
We would like to take the opportunity to welcome you to our fifth volume of ALARM. We invite you to share and create right along with us.
So who are we? We are a collection and, hopefully, a reflection: a collection of voices, spirits, writers, sharers, surprises, wallflowers, athletes, dreamers, wanderers, naysayers, visionaries, punks, nerds, loners, jocks, gamers, artists, leaders, followers, geeks, heroes, victims, gladiators, jokers, truth-tellers, thespians, outsiders, emos, rockers, preps, mean girls, wannabees, skaters, musicians, adventurers, and homebodies. But mostly, we are you, and you are us. As you read through our current issue, maybe you'll recognize yourself in the following pages.
A lone crow sits on the top of a pole everyday,
wrapping his steely sharp talons around the thin wire.
Its shadow reflecting onto the surface as it gazes out into the distance,
viewing life for miles.
The sight of the harmonious orange and red sunset lighting up the sky reflecting its vibrant colors on to the water
and the playful leaves softly bouncing down from the trees.
When night falls it escapes into the darkness of the crooked trees and the howling wind.
It remains undetected until the sun rises again and the cycle begins.
People often think musical theatre is just performing on stage,
but it is so much more than that.
Musical theater is the anticipation of the announcing of the show.
It's the nervousness of preparing for auditions, and actually auditioning.
It's the anxiety of the cast list.
It's the long rehearsals that make us all tired and cranky,
or the building of set from the crack of dawn until midnight.
It's the tech week, full of yummy food and dressing rooms
that smell like feet.
It's finally putting on the show to sold out crowds
that eat up everything you give them.
But mostly it's growing as a family and learning to act as one.
It is now learning to act as a leader as My time on the Oneida High School stage comes to an end.
Don’t Know Who I Am
My parents left me when I was five years old. They were killed in a car accident. The day just passed, and the rain came down, the leaves came falling down, the wind was so loud as it crashed through the car's window. The last words I heard from my mom were, “I love you Alex.” I felt that I didn't belong to anyone. When she left, I couldn't see anything until the next day…
That's my name Alex J. I grew up in a small town with Jane and Roger J. They taught me what life is. I was crying that night. I had never been more scared. All I could see was darkness inside me; when I passed out, someone came by and took me away from the accident. I couldn’t fight for myself or run away. I can’t feel anything inside me, like an empty person. It’s been two months since I saw who I thought were my parents. The people who raised me and took care of me were dead. I would always hear them behind my door, fighting and talking about me. They never stopped for once, but now I feel like I never want to be in this life.
Two years later… I wake up feeling like I’m dreaming in the house with lots of children in rooms like a jail. You can’t hear them, only their lips move; it’s scary and dark, but not loud. I can’t stop dreaming like it keeps going and going. But something is telling me “just keep fighting don't give up keep fighting." I tried to follow the voice like it's in my head and not in the house. It looks like I am in the ground, no cars, no people no voices, like we're in another world. Cameras everywhere you go. Someone keeps following me with their spirit until they lock me down like the others. You can’t hear your own voice anymore. I was screaming and screaming to let me out. I know they hear me but are not answering. I haven’t been eating for two weeks. I can hear my own stomach growling, but I know I’ll die if I don’t eat anything. Four years have passed by. I am now 11 years old and still stuck in the middle of nowhere. I'd rather die than be like this.
The next day they came to my door throwing food onto the floor, feeding me like an animal, but I couldn't eat it. I went to bed and realized everything I see is not a dream; it is real. She keeps saying to herself so quietly in the dark, 'You look just like your mommy, but not your daddy. Your mom has something special inside her, and that’s why you're here. Those people who raised you are not your real parents honey -- they lied to you and you believed in everything they said, how sad is that? "They ran so fast to my door, and said, “ you still haven’t seen anything yet."
Then it disappeared. The lights shut down and the noise was so far. I went to the corner and laid my head into my knees and closed my eyes and said “It’s a dream I have to wake up, it’s a dream, it's a dream, wake me up." I kept saying it until someone knocked on the door three times. It wasn't loud like I expected. It kept knocking three times, stopped and continued knocking and knocking. After the lights turned on, the knock was gone. I went to the door and put my left hand against it. I felt like someone was on the other side. The door opened. I took my hands off while holding my breath and didn’t move a muscle. The door kept opening wider and slower.
