Shade Spotlight
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November 2016
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Photo by: Oriana Delgaty
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Message from the editors:
Shade
noun, verb
[sh-aid]
1. Darkness and coolness caused by shelter from direct sunlight.
2. A shadow or area of darkness.
3. To throw shade: to talk trash about a friend or acquaintance, to publicly denounce or disrespect.
This is Spotlight's second issue for the 2016-2017 school year, and we are very excited to share it with you. This issue’s theme is “shade” which has the ability to be interpreted in many different ways. It can be interpreted as literal shade given off by a tree, cloud, or building, an area of darkness, or even throwing shade. Although these are the three interpretations we as spotlight came up with, there could be many other interpretations of the word. This theme was chosen to reflect the world we live in today. The days are growing colder and darker, shadows are being cast earlier in the day, and shade is being thrown by everyone lately. In this issue, we have incorporated some fantastic pieces of writing and pictures which have been submitted by some fantastic students in the Literary Arts program at Canterbury High School. We hope you enjoy the pieces and photography.
For any inquiries please contact [email protected].
- The Shade Spotlight Team
Shade
noun, verb
[sh-aid]
1. Darkness and coolness caused by shelter from direct sunlight.
2. A shadow or area of darkness.
3. To throw shade: to talk trash about a friend or acquaintance, to publicly denounce or disrespect.
This is Spotlight's second issue for the 2016-2017 school year, and we are very excited to share it with you. This issue’s theme is “shade” which has the ability to be interpreted in many different ways. It can be interpreted as literal shade given off by a tree, cloud, or building, an area of darkness, or even throwing shade. Although these are the three interpretations we as spotlight came up with, there could be many other interpretations of the word. This theme was chosen to reflect the world we live in today. The days are growing colder and darker, shadows are being cast earlier in the day, and shade is being thrown by everyone lately. In this issue, we have incorporated some fantastic pieces of writing and pictures which have been submitted by some fantastic students in the Literary Arts program at Canterbury High School. We hope you enjoy the pieces and photography.
For any inquiries please contact [email protected].
- The Shade Spotlight Team
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How to Prove You're an Extreme Conservative
by: Pascale Malenfant Scene: The American flag is the background. Country music can be heard, as well. NARRATOR is wearing an incredibly preppy outfit, including a dress shirt and a sweater around their shoulders. So, you’ve decided to prioritize the argumentation against social issues instead of lending a hand out to support them. You’ve decided to adopt Fox News as your one and only source of information, and engrave the words “Thanks, Obama.” on your tombstone. You’ve decided that immigrants are gross, women are emotional, and Jews… yikes. Congratulations! You’re now a certified conservative! But what else besides discriminating against anything that isn’t what you deem “normal” constitutes your red opinions? Well, as someone who enjoys offending just about everything and everyone, I’ve compiled a list of simple, easy to follow steps to ward off liberals at just the sound of your man breathing! Step 1: You’ve got to look the look before you can walk the walk! You want people to know you’re a conservative from a mile away. For hair, make sure to go with a haircut that says “My father paid for this!” For clothing, I recommend knee-socks with sandals, obnoxiously coloured golf shirts, popped collars, your private school uniform, and of course, Donald Trump merchandise. How are we supposed to “make America great again” if you aren’t wearing a baseball cap or a made-in-China t-shirt that says so? Step 2: Get on Reddit, and go harass some Tumblr users. You aren’t a true conservative unless you troll at least two Tumblr feminists on a weekly basis. You need to spend so much time on Reddit that when you speak, your nasal resonance and meme-inspired vocabulary let us know just how much of an internet dweeb you are. And if you aren’t already subscribed to The Amazing Atheist, who even are you? Make sure to complain about how nice guys “always finish last” and how rape and suicide jokes are hi-larious! Bonus points if you manage to get someone on a liberal social media platform to commit suicide, and even more bonus points if they mention your username in their suicide note! |
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A Cold Shoulder