I didn’t look or see who the person was. My heart was beating so fast I was scared to move my head and look, but the door slammed too hard. I tried
to scream, but my voice was gone. The days kept going and the hunger grew stronger, but I have to keep fighting for myself until I find a way out and, “if there is a way in, there is a way out."
Every door got unlocked for everyone. We were all humans, but no females. We came out and everyone was looking at each other. We never said a word. We followed the arrows that pointed us to where to go. We kept walking and walking until about 5 minutes when the lights turned off. We didn’t move or say anything. We kept going and nobody noticed what was happening. We kept going and going, but the lights were turning on and off at the same time. I was in the front and everyone was after me. I didn’t look back until I heard there was nobody behind me . I stopped walking and turned back; no one there but me. The darkness was coming so fast and I knew I would be gone like the others. I ran so fast I was crying but the lights kept turning on and off but am still there. I kept running until there was no way out but a wall.
It was a bright sunny day when a group of 20 friends chose to do a massive picnic in the woods with all their parents. It was the start of Winter Break. Snow covered most of the ground, but no one cared. They wanted to go camping so they all told their parents to pack a picnic for their families. After that, they got together to pick a time and they decided to go that night to Camp Lookout. Everyone got there and met at the main cabin and decided where they were sleeping for the night. In the morning they would decide what trail to sleep on for the rest of the time. It was an odd winter this year because the lake had not frozen over so everyone brought swimsuits to go swimming in the lake. The kids decided to sleep in the boy's section of the camp which was closer to the cabin, and the adults decided to sleep in the girl's cabin, thus closer to the lake. In the morning everyone met up in the main cabin and decided where to go spend the rest of the trip. They decided to go to the beaver path and sleep by the pond where the beavers were during the summer. The group got together for lunch to eat then set up all the tents because the adults liked the picnic so much they decided to stay. The adults wanted to turn the picnic into a camping trip. The kids also loved this idea. However, one adult looked worried because when he was a kid his group of friends decided to throw a big picnic here at Camp Lookout. They had the opportunity to stay for the break and go camping, but what he remembered is that his friends did not go with any adults. All he remembered is that his friends were killed one by one, but not even John found out what it was. It took a form inside of his friends and when you were marked with a bruise that did not heal, you were on the list for this thing to come and find you next.
He’s breaking, but no one understands why, no one sees what he feels
He’s living in an ice cube, trapped by the walls caving in as it melts
He’s all alone, but no one understands because he’s always with someone.
No one notices the pain in his eyes, to them he should have no pain
So he hides it behind a mirror
Only he can see who he really is
Everyone just thought that he changed
No one really cared anymore because he stopped being himself, and they all accepted it
until people started whispering and talking behind his back about things that were never true
It killed him so much to think that those people were actually his “friends”
He realized he had none, even the one friend he had was starting to fade away slowly
He thought he was crazy and not good enough for anyone
He gave up completely, and nobody cared
Now he stands alone and listens to himself
No one understood that this was a cry for help to save him from reality.
She’s breaking but no one understands why, no one sees what she feels
She’s living in an ice cube trapped by the walls caving in as it melts
She’s all alone but no one understands because she’s always with someone
No one notices her pain in her eyes, to them she should have no pain
So she hides it behind a mirror
Only she can see who she really is
Everyone just thought that she changed
No one really cared anymore because she stopped being herself and they all accepted it
Until people started whispering and talking behind her back about things that were never true
It killed her so much to think that those people were actually her “friends”
She realized she had none, even the one friend she had, was starting to fade away slowly
She thought she was crazy and not good enough for anyone
She gave up completely nobody cared
Now she stands alone and listens to herself
No one understood that this was a cry for help to save her from reality.
Just a thought.
If one day there was no more music, how would the world react?
If there were no more phones,
Would people finally have social interaction?
If there were no more movies,
What would make us laugh and cry?
Because if we have real human emotions we are called weak
So what are we supposed to do with all this free time?
Without anyone judging you for being yourself?
There is no way out of what is now
We could wish for it to be different
But it never will be
No one knows how to truly talk to someone anymore
Without their phone, talking about music and movies
That's what the world is now
All these things that disrupt the real world are the world.
As time goes on it will only get worse
There is no way to possibly save anyone from what is coming next
A robot overload to be exact
We have became robots too afraid to talk in person about true human emotions
Instead we hide behind a screen hoping that will save us from the true horrors of ourselves
This generation is when every new technology started coming about
I wish that I could just go back in time to
when it was okay to not have a phone
To not watch movies that are all about drugs and to not listen to pointless rap music that has no meaning at all
Not to be judged if you don’t do these things or own the latest phone or shoes or do the “coolest” drugs
What are we supposed to do then, be the outcast of the century?
These days if we aren’t all doing the same thing, we aren’t as popular as we could be
Popularity is like a contest to see who could have the most friends and most items
What about just being a genuinely nice person?
Where did things that actually mean something go?
Everything that made the world is gone
Sure we still have trees, flowers, and oceans
But it's not the same
Time has ruined us all
We have no way to go back to when talking to your friends meant going to their house
Or when you were in school and used an actual pencil and notebook
It's all gone.
Everything has changed in the world. Just a thought.
I laugh every day about almost everything and anything
It's my favorite thing to do
I feel like laughing makes you happier and the people surrounding you become happier too
Sometimes my laugh may be a little too loud and obnoxious
But we all have certain things about ourselves that make us unique
Even if others don’t appreciate my laugh every day, I appreciate my laugh because it makes me happy.
Red is the flickering flames dancing across the wood of a bonfire,
Making your clothes smell like smoke until they’re washed.
It is the sound of people talking and laughing at a party,
Decked out in ball gowns and masquerade masks dancing the night away.
Red is the sharp and fiery taste of a spicy dish,
Dancing across your taste buds and singeing them with their hot bite.
It is the sight of a girl in a red dress,
Dancing and twirling whilst smiling from ear to ear without a care in the world.
Red is like a small fire made of love and passion,
Growing rapidly with no regret or forethought between those unexpecting hearts.
There is a crime out there I have always wanted to commit but always lacked the courage to do so. I want to rob a bank ...exactly enough money to get to Hawaii. I don’t wanna pull a gun out, I just wanna go into the bank and say “give me all your money.” Why can’t life be more simple, because honestly all I wanna do is fly to Hawaii and the only way to do so would be to rob a bank. Sure, I will go to jail, but only if they catch me! If I were to wear a black ski mask and dark clothes, they would never know it’s me. I’d leave, put on my normal “Reanna clothes,” and flee to Hawaii. Of course I wouldn’t go to my own bank because then I would be robbing myself. I would go to the one right near Price Chopper because it has those cool tubes that give you both a lollipop and your money. I would just walk in and get only the amount of money I need (no more than that because I would feel awful). After I accomplish this, I would drive to Buffalo airport and not Syracuse because then it would be harder for them to catch me. I would buy a plane ticket and wait to enter the plane. “Hawaii is the next flight.” I run, so excited to be going to my dream place and all thanks to the bank right near Price Chopper.
I sadly woke up from my dream and realized that I would never have the guts to rob a bank. But maybe one day! :)
It’s surreal to think that I will be graduating high school in a few months. In the last four years, the walls of Oneida High School have become my home. It’s a place where I can laugh and cry all in one day, fail a test one period and pass another the next, and be surrounded by people I love at all times. As much as I complain about waking up at the crack of dawn every morning, I wouldn’t change it for the world. The everyday routine is something I need in my life to keep me sane. I’m not quite sure what I am going to do with my life in nine months when I have a different schedule every other day.