by: Alyssa Ellenor We were friends once, You and I, We’d laugh as the days went by, Until the days turned into months. Because as those months progressed, You grew colder, Somber, Distant, Until I could no longer recognize, The person that stood before my eyes. What happened to you? To us? To the friendship that provoked such a rush? Was it simply too much to handle? Too much to bare? Did the thought of opening up to someone, Create too great a scare? If so, my suggestion is this; Take a look in the mirror, And ask yourself what it is you fear. What could compel you to rid your life of someone, So easily, So Mercilessly, And without remorse? What could cause you to unbind the wonderful memories, That never failed to light up your face; To rip apart the similarities That held this friendship in place. What could cause you to cast a cold-shoulder, To someone who has always had your back, Held your hand, And been ready for a needed embrace? |
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Photo by: Jackson Hunter
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The Cloud
by: Dylan Harrington The dark cloud grew with each moment of unhappiness, casting an inescapable shadow over my body. My head ached, the darkness making the light at the edge of my vision blinding, almost impossible to reach. The cloud continued to grow, with each passing day, pushing the light furthur and furthur from my reach. As the cloud grew, I became more miserable, when one day it began to rain. That was when I decided I had had enough. I wasn’t going to put up with the cloud and its shadow anymore. I wasn’t going to allow it to rain down on me. I had had enough. So I ran towards the light, away from the cloud which cast its enormous shadow over me, until it was all gone. When I reached the light, it no longer hurt to look at it anymore. I became a part of the light, leaving the cloud and its shadow behind me. The Tree
by: Aiko Byrne So here I sit under the willow tree, the wind blowing leaves in my hair, tangling the strands across my face. I wonder what it would be like if you were here beside me, would you hold my hand as we hung our legs above the canal, or would you turn away? Not look me in the eye, the only reason to stay, the cool breeze in shade. The only reason you lay beside me to avoid the heat on your back. So here I sit wondering, hoping that you would take a chance to sit next to me under the willow tree and hold my hand. |
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*Untitled*
by: Oriana Vizcaino - Delgaty Use you thought you could use me You used me Took advantage of me I will not be used Abuse You abused the privilege of me You abused your power You abused my weakness for you Pain You thought you could cause me pain Funny, i don’t feel that anymore You tried to cause me pain and look where that got you! You have one foot out the door Sad I’d be sad to see you go It’d be sad to see you tied up on a ceiling or lying dead with a gun in your cold hand Those would be sad You thought what’d you’d done would leave me sad Jokes on you i’ve never been so 
Photo by: Oriana Delgaty
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Photo by: Oriana Delgaty
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Butterfly Cinquain
by: Sophia Chu pulled in and defrosted I believed you, wrote a poem about acceptance and trust truth told where did you find the nerve to lie then play wounded victim I’m just so done fuck off |
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Shade Of Seasons
by: Samantha Muhlig Pastel pinks with a touch of blue, Yellow tulips upon roses, Purple lilacs; Shades of Spring. Brisk blues of summer pools, Tinted greens of cut fields, Pearl clouds; Shades of Summer. Broken browns of withering trees, Grey skies on raining days, Red leafs; Shades of Fall. White snowfall that glimmers, Rainbow coloured lights, Golden presents; Shades of Winter. |
Tints Of Love
by: Sydney Orsak it’s the cool darkness of their eyes as they stare across the room, the deep blue seas and azure skies that are piercing you through. it’s the ruddy pink in their cheeks and their swollen red lips, the visions of their dark brown hands settled on your hips. it’s the shine of their glossy hair as it tickles your ears and face, the glint of gold around their neck you’d find when sharing their space. it's the shades of the rainbow from the one you imagine in your mind, the colour wheel made of wishes of your fingers intertwined. |
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*Untitled*
by: Dylan Russell Long ago in a northwestern Indian desert, the animals decided to move east to the forest. The summer was hot and dry. For the herbivores, the plants were rotting and dying. As for the carnivores, freshly decayed meat tasted foul and the blistering thick air absorbed their energy to hunt. The animals gathered together and paraded to their oasis. A few hours later a giraffe woke up. He sat up and looked around realizing he had missed departure time; all of the animals had left him abandoned in the desert. He walked around with the intent of finding some sort of path that could point him in the right direction, but he found no trail, no signs, no hope. He laid down on his back and began to cry. “Why God? Why have you forsaken me in this time of difficulty and depletion?” Then he stopped crying as he remembered watching Home Alone as a young a calf. He recalled how Kevin felt scared at first, but after realizing that nothing could be done about it, he decided to seize the moment. “This could be the best thing that ever happened to me.” The giraffe fetched his laptop and watched some things his mother would never approve of. He ate all of his halloween candy for lunch and proceeded to make a facebook account despite only being twelve. He was in the midst of posting his first picture when he heard a loud plea for help. “PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP ME!” The giraffe grabbed a Kit Kat and set off on his journey to find the dude and help him out. After a long and tiring ten minute walk, he found the source of the cry. It was a lion. The lion was stuck in a hunter’s trap and was hanging from a very unhealthy tree. “Yo, fam!” the lion pleaded. “Don’t worry, I gotchu,” the giraffe assured him. He reached up and untied the net, setting the lion free. “Thanks fam. I was up there for so long, my gosh,” the lion said, rolling his eyes. “Did they all leave without us?” “Yeah. They left this morning. I slept in past my alarm.” “So dude, we’re just left here all alone?” “Yeah.” “Sick bro! You got a laptop?” |
The Villainous Rise
by: David Cuevas Ma always told me to never go outside after five. We had rules in our household. Clean up the dishes, finish our studies, and most importantly, to be back on time. As much as my mom inforced this lesson and encouraged this idea, I just couldn’t resist. Remember, I was just a kid back then. What’s out there after five? Monsters, explosions, aliens?! Or even worse, werewolves. Our family was afraid of them, to the point that we’ll use physical violence as a form of self-defense. I always shiver at the memory of my grandfather, being slaughtered in our backyard by a wolf-like creature. We knew it was them. We felt it in our guts. Even though the fearful thought of a monster attacking my senseless body absorbed my mental state, I knew I had to give it a chance. I clearly remembered leaving my bedroom that hour. It was still dark. Grabbing the key to the main door, I unlocked it as quiet as possible and left the house. The door gave a tiny squeak as I closed it. I was at my veranda, looking at the darkness in front of me. If key in hand, I took a seat on the cold wet hardwood. I waited for a while. That’s when I saw a little glimpse of light in the background. It was majestic. It was coming into the foreground like a velasquez painting, full of movement and gracefulness. I was in awe. My eyes sparkled from the sight of beautiful yellow ball appearing in the sky. I started to cry with joy. But sooner or later, my cries turned from tears of joy, to tears of pain. My skin started to burn, sizzling like a piece bacon. I screamed with anguish, which let out a deaf-defying scream. I continued to sob. My body continued to shiver up, like a flower without enough water. I had to get inside. I grabbed my key from my pocket, gripping onto the chain. But I just couldn’t. The immense power of the light vanquished my strength. I felt humiliated and furious, yet concerned and remorseful. I knew that this was my final moment. I laid on the porch for hours. I was blanked out with pain. It wasn’t until noon when the shade came. The light switched directions slowly, which resulted the veranda to turn from a irritating heat stroke, to a cool october night. I was relieved. Even though I was still almost on the brink of death. I prayed. Just another minute, and I could have perished. I smiled, looking up at the vast blue sky. |
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Burning Star
by: Rylie McDowell Joyful laughs turn into painful tears My scars are dripping with the fear I Trusted you with my heart and soul learned what it’s like to have them torn How could you do this? But I know heaven forbid After my feelings were dismissed You feel bad for what you did. I was broken and hurt You were my best friend Yet you left me in the dirt Now all my smiles are pretend NO. You know what? I won't let this affect me so much I'm a Queen, watch me strut You were once important But know you're a spec of dust I don't need you, i'm a star You do me not a single bit of harm So you can take your sob story And Go F-yourself I'll see you in purgatory Cause I’ll be fine by myself Cause I'm so much higher on this pedestal I won't let you hold me down What you did isn't acceptable So go ahead and frown But i'm a burning star So as I play my guitar Know i'm done with you And the shit you put me through. Untitled
by: Dula Deb You see, my haters and I don’t get along for one main reason; I tend to shine bright while they’re all shady. |
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Time
by: Brenna Hynes Under the shade of the willow tree Trying to remember what my mind won’t let me Faces and places that slip my mind Trying to remember a different time You and I, suspended in space Timeless in our embrace Now I sit under the willow tree There are faces and places that I can’t see Time has left me alone So while the world is frozen I roam Fields and rivers and lakes Forests and mountain peaks I wander alone Lost with no home Without you by my side I have nowhere to hide At night my mind has these thoughts Of people and places I forgot So I sit alone Frozen to the bone But you seem so distant now Just a far off cow In a far off field Waiting to be someone’s next meal And I am better now, stronger My memories now last longer I may still have those nights Where my memories give me frights But you are barely in my mind I can’t remember those times With us, alone When I called you my home You are gone now, so am I We have left each other for different skies I hope you’ve found yours, because I’ve found mine Goodbye My friend, ‘til another time. |
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Untitled
by: James Gauthier Often ignored by visitors of the Redwood Falls Hotel and Museum is a single dusty corner of the main lobby. Unassuming at first glance, one might notice a dark spot upon the floor – a dull shadow with nothing to cast it. It is best ignored, but for those unlucky few who do consider it, a startling chain of events will be set into motion. First step: they think all day about it. It nulls their mind, distracts them from their vacations. Such a little thing drives them to the second step of the cursed cycle. Research. Few make it here, but the ones who do inquire with the staff, who shrug their shoulders and chuckle to their friends, and then they read and search every available source of information. Those who take it far enough learn of dark things and horrible accidents, but are not satisfied with mere tales of murder and betrayal. They must know the very nature of that shadow. They go on, their hair matted, their eyes wild… They may try to forget but they must go deeper. The third step begins, and so they arrive at night bearing spades and lanterns, shoveling and toiling ever towards their driving object of curiosity. Then, they see beyond the shadow… The final step is madness. |
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ABCs of Insults
by: Amy Li Awful awkward aardvark Brain-dead banal barbarian Coordinated as a cow on crutches Dull-witted dense dildo-wearing dictator Earwig excrements Fat festering ferret feces Grimy greasy guts Horny hunk of hog meat Illiterate as an ibex Jabbering jellyfish junk Knobbly-kneed knickerboxers Lumpy lugger of a leek Miserable measly maggot-infested midget Narcissistic nasal-infected nailhead Obtuse oafish ogre Puny piece of plankton Quacking quail Revolting ruffian rubbish Stinky as seven day-old socks of a skunk Tottering twig-headed tool Ugly urine-smelling urchin Vulgar villainous viper Whimpy whining weasel X Yapping yak Zit-faced zombie |
Photo by: Oriana Delgaty
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Flight
by: Lily Inskip-Shesnikcy In a bright blue sky fitted with grey and white clouds, the silhouette of birds fly throughout. They rise from the treetops in a group, friends of friends of friends of friends, and they soar. Above the pointed roofs of houses, through gaps in tall fir trees, the fly like they owe the world nothing. They are shadows against the lightness of the sky. These birds ride the wind; the currents and updrafts. These birds represent freedom. One can imagine that they’re not hunting for prey, that they’re not commanded by animalistic needs. One can imagine that they’re flying simply because when you can fly, why would you try to satisfy yourself with the ground? One can imagine they’re flying because of the freedom, because they want to feel the air course through their feathers. One can imagine that the birds fly because they too, when they were young and barely able to support their bodies let alone get off the ground, dreamed of dipping their feathers in the clouds, combing through the cotton candy of the sky with their talons. Just as if they were children, riding in the window seat of an airplane, hand pressed up against the glass imagining what it would be like to soar. Untitled
by: Gabriel Karasik In the shade In the shadow Hidden, but not forever From the heat Scorching, hot, hot, warm Cool, cold, chilling, freezing In the shadow In the shade |
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Nucance
by: Rebecca Kempe Reality is a continuum that is perceived in different ways by different people. Everyone sees colour slightly differently; everyone has a different moral compass. The world is black and white but is blue and red and green and yellow and multiple shades of gray. The lines between right and wrong continually fade until you realize that there are many different layers to your problem and that it cannot only fit in one category. The glorious array of tints and colours in our world make for great diversity and great discord. You are not confined to just blue but can pick between light blue and sky blue and robin’s egg blue – three shades that your friend swears are the same, but that you, in your artist’s heart, know are not. You may see the sunrise as blue with splashes of pink and gold, but another may see it as a rich purple-blue with splashes of orange. You are both right, of course; your perception of the world is different from everyone else’s, and you should totally embrace that. When you realize that the world is made up of so many layers and shades of reality, you discover that small nuances can make all the difference. They mean everything. That is why we do not only have left and right but we have centre; we have north, east, south and west but also variations such as north-west or south-east. Slight changes of direction can get you to a completely different destination. Yes/no questions are still answered with a certain degree of incertitude. This is why scientists have increased usage of decimal points in a futile effort to be as accurate as possible. They have not yet realized that a continuum is a scale where exact things cannot be pinpointed. The world is comprised of a great many spectrums, and spectrums flow effortlessly from one place to the next. That is why we cannot figure out the exact value of pi; the circle is in a constant state of flow and attempting to identify any specific value from it is even more pointless than isolating one water molecule from a waterfall. |
Willow Impressions
by: Ginger Hum
I lived in the country when I was young. My neighbours were exactly 147 steps from my house and there was a forested area in the other direction. Looking back, living in the country was one of the best parts of growing up and this leads my thoughts to the willow tree in the front yard. The shade of that willow tree saw many things from my childhood.
It saw the growth of my family. My parents moved into the house in 1984 when they realized my mother was pregnant with me. I was born in 1985, and my brother was born in 1991. We weren’t one of those families that moved around, my parents had settled in that one house and that’s where they would stay. That tree endured toddlers pulling up grass around its trunk and it went through kids swinging off its branches and pulling off leaves.
The shade of that tree witnessed the death of my mother. We found out she had cancer when I was 16 in the year 2000. My mother was a woman of action, she always wanted to be doing something. When she found out she was dying, she insisted on doing her work in the outdoors. The willow witnessed my mother grow pale and thin, though I’m proud to say it never saw the brightness behind my mother’s eyes fade away.
I had my first kiss underneath the hanging branches of that tree. His name was Jacob Andrews, and he was a horrible kisser. I also had my fourth kiss in the shade of the tree and it went infinitely better than my first. It happened on a Friday night with a boy named Christopher. He kissed me after our first date and then tripped on his way back to his car. I took him inside to patch him up and immediately knew I was smitten.
The worst fight I ever had with Christopher is still echoing within the trunk of the willow. Neither of us remember what we were fighting about but we sulked for days and I reverted back to my toddler days of ripping up all the grass around the base of my beloved tree wishing hopelessly for my mother. We forgave each other because of my father. He cooked us an entire pot of our favourite homemade mac and cheese and bought the cheapest bottle of wine he could find and we spent the entire night yelling, talking and laughing.
The tree got infested by willow aphids in 2007, I didn’t get to marry Christopher under its leaves and I didn’t get to let my own child hang from its branches. We hired a company to cut it down, my father didn’t want to risk having it fall onto the house. My brother and I planted a new tree, an elm instead of a willow. It’s still shorter than my hip but my father waters it religiously, he’s determined to have a full grown tree by the time his great grand children are born.
by: Ginger Hum
I lived in the country when I was young. My neighbours were exactly 147 steps from my house and there was a forested area in the other direction. Looking back, living in the country was one of the best parts of growing up and this leads my thoughts to the willow tree in the front yard. The shade of that willow tree saw many things from my childhood.
It saw the growth of my family. My parents moved into the house in 1984 when they realized my mother was pregnant with me. I was born in 1985, and my brother was born in 1991. We weren’t one of those families that moved around, my parents had settled in that one house and that’s where they would stay. That tree endured toddlers pulling up grass around its trunk and it went through kids swinging off its branches and pulling off leaves.
The shade of that tree witnessed the death of my mother. We found out she had cancer when I was 16 in the year 2000. My mother was a woman of action, she always wanted to be doing something. When she found out she was dying, she insisted on doing her work in the outdoors. The willow witnessed my mother grow pale and thin, though I’m proud to say it never saw the brightness behind my mother’s eyes fade away.
I had my first kiss underneath the hanging branches of that tree. His name was Jacob Andrews, and he was a horrible kisser. I also had my fourth kiss in the shade of the tree and it went infinitely better than my first. It happened on a Friday night with a boy named Christopher. He kissed me after our first date and then tripped on his way back to his car. I took him inside to patch him up and immediately knew I was smitten.
The worst fight I ever had with Christopher is still echoing within the trunk of the willow. Neither of us remember what we were fighting about but we sulked for days and I reverted back to my toddler days of ripping up all the grass around the base of my beloved tree wishing hopelessly for my mother. We forgave each other because of my father. He cooked us an entire pot of our favourite homemade mac and cheese and bought the cheapest bottle of wine he could find and we spent the entire night yelling, talking and laughing.
The tree got infested by willow aphids in 2007, I didn’t get to marry Christopher under its leaves and I didn’t get to let my own child hang from its branches. We hired a company to cut it down, my father didn’t want to risk having it fall onto the house. My brother and I planted a new tree, an elm instead of a willow. It’s still shorter than my hip but my father waters it religiously, he’s determined to have a full grown tree by the time his great grand children are born.
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Untitled
by: Clara Demke At night you are the most alone. At night your last company leaves. It is the time when you see the creatures, that he protects you from. At night, he leaves and becomes one of them. At night, you are without your shadow. You do not have that trusty shade by your side. At night, you are the most alone. |
Photo by: Oriana Delgaty
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Untitled
by: Gabby Caluagy-Casuga It’s a beautiful day Yet all I can think about is that The shadows under my eyes become so heavy that they are a burden I go through my day as normal but I know that Smiles only hide pain When I was so sure that Smiling helps people heal (Now read the bottom line to the first line) |
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Kiddy Pool Deep
by: Stewart Travers Even though you were burning up, The ice kept you cool. You operated from within Your cold crust, Never smiling, Never frowning. Your good morning Was a middle finger. Your goodbye Was a middle finger. Your signs of affection were either Misinterpreted, Ill-intentioned Or swept away in the wind Like children’s paper airplanes. We all sang your song But it turned sour Pretty quick. You did a good job Of batting your digital eyelashes Behind screens And convincingly fabricating a little Sawdust empire for yourself. You got authorities to fuss And tears to pool. And you seemed to eat it up. But we couldn’t really tell. Then came the second phase. You retracted your middle finger And extracted your claws, Which you raked down angel’s backs. But the cuts turned out To be mere scratches. Nice try. Then came retaliation. We watched you pour your soul Like a magnificent waterfall Into a plea for people To see your side. But your waters Were too heavily polluted And nobody wanted to swim in them. We watched you ventilate 
Photo by: Jackson Hunter
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A Cold Shoulder
by: Alyssa Ellenor We were friends once, You and I, We’d laugh as the days went by, Until the days turned into months. Because as those months progressed, You grew colder, Somber, Distant, Until I could no longer recognize, The person that stood before my eyes. What happened to you? To us? To the friendship that provoked such a rush? Was it simply too much to handle? Too much to bare? Did the thought of opening up to someone, Create too great a scare? If so, my suggestion is this; Take a look in the mirror, And ask yourself what it is you fear. What could compel you to rid your life of someone, So easily, So Mercilessly, And without remorse? What could cause you to unbind the wonderful memories, That never failed to light up your face; To rip apart the similarities That held this friendship in place. What could cause you to cast a cold-shoulder, To someone who has always had your back, Held your hand, And been ready for a needed embrace? I hope you come upon with a plausible reason For you have committed such a treason; You’ve cast me in a bucket of shade; It’s despair, clutching my skin, Clawing me, Shredding me into pieces. Soon enough, I will be lost in its misery. Unless you explain to me, Why you’ve abandoned me, So suddenly, So abruptly, So contently, And never looked back. What did I do wrong? Please. I know you cared for me once, At some point in all those months. So tell me how to remove the shade, That never leaves my presence; To remove the dart you have thrown, Into the depths of my heart. Tell me how to walk away, To move on, To forget the sting of betrayal That pulsates within every inch of my being. |
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Tree's Company
by: Eva Lynch It was 9 p.m. in the forest and the usual bunch were having their weekly get-together. Douglas, Ash-ley, Park-er and Laurel-lie were having a fun Friday night out and had just stopped for a drink at The Hollow, a new bar in town. Ash-ley and Park-er were at one end of the table discussing what they were getting Douglas fir his birthday later that week, and Douglas was in deep conversation with Laurel-lie about the latest Star Trek movie the four of them had just seen. “Ugh, and Chris Pine was amazing - as he always is.” Remarked Laurel-lie, “Totally! That man can do anything...” agreed Douglas with a dreamy look in his eyes. “It’s a shame Willow had to leaf early. She wood have loved the movie.” “Yeah, it was strange. I wonder what was going on.” Douglas said. “I’m wondering the same thing. She’s always happy to spend time together, but tonight, she was being a bit of a beech - something I never thought I wood say.” “Maybe she got herself into some shady business” said Douglas. “Who knows,” replied Laurel-lie. “We’ll have to axe her next week.” With that, their conversation finished and they rejoined Ash-ley and Park-er, laughing the night away. A week passed with no sign of Willow and the usual bunch gathered again for Douglas’s surprise party. He met them at The Hollow again, yet this time the bar was spruced up with decorations as a tree-t fir Douglas. They expected him to be excited, but he simply stood there, rooted to his spot - his eyes scanning the crowd. Douglas looked up as Park-er cleared his throat, and realized that he was expected to talk. “Oh...uh. Thanks to olive you that showed up. This is a really great surprise...” |
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Fruit of Disappointment
by: Jacob Arnold-Martindale In my garden there is a tree that I planted when it was new, It was just a tiny sapling then, until it grew and grew and grew. But on this tree, although very high, of fruit there were far too few 'Till an ancient gardener spoke to me and told me what to do. He said, “Find a nest of the Scritch Scratch bird and take a twig or two And make a mixture of Dwindle Seed and a pot of Norridge stew.” I found Dwindle Seed and a Norridge Plant for the recipe he knew And with the gathered twigs around the tree a circle I then drew. Into the circle, as the old man told, the mixture I then threw. “Now,” he said, “You must wait a year and there'll be fruit for you.” “Fifty bucks is all I need, then I'll return when the fruit is due.” No fruit set upon that tree and for many years was overdue. The ancient gardener did not return and so I thought, “I'll sue!” But the gardener was never found, or the fifty dollars I blew. |
FABREESKA LOUISE & BARBRA TEA’S BIG BEATDOWN
A Shade-y Script by: KC Hand
Our story begins in the small town of Shade Cove, Germany. Fabreeska Louise is throwing a sweet-sixteen for her pet tortoise and every bad b**** in the whole town is invited... Except for Barbra Tea, Fabreeska’s worst enemy.
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The party starts and everyone is having a blast, even the tortoise. That is until we hear a knock at the door.
Knock, knock, knock
FABREESKA
Um, did you guys hear that?
$ARAH
Yah, I did.
TORTOISE
Me too!
FABREESKA
That’s weird. All the guests are already here.
MISHELLLE
Well go answer the door you ninny! I wanna see who it is!
FABREESKA
Wow, that's weird! No one asked you.
Knock, knock, knock
$ARAH
Whoever it is won’t go away. Someone’s gotta answer it.
MISHELLLE
I vote for $arah to go.
$ARAH
Um why me though?
MISHELLLE
‘Cause ya stank.
FABREESKA
Stop argueing! Ya both stank! I’ll answer it.
Fabreeska walks slowly towards the door. She is feeling slightly anxious. Could it be Barbra Tea? She wonders. Fabreeska and Barbra have always had unsettled business… She puts her hand on the doorknob and opens the door slowly. It’s just the pizza man.
A Shade-y Script by: KC Hand
Our story begins in the small town of Shade Cove, Germany. Fabreeska Louise is throwing a sweet-sixteen for her pet tortoise and every bad b**** in the whole town is invited... Except for Barbra Tea, Fabreeska’s worst enemy.
* * * * *
The party starts and everyone is having a blast, even the tortoise. That is until we hear a knock at the door.
Knock, knock, knock
FABREESKA
Um, did you guys hear that?
$ARAH
Yah, I did.
TORTOISE
Me too!
FABREESKA
That’s weird. All the guests are already here.
MISHELLLE
Well go answer the door you ninny! I wanna see who it is!
FABREESKA
Wow, that's weird! No one asked you.
Knock, knock, knock
$ARAH
Whoever it is won’t go away. Someone’s gotta answer it.
MISHELLLE
I vote for $arah to go.
$ARAH
Um why me though?
MISHELLLE
‘Cause ya stank.
FABREESKA
Stop argueing! Ya both stank! I’ll answer it.
Fabreeska walks slowly towards the door. She is feeling slightly anxious. Could it be Barbra Tea? She wonders. Fabreeska and Barbra have always had unsettled business… She puts her hand on the doorknob and opens the door slowly. It’s just the pizza man.
Photo by: Oriana Delgaty
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Untitled
by: Madeleine Chinneck I was a stick dynamite lit from both ends My body was distorted with folds and bends My whispers became screams The distant sound blew threw your plugged ears You ignored the pain in my voice This was a game to you, a choice But I never chose you 3 years later the love holds on to a strand of my hair It may be meager and hidden It is however still alive enough to care Enough to be hurt that you didn’t And I can still feel you in the cracks on my skin You’ve molded into a part of me You’re the burn after my 3rd shot of gin But I am not in love with you I love you as a part of who I am But I’m never going to be in love with you again |
Shades
by: Emily Udle
I. Blue
The sky was midnight blue, lights strung across the roof of the courtyard like constellations. He looked up, the lights reflecting in his eyes, their glow illuminating his face in soft light. The evening was blue, clear drinks in blue bottles, blue shoes, navy clouds. Vines laced up the stone brick walls, intertwining with the stringed lights and forming a canopy of leaves across the sky. They hung down like the satin fabric of an acrobat. Blue was the colour of the mermaid mural, she gazed at us with mild interest, a lilac blush on her cheeks. Blue was our blackberry cheesecake, the colour of his eyes, intertwined with turquoise and sapphire sea.
II. Yellow
We threw ourselves down the park’s grand steps, heavy footsteps on the sidewalk, we turned right and ran the length of the Chateau Laurier. Grace, Sam and I had spent too long in the city, strolling through the street with no regard for the time. Two hours in a diner, two hours in courtyards, alleyways, markets and parks. We were passing them all again. The bookstore with live music and the man selling iPad-adaptable typewriters.
by: Emily Udle
I. Blue
The sky was midnight blue, lights strung across the roof of the courtyard like constellations. He looked up, the lights reflecting in his eyes, their glow illuminating his face in soft light. The evening was blue, clear drinks in blue bottles, blue shoes, navy clouds. Vines laced up the stone brick walls, intertwining with the stringed lights and forming a canopy of leaves across the sky. They hung down like the satin fabric of an acrobat. Blue was the colour of the mermaid mural, she gazed at us with mild interest, a lilac blush on her cheeks. Blue was our blackberry cheesecake, the colour of his eyes, intertwined with turquoise and sapphire sea.
II. Yellow
We threw ourselves down the park’s grand steps, heavy footsteps on the sidewalk, we turned right and ran the length of the Chateau Laurier. Grace, Sam and I had spent too long in the city, strolling through the street with no regard for the time. Two hours in a diner, two hours in courtyards, alleyways, markets and parks. We were passing them all again. The bookstore with live music and the man selling iPad-adaptable typewriters.
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Shade
by: Kieran Sheehan She stands in the shade, Too afraid to touch the light. Too afraid that as soon as she gets a taste, It will be taken away. Ripped out from underneath her, Stolen. Afraid that all good things must come to an end, and end they will. She doesn’t want to know it, Only to lose it. So she stays in the shade, Far away, Wanting, Yearning, And alone. |
Photo by: Oriana Delgaty
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The End.
New Issue of Spotlight Coming in December 2016
Photo by: Jackson Hunter