Most of all, I will miss the end of the school... not many people go down there unless they are in chorus or band, or unless they are being called down to sit in one of the school's boring assemblies. The music wing has taught me how to laugh and love no matter what is happening in my life. Whether I’m in Mr. Hawthorne’s room at 7:50 in the morning with obnoxious trumpets blowing in my ears, or I’m in Mrs. O’Connell's room getting yelled at for giggling in the corner with my best friend, it doesn't matter. The biggest thing for me will be the stage. The auditorium has seen me at my best, and at my worst. As much as they are grueling to sit through, I will miss Brett’s first rehearsal talks and cast meetings while the seniors yell at us for not taking it seriously. What is weird to me is that I will be the senior this year. Instead of yelling at them, I, along with the rest of the seniors, will pump them up and encourage them to give them their all because we all know how it feels to be put down by upperclassman. You won’t hear many people say this, but I absolutely love high school, and I am so sad that it is coming to an end.
After years of singing classical music professionally, I had begun to feel like I wasn't succeeding. I wasn't winning the competitions, and I wasn't making it to conferences. I couldn't use my voice to the fullest extent that I had wanted. As a child, I would waltz around the house belting out Disney songs. When I entered high school, I began voice lessons in the cream colored house across from Hamilton college. As time went on, I went from being eager to make the thirty minute trip after school to feeling as if it were a chore to go.
This continued until I was approached by my old choral teacher from middle school. She had invited me and three of my friends to put on a charity concert in the church for our community. My face immediately lit up at the thought. We knew we couldn't donate to all charities from one concert, so we wanted to pick a charity that spoke to us on another level. After a long process, we chose a charity called Food for the Poor in Haiti. It would help build houses for those in need.
The concert was emotional, but only lasted about an hour and a half. Singing my last song, my eyes instantly filled with tears as I thought of all of the people we were helping. Immediately after, we had raised enough money to build one house in Haiti. The week following, we received letters thanking us for our talent and sending in checks to continue our journey. An anonymous donor from another church offered to match all we had raised. The grand total was $3,600, the perfect amount to help those in need. Shock overtook my body as I tried to realize how good a heart this anonymous donor had.
I was finally given a chance to use my gift to help others. During the first few years, my voice was always used for competitions or to rank me among the rest of the singers with big dreams in upstate New York. Instead, I was able to use my passion for music and love for my community to help those in Haiti that had been devastated by one natural disaster after another. I was able to recognize that there are needs in the world much greater than my own. In an hour's time, my friends and I used our given talents to help people across the globe.
I have become more humble in my craft. I found the joy in my vocal lessons that I had so longingly missed. The importance of ranks and scores melted away. I joined a local club, Junior B Sharp, that brings music students together from surrounding schools to put on concerts in churches and nursing homes, have monthly meetings about music, and also put on a concert every May to raise money for a different charity each year.
Since our concert, I have taken it upon myself to continue my journey with the church. As a Catholic, I never got my first Holy Communion or Confirmation. This year, I have reached out to the church that the concert was held in to seek guidance in making that dream come true.
I feel as if I was given this talent for a purpose. I am able to use my voice to move people to feel something they have never felt. The anonymous donor from the charity concert has inspired me to see the importance in other things. All I did was sing five songs that have turned themselves into the boards and bricks used to build the houses in Haiti.
I wish I could have the chance to thank the donor. They showed me what my voice should be used for. I am filled with eagerness once more for the art form I grew up loving, and hope to die loving as well.
I’ve been in Valencia, Spain for a short time so far, and it’s still early to say anything permanent about the future. There’s been training Monday through Thursday morning and then gym right after. Classes are starting next week for coaching and Spanish courses. Each day I’ve taken naps to adjust to the six hour time zone change. It has been very exhausting, but each day is one hour acclimated. We’ve had players arriving throughout the week and we almost have all of them here. The food is fine but very similar everyday. We walk to training every morning with balls, cones, pinnies, etc. in a shopping cart. It’s pretty interesting to say the least. I have a roommate from Nigeria who likes to sleep with light on his face. Other than that, he’s fun to hang out with. Valencia is a small city but a nice one which I have not explored yet. My residence is an old slaughter house that is now turned into a sports and hotel complex. It’s been difficult without family or friends to turn to when you need them the most , but it’s a learning and growing experience right now. I’m on my own, and I will be for six more months, but it will be exciting, challenging, and scary at times. Regardless, I will persevere and most importantly have a great time with this opportunity